Heart Breaker (Break on Through) (2 page)

I ignored my sister, wondering where he was going with this. “Oh really?
Do
tell.”

Jackson’s hands fell on his hips as he looked to the side. He tilted his head back and replied, “Honestly? Kyle’s the shit…salt of the earth to his friends and one of the smartest guys I know.” Then he sighed and shook his head. “But he’s fucked in the head when it comes to women. You want a good time, shake the dust off, he’s your man. Anything else? Fuckin’ run, don’t walk.”

The irony was I used to always say that to be tied down in your twenties was “a waste of youth and good stories for when you’re old”. While Jessica was looking for her happily ever after, trying to find her dark prince in need of her light and love in order to be saved, I was never looking for anything more than the high the next new romance offered, saying that men were my favorite drug, one I used recreationally without getting addicted.

Part of my casual attitude came from the fact that I took my career seriously. I liked remaining flexible, living like a gypsy, being available to take an amazing part at the last minute, if need be. Although lately I had accepted more roles in DC, but who could blame me? The city had a truly inspiring theater scene, one that embraced both the classics and newer, more experimental productions. That said, the last thing I wanted was to be tied down to someone back home if I were to go on a national tour. That was a recipe for disaster—and heartbreak.

“Honestly, I don’t know what I want anymore.” I ran my fingers through my hair and fanned it out behind me. “And until I do, I think hooking up with anyone is probably a bad idea.”

He nodded, told me again it was good I’d come by, grabbed a couple of beers from the bar and went straight over to Lauren on the other side of the room. Jessica gave me a reassuring wink and then went into the kitchen to grab some food, so I turned around and started fixing myself my favorite drink. I certainly needed one after the heavy turn of the last conversation. Who knew badass bikers gave mental health checks at a Super Bowl party? As I was mixing it all together, I suddenly felt the heat from someone behind me.

“Hmm,” drawled a deep, male voice. “Rum, lime juice, pineapple juice, grenadine? Looks like someone’s making an El Presidente. Good choice.”

The voice was smooth, sonorous, like spun silk being rubbed across my bare skin. I slowly turned around and had to crane my head up just to get a full view of him. I was only 5’2” and wearing flats that day, and he was easily 6’1” or 6’2”.

“You always sneak up on a woman like that?” I took a sip of my drink and scanned Golden Boy up and down, finally settling in on his eyes, which were the color of dark bourbon. He also had the longest lashes I’ve ever seen on a man, but there was no questioning the masculine beauty of his face. He had strong features but they weren’t too jagged or hard, with just enough of a sensual roundness to his face, his mouth, to make him approachable. He crooked his head slightly while dragging his perfect teeth across his bottom lip.

In a voice dripping in honeyed heat he replied, “You knew I was coming for you, so don’t pretend I snuck up on you now.”

He was close enough to me that I caught his scent, which was like fresh air, clean linens and spicy soap. Dear Lord, no man has a right to smell this good. Plus he was a wall of strength, with cords of glorious, sinewy muscles running through his arms. Arms that were now caging me in between himself and the wet bar.

“I’ve been watching you ever since you arrived.” He inched even closer, our bodies just a hairsbreadth away from touching. “Thought I’d met all of Lauren’s friends but definitely haven’t seen you before.” Then, just before I was beginning to feel overwhelmed by his proximity, he stepped back and offered me his hand.

“Kyle Masterson. And you are…?” He dragged out the last part as a question, obviously wanting me to share my name.

I gave him my hand, which he grasped quickly, as if I would escape somehow. His palm was warm, dry and smooth. Definitely not typical of Jackson’s friends. This guy had never worked a day in his life with those hands.

“Samantha Lockhart,” I answered. I tried to let go, but he held on, covering my right hand with both of his.

I gave him a questioning look. “Yes, Mr. Masterson?”

His shoulders shook in a silent laugh. “Please, call me Kyle. I insist.”

