by Colet Abedi
My heart stops.
Literally stops.
“I’m not trying to get into your heart,” I reply quickly, hating the way his words make me feel. “I’m just trying to get you in my bed.”
Jamie loses his smile. He tugs on my hair, making my head fall back, so I can really see how annoyed he is.
“You have a surprising outlook on sex for someone who was a virgin until twenty-two,” he says, his voice angry.
I give him my best resting bitch face. “And what about yours?”
“What about it?”
“You were also a guest at the club,” I remind him pointedly.
He looks really mad for a second, then he shakes his head like he can’t believe himself. He’s back to smiling again. Considering how voracious he is in bed, the man does seem to have a pretty even temper.
“Fishing for an answer as to why I was at the club?” he asks knowingly.
“I’m not fishing for anything,” I lie, even though I’m dying to find out.
From the look on his face, I know he doesn’t believe me.
“I have years of experience on you, Wylder,” Jamie says quietly. “Years of having anything I want. And when you’ve seen and pretty much experienced everything out there, you go looking for something that will make you feel something again.”
His words are telling. His enormous success coupled with his good looks paved the way for him having anything he wants. I can’t judge him for wanting to experience something that excites him. After all, I was there too.
“Does that answer your question?” he asks.
I nod.
“So tell me…” He lifts his hands over my head and pulls down the plates.
I swiftly move away from him, escaping under his arm, trying my best to remain unaffected by him. “What?”
“Were you named after Laura Ingalls Wilder?”
His question makes me laugh. “Sadly, no.” I open one of the kitchen drawers and pull out utensils. “It’s more like Joan Wilder.”
“Joan Wilder?” He looks confused, like he’s thinking about where he’s heard the name before.
“Romancing the Stone,” I explain.
“I’m sorry?” Jamie says.
“The movie with Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner,” I say right when it dawns on him. “Go ahead and laugh. It’s a true story.”
And he does. He belly laughs with no freaking shame.
“Jesus, Wyld,” he says after he gets himself together. “Please don’t ever change.”
“How do you mean?” I ask as my lips twitch in mirth.
“Your honesty,” Jamie says sweetly. “It’s so rare in this town. Most of the women I’ve met or known would have lied and agreed with me. They’d be too embarrassed to admit they were named after a character in an eighties romantic comedy.”
Funny. Lying about it never even crossed my mind.
“But it’s my story,” I say with a shrug. “Why would I turn it into something it isn’t? It’s me. It’s who I am.”
Jamie steps toward me and cups my cheek with his hand, the look in his eyes tender. My heart betrays me and begins to slowly melt. He leans down and kisses me softly on the lips, leaving me breathless from his magic. “Always be you.”
Chapter Eight
Jamie and I head back into the family room holding the appropriate dinner essentials.
I’m still reeling from his compliment. It was seriously the best thing anyone has ever said to me.
Always be you.
My thoughts drift to my past. I was introduced to the bitter reality of life when I was eight years old and found my mom crying in my parents’ bedroom. That was when she first told me about my father’s cheating. I held onto her frail body as my young mind tried to grasp what that even meant. Well, she told me in explicit detail, and for the next ten years of my life—until I left for college—I was my mother’s personal therapist. It was a pattern. Every three months, there would be a new woman. And every three months, I’d have to pick my mom up from the verge of a nervous breakdown.
It was far from an ideal childhood, and coupled with the stress of barely making ends meet because my father enjoyed blowing all of his money on other women rather than his own wife and child, it’s no wonder I’m cynical by nature.
I’ve always been blunt and to the point. I’m not a “let’s sugar coat this” or frills kind of girl. I’m real.
I’m just… me.
And there are many moments that come to mind from over the years when “just being me” seemed to cause extra heartache.
I’ve been nothing but blunt and honest with Jamie, and for whatever reason, he seems to like that about me. And even though I shouldn’t warm up to him in any way, it’s hard not to when he says something sweet like that or leaves my house to go pick up what looks to be at least a thousand-dollar, Italian meal—bottles of wine and all.
There is no way Jamie Donovan drinks cheap wine, and he bought five bottles to Kerri’s four. I’m sure Tony is doing a happy dance inside.
Tony and Kerri laid out all the food, and there’s enough here to feed a family of ten.
“Did you order everything on the menu?” I ask in disbelief.
“Just my favorites,” he says and smiles in boyish anticipation.
His enthusiasm is contagious.
“I take it Dan Tana’s is a regular hangout for you?” I place the glasses on the table.
“Used to be before I moved out to Malibu,” he says with a shrug.
“You sound like you moved to outer space,” Kerri says. She grabs a plate and helps herself to a healthy amount of pasta. “It’s Malibu. Big deal. My parents have a place out there that they go to all the time.”
I have no doubt it’s as impressive as Jamie’s.
“Try rush-hour traffic,” he says. “It took me over two and a half hours to get here. Trust me, if that’s where your primary home is, you just don’t want to leave.”
I make eye contact with Kerri.
Her eyes widen for a few seconds. I know what she’s thinking because I’m thinking the same thing. He got in a car for two and a half hours… to see me.
