The Cora Carmack Box Set

by Cora Carmack

  Theatre is once in a lifetime . . . every time.

  It was like the stars aligned, because suddenly so many more things about my life became obvious. Things that had eluded me until now were laid plain in my mind. Everything made sense, and I couldn’t wait to see Garrick. Backstage was in an uproar when we left the stage after our final bows. Friends and family lined the halls between the stage door and the dressing rooms. Eric was there, smiling at us, proud of the show he’d put together. I hugged him first, so grateful that he gave me this chance, and that he didn’t dump me that first week when I was doing terrible.

  “Best work I’ve ever seen you do, Bliss. You should be proud.”

  I was, God, I was. My face felt split open by my smile.

  Garrick was behind him, and even though it was risky, I hugged him too. He didn’t hold me long, just long enough to whisper, “Brilliant,” in my ear.

  Then I lost myself in the crowd.

  I was slick with sweat, and my dress felt as heavy as another person hanging on me, but I relished the hugs and congratulations that poured over me.

  And when I was back in the dressing room . . .

  I danced.

  We all danced. Kelsey flipped on her iPod, and we celebrated as we peeled off the layers of our costumes. Our dressing room was filled with flowers, which helped to mask the sweat. When our things were put away, real clothes donned, and our stage makeup removed and real makeup re-applied, we moved the party elsewhere. We were heading to SideBar, the only bar close to campus that allowed people under twenty-one, a must when the whole cast was going.

  I was surprised to find Cade waiting outside the dressing room when we exited. He stepped up beside me. “Hey, can I give you a ride to SideBar?”

  That was surprising, but certainly welcome.

  I told him, “That would be great, but I was planning on leaving early. I’m pretty tired.”

  “Oh,” he nodded. “Well, do you mind if I ride with you, and I’ll just find another ride home after?”

  “Sure, that’s fine with me.”

  We walked to my car in silence, and I jangled my keys to fill the space with noise. I started the car, and immediately turned down the radio. “So, what’s up, Cade?”

  He fidgeted with his seatbelt. Nervous. He didn’t answer my question, but instead asked, “How are things with Garrick?”

  Frowning, I pulled out of the parking lot, watching him from the corner of my eye. “Why?”

  “I’m sorry. Is that weird? I didn’t mean for it to be weird, I was just trying to be friendly.”He looked so uncomfortable. How had we been reduced to this?

  I said, “It’s not weird, Cade. I’m sorry. I’m just . . . a little cautious is all. Things are great, actually.”

  He nodded, “Good. That’s good.”

  After spending so much time with Garrick, I’d forgotten what it was like to deal with guys who didn’t just say what they were thinking.

  “Just tell me what you want to talk about, Cade. Whatever it is, it’s fine.”

  He took a deep breath. He was still nervous, but he was no longer fidgeting. “I have a question, but I’m pretty sure it’s prying, and I just don’t want to cross any lines.”

  “Cade, I know things have been difficult. But I still consider you one of my best friends. I want you to be one of my best friends again. Ask me anything.”

  “Are you guys staying together after we graduate?”

  My gut reaction was, “Yes.” Even though we hadn’t really talked about it, not in so many words. We’d implied it, sure, with the whole ‘one month’ thing, but we hadn’t really had that conversation for real.

  “Are you staying here? Or moving to Philly? Or somewhere else?”

  I pulled into the parking lot, using searching for a space as an excuse to collect my thoughts. That was definitely not a conversation we’d had, no matter how much I had thought about it.

  “Why do you ask?”

  He ruffled his hair, and I resisted the urge to say, ‘Just spit it out already!’

  “Well . . . I applied to a grad school a few months ago before . . . well . . . before everything. And I hadn’t really thought I would go, but I got in, and now I’m thinking I might actually like it.”

  “Really? That’s great, Cade!”

  “It’s Temple, in Philly.”

  “Oh.” That was the school where Garrick had studied.

  “And I just wasn’t sure if the two of you were going to be in Philly, and if you thought it would be weird for me to be there, too. And if it’s not, I thought maybe we could still . . . you know, hang out. If that’s cool with Garrick.”

  An image started to form in my mind of what that life might be like. It was a pretty great thought.

  “I don’t know if we’ll be in Philly or not. But if we are . . . no, it won’t be weird. And yes, we’ll hang out. And Garrick can be cool or not cool with it; he doesn’t decide what I do. I meant what I said, Cade. I really do want us to be friends again.”

  He smiled, relaxed in his seat, finally. “Me too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CADE WASN’T THE only one thinking about the future. At SideBar, we did our fair share of celebrating and drinking and eating, but the talk soon turned sentimental. We shared memories of our first shows, classes we’d had together, parties that had gone horribly wrong. Rusty suggested we could have another make-out party, and he was pelted with napkins and bits of paper and even a hot roll.

  Just like with theatre—life sometimes has perfect moments when the stars all align, and you’re exactly where you want to be with great people, doing exactly what you want to do.

  Leaving college seemed impossible.

  I had never been happier than the four years I’d spent here. I looked around the table as people laughed and screamed (we only had one volume— really, loud). These people were my family. They understood me and knew me in ways that no one else did.

