Coming Soon

by Christy Gissendaner

  I picked up the script and searched for the scene we’d been working on before the pizza delivery guy had arrived with our large supremes. “Let’s go over this again.”

  Mark didn’t reach for his script. Apparently the guy had a photographic memory or something.

  Lucky bastard.

  “But Kristen, I can’t give you extra credit. It wouldn’t be fair to the other students,” Mark recited with the appropriately stern tone needed for the scene.

  I twirled a piece of hair around my finger and fluttered my lashes. “Please, Professor Livingston! I’ll lose my scholarship if I don’t pass this class.”

  Mark inched closer and stilled my hand. “Maybe we can work something out.”

  I held my breath as he linked our fingers and brought my knuckles to his mouth. He whispered a kiss over the back of my hand and lowered it to his lap. “Let’s see how you do with basic male anatomy.”

  My fingers brushed his…holy shit!...erection, and I jerked away as if burned. “Ah!”

  Mark chuckled. “You’ll touch more of me when we film, sweetheart.”

  I brushed my hair back and struggled for composure. “I know. I’m just nervous.”

  Nervous? More like scared shitless. I couldn’t get enough oxygen to my brain.

  I hazarded a glance at his crotch and gaped. He was freaking huge. Not huge as I’m-a-virgin-so-all-dicks-look-big-to-me but as in rip-you-a-new-one enormous.

  “I…uh…need to go to the bathroom.” I skedaddled out of the room like my heels were on fire, locked myself in, and did my best not to freak out.

  I paced the tiny room, back and forth, until my pulse stopped racing, and I finally caught my breath.

  Holy crap.

  It was bad enough losing my virginity on camera. The fear I’d be torn in two while doing so made it even worse.

  “Cara?” Jase’s voice followed the soft knock on the door. “Are you okay?”

  Hell no, I wasn’t. I flipped the lock and cracked open the door. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Jase shouldered his way into the room, locking us in together. I retreated to the sink, placed my butt against the edge and watched him. “What?”

  A stony expression met me. “You tell me. Why did you freak out?”

  “I didn’t.” I faked a cough and pounded on my chest. “Indigestion.”

  “Bullshit, Cara.” Jase stood close enough for our toes to touch. “Something spooked you.”

  His overprotection tired me even though he meant well. I pointed at my chest. “Big girl, remember?”

  He flicked the tip of my nose, a move so typically Jase it made me think everything could be right between us again. “How can I forget? You remind me every chance you get.”

  I glanced toward the shut door. “I should get back to Mark.”

  Jase shook his head. “He’s gone.”

  I gaped at him. “What do you mean, gone?”

  “He left.” Jase bumped my hip. “It’s just us.”

  I crossed my arms, all too aware we were in a confined space. “What did you do?”

  “Me?” Jase rolled his eyes. “You bolted like a scalded cat. What was I supposed to do? I told him you needed a little time. I’m glad you freaked though. I hated seeing his hands on you.”

  Now it was time for me to roll my eyes. “Like it bothers you.”

  “It does.” He crept closer still. His hands bracketed my hips, holding me captive against the sink. “Everything about you bothers me.”

  I swallowed hard. It was tough to hold his gaze. “What are you doing?”

  He lifted his hand and cupped my cheek. “Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

  He bent his head and kissed me.

  Jase Whitmore, my best friend for years, was kissing me.

  And it was perfect.

  He slid his lips over mine oh-so-seductively. I gripped the counter’s edge and came up on my tiptoes to press my mouth closer. I’d never dreamed he would kiss me. Not in a million years. I’d hoped, of course, but I’d never thought he would take the final step. But he had, and so much more.

  My toes curled when he slipped his tongue inside my mouth and tangled with mine. I’d never liked French kissing, but Jase made me change my mind. I’d die a happy girl if he kissed me every day for the rest of my life.

  He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against mine. “Shit, what am I doing?”

  “You were kissing me.” And I liked it. I liked it a hell of a lot. “Why did you stop?”