“This is so great of you, man.” Tony cuts a piece of chicken parmesan and places it on his plate. “This is like real food.”
“Real food?” Jamie asks.
“Whole Foods sliced pizza and ramen are staples for me,” Tony says with a shrug. “Limited funds, you know?”
“I forgot how little you guys get paid,” Jamie says. “How many hours do you work a week?”
“Sixty to seventy, depending on the douche we have to do something douchey for,” he quips.
We all erupt in laughter.
I help myself to a large glass of wine. I fill everyone else’s glass as well. From the corner of my eye, I see Jamie’s piling food onto two plates.
Lord.
Why does he have to be so freaking considerate? He needs to stop being so damn perfect! Like right now.
“I can do that myself,” I say. The words come out harsher than I would have preferred, but it can’t be helped.
He cocks a curious brow at me and shakes his head. “I want you to try all of my favorites.”
Fuck.
Me.
My treacherous heart soars, and to calm my frayed nerves, I take a long sip of wine. This is not good!
“That’s so sweet.” Kerri coos in exaggeration and gives us a sugary smile. “Isn’t it, T?”
“The sweetest,” Tony says and sucks in a long noodle.
My skin burns, and I know I’m probably bright red thanks to Kerri. Did I say I love her? Tonight I don’t.
“She’s going to spontaneously combust if you guys keep it up,” Jamie says in amusement. “She’s the color of a cherry.”
“Considering you popped hers, it’s kind of perfect,” Kerri responds without missing a beat.
Wine sprays from my mouth, straight into the food.
Now I really want to die.
The rest of them think it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard, like fall-over-on-the-couch funny.
“Kerri Davenport, you are the deadest person I know.” I say this with as much dignity as I can muster.
“But I love you so much, Wylder,” she says innocently. “And it was too good of a comment to just let it fly by.”
“I kind of agree,” Tony says, raising his hand.
“Me too.” Jamie joins in and stares at me, amused. He looks at the coffee table, his gaze skimming over the food. “Don’t look so horrified. A little vino never hurts a meal.” He digs into his food with gusto as I sit there in shock.
I take in the scene.
I hate to admit it, but Jamie fits right in, like he’s been hanging out with us forever. And that’s the thing. How is it possible there’s nothing awkward about one of the most famous movie directors of his time sitting in three studio interns’ rental home like it’s the most natural thing in the world?
Then I look at him, really look at him, and I realize why.
It’s him. He’s easy going. He’s not affected by Hollywood. He doesn’t think he’s something better. He went out and got food for us at Dan Tana’s like a delivery boy. He’s just real.
And real is too attractive to ignore.
He pats the seat next to him. “Now be a good girl and grab your plate and settle in.” He winks at me.
“Save the bad for the bedroom,” Tony chimes in between bites.
“You too?!” I gasp in horror.
Tony shrugs. “When in Rome do as the Romans do.”
Jamie motions toward the television. “What are we watching?”
“There’s nothing out,” Kerri grumbles. “We spent twenty minutes looking at new release trailers, and they pretty much all sucked.”
“Excuse me, the film I just produced is out right now, and it killed at the box office,” Jamie says with a hint of arrogance.
“What film?” I can’t help but ask.
“Mantis,” Tony answers before he can. He gives Jamie an apologetic smile. “I’m dying to see it and tried to get Kerri to rent it tonight but…”
His voice trails off.
“It’s just not her thing,” he finally says a bit uncomfortably.
“Sorry.” Kerri shrugs, and for one horrifying moment, I think she’s going to say it looks like a giant pile of turd.
It does by the way.
Tony made us watch the trailer over three times in the last two weeks in hopes we’d give in and rent it. He obviously gave it a go tonight as well. I, for one, just can’t sit through a film about a plague that turns people into praying mantises.
There is a line I can’t cross in film.
“Fair enough.” Jamie nods, not the least be insulted. “It might be a giant pile of turd, but it made a killing at the box office. The studio is even asking for a sequel.”
First, I can’t believe he stole the words right out of my mind.
Second, what the fuck is wrong with the world?
“I like how self-aware you are,” Kerri says, nodding her head in admiration. “It’s rare, especially around here.”
Jamie shrugs. “It is what it is. Popcorn fun. It’s not trying to be serious. That’s why I took on the project to produce. It’s just a fun ride, and at the end of the day, a man’s gotta make a living and put food on the table,” he says rather humbly.
Put food on the table? Try put a five-course meal made for the queen on the table. That’s how wealthy Jamie is. Like crazy rich. He’s not a B like Kerri, but with his track record, he will be. And soon.
“So what should we watch?” Tony asks while I observe beautiful Jamie.
“An oldie but goodie,” Jamie says.
He’s leaning back into the couch with his plate on those impressive muscled thighs I would so like to lick right now and is eating his heart out. I wonder when we’ll head back to my room.
I’d like to go now.
“You aren’t eating, Wylder,” Jamie says, catching me blatantly giving him a once-over. His eyes light up, intrigued.
“I am.” I twist a bite of pasta around my fork.
