Until I Break
Page 12
I nod my answer.
“I think about doing things to you. Some of them might scare you. But others…might not.” His lips are so close to my ear, his breath moves my hair. He angles his body toward mine and drops his hand onto my leg. “I don’t think it would scare you if I told you that I’d like to kiss you again.” As he speaks, his fingers are making circles on my bare thigh. “I doubt it would scare you if I told you that I’d like to take you into the grass right behind this ride, where you could still smell the popcorn and hear the Merry-Go-Round, and peel these shorts off you.” His fingertips are working their way up my leg, the circles getting larger and larger. “I’d say it wouldn’t even scare you if I told you I’d like to slide your panties down your beautiful legs then stuff them into your mouth so no one could hear your moans.”
I’m breathless. The only two things I can hear are his voice and the sound of my own blood rushing through my veins. My whole world is focused on his words. And his hand, as it rises ever higher on my thigh.
I feel the backs of his fingers graze the edge of my shorts. “You’re not afraid, are you?”
I can’t answer. My mouth is too dry and some unidentified emotion is lodged in my throat. But I can shake my head. And I do. I shake my head in denial of my fear, even though it’s a lie. He does scare me. More than he could ever imagine.
“Then it probably won’t scare you when I tell you I want to kiss you right here.” His fingers fall to the inside of my thigh, where my legs are pressed together. Reflexively, I clamp them together harder. “But it might scare you when I tell you that your resistance makes me want to…press the issue.” His fingers slip beneath the hem of my shorts. I feel them trace the edge of my panties, moving inexorably closer to my core. “It makes me want to push your legs open until I hear you gasp. It makes me want to hold your struggling body still while I put my tongue inside you. Because I know what I’ll taste. I’ll taste desire. I’ll taste that you wanted me to force you. Just a little. I’ll taste your sweet body as it betrays you. I’ll taste it when it pours out onto my lips. Mmmm,” he purrs into my ear. “Samantha?”
When he doesn’t continue, I whisper my response. “Yes?”
“Your panties are wet.”
Slowly, he pulls his hand from beneath my shorts and straightens in his seat. Within a few seconds of his retreat, the ride slows and another Carnie appears in a pool of light at the end of the tunnel. I look over at Alec. His face is a stony mask.
When the ride stops, Alec helps me out of the car and places his hand at the small of my back to guide me toward the exit.
“Did you enjoy your ride folks?” the Carnie asks when we reach him.
“Very much,” Alec answers.
I look at his face again. And again, I see nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY - Alec
The tangle of damp sheets twisted around my legs wakes me. It takes me a few seconds to clear my head of the remnants of the dream. It was so real, I find myself repeating over and over and over it was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.
But it felt so real. Too real. I felt myself turning the corner from erotic pleasure to terror. And it felt just like it did then.
It’s been a long time since I’ve dreamed like this. And it’s not a welcome return. I’m not sure what it means, but I’d be willing to bet it has everything to do with Samantha and how I’m luring her in.
Or is it how she’s luring me in?
Either way, I’m going down a road I know to avoid. I’ve come a long way and going back now is lunacy. And yet here I am, passing all the familiar scenery, traveling the same path again.
I thought I was past this. I thought I was better than this. That I was better period.
But I guess some wounds never heal. Not completely. Just like some ghosts never stop haunting.
It’s a good thing I’ll soon be leaving. This place is bad for me right now.
And so is Samantha Jansen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Samantha
“Til when?” Chris screeches.
“Next Saturday. Sunday at the latest.”
“Sweet mother of hell, that’s an effin’ week!”
“I know, I know. And, trust me, if I could get out of it, I would. But this is part of the business, Chris. You know that. And you know how much I hate it.”
She growls into the phone, but I know she’ll come around. Although we’re not blood related, we’re sisters in all the ways that count, including having each other’s back.
“Fine. But you’re gonna owe me so huge. Like first-born huge.”
“Done!” I shout quickly.
“Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.”
