“Is this what I think it is?” Jac asked, rubbing her hands together like a giddy schoolgirl.
“Chocolate soufflé with Chantilly cream. Enjoy.”
“Oh my God, I’m going to get fat if you keep cooking for me.” She dipped her spoon into the treat and ate greedily. Sasha watched, letting the chocolate dissolve on her tongue—light and airy. The sweetness of the sugar offset the vanilla in the cream perfectly.
“I’m gonna get fat and I don’t even care,” Jac said before dropping into silence while she finished her dessert. When she finally dropped her spoon back to her bowl, she looked at Sasha and said, “Pam didn’t even like this stuff?”
“Nope. Nada. Nothing chocolate whatsoever.”
“She didn’t deserve you.”
Ducking her head, Sasha smiled shyly and pulled her lip between her teeth as she reached for Jac’s bowl. Jac caught hold of her hand.
“Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?”
Sasha looked up. Jac’s eyes were smoky, her pupils dilated, and her lips glistened in the light of the kitchen. Oh yes, Sasha had a pretty good idea how much Jac wanted to kiss her. Almost as much as Sasha wanted her to.
Pushing the crockery away from her, Sasha reached out to touch Jac’s cheek. She ran her fingertips from the hairline at her temple to the edge of her jaw, just below her ear.
“Then why are you all the way over there?”
Inch by inch, Jac leant towards her. “I was waiting for an invitation.”
Sasha slid the tip of her index finger along the underside of Jac’s strong jawline to her chin and leant her weight on the forearm resting on the island unit. She licked her lips and watched Jac’s pupils widen further. Her heart beat wildly, and part of her wished Jac would hurry up and get on with it while the other part exalted in the delicious anticipation. Her eyelids grew heavy and she knew her own gaze was as hooded with desire as Jac’s was.
Trailing her fingertip down the length of Jac’s neck until she got to the V at the base of her throat, she whispered, “Consider it sent.”
Then Jac’s lips were on hers; warm, wet, and wanting, tasting of chocolate and wine, which made them taste all the sweeter. Despite having expected the kiss, Sasha gasped at it, the passion and speed of it taking her by very pleasant surprise. Jac’s tongue slid between Sasha’s parted lips and inside, searching and exploring to her heart’s content. Sasha was more than willing to oblige.
She wrapped her hand around Jac’s neck, then up into her hair, indulging in the contrasting sensations of short-cropped hair prickling her palm one instant and silky-soft strands falling through her fingers the next. Wrapping her other arm around Jac’s shoulders, Sasha shivered in delight. Jac’s hands ran up her arms and slipped around her back, pulling her closer. The angle shifted, and Sasha realised Jac had climbed off her stool to position herself between Sasha’s legs. She pulled her body closer.
Sasha tipped her head back to maintain the kiss, her mouth opening wider for Jac to plunder. And plunder she did. Her hands were in Sasha’s hair, travelling the length of her back, caressing her throat, her cheeks, her jaw, and all the while her tongue sought to memorise every millimetre of Sasha’s mouth. Her own tongue joined the dance, back and forth, until she whispered Jac’s name on a breath.
Panting, Jac rested her forehead against Sasha’s and wrapped her arms around her waist in a gentle hug.
Sasha leant into the embrace, snaking her arms around Jac’s waist, eyes closed as she tried to absorb every sensation still flying through her.
“Wow,” Jac whispered.
“Yeah.” Sasha opened her eyes and was greeted by a shyly smiling Jac. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes shone with more than just desire.
“You okay?”
Sasha nodded.
“You sure?”
Sasha nodded again.
Jac’s grin widened. “Can you speak?”
Sasha grinned too and shook her head.
“I’ve rendered you speechless.”
“Hm, yeah, I’m lost for words.”
“Ah, you found them again.”
“Looks like it.” She reached up to cup Jac’s cheek, soft and gentle, and traced the contour of those high cheekbones. “I think I should say goodnight.”
Jac’s smile turned into a frown. “Really? It’s still early.”
