Unforgettable

by Nelle L'Amour

  I’m on fire. And if he only knew how really wet I am. Soaked with lust and desire. My breathing grows harsh. I may either jump out of my skin or faint. My burning need to come is consuming me. Taking over every ounce of my being. To make matters worse, the hardness between his legs grazes my backside. Holy cow! He’s as aroused as I am! Are we acting or is this for real? The line is blurred in the haze of steam.

  “I love you, Bra… um, uh Kurt.” Fuck. I almost flubbed my line.

  “The same, baby. I can’t get enough of you.”

  He flips me around so I’m facing him. His biceps flex as his deft hands grip my bare upper arms. I soak in his impassioned face, dripping with lust, his thick-lashed eyes smoldering with desire. I brush away a wisp of his slick hair that’s fallen into his eye. I think the script called for that.

  Moving his hands to my face, he tilts it up, his eyes never losing contact with mine. His head moves forward. Holy smoke! He’s going to kiss me! Maybe I missed that part in the script. My whole body quivers as his lips touch down on mine. Oh my God! It’s a veritable movie star kiss—deep, passionate, all-consuming. A kiss like none other. Thinking I may swoon, I moan again into his mouth and dig my fingernails into his hard biceps. He bites down on my lower lip, and then his tongue darts inside my parted mouth. It finds mine and we tango like we’ve danced this way forever. Whirling and swirling, my tongue follows his lead. I moan again—I’m not sure if that’s scripted—but I just can’t help it. Every muscle in my body is trembling with anticipation and desire. Without breaking the kiss, he draws me closer to him and starts grinding against me.

  “Alisha, my love, let’s make a baby.”

  The baby they will never see. Alisha, of course, doesn’t know this yet, and the thought of the tragedy that awaits her brings tears to my eyes. They mingle with the stinging needles of water, cascading over us while my character’s cherished husband and lover grinds harder and faster with urgency and zeal, rubbing against my aching clit. It’s all pretend, yet it feels so real. I can feel his swelling erection, straining against his soaked jeans and pulsating against me. It’s so hard, so hot, so ready to come. Clutching his shoulders, I fight the urge to slide a hand down to his fly and touch his extraordinary length. A bizarre thought crosses my mind—dry humping someone has never been this wet. I’m soaked through and through, so close to the edge. There’s a hot ball of fire between my legs the water can’t quench, and on his next thrust, I combust with a deafening scream of his name. I’m so enraptured, I don’t know if I’ve shouted out Kurt or Brandon, but who cares when his face contorts with pure ecstasy and he roars out, “Oh, baby.”

  Fade to black. I free myself from him and lean against the all-glass shower. Barely able to stand on my trembling legs, I collapse into a squat. My pussy’s throbbing, my mind’s murky, and my heart’s working hard. Brandon joins me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. Like mine, his breathing is shallow. He looks as shell-shocked as I feel. In a cloud of steam, we sit silently side by side, our bent legs touching, until our breaths and heartbeats calm down. The shower’s still on, the forceful spray still grazing us. The sound of the pounding water replaces the drum of my pulse in my ears. Brandon finally breaks our long, stunned silence.

  “Wow. You’re a really good actress.”

  “Thanks.” I don’t tell him I’ve had to be.

  “Did you ever consider becoming one?”

  I tell him I did and even took a few acting lessons. “But the truth is, there aren’t enough parts around for a girl like me so I decided to become a full-time masseuse.” I also don’t tell him that I took his assistant position with the remote hope of breaking into the biz.

  Twisting, he sweeps away a tangle of hair that’s dangling in my eyes. “Well, I think you missed your calling.”

  “Thanks.” My voice is a soft whisper.

  “No, thank you. You really helped me. I’ve got the scene down now.”

  “No prob. That’s part of my job.” I pause. “You were amazing.” Oh was he! My head is already set on instant replay.

  He smiles. “I may need your help again. It’s been rough getting back into the swing of things.”

  “Sure. Anytime.” I’m in love with Kurt Kussler, but I’m not supposed to fall for Brandon Taylor. That wasn’t in my job description. And besides, he can never be mine. He was just acting. Nothing was real. My heart grows heavy, soaked with reality.

  Brandon

  “Take that, you asshole!”

