Page List


Font:  

The harder I tried to remember, the blurrier and grainier the memory became.

“He’d spend so long brushing it, getting it just perfect,” I said. “I don’t know if it was because he liked doing it, or he didn’t want it to be so obvious I was a girl without a mother.” I shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter, since I quickly became a girl without a father too.” I paused.

Yet the night the police came to the door, and the teenager babysitting me broke down in tears—that was in stark detail.

“An orphan, and I didn’t have any extended family. My mother had no one and my father’s parents had died young,” I continued. “They put me into foster care. I got a home quickly. They were good actors, my foster parents, maybe they’re where I got my skill from. Because they looked nice, kind. Loving. They played their part perfectly, to everyone but me. I don’t know if they were just evil or if I wasn’t what they expected.”

I didn’t look up at Duke, as I wasn’t brave enough for that. So I looked down instead.

“Whatever it was, they made it clear their love was only for show and the paycheck. They never hit me or anything. They just liked to lock me away for hours, not buy me clothes—not that they had much money anyway—so I’d always go to school wearing things too small. Kids teased me, of course. It didn’t bother me. Or at least I acted like I didn’t care. I got so good that I fooled myself. They wouldn’t feed me much either. So it was a good thing I didn’t grow much so my clothes weren’t comical on me. And it prepared me for a lifetime of hunger.”

I laughed. “I’ve always thought it’s ironic, that I thought freedom and riches meant a full stomach, as no one controlled what I ate. But the riches came, and since then, I’ve never known a truly full stomach. Not that it matters. I’m sure it sounds ridiculous. The movie star complaining. I could eat, if I really wanted to. But I will say, I’m no longer quite as good at convincing myself I don’t care what people think of me.”

Only after all the words came out, the look on Duke’s face penetrated, did I realize just how much I’d spilled. Everything. My whole fucking soul on a platter for him to devour. To own.

“What I’m trying to say is, you’re lucky,” I said, trying to recover, trying to put a chill in my voice. “I know how annoying it is for people to point that out when you’re feeling pissed off. But it’s true. Your parents adore you, Duke. And I know that you don’t think they know the real you, the one that changed into a macho-man, but they see it. Because they’re your family. And, because you’re not that great of an actor.” I’d meant to end that last bit on a joke. A tease. Something light to distract from how unintentionally heavy I’d gotten.

From the look on Duke’s face, it hadn’t worked.

Fuck.

I’d been so sure that I’d do anything to get that blank dislike from his gaze, to be something more to him. Be careful what you wished for, because I didn’t like this. I hated how much I loved Duke looking at me like I was…somebody.

I tried to move. “I—”

No sooner than I had tried to make my escape, his hands were stopping me, yanking me, smashing my mouth to his. I was so shocked I didn’t do much at first. I let him control the kiss, mostly because he wasn’t letting me do anything but follow his lead. But then I gained coherence. Then hunger crawled up my throat. Then I kissed him back, gained control of my own.

The kiss was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I knew I’d acted to make a kiss look like this before, for the farce that romance and passion really existed. To sell a movie. But never, ever had I felt as if my entire body was on fire and my clothes were weights that needed to be lifted from my body immediately.

A throat cleared.

Loudly.

In a way that made me suspect the throat clearer had already tried to do this quietly previously, but we’d both been too lost in making out to even notice.

Not that this was making out.

I didn’t know what this was.

Sex.

This was sex without penetration, without being horizontal. Which made sense, as Duke was a walking sexy macho-man, he kissed like a fucking macho-man. And I’d thought that was all bullshit.

I tried to extract myself from the kiss knowing the audience, since I could suck face with some asshole in a movie with a whole crew watching, but this was nothing like acting. This was nothing like anything, and I didn’t need nor want an audience.


Tags: Anne Malcom Greenstone Security Romance