Acting Brave (Fenbrook Academy #3 - New Adult Romance)

by Helena Newbury

  The guilt clawed away at me from the inside, but all I could do was wait and pray he came back so that I could repair the damage. I called a cab. With luck, Nick would be home when we got back.

  ***

  I glimpsed him through the window of the bar and ran the rest of the way, which meant that I was just a little breathless and giggly when I swung the door wide. God, he looked good enough to gobble down whole. Soft, dark hair a little tousled, blue eyes almost seeming to glow in the bar’s dim light. He had on a white shirt and a pair of jeans so dark blue they were almost black.

  He looked up, saw me..., and gawped. So I leaned against the door frame and let him. A good gawp from someone you like can be better than any compliment. I let my body press against the frame just-so, my boobs bulging a little at the top of my dress. I tilted my head to the side, my hair cushioning me against the frame, and smiled at him.

  I was secretly delighted when his gawp got even wider.

  I walked in and he held his hands out to take mine, spinning me around in the center of the room as he looked at me. His eyes tried to follow my ass, then got distracted by my boobs, then went to my face, then got caught up on my hips. Seeing such a huge bear of a man reduced to helplessness by lust was hugely gratifying.

  “Wow,” he said eventually.

  I waited. “Anything else?” I said at last.

  He shook his head slowly. “Can’t manage anything else. Just...wow.”

  I smiled and, to my surprise, found myself flushing a little. I hadn’t been expecting that. I’d been gawped at plenty by strangers when I wore something tight or low cut and I thought I was used to it. Then it hit me that this was him, and that made all the difference. I was doing my fair share of gawping back at him, too, even if I managed to be a little more subtle about it. I kept looking at his hands, big and warm and packed with strength. I imagined them holding onto my waist, lifting me, lowering me onto him. Or sliding up my body to scoop up my naked breasts. Or closing gently on my head, fixing me in place while he stared into my eyes and slowly thrust inside me—

  He caught my eye and I realized I’d gone very quiet. Okay, maybe I hadn’t been as subtle as I’d thought.

  To cover my embarrassment, I looked around at the place. The wrap party was at an upmarket cocktail bar in one of the trendy zip codes, all black, mirror-like table tops, recessed lighting, and soft leather seats. A banner proclaimed that this was the Blue & Red Wrap Party—Dixon had hired out the entire bar and invited every member of the cast and crew, all the way down to the stagehands.

  And then, to my surprise, Ryan took my arm. I looked at it, then looked around fearfully.

  “Dixon knows about us,” Ryan told me. “We don’t have to hide it anymore. He’s fine with it.”

  “Really? That’s all he wanted, earlier?” I asked. Dixon had looked worried when I’d seen him watching from the doorway.

  Ryan looked at me for a long moment. “Yeah,” he said. “That was it.”

  Chapter 54

  Ryan

  Her smile was so bright, her eyes as beautiful as they shone with enthusiasm that I couldn’t tell her the truth. I couldn’t tell her the rest of what Dixon had said, and that I thought he was right about it. I grabbed a couple of glasses of champagne from a waiter who was offering them around. “To the future,” I said, and I meant it. The only thing that mattered was that her dreams were coming true. The pilot was wrapped and seemed to have gone well. If the show got picked up for a full season, there was no way they’d cut Jasmine’s character. Even if I never made it back onto the force, or even if the captain took me but my anger meant I couldn’t stay, at least we had that.

  Now that we didn’t have to hide the fact we were seeing each other, we walked around arm-in-arm. Everyone nodded and smiled at us approvingly and no one looked the slightest bit surprised. “Were we that obvious?” she asked.

  “Maybe we’re not as good actors as we thought,” I said.

  Jasmine said goodbye, individually, to everyone in the room, Facebooking every one of them on her phone. She talked to actors about what movie or show or commercial they had planned next. I took the time to banter with the other cops about their precincts and how real life compared to playing a cop in the show. I’d been so busy, between learning lines, rehearsing, and filming that it felt as if I’d barely met half of them. And now that I had time, I was about to leave for good.