“I know. But I think it’s for the best.” She stood, grateful her knees didn’t give out.
“Are we…?”
Sasha waited but Jac didn’t say anything. “Are we what?”
“Are we okay? Did I just ruin everything?”
“Not at all.” Sasha smiled and placed a soft, chaste kiss to Jac’s lips. “I’m working on that no-expectations thing, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Jac’s frown was still there.
Sasha smoothed away the crease between her brows. “I’ve never been the kind of woman to do more than kiss from the get-go, but I’m not sure how many more of those kisses I could take before I’d be willing to let you do just about anything to me, Jac Kensington.”
Jac’s smile slid slowly back into place. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, so, goodnight.” She couldn’t resist kissing those soft lips once more. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight, Sasha.”
Glancing over her shoulder as she walked through the door, Sasha smiled at Jac as she leant against the island unit, hair all messy, shirt askew, a sloppy grin on her face. A sloppy grin that was tainted with Sasha’s lipstick. Grr, sometimes being a good girl is bloody torture.
Chapter 16
Sasha watched as Jac drove away after dropping her home. The morning was bleak and wet, and a fog hung across the city, dampening everything it touched. Except Sasha’s spirits. They were still soaring from the magical, wonderful, incredible experience of Jac’s kiss.
No expectations, remember? Just enjoy it for what it was. Bliss.
She took a deep breath and hung her coat on the peg by the door, noting the man’s tartan flat cap and heavy tweed coat next to her mum’s. A tartan flat cap? I didn’t know Mr Hunt was Scottish.
“Mum?”
Nip meowed at her from halfway up the stairs, her slanted green eyes watching her with intent. Sasha was just never sure if that intent was good or bad. Affection could sometimes take a dangerous turn with Nip. If she offered her belly for stroking, proceed with caution. She wasn’t called Nip because of her fondness for catnip.
“Are you still waiting on breakfast?”
“Meow.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Come on, then.” Nip followed her into the kitchen, then wound herself around Sasha’s legs as she filled the bowl with dry kibble, then emptied a pouch of gelatinous-covered chunks of what-might-be-meat on top—Nip’s preferred presentation—and put it down on the floor for her. She crouched beside her and stroked her head while she ate, purring so loud she sounded like a small tractor engine humming away. “I wish you were always this easy to please, Nip. Now,” she said, standing, “let’s go see where our mother’s at.”
She looked up the stairs with trepidation, one hand on the bannister, one foot on the first step as she whispered to herself, “People have sex. They sleep in the same bed. And your mother’s no different. She’s a grown woman, and she’s more than capable of making her own decisions about these things.”
She took the second step and crossed herself. “Wait, which way round does that go again?” She closed her eyes and tried to picture it, but for some reason her mind had gone blank as she continued up the stairs.
“Oh, I remember that rhyme. How did it go again?” She cast her mind back for the childhood rhyme she and her friends had run around the playground chanting with their Catholic friends. “Erm, I think it was, ‘spectacles, testicles, wallet, then watch’.” She ran it through h
er mind a few times. “Yeah, that’s it. But which side was the wallet, and which one was the watch?”
Unable to remember, she opted to go from left to right and hope God wasn’t in one of his-slash-her moods today if she’d got it wrong.
She stepped onto the landing and froze.
“I think… Oh yeah, that’s good.” A man’s voice drifted towards her from the partially open bedroom door at the end of the hallway.
Sasha screwed up her eyes and turned to start back down the stairs. Hopefully loud TV and lots of wine would help. “I’m not a prude,” Sasha said to herself, “I just don’t need to hear her doing that. I mean I never heard her and Dad going at it.”
“Oh, that’s definitely better without yer teeth in, lass.”
The grunt that accompanied the sentence was enough to send Sasha running down the last steps.
“Must have been the other way around.” She could hear the whimper in her own voice as she thought of her clearly fucked-up crossing herself. God must be pissed.
She grabbed her bag and coat and opened the door.
