A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I couldn’t have chosen a better teacher.”
Something flashed in his eyes, some momentary wildness. Outside, cars and trucks sped by. She wanted him to kiss her again, but instead he sat back in his seat and let out a long breath.
“You’re a very interesting person, Miri Durand.” He rubbed his neck, touched his lips. He seemed to be struggling with some conundrum, some source of stress. She wanted to reach out to him, but she didn’t think he’d welcome it. He put the car back in gear. “I should get you home. It’s late.”
She had the terrible feeling he was withdrawing from her somehow. Why had she babbled on about her sister? Why did she admit she’d never been kissed? Well, he’d figured it out anyway. Embarrassing. He surely assumed the rest, that she had no sexual experience either. Of course he wouldn’t want to keep dating someone like her.
She vowed to herself to lose her virginity at the first possible opportunity. Didn’t matter where, didn’t matter with whom. She just had to get rid of it so she’d never be in this situation again, feeling stupid and inexperienced, being pushed away by a guy she liked.
He kissed her again when he pulled up to her house. It was a sweet, tender kiss. A goodbye kiss, damn it. She marshaled her defenses and lifted her chin. “I had fun tonight, Mason. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He rubbed his neck again. “I’m sorry if I seem preoccupied. There’s a lot going on with me right now.”
“I understand. And I know you’re super busy. Really, I understand.” God, this was awkward. Please, please, don’t let him tell me to my face that we’re done. She’d rather get out of the car with her dignity intact and have him never call again. She’d always have the photos, the memories. She couldn’t really blame him for cutting her loose.
“Well, anyway.” She reached out to touch his hand with the last of her bravery. “Things will get better. Whatever things you’re preoccupied with.”
He squeezed her hand and got out to walk her to the door. No matter how things ended, he’d always treated her like a perfect gentleman. More importantly, he’d finally, finally shown her the magic of losing herself in a passionate kiss.
*** *** ***
The skies let loose with buckets of rain and rolling thunder before he got to the hills of Malibu. He didn’t go to his house. He went to Kai’s.
“Mason?” Kai looked at his watch and back at the wet, bedraggled man on his doorstep.
“If it’s too late, I’ll go.”
“No, come in. You look like hell.”
Mason took off his sodden shoes at the door and went into the living room to throw himself on Kai’s pristine white couch. Kai took a long look at his friend, settling into the chair across from him.
“So, what’s brought on this existential crisis?”
“Take a wild guess.”
Kai smiled. “Hmm. Nice shots of you two at the Golden Globes, by the way.”
Mason grabbed his hair and hunched up to a sitting position. “I’m so shitty. I’m such a piece of shit.”
Kai stood with a sigh and went to the kitchen, coming back with two drinks.
“What is this?” Mason asked.
“Does it matter? Seltzer and a little vodka. Take the edge off.”
“Where’s Constance?”
“Sleeping, I think. Where’s Miri?”
Mason took a gulp of his cocktail. “Just took her home. God, she’s killing me. The guilt is killing me.”
“What guilt?”
“She really likes me, I can tell. I feel horrible doing this, leading her on like this. You should see the adoration in her face when she looks at me. It’s so sweet...and so awful.”
Kai blinked, thinking a moment. “There’s nothing real to build on?”
“Real?” Mason threw his head back with a groan. “How can there possibly be anything real? She’s nothing like me. She’s so ridiculously innocent. Really innocent.”
“Well, yeah. That’s why you started dating her.”
Mason put down his drink and formed a sphere with his hands. “She’s like this crystal clear ball. Everything she thinks and feels is right there on the surface for anyone to see. She’s so authentic and good. I admire her, seriously, but how can we be together? She’s nothing like Jessamine, nothing like my first wife either.”
“Well, you divorced both of them, so isn’t it good that Miri’s different?”