  “Why did I stop?” Jase looked like he’d eaten a sour grape. “You’re playing with fire again, tempting me. Don’t you remember what I told you?”

  I held his gaze, clear and direct. “You use women for sex. Duly noted.”

  “It’s not just that.” Jase took a step away from me. “It’s like an addiction. I always have to have…more.”

  “More?” I continued to hold my grip on the counter, but it wouldn’t take much for me to throw my arms around him and beg him to kiss me again.

  “Yes. More.” His eyes darkened to a stormy emerald. “Control. Dominance. Complete submission.”

  “Like…whips and stuff?” My voice cracked on the last word.

  He nodded as if he’d decided and stepped forward to trap me once more. He gripped my hips and held me still. “Not just in bed. It’s more than sex. I own the women I take as lovers, body and soul. You’re not like them. You don’t submit.”

  “I…I don’t?”

  All my life I’d faded into the background and allowed others to walk all over me, first Jackie and then my uncle. I’d never thought of myself as anything but submissive, yet here was Jase saying I’d never surrender.

  “No.” He lowered his head as if he would kiss me again, but changed direction at the last moment. “I care too much about you. You’d break me.”

  “And that would be a bad thing?”

  He nodded. “A very bad thing.”

  On one hand, it was good he cared so much. On the other, it really sucked. Why couldn’t anything in life be simple?

  I licked my lips, tasting the essence of him, and forged ahead. “So you’re like a dominant?”

  I recalled some of the romance novels my mom had loved, the dark, forbidden sex-filled stories she’d finally allowed me to read when I turned sixteen.

  Jase’s gaze was dark, impenetrable. “I don’t apply labels to what I am. This isn’t a fairytale where the tortured hero rescues the princess. I’m not capable of giving you what you deserve.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m sick and tired of people thinking they know what’s good for me. God, Jase! I’m filming porn in six days. I’m good enough to be fucked on camera, but not in real life. Is that it?”

  He still gripped my hips, but only his fingers touched me. “I’ve hidden this part of me from you for a long time. It was safer.”

  “How long?” I shoved his wrists and broke free of his grasp. “How long have you been a sadist behind my back?”

  “A sadist. Really?” He leaned against the opposite wall and tucked his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans. The frayed hem of his T-shirt showed the barest strip of tanned skin and the beginnings of his happy trail.

  I jerked my wandering gaze – and mind – away from his anatomy and focused on his face. “Yes, really. I deserve to know.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose between his middle finger and thumb. “You don’t want to hear this.”

  “Yes, I damned well do.” I wrapped my arms around my middle and stared at him, daring him to give me something, anything, to make me understand.

  “Come on. I’m not doing this in a bathroom.” He took my hand and led me back to the living room. “Sit.”

  I hesitated long enough to let him know I was miffed at his ordering me about, but did as he commanded nevertheless. I crossed my legs and waited; grateful I’d had the foresight to put on my jeans instead of leaving on the dress I’d worn to lunch. “Well?”

  He didn�
��t sit beside me. Instead he sat on the coffee table and scooted closer. “I was fourteen—”

  “Fourteen?” I interrupted. “Are you kidding me?”

  He gave me a hard stare. “Do you want to learn about me or not?”

  I huffed and swiped at the strands of hair falling over my eyes. “I’m sorry. Continue.”

  He spread his legs and leaned forward to clasp his hands between his splayed thighs. He stared at the rug beneath his feet and his jaw clenched. The struggle for control was evident in the taut way he held his shoulders and his whitened knuckles.

  My concern vied with curiosity. What was he about to tell me?

  “My first girlfriend, Becky. Her mother took a liking to me.”

  I widened my eyes, too surprised to do more than squeak. “Mrs. Baxter?”

  “Yeah.” Jase scratched his neck and a faint flush covered his cheekbones. “I’d stopped by after finishing my paper route to see Becky, but she wasn’t there. Her mother answered the door in nothing but a robe.”

