Dirty Talk

by S. L. Scott

  She wobbles back, but catches herself. “Fine,” she replies tersely.

  Sighing, I look down, frustrated that I’m letting a conversation between co-workers get to me. When I look back at her, I say, “My bad mood will only ruin your good one. You stay and party as late as you want and I’ll be back in the room waiting for you.” She looks up at me, but doesn’t reply. “Goodnight.” I turn and leave, hearing the crosswalk light beep, signaling me to cross. Once I’m on the other side of the street, I look back. She’s gone. Shit.

  Disappointment settles into impatience. I want to spend time with her, but I can’t do that with everyone around because I don’t think I can hide how I feel for her any longer. Just as I reach the hotel, I hear quick-approaching footsteps from behind. Jane stops where she is on the sidewalk. Even the dark skies can’t stop her beaming smile, her hopefulness displayed in her eyes. I ask, “What are you doing here?”

  “I only went back to get my purse,” she replies, holding it up.

  “I mean, why are you here when everyone else is there and having a good time?”

  She comes to me. Standing toe to toe, she says, “I was only there waiting for you, so if you don’t want to be there, I don’t either.”

  “My night will be boring in comparison. I’m just going to bed.”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than go to bed with you, Luke.”

  Knowing everyone is back at the bar, I wrap my arm around her freely, renewed from her enthusiasm. “Replace ‘go to bed’ with ‘have sex’ and I’m happy.”

  My ribs get an elbow needled in just enough to make me flinch, but only slightly. She’s laughing, and that in and of itself is a beautiful thing. With the business deals falling together behind the scenes, I want us staying on track.

  I repeat what’s become my mantra: there is no way I’m losing her again. I refuse to let that happen and will do everything I can to protect her and keep what we’ve got going again.

  CHAPTER 21

  ~Jane~

  LIFE SHOULDN’T BE this good.

  I almost feel guilty feeling this happy.

  We’re surrounded by thousands of people, but we blend in like any other couple there to see the band at Auditorium Shores. Just the two of us here, able to act how we want, is a nice reprieve from all of the group events we’ve been attending over the last few weeks. Keeping things professional takes a toll on me some days. I just want to enjoy every minute I get to see Luke, knowing how special this time together on the set is in the scheme of life. This is what we had dreamed about all those years ago now that I think about it. Being involved in the same project, creating together.

  An afternoon off is just what we need. The wine bottle is half-full, and most of the food has been eaten. I crawl around the picnic basket and kiss his cheek.

  “What’s that for?” he asks, a smirk in place on his face.

  “Just because I can.”

  I’ve seen other women checking him out, some extremely pretty, but he seems almost oblivious to the attention.

  Almost.

  He’s not blind.

  At six foot two with dark hair, blue eyes, a chiseled jaw that makes me want to bite it, sculpted ass that could put a Roman statue to shame, and another part of his body that makes me want to do naughty things to him, Luke is the full package and has got an even bigger one—literally.

  He’s well endowed. Beyond knowing from first-hand knowledge, but I’m also a writer. I’ve looked up the topic on Google… for research, I convince myself.

  Fine. I’ll admit that the man knows he’s attractive. He’s just not an arrogant ass about it. Luke has a knack for putting everyone at ease, his charms work on women and men alike.

  Don’t even get me started on how hot he looks in those Wayfarers. Damn him and his naturally sexy self.

  He interrupts the naughty thoughts I’m having and says, “The band’s good.”

  Settling down onto my back, I rest my head on his lap. Clear blue skies for as far as the eye can see. I take it as a good sign for where we are in our relationship as well. His fingertips tickle as they pull the straps down from my shoulders one at a time. My breasts are covered, but the top of my chest is exposed to the sunshine. He leans forward, his shadow covering my face and upper body, and asks, “You ready to go back to LA? Only one week left.”

  “I’m not ready for reality.”

  He chuckles. “I don’t know about you, but this movie has been a heavy dose of reality for me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lifting his head, he watches concert goers roam around, hopping over towels and blankets that are spread over the grassy field. He looks back down at me, takes his sunglasses off, and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Just work stuff.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  He’s had a lot on his mind lately, made a lot of calls, and been stressed. Trusting that it’s behind him, I say, “That’s good, but you know you can talk to me if you—”

  “I don’t want to talk about work. I want to enjoy this date. I like that it’s finally just us alone.”

  “Me too.” I give him a reassuring smile. He always did try to protect me from the stresses of life. If he only knew I would take the weight of the world on my shoulders for him if he needed. I decide to push the heavy away. Enjoying the indie rock, I close my eyes remembering how we used to be together like this all the time…

  A picnic, beers, and beach volleyball make a perfect Sunday.

  Except this day was organized by Danny. We’ve been friends with him for years now, and he’s been Luke’s best friend for a while. In the time we’ve known him he’s become famous. With that fame, we’ve been privy to a lot of uncomfortable situations like paparazzi hounding us outside restaurants, nightclubs, and when I look over my shoulder, I see a guy with a long lens hanging out of his car in the parking lot.

