Curve Couture: Book Three Page 5

  I clenched my fists but had to admit that she was right, there. They were making love. Just not in the sexual sense. They had been making a love that could be attached to the bottles of scents and the elaborate marketing propaganda that surrounded it.

  They were selling love. Not even the real kind. But what was the real kind? What Erin and I shared? It was hardly romantic. Mostly just crude sex and a crazy inexplicable longing for each other. There was no tender heat and soft romance like that in the ads Janice and Erin were creating and later selling. Our love was comparatively raw and primal. Messy and real.

  It was real.

  And I didn’t need any propaganda—or Janice—to tell me otherwise.

  “Look! Let’s just agree to disagree there. If that is what you believe what love is, then so be it. My love is not like that, and it never has been, even back when I really loved you. And there was such a time when I really actually did. But no more. I don’t feel anything other than regret over ever having known you. Let alone in actually being your sister,” I stated bluntly, lying down the truths as I saw them.

  Never would Janice make me doubt myself again.

  “What is it about me that you hate so much?” Janice asked me sweetly. I raised my brows at her mocking tone. Was she serious? I mean where do I start? But she didn’t wait for my answer and said instead, “When did it all start? Was it when you caught me kissing your friend all those years ago? I was but twelve back then. A child. Surely you wouldn’t hold such a nasty grudge against a child.”

  Damn, but she was good. She could twist anything around to center me as its fault. I sated at her in dismay, unable to hide my momentary defeat over her obvious cunning. She smirked at me impishly as if it had been a great lark to steal my first kiss. To her, it had been.

  “He would have been my first kiss,” I admitted finally.

  “Aw… well, now you have better memories of your first kiss. You have Colin, who turned out to be your first fuck too,” she shot back, double barreled and trigger friendly. I shuddered on impact.

  She was good.

  I gave her a grudging nod of respect, and she inclined her head, accepting her due.

  “Do you want to know why I have always hated you?” she asked me casually as if discussing the weather.

  I didn’t. Not really. I didn’t think I could stomach hearing much more of her real or imagined slights at my hand. My mistake with Colin was enough to have her haunt me over it in an eerie litany for life. But then, perhaps I should learn of her other perceived grievances against me. It had obviously been festering for some time. I wondered how she did it—bottle up all her angst so professionally that all I saw was the shiny profile she wanted me to see.

  I shrugged my shoulders indifferently, and said simply, “So tell me.”

  We waited for the waiter, who appeared to flirt openly with Janice and then shoot me a surprising wink before taking our orders and going about his business.

  I calmed my not-at-all fluttering heart from the unsolicited attention and focused on Janice. I may be model now, but other than the sleeze balls, both men and women I’d encountered in the modeling circuit, I had never so much as received a wink from anyone. Especially not in the vicinity of my supermodel sister. Winks like that were always directed at her, so it was rather flattering to receive one from a random stranger. It made me feel attractive. I could not hide my beaming smile as I gazed back at Janice expectantly.

  “That there! That’s exactly why I hate you. Hate you with a vengeance you can only imagine,” she said bitingly. I stared at her, aghast and clueless. I didn’t get it. That what?

  “You’re like a bloody poodle! Wagging your little tail over the slightest complement. You overreact to everything. You overreacted to my kissing that ass ten years ago, and you still do it. You light up like a bubbling lamp every time something good happens to you. And you’re down in the dumps when things don’t go your way. When are you going to learn it’s not about you? Take that waiter for example. He winked at you, thinking you’re an easy lay, and you beamed up like a lightbulb over that compliment.”

  She made an elegantly fluttering gesture with hand, indicating I was hopeless.

  “So I am not a cold-hearted, judgmental bitch. Big deal!” I responded fumingly. “I guess, by now, we can safely say that it’s impossible for us to like each other the way we are. I can’t even hope that we stay friends, because we have never been friends and likely never will. You hate my guts, and I hate yours!” I added the last matter-of-factly.