“That was too much for anyone to be subjected too.” She shuddered and slipped into her coat as she made her way down the street to Bobbi’s house, hoping she wasn’t working. Thankfully, Bobbi’s house was a house share and someone was always in, so at least she wouldn’t be left out in the cold if Bobbi wasn’t there. She checked her watch; it was only nine thirty in the morning. On a Saturday morning. Most of Bobbi’s housemates would have been out the night before.
“Oh, well, I can knock loud. I’d rather piss off Bobbi’s housemates than go back home right now.”
She rounded the corner and spotted Bobbi as she was getting into her car.
“Bobbi! Hey, wait up!”
Bobbi leaned on the roof of her car. “Sorry, Sash, I’m on my way to Zumba class.”
“On a Saturday morning?”
“I know, great. Right?”
“Right. I don’t suppose I could get a ride with you, could I?”
“’Course. Jump in.” Bobbi waited until they were on the A6 before asking, “You want me to drop you off somewhere?”
Sasha shook her head. “Nah, do you mind if I wait for you? I’ll just get a coffee from the café or something.”
“Nah, that’s cool. How come you’re not spending the day with your mum?”
She could feel her face contort.
“Uh-oh. You and Fleur are arguing again.”
“No, she already has plans, that’s all.”
“Plans? Without you?”
“Yup. With Mr Hunt.” Sasha shuddered again as the memory of those words echoed in her head.
“Who’s Mr Hunt?”
“You remember the old guy that moved across the street from us a couple of years ago?”
“Erm…”
“Has the terrier that pees up your wheels.”
“Oh yeah. Bastard.”
“That’s Mr Hunt.”
“Okay. So, what’re they doing? Why don’t you just go with ’em?”
“Not going to happen. If they’re looking for someone else to join them, I really don’t want to know about it.”
Bobbi looked confused as she merged into another lane, readying herself for the right turn across traffic.
“Well, I was ordered to stay out last night—for the second time—and this morning when I got home, there was moaning.”
“Moaning?”
“And grunting.”
“Grunting?”
“And a comparison between teeth and no teeth.”
“No teeth?”
“Yes, and I think I need to bleach my brain.”
“Because of teeth?”
“Fellatio, Bobbi. Keep up.”
“I’m trying, but you’re not making much sense.”
“Don’t make me say it any more clearly.” Sasha watched Bobbi’s face as she put together the pieces Sasha had laid out. Fleur. Mr Hunt. Moaning. Grunting. No teeth.
“Ew.”
“Exactly.”
“Why couldn’t you have just said, ‘Bobbi, trust me,you don’t want to know?’ I would have been cool with that explanation.” She banged her hand to her head like she was trying to dislodge the image from her brain.
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“No, I wouldn’t, but you could’ve tried.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
Bobbi sighed and shook her head again and missed a gap in the traffic she would have been able to turn through. “Bitch.”
“Not my fault.”
They sat in silence while Bobbi waited for another gap. Sasha wrestled her mind onto a different topic and naturally landed on Jac and that perfect kiss. She could still feel the soft heat of Jac’s lips on her own. Falling asleep last night had taken forever. All she’d been able to think about was Jac somewhere in the apartment sleeping. Did she sleep naked or was she wearing pyjamas? Should she take the opportunity and go find her? Clearly Jac would have been happy to continue where that kiss had left off.
Jac’s shy demeanour when she’d poured coffee and handed her a plate of toast this morning had been a revelation. She’d expected Jac to be perhaps a little blasé about their kiss. Maybe even try for another, but no. Jac hadn’t pushed it, and hadn’t mentioned it, yet it had been acknowledged between them. The brush of Jac’s fingers across the back of her hand when she’d taken the plate. The way she’d helped Sasha into her coat at the door. Even the brush of Jac’s hand on her shoulder. All sweet, affectionate, and so damn endearing. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be stepping firmly out of living-in-the-moment territory and straight into expectations.