I know Chris is just teasing, but it makes me feel like she secretly feels as hopeless about my chances of a normal life as I sometimes do.
“That’s encouraging.”
There is absolute silence for about ten seconds. I picture Chris’s eyes wide and her mouth hanging open and the words Oh shit! running through her head on a loop.
“That’s not…I didn’t mean…I wasn’t…”
“It’s all right. I’m just pickin’ on you,” I say lightly, trying to hide just how much her words hurt.
“Sam, I—”
“Hey, before I forget, I’m gonna need some awesome shoes that Laura Drake might wear to an evening function in Portland. Any suggestions?”
Talking shop, which is Chris’s second favorite thing in the world (sex being the first), is always a safe and effective way to change the subject.
“I do actually have the perfect shoe for you, but they go with the perfect dress. Package deal. Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”
I hesitate. “Nothing too…colorful, I hope.”
“Nothing Laura Drake can’t wear, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Then don’t. You’ll look beautiful.”
“Oh, I don’t think I need to worry about that either.”
“Would you stop doing that?” Chris snaps.
“Stop doing what?”
“Putting yourself down like that.”
“I wasn’t. I was just making a truthful comment. Nothing more.”
“It’s not truthful at all. You are beautiful, whether you see it or not. Everyone else does. How else would you have caught the eye of a hottie like Alec Brand?”
“I still wonder that very same thing.”
“Listen to what he’s not saying. You’ll be able to hear what he thinks of you loud and clear. I did and I’ve only seen you two together for a total of, what, ten minutes?”
“And just what, pray tell, do you think you ‘heard’?”
“All the standard things, of course. You’re hot, I wanna do you, yada yada yada. But I think the most interesting and important thing I picked up was that he thinks you’re different. I think he’s as surprised by you as you are by him.”
Her words make me happy. Too happy. They feel like validation because I, too, sometimes get that feeling. There’s something about the way Alec watches me. It’s like he’s puzzling over me, like he can’t quite figure me out. And I think, for a man like Alec, that’s a good thing. Being too standard and too easy to read would probably bore him. At least I hope so.
“I hope you’re right,” I say simply.
“Of course I’m right. When have you known me to be wrong?” she retorts, throwing my words back at me.
“Oh God!” I say, rolling my eyes even though she can’t see it. She giggles, which tells me she knows exactly what I just did.
********
Arriving as Laura Drake is always easier than departing as Laura Drake. Granted, I might take a little more care with my identity than what is necessary, but keeping Samantha Jansen and all her secrets out of the public eye is of utmost importance to me. It’s with this in mind that I battle Sunday airport traffic so I can fly in a day early. I hit the First Class lounge as soon as I arrive in Portland.
I spread my makeup bag on the vanity in front of the mirror and I begin applying eye shadow. I put a dark green on my lid and line my lower lashes with the gray, giving them a smoky look that I think perpetuates the image of Laura Drake, an image that is nothing like that of the fresh-faced, unremarkable Samantha Jansen.
A little blush and some crimson on my lips and I’m ready to don Laura’s smart-yet-sexy suit. Several minutes later, I stand once more in front of the mirror, pushing strands of dark red hair under the stocking that goes on before my wig. Once the silky black hair is in place, non-prescription glasses finish me off.
There is nothing left of Samantha Jansen looking back at me. It’s as though she ceases to exist entirely when Laura Drake is on stage.
Stuffing all remnants of Sam on top of Laura’s cosmetics, I close the zipper then throw the bag over my shoulder. I’m ready to face Portland now.
As promised, Ari is waiting for me at the baggage claim area, my garment bag and small suitcase at his feet. His pale blue eyes light up when he sees me. He’s always loved seeing me in full Laura gear.
When I reach him, he tries to take the bag from my shoulder. “No, I’ve got it. You’ve got your hands full,” I observe, nodding at the two luggage pieces he claimed for me.
