by Pamela Ann
Her teasing tone made me redden as I placed my hands in my jean pockets. “I didn’t know what you wanted so, I, uh, guessed.” I sounded like a fourth grader who didn’t know how to act in front of his crush. It was humiliating, but her smile killed my brain cells, so acting like an idiot all night long should be a given already.
Her eyes lingered on my mouth before lifting them to connect with my hungered one. “So… what do you want to talk about Bass?”
Damn, were those tingles I was feeling? What the fuck?
Shoving all that tingly shit aside; I focused on her and her question; which wasn’t much of a fight really. “You, anything and everything about you.” My eyes never left her face; I studied it closely, like I would with a beautiful painting.
There was just something about her and I wished I knew… what? Why? How this was happening to me? Fuck, I was so taken with her, it was getting unreal.
Emma took a cautious sip of her wine. I watched in fascination as she savored the vintage. She was now toying with her glass, looking at me with blushing cheeks. “Let’s see, I’m a college student at UCSB, major undecided, for now. I love cheesy movies and have a thing for athletes. I get emotional—especially a week or two before my period. I treasure those who are dear to me and eject the people who aren’t. I stock up all of my fortune cookies until I have over twenty of them and eat them all in one sitting. I come from a loving home so I’m not emotionally crippled in that sense. The only issues I have with my parents are their persistent nagging for me to become a doctor. We have a family cat named Tumble, who I am chronically allergic to, but I love all the same. I have a ten-year-old pillow that I wash constantly, mind you, but can’t let go of. And yes, it is a tad ratty, but I just can’t part with it.”
Now that was some introduction.
How could a man resist an adorable, hot, sexy woman who had a special attachment to some pillow?
Chuckling lightly, I looked at her with newfound respect. I was beyond charmed. “Ratty pillow, emotional, undecided and allergic to cats, gotcha. And you have a thing for athletes? Say, David Beckham?”
“Uh, who doesn’t have a thing for him?” she quickly countered back, aghast at my question.
Was the ex an athlete then? I would presume so. That made me ponder some more.
Moving on from the ex, I continued with my twenty questions, hoping that she wouldn’t mind. “So, actors… you don’t have a thing for?” I peeked at her, eyes full of explicit intention.
I was fishing, gently implying my interest in her without being too forward and scaring her away.
Hiding a smile, she responded. “No, not yet.”
Not yet… what a bad liar you are Emma Anderson, but two could play that game. For now, I’d let her slide. “You are something else, aren’t you?” I lounged back, placing my hands behind the back of my head, emphasizing my toned arms while my shirt rode up higher, making her hyperaware of me. “Are you dating anyone, Em?”
Her eyes devoured me, just as I had intended. I knew what buttons to push when it came to slow seduction; mind you, this was extra snail paced.
Waiting on her, I took a sip of my wine.
Emma gave a quick shake of her head. “No, not anymore. It ended yesterday actually, if you really want to know.”
Fuck. Just yesterday? Shit man. This wasn’t good. She was more fragile than I thought. Fuck.
I was gob smacked. “Oh, wow. I didn’t expect that.” This was a tricky situation.
“Expect what?” She glanced at my boggled state, frowning.
“That you’re on the rebound.”
Emma looked offended. “Who said I was on the rebound?”
Let’s pull out the given stats here. “That’s just a given. A person is on the rebound for a month after breaking it off with someone, especially if the person they broke it off with actually meant something, then that’s another shitload of shenanigans.”
Lucky bastard, I thought, referring to her ex. While looking at her closely, her sad eyes emerged for a few seconds before she was able to mask it again. Ha, I supposed the ex did the leaving? She sure as hell didn’t look celebratory now to be without him. Women I knew pretty well, and this—Emma—didn’t look like she had been ready.
I was looking at her in a different light after giving me that essential information. I knew I should back the fuck off, yet I, for some reason, couldn’t fathom doing so.
Where did that leave me? Shit again. That’s right.
