“Actually, I'm not sure if I'll be there,” he said. “Holly and I talked today and I'm going to have to start doing some more press. They've got interviews lined up for me all next week and at some point I have to head up to Santa Barbara for a photo shoot.”
“Oh, OK. Well whatever, it's just an open mike night. I understand,” I replied, shocked that this affected me so. I could feel my stomach tightening up as I realized that I had really been looking forward to having him hear me sing.
Grace, this isn't your boyfriend. This is someone who hasn't even seen you naked yet.
Well, he saw me almost naked. That was not for his lack of trying, though. Despite the fact that I had kept him away all week while I was working, he tried almost every night to talk me into coming out, or at least letting him come over. After his front door performance, I was sorely tempted. Nevertheless, I was being an adult and getting my work done first.
Was I maybe also playing a little hard to get? Oh, hell yes.
“Grace, you know I'll be there if I'm in town, right? You're not going to get rid of me that easily,” he assured me, and I could hear someone talking in the background. “Right then, they need me back on set. I'll ring you if I can't make it, otherwise I'll see you soon.”
“I'll talk you later. Hey, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“If I do see you tonight, you're going to finish what you started,” I teased, remembering what he promised the last time we were together.
He was quiet and I thought he had hung up until he said, almost in a whisper, “Grace, I will focus on nothing else in life until you come. I will start it and I will fucking finish it.”
Oh. My. God. The Brit was a little dirty birdie. I scraped myself off the floor and tried to start breathing again. “Hamilton, I have no words for you.”
“Good, I like you speechless. Now let me go work so I can get to you faster,” he teased and hung up.
Christ on a crutch…
***
I arrived at the club early and waited for my friends. Sitting at the bar, I nursed a hot tea, trying to get my mind off Jack's words. I was getting warm for his form just thinking about him, and I found myself wishing that the night were over so we could be together.
Girl, you got it bad.
Yes, but I was hoping to get it good. As I was sitting there, I felt a pair of hands on my waist and I smiled. I turned around and was not expecting what I saw.
“Bitch, this redhead has been identified!” It was Nick, and he was holding a copy of the TMZ picture from the beach. He was not pleased. “Tell me you are not fucking him. Please, God, tell me you haven't hit this.”
“Why would you assume that just by looking at this picture? Maybe we were just sharing some shrimp, a harmless lunch?” I protested, innocently.
“So, you haven't slept with him? Oh, thank you, Lord. I was going to smash my head through a plate glass window if you stole my British dreamboat before he knew he was secretly gay. I needed some more time to convince him.” He laughed, relaxing his posture.
“No, Nick, I haven't slept with him,” I answered truthfully, wondering how I was going to dodge this particular bullet.
“Not yet she hasn't. I give it another week before actual penetration happens,” Holly piped up, sneaking around me to steal a cherry from behind the bar.
“Dammit, Holly,” I started, watching Nick's face move through all shades of red and on towards purple.
“How could you? My dreamboat, my British hotness, my steak and kidney pie, my, my…” he stuttered, as I struggled not to laugh.
“Nick, I am sorry for your loss, but he's straight, thoroughly, completely straight. If there were a chance that he wasn't, I never would've kissed him. And that's all I've done, just kissed him.”
“He felt you up the other day. Oh, and almost made you scream up against my doorbell,” Holly added, smiling gleefully.
“Not helping,” I seethed through my teeth.
“Well, at least he's putting it to someone I know,” Nick started. “That makes me a little happy. And no one needs it more than you, except maybe you dear,” he said, suddenly turning on Holly. She gulped, swallowing her cherry.
“When did this become about me? I'm fine,” she protested, turning her own deep shade of purple.
“Oh, please, it's been months since you had sex with someone else in the room. And don't try to lie, I am in tune,” he said fiercely, placing his fingertips to his temple in an attempt to divine the last time Holly had gotten some.