  The waiter was back, this time carting a tray with our selection of wines. I was thinking I’d be needing something stronger and soon. I watch mutedly as he pranced around Janice, pouring and presenting her wine with a flourish before attending to me. It had always been like that—everyone attended to her first before they so much as even looked at me. I sighed, waiting for him to be done and then be gone.

  “Look, despite it all, you are my sister, and I would like it if you came for my wedding. I don’t quite know when or where it’s going to be yet … or anything else about it at all, but I’d like you there all the same. You don’t have to answer me now. Just think about it,” I said finally then fidgeted, trying not to get up and get out of there.

  I realized later that three hours in Janice’s company was all I could stand.

  Her mocking toast to Erin and me and our upcoming marriage notwithstanding, she was still a bitch on my nerves.

  So it was with some relief that I later stumbled back into my hotel room in utter emotional exhaustion.

  “You’re back! After”—Erin pretended to glance at the watch not on his wrist and blew a low whistle before muttering— “three hours with the she-devil herself.”

  Erin lifted an invisible flute of champagne to mock toast me.

  I groaned and stumbled forward, falling face first onto the mattress before him. His deep, dark chuckle rang out thrillingly around me. I felt myself being turned over and then undressed. I helped him as much as I could, and a short while later, I was as naked as him.

  “Were you naked this whole time?” I asked, running my greedy hands over his lovely contours frantically.

  “Shh,” he murmured soothingly. “You know I was. I was waiting for you.” Erin bent over to run soothing kisses down my hot cheeks and across my unbound breasts. I watched him feast on me for a while. Staring besotted as his sensual lips closed about my peaks one at a time before suckling deeply. I ran a loving hand through his soft hair and moaned freely.

  “I love you, Erin,” I whispered brokenly. His lips released my tits to come up and graze mine before he murmured softly, making me drool with want.

  “I love you, Claire.”

  Our lips burrowed into each other, and soon, our bodies followed suit. We picked up on where our honeymooning left off earlier, pistoning into each other and rocking our world to an explosive high.

  Chapter 6

  “Don’t you think it’s a little too much?” I asked Erin, doubtfully.

  “Why are you asking him? He shouldn’t even be here!” exclaimed Rafael fretfully. I winced at the immediate unwarranted poke to my scalp.

  “It’s just the registration. I don’t think that don’t see the bride ‘til the wedding rule applies to the wedding registration,” I said amicably then winced some more at the few more unnecessary jabs.

  Seriously! Did I really need a foot-high bun on my head for something that was clearly just administrative in purposes? What was wrong with Rafael? And what was wrong with Tracy, for that matter? I grimaced at the floor-length gown with an elaborate train in tulle that Tracy was bringing over.

  “We’ve explained this to you like a million times already. If you weren’t so busy making googly eyes at Erin, you would have heard at least something of what we were saying,” complained Tracy heatedly.

  I grimaced at that. She was right. I had been mostly to blame, or more like Erin was mostly to be blamed. He kept distracting me this whole week since we got ba
ck from Paris. He couldn’t seem to let go of the fact that honeymoon time was over. We spent every waking hour and not much of the sleeping ones together. And that, only because there were not much sleeping hours at all. The bags beneath my eyes clearly said so.

  And looking at the hollowed-out cheeks reflected in the mirror before me I had to say that food hadn’t been a priority with us either. We were just too busy. Too busy doing… you know.

  I allowed Tracy to slip the delicate material over my chemise and corset-clad figure. The effect was instantaneous. The gasps that rasped out across the unusually busy room was not all my own.

  I had been literally transformed. Out the window went my doubts about overdoing it. My preference for au natural look plummeted to a sudden death. This vision… this was really something to behold.

  But wasn’t this more suited for the wedding day?

  “If you think this is something, you should see what we got you for your wedding day,” Tracy murmured with an uncharacteristic excitement.

