by Dani McLean
Ouch.
Audrey had just laid out my history, and while it was hardly a lie that I hadn’t had any long-term romantic relationships in recent years—hell, it was something Sarah harped about at least once every time we saw each other—it hurt to hear it from Audrey.
Especially when she was holding it up as the exact reason she was interested in me.
Because, in her mind, we would never be anything more than sex.
The disappointment was palpable, but I hid it. I liked her a lot, and I wanted to be with her. And if the only way to have that was to keep it casual, then I’d take what I could get.
“So you’ve never had a serious girlfriend?” Audrey ventured when I still hadn’t said anything.
“Not for a few years,” I said, although it had probably been longer than that. “I’ve been too focused on my career. Even before starting on the show, it was a constant grind, each role or opportunity making the next one possible. And once we knew the show was a hit, it didn’t stop. It’s a bit of a double-edged sword—the more you build up your rep, the less worried you have to be about being offered work, but the more you’re expected to do for the public.” I threaded our fingers together and noted how well we fit, fighting the urge to say that to her. “It’s hard to offer much to someone else in those circumstances.”
“You must have dated a lot of beautiful women.” I heard the insecurity behind her statement.
“Yes. In fact, I’m seeing a gorgeous senior account manager right now.”
She snorted. “You know what I mean.”
“Audrey, I don’t know how to break it to you, but you’re beautiful. Seriously.”
“I know! Thank you. I guess I’m just not used to hearing it from someone else.”
While I was glad she could acknowledge it herself, it made me wonder why she wasn’t comfortable hearing it from others. Again, I wondered what the hell her idiot of an ex must have been thinking.
In fact, I was curious about several things regarding him, which was probably why I didn’t stop myself from asking, “Do you ever regret getting married?”
“Sometimes.” There was so much unsaid in that one word, and I wished she felt comfortable enough that she could tell me everything behind it.
Her tone was pensive when she spoke again. “Do you think all relationships are doomed?”
This time I turned to look at her. “That’s dark.”
Her brow creased, but she was mostly contemplative. “Is it? I guess my experience isn’t really a good example.” There it was again, that glimpse into her past that she wasn’t ready to share with me. Ever since the night we had met at the bar when she’d mentioned that all she’d wanted to be “was enough,” I’d wanted to know what it was that had brought her to this point.
A tilt of her head. “Or maybe I’m wondering what the secret is.”
“The secret to relationships?”
“To making it last.”
“I … don’t think there is one.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Is that why you don’t want anything serious?”
“Maybe …” She sighed.
“Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”
“Um, I don’t know, I hadn’t really given it much thought. It seems so far off, I guess. But yeah, I think I would if I met the right person. But I definitely wouldn’t bother with all the bells and whistles the second time around. Ugh, to think of all the money I could have saved if we hadn’t bothered with guest favors,” she groaned.
I found it easier to laugh with her than to deal with the block of ice that had just formed in my stomach.
Later, after Audrey had gone home, I laid in bed wondering how the hell I’d gone and fallen for such an incredible woman when the last thing she wanted was to date me.
18
Audrey
The thing about Jackson’s apartment was that it was obvious that the whole place had come pre-packaged, although it at least looked lived in. Jackson’s room was the only place that looked exclusively like him, furnished in dark charcoals, navy, and a smattering of dirty clothes. The only other uniquely him piece in the place was the cluttered shelving unit that acted as the divider between the living and dining areas. What was probably once very minimally arranged knick-knacks was now a litter of books, scripts, show memorabilia, framed pictures of his family, and some selected fan gifts.
I was enjoying some well-earned post-orgasmic bliss, happily reading with my back propped up against Jace’s headboard as he laid beside me, one hand drawing lazy patterns over my thigh.
“This is a great script,” I said, still reading.
His head turned towards me. “You think so?”
I nodded. “Definitely. I know next to nothing about movies, except for the ones I like, but this is really clever and funny, and not really like any of the millions of movies I normally see coming out.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of perfect.”
“I can see you as Parker.”
His laughter made me inordinately happy, a sort of smug joy that I was able to bring that out of him. Placing a gentle kiss on my hip, he continued his ministrations on my leg. “Thank you. I’m having a hard time convincing anyone else.”
“Really? Why?”
“It’s not exactly what I’m known for right now, and the director straight up told me to my face that he couldn’t picture me in the role. Said he was surprised someone on my current trajectory was even interested.”
“Damn,” I said, and he hummed dryly in agreement. I spared him a look, trying to read his expression. “You sound disappointed.”
“I am.” He rolled onto his back, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Now is the right time to capitalize on where the show is at in the ratings. One bad season and scripts like this,” he said, gesturing to it, “definitely won’t be coming my way anymore.”
He punctuated this with a long, resigned sigh.
“And even if I manage to get the role somehow—and that’s a big if—it’s a risk. Taking on a movie like that will move my career in a totally different direction. If it flops, it could affect the show.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then it doesn’t. But it’s always better to plan for the worst and be surprised.”
