Moonstruck Read online

  With Claire, though…well, he wished it was his bed. And for the first time in the last six months, he regretted moving in with his buddy Matt. He could afford a place of his own a dozen times over, so why hadn’t he rented a house? Or bought one, then kept it as an investment?

  He knew the answer, of course. Mortgages and rental contracts were a little too much like moving back home, and that was something he wasn’t going to do. Not with his parents just down the road in Plano. Not with their constant mantra in his ear that he’d never been quite good enough, that he needed to think about construction, that he’d be lucky to find a decent job. Even now, when he could point to his Malibu house and his bankroll and five pieces of prime Los Angeles real estate with a steady income stream—even now it didn’t seem to be enough. Never once had his dad said he was proud of him. And the only time his mother ever called was to tell him that she saw him on TMZ, and what the devil was he doing getting himself noticed by such tripe?

  It was all he could do to not ask her what she was doing watching it.

  He loved them. He did. But he was tired of being a constant disappointment. Under the circumstances, he really wasn’t sure what else he could do to win their approval. Better to live far away, out of the chill zone. As it was, they’d never once called to arrange breakfast or lunch or even a weekend gathering. He was right there in their town, and he might as well be thousands of miles away.

  Maybe from thousands of miles away the sting would be less.

  No. The sting already was less. He was used to it. His parents were who they were, and he dealt with that.

  But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  TY WOKE TO THE enticing feel of a woman’s tongue flicking over his ear.

  “Good morning,” she whispered.

  “What time is it?”

  “Daytime,” she said, and apparently that was all the information he was getting, because now she was trailing kisses down his neck and his arm, her fingers going to work on the tiny buttons of his shirt. “About that scorecard,” she said, and although he couldn’t see her mouth, he could hear the smile in her voice, not to mention the heat, and his body, only moments before groggy with sleep, twitched to life.

  She shifted her weight, lifting her head to smile at him. “Any complaints? Comments? Observations for the record?”

  “I think I’d be wise to just let you handle this one.”

  “Good answer,” she said, then lifted herself up and—oh, please give him strength now—straddled him right at his hips, her rear brushing his very hard, very awake cock. “No touching,” she said. “Hands at your sides. This is all about me touching you.”

  She leaned forward, her lips brushing his jaw, her fingers sliding deep into his hair. “If I can make you feel even half as good as you made me last night, you’re going to be one very happy man.” Her mouth shifted left, then her teeth nipped at his earlobe, and Ty was certain that he was going to lose it right then. “Kiss me,” she said, and then closed her mouth over his as if to prove how very serious she was about the demand.

  Demanding and hungry and yet sweet at the same time, she took total charge of the kiss, exploring his mouth with her tongue, biting and nipping on his lips, taking and giving and teasing and making promises with her body that he couldn’t wait for her to keep.

  She broke the kiss with a teasing little nip to his lower lip, then pressed a soft finger there. “Don’t move,” she said, then scooted down, down, until her hands cupped his briefs and the massive erection straining for release. She positioned herself over him, her panties against his briefs, her clit rubbing over his cock, and she kissed him, hard and deep, then slid kisses across his jaw until she got to his ear. “Do you like that?”

  “God, yes.”

  “Can you feel how wet I am?”

  He groaned, completely helpless to this woman who’d taken control of his body. “Claire.” He ground her name out, like a prayer. Like a plea. “Let me touch you.”

  “Shh,” she said, then nipped his chin. “You’re not going to do anything. Just me. You know how to play by the rules, right?”

  He could only nod, as all the blood that would normally operate the part of his brain that formed words had flowed downstream to his cock, which she released by gently easing the band of the briefs down until it sprang free, proud and begging for attention.

  Her hand reached down to stroke him, and he felt the pressure build, that sweet climb toward release and heaven. He wanted it, and yet he didn’t. He wanted this to last, and yet he wanted the explosion.

  Hell, he just wanted.

  Most of all, though, he wanted her. Wanted to be inside her again. Wanted to hear her come in his ear and know that he’d brought her there. That he’d taken her high and hard.

  This was her game, though, and if that’s the way she wanted it, he’d survive. And soon he’d render the same type of sweet torture on her.

  Her nimble fingers stroked his shaft, the friction of palm against his flesh nearly bringing him to the edge.

  And then, when he felt her tongue dance over the tip—then, he was certain that he really had died and gone to heaven.

  She said his name once, then closed her mouth over him, the sweet, warm heat of her soft mouth stroking him even as her hands touched him in all the right spots. It was a sensual assault, and Ty was not a strong enough man to hold out. He’d been on the verge since he’d discovered the taste of chocolate mixed with Claire, and now he let the sensation build. Let the tension flow and collect. Let the pleasure grow, until he couldn’t stand it anymore and the entire universe exploded around him, leaving only him and Claire and the sense that he’d just experienced one absolutely perfect moment.

  She shifted, then eased herself back up his sensitive body, curling herself up beside him and hooking a leg over his hip. Her calf brushed his cock, which twitched, possibly in thank you, possibly in regret that round two wasn’t immediately on the agenda.