I pulled myself away from the conversation, listening to them bicker back and forth. I needed to focus. I once again smoothed down my outfit, picking at nonexistent lint.
That night I had settled on a tight black linen button down, which was fitted, and I had left the top few buttons undone, strategically. I had paired it with black swingy pants, finishing off with The Urban Shoe Myth: Black Patent Leather Mary Janes. My hair was down, and I didn't even pretend to fool myself that I didn't wear it down for Jack. He had told me on the phone one night that he loved my hair, especially when it was curly. I was now analyzing what he said as if I was in junior high—which I was practically in when he was born…oh man.
Grace, settle. You have been over this. Jack is just Jack. Forget the age difference. Focus on the prize. The package is the prize.
The package was indeed the prize. I'd been dying to peek at that very package ever since the day I was straddling him on his bed with a back full of espresso welts. The boy was excited and I had taken notice. Let's just say that he could have had a gun in his pocket and been glad to see me, as well.
I kibitzed with Nick and Holly for a bit, and when performers started taking the stage, I scanned the crowd for Jack. It was almost nine-thirty, and no sign of the Brit. Ah well, I knew he was going to try; re-shoots must have run longer than he'd anticipated.
When the host called my name, I climbed on stage with my guitar. I had picked two different songs and I was happy with my choices. Watching Holly and Nick applaud for me, I let the familiar feeling that I got from performing take me. It always made me a little high. I closed my eyes, found my center, and when I finished the intro, I opened my mouth to sing.
That's when I saw him. He was by the bar, several feet away from Holly and Nick and he was staring at me, smiling. I sucked back my breath with a whoosh and grinned back at him, feeling my tummy flip. I was so knocked out by this guy, it was seriously twisted how into him I was.
So I began to sing, and I could not tear my eyes away from his. They penetrated me, all the way down to my tingling tiptoes, and it was all I could do to get through the song. I focused on the lyrics, asking with my eyes if he was up for this, for all of it, for all of me. I had chosen “Strong Enough” by Sheryl Crow and the song was perfect for tonight.
His gaze locked on mine through it all, nodding his head along with me, as the words in the song asked him all the questions that it was way too soon for me to actually ask. He stayed with me throughout, and when it was over, he applauded louder and longer than everyone else did, even adding a few wolf whistles. I thanked the audience, handed my mic to the host, and strode purposefully through the crowd. I was taking what I now considered mine and damn the consequences.
“Grace, that was amazing—” I silenced him with my mouth, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his face to mine, forcefully meeting his lips with my own. With my free hand, I grasped his wrist, placed his hand on my ass, and pushed him up against the bar. His eyes were wide with surprise, but quickly mirrored back my own growing need.
I couldn't think, I couldn't hear, I couldn't focus on anything except this man in front of me and the fact that, if I couldn't feel him, and very soon, I would quite literally burst. As I pressed my tongue against his frantically, I felt his hands grow urgent, pulling me closer against him, and I was ready to mount him on the freaking bar. Luckily, there was enough of my brain working and enough of his British manners to prevent this, and as we became aw
are that the clapping had shifted from my singing to our very public groping, we separated, although reluctantly.
I looked at him, blonde curls messy and sexy, and I nearly lunged again. As it was, I had already started trying to kiss his neck when I felt Holly's hand on me.
“Grace, there's a lot of people watching. And there are at least ten girls that recognize Jack. Settle,” she warned, attempting to step between us. Jack wasn't having any of it and kept me tucked against this side.
“Fuck all that, Holly. I don't care who they recognize,” he said, his hands still roaming across my hips and working their way up and down my back. I heard Holly exhale and I dragged my eyes away from Jack's long enough to look around. She was right, there were at least three groups of girls staring at us, and one was pulling out her phone.
“Shit,” I swore, backing away from him, leaving him alone at the bar. He grimaced and tried to pull me back.
“Hold on just wait a minute, Holly's right,” I started. He tried to interrupt and I placed a finger over his lips. I heard the fangirl posse closest to us collectively hiss.