  I couldn’t imagine my life without them.

  “Uh-oh! Tears alert!” Kelsey cried, “Bliss is getting weepy!”

  I wiped at my eyes, and embarrassingly, she was right.

  “Shut up! I just love you guys, okay?”

  Kelsey’s arms enfolded me first, then Rusty, then Cade, and then I lost count.

  Rusty said, “Stop acting like we don’t have a month left together. I don’t know about you guys, but I have one hell of a college bucket list that I need you guys to help me fulfill. Starting with getting super drunk on my last opening night. So, let’s get started.”

  I ate and drank, just listening to the stories and conversations around me, soaking it all up. Life was good, and if I had my way, it was about to get even better.

  It was harder than I thought it would be to excuse myself after dinner was over. Not because I was nervous about what I planned to do tonight, I actually felt good about that, but because I didn’t want to leave my friends.

  It was a funny thing to miss people before you’d even left them, but that’s what I was feeling now.

  A little bit of melancholy stayed with me all the way out of the bar and into my car. But it didn’t take long for it to disappear in light of where I was heading. I didn’t text Garrick when I was on my way like I’d told him I would, because I wanted some time to get things ready.

  I took a quick shower, and then left my hair loose to dry curly, because Garrick liked it that way. It made me think of that night at the club, and my heart beat faster just at the memory.

  I found the Victoria’s Secret bag in the back of my closet that held the lingerie I’d bought specifically with this night in mind. I slipped it on, trying to imagine again exactly what Garrick might think or feel when he saw me.

  Looking in the mirror, I felt sexy, like he’d always said I was. I slipped back on the dress I’d worn after the show, not wanting to give anything away just yet. I tidied up my room, made sure there were condoms in the bedside table, and then took a seat on my bed.

  I was doing
this.

  I was really doing this.

  I was going to have sex with Garrick . . . tonight.

  Something bubbled up in my chest. At first I thought it was nerves, but then I recognized it. It was the same kind of feeling I got when I first found out I’d been cast as Phaedra and then again when the show had gone so well. It was something beyond excitement, something better.

  Because I could, I hopped up on my bed, and jumped. It felt good so I did it again. I flailed my arms because it seemed like the right thing to do, and then I covered my face with my hands and let out the quietest scream I could manage.

  “What are you doing?”

  Garrick was at the foot of my bed, an amused grin unfurled on his face. I squeaked and plopped back on to the bed.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I saw your car outside, so I came over. I didn’t realize you’d already started the party without me. I take it you’re excited about how the show went tonight?”

  I climbed off the bed as gracefully as I could (meaning with zero grace at all). I should have expected something like this. It seemed I was incapable of having an intimate moment with Garrick without doing something supremely embarrassing. At least this time it happened at the beginning.

  “The show was great, but I’m glad to be home.” I put a hand on his chest and he wrapped his arms around me in a hug.

  “You were great tonight, and now I get to have you all to myself.”

  I hadn’t really thought about the best way to approach what I wanted to do tonight. I’d thought about the lingerie and the condoms and the probable pain, but not so much the “Hey, I’m ready to have sex” talk.

  I mean, he was a guy, so I doubted very much he’d care about how I told him, but still . . . I wanted it to be right.

  “How was the celebration?” he asked.

  “Good, really good. I’m going to miss everyone when we graduate. It’s a little crazy to think that’s only a month away.”

  “One month.” He smiled, and leaned down for a kiss.

  I think he meant for the kiss to be quick, but I didn’t really give him a choice in the matter. I looped my arms around his neck to keep him down at my level, and pressed my lips more firmly against his. He hummed lightly, and the vibrations tingled my lips. His hand curled around my ribcage, and I wanted it higher, farther in. I wanted him touching me everywhere.

  When he was taking too long, I opened my mouth and traced the seam of his lips with my tongue. He let me in, and the taste of him was as addicting as always. With each brush of his tongue against mine, I felt more certain.

  I pulled my arms down from his neck, and slipped a hand underneath his shirt, pressing my fingertips into his back. His hands remained in safe places, my ribs and my neck, but I felt them twitch and tighten slightly at the skin to skin contact.

  He kept kissing me . . . slowly, safely.

  I slipped my other hand beneath his shirt, feeling the ridges of his abs, up to his chest. I hoped he would take the hint and move his own hand accordingly.

  He didn’t.

  Frustrated, I shifted him slightly until my bed pressed at the back of his knees and then I pushed. He sank on to the bed, and I wasted no time climbing on to his lap, pressing against him in much the same way I had that first night we’d almost had sex.

  “Bliss,” He whispered. It was almost a warning, but not quite there yet.

  I should probably tell him what I wanted, but the way he was kissing me, or more aptly the way he wasn’t kissing me made me feel unsure, desperate. He still wanted me. It told myself that. And I believed it. Mostly. I just needed a little more reassurance.

  I pulled back, and waited for his eyes to open, for him to watch me. When his eyes met mine, they were a bit too clear, too focused for my liking. I reached down and grabbed the hem of my dress. He made a noise in his throat when I started pulling it up, but I didn’t stop until I had it up and over my head. At first his eyes stayed resolutely on mine, but when I leaned forward, taking care to brush my chest against his, he looked down.