  Memory supplied me with the image of Becky’s mother, tall and slim with peroxide blonde hair. “I guess I can see where this is going. What fourteen-year-old wouldn’t go for her?”

  Jase glanced up. The haunted expression in his eyes stopped me cold. “I didn’t want to do it, but she threatened to tell Becky I’d made a play for her, so I followed her up to her room. She was into some really messed-up shit, like being slapped around. At first, I hated it, but when she introduced me to restraints, it was like coming home. This won’t make any sense to you, but once I tied her down, I had the control. You don’t understand what it’s like. All my life I’d bowed to my family’s wishes, to the church’s. I wasn’t allowed to be who I wanted to be.”

  I acknowledged his parents were controlling, but I’d never guessed it would led to something sinister. “And you wanted to be a dominant?”

  “It’s not something you chose, Cara. Events shaped me into the person I am. Even if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Baxter, I would’ve discovered it soon enough. Sex didn’t appease me. I’ve always needed more.”

  “So you tie girls up, and then what?”

  He tunneled his fingers through his curls. “I fuck them. Hard. I become someone else, someone you wouldn’t recognize.”

  “I’m not so sure I recognize you now,” I whispered.

  He caught my hand and held it between his. “I’m still the same person I always was. I’ll always be your friend. You never have to be scared of me.”

  “Does your family know?” I wet my lips and continued. “About your…lifestyle?”

  “Jackie does. No one else.”

  I choked on air. “Jackie?”

  He had the grace to look embarrassed. “She walked in on me once. It was kinda hard to hide what we were doing.”

  “How old were you?”

  He shrugged. “Fifteen or so. Jackie had just turned twelve, I believe.”

  I held up a hand. “No more.”

  The last thing I wanted to hear was about his antics with an ex-lover or Jackie discovered something so private about him, but never told me. We’d been friends then. How had she kept something like that from me?

  At that age, we’d shared everything. Or so I’d thought.

  “Cara—”

  Nausea filled my stomach. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

  “Now you understand why I didn’t tell you. Even now, you can’t stand to look at me.”

  I couldn’t but not for the reason he believed. I hated all the girls before me and all the ones that would come after I was gone. Being restrained terrified me, for obvious reasons. To give up control, to allow someone to purposefully hurt me, struck a painful chord. I was too much like my father, content to fade into the background and let my partner be the shining star. Would my nature overcome my sanity too?

  I stood, and Jase did the same. Once, I would’ve willingly stepped into his embrace. Now I only stared and prayed a shred of common sense remained in me. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

  Worry lingered on his face. “Don’t be scared of me.”

  “I’m…I’m not.” Not really. Disappointed maybe. But not scared.

  I wanted to learn more about his lifestyle. Did he use toys? Did he have a play room?

  Duh, of course he didn’t. I lived with him. I’d know if there was a secret room hidden somewhere. I’d even been in his bedroom. Nothing had seemed out of the way. A few framed prints, his collection of baseball hats, and sports memorabilia. No closet full of ropes and harnesses.

  So where did he keep those items? I was curious, but didn’t dare ask.

  “Do you want me to run lines with you?” He turned and picked up the script.

  Laughter escaped me, ending in a snort. “Like I performed so stellar the first go round.”

  Jase flipped through the pages. “Maybe it’ll be easier with me than with Mark. I won’t make you nervous.”

  I doubted it, but I needed the practice. “Okay. Sure.”

  I settled onto the couch, curling my legs beneath me and balancing the script on my knees. “Let’s pick up with scene two.”

  Jase flipped another page and claimed the opposite end of the couch. “Back for more extra credit, Kristen?”

  I scanned the lines quickly, cursing when I realized I’d chosen the scene where the characters kiss for the first time. “Um…I left my notebook.”

  Jase used the script as the pretend notebook. “Come and get it.”

  I leaned forward to snatch it, but Jase held onto it like the script demanded. “Not so fast. I want to know how much of our study session you retained yesterday. Time for a pop quiz.”

