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“Terrible reason. I’m going to need a more substantial explanation.”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “When I was on the set ofThe Sound of Music,I heard the guy who played Von Trapp tell one of his friends he couldn’t wait to kiss Maria so he could stick his tongue down her throat. The misogyny was disgusting. The friend laughed and said, ‘you go, dude. Wish I was playing “the man.”’ I wanted to throw up.”
“And, yet, you still want to be an actor.”
She sighed and settled back into the soft leather. “Yeah. I guess it’s in the blood.”
“You are too fucking adorable to be believed. And, yet, that still doesn’t address the virgin issue.” He set the car back in gear and eased out onto the road. “Now, where am I going?”
Maylis guided him to her apartment that was within blocks of the theater. She’d be able to walk the next day to pick up her car. Her efficiency was located upstairs in an old, less-than-eye-appealing backside of an old building. “You don’t have to come up,” she said.
“I’m walking you up.” His voice and body were as implacable as a wall of cinderblocks.
A swarm of butterflies unleashed havoc in her stomach. She fumbled with the key until he took it upon himself to relieve her of it and unlocked the door himself. He shoved it back and she groaned.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting company.” The bed was still open, the covers askew. “My housekeeper is in a production down the street and hasn’t had time to clean things up.”
“Yeah? I have the same issue.” He strolled over to an end table and picked up her pink companion and showed it to her. “Your housekeeper is much more interesting than mine.”
Maylis marched over and snatched—attempted to snatch—her vibrator out of his hand. He lifted it over her head and out of her reach. She wanted to die. Her face flamed. She went over to the tiny fifties-styled refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. Chugged half of it before turning around. And almost slid to the floor.
His eyes were closed, and he had her vibrator under his nose. “This smells like you.”
The bottle slipped from her hand, landing on the floor with abonk.
His eyes opened and pinned her where she stood. She couldn’t have moved her if her feet were on fire. Which wouldn’t happen since there was enough spilled water to douse any flames.
He prowled across the room in her direction. “Now might be a good time to remove that bra,” he said.
She blinked and looked down. Water soaked her sneakers and was spreading on the floor. She grabbed a tea towel and dropped it down and using her foot, attempted to wipe up the mess.
He reached out and took her arm, tugging her into him. “I don’t have any friends on set that I’m talking to, you know. I want you.”
“It’s just… I-I can’t bear the thought of you comparing me to… to Tamera.”
“Let’s get something straight. I went out with Tamera for less than two weeks almost six years ago. We didn’t even have sex.”
“What?”
“Yeah. No sex.”
“But her friends indicated—”
“I can’t help what she told her friends. I’m telling you, she and I did nothing more than kiss. She was not receptive. I can’t tell you why. I can’t even tell you I wouldn’t have done her, if she’d offered herself up. But she didn’t offer, and I didn’t partake.” With each word, his mouth drew closer to hers.
They’d kissed every day for almost six weeks. But Maylis knew this kiss would be different. This kiss would not be scripted. There was no audience. No director to tell them if they had it right or wrong.
He pulled back and slipped a finger beneath the strap of her purse and brought it over her head. “Now, what do you say?” He set it on the counter next to the stove. “Take off your sweater. I would do it, but—” He held up his other hand that still held her vibrator. His eyes never left hers.
Maylis never realized what some of her favorite authors meant when they wrote about their mesmerist characters. In that instant, she understood completely. She was caught up in the gold flecks in the hazel of his unblinking eyes. A cat’s eyes. A predator’s hypnotizing eyes. She couldn’t look away as her cardigan slipped from her arms to the floor helping to absorb the spilt water.
“Now, the tee shirt. I’d like to see this obstructionist scrap that’s hiding what I know are plump, enticing nipples.”
She had no power within her to say no. Her shirt was drawn over her head. Her bra was a peach lacy number that fastened in the front.
He brought the dildo up and brushed her lips with it. It was made of slick gelled silicone. She’d never touched it to her mouth and her body was on fire. He brought her hand to the vibrator. “Hold this,” he whispered. “There’s something I need to take care of before I go fucking crazy.”
Him!