  I noticed Tyler across the room, looking right at her. With me gone, they’d write him in as the main love interest. That was probably the reason they’d brought him in and started the little love triangle. Dixon had talked about options—yeah, they’d given themselves the option of getting rid of the big, stupid, blue collar lunk and replacing him with a real actor.

  He was still looking at her. I’d felt briefly better about it, when I’d “kissed him out of her.” Now, knowing that he might well have months of filming with her, and that I wouldn’t be there...just as I’d feared, I felt the anger rising again. My hands tightened into fists and I quickly looked away before I started to lose it.

  ***

  There were speeches from Dixon and a few of the other higher-ups. A photographer wandered the room taking photo of groups of us. It was like a graduation ball, in a lot of ways, everyone happy but tearfully saying goodbye, not sure when or if they’d see each other again. There was even dancing. We looked at the dance floor, looked at each other and both shook our heads.

  I stayed away from Tyler and managed to calm down. But I knew that that problem hadn’t gone away.

  As the evening went on, I noticed that Jasmine kept trying to build up to something. “Come on,” I said. “What?”

  She looked up at me and bit her lip, and she looked so goddamn beautiful in that moment that I nearly scooped her up in my arms and kissed her right then. She shyly whispered, “When we’re done here...how about we head back to my place?”

  I nodded, assuming she meant to talk. I was completely in the mindset that I needed to give her as much time as it took so it didn’t even occur to me that—

  Then I saw the look in her eyes.

  “Oh,” I said, “Oh!” I perked right up, grinning like a loon. “Yeah. Hell yeah!” Looking at her in that dress sent a hot throb of arousal down inside me, one that ended right between my legs. Was she really hinting that—?

  She squeezed my hand and smiled.

  “We could just leave now,” I said quickly. “Get a cab. Be at your place in—”

  “Down, boy,” she said, laughing. “I want to see Dixon do karaoke.”

  So we stayed for the singing and even a little very slow, very careful dancing with me only treading on her toes twice. Dixon handed out wrap presents for everyone—police-style leather jackets with the name of the show emblazoned on the back, together with our names. He thanked all of us and wished us all every luck in the world, both those of us possibly coming back for the series and—he looked at me—those of us moving on.

  And then I couldn’t wait any longer. I took Jasmine by the hand, led her outside, and damn well stood in the center of the street until a cab stopped.

  Chapter 55

  Jasmine

  I could barely sit still on the cab ride to my apartment. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it. Should I drag him to the bedroom as soon as we got through the door? Or should I start ripping his clothes off in the hallway outside?

  When we got there, though, the first thing I did was to run to Nick’s room. He wasn’t there. I cursed under my breath.

  “What’s up?” asked Ryan from behind me.

  “Nothing.” I put on a false smile to reassure him but, as soon as I turned and saw him, it changed into a real one. God, he looked so good, and it was finally going to happen…but Nick, what about Nick?

  I took a deep breath. I was worried about Nick, but there was nothing I could do until he either showed up or replied to one of my messages. And I finally had Ryan right there, strong and gorgeous, and he wanted me. Just for onc
e, I decided, I was going to give myself a break. I wasn’t going to let my past ruin it. Tonight would be about us.

  I showed Ryan to the living room and then went into the kitchen, my heart thumping so hard I thought it was going to jump out of my chest. I quietly closed the kitchen door. And then I took off the dress.

  Jasmine was back in the driver’s seat and this is what she did. Ryan wasn’t going to know what hit him. I’d give him the full Jasmine Experience.

  There wasn’t a mirror in the kitchen, but I took a look at myself in the handle of the oven door. Pale skin. Long red hair. Black bra and panties and gray hold ups. High, high heels, also black. Ooh la la. But still not enough. It needed something….

  I dug in the cupboards. I had one somewhere. I’d literally never used it. Clarissa had bought it for me for a present but toast was as close to cooking as I ever got so it had remained buried ever since....there!

  I shook out the apron and put it on. Oh, wow. The front was low enough that it was just a bounty of cleavage for him and the bottom flapped around my thighs, covering me demurely at the front but leaving me completely exposed at the back. He was going to love it.

