Playing With Her Heart (22 page)

“Did you? Want that?”

I shake my head. “No.
Theater is in my blood. My dad was a theater history professor. Mom
was a choreographer, and there was never any question about what I
wanted to do.” Then I shift back to the story. “The worst part,
though, was having to tell my younger sister. It was only us then.
It’s only us now.”

“You took care of
your sister?”

I nod. “I delayed
college for a year to stay home with her, get her through the rest of
high school.”

“You’re a good
brother,” she says in a kind voice, and squeezes my hand tight.

“Thank you for saying
that. What about you? You said you have two brothers?”

“My brother Jay is
working in Europe for a company there. And my oldest brother, Chris,
lives in San Francisco and is this huge video game guy. Hosts his own
TV and Web show about video games, and just started getting serious
with this gal who’s a fashion blogger. He’s actually coming here
soon for work, so I get to see him and to meet her. I can’t wait.”

“You’re close to
him?”

She nods, but then
holds up her hand and moves it back and forth like a seesaw.

“Close, but maybe not
so close?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as I try to understand her.

She chews the inside of
her lip as if she’s considering the question, and it’s
fascinating to see this side of her. To learn more about her. The way
she seems to genuinely connect with people and care about them, but
yet how she can be so guarded too.

“No. I mean…we’re
close,” she offers, but that’s all. Then in a small, fragile
voice, she adds. “Maybe you can meet him.”

All my frustration from
earlier, all my fear vanishes in a second with those words. I don’t
know that I will ever meet her brother, but the fact that she makes
the offer at all is huge for Jill.

“That would be nice,”
I say, and now her eyes have gone glassy as if she’s sad and is
drifting off someplace. But before I can ask what’s wrong, I follow
her gaze back to my hand.

“I’m sorry you have
this scar,” she says as she strokes a finger across the top of my
hand. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. But since you do have
this scar, and you can’t change the past, is it okay if I tell you
I think it’s kinda sexy that you just told me all that? And maybe
because it’s so real. And the scar is this visible reminder of who
you are, and what you went through, and you don’t hide from it. You
own it.”

“I don’t know any
other way to be,” I tell her, because it’s the truth. I might
traffic in illusions, but they all first come from truths. From who
we all are deep down, from what makes us tick. That’s my
stock-in-trade. I take another swallow of my scotch, the ice cubes
clinking against the glass. A waiter passes by bearing small salads
for another couple at a nearby table, but I barely notice them. I put
the glass down, touch her cheek, then thread my fingers through her
hair. “Now it’s my turn to ask you a question.”

Her eyes widen with
worry then she takes a breath as if she’s steeling herself. “Okay,”
she says tentatively.

“Do you remember the
night in the car, the first time I made you come?”

She nearly spits out
her drink. “You cut to the chase.”

“I do. It seemed as
if you were saying it was the first…” I let my voice trail off,
tilting my head to the side to see if she’ll let me get to know
her. Get to see inside her.

She doesn’t answer
right away. Just takes a drink, fiddles with her napkin.

“I want to get to
know you,” I say and run a finger along her arm. “That’s all.”

She looks afraid. She
looks lost. But she parts her lips and sighs. “I’m not a virgin,
but I haven’t been with anyone in a long time,” she says quietly,
as if it’s the first time she’s said that out loud.

I want to reassure her
that whatever her history is, it’s all fine with me. “That’s
okay. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I haven’t been
with anyone since my high school boyfriend. I mean, I kissed a few
guys in college. And please don’t go all protective caveman and get
upset that I’ve kissed people. Because I’m not the Virgin Mary
and don’t want to be treated as such.” She holds up a hand,
dropping her vulnerable self to return to her tough-as-nails one.

“Duly noted.”

“It’s just that…”

“It’s just what?
There’s nothing wrong with that. Unless it’s for a particular
reason?” I ask, carefully, because we’re treading on sensitive
terrain here for her.

She simply shrugs.