  POW!

  “I’m not done with you!” I grunt.

  POW! POW! POW! POW!

  Sweat pours from every crevice of my bare-chested body. Breathing heavily, I give the punching bag another hard punch, and then I prepare to give it a roundhouse kick. Distracted, I miss and I end up on my ass.

  Cursing under my breath, I punch the gleaming hardwood floor of my fully equipped, spacious home gym. So hard, it hurts. Damn that girl! And this isn’t the first time I’ve messed up. On account of my debilitating coma, I’m physically not in as good shape as I should be and mentally, I’m even worse off. I can’t focus.

  All afternoon, I’ve been working on the other scene I’m shooting tomorrow. An action-packed one in which I’ve got to battle one of The Locust’s henchmen. Hand to hand combat. I read online that I choreograph and do all my own stunts so I thought putting on some sweats and working out with a punching bag in my gym would be the most effective way to go. And to be honest, I thought a hard workout would get my mind off Zoey and release some of my pent-up energy. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that shower. I’ve been reliving it in my head like I’m the one with an eidetic memory, my throbbing cock a relentless reminder. I let myself get carried away, and I’m not sure if I was acting or not. That inexplicable attraction I have to my curvy assistant drove the emotion of every line and took me way beyond my scripted physical moves. I kissed her like I meant it, and for the first time since my accident, I had a mind-blowing orgasm. I swear she knocked me into outer space. Sent my head spinning, no pun intended. My cock gave me a standing ovation for my performance and it still hasn’t calmed down. It’s like it’s begging for an encore, but all it’s getting is a replay. Brain to cock: Listen, buddy, I’m engaged. In fact, Katrina and I have a dinner date to finish the discussion we started this morning about our wedding. I’m meeting her in an hour.

  Daylight morphs into dusk. Evening still comes early in mid-January. Picking myself up from the floor, I grab a towel and my cell phone that I left close by on a barbell bench. Throwing the towel around my neck, I slog over to the floor-to-ceiling window. My muscles ache almost as much as my cock. With a groan, I gaze out the glass pane, taking in the gray-pink sky and the glimmering lights of Los Angeles that dance in its midst. In the near distance, I glimpse Zoey’s guest cottage. The lights are burning bright. I haven’t seen her for hours. Mostly, she was out and about running errands for me. I did call her a couple times to check on her whereabouts and gave her a few dumb things to do like having my freshly laundered jeans pressed just so I could hear her voice. I acted like her boss when I wanted to act like her lover. And she fell for it.

  Then, she took me up on my offer and gave me a rude reminder. Texting me from the dry cleaner, she told me he couldn’t get her outfit done in time for her “hot” date. The skirt might even be ruined for good. My father was a man of honor and always told me never to break my word. So, I told her to go shopping and buy something new. Stupid me! I should have gone with her to monitor her selection to make sure it had a turtleneck and was two sizes too big.

  My skin prickles with sweat. Clenching my cell phone, I text her.

  I want to see what u bought.

  That’s right. My money. My eyes first. I swear if her new outfit’s too sexy, I’m going to make her take it off. Even if I’m the one who has to do it.

  Awaiting her reply, the rumble of a sports car in my driveway resounds in my ears.

  Ping. Her response.

  Too lat
e. I’m out the gate. Off on my date. :)

  The nerve of her to add a happy face! Get your ass back here is what I want to write back. The words are burning on my fingertips. Instead, I squeeze my phone like I want to strangle it. My blood is curdling with helpless rage. And it’s turning green with uncontrollable jealousy. An emotion I know I’ve never experienced even with my amnesia. Seething, I pivot toward the punching bag. I need to punch it again. This time pretending it’s that fucking boyfriend. And giving it to him until he cries.

  Halfway there, my cell phone vibrates in my hand. Loosening my grip, I glance down at the caller ID screen. The face of a beautiful blonde meets my eyes. Dammit. Katrina.

  Reluctantly, I answer.

  “Darling, I just wanted to make sure you’re getting ready. Our reservation is at seven.”

  It’s been almost two weeks since I came out of my coma. I still feel nothing toward her except growing dislike.

  My reservation has nothing to do with time.

