The Critic (9 page)

I let out a silent breath. “Yeah.” I couldn’t bring myself to say any more. The words we’d had before he left were still making my head spin.

“I’m right around the corner. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” His voice was quiet and very different from the tone he’d used in my apartment. He was no longer the gruff, pompous man. He sounded sweet and almost remorseful, but that could have just been wishful thinking on my part.

“Fine.” I clicked the phone off and grabbed his backpack. I checked my hair in the mirror next to my door and fixed the errant strands. When I opened the door, he was standing in the hall with his hand in the air, ready to knock. “I heard you coming.”

He looked at me with a sad expression.

“Here you go.” I shoved his bag at his chest. “Bye.” As I went to close the door, he stopped it with his free hand.

“Can we talk?” His face was impassive and calm. Those damn blue eyes seemed to see through me.

The defeat I felt after every conversation with him drained me; I didn’t know if I wanted to do it again. Yes, my heart beat differently for him, but I didn’t want it to. My entire body felt as if it could collapse into a puddle. “Really, what more is there to talk about?” I leaned my head on the edge of the opened door, and a sigh may have escaped me.

“Let me in,” he appealed, his voice not much louder than a whisper. He dropped his head before lifting his gaze to mine again. “Please, Andrea.”

I moved out of the doorway and let him pass. He stood in front of my couch, set his bag down, and picked up the copy of the
Edge.
He held it and forcibly straightened his arm. “Do you see this?” His face softened, which didn’t match his stern voice.

“Of course.” I tried to get the paper out of his hand, but he held it above his head.

“This . . . this . . .” He shook the paper. “This review does not define you. Do you understand me?” His voice grew louder as I became more annoyed.

“Yeah, whatever. I want it back.” I held out my hand and kept my feet planted on my carpet. “Seriously, Mr. Chambers, give it to me!”

“What the fuck is this ‘Mr. Chambers’ shit? You know, if you took some of the emotion you’re feeling right now and put it in your work, you’d be a brilliant actress.”

“Fuck you and your emotional brilliance. Give me my goddamn paper!” I felt my blood pressure spike and prayed I didn’t erupt like a volcano.

His eyes darted around the room until he found my script. He put the newspaper under his arm and flipped through the script as if he was looking for something specific. He stopped flipping pages and held it out to me. “Read that.”

“Go to hell.” I crossed my arms to prevent them from shaking.

“Read it!”

“No!”

He shoved it closer to me, making the paper graze my chest, and said in the sternest voice I’d heard since my father’s, “Yes.”

I grabbed it and looked at the scene he’d selected. Perfect—the one he hated.
I think.
Fuck, he hated everything.

“Andrea!” His eyes narrowed.

His voice grated on my last nerve. “Where?”

“From the top.”

My blood boiled. Why should I go along with this? I closed the script and tossed it at him; I didn’t need to read something I’d memorized weeks ago. He caught it against his chest, making the newspaper fall.

I shook my arms and tried to get into character. I closed my eyes and took a cleansing breath. The scene was quiet and heartfelt. Katie had been afraid Jake had decided to move on, and she didn’t want to lose him. I silently said to myself,
“
Don’t blow this, Andi.”

With a quiet voice, I said, “Jake, it’s been so many years.” I walked forward as the blocking in my script dictated. I looked at Bentley’s eyes then the paper on the ground. “What makes you think that I’m available, that I still want you?”

Bentley read Jake’s line, making my eyes go wide.

“You’re the only one for me.” I placed my hand on his chest as the script dictated. “Can’t you feel that?”

He placed his hand over mine, which Justin never did. Bentley’s heart pounded strong and fast. My palm twitched.

“What are you doing, Bentley?” I looked into his eyes, trying to figure out his plan. Feeling his heartbeat did something unexpected to me. It was hard to pinpoint the emotion flowing through my body, but the only thing I could do was ignore it. No way could I let myself get wrapped up in him.

“Keep going.” His voice was demanding, bringing me back to despising him.

My insides were on fire. Through a tense jaw, I said, “Yes, Jake, I can, but that doesn’t mean anything!” I went to pull my hand away, and he held it there.

He shoved the newspaper with his foot, reminding me what an ass he was. Which was why I needed to crush the odd feelings growing inside me.

“It means everything.” His voice tempered as if he were speaking as himself and not Jake.

I wouldn’t fall for that. “It means nothing!” I ripped my hand away from his muscular chest.

“Kiss me.”

“No!” I turned away from him.

“Katie, kiss me now.” He grabbed the tops of my arms and spun me to face him. “Kiss me, dammit. Now!” That line was all his.

“I can’t, and I won’t.” If he could ad lib, so could I.