  “Good morning,” she whispered. “I hope you liked your wake-up call.”

  WITH HER HAIR DAMP and her fluffy robe wrapped tight around her, Claire scrolled through her text and phone messages while Ty showered. She’d considered taking him up on his suggestion that they save water and shower together, but they’d slept incredibly late and according to Joe’s text message, the party was only from one to three, and already it was past eleven.

  They needed to get dressed and out the door soon, because they still had to get to Ty’s, get him a change of clothes, and then get all the way to far north Dallas by no later than one-thirty. Fashionably late was one thing, but any time after that would be downright rude.

  If they hurried, they’d make it, but as they’d already discovered, hurry was not a word that applied when the two of them were naked. Get in the shower together, it might be another full year before they made it to the Power Publicity party.

  She had a huge number of e-mails from friends probably wishing her “Happy New Year,” that she vowed to read later, and then one text from Alyssa labeled Have U Seen Ths?

  Since she had absolutely no idea what that could be referring to, she opened the message and found herself staring right back at herself. And not just her. Her and Ty, locked in a clench, their pose definitely suggesting that they were going to find a private place and do exactly what they did.

  Oh, shit.

  She scrolled the message down and found Alyssa’s included note:

  Showed up on Twitter. Not sure who found it first, but wanted U to see. He’s amazing, but….

  Claire drew in a breath, thinking about where that picture had been. Some Web site. Then some blogs. Then Twitter. Good Lord, all of her friends would have seen it. Not that she was ashamed or anything. After all, if they’d been at the club they would have seen the same thing, right? But still…

  She kept scrolling and found another message, this one labeled, Be Careful.

  She clicked it open with dread, and found a full article which included the pictu
re. An article all about Ty, and how he always had a different woman on his arm, and oh-lookey-here, the next one is Claire Daniels, a Dallas attorney and daughter of Senator Anthony Daniels. Good Lord, she thought, as something cold and unwelcoming eased up her spine. She was gossip. How the hell had that happened? More, what the hell did she intend to do about it?

  Not a question she had time to ponder, because now Ty was coming back into the room, a towel hooked around his waist, his body damp and delicious and good enough to eat. His eyes found Claire’s and her body went all hot and fizzy, like he’d flipped some sort of switch on her. And, damn her, she couldn’t deny that she liked the way it felt.

  Ty took one look at her and frowned. “Are you okay? You’re not dressed.”

  She closed her hand around the phone in her pocket. “Fine. Just hungover.”

  “Aspirin,” he said, then started rummaging in her medicine cabinet. And as Claire watched him tap out a couple of pills, she sighed, wishing that Aspirin really did have the power to cure what ailed her.

  6

  “YOU LIVE HERE? It’s huge.”

  Ty pulled into the long driveway, bringing the car to a halt in front of the sprawling stone home. “Temporarily,” he said. “And it’s a friend’s. He travels a lot. Thought it would be a good idea to have someone else share the mortgage.”

  He came around to open her door, then took her arm as they walked up the path. She didn’t pull away, but he neither did she look at him the way she’d looked at him the night before. In fact, he had the distinct impression that she was afraid to look at him, as if she’d give away something she didn’t want revealed.

  He wanted to push her on it and make her tell him what was bothering her, but he knew he didn’t have the right. There was no relationship between them. No commitment. But if she was having regrets about last night, he damn sure hoped she got over it. For his part, he had no regrets at all. For the first time in a long time, in fact, he wanted to stay with the woman he’d slept with. And not just in bed. Already he was cursing the damn party, because he wanted to take her out to breakfast, show her the funky local places he’d found.

  He just plain wanted to spend time with her, and that was not a feeling that tended to be high up there on Ty Coleman’s list of emotional states. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been in a serious relationship. Lately, women had been dates. Distractions. Booty-call buddies.

  He didn’t fully understand why, but there was no denying that Claire was more than that. Which was why her sudden slide into pensiveness made him so uncomfortable.

  “I won’t take long,” he said, leading her into the house, only to find it a hell of a lot more hectic than he’d left it.

  He’d forgotten about football, of course, and now at least two dozen guys were sprawled out in the massive living room, screaming at the television set.

  Claire turned to him, her amused expression lightening his own mood a thousand-fold. “All of them live here?”

  “Only a small percentage,” Ty said.

  “Ty!” one of the guys yelled. “These douchebags are playing for shit! You outta just buy the team. Fire that lousy-ass coach.”

  “Yeah, buy the team!”

  “Hell, just buy more beer!”

  After that, he couldn’t hear as his former frat brothers, current roommates, and a few assorted strangers all started shouting things at once. From the far side of the room, Matt stood up and motioned to the kitchen. Ty pressed his hand to Claire’s back and steered them that direction.

  “I’m Matt,” Ty’s friend and current landlord said, holding out his hand for Claire. “Since I don’t know you, I’m guessing you came with Ty and not for football.”

  “You guessed right.” To her credit, she didn’t seem overwhelmed, either by the crowd in the other room or by Matt, who fully qualified as a bear of a man, his huge paw managing to completely engulf her hand as he shook it.

  “We’re late,” Ty said. “Just came in to get fresh clothes.”