“Wow, that’s an obscure way of looking at it. And a rather depressing one.”
“Welcome to showbiz.”
“In Tiff’s words, fuck that.” I placed the script on the side table and maneuvered down the bed to lay beside him, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. “Forget about all the other stuff, the critics and the producers and the audience—all that junk. It should be about what you want. And if this role doesn’t work out, then you go for the next one. You’re hard-working, dedicated, and passionate. They’d be stupid not to hire you.”
I waited as he thought it over, his eyes searching mine in quiet contemplation. As the seconds passed, I wondered if I’d crossed a line, presumed something too personal for the kind of relationship we had. We hadn’t known each other that long, but it felt like we were becoming friends, and I wouldn’t have thought twice about talking to a friend like that.
He brushed a stray hair behind my ear. “You’re incredible; you know that?”
Before I could respond, his fingers reached into the hair at my neck, pulling me in closer, and I sank into the caress of his lips on mine.
It was lazy and slow, a far cry from the first night we spent together, but just as enjoyable. If I let myself, I could picture this, us, whiling away the weekends curled up in each other.
What would it be like to have that?
To wake up next to him instead of always leaving?
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I said when we eventually separated. When I tucked myself into his side, I caught sight of my bag over his shoulder and remembered what I had brought with me tonight.
Would he think it was sweet or strange?
“Jackson?”
>
“Hmm?” His contented answer rumbled under my cheek.
“Pass me my bag?”
He stretched one arm out to get it, passing it to me. I let it fall to the floor once I pulled the small paperback out.
“What’s this?” He asked.
Wanting to see his reaction, I sat up, and he followed suit, taking the offering when I held it out to him. “I hope it’s not weird. I stumbled across it at second hand bookstore and thought of you.”
He looked up from the thin, worn copy of Roahl Dahl’s The Twits. The force of his smile took my breath away. “I haven’t seen this in years. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We settled back on the bed, bodies flush against each other but not in a rush to do anything except lie together. After a long moment, he spoke, changing the subject completely. “So, you told me how you met, but how long have you known Tiffany?”
“Years. She was my rock during the divorce, too. We both work long hours, and she works most nights, and she still managed to be at my place every weekend, with a terrible movie and enough chocolate to heal any heartbreak. I don’t know where I’d be without her.”
“She sounds like a great friend.”
“She really is. I never had any siblings growing up, but she’s the closest thing to a sister I have.”
“Not to mention, she made this happen.” He motioned between us.
“Something she loves to remind me of every chance she gets. I may never live it down.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not at all. It’s a great thing.” I trailed my hand down his incredible abs and wrapped it around the base of his dick, gently squeezing and stroking him slowly. “Spectacular, really.”
“Spectacular?” His voice was low, rough. “Mmm, yeah, just like that.”
God, he was delicious. Brushing my nose along the curve of his neck, I breathed in his scent, kissing my favorite spot at the hinge of his jaw, where I could whisper in his ear. I’d learned he really enjoyed that, and the hungry sounds it resulted in also happened to be one of my favorite things.
It was win/win, really.
“Tell me what you like.” We'd slept together enough now that I didn’t need to ask, but it had become a sort of game now. And I’d found the answers were always enjoyable.
His lip quirked up. “You, baby. Everything about you.”
How was it that he could make me blush so furiously with a few words while I had his thickening cock in my hand; I didn’t know.
Unfairly, he continued. “I like these lips.” He tilted my chin up so he could kiss them, catching each lip between his and sucking a little before leaning back.
“And I really like your hands.” He thrust up into my hand, and I squeezed harder, continuing my strokes. When I reached his tip, I twisted my wrist and thumbed over the liquid that was beginning to collect. My mouth watered at the sight of it.
“I like you,” he said, and my heart fluttered at the sincerity of those words, an echo of my own thoughts.
Because I liked him.
A lot.
For more than just the sex.
I liked how much he loved his sister and how passionately he spoke about his work, how intently he listened when we talked and how genuinely he cared about my answers. How beautiful he could make me feel.
But I also knew I couldn’t tell him any of this. We’d said it was casual. That’s what we—what I wanted. What we’d agreed. And he’d said it himself; he’d only ever had short flings. Who knew if he even wanted anything more?
Besides, the last thing I needed was to rush into something. Not that Jackson was anything like Brad, but I mean, I still had work and the launch—I was still trying to juggle the interns as well—and yet. And yet. All of the noise in my head seemed to quieten when I was with him. And I found myself wanting more. Wanting to know what it might be like to go out on a date. To wake up next to him. To have this be more.
If that were even possible.
Would we even fit into each other’s lives outside of the late nights and great sex?
“I like you, too,” I finally said, feeling a sudden nervousness that I hadn’t felt since our first night together.
“You know, in the few years since I moved in, this might be the most time I’ve spent in this apartment.” His expression was fond but unreadable.
Oh.
Guilt trickled, cold in my veins. Because I was the reason.