I loved his voice, all deep, rich tones with just a slight trace of a Southern drawl I couldn’t quite place. I tore my eyes away from his golden amber gaze and glanced down at how his large, warm hands completely enveloped mine, his heat invading my cool skin. I bit my bottom lip, my teeth sinking into the plump flesh. I wanted just a small sting of pain, to keep at bay the lull of his liquid seduction. And while I couldn’t be sure, I thought I heard a low groan coming from him as I ran my tongue along the seam of my lips.

“Can’t deny an admirer some up-close stargazing now, would you?”

My eyebrows knitted together, and Kyle finally released my hand.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

A slow, Cheshire grin spread across his handsome face.

“Saw you last year in
Hamlet
here in town and, before that, a play in New York. It was cool how the audience followed members of the cast around.”

“
Sleep No More
was the production,” I informed him, trying to contain how stunned I was that he knew the last two plays I was in, especially one in New York. “I can’t believe you recognized me from something you saw so long ago. If you’re ever looking to flatter an actor, well, that’s the way to do it.”

“I thought you were amazing in both.” His voice was soft now, and he moved his gorgeous body closer to me while taking my hand again, threading his fingers with mine. For some reason, the simple act felt intimate, even more than a kiss. I didn’t know why, though, and I didn’t feel like analyzing it either.

“If I hadn’t been with a date both times, I would’ve waited for you backstage, insisted on celebrating, taking you out.”

For once in my life, I was speechless, still in awe that he recalled my work. In spite of being a fairly successful, regularly working actor, I mostly did theater work and, therefore, I didn’t get recognized often. I’d done a couple of national commercials, but that was years ago, and when I was recognized, it was because of that work, not my characters on stage. He didn’t seem deterred by my gawking silence.

“I remember watching you, this tiny thing up on that big stage with this mane of beautiful auburn hair, and I wondered how God had managed to put so much power and talent into such a small package. Nothing less than a miracle, I think. Don’t you?”

I finally made a sound, letting something between a laugh and a cackle escape me. Not my most ladylike or seductive moment.

“I think considering myself a modern-day miracle is even beyond an actor’s typical level of narcissism, don’t
you
think, Kyle?”

He offered a silent chuckle and a boyish grin. “A fair point, Ms. Lockhart. Still doesn’t make me believe any less that you’re really something.”

“Did Jackson put you up to this?” I still couldn’t believe he recalled all this without any help. “It’s okay to admit it. I’ll still be flattered you went to the trouble.”

“No ma’am.” He beamed, still harboring just a glint of something, like he was keeping a juicy secret.

“Spill it, Masterson.”

“What?” He feigned innocence.

I tried to suppress a smile, but didn’t say anything. Instead, I just stared him down.

His face broke out into an even wider grin, radiating a playful energy I found quite alluring. He gazed down at me and, after giving him my best flirtatious smirk, I knew he was ready to spill.

“All right, have you ever heard of hyperthymesia?”

I guess my blank face was his answer.

“Right, well it’s the ability to be able to remember every moment of one’s life.”

All of a sudden, I recalled something I had seen on
60 Minutes
not so long ago. “Wait a second,” I interrupted. “Isn’t that the thing that actress Marilu Henner has?”

His face lit up, and he seemed pleased I knew what he was talking about. “Yes! Exactly the same thing!” He paused, pondering something.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he started. “Just not used to someone actually hearing of it. You surprised me, and I’m a man not often surprised by much.”

“I know
exactly
what you mean.”

“Really, how so?”

I paused to consider before I answered. I wanted to make sure I phrased what I wanted to say the right way. “Let’s just say as an actor I study human behavior, like, constantly. If you do it for long enough,
well
enough, you realize after a time that most people are highly predictable. Even in supposedly spontaneous activities, like an improv exercise. Not quite the same as your superpower there, but I can relate on a certain level.”

We both stood silently for a bit, each absorbing what the other had shared. It wasn’t awkward at all, but I suddenly had the need to return to shallower ground.

“So you’ve obviously seen me in action, how about you? It’s obvious you’re not a mechanic or house flipper. What do you do?”

That mischievous spark returned to his eyes. “What makes you think I’m not a grease monkey of some sort?”