  “Ryan?” I called softly. “Could you give me a hand in here for a second?”

  He came through the door—God, he was so big I was surprised he didn’t have to duck his head. And, for the second time that night, his jaw dropped.

  I put one hand on my hip and gave a little wiggle. Then I made my voice low and throaty and looked up at him through half-closed eyes. “I think I burned the muffins,” I husked. “I’ve been a bad girl.”

  His eyes took in my breasts, bulging over the top of the apron. My hips and ass, their curves exaggerated by my pose. My long, nylon-clad legs.

  “Maybe you should spank me,” I drawled.

  His mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. Hmm. Maybe he prefers the good girls. He is a cop, after all. I stood upright and let my eyes go big, the picture of innocence. “I’m so messy!” I trilled in a good approximation of a British accent. “I’ve got cake mixture all over myself!” I moved a little closer to him and started to lick my fingers clean.

  “I—” said Ryan. “Um…”

  Hmm. He didn’t like slutty cook or posh British cook. Maybe...ah! I had it. I stepped right up to him and then turned around so my back was to him. “Untie my apron,” I told him.

  I felt the apron strings pull tight, then loosen as he undid the knot. I lifted it over my head and tossed it on the counter, then turned to him. He drew in a breath as he saw me in just my underwear.

  “Now,” I said. “My name’s...Gwen. And you’ve just caught me selling my body in an alley.” I changed tone, my voice plaintive. “Oh, officer! Don’t arrest me! This is my third time—I’ll go to jail!” I grabbed his shirt. “Please, officer—I’ll do anything!” I slid down his body to my knees, holding his gaze the entire time. My hand slid over the bulging outline of his cock. Hard as rock and just as impressively sized as I’d remembered it from when we shot the bedroom scene.

  But something still wasn’t right. He was staring down at me with obvious lust in his eyes, his breathing fast, but he looked troubled. I unbuckled his belt and started working at the buttons of his fly. “Is this okay, officer?” I said. “Or do you need me to bend over the hood?” I got his fly all the way open and slid my hand inside, smoothing the cotton of his jockey shorts over his cock. He caught his breath, but he still looked uncertain. “Tell me what you want,” I whispered. “We can do anything. I can be anybody.” I slid my hand into his shorts—-

  And suddenly, his hands were under my arms, hauling me up. I staggered a little in my heels as I stood and he had to grab my shoulders to steady me.

  “What? What’s wrong?” I ran a hand through my hair. “Is it the voice? Would you prefer a Russian chick? I do a great Russian chick. I even did it on stage once. I am Svetlana! I vant to go to America!”

  “No!” He staggered back from me, his hands out. “Just...stop!”

  Silence descended for a moment.

  “Is it...me?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Do you not like me?”

  “Yes!” he said. “God, yes!”

  “Then what...I mean, I thought we…” I was flushing, now, and I hated that. If there was one thing that normally didn’t embarrass me, it was sex. “I thought we both wanted this.”

  “We do! I do! But—”

  “Is it something you...need?” I pressed close to him and grabbed his arms. “Ryan, it’s okay. I’m very broad-minded.” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Do you want to tie me up? Do you want me to...beg?”

  “No!”

  I furrowed my brow. Oh! I got it. Big, strong guy, position of authority. It kind of made sense. “How about I tie you up?” I asked. I let me voice grow cold and disdainful. “I’ll let you kiss my shoes, you horrible little worm!”

  “No! Neither of those!”

  I blinked and looked up at him, exasperated. “Then...what? What am I doing wrong? There must be something you like!”

  He shook his head and stared at me. “I like...you. That’s what I want. You.”

  It slowly sunk in. “Oh.”

  He put his hands to my face, stroking my cheeks. “Can you just be you?”

  I thought my stomach had dropped through the floor. Me? Because I knew he didn’t mean Jasmine. He meant Emma. He meant the me he’d seen through to, underneath my disguise. It was just what he’d asked for, back in his apartment.