  I turned slightly and caught Erin’s eyes staring right at me. I waited for them to rise my length and catch my own burning gaze in the mirror.

  That he looked beautiful was without question. That I looked incomparable was something I never dreamed possible. I was suddenly fiercely glad he got to see me like this. That he would always remember me on my wedding day—albeit registered wedding day—as someone exotic enough to be paired with him and not found wanting.

  We bustled about in the next half hour, doing last minute preparations and then photoshoots.

  It was at that first snap that conversations of the days passed between Tracy, Rafael, Erin and myself became clear—crystal clear.

  Our wedding was being sponsored by several magazines, designers, and advertisers. It was to be the splashiest wedding of the year. The wedding that would sell thousands of bridal magazines, thousands of related merchandise, and attract thousands more in audience and fan sites.

  It was to be, in short, a circus of massive proportions with Erin and me being the main entertainment.

  I shook away that horrendous thought then scoured about my head for that same fuzzy oblivion that had served well to hold reality at bay while immersing me in the non-existent romance of the moment.

  “Don’t shake your head, you idiot!” snarled Rafael, instantly drawing out a vicious glare from Erin on my behalf. I beamed up at him over that, but then, Rafael was backtracking. “I simply meant she would undo the pins.”

  I bit back a groan over the pins and tried not to think about them biting into my head.

  “Look this way!” demanded the photographer, but I didn’t. I needed my shot of oblivion, and I needed it now.

  So instead, I cupped Erin’s face and pulled it down to mine for a ferocious kiss. I would need constant kisses from him to maintain my fuzzies if I wanted to get through this still mostly sane. And I duly informed him of such.

  He was only too happy to oblige.

  ****

  “I cannot believe it,” I said softly, gazing up at Erin, my husband.

  He held me tighter in his arms as we rocked to the slow music in our imagination. The day had been pure Hell but wonderfully so at the same time. I hadn’t felt so elated in, well, since Erin proposed.

  “Hush,” Erin whispered huskily again before blinking away another suspicious moisture in the region of his eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I would have been concerned he was turning into a regular mush. I smiled lovingly up at him then buried my face back onto his chest, feeling suddenly all choked up myself.

  What was it about weddings that reduced people to mere watering pots?

  “Do you know when you first felt it? This blinding need that I feel for you?” Erin asked abruptly; then, not waiting for my answer, he plodded on,” I can’t even recall that exact moment. I think it must have been forever. It has to be. I have loved you always. My whole life. Before we even met. Then, I met you, and we became friends—something more. Then, lovers in every sense of the word. And now… now you’re my wife. Mine! All mine.”

  He enveloped my frame within his arms, reducing my happiness to open sobs of unfettered delight. I happily accepted Rafael’s hurriedly thrust out handkerchief and moped up my face then inelegantly blew my nose.

  “Look, we really need to get you two out of those clothes before you damage them,” said Rafael fretfully.

  I beamed a smile at him, feeling tired but deliriously happy. “Today has been absolutely wonderful. Thank you so much for everything,” I blurted out in a half sob, feeling all teary eyed again. I squeezed Erin’s hand and whispered ‘I love you’ again.

  Rafael waved off my thanks then pulled me out of Erin’s grasp. Together, he and Tracy started work on removing me from my dress, corset, and chemise. I was reduced to standing in my panties and stockings by the time they were done. Clad in his briefs and robe, Erin draped mine about my shoulders.

  I smiled warmly then snuggled back into his arms.

  Tracy gave a rude snort, and Rafael chuckled, amused over our doe-eyed looks at each other. I lingered in his embrace while the team packed up and then were gone.