  I know Danny means well. He hates living under the microscope as much as we do, but when you add in a bunch of mostly naked swimsuit models, we get more attention than normal. They’ve been prancing around on the sand for the camera that they’re more than aware of, and love.

  While I sit on the doublewide towel spread over the sand somewhat hiding, Luke’s been playing volleyball. He goes to retrieve the ball when it is hit out of bounds by one of the girls. She’s wearing a suit that would only be considered a swimsuit next to a birthday suit. He retrieves it and tosses it to her and one of her nips slips out. She acts shy, slightly embarrassed, but her acting skills are lacking.

  My boyfriend is a saint.

  He covers his eyes, but she insists that he help her tighten the top. At least Danny notices, winks at me, and goes to her rescue, sending Luke out of the game.

  Luke lands next to me on the towel. He lies back and pulls me to him. I go willingly, lying on top, and ask, “You weren’t much of a knight in shining armor to that damsel in distress.”

  Laughing, he replies, “Distress is not the word I would have chosen for her.”

  “What word would you choose?”

  “Since we’re at the beach, shark comes to mind.”

  Now I laugh, and roll off to his side, tucking my head in the shadow of his arm. After a quick peck to his bicep, I maneuver into one of my favorite positions with him. He sits up, resting on his elbows while I rest my head on his lap. He takes the baseball cap from his head and rests it on mine to block the sun from my face. “Don’t get burned,” he says casually, watching the game continue.

  I smile from his thoughtfulness. “What’s the game plan for tonight?”

  The cap is tilted and he looks down into my eyes, his practically twinkling with insinuation. “You’re the only thing on my agenda.”

  “Oh really? Go on…”

  “First,” he says, dragging his finger under the hem of my tankini top, then skips up to my lips, running over them gently. “I’m going to ravage this mouth.”

  I smile. “And then?”
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  “Then,” he starts, his fingertips grazing lightly down my neck to the top of my cleavage. “I’m going cover you with kisses, maybe even hickeys.”

  “No hickeys.”

  “Hickeys, but no one else will see them except for me. All right?”

  “Okay.” I continue waiting with bated breath to hear what else he has planned.

  “You know those freckles on your hip?”

  “Yes.”

  “Those are mine. I’m going to mark each one, then move to your puss—”

  “Ugh. You know I hate that word.”

  His roguish smile promptly reminds my body how much I crave his. “I know you hate it, but I’m going to use it anyway because that sweet pussy of yours tastes like heaven and feels like hell, torturing my soul until I’m so far in there that our—”

  “Our bodies are one again?”

  “Our souls, baby. So our souls are one again.” His smile isn’t mischievous this time, but completely swoon-worthy.

  I sit up and spin around so I’m facing him. Letting my hand run the course of his hard and sweaty abs, I find him utterly intoxicating in ways I never knew possible. “I love you.”

  Leaning forward, he cups my face. “I love you.” The kiss leaves no room for mistaking who he loves.

  It’s a kiss that I feel deep inside, causing my tummy to tingle. When we part, I open my eyes, my breath coming in pants. “What do you think about starting that game plan sooner than later?”

  “Let’s go.”

  …I finish another glass of wine and tuck the glass back into the basket. “Where’d you get this?”

  Delight tantalizes in his eyes. “I have my ways. If you’re ready to go, our chariot awaits.”

  “Chariot? Now I’m feeling spoiled.”

  Luke tilts his head and kisses my neck. “Is it wrong that I love to spoil you?”

  I giggle. “Do you want me to answer that honestly? Because the answer will always be it’s not wrong. It’s soooo right.”

  Leaning his forehead against mine, he whispers, “I want to be with you.”

  “You are with me,” I reply, stroking his cheek.

  “Back in LA.”

  My heart leaps to life, racing from his words. With amaze and elation in my voice, I ask, “Luke?”

  “Janie?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I want us together in LA.”

  My lips part as I go through all the meanings of such a simple phrase, making sure this is real, that he is real, the words he speaks from the heart are real and I’m not dreaming. When I don’t speak, he adds, “I don’t even know where you live. Did you know that? You’ve never told me.”

  “You’ve never asked.”

  “I should have. We’ve been so caught up here that it was easy to forget about life there.”

  “With one week left it’s good we talk about it, for you to know the truth.” I lie back on the blanket. “I don’t currently have a home.” When silence creeps between us, I dare to glance his way. “You wanted honesty.”

  “Of course I want honesty. I just don’t understand what you mean by you don’t have a home. You literally don’t live anywhere?”

  “No. I put my stuff in my car and drove here.”

  By the changing expressions on his face, he still doesn’t seem to comprehend what I’m saying. “You had some boxes and two suitcases?”

  The upturn at the end is heard and I see the question in his eyes. Discomfort starts rumbling through my chest, walls wanting to rebuild are held in place while I debate what to say. When I take too long to answer, he asks, “What’s going on?”

  No sense in hiding the ugly truth from him. I have nothing to be ashamed of and I don’t want to lie to him anyway. “I had nowhere to go, so I lived in one of those extended-stay hotels.”

  “For how long?”

  “Months.”

  “It had been months when we went into preproduction and probably two since I saw you at the party. With Lawrence.”

  “Why do you sound mad?”