“Jill,” I say,
keeping my voice low but steady. I don’t want to scare her. I don’t
want to let on exactly what I’d do to someone who hurt her. But I
need to know. “Did this guy hurt you?”

“No,” she says
quickly, and she looks away from me. She swallows then looks back at
me. “The opposite. I hurt him.”

Her eyes are wet, and
she looks like she’s about to cry, and all my instincts in reading
people’s emotions are turned upside down right now because she’s
so hard to figure out. But I also know she’ll only let me in so far
at a time. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I think that’s all
I can manage for now.”

“Well, whatever it
was, I think you have to forgive yourself for hurting him. I’m sure
even if you did break his heart, or whatever happened, that he’s
managed to move on. I did after Madeline. She’s the reason I didn’t
want to go out with an actress again. We were very serious about each
other, and then she left me in the lurch when her career took off.”

“Would you think it’s
terrible that I’m glad she left you?” Then she moves in and
silences any more conversation with a kiss. I can taste the Belvedere
on her lips, and I can taste her, and it’s the most delirious
sensation in the world to have her here with me. She pulls apart for
a moment. “I know I said I didn’t want anyone to see us kissing,
but I’m just going to hope there’s no one here who knows us
because I’ve been wanting to do that since I walked in the door,”
she says, and it’s one of the first times she’s talked to me like
this. As if she’s shedding all the ways she protects herself. “I’ve
been wanting to do that since my roommate helped me pick out this
dress this afternoon. I’ve been wanting to do that since I thought
about you on the way over in the car, like you wanted me to.”

For a moment I feel as
if the ground is swaying, as if we’re being rocked by unexpected
waves. I thought I could protect myself. I once stupidly thought I
could stay away from her. I even toyed with the idea that I could
keep this strictly physical. Those days are long gone. The more I get
to know her, the deeper I fall. She is the most complicated and sexy
and beautiful and vulnerable woman I’ve ever met. Maybe she’s
hurt someone in the past, and maybe I’m next in line, but there’s
a part of me that is willing to sign up for it because it’s
impossible to stay away from her.

Especially when she
gives me a very sexy grin. “Do you want to know what I’m wearing
under this dress?”

“Now that you mention
it, I think I’d like to find out.” I slide my hand below the hem
of the dress, feeling the soft naked skin of her legs under my
calloused fingers. Then I move my hand to the underside of her thigh,
taking my time as I explore, enjoying her invitation to find out what
she has in store for me. I watch the expression on her face change as
she hitches in her breath and parts her legs the slightest bit. She
makes an audible gasp when I reach that delicious part on a woman’s
body when her leg meets her ass. Then I cup her between her legs, and
she’s naked against my hand, her body already hot and wet.

“Now you’ll really
see why I picked this table,” I tell her.

Jill

I wonder if he knows
I’ve shared more with him than with anyone else. That I give him
more glimpses than anyone before. Maybe it’s because he’s asked.
Maybe it’s because sometimes I feel as if he can see inside me, as
if he senses things about me, as if he knows that there’s more than
what I let on. I’ve kept the past with Aaron hidden—literally
hidden, under lock and key—but he alone seems to be able to see
through all my defenses, all the ways I’ve built up this persona,
and he can gently pull back the curtain, bit by bit, in a way that
doesn’t rip me apart. Because he’s so patently open with me.

No faking, no
pretending. Only truth.

Which makes me wonder
if that’s why my body responds like it belongs to him. If there’s
more to this thing between us than just his amazing hands, or the way
he kisses me both rough and tender, or how he talks dirty in one
moment and then romantic the next. If I’m feeling things for him
that go beyond these sensations that send me to another world with
him.

But right now, I let go
of all those questions because he’s learning that I wore nothing
for him, so he could do just this, so he could touch me under the
table.

Then he removes his
hand from under my dress and shoots me a mischievous grin.

“Um, hello,” I say
playfully. “Maybe you could put your hand back there. Not sure if
you got the memo, but I kinda want you.”

“I know,” he says,
leaning back against the gray leather and reaching for his scotch.
“And I want something too. I want to know what you look like when
you make yourself come.”