He shrugs and picks up my garment bag and suitcase. “So,” he begins. “Tell me what’s going on with you. I smell man all over this funk you’re in.”
“I’m not in a funk. Besides, you smell man all over everything.”
He grins at me. “I wish.”
I grin as we make our way to the cab waiting along the curb. Once inside, he continues as if there hadn’t been a pause. “Well?”
I sigh. I probably shouldn’t say anything, and I certainly don’t owe Ari an explanation, but for some reason I want to talk about it.
“I met a guy.”
Ari’s eyes light up and he turns in his seat to face me. “I want details. What’s he look like, is he a good kisser, and will he be a good father to your children?”
“God, slow down! You’re as bad as Chris.”
“Okay then let’s start with the most important first. Is he a good kisser?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“As a matter of fact he is.”
“That’s a good sign. And where did you meet this diamond in the rough?”
“Do you remember the last guy to ask a question at the—”
Ari doesn’t even give me time to finish. He gasps and slaps my arm. “NO! Not that delicious hunk in blue jeans and boots?”
I should’ve known Ari would remember someone who looks like Alec.
“That’s the one.”
“Girl! I should’ve known that, when you finally found someone, it would be a stud like that.”
I ignore that statement for what it is—assumption that my private life is like the life I write about. It’s the same thing most people think.
And they couldn’t be any more wrong.
“Well, it’s pretty complicated.”
“So that’s where the mood swings come from.”
“I don’t have mood swings.”
“Sure. And I don’t have a thing for great pecs.”
Again, I ignore him. “Anyway…”
“So he knows who you are then?”
“No!” The single word is propelled from my mouth with all the anxiety a disaster such as that inspires. “No, he doesn’t.”
“So, he only knows you as Laura?”
“Actually, he only knows me as Samantha. He doesn’t know it’s me he met last week.”
“Oh,” he says deadpan. The single word is flat and ominous, like a death knell. And I don’t like the sound of it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ari’s eyes widen innocently. “What’s what supposed to mean? I didn’t say anything.”
“That ‘oh’ was definitely something.”
Ari shrugs. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“It is. I just…”
“You just what?”
“I worry about you. You know that.”
“But why are you worried? Ten seconds ago you were all ‘give me details’.”
“Yeah, but that was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I realized you didn’t tell him.”
“Why does that matter?”
“I just can’t imagine any relationship going very far when you’re keeping huge secrets right from the beginning.”
I feel my lips thin in anger. I want to snap back with a snide comment, but I can’t. There’s nothing to say. Ari’s right. And that’s what makes me angry.
********
I’m lying in bed when the phone rings. It’s still early by Oregon time, but my body still thinks it’s in South Carolina. That’s another reason I came in early—to give myself a day to adjust.
My heart stutters, as has become my usual reaction since meeting Alec. Until I see that it’s Chris calling. Then it shrivels just a little.
It’s ridiculous that I should be so upset about not hearing from Alec since Friday. I should be grateful that he’s taking me out of a difficult situation, one I might not have been able to extricate myself from, no matter how self-destructive it was.
Yet I can’t be thankful. Not when I’m feeling so hurt and disappointed and deflated.
“I think about doing things to you. Some of them might scare you. But others…might not.” His lips are so close to my ear, his breath moves my hair. He angles his body toward mine and drops his hand onto my leg. “I don’t think it would scare you if I told you that I’d like to kiss you again.” As he speaks, his fingers are making circles on my bare thigh. “I doubt it would scare you if I told you that I’d like to take you into the grass right behind this ride, where you could still smell the popcorn and hear the Merry-Go-Round, and peel these shorts off you.” His fingertips are working their way up my leg, the circles getting larger and larger. “I’d say it wouldn’t even scare you if I told you I’d like to slide your panties down your beautiful legs then stuff them into your mouth so no one could hear your moans.”
I’m breathless. The only two things I can hear are his voice and the sound of my own blood rushing through my veins. My whole world is focused on his words. And his hand, as it rises ever higher on my thigh.
I