Laurie was losing.No matter what he said, Sasha would counterit—because, as usual, he had good sense and right on his side.Still, Laurie's father had never allowed such things to standbetween him and victory.Maybe Sir William could win this.Lauriefolded his arms.He did not meet the bright, passionate gazeseeking his.“Don’t you meanIcan't afford them?”
Sashawalked away.Laurie's victory was only that he walked in the rightdirection—back up the stairs, not out of the front door.There wasno exit from the top floor, and as long as he didn't come back withhis rucksack, knock Laurie down and walk out, Laurie would havegained his point.He only had to watch the stairs.
Theywere scattered all over with papers.Sasha had gone up them soquickly—stumbling as if stuck blind—that he'd knocked his laptopover too, a device he normally treated with the utmost respect.Laurie had got through three since they'd bought Sasha's, droppingthem, leaving them on trains.But Sash was never careless.If yougave him something, he would try to make it last forlife.
Lauriewas half-blind too.He couldn't find a handkerchief, so he wipedhis face on his sleeve before crouching to gather up the papers.There were a lot of them.Laurie didn't read them, figuring he'dsinned enough for one day without violating Sasha's privacy too,but he couldn't help taking in some of the headings.Casehistories, precedents, transcripts from other court cases whereColin Pearson had stood witness...Sasha had managed to find andcollate all this five thousand miles from home, cut off from hisoffice and all his resources.Laurie was painfully proud of him.Hepicked up the laptop, made sure there was no damage, and saved theopen files.Then he closed the lid, put the papers in what hethought was the right order, and tenderly set them down.He satbeside them on the step where Sasha had been working, and buriedhis face in his hands.
***
“I need you to stay here.I can't tell you my reasons.Butplease, Sasha—please.”
Sashasat up in the bed.He didn't know what time it was or when he'dfallen asleep.The room was filled with the blue-purple darkness ofa Hollywood night.Scents of sagebrush drifted through it, and citylights gleamed on its horizon.His eyes were sore, his chest stillscraping when he inhaled.From what he could tell by Laurie'ssilhouette, his voice and the grief-salted scent of him, his loverwas in the same state.“You cannot,” Sasha said hoarsely, pushingback the quilt that had been too hot but a desperately neededrefuge, “ever talk to me like that again, Laurie.”
“I know.”
“Because I won't take it.Not even from my...my fairytaleprince.”
Laurieshivered.“You know, that’s how I always thought of you.Ever sinceClara first came up with her name for you—her secret prince, Imean.”
“I don’t feel too princely right now.”
“Me neither.I can’t even breathe through my nose.”
Sashaput out an arm for him.He knew he was surrendering.Every kiss heplanted on the hot, tearstained face was a white flag.This wasn’ta solution to their conflict, just a desperate patching of wounds.He didn’t care.He dragged aside the quilt to let Laurie in.“Whatdo you want?”
“Be here while I’m away.Be here when I get back.”
“All right.God almighty...I will, okay?But I meant now.Whatdo you need right now?”
“Oh, Sash.How can you want me?”
Your heart and your mind are closed off from me.Your body isall I have left.Shifting beneath him,pushing back the damp hair from his brow, Sasha almost said it, butthe unmanning tears boiled up in him again.He was glad of them:words had done enough damage tonight.He rolled Laurie down intothe bed.They were both still fully dressed but that felt painfullyright, in keeping with the barriers between them.
Lauriestruggled over onto his front.He buried his face in the pillow andlifted his hips when Sasha took hold of his belt, assisted inunbreathing silence while Sasha stripped him down.Just his jeansand his briefs round his thighs, his shirt crushed up around hiswaist—enough to expose him.He shuddered.Sasha pinned him.Histears fell hotly on the back of Laurie's neck.He jerked thebedside drawer open and pulled out the lube.
Theyfought it out quietly, mute as hunted beasts, turning the beautifulhouse into a cave.Sasha went deep on his first stroke and stayedthere.Laurie pushed away his hand when he tried to reach under: hewanted to be fucked, not caressed.To lie in the blackness behindhis own eyes.He writhed and spread himself to welcome Sasha'sshort, hard thrusts.
Therewas no way he would come.That was the side effect for him ofdaytime drinking, of Marielle's—Bailey's—sedatives.When had hecracked?He barely remembered, except that stumbling back into histrailer after three hours of highly charged nothingness on thegreen-screen backcloth of Stonehenge, he had felt so bloody empty.And there the pills had been.
Sashawas trying to take him into his arms.Laurie lay flat so that hecouldn't.Lonely nights in his Mayfair attic room, discovering howthe snitched drugs would pad the walls for him but block off hisonly other escape route, the dawning pleasure of his own touch...He couldn't drag Sasha back down with him into that world, and sohe pushed back against him, moaned, manufactured the bitten-offcries Sasha would wring from him on orgasm's brink.
“Laurie!Sweetheart—are you there?”
Lauriechoked on bitter laughter.He knew what Sasha meant, but thequestion ran so deep.He had no idea.“Yes,” he rasped, barelyaudible against the pillow.“Stay here, Sasha.Promise.”
“I promise.”Sasha said it like a prayer, his lips hot silk onLaurie's shoulder.His thrusts became rapid, then stilled into onelong surge, racked with helpless shudders.“I will.”
Chapter Nineteen
Lauriehad been wrong about Nicole and Wes.The first two films in theseries had kept them tantalisingly apart, and Laurie had grownbored with their mutual yearning, half convinced that Brett hadkept Carmen and Valentine on separate Hollywood continents becausetheir on-screen chemistry would let them down.Now, at last, outhere in the blazing Mojave, they were being allowed theirlong-awaited first kiss.
They were very good.Laurie stood on the sidelines with Baileyand a handful of other actors and crew.The scene would be amoonlit one once the tech guys had finished with it, and Brett hadrigged up a short rail for the camera rig to slide along andcapture the whole scene in one long shot.For the first time Lauriesaw real skill and beauty in what was being done here, and hewatched intently.Even Bailey for once had obeyed the calltoquiet on set.Carmen Duprey—a desert warrior now, embracing her vampiric destinyand ready to fight for her kind—waited serenely among the rocks.Valentine Frost stepped out to meet her with tremendous presenceand grace.Looking at him, Laurie could almost forget that he'demployed Libby Palermo's botox doc after all, and was safely zippedup inside the best of professional shaper suits.
Carmenremained tensely still until he was within three yards of her.Thenshe held out a commanding hand.She looked him over with a brightintensity that reached Laurie where he stood, lifting the hairs onhis arms in response, and then she broke cover.
Valentine caught her, plucking her almost out of the air.Yes,it was nicely done.Laurie had been too harsh on this genre offilm: he could almost see, watching now, what brought the fans outin their Greyhound droves to try and find a piece of it.Mentallyhe added moonlight and the powerful string score that wouldeventually accompany the scene.Valentine set her gently back onher feet, stroked her hair from her face and leaned in.Their lipsmet.Douglas Brett yelledcut—much too soon, Laurie thought,because really the pair of them did have potential to rock out apassionate clinch—and they sprang apart.
“Good.Great, guys.We’ll print that.”