  Zoey

  I pick at my spicy tuna roll with my chopsticks. Popular Sushi Roku is one of my favorite restaurants and usually I binge out on their outrageous rolls. But tonight I have no appetite. Since that shower with Brandon, I’ve felt sick to my stomach. I almost canceled my date with Jeffrey. But when he told me he was feeling down because Chaz was away for a few days doing trunk shows in the Midwest, I didn’t have the heart to let him down. Jeffrey’s always been there for me just as I have for him.

  “What’s wrong, Zoester?” asks my perceptive brother. “You don’t seem yourself. Are you sick or something?”

  I am sick. Lovesick. I’m crushing on my boss. People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.” A man I can never have. Should I tell him? All my life, I’ve told Jeffrey everything. Even my weight when it was at its highest. After a quick mental debate, I decide not to. I make up an excuse that’s partially true.

  “I had a hard day with Brandon.” Oh was it hard!

  Jeffrey pours some sake into our petite stoneware cups. I take a sip and the soothing hot liquid immediately seeps into my bloodstream.

  “Is that slave driver asking too much of you again?”

  You could say that. I sigh. “Yeah. He’s wearing me down.” Emotionally and physically.

  My boyishly handsome confidant scowls. “You can’t let him take advantage of you.”

  I take another sip of my sake and practically choke on it. Oh my God. Heading straight toward me is Mr. Slave Driver himself with a dazzling Katrina on his arms. All eyes are on the gorgeous Hollywood glamour couple. My heart beats into a frenzy. Oh, please God, don’t let him see me. I may vomit if he gets within ten steps of me. Frantically, I search for a menu. Something…anything to cover my face. Wait! My napkin. I’ll use that. I yank it off my lap, but it’s too late. He’s already made eye contact with me. Without a blink, he holds me fierce in his gaze.

  Jeffrey eyes me strangely. “Zoester, you’re acting all weird.”

  Bratrina is getting closer. My inner panic button sounds. “Quick, Jeffrey. Kiss me!”

  “Huh?”

  “Just do it! And make it look like you love me.”

  “I do love you.”

  “No, I mean like you’re my boyfriend.”

  Jeffrey’s eyes pop. “What?”

  Brandon is so close I can taste him. “Hurry, just do it!”

  “Zoester, you’re going gross on me.”

  “I know. Just no tongues. Hurry!”

  “You owe me.”

  “Fine.”

  Thank God, we’re sitting next to each other in a circular booth. On my next breath, Jeffrey slides in closer to me and his lips touch down on mine. They’re warm and silky, and taste sweet and a little salty from the sushi. While he’s nothing like Brandon, I always knew he must be a good kisser and he is. Banishing the thought of how inappropriate this is, I fist his spiky hair and deepen the kiss, prolonging it as much as I can. A sultry voice breaks it. Brandon’s!

  “Well, Ms. Hart, fancy meeting you here.”

  His manly gorgeousness is looming above me. Katrina gives me an icy look as if I’m nothing more than a slice of raw fish.

  I flutter my eyelids and smile at Brandon. “Well, hello.”

  He doesn’t smile back at me. His frosty eyes stay fixed on Jeffrey. “Do you mind introducing me to your companion?”

  “Oh, this is my boyfriend, Jeffrey.” I give Jeffrey a kick under the table. I hope he gets the message to play along.

  He does! He flashes his dazzling smile and, standing up, extends his hand. Brandon reluctantly shakes it as Jeffrey gushes.

  “So nice to finally meet you. Zoey has told me so many wonderful things about you.”

  Brandon’s eyes shift back to me. A brow lifts. “She has?”

  I keep smiling smugly while Katrina gives me another dirty look. Disdain flickers in her catty eyes.

  “Brandon, darling, let’s not waste our time with these pe…people.”

  Bitch! I just know she was going to say “peons.” I’d like to shove her superiority complex up her ass.

  Without losing eye contact with me, Brandon excuses himself.

  “Well, enjoy your dinner.” His jaw tightens. “And, Zoey, don’t forget to print out the rest of this week’s sides when you get home.”

  Newsflash. “I may not be going home tonight.” I shoot Jeffrey a seductive smile. He winks at me. My gay “boyfriend” deserves an Emmy. Matter of fact, give one to me too.