  Emma never had sex. Sex was a Jasmine thing. Jasmine was sex. I’d created her when I’d first arrived in New York and she’d been there ever since, protecting me, insulating me from men and their base desires. That’s why I’d slipped back into Jasmine tonight. I’d told myself it was because she was the expert, because Ryan deserved the Full Jasmine Experience. But now I realized it wasn’t that at all. I’d slipped back into Jasmine to protect myself. Sex through Jasmine was safe because it wasn’t real.

  And because it wasn’t real, I never really felt anything. Pleasure, sure. But not the deep emotional connection other people had. That was what he wanted. Real sex, like two people in love should have.

  I wasn’t sure if I could still do that. Emma hadn’t had sex in over three years. And the last sexual contact she’d had was—

  I took a deep, shuddering breath. I could feel Jasmine falling away from me, Emma rising to the surface. Scared. Timid. But ready. She wanted this.

  I wanted this.

  “O—Okay,” I stammered.

  He rubbed his thumb across my cheek. “Are you sure?”

  A deep, warm certainty filled me. All the time I’d wanted him, all those Ryan Moments. It hadn’t been Jasmine. It had been Emma. And I wanted him now, more than I could say.

  “We don’t do this until you’re ready,” he told me. I could tell he understood. He didn’t know the full story, of course, but he’d realized that the Full Jasmine Experience was something I’d created to shield myself. And that was something I hadn’t even realized, until right then. He knew me better than I knew myself.

  “I’m ready,” I whispered. And I was. I could feel my body shifting gears and, under Emma’s control, everything felt strange and unfamiliar...and good. I glanced down at myself in wonder. My boobs, seconds before, had been just...things. Seduction objects. Things I could jiggle and thrust out and tease men with and, yes, get pleasure from. Now they were...me. Real and alive and throbbing.

  I was waking up in my own body, after three long years. And that body was aching for his touch.

  I tilted my head up toward his and he moved instinctively down to me. I only closed my eyes at the last second and I nearly melted when I saw the look he was giving me. Deep, scorching lust...and absolute love. He’d meant what he said. He hadn’t wanted Jasmine. He’d wanted...me.

  And then our lips were meeting and it wasn’t like any of the times before. For the first time, there was nothing between us, nothing separating my soul from his. Every br
ush of his lips on mine sent crackling arcs of fire straight down to my core and every second we stayed connected made them build and build. I didn’t want to breathe. I couldn’t stop. I could feel every cell in my body coming to life, every square inch of my skin suddenly aching with need. I was locked in, addicted to him.

  Our lips were apart but our tongues hadn’t even come into play, yet. We were too busy tasting each other, breathlessly wanting more, more, both of us getting drunk on the feel of the other one. It was like no kiss I’d ever known, like being joined to a person on an utterly different level. Was this what I’d been missing, all these years? I’d only kissed—only fucked—through some other, artificial person. This was real.

  We didn’t break the kiss until I was weak and heady from the lack of air. I looked up at him and just let myself hang there, clinging onto his shoulders. He took my weight easily, sliding his hands around my waist to hold me up. We stared at each other and it was almost as if we were meeting for the first time. He was seeing me exposed and vulnerable, without any of my defenses, without any of my fake confidence. Just me. And he said, “God, I want you. You. Just like this.”

  I pressed myself to him, molding my body to his. My groin pressed hard against his thigh and then brushed the throbbing heat of his cock. I could feel how hot I was, too, beneath the thin fabric of my panties, the two of us separated by just a few millimeters.

  I started to run my hands over his body, pressing hard, smoothing them over the hard muscles of his back, the swells of his biceps. Just touching him, even through his shirt, made me breathe fast, every contact between my palms and his unyielding flesh making my heart race faster. My face was flushed and my mouth was open. I realized I was panting. I wanted to trace every angle of him, every line.

  His jeans were already gaping open. I pushed them the rest of the way down and then, as he kicked off the tangle of fabric and shoes, I went to work on his shirt. He’d already ditched his jacket in the living room, so all I had to do was make my way down the buttons and that glorious, strong chest would be mine. But my fingers couldn’t move fast enough, clumsy, and shaking in my excitement. By the time I reached the last few, I was almost ripping them off their threads.