The look in his eyes makes my heart pitter-patter. He wants me. And oh, how he can have me whenever he so wishes. I take another sip of wine to calm my nerves.
“Halloween,” Jamie says, his eyes still locked with mine. “Since it’s coming up.”
“What?” I ask.
“Let’s watch Halloween, the classic.” He looks over at Tony. “It’s always good.”
“I’m in.” He picks up the Apple remote and speaks the name of the film into it.
“I love Halloween,” Kerri says and settles back into the couch with her glass of wine and plate.
“And you, Wyld?” Jamie pins me with his gaze.
“Sounds fine,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.
“Have you seen it?” Jamie counters.
I cut a piece of chicken on my plate. “No.”
“Sacrilege!”
I look at Jamie. He seems horrified.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m just in serious disbelief.” He shakes his head. “Put the movie on now, Tony. This lady is about to be introduced to a legend and have her mind blown.”
“Doubt it,” I tell him. “Sci-fi and horror aren’t really my thing.”
“Oh, I know,” he tells me, shaking his head in disbelief. “I read what your thing is on that writing board of yours. Boring. That’s your thing.”
“I like art.” I bat my lashes at him.
“I would stop talking now, Wylder.” Tony looks aghast. “You’re going to be really embarrassed when the movie is over.”
“Let’s watch it,” I say as I put my plate on the table. I settle back on the couch next to Jamie, holding my wine like it’s a holy sacrament.
“Somebody turn out the lights,” Jamie calls out.
Kerri gets up and turns them out. She grabs a blanket from the wicker basket next to the sofa and throws herself on the couch.
“Wyld, grab a blanket and get back over here,” Jamie orders me.
I’m grateful the lights are out. I’m not buzzed enough yet to be comfortable in Jamie’s arms in front of Kerri and Tony.
I do as I’m told and toss a blanket at him and then refill the wine glasses in front of Jamie and me. Kerri’s and Tony’s are already topped off. Tony presses play, and ominous music comes on as opening credits begin. Jamie’s already stretched out down the length of the couch, blanket covering him. He lifts the edge and opens his legs for me to sit between them.
The innocent move only serves to make me horny.
I still want to lick him.
And now I have to sit through a damn movie? A horror? FML.
He takes the glass of wine I offer, and I settle back into his body. One hand holds the glass, and the other wraps around my waist, then slides down the elastic band of my sweat pants—dangerously close to the top of my you-know-what.
I’m immediately wet.
Well, wetter than I was before, which is simply astounding. The movie begins, and I immediately try to focus. I cannot. I absolutely cannot obsess about sex with Jamie Donovan this entire film. I am an adult, a grown woman who can surely keep her hormones in check—
“You have to watch how brilliantly this is done,” he whispers into my ear as his fingers tickle my stomach.
Electricity soars through my body, and my body springs to life.
“K” is all I’m able to manage. He places a quick kiss on my neck before settling back into his position on the couch.
My eyes are seriously blurry from my desire. I can’t pay attention… or focus. It looks great. It actually seems like a film I will genuinely enjoy. It’s probably brilliant.
But what the hell? Jamie Donovan, with his…
Naked hand.
On my naked abdomen.
Next to my thin, pesky thong?
A girl can only take so much. I take a giant sip of my wine and send a prayer to Dion
ysus that I’ll have a buzz in seconds.
Over one hour later, it still hasn’t worked.
Dionysus is a real asshole.
I want to cry, like literally cry-myself-a-river-like-JT’s-song cry. If his fingers aren’t circling around dangerously close to my poor, throbbing sweet girl, they’re traveling up my stomach to brush against my very bare breasts. And not only that, but his cock… It’s hard. It’s been hard the entire movie. I feel like I traveled back in time to when I’d go window shopping with my mom. You can look, Wylder, she would say, but you sure as shit cannot touch.
I am in a state of acute misery.
The serious kind.
And he’s just hard.
I lean over and put my glass of wine on the coffee table, finally giving up. I look at Kerri in Tony in envy. For them, the wine has obviously worked. They both have that buzz-hooded gaze, half smiling goofily at the television screen like life couldn’t be any more perfect.
Assholes.
He Who Must Not Be Named, and I’m not talking about the dude from Harry Potter, leans up and sets his glass down as well. I can’t even say his name in my head right now; I am so mad and miserable. Once he’s settled back, I move into my position.
I can tell we’re nearing the end of the movie because almost everyone is dead, and the music has become scarier by the second.
I can’t wait to really watch it tomorrow night.
Even though I haven’t paid any attention because of the man behind me, I’m immediately sucked into the scene, and just as I’ve finally forgotten about him for forty-five seconds, his hand starts to move again.
I stop breathing.
It’s moving.
Down my stomach, underneath my thong, straight to what’s been begging for attention all night long…
I let out a whimper.
For once, luck is on my side, and I happen to do it at a moment where Michael Myers kills someone else, and Jamie Lee Curtis starts screaming.
Jamie’s finger slips inside. My legs move open on their own accord, and I fall back further into his embrace. He pulls the thick blanket up over us some more, covering me to the top of my neck. Kerri and Tony are glued to the TV as the poor woman is chased by the crazy man.