“Are you going someplace special later?”
“I have a date tonight.” I have no clue what made me say that.
“Oh,” he mutters under his breath. “That guy you went out to lunch with?”
I flash a smile. “Yes.” Well, it’s true.
He knits his brows. “Your boyfriend, right?”
“Yeah.” That’s true, too, depending on how you interpret the word “boyfriend.”
He frowns and I change the subject. “I brought your sides. Two copies like you asked.” I slide them out of the folder I’m holding and hand them to him.
He hands one stapled set back to me. “I need you to rehearse the first scene with me.”
My breath hitches. To be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to his sides. I just hit print and threw them into a folder.
“Sure, no problem.”
“You should study the lines and then we’ll work on them.”
With the sides in hand, I plop down on the leather chair closest to him. I can feel his eyes on me as I read over the scene. I cross my legs to quell the sudden tingly sensation between them.
With every word, my pulse quickens and chest tightens. And I grow heated. It’s one of those flashbacks with Kurt Kussler and his late wife. A love scene. An explicit one that takes place shortly before Alisha is brutally executed by Kurt’s nemesis, The Locust.
“Okay. I know the lines.” My voice falters. The scene is so sensual and moving. I’m fraught with emotion.
Brandon lifts a brow. “So quickly?”
“Yes,” I stutter. “I have an eidetic memory.”
“What’s that?”
“The extraordinary ability to look at anything or anyone and remember everything about them after only a few moments of exposure.”
“Wow. So like a super-memory?”
“You can call it that.” It’s weird that I can remember everything and he can’t remember a thing.
My photographic memory is the reason I’ve never forgotten what Mama’s killer looks like. Even as a five-year old, I was able to explain to the police sketch artist every detail of his face though I only laid eyes on him for a brief moment. And it’s the reason I keep reliving the day of Brandon’s accident. You’d think by now it would be a blur, but every vivid detail fills my mind while every unforgettable emotion sweeps through my veins. The heart has a memory too. His pool of blood…my ocean of tears. The fear and despair. The pain. My beating heart is an emotional watershed, the back of my eyes a veritable damn.
Brandon’s voice breaks into my inner turmoil and brings me back to the moment. “You okay?”
I take a deep breath to calm myself. “Yeah. It’s a very powerful scene. Let’s do it.”
“I want to rehearse it in the shower.”
My jaw drops and my stomach knots. “What?”
“That’s where it takes place. It’ll help me really feel it.”
“B-but the scene calls for you and Alisha to be bared to each other.” I know they use body part cover-ups, but still it requires undressing. I’m bristling all over.
“You can keep your clothes on. I’ll do the same. We’ll just pretend we’re undressed.”
My heart pounding, I process his words. His eyes stay riveted on me as if he’s mentally undressing me. Fully clothed, I already feel so exposed. So vulnerable. So aroused.
“And we’ll pretend the shower is running, right?”
“Wrong. We’ve got to go all the way.”
I gulp, reading much more into his words than I should. I struggle for a comeback. “What about my outfit? It’ll get all wet.”
“Make that the least of your worries. I’ll get it dry cleaned or buy you something new in time for your hot date.”
“Fine,” I splutter. My panties already need to be rung out. He’s right. I’m worried about a lot more.
Brandon’s bathroom is a spacious, state-of-the-art retreat, and like the rest of the house, it offers dazzling views of the city. Today, I can even see as far as the Pacific Ocean. There’s an oversized whirlpool tub and a separate glass-enclosed shower that’s virtually the size of a room. A dozen people could easily fit inside it.
“Are you ready?” asks Brandon as he turns on the shower. It’s one of those luxury hi-tech showers with a multitude of knobs. To my wide-eyed amazement, the water gushes from the ceiling like a waterfall. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The room steams up instantly.
“Take your shoes off.”
Kicking off my platforms, I’m having second thoughts. Anxiety is pulsing through my bloodstream and my stomach is twisting. But before I can change my mind, he takes me by my hand and leads me into the stall. The water pounds on us, soaking us quickly. In a couple breaths, we’re as wet as two drowned rats.