“Can I just say that… you’re weird? I never thought Bass Cole would be weird until this moment.”
See? How do I walk away from her adorableness? “Ha. You are too cute sometimes.”
Diverging from the touchy subject, I continued on. “What are your favorite films?” I asked, leaning forward as I prepared crackers with cheese and olives on them.
Placing them on a cocktail napkin, I handed them to her, banishing the tempting thought of feeding them directly to her, wanting to taste the olive in her mouth.
Cautiously, she made a small smile before speaking, “Eurotrip was a blast. The Notebook, Gone with the Wind, Casablanca, Kingdom of Heaven, Defiance and Closer to name a few.”
Not bad choices.
“Interesting choices you have there. I like it. So, what did you like about Closer?” I watched her eat and talk, however I was more intrigued with her opinion of the film.
She merely shrugged. “What’s not to like? It was a great film with great actors. The story was moving and relatable.”
Relatable? How? That was boggling me. “So, you condone cheating then?” I continued, pressing further.
“No, I never said that. I don’t condone it. I meant it was relatable in a sense that our society has made it somewhat okay. If a famous celebrity cheats on someone, they publicize it to the hilt and it’s portrayed as acceptable to some, I supposed. I wish they didn’t though because it sets a bad example to others.”
Her answer sent relief. “Good answer.”
“Thank you,” she murmured and downed the rest of her drink.
Onto the next question, “Tell me, why The Notebook?”
“Because that movie was hella awesome!? But to answer your question, I loved how committed the hero was to his love. His unfaltering dedication to the promise he made years back was astounding. I mean, he truly, deeply loved her. It’s that kind of love that stays with you, you know? The kind where it haunts you and there is nowhere to hide…” Emma trailed off, seeming distant, before her blue eyes clouded with grief.
Was that how she felt now? Like she was being haunted by that kind of love? It was a sobering thought. As I had believed before, her ex truly was a lucky man. “Have you had that kind of love?”
“I thought I did once, but it was a mirage… there was no point in holding on to it. Maybe one day I’ll get to have it. I would consider myself lucky if I ever did, not a lot of people can say that they have though.” Sad eyes glanced at me, before she asked, “What about you? Have you ever had it? That kind of love, I mean.”
Ah, she was curious, a sign that she still held an interest in me. I suppose all hope wasn’t lost after all.
Beaming from her inquisition, I responded, “No, not yet, but if I do, I will embrace it and hold onto it for as long as I can. I haven’t loved a woman before. It’s not that I’m hiding from it, it just hasn’t happened. I do know that once I do, this woman would consume me and I would gladly surrender to it, to her. I would be enslaved to it and love her wholeheartedly, no holds barred.” I spoke with utmost depth and conviction.
I had always wanted it—yearned—searching for it for years and still to no avail.
But now, it got me thinking again…
Maybe….
Just maybe.
“Do you want to drive somewhere, Em? We can go wherever you like,” I asked softly.
She quickly declined it, which pleased me to no end. “It’s okay. I kind of like it here; it’s very peaceful. I’d like to stay here, if you d
on’t mind?”
It was a good sign indeed.
Maybe if I stayed put and waited patiently, I might get a shot at getting to know her better. Because I knew that, with every ounce in me, Emma Anderson had truly made a lasting impression on me.
Staring Into The Sun
I immediately woke up when I felt Emma trying to pull her hand away. Glancing her way, she looked half asleep, although even with a light smudge of eyeliner on the bottom of her lids, she still affected me greatly.
It was the morning after the “beer goggles” and, usually, I was over it the next day. Yet alas, I had been proven wrong. Emma seemed to be an exception to a lot of things…
“Good morning, sunshine.”
“Good morning…” she said in between yawns then stilled, as if remembering something. “Oh my God, I have to get back!” She scrambled away and hunted down her purse. Fishing her phone out, she went over her messages with a frown.