Holly watched me closely. I removed the offending finger slowly, as to not antagonize the seething posse. I continued. “Holly's right, and I think Holly would also like to remind me at this time that she and Nick are going out for a late dinner, isn't that right Holly?” I turned to look at her, as a slow grin began to creep across the Brit's face.
“We are?” Holly asked, looking confused. Nick just looked happy to be standing so close to Jack and was trying to accidentally-on-purpose touch his elbow with his own. None of this was lost on Jack by the way.
“Yes, I believe you are. And I also believe that you will be gone for at least two hours,” I added.
“Two hours?” Jack interrupted, looking insulted. “A really good, thorough, dinner will take at least three to four hours, maybe even longer. It depends on how hungry you are, how satisfied you want to be. You might even want multiple courses…in fact, I can guarantee, when I have dinner…I usually cannot stop at just one. I practically insist on multiples. Courses, that is,” he finished, surreptitiously snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me back against him. His eyes were on fire as he looked at me and I could no longer feel my legs. What was directly above my legs however, I could feel intensely.
During this last exchange, Nick had begun to breathe rather heavily and was now leaning on the bar fanning himself. Holly's eyes even got a little glazed over listening to Jack, to say nothing of the bartender, who was now leaning across the bar, looking quite beside herself.
I peeled myself off the Brit, looked at Holly and said, “OK, you heard the man. Dinner, right now, you two…at least three hours. If you come home before that, I make no promises that you won't see a little ass.” I turned back to Jack and said, “You and me, let's roll.” He grabbed my hand and started to pull me towards the front door.
Holly stepped in front of him. “Hey, can I be your manager for just a minute? It's not a good idea for you to be photographed with anyone and there could be cameras out there. Not to mention, you know, those girls are all watching you like a hawk. It'll be all over the internet tonight if you leave with Grace, especially holding her hand, which I personally think is sweet by the way.” She stopped briefly to flash a quick smile at me. “You should stay here for a few minutes, talk to them, let Grace get out of here. You can meet her at my house in just a little while.”
Jack looked back and forth between me and Holly, listening. He thought for a minute and glanced at me. I shrugged. I didn't care. I just needed the man so badly at this point, it didn't much matter how it happened.
“I'll do this your way, but then you have to do something for me,” he told Holly, winking at me.
“What's that?” Holly asked.
He pressed something in her hand. “Get dessert too. It's on me,” he answered. With that, he tapped on his watch, holding up ten fingers, staring devilishly at me. He bit down on that perfect lower lip, and as I felt my tummy go silly, he walked over to the first group of girls.
I didn't see Nick swooning. I didn't see Holly waving her arms across my field of vision, trying to get my attention. I didn't see the seething posse begin to squeal as he made his way over to them to sign a few autographs. I only saw him, and then the asphalt in the parking lot as I ran to my car.
Thank, God, you waxed.
***
As I drove home, I began mentally checking off what I might need for my little British tryst.
Sexy lingerie? Already wearing it.
Hot music for the background? Got it covered.
Clean sheets? April fresh.
Condoms?
Yep, and the pill too.
Wait, condoms? That was a trick question…are you sleeping with him tonight?
I put that question in the “Grace Will Make That Decision Later” box and focused back on the fact that yoga had made me very bendable and I knew someone was going to be very pleased. Then I would most likely be very pleased.
He would be all about pleasing me.
I let out a hyperactive little squeal as I thought about how thoroughly I was about to be worked. I had the top down and the stereo loud as I drove through the streets of L.A. on my way to Mulholland, singing Dramarama at the top of my lungs. I was driving up Coldwater Canyon when I saw the headlights behind me.
They came up fast and did not back off. I could see a car swerving in my rear view mirror and could hear the engine revving fast. I pressed my foot on the accelerator and maneuvered higher up the mountain. When I took a tight curve, I saw the car get even closer and I realized that it was an old beat up MG. It was Jack. He was driving like a bat out of hell…and gaining.