  His intake of breath was exactly what I’d been looking for.

  The strapless black bra was so tight that I had possibly the best cleavage I had ever or will ever have. And the panties, well, you could barely call them that.

  “Bliss,” This time, there definitely was a warning tone. “You’re overestimating my self-control.”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure I estimated your control perfectly.”

  I leaned forward until I was pressed tightly against his hips. My lips hovered over his, waiting for him to kiss me. I was done being on the offensive. It was his turn to come to me.

  As always, the anticipation alone was enough to do me in. His gaze darted between my eyes and my mouth, and now that I was down to only lingerie, his hands met my skin no matter where he put them. One was currently scalding my lower back, and other was fisted in my hair. I rocked my hips against him, and his hand in my hair tightened.

  “Bliss.” His response was choked, like he was in pain.

  I smiled. This was kind of fun.

  “Garrick,” I returned, eyes wide and as innocent as I could make them.

  “This is the opposite of slow.”

  I exhaled, swaying forward so that my bottom lip barely grazed his. I rubbed against him, grinding at the slowest pace I could. I said, “I think we’ve gone slow enough.”

  The arm at my back pulled me in more, until my chest pressed against his. He still had a shirt on. I wanted it gone.

  “What does that mean?” Ah, there was that look I loved—dark, a bit unfocused.

  “It means,” I said as my hands found the bottom of his shirt, “That I’m done going slow.”

  I pulled, and his arms followed automatically, allowing me to pull the shirt over his head before his hands went right back into their previous positions. Our chests met, skin sliding against skin, and he groaned. He said, “I’m going to need you to be very clear about what you’re saying right now, Bliss.”

  All right, it was time to just say it. And no euphemisms like beast with two backs or horizontal tango or anything ridiculous. Sex. If I was going to have it, I could sure as hell say it. I leaned in and kissed him for courage. To hell with making him come to me. That took too long. When I pulled back, his lips tried to follow. I appeased him with another quick kiss and said, “Make love to me?”

  Everything about him tensed—his hands on me, his gorgeous face, and his body beneath mine.

  “Bliss, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do for me.”

  “What about tonight has felt like I was being forced to do anything? In fact, I feel a little like I’m forcing you.”

  His lips crushed against mine—teeth and tongues and heat. It was just enough to make me shake with want, and then it was over.

  Garrick was panting when he replied, “You’re not forcing me to do anything. I just want you to be sure. You can say stop at anytime.” His lips pulled wide. “You don’t need to make up a new pet.”

  That grin . . . it was so infuriating and sexy at the same time.

  I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed away, standing up. “If you’re going to keep trying to talk me out of it . . .”

  I hadn’t even taken one full step away before he’d grabbed me, and spun so that my back hit the mattress. My breath left my lungs in a rush, and the sight of him prowling above me made heat curl low in my belly.

  “I wasn’t trying to talk you out of anything. I was trying to be a gentleman.”

  Huh. He’d tried to pull the gentleman card that first night, too. He was still hovering over me, and I looped my fingers into the belt loops on his jeans, and tugged him down on top of me.

  “Do me a favor? Be a gentleman tomorrow?”

  I was fairly certain he said, “Yes Ma’am,” but then he was kissing me, and I couldn’t care less.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  HE KISSED ME hard, and long enough that I could tas
te more of him in my mouth than myself. I dug my fingernails into his shoulders, because I had learned that every time I did, he pressed his hips harder against mine.

  If he weren’t careful, I would draw blood soon.

  His hands smoothed up my sides, sending shivers across my skin when he passed the sensitive spots. And finally, one hand stole around my back, reaching for the clasp of my bra.

  His lips left mine for the hollow of my neck, His chin, once again covered in scruff grazed the top of my breasts.

  I arched up toward him at the same moment that the snaps on my bra came undone. The cold air hardened my nipples into little buds, and I ached for him to touch me. He said once that we could own each other, and I wanted nothing more in that moment. Garrick kissed down between my breasts, his cheeks grazing slightly across the swells. I dug my fingernails in again, and his hips pressed down at the same moment that he took one breast into his hand and the other into his mouth. Something sparked beneath my skin, and I moaned, bucking up against him in response.

  He rolled one nipple between his fingers, and the other he squeezed lightly between his teeth, and I could feel darkness creeping in on my vision.

  Words streamed from my mouth, some familiar, some not.

  The last of which was, “I love you.”

  He rose up off me with a grin. “If I’d known it was that easy to get you to admit how you feel, I would have done this a long time ago.”

  My brain was beyond responding with words. Instead my hands found his belt. I unbuckled it, and then flicked open the button to his jeans.

  His cheeky smile was gone now.

  Slowly, I pulled down his zipper, and the sound alone made a moan rise in my throat. I pushed his jeans and boxers down together. When he pulled back to shuck his pants off completely, I took the moment to slip my panties down and off, and grab a condom from my drawer.

  When he looked up, he froze for a second in shock, as if he just now realized how serious I was. He shook it off quickly, and swooped in for a kiss.