“This is kind of fun,” he laughs, shaking his dripping wet mop of ebony hair out of his eyes.
“Yeah,” I laugh back, drinking in the contours of his rippled muscles that strain against his drenched tee. I gleefully tilt back my head and rake my fingers through my hair. Droplets of water catch on my tongue. I’m reminded of being a little kid and running through the sprinklers with my clothes on. It was something naughty and fun.
“Okay, now let’s get serious. Do you remember your lines?”
I meet his glistening eyes. “Of course.”
“Good,” he says with a sexy lopsided smile. Without fair warning, he flips me around. His powerful arms circle my waist and draw me close to him. His hard body presses tight against mine. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest. My heart pitter-patters, and I’m glad for the forceful spray that washes out the sound.
“Now, remember. I’m Kurt Kussler and you’re my beloved wife Alisha. We’re insanely in love. Two kindred souls united by body and mind.”
I nod like a bobble-head doll. Words are stuck behind a big lump in my throat. I just hope I can say my lines.
“Ready? Here goes.”
I nod again. I’m wired up. Every nerve in my body is buzzing.
“Baby, did I ever tell you how sexy you are?” Brandon, I mean Kurt, breathes into my ear.
“No.” Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I try to remember this is just make-believe.
“Well, I’m telling it to you now, Mrs. Kussler.” He parts my wet hair and, then wrapping his arms around me again, he nuzzles my neck. I flinch in his brawny arms at the feeling of his soft lips touching down on my flesh. Tingles swarm me.
And then he gropes my big tits, circling my nipples with his thumbs. My buds instantly harden under my clingy wet tank and another rush of tingly sparks descends to my sex. It’s as if my tits and my pussy are connected by a power cord. Holy shit! He’s turned up the steam.
As called for by the script, I moan. But to be honest, I can’t help it. As he continues to nibble my neck and tweak my tits, my knees go weak. To my relief, an arm curls around my waist and holds me up. A trail of kisses travels down my spine, sending a shiver up it despite the heat. He lifts his other hand off my tit and cups the ample cheeks of my ass in his palm. He squeezes and caresses them.
“I love every part of you,” he breathes against my neck.
I’m so caught up in the scene I almost forget my line. “You’re everything to me, Kurt.”
He draws me closer to him, and to my shock, he slips the hand holding me up under the waistband of my skirt. His fingers slide down my abdomen until they’re cupped over the crotch of my drenched cotton undies, covering my pulsing pussy like a glove. Hissing, he leaves his hand there for a few heated breaths, and then begins to rub my clit until the sensitive bundle of nerves is a bubbling nub.
“Do you like this?”
Oh my God. Was this in the script? Am I supposed to say something? I’ll just ad-lib. “Oh yes. Please don’t stop.” My voice is a breathy, desperate plea.
“Don’t worry, that’s not happening.” For real? He continues to rub my clit vigorously. “You’re so hot for me, baby.”
I’m on fire. And if he o
nly knew how really wet I am. Soaked with lust and desire. My breathing grows harsh. I may either jump out of my skin or faint. My burning need to come is consuming me. Taking over every ounce of my being. To make matters worse, the hardness between his legs grazes my backside. Holy cow! He’s as aroused as I am! Are we acting or is this for real? The line is blurred in the haze of steam.
“I love you, Bra… um, uh Kurt.” Fuck. I almost flubbed my line.
“The same, baby. I can’t get enough of you.”
He flips me around so I’m facing him. His biceps flex as his deft hands grip my bare upper arms. I soak in his impassioned face, dripping with lust, his thick-lashed eyes smoldering with desire. I brush away a wisp of his slick hair that’s fallen into his eye. I think the script called for that.