He stared at me. “I said kiss me.”

His voice was serious, and I was torn between feeling distraught and turned on. I should have been upset with myself for wavering, but instead, I decided I was frustrated.

I lunged forward and kissed him as hard as I could. The anger I felt poured out of me as our lips connected. I shoved my tongue in his mouth and pulled on his hair, lowering his face to mine. He grabbed my waist and hoisted me up so my legs wrapped around his hips. His lips went to my neck, and my head dropped back, giving him ample access. He licked from my collarbone to my ear, and his soft beard made me shiver. A groan of pleasure escaped me as my pulse quickened. Before I knew it, my feet were planted on the carpet. My world had tilted or maybe fallen off its axis.

“See the difference?” His voice became calm, making me anything but.

“What the hell was that?” I wiped my lips with the back of my hand to prove that I wasn’t falling for it . . . for him. But I knew I had.

“That was perfect. Bring your feelings out, Andrea. Acting isn’t just getting the words right or evoking whatever feeling you think is on that paper, and you should know that. You need to dig deeper. Let your feelings shine through. If being pissed off at me brings out the emotion I just felt, then take that to the stage. Don’t hold back because you think you might do it wrong or someone else would do it better or that’s what the director wanted. Acting 101: Be yourself and let your emotions shine through. You’ve been so caught up in doing it the right way and not blowing this shot at success that you’ve closed yourself up and done it all wrong.” He picked up his bag and looked at me. “You kiss Justin like that, and you’ll captivate the audience just like you did me. I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night.”

I shut the door as my heart pounded and my mind raced. What the fuck? I’d never wanted to make anyone mine as much as I did that woman. The urge to take Andrea and ravish her body consumed my thoughts. I knew the words that had spewed from my mouth weren’t what she’d wanted to hear, but she needed to hear them. I cursed myself for taking the train to Jersey. I wished I had my car so I could go for a long drive. Instead, I grabbed my cell and called a cab.

Once I was in my room, I grabbed the crystal bottle of scotch and poured a generous drink. I sat on the recliner and thought of her perfectly formed lips and how they’d tasted pressed against mine. They were as soft as a rose petal.

I picked up the program from
Together Again
and looked at her picture. Her eyes came alive as I stared at her, and I willed her entire being to follow suit. I adjusted my cock in my jeans as it pressed against my zipper. Buried deep—that was what I wanted—in her warm, slick pussy. Would she ever let me breach the wall with my name on it that she’d definitely erected? Would she ever allow me to love her and worship her body as I’d dreamt of doing?

My goal had been to prove to her that she exuded passion and to give her the outlet to express it, but I’d never realized that she had done that to me. I was the one who needed the outlet, and she was it. I downed the rest of my drink and headed for the bathroom. The thought of jerking off to her picture was foremost on my mind, but that wouldn’t be enough. So I settled for a cold shower to calm my shit down. I wanted the real deal, not just the image of her face and my palm. I needed to get closer to her, I needed her to trust me, but first and foremost, I needed her to succeed. She had to find herself before I could expect her to give herself to me.

After attempting to rid my thoughts of Andrea, I settled in bed. I grabbed my phone to see if she’d called, but she hadn’t. Not that I’d really expected her to. My hand seemed to have a mind of its own as it typed out a text.

Bentley:
You awake?

I stared at the screen, praying she’d respond. My need to talk to her was overwhelming, as was my fear of scaring her away.

Andi:
No.

Bentley:
Funny.

Andi:
What do you want?

I relaxed a bit knowing I had her attention. All I really wanted was for her to think of me before she went to sleep.

Bentley:
That’s a loaded question.

Andi:
I’m really tired, and I’m not in the mood for games.

Bentley:
What are you in the mood for?

I chuckled, knowing what I was in the mood for and knowing that she was probably rolling her eyes and becoming angrier by the second.

Andi:
Good night, Bentley.

Bentley:
Wait.

Andi:
What do you want?

Bentley:
That kiss.

Andi:
What about it?

Bentley:
Did you like it?

I almost didn’t hit send, but I wanted to know. I wanted her to think of it.

Andi:
It was okay, I guess.

The fuck it was. That kiss had been incredible, and she knew it. She wanted to play? Well, so could I.

Bentley:
That’s what I thought too.

Andi:
Good then we’re on the same page.

Not exactly what I’d wanted her to say, but I hadn’t expected her to give me an inch. Little did she know I wanted to give her a lot more than that.

Andi:
Good night, Bentley.

Bentley:
Sweet dreams, Andrea.

Tomorrow. I’d prove to her that she not only needed me but that she wanted me. She could try to say that when we’d kissed, it hadn’t felt as if we were meant to be, but one day she’d admit it.