Mason took a long drink and blew out his breath. “Maybe. But...and this is going to sound shitty...I need someone less sweet and starry-eyed. I need someone I can do kink with, someone I can torment and do lurid sexual acts to. I need that right now.” Mason thought of the kiss with Miri in the car, when she’d started to respond to him with her innocent fervor. He’d barely managed to subdue the impulses that had pounded in his brain, to hold her down, to ravage her. But he couldn’t. “Jesus, Kai. I’m dying. For real.”
Kai ran a hand through his dark hair. “If it’s the sex you need, the kink, Constance would be happy to oblige you anytime. Jeremy would share Nell if you asked.”
“I don’t want Constance or Nell. They don’t belong to me. And besides, I can’t return the favor.”
“It doesn’t work like that. Constance adores you and she wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t mind.”
“I mind.” Mason sighed in frustration. “Look, Constance is crazy sexy. It’s not that I don’t want to play with her. God, you have to know that. But she’s not mine and that just makes it worse. I want my own sub to play with, my own sub in my own house catering to my own sick, twisted fantasies, which are growing sicker the more time I spend with Miri.”
“Are you sure she can’t fulfill that need? You’re sure she’s not hiding some secret kinky tendencies, especially if she’s got you going like this? She agreed to go out with you after the scandal broke, remember?”
Mason drained the last of his drink and put the glass down with a bang. “You remember that crystal-clear-ball metaphor? Her ball is really, really clear. Crystal clear. Untouched.”
“Huh?”
Mason made an annoyed sound. “Okay, replace the word ‘ball’ with ‘pussy.’”
Kai regarded his friend. “What are you saying? That she’s a virgin or something?”
The silence spun out for a moment, then Kai threw his head back and laughed.
Mason buried his face in his hands again. “I’m glad you find it so fucking entertaining.”
“Well, it’s funny.”
“It’s not funny! She’s a nice person. A really nice person, but when I’m with her, all I can think about are the depraved things I want to do to her, and how much she’d despise me if she knew what was going through my mind.”
Kai rolled his eyes. “It’s called being a guy. You think we haven’t all been there? Listen, do you like her? Do you enjoy spending time with her?”
“I love spending time with her. I love talking to her. I love to just sit and look at her, except the whole time I’m hating myself for being an asshole.”
“Then stop hating yourself, and stop being an asshole. Get busy doing something productive for her besides fucking and perverting her in your mind. Take her to some heavy hitter parties, introduce her to the folks who are making the movies she wants to be in.”
“I will, but I’ll still feel like an asshole, because she’s falling for me and I already know this has to end at some point.”
“Wow, it’s fascinating, watching you develop a conscience. She must really be something.”
“Fuck you.” Mason stood to go, only to turn and find Constance standing near the kitchen. She looked surprised to see him. She was stark naked as she always was at home—Kai required it. Her nudity was so natural at this point, she made no move to hide or cover herself. Mason wished she would. It was impossible not to respond to her, especially since Kai had shared her with Mason frequently once upon a time.
“Hi, Constance,” he managed. She waved in reply. Her gaze moved to Kai’s and s
he signed something rapidly.
“He’s fine, hon,” Kai answered. “He was just leaving. Unless—” He looked at Mason. “You’re sure?”
Mason swallowed hard. Constance had been trained years earlier in France as an odalisque, a specialized sex slave. Mason’s cock was already stirring to life in response to her natural air of sensuality, her seductive curves. But then he thought of another woman who communicated an entirely different kind of sensuality. An innocent, curious sensuality that haunted him.
“Your slave is as magnificent as ever, but I can’t.”
Constance, who could read lips, smiled softly and brushed back a lock of her long, brown hair. She signed something to Kai.
“Yeah,” Kai said, signing back to her. “I think you’re right.”
“What did she say?”
Kai looked at Mason. His amber eyes shone with sympathy. “Nothing. She hopes you feel better, and so do I.” He clapped Mason on the shoulder. “You want my advice? Throw your energy into doing good things for her. That will take care of the guilt, anyway.”