Moving his hands to my face, he tilts it up, his eyes never losing contact with mine. His head moves forward. Holy smoke! He’s going to kiss me! Maybe I missed that part in the script. My whole body quivers as his lips touch down on mine. Oh my God! It’s a veritable movie star kiss—deep, passionate, all-consuming. A kiss like none other. Thinking I may swoon, I moan again into his mouth and dig my fingernails into his hard biceps. He bites down on my lower lip, and then his tongue darts inside my parted mouth. It finds mine and we tango like we’ve danced this way forever. Whirling and swirling, my tongue follows his lead. I moan again—I’m not sure if that’s scripted—but I just can’t help it. Every muscle in my body is trembling with anticipation and desire. Without breaking the kiss, he draws me closer to him and starts grinding against me.
“Alisha, my love, let’s make a baby.”
The baby they will never see. Alisha, of course, doesn’t know this yet, and the thought of the tragedy that awaits her brings tears to my eyes. They mingle with the stinging needles of water, cascading over us while my character’s cherished husband and lover grinds harder and faster with urgency and zeal, rubbing against my aching clit. It’s all pretend, yet it feels so real. I can feel his swelling erection, straining against his soaked jeans and pulsating against me. It’s so hard, so hot, so ready to come. Clutching his shoulders, I fight the urge to slide a hand down to his fly and touch his extraordinary length. A bizarre thought crosses my mind—dry humping someone has never been this wet. I’m soaked through and through, so close to the edge. There’s a hot ball of fire between my legs the water can’t quench, and on his next thrust, I combust with a deafening scream of his name. I’m so enraptured, I don’t know if I’ve shouted out Kurt or Brandon, but who cares when his face contorts with pure ecstasy and he roars out, “Oh, baby.”
Fade to black. I free myself from him and lean against the all-glass shower. Barely able to stand on my trembling legs, I collapse into a squat. My pussy’s throbbing, my mind’s murky, and my heart’s working hard. Brandon joins me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. Like mine, his breathing is shallow. He looks as shell-shocked as I feel. In a cloud of steam, we sit silently side by side, our bent legs touching, until our breaths and heartbeats calm down. The shower’s still on, the forceful spray still grazing us. The sound of the pounding water replaces the drum of my pulse in my ears. Brandon finally breaks our long, stunned silence.
“Wow. You’re a really good actress.”
“Thanks.” I don’t tell him I’ve had to be.
“Did you ever consider becoming one?”
I tell him I did and even took a few acting lessons. “But the truth is, there aren’t enough parts around for a girl like me so I decided to become a full-time masseuse.” I also don’t tell him that I took his assistant position with the remote hope of breaking into the biz.
Twisting, he sweeps away a tangle of hair that’s dangling in my eyes. “Well, I think you missed your calling.”
“Thanks.” My voice is a soft whisper.
“No, thank you. You really helped me. I’ve got the scene down now.”
“No prob. That’s part of my job.” I pause. “You were amazing.” Oh was he! My head is already set on instant replay.
He smiles. “I may need your help again. It’s been rough getting back into the swing of things.”
“Sure. Anytime.” I’m in love with Kurt Kussler, but I’m not supposed to fall for Brandon Taylor. That wasn’t in my job description. And besides, he can never be mine. He was just acting. Nothing was real. My heart grows heavy, soaked with reality.
Chapter 23
Brandon
“Take that, you asshole!”
POW!
“I’m not done with you!” I grunt.
POW! POW! POW! POW!
Sweat pours from every crevice of my bare-chested body. Breathing heavily, I give the punching bag another hard punch, and then I prepare to give it a roundhouse kick. Distracted, I miss and I end up on my ass.
Cursing under my breath, I punch the gleaming hardwood floor of my fully equipped, spacious home gym. So hard, it hurts. Damn that girl! And this isn’t the first time I’ve messed up. On account of my debilitating coma, I’m physically not in as good shape as I should be and mentally, I’m even worse off. I can’t focus.