  We were in our hotel suite, booked specifically for this day. The hotel was one of our many sponsors. It felt strange to have the most intimate moments of our lives being funded by strangers and organizations wanting to profit from our merger. It would have been overwhelming if I had not had Erin’s constant company and kisses. Surrounded by his love, I had been hardly aware, at all, of the world beyond the reach of his arms—of the world carefully watching our every move, photographing and recording every moment of it. Reporters and paparazzi had greeted us on exit and escorted us down to the registrar of birth, death, and marriages. The limo ride there was short from our hotel. And we were made to pose countless times at the various stops along the way, gathering a mass of cheering crowd and followers along the way. Erin was a celebrity all on his own, and his adoring fans had been out there, cheering him on if sad to see him go, taking on the mantel of husbandry and leaving bachelorhood behind for good.

  The registration itself had been well photographed, and our kiss after set of an explosion of flashes. But then, it was all over, and we returned to the hotel promptly after.

  We held each other and swayed the night away to our own invisible tune—a music so sweet it kept our eyes moist even as it lifted our lips into blissful smiles, a music that was honeyed soft, surprisingly, not something I had heard before. I didn’t know I had it in me to imagine out our own song. I wasn’t sure if Erin jived to the same beat. But our souls thud together in a tempo, and that was surely enough of a song to our love-struck hearts.

  We stayed up most of that night naked in each other’s arms but only talking. Whispering over each other’s hopes and dreams and then making plans for our lives together.

  It was at some point in the wee hours of the next morning that I fired Erin. As my husband, I no longer wanted him as my agent and, after some extensive disagreement, decided to appoint my favorites, Rafael and Tracy, as my new co-agents. I not only thought they would do a better job, but I also felt they deserved something for all their efforts toward my wedding.

  Erin was only too eager in his acceptance over his dismissal. A fact I later had him repent after careful persuasion from my part—carefully pleasurable bouts of persuasion of the carnal type. Hours were spent solely on ensuring he was suitably chastised for his eagerness in accepting his dismissal. Then, a couple of hours more in plain rejoice, and then more in celebration.

  We left the hotel that evening well after checkout time was due. Then, came the greatest conundrum of all. Where to next?

  “My place is nearer,” I said simply, so off we went to my home to start packing and shifting. The better part of the next two days was in packing then unpacking later at Erin’s. A storage unit was acquired to store my furniture and belongings, and then Erin’s friend and realtor stepped in to secure a tenant for my old home.

  My new home with
Erin also underwent a major upheaval. But the focus here had been on the classy but unused kitchen. I stocked it up with fresh foods and sinful foods then proceeded to cook up a storm simply because I could.

  Rafael was the first to visit me in my new home. Then Tracy. I persuaded both to stay over for dinner. We discussed their proposals for my body of work, delving into offers that should be accepted and those not to be considered. Erin was happy to provide his valuable insight, and his suggestions were welcome and heeded by all. It was only natural that our party of four extend past dinner, desert, and on to drinks.

  That we moved it later across town to a night club of some repute had been unexpected. But I was glad for it all the same. Wearing my sexiest clothes and stilettos to match, I spent that night dancing in Erin’s arms.

  But then, the final day was upon us. It had clearly taken longer than the one-week timeframe Erin had so carefully enunciated, and Tracy had so slyly agreed, but Erin’s grumbling over the delays had been put to rest with our registered marriage. So we were not so put out when the big day finally arrived. My hen’s night, and then, on the next bright morning, my grand wedding.

  “I cannot believe you want me to have a hen’s night!” I exclaimed indignantly, knowing full well he would be attending his own diversion, in a buck’s night. I sure as hell did not want him ogling some random bare-assed chick in some shady nightclub. Erin was a married man now. And more than anything, he belonged with me!

  “I don’t! Your agents do!”

  He was right, there. It wasn’t his fault. It was damn Rafael and Tracy’s fault. I glanced toward his dejected expression and was hard put not to go to him and offer up a cuddle.

  “We should just strip for each other and make do,” I muttered unhappily, sitting on his lap and snuggling up to him.

  “I am not having you put a show on for my friends. You can give me a private showing when I get back home. In fact, now that you mentioned it, I insist upon it.” Erin grinned down at me wickedly.