What about the horniness? Mason thought to himself. He supposed it was his burden to bear until he got his shit together. He took one more long, yearning look at Constance and forced himself to walk out the door. On the way to the car, he fumbled with his phone and dialed Miri’s number.
“Hello?”
She sounded so happy to hear from him. He wanted to ask if he could come over. He wanted to sleep beside her in her bed and hold her and stroke her golden blonde hair, even if he couldn’t fuck her. “I’m sorry I’m calling so late. Do you want to go out again? I want to see you again. Are you free any time next week?”
“Sure, Mason. I can go out anytime. I’m not working at the moment.”
I’ll help you find work. I’ll help you. I’m not going to be an asshole.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? We’ll set something up after I check my schedule.”
“Okay. Awesome!”
In those two little words he could feel her giddy excitement. Oh, God, this whole situation was horrible. And wonderful.
He was losing his fucking mind.
Chapter Five: Deal
Mason sent the driver to the door. He couldn’t deal with her father’s growls and grimaces at the moment. They were off to dinner at Mr. Chow’s, then a studio party, because it would help Miri.
Help Miri. Help Miri. That had become his new mantra. Photos of them still flooded the tabloids and entertainment blogs. The photos from the poetry reading popped up everywhere and seemed proof to the public that their relationship was deepening fast. Mason had to admit there was an intimacy and charm to the ones he’d seen. Candid amateur photos always came across as more real, even if they were underexposed and blurry. Maybe because they were underexposed and blurry.
Mr. Chow’s would be a great photo opportunity for paps and amateurs alike. Celebrities who wanted to be seen only had to breeze through Mr. Chow’s doors, where a gauntlet of paparazzi camped most hours of the day. And the studio party... Mason had been to hundreds of them, but he hoped Miri would find some use in it. He had his next four projects lined up, but she had far less options. She had the talent though. If he could help get her career off the ground, help her navigate the transition from child star to serious actress, he would feel less guilty when this whole PR stunt was over. Not that she had the least inkling she was participating in a PR stunt.
Not that it was only a PR stunt. Not anymore.
She ducked her head into the limo, her wide smile infectious. “Hi, Mason.”
“Hi, gorgeous. I love that color on you.”
She was in a semi-formal gown, a slinky confection in deep blue that still managed to communicate a certain alluring innocence thanks to a matching wrap. No flashy jewelry, just some pretty teardrop earrings. He would have to text his stylist later and give him a raise. He was really outdoing himself with Miri. Mason took her hand as she slid across the seat, then pressed a kiss on her cheek. “I love your smile too. You always smile when you see me.”
She laughed. “Doesn’t everyone?”
He thought of his ex-wife Jessamine. In the end, she’d only smiled at him in front of the cameras, in the public eye. But Miri wasn’t Jessamine. He had to stop comparing the two. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
He couldn’t help stealing a look down the front of her dress as she shifted to pull at the strap of one of her pumps. He was starving too, but not for Chinese food. She collapsed against his side, unlike Jessamine, who never let him touch her on the way to any event. Don’t wrinkle my dress. Don’t kiss me—my makeup! She’d been a consummate professional. Miri was...well...
An innocent, Mason. She’s not for you. He’d done the math, knew exactly how many years separated them. Not only that, but they had wildly disparate levels of sexual experience. He still put his arm around her and took her hand, breathing in her fresh, floral-scented sweetness.
“You look handsome, as always.” She gazed up at him, her pretty eyes far too worshipful. “What are you wearing tonight?”
“Dior.”
“Very dashing.”
“Have you been to Mr. Chow’s before?” he asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “It’s a paparazzi trap, isn’t it? I’ve been a few times, but no one’s bothered to photograph me.”
He ran his thumb over her hand, squeezing her fingers. “They will tonight. But you’re probably getting used to it.” There’d been paparazzi camped out for days at her little house in suburban L.A. Her father had called to insist he do something about it, but Mason had very little power over them.
She shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me. You deal with it all the time, a thousand times worse than I do.”