  Brandon’s violet eyes darken. Before he can say a word, the bitch wrenches him away. “Come on, darling. Our table is waiting.” As she turns on her heel, she hurls a snide comment at me.

  “Oh, and by the way, congratulations, Zoey. I honestly didn’t think someone like you would have any luck in the boyfriend department.”

  Jeffrey’s mouth parts, but I kick him again before he can throw an insult back at her. I’m going to play it cool.

  “Thanks, Katrina. Enjoy your dinner.”

  She snarls at me before leading Brandon to a nearby table. Brandon is seated facing me, his eyes glued to me. Grinning, I give him a little wave. With a frown, he buries his head in a menu.

  “What was that all about?” Jeffrey asks loudly.

  “Shh! They may hear you.”

  “Well?” His voice is urgent but softer.

  My chest tightens. Brandon’s eyes are back on me. I give Jeffrey an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “Just keep acting like we’re madly in love.”

  “Are you trying to make Brandon Taylor jealous?”

  “Snuggle with me and wrap an arm around me. Then, smack another kiss on my lips. By the way, you’re an excellent kisser.”

  “Thanks, but after that, no more mouth kisses.”

  “Deal.”

  Jeffrey does as bid. I keep one eye on Brandon. Ooh! He’s jealous alright. His brows furrow deep enough to make a crease while Katrina, oblivious, drinks champagne. I’m loving every minute of this charade.

  Jeffrey digs into a piece of the sushi as do I. My appetite’s suddenly come back with a vengeance.

  “He’s staring at you,” Jeffrey says after swallowing a mouthful of the tender fish.

  I make eyes at Brandon. My actions only taunt him more. His nostrils flare.

  “Feed me a piece of sushi. Then I’ll do the same. Keep smiling.”

  With his chopsticks, Jeffrey picks up another bite-sized sushi roll. I do the same. We exchange rolls. Nothing says love like a couple feeding each other.

  Jeffrey puts his chopsticks down. “Is there something going on between the two of you? I think he likes you.”

  My heart skips a beat and I swallow hard. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s attracted to you. I can tell by the way he looked at you. He’s still staring at you.”

  I meet Brandon’s smoldering gaze and my heart races. The memory of our shower rushes back into my head. My skin prickles. I can hardly breathe. Any hope that Jeffrey might be right comes to an abrupt halt when Brandon lets
Katrina take a hand to her mouth. My stomach churns watching her suck on his fingers.

  Jeffrey’s voice cuts into my misery. “Are you attracted to him?”

  “Every woman in the world is attracted to Brandon Taylor,” I answer defensively and then inwardly sigh. Part with relief that I’ve come up with a good line and part with remorse that Brandon can never be mine. Even if Katrina didn’t exist, I don’t belong in his world of glamour and glitz.

  My intuitive brother, who’s inherited Pops’s sixth sense for bullshit detection, rolls his long-lashed eyes. The no-nonsense straight shooter goes right for the zing. “Zoey Hart. You better level with me. You’re in love with him.”

  It’s more of a statement than a question. He’s right. Is it that obvious?

  “No,” I counter, my voice thin and unconvincing. “Honestly, it’s just a stupid schoolgirl crush.”

  “Come on, Zoester. You can’t fool me for a second. I’m going to tell Chaz.”

  “No, please don’t!” My panic only underscores the truth. I shrug in defeat. “Jeffrey, sweetie, I don’t want to talk about Brandon anymore.”

  My beloved brother looks at me with warmth in his caramel eyes. “Just know, Zoester, I’m always here for you.”

  “Thanks,” I say, clasping his hands. “I know that.”

  My voice trails off. Trying to stave off a wave of sadness, I absently play with my chopsticks. My eyes stay riveted on Brandon. I watch as he stands up and rounds his table to help Katrina out of her seat. With her heels on, they’re almost the same height. He tilts her head back with a thumb and plants a kiss on her lips.

  Jealousy spreads through me like a raging wildfire. Every organ inside me is burning to a crisp. Katrina saunters away—she must be going to the restroom. I wish she was going to burn in hell.

  Brandon buries his face back in his menu and completely ignores me. My heart sinks like the Titanic. Game over.

  Jeffrey, who’s witnessed the kiss, reads me like a magazine. “You’re too good for him.”