  His frustration is evident as he looks away from me while running his hand through his hair. “I’m not mad. I’m confused as to why you were living in a hotel.”

  “Hotel is putting it nicely. It was kind of between a hotel and a motel,” I say, trying to lighten up the situation.

  Standing up, he starts throwing our trash into the basket. “Stop joking around.”

  “Why are you so upset?” I reach out to touch him, to get him to look my way, but when he doesn’t, I say, “Look at me, Luke. Why are you upset?”

  “I’m upset because you chose to live in a hotel instead of coming to me.” He tugs the blanket, giving me more than a healthy hint of his intentions. I stand and he gathers our stuff and starts back in the direction we came.

  When I catch up to him, I have to move twice as fast to stay caught up. “How could I come to you? You had women in and out of your house quicker than I could find your number in my contacts.”

  “Fuck that. You left me.”

  Staring at this man who is usually a vision of strength now doused in pain, I stop. My shoulders sag under the weight of the grief he still bears years later. His pain is fully exposed for the first time. Through his sorrow, he would have still protected me, taken care of me at the expense of his own heart. Even though he feels as if I gave up on him and walked away from our relationship with the intent of never coming back, he would have helped me.

  I hurt him.

  In my anger and pain I never saw the damage I did or the pain I was causing him.

  Spending time with him, I have forgiven him, because I realized I didn’t have a right to hold to a grudge any longer. But I don’t think he’s forgiven me. I think he wants to, but underneath that confident, cocky façade, is the geeky boy I said yes to back in high school. I gave him my heart and he gave me his. But when I told him I wasted years of my life waiting on him, I damaged his heart. How could I have said that to him? It was what I felt at the time, in the heat of the moment, my rage determining my words.

  While trying to make him see how hurt I was I never meant to cause him pain. I can’t go back in time, but I can reassure him that I want us back, that I had never intended to leave permanently. My broken, beautiful man.

  He doesn’t notice I’m not next to him for a good thirty feet or so. When he does, he looks over his shoulder and around as if he’s lost something…

  Our gazes connect. Even from a distance, we’re both drowning in the heartache I caused, one I’ve tried so hard to replace with a better emotions. The basket and blanket are dropped and he jogs back, taking my face in his hands. His touch is too light, too careful as his eyes search mine. “Hey,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m starting to hate those words. We say them too much and they don’t heal like they used to.”

  “Then let’s not say them anymore.”

  “How do we repair the damage I’ve done?”

  “I should have come after you.”

  “You were right not to. I was petulant—”

  “You were frustrated.” A slight smile takes hold of him. “We were both wrong and lost sight of who we were.”

  “I lost sight of us. I’m sor—”

  “Nope. We just agreed not to say it.” I nod and he adds, “We have a second chance to right this, and I’m not willing to give that up.” His lips meet mine and in it the apologies are caressed away. “With love.”

  “With love?” I ask.

  “The only way we can repair the damage we’ve done is by staying present and loving each other through it.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  Another kiss.

  “It’s only as hard as we make it.”

  “Let’s not make it any harder. Okay?” I slide my arms around him.

  Looking at me with the most devilish grin I’ve seen in forever, he says, “Speaking of hard.”

  “Oh good Lord, Luke.” I head for ou
r stuff with a smile on my face that I refuse to let him see because if I do, he’ll know he won me over. Just like he always does. And right now, I like the way he’s chasing, racing me to the stuff. He picks me up and swings me around.

  As soon as my feet land on the ground again and the laughter dies down, I grab him and hold him still long enough to admit, “I was scared.”

  “Of me?”

  I nod. “You’re the only one I ever gave my heart to, Luke Anders. You’re also the only one who ever broke it. So yes, I was scared to come to you in such a transitional time in my life.”

  “We’ve wasted a lot of time protecting ourselves from the only thing that ever really mattered.” Right there in the middle of thousands of people, he kisses me like we’re back in the hotel room alone.

  He kisses me, claiming me in ways that make me feel beautiful on the inside.

  I feel his love for me.

  He kisses me, the embrace of our tongues confessing every sin I’ve ever wanted to commit with him.

  I feel his desire for me.

  He kisses me, and then says, “Let’s not waste any more.” And he doesn’t, sweeping my heart up with his and kissing me again.

  I feel whole.

  CHAPTER 22

  ~Luke~

  “SIX DAYS. THAT’S all we need.”

  “I’ll be a nice guy and give you seven. If it’s not wrapped in seven, I own whatever is done with the film and your house. By the way, I had my agent drive by it yesterday. It’s prime real estate, two to three mil when it’s listed. I’m going high since it will be all profit for me,” Robert says.

  “Don’t be an asshole unless I don’t deliver.”

  “Just preparing.”

  “I’ve got to go. Seven days.” When I hang up, I rub my temples trying to ease the headache I’ve had for days. I know it won’t go away anytime soon though. How did I not see this coming? I reached out to him as a friend, but I got the shrewd businessman for my effort. I’ve watched him pull the plug on projects before. I’ve also seen him win awards for movies he believed in. His unreliability is starting to remind me of a certain actress. This is what I get for making a deal with the devil disguised as a friend.