He was pushing me to drive faster.
I smirked in my mirror and put my left hand out of the window. I motioned to him with my hand, telling him to “Bring It!” I shook my hair out of the ponytail I usually wear when I drive with the top down and heard him honk in appreciation.
He was chasing me like Kelly McGillis chased Tom Cruise in Top Gun. Tires were squealing, brakes were being stomped, other drivers were yelling and pissed. I was already breathing heavily in anticipation of what was waiting for me when we finally got home.
He continued to chase me up the hill and when I got closer to the driveway of Holly's house, he swerved up next to me and sped ahead, getting into the spot first. He had parked, jumped out, and was halfway to my car before I had even killed my engine. Music from my stereo screamed into the night as he stalked over to the car.
“You're fucking nuts!” I yelled, watching him walk towards me.
“I thought you needed a little push,” he answered, closing the distance in three quick strides. I turned my keys off and didn't even have a chance to move from my seat before he had my hair in his hands, running through it. The music cut off sharply.
Silence.
“Get out of the car, Grace,” he commanded quietly, holding my face between his fingers, pressing the tips to my lips. I kissed them gently and slid from the car.
When I turned from him to shut the car door, he was on me. Arms slid around my waist, hands slipped under my shirt, lips pushed against my neck, hips pressed against my own. The breath was forced out of me with a rush, quickly followed by a moan. He was everywhere all at once.
My hands found his hair and I tugged his mouth towards mine, greedily kissing him with all that I had worked up in my head since the bar. He spun me, nudging me up against my car. My hands were wild, in his hair, on his face, gripping the back of his neck as he assaulted my own with his kisses. His hands moved to the front of my shirt, snapping two buttons almost instantly. I was suddenly reminded of where we were and I pulled back a little.
“Hey, let's take this inside, Hamilton.”
“That's the plan, Sheridan,” he whispered hotly against my neck, moving his hand down and applying pressure against my center. “I'm trying to get inside.”
“Oh. My. God,” I moaned, my w
ords catching in my throat as my eyes rolled back in my head. I pressed into his touch, deliciously increasing the friction. I was literally panting and beginning to see stars. He continued to twist and turn his fingertips, finding more and more ways to make me moan.
I was a screamer…always have and always will be a screamer, provided it is done right. When it's off, I'm as quiet as a church mouse.
This man is going to make you lose your voice for days at a time.
I could feel myself beginning to build already, and I didn't want the first time Jack made me lose my mind to be in my best friend's driveway. My best friend's guest bedroom, where I was currently residing? That, I was OK with.
“Hey, mister, come on. Let's go in the house,” I directed, continuing to kiss whatever was closest to me. In this case, it was his ear.
“If you insist, but then you're all mine,” he snarled, pulling me off the car and toward the house. There was a frantic moment at the front door when I couldn't find my key, but once inside, my pants were damn near forcibly removed.
We raced towards the stairs, but as we climbed, our kisses slowed a little, becoming more and more tender, less frenzied. I walked him down the hall to my room and we stood in the doorway. The lights were on and we both hesitated in front of the door. Things were about to change, for the better, hopefully, but definitely change.
“This is my room,” I said quietly, almost shyly. I motioned for him to enter and he did. He looked around, checking the pictures on the dresser, the books on the shelf, the CDs by the stereo, finally settling on my iPod in its docking station.
“I'm dying to know what you have cued up.” He laughed, pressing play.
“No wait, don't!” I started across the room, cringing at the inevitable.
Jack burst out laughing as old school gangster rap screamed into the room and he sank onto the bed. The mood had shifted. There was still that smolder, that burn, but this was us after all. There would be laughing along with the loving. I stood in front of him, letting his hands slink up around me to hold my bottom as he nestled his face against my stomach. I could feel his hot breath on my skin and it tickled, pleasantly.
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