Over the last few weeks, any time together had been spent inside, either at my place or his, and I suddenly wondered if there was somewhere else he was supposed to be. Somewhere he’d rather be.
“I hadn’t thought of it like that. In the last year, I’ve spent so much time between the office and home; I’m not a very exciting date.” I forced a casual laugh, or at least what I hoped passed as casual, despite the sinking feeling I had. “Does it bother you?”
“No. It’s nice to enjoy something out of the public eye. Anytime I’m spotted with a woman, even a friend, it’s posted and scrutinized.”
There was something he wasn’t saying, and I blinked, at a loss of how to respond. Because, like an idiot, I’d started wanting more without giving any thought to what that might actually mean.
And even if it didn’t change how I felt about him, I didn’t know that I was ready for all the extras that being with him might entail.
“That sounds awful. I wouldn’t want that kind of attention on me, that’s for sure.”
“So I guess that rules out taking you to dinner,” he joked, not meeting my eyes.
“I guess so.” I brushed an imaginary piece of fluff off of the comforter. “But …”
“But?”
“How do you feel about take-out and cocktails?”
The next night found Jackson, Tiffany, and myself lounging in my living room, drinks in hand and an abandoned card game on the coffee table.
It was the first time since Jackson and I had met that we were doing something I would consider more couple than casual.
I had the distinct sense we were both avoiding a discussion on what we were or where this was going, and I was glad about that. Selfishly, I would rather live in ignorance than have to give this up. I liked what we had right now.
Conversation was easy, even when we weren’t talking about anything at all, and he never seemed bothered when I talked about work or needed to vent after a particularly bad day. Time always seemed to disappear when we were together.
Although, that’s how it had started with Brad.
Another reason I was glad to put off the talk with Jackson.
After dinner, we had half-heartedly tried to play a game called “Oh Hell,” which we’d subsequently given up on, both because the rules were a bit confusing but mostly because Tiff and Jace had gotten embroiled in a discussion about their favorite science fiction films. I had nothing to add, so I sat quietly aside and enjoyed watching them banter.
I ignored the ache in my heart.
“Why is it so hard to believe I’ve never seen Star Trek? It’s so old! I mean, I guess I’ve seen a bit of all of them at some point—original, next-gen, voyager, discovery … Was there another one?” She topped up her martini. “Besides, Lord of the Rings is where it’s at. Those elves can get it.”
Jackson laughed. “You’re a closet nerd, aren’t you?”
“Honey, I haven’t seen a closet in years. And if I’m a nerd, then I’m fucking proud of it.”
“And yet you haven’t seen Star Trek! I suppose you wouldn’t have a favorite captain then.”
Tiff pondered the question. “Maybe Picard? Whoever Patrick Stewart plays.”
“That’s the one.”
“Although I would let Chris Pine do pretty much whatever he wants to me. Except choking. No offense if that’s your thing.” Tiff’s tone was perfectly calm, like she was commenting on the weather.
I bit my lip to stop myself laughing, but it was a lost cause as soon as Jackson coughed on
his drink. He recovered quickly, wiping off his shirt and looking between Tiff and me questioningly. “You’re screwing with me, aren’t you?”
I chuckled and shook my head. “‘Fraid not.” Of all the things Tiff liked or didn’t like in bed, that was on the tame side of things. His head would probably explode if he knew the full list of kinks she had. Some of which I shared. Some of which Jackson himself had introduced me to.
I had always been fascinated by Tiff’s stories of the things she’d tried. It had helped me get to know what I wanted to try and what I definitely, under no circumstances ever, would go anywhere near.
I turned to Tiff, who was no doubt itching to actually mess with him, but I pointed a finger at her and hoped like hell I could at least save him from the many dirty images she’d already put in my head. “Don’t even think about it; you’ll scare him.”
She faked offense. “Oh, come on, he’s a big boy. He can handle it!” I knew from the twist of her mouth and the playful look in her eye that she was up to something, but my reaction time wasn’t fast enough to stop her from turning to Jackson and saying, “I mean, you did say he was a … big boy … didn’t you?” She used her hands to indicate an appropriately “big” size, and my face flushed faster than the time it had taken her even to finish her statement.
Ground? Please swallow me whole now.
My attention was then caught by Jackson’s belly laugh, and I took a deep breath. Ok, maybe this was ok. I mean, she wasn’t wrong about his size, but Jesus, did she need to let it slip that I’d told her that?
“Damn, ok. I didn’t actually know women talked about shit like that,” He looked at Tiff. “Jealous?”
It was now Tiff’s turn to bark with laughter, a short sharp sound that only ever came out when she was truly surprised by something funny. “Fuck, no, stud. But I’m proud of my little Audrey here. I just hope you know what you’re doing with that thing.”
I stood up from the couch. “Okay, that’s enough about my sex life, thank you very much. If you both don’t mind, I’m just going to get another drink.” I could still hear their laughter as I retreated to the kitchen. Hearing them get along so well spread a warmth deep through my gut, settled and calm.