“Is everything all right, Em?” I asked, getting up from the lounger and going over to where she was at, worried and curious at the same time. I hid another yawn behind my right hand, stretching my body away before I cracked my neck from side to side.
“I, um…” She trailed off as her gaze landed on me, greedily eyeing me. I stretched my body, knowing how my shirt lifted upwards to showcase my flat, chiseled abdomen. She then licked her lips, her desires clearly matching my own.
“Yes, Emma?” I teased, hoping to lighten the heavily electrified, sexual blanket that seemed to be engulfing us, yet again.
Her cheeks reddened, making her look even more enticing to me, before she excused herself to go inside to use the restroom.
Amused, I counted down from ten and then strode indoors, knowing quite well she didn’t know where the bathroom was located. Just as I’d guessed, she was standing in the middle of the black marbled hallway, deciding which route to take. Stealthily, I stood a foot behind her, waiting for the moment when she’d need me.
For a good while, I had an excellent view of her nice, curvy behind. I couldn’t help it when my tongue snaked out and played with my bottom lip, salivating at the sight of her ass. Her small waist and amazing cleavage emphasized her gorgeous pin-up type of body.
Sexy didn’t even cut it.
My heavy perusal of her toned body halted when she quickly spun around, almost bumping into my chest. With a wicked grin in place, I stared into her face. My stupid smile could possibly be because I was almost caught fantasizing about what I could do with that nice bottom of hers ever so vividly in my mind.
“Where is the bathroom?” Emma reddened a little more.
“Come here.” Pulling her against my chest, I gave her a hug, enveloping her in my large frame.
My breathing became ragged when the tip of her nose brushed against my neck and I heard her inhale the scent of me, loudly and deeply. I pulled back a little and peered at her, our faces mere inches away from each other. Up this close and during daytime, her eyes had even more power over me. I felt stripped. Exposed. Yet, ready for it.
For this… strange feeling…
“You know you look even more beautiful when you blush like that?” My voice was raspy, heavy with the unfulfilled fantasy of kissing her.
Could I break my promise and kiss her anyway? Would she protest me if I did? Maybe, maybe not.
The main question was, could I stop myself with merely a kiss? Gazing down at her silent form, she stared back with lust-filled eyes, mirroring my own hunger. When her tongue wet her bottom lip, my eyes immediately darted towards it, zeroing in on that tiny piece of sweetness.
I swallowed, hard.
Reaching out, I pulled her face closer to mine before she closed her eyes, readying for a kiss.
My kiss.
Her lips held me in a trance while I contemplated what to do. A kiss could be harmless, but if I wanted her trust and wanted this connection between us to last for more than a few months, I needed to step back and let her breathe awhile. After all, she just broke up with her boyfriend two days ago. For both our sakes, I had to harness any urges I had for her.
Instead—hoping I could lure her in closer to me—I kissed the other places that I could to still maintain the need and want while continuing to gain her trust.
My lips landed on her jaw, pausing ever so slowly before the tip of my nose traced the delicate outline, gliding across her soft skin all the way to her sensitive ear. My tongue badly wanted to come out and play, to taste her earlobe, but I knew I couldn’t. Not yet.
“You’re not ready for my kiss yet, my darling Emma. When I do kiss you, I will be the only one you can think of, the only one that can possess you and no one else. You, madam, are certainly not ready for that kind of possession.”
She made a sharp, panting gasp.
Sometimes the best things in life were the ones worth waiting for and I believed I had just found that with Emma. I wasn’t going to treat her as I had the others. I was going to take this slow even if it killed me. I was going to earn her trust. Patience was what I needed. Her gullibility was shown in those saddened, blue glass orbs. She needed time.
I respected that.
Holding her close, I kissed her forehead and squeezed her tightly against my chest. Yeah, she was definitely going to be worth it. I simply felt it all the way down in my gut.
“Go freshen up while I make us some breakfast. Take two lefts and the bathroom is on the right. See you in a bit.” With another kiss on her head, I let go of her and strolled towards the kitchen.