Ah, a test. I can roll with that. Putting my hand to my chin, I cocked my head to the side in a mock gesture of deep study. “Well, in spite of the well-worn duds, your hands are callus-free and there’s no residual grease under your fingernails. You’re sporting a hundred-dollar-plus haircut and you carry yourself like a man who spent his youth being told to sit up straight. Definitely not nouveau riche but not blue-blood money either. Somewhere in between.”

Kyle looked me up and down, slowly, all the while unconsciously running his tongue across his full, delectable bottom lip as he took in a deep breath. “And all that spells out what to you, gorgeous?”

I offered my best impish grin and gazed up at him. I was having fun here, one player entertaining the other. “Well, I can rule out government work, politics, lobbying.”

“Because…?” he drawled out in a question.

“Because while you’re clean-cut, you’re not totally uptight. And someone like that wouldn’t count a bunch of bikers as his best friends. Not enough political capital in that.”

“Maybe I’m the exception to the rule?” he teased.

I took a deep drink of my cocktail, really liking how the rum coursed through me, along with the pleasant buzz from our talk.

“Plus, your watch is a high-end one, good quality without being too flashy. And it’s vintage, probably a gift for your graduation from your dad or granddad.”

“Grandfather,” he answered. He was still holding one of my hands and started running his thumb across the underside of my wrist, back and forth. Between his heated stare and his deliberate, feather-light touch, I felt I was slowly being seduced by a master, in spite of me doing all the talking.

“Seems you see a lot, Samantha. Observing people in order to create believable characters.”

Suddenly, everyone in the room cheered and screamed in unison. The Washington Redskins had scored their first touchdown. Kyle grimaced and before I had a chance to process his mood, he gave my hand a squeeze and started leading me to another room.

“Where are we going?” I planted my feet, resisting his pull.

“Come with me. It’s too noisy out here and I’m really enjoying talking to you.” Sensing my resistance, he added, “I promise I won’t bite unless you want me to.” He gave me his best player smile as he led me into Lauren’s undisturbed office. Like a fool I allowed myself to follow his pull before I realized that we were, most likely, in a space she didn’t want guests. Kyle closed the door behind us and turned toward me, our fingers still interlaced and clasped together.

“But why go all the way back here?” Feeling the heat and need radiating off his body like magnetic waves, I already knew the answer, but I was still thrown off by his boldness. I had known him a total of a few minutes and already he was dragging me off into a dark room. And want to know the irony of it? I wanted to be there with him in the worst way. I wanted to taste his golden tan skin with my tongue and feel his smooth hands tease and taunt my body. My sex drive had been a distant memory the past seven months and now suddenly, with Kyle’s intoxicating scent, smoldering eyes and compelling conversation, I was feeling again.

He pulled me to him and wrapped one of his arms around my waist while the other came up to cradle my face in his hand. His touch seared through me, making my skin flicker hot, awakening my body from a numb slumber.

“You know, Samantha, I have my own way of figuring someone out. Want to know what it is?”

I nodded dumbly, completely caught up in the moment. In him.

He gazed at my face, and then focusing on my mouth, Kyle leaned in, opening to me as I opened to him, his tongue sliding in and warming my mouth. His lips pressed into mine, and what started out as a tentative exploration grew more frenzied and hungry. I gasped at the delicious contact, the rush of sensation sparking electricity through me. I crushed myself against his lean body, my nipples aching to feel that tongue of his tease them erect. I moaned into his mouth, the sound vibrating through both our bodies. He broke away from the kiss, our chests heaving, taking in air as if we had been submerged deep underwater.

“Fuck, I like that, like that you’re moaning for me already.”

He leaned in again, ready to taste and take even more. His thick and long cock pressed hard against my aching belly and my pussy contracted just at the thought of how he would feel sliding into me. Then I felt myself being propelled backward, my ass hitting the wall. He must have anticipated the effect of his action because he cradled the back of my head, his hand absorbing the impact. Instead of feeling turned on by his orchestration, however, I suddenly became overwhelmed, almost claustrophobic. This man was too smooth, too practiced in the art of seduction. There were no bumbled words or tripped-over feet. He was like a consummate musician but I was an instrument about to be played. I was out of tune, my insides strung too loose one moment, then too tight the next.