When Bobbi parked, Sasha realised she’d managed to daydream her way through almost the whole twenty-minute drive to the leisure centre. “Sorry,” she mumbled and climbed out of the car.
“It’s all right.” Bobbi locked it behind them, leading Sasha across the car park. “Come on, my class starts in ten minutes.”
Sasha grinned. “Maybe I’ll find a seat by the window and pull faces at you through the glass.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Why not? I need to have a little bit of fun today.”
“If you do, I’ll make you think about things that will scar you for the rest of your life.”
“After this morning, you’re too late.”
“Wanna bet?”
Sasha planted her hands on her hips and lifted an eyebrow.
“Wonder how many of those little blue pills he has to take—”
Sticking her fingers in her ears, Sasha started singing, “La la la,” as she ran through the door and away from Bobbi’s evil laughter.
Chapter 17
The set was a two-sided representation of an auditorium, complete with a piano on the stage, hanging lights, and red-velvet–covered seats with their backs to the camera. Vanessa and Becca were on the stage, playing and replaying the scene so the cameras could get all the angles they needed for this first significant meeting between the two main characters. They needed shots of Becca at the piano and of Vanessa singing her heart out as she auditioned for a music professor in the audience. They weren’t rolling the tape until the afternoon, but the camera guys were determined to know where everyone was to be positioned before they broke for lunch.
Jac was pleased with the attention to detail the set builders had gone to. It looked great and really captured the mixture of anxiety and hope that lingered in the air in every theatre Jac had ever set foot in.
She glanced over at Sasha and watched her scribbling some notes on her script, then pushing her hair behind her ear as she watched the actors on set, and then scribbling some more. Movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention from Sasha to Bobbi as she wandered across the edge of the set, tripped over a power cable, and almost knocked
over a fake wall. Jac rolled her eyes as one of the production assistants ran over to help her up and stabilise the wall before it toppled over and buried them both. Sasha seemed so lost in her notes that she didn’t even look up at the commotion. Jac hoped she managed to hide the smirk she could feel tugging at her lips, and the distinct feeling she’d just won a point in a game she hadn’t realised she was playing.
“Problem?” Jac asked, leaning close to her ear to make sure she got her attention.
“No, just a few notes where they might be able to put different emphasis to bring out some nuances when we start filming this afternoon.”
Jac nodded, pleased that Sasha was being so diligent, and she wondered if her notes corresponded with Jac’s own. “Can we get together at lunch and see if we’re on the same page?”
“I’d like that.” Sasha glanced up and smiled shyly.
Me too.
“Jac, I don’t think this scene is working,” Vanessa said from her position behind the desk on the set.
There was a mutiny afoot. “Here we go,” Jac said to Sasha. “And why’s that, Vanessa?”
Vanessa launched into her thoughts and motivations, and Jac found herself tuning out. The scene was working. Vanessa’s ideas were simply over the top and too dramatic. But Jac had often found letting the actor try it one way, one time, was a quicker solution to ridding them of these interruptions and getting the actors to trust her vision for the project than to get into running battles with them every single day. So she let Vanessa try it her way and asked everyone for their feedback. The other actors, camera crew, sound techs, even the make-up and wardrobe gang, got to weigh in on it. Everyone agreed it was too much, and Vanessa’s ideas were put away. Mutiny averted.
By the time lunch rolled around, Jac was more than ready for a break.
“Bitch,” Sophie said as she slid sandwich bags across the conference table Jac, Sasha, Sophie, and Mags were now all seated around. The door was still open. Bobbi walked past the door…slowly. Once. Then again, slower. Sasha had her back to the door, and Jac knew they had things to discuss over lunch. Things that didn’t involve the ever-present Bobbi and her cling-on tendencies. If it hadn’t been getting in the way Jac could almost feel sorry for the woman. She was clearly not dealing with the changes in their friendship well, but she’d been the one to instigate it all. She’d been the one to enter Sasha in the competition—without her permission or knowledge—so what was with all this…clinging? Why couldn’t she just grow up and get on with it?
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