  Jase wrapped his fingers around my wrist and tugged. I landed sprawled in his lap. There was no desk at my back for me to balance on, like there would be during filming, so my full weight pressed against his thighs. Denim shielded me, but the alignment of our lower bodies flushed me with heat.

  Jase trailed his fingers down my throat and across my shoulders. “Name the bone here.”

  “Clavicle,” I whispered.

  He tickled his fingers down my breast and cupped it. “And the ducts located here?”

  “Lactiferous,” I answered.

  He moved higher, pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “And here?”

  I sucked in a breath. That wasn’t in the script! I reached for my sheets, but Jase held me locked in place. His dark gaze moved across my face while his fingers continued to toy with the aching point of my breast. “Here, Cara.”

  “Nipple,” I breathed out.

  He licked his lower lip. “Sometimes acting calls for spontaneity. The best scenes are the ones which occur without prompting. Learn to go with the flow and your acting will be less stilted.”

  “My acting’s stilted?” Of course it was, but I couldn’t think with him touching me.

  Jase’s gaze dropped, lingering on breasts. “Mark is an expert ad libber. Expect the unexpected with him.”

  Expect the unexpected. A more appropriate phrase had never been spoken.

  I focused on his mouth, still damp from the lick of his tongue across it. “Am I allowed to ad lib too?”

  Jase tensed. “Of course.”

  I lowered my head and put my lips next to his. “So I could kiss him?”

  I was scared out of my wits, but I held still and waited for his answer.

  “Yes.” Jase’s voice cracked.

  I whispered my lips across his before moving to his ear. “And this?”

  The scent of his shampoo teased my nostrils, spicy and rich.

  “Jesus,” Jase muttered. He dropped his hands to my hips and held tight.

  “Am I allowed to do this?” I leaned back and ran my palms down his chest. Grasping the hem, I lifted his T-shirt and exposed his washboard abs. I ran my fingers over the delineation of muscles, his skin warm and firm beneath mine.

  “Fuck.” Jase tugged his shirt down and set me aside. “I can’t do this
. I thought I could, but…no, I can’t.”

  Hurt and arousal rose within me. I wanted him. Only him. “Why not?”

  Jase stood over me and glared. “I’ve told you. I don’t know how I can make it any plainer, Cara. I fuck. You keep me tempting me and one day I’m going to break. I’ll hurt you, and it will destroy me. Please, baby. Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “Maybe I want you to.” The familiar urges rose in me. The need to cut. To bleed. “I want you, Jase.”

  “Shit. No, you don’t. You’re mistaking caring for sexual attraction. You’ve been through a lot recently. I refuse to take advantage of you. You’re…you’re the one woman I can’t have.”

  “Why?”

  He growled and shook his head. “Damn it. I want you, all right? You have to know I do. But you’re not strong enough right now. Not for this.”

  I curled into a ball and wrapped my arms around my knees. It was true. I had been through a lot. The only reason I was still sane was because he’d been my friend. “Just go.”

  “Cara.”

  I lifted my head and screamed, “Get out!”

  He hesitated, but finally grabbed his jacket and left, leaving me alone in his apartment.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning I felt like shit. I’d made a fool of myself in front of Mark and to make matters worse, I’d thrown myself at Jase.

  He’d already left, so I showered and dressed in my frayed jeans and green sweater. I borrowed a knit cap from Jase, not wanting to deal with the mess the humidity had made of my hair, and spent the morning walking in a nearby park. It was Sunday and drizzling, so I had the walking trail to myself.

  Brown leaves crunched beneath my boots as I trod the graveled path over and over again. It was cold, but not enough for me to need a coat. A good thing since I still didn’t own one. I added it to the ever-growing list of items I needed to buy.

  A text came through, and I pulled my phone out of my pocket to glance at the message. Jase, asking where I was. I typed a response and continued walking.

  Clouds darkened the sky and the breeze picked up. The drizzle would become rain soon, but I bent my head against the chill and made another lap around the pond decorating the center of the park.