A shiver runs through
me. Is there anything this man can say that won’t make my body high
on him? “You’re going to torture me.”

“And you’re going
to torture me. But I know you like to touch yourself. And I bet you
can do it quietly too.”

“Why do you say
that?”

He leans into me,
twines his fingers into my hair once more, and I melt into his touch.
“Because you have a roommate. Because you told me you read erotic
novels. Because I bet you’ve learned how to make yourself come
quietly.”

My breath stills, and
heat spreads through my body. “How do you do that? How do you just
know things about me?”

“Because it’s my
job to understand people and emotions, and secrets, and the things we
do in the dark and the things we tell others and don’t tell others.
That’s why I do what I do. And I know you’re absolutely turned on
right now.”

“How do you know?”
I ask in a challenging voice, even though I’m sure I’m an open
book.

He brushes my hair away
from my shoulder, trails his tongue from my collarbone to my earlobe.
“Because your cheeks have this pink glow when you get turned on and
your eyes go all hazy, and you part your lips, and I know it means
you’re aching for me to touch you,” he says, and I can’t help
myself. I breathe harder and gasp out, “Oh God.” Neither one of
us is touching me right now, but I can feel how hot I’m getting
between my legs, how I’m aching for pressure, for touch, for
release. “Touch yourself,” he commands. “I want you to come
from your own hand.”

I nod, close my eyes,
and slip my hand under my dress until my fingers reach my wetness.

“Tell me how wet you
are now.”

“More than I’ve
ever been,” I say as a low moan escapes my lips.

He brings my face
closer to his, so he’s wrapped an arm around me, as if he’s
shielding me from anyone who might see or hear. “And how does it
feel to have your fingers on your clit while I’m right here next to
you, and I can smell how turned on you are?”

“Oh God,” I gasp,
and he’s sending me to another plane of pleasure already with the
way he strips me bare. I am burning all over, my whole body is lit up
from how he talks to me. “I’m so turned on by you.”

“And have you
masturbated to me fucking you?”

“Yes,” I say, as
sparks of pleasure careen through my body with every dirty word from
his mouth.

“And how do I do it?”

“Any way. You do it
any and every way.”

“Do I fuck you from
behind? With you bent over the bed?”

“Yes.”

“And do I fuck you up
against the wall, with your legs wrapped around me?”

“Yes.”

“And do I fuck you on
a table?”

“Yes.”

“And are you on all
fours, so I can run my hand down your gorgeous back before I slide
into you and you beg me to take you harder?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I
answer in heavy pants, my breathing growing wildly erratic as
electric heat ripples through my veins.

“And do you take me
in your mouth?”

“God yes. I want to
do that to you. I want you to let me,” I whisper to him in a
hungry, needy voice, because he’s driving me absolutely insane and
to the far edge of pleasure. I’m an expert at self-love, this is my
specialty, this is what I do, but the way he talks to me as I touch
myself makes it seem as if he’s the one doing it.

He traces my top lip
with his finger. “You think you’d like having my cock in your
mouth?”

“Yes. I want to. I
want to taste you,” I say, then he slips his finger into my mouth
and I close my lips around it.

“You’re so close
now to coming, aren’t you?”

I breathe out a
strangled yes, as he takes his finger away.

“I don’t want
anyone else to hear you,” he says in a firm voice. “You’re so
loud when you come. Do you have any idea how loud you are?”

“I know I’m loud,”
I say, in between muffled moans against his skin.

“And I love it. I
love it when you can’t hold back. And when you moan, and scream and
grab my hair hard. But you need to be quiet right now. Do you know
why?”

“Why?” I manage to
ask, as I touch myself more.

“Because no one else
can know what you sound like coming. I don’t want anyone in this
restaurant to hear you. I don’t want anyone else to know how
fucking sexy you sound when you come. I want you to be quiet, and
whenever you want to scream out, you need to moan in my ear, so I’m
the only one who can hear you. The noises you make are only for me.”