There was that, then, to lessen his guilt. When he let her go, the paparazzi wouldn’t hound her like they were now. That would be a relief to her, surely.
When they arrived, he got out first. A hundred flashes went off as he reached down to help her from the car. Mr. Chow’s always told the paps which celebrities had reservations, and with Mason and his new date expected, there were droves of press on the curb. He was used to the yelling and jostling, but he fretted over Miri’s little glance of alarm, and the way she tried to hide it behind a forced smile. Inside the restaurant, things weren’t much better. He’d asked for a private table but they were put on display in the center. Lots of stars around them, lots of schmoozing. By the time the food arrived he felt frazzled, and he was sure Miri felt worse. Even though she’d claimed to be starving, Mason noted she ate almost nothing at all.
Well, the party would be better. More private, less frenetic. An aspiring actress like Miri would be thrilled to hobnob with so many industry people. Not just actors, but directors, producers, big money folks. They sailed into the luxe ballroom together, her sweaty hand clutching his.
“Don’t be nervous,” he whispered as a photographer swept by to capture a discreet pic. “These are just people. Remember that.”
She smiled up at him. “I know. I remember when you freaked me out big time. Now you’re just a person. A really wonderful person,” she added with another worshipful gaze.
Jesus Christ. The guilt. He kissed her, a short, sweet kiss. Was it only because the photog was still there sneaking pictures? No, it was because she was kind and effusive and...authentic. He looked around the room. Jeremy and Nell. Great to see them but he didn’t dare hang out with them. He saw the director of his last film, the one before Revelation. Nice guy. Slightly crazy. Gareth was there too. He came over to greet the two of them and they small talked for a while. Mason could see Gareth trying to ferret out the truth from their body language, their responses. Were they really together? Mason knew everyone suspected it was a stunt. Everyone but the American public—who wanted this fairy tale—and Miri, who thought he was a really wonderful person.
Well, he did feel like a wonderful person around her, when he wasn’t fantasizing about cuffing her to a rack and
forcing his cock into her virgin ass. She made him want to be a wonderful person rather than the oversexed pervert he knew himself to be, so he set about introducing her to any influential people he came across. There was a lot of good shop talk about big projects, even if Miri wasn’t in any of them. Yet. In a very promising powwow, a producer Mason respected very much asked her where she was planning to take her career. Mason hovered like a nervous parent, but she held her own. By the end of the conversation, the producer gave her his card and urged her to contact him. When the man left, Miri grasped Mason’s hand and squeezed it secretly, as if to say, Holy hell.
He leaned down to give her a quick nuzzle. “He liked you. You’re good at this.”
She sagged against his side. “I’m freaking out.”
Mason turned and watched in dread as David Ferris, arrogant producer and all around annoying blowhard, swaggered up to him, extending his hand. When Mason pretended not to see it, David clapped him on the arm instead—and he wasn’t a weak guy. Mason attempted a smile. David was powerful enough in Hollywood that a star of Mason’s caliber still had to play nice. And, well, this might be another opportunity for Miri. David had an eye for pretty ingénues and a very pretty one was slinking around somewhere behind Mason’s back. Gritting his teeth, he clapped David on the arm just as hard and met him head on. “David—” he began, reaching behind him for Miri.
“Mason, you dog,” David crowed. “Whose stroke of genius was it, having you squire Mireille Durand around town?”
Mason froze in the act of nudging Miri and suddenly wished she was miles away. “David—” Mason said again.
“Did a double take when I saw you with her at the Golden Globes, but then a friend spelled it out for me.” The portly man held up his drink as if in a toast. “From sexpot to sweetheart, and your image is restored. Great campaign. Who does your PR?”
Mason frowned. Was it his imagination or was everyone in the room suddenly staring at them? In the deepening silence, he felt rather than heard Miri move away. He felt the loss of her warmth, the loss of her presence. Ah, Miri, don’t let them see you fall apart. They’ll just enjoy it, and they won’t forget.
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