  “Right. I’ll follow you up.” He turned to Claire. “I need to talk to my boy. Would you mind—”

  “No, of course not,” she said, then pulled out a chair at the table. “I’m happy to wait.”

  “Help yourself to anything in the fridge, if there’s anything left. If it’s not nailed down around here, it gets eaten pretty quickly.”

  Ty mouthed a quick, sorry, to which she replied with a definitive, don’t worry about it, and then he followed Matt out of the room.

  “What’s up?” he asked, when they reached the room that Ty had been renting for the last six months. He started stripping down, happy to get into some clean clothes.

  “Does she realize who you are?”

  He turned, surprised. “Excuse me?”

  “You need to check your phone more often, dude. Give it here.” Ty passed Matt his phone, then slid on a clean shirt while Matt tapped at the touch-screen. “Check it out.”

  Ty took the phone and looked at the crystal clear screen. A screen showing, up close and personal, him and Claire tight in a clench. Exactly what he’d feared, and even faster than he’d expected.

  “That explains it then,” he said.

  “What?”

  “After I got out of the shower this morning. A chill in the air. She checked her messages. How much do you want to bet she’s gotten a hundred e-mails with this picture.”

  “She’s an attorney, Ty. Works for a judge.”

  “You know her?” Matt worked at one of the largest law firms in the city.

  “Not personally, but I’ve heard of her. She’s active in the Bar, attends a lot of fund-raisers. Just accepted a job at Thatcher and Dain in their appellate section, and that’s a hard nut to crack, let me tell you.”

  “And her dad’s a senator,” Ty said. “Thanks for showing me.”

  “Dallas may be the big city, bro, but this town still turns on gossip. It may be more polite in the South than it is in California, but it cuts just as deep.”

  Ty ran his fingers through his hair, silently cursing.

  “She one of your usuals, or one you want to hang on to for a while?”

  Ty buttoned his slacks as he looked toward the door, imagining Claire at the kitchen table, scrolling through e-mails asking her who the devil she’d gotten mixed up with.

  For a moment, Ty considered denying how he felt, but this was Matt, his best friend. The guy who’d had his back when Ty had been dumb enough to put firecrackers in Old Lady Beckett’s mailbox, and had walked the walk of shame with him when guilt had settled in his gut and he’d gone to confess his crime.

  They knew each other’s secrets, and although Ty didn’t share everything with his friends, with Matt, he shared a lot. “I like her, Matt. I really like her.”

  His friend’s shoulders sagged, ever so slightly. “Okay, then. I’ll keep a good thought for you, guy. But I wouldn’t be surprised if for the first time in a long time, you’re the one standing still, and the girl’s the one doing the walking away.”

  “I’M SO SORRY ABOUT the picture,” Ty said when they were back in the car and heading north on the tollroad.

  “You saw?”

  “Matt showed me.” He sighed, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “I expect that kind of thing when I’m in L.A., but I didn’t think to warn you. I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay,” she smiled, and right then he really believed that it was okay, and his heart leaped a little, knowing that he hadn’t inadvertently ruined everything for her—or kicked her out of his life.

  “It’s not your fault,” she added.

  He nodded in agreement, though he supposed to be technical, he could argue that point. After all, he’d cultivated the lifestyle. He’d courted the tabloids and the paparazzi. He’d done everything he could to get his name out there as much as possible and as often as possible.

  He’d wouldn’t do it any differently now, because in the market he worked in, that was what it took to build intere
st. But that didn’t change the basic fact that he retained some level of responsibility for Claire ending up on the Internet in a clench.

  “It was just one kiss,” she said, philosophically. “It’s not as if they got pictures of anything else.” He glanced sideways and noted her small frown. “Did they?”

  “I checked. Nothing. I think we’re clear.”

  “Well, there you go. New Year’s Eve. One kiss. It’s silly.”

  She reached over and stroked his hand, and the simple touch caused a wave of pleasure to flow through him. Intensely sensual, but also, well, nice. A sensation he now associated only with Claire.

  “I’ve sorry if I seemed moody earlier,” she said. “This is new territory for me.”

  “And you don’t like it.”

  The corner of her mouth curved up in a wry grin. “Not much. No.”

  And that, he thought, was something else that set her apart from other girls. Instead of chasing celebrity, Claire was content to calmly step out of its raging path.

  “If I’m going to be noticed,” she said, “I want it to be for something other than the quality of my kiss or the gorgeousness of the man I’m kissing.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, but I’ll take it as one.”

  “It is,” she said, her voice lightened by her smile. “And I’m fine now. Really.”

  SHE MEANT IT, too, but even if she hadn’t, she probably would have said so anyway, especially now that she saw how concerned he’d been that she’d bolt and run. And, yeah, she’d considered bolting and running. But it was one picture. One silly little New Year’s Eve picture that made the rounds among her friends and would soon be forgotten.

  After all, it wasn’t as if she was a celebrity. No news story there.

  And it wasn’t as if she’d be kissing Ty in public everyday, though private was a different matter altogether. And, yes, she hoped to be full up on private kisses, and other indoor sports, as well.