All afternoon, I’ve been working on the other scene I’m shooting tomorrow. An action-packed one in which I’ve got to battle one of The Locust’s henchmen. Hand to hand combat. I read online that I choreograph and do all my own stunts so I thought putting on some sweats and working out with a punching bag in my gym would be the most effective way to go. And to be honest, I thought a hard workout would get my mind off Zoey and release some of my pent-up energy. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that shower. I’ve been reliving it in my head like I’m the one with an eidetic memory, my throbbing cock a relentless reminder. I let myself get carried away, and I’m not sure if I was acting or not. That inexplicable attraction I have to my curvy assistant drove the emotion of every line and took me way beyond my scripted physical moves. I kissed her like I meant it, and for the first time since my accident, I had a mind-blowing orgasm. I swear she knocked me into outer space. Sent my head spinning, no pun intended. My cock gave me a standing ovation for my performance and it still hasn’t calmed down. It’s like it’s begging for an encore, but all it’s getting is a replay. Brain to cock: Listen, buddy, I’m engaged. In fact, Katrina and I have a dinner date to finish the discussion we started this morning about our wedding. I’m meeting her in an hour.
Daylight morphs into dusk. Evening still comes early in mid-January. Picking myself up from the floor, I grab a towel and my cell phone that I left close by on a barbell bench. Throwing the towel around my neck, I slog over to the floor-to-ceiling window. My muscles ache almost as much as my cock. With a groan, I gaze out the glass pane, taking in the gray-pink sky and the glimmering lights of Los Angeles that dance in its midst. In the near distance, I glimpse Zoey’s guest cottage. The lights are burning bright. I haven’t seen her for hours. Mostly, she was out and about running errands for me. I did call her a couple times to check on her whereabouts and gave her a few dumb things to do like having my freshly laundered jeans pressed just so I could hear her voice. I acted like her boss when I wanted to act like her lover. And she fell for it.
Then, she took me up on my offer and gave me a rude reminder. Texting me from the dry cleaner, she told me he couldn’t get her outfit done in time for her “hot” date. The skirt might even be ruined for good. My father was a man of honor and always told me never to break my word. So, I told her to go shopping and buy something new. Stupid me! I should have gone with her to monitor her selection to make sure it had a turtleneck and was two sizes too big.
My skin prickles with sweat. Clenching my cell phone, I text her.
I want to see what u bought.
That’s right. My money. My eyes first. I swear if her new outfit’s too sexy, I’m going to make her take it off. Even if I’m the one who has to do it.
Awaiting her reply, the rumble of a sports car in my driveway resounds in my ears.
Ping. Her response.
Too late. I’m out the
gate. Off on my date. :)
The nerve of her to add a happy face! Get your ass back here is what I want to write back. The words are burning on my fingertips. Instead, I squeeze my phone like I want to strangle it. My blood is curdling with helpless rage. And it’s turning green with uncontrollable jealousy. An emotion I know I’ve never experienced even with my amnesia. Seething, I pivot toward the punching bag. I need to punch it again. This time pretending it’s that fucking boyfriend. And giving it to him until he cries.
Halfway there, my cell phone vibrates in my hand. Loosening my grip, I glance down at the caller ID screen. The face of a beautiful blonde meets my eyes. Dammit. Katrina.
Reluctantly, I answer.
“Darling, I just wanted to make sure you’re getting ready. Our reservation is at seven.”
It’s been almost two weeks since I came out of my coma. I still feel nothing toward her except growing dislike.
My reservation has nothing to do with time.
Chapter 24
Zoey
I pick at my spicy tuna roll with my chopsticks. Popular Sushi Roku is one of my favorite restaurants and usually I binge out on their outrageous rolls. But tonight I have no appetite. Since that shower with Brandon, I’ve felt sick to my stomach. I almost canceled my date with Jeffrey. But when he told me he was feeling down because Chaz was away for a few days doing trunk shows in the Midwest, I didn’t have the heart to let him down. Jeffrey’s always been there for me just as I have for him.
“What’s wrong, Zoester?” asks my perceptive brother. “You don’t seem yourself. Are you sick or something?”
I am sick. Lovesick. I’m crushing on my boss. People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.” A man I can never have. Should I tell him? All my life, I’ve told Jeffrey everything. Even my weight when it was at its highest. After a quick mental debate, I decide not to. I make up an excuse that’s partially true.
“I had a hard day with Brandon.” Oh was it hard!
Unforgettable: The Complete Series (A Sexy Cinderella Standalone Love Story) Page 14