Opening the fridge, I gathered what I could to form a light brunch. Knowing how women were, Emma was probably going to take another ten minutes in the bathroom, checking if each eyelash was in place; I hated how some women put fifty layers of mascara and ended up looking like a raccoon by the end of the day.
Emma strode in five minutes later, make-up free with only a hint of shiny, girly gloss that smelled of strawberries.
Fuck, I love strawberries…
Shaking my head, I directed Emma, who was leaning against the counterpane. “Come sit and talk to me while I cook. Which hotel are you and your friends staying at again? I’ll drive you there myself,” I offered as I focused on chopping the onions.
She took her time before she decided to sit on the stools and watched me with great intensity. As much as I wanted to look up and study her watching me, I decided to play it like I was too engrossed in the damn onion.
“That might be a problem. It seems that they all left already and I’m stuck alone in Los Angeles.”
I gave her a quick glance before I took out the newly rinsed mushrooms. “No problem. I can take you back to campus.” I shrugged, thinking that she shouldn’t be shy about asking me anything; especially after last night.
Nothing happened, physically, although something existed between us; we shared it, even if we didn’t openly talk about it. It hung over us, even now.
“Where did you learn how to cook?”
“I was a chef in one of my movies and I had to train with this five-star chef for three months before shooting.”
“Wow, three months? What movie was it?”
Pausing, I studied her clean, beautiful face. It made her eyes stand out more; eyes that were starting to become my weakness, which was, as I stated a million times, strange.
Was Emma a fan of my films? She didn’t seem to look it. Smirking, I directed her a question. “How many films of mine have you seen, Emma?” While waiting for her to respond, I cracked four eggs in a bowl, peppered them, added a dash of salt and rapidly scrambled them all together.
“Knights of Cimmerian.”
“Did you like it?” I asked without looking at her as I drizzled olive oil into the heated pan.
“Sure, it was great!” she lied.
This woman couldn’t lie if her life depended on it. “What did you like about it?”
A big, fat silence came before she dug herself further. “Everything… it was… great.”
She was biting
her lip, looking at me through her lashes, while probably hoping I’d buy her one, little, white lie.
Silly, Emma, I thought as I barked out a loud, deep laugh. “It’s either you didn’t like it or you weren’t paying attention. So which is which?”
“I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry. When you asked, I didn’t know what to tell you to be honest.”
“Don’t worry, babe, I’m not offended.” I winked at her as I prepared our breakfast.
Emma was in charge of making the toast, coffee and cutting up some grapefruits, melons and some pineapples while I cooked.
It was past noon when we left the house and drove towards Santa Barbara. My blue Lamborghini Gallardo weaved through the traffic, taking note how much the woman beside me kept her eyes on me during the whole journey towards Ventura county.
Honesty Is Always The Best Policy
Exiting the freeway, Emma immediately gave directions to her place. As we drove there, my mind was going through a lot of things, hoping that she was willing to continue seeing me after today. The thought of not seeing her again suddenly got me edgy. Parking the car on the curb, I glanced at her before I decided to kill the engine.
We shared one of those looks. A look that held confusion, wonder and uncertainty. The silence stretched for a good minute before Emma decided to break the ice. “It was nice to meet you, Bass. It really was. I had a great time; bizarre, but enjoyable nonetheless.” She was grinning at me, however her shaky, high-pitched voice got me worried once again. Her smile faltered when I didn’t reciprocate her smile.
Blue met blue, drawing into each other, and I thought then, this was as good a moment as any. “I have this dinner thing on Tuesday night for a film I just signed up to shoot this summer in Greece. Would you come with me and be my date?”
“Oh, don’t you all discuss work details? I don’t want to intrude on that.” She suddenly seemed all self-conscious.
Was that just an excuse to put me down lightly or did she really mean it? “You won’t. It’ll be fun. The director is my godfather, actually. So it’s going to be laidback; don’t worry. You’re going to have a blast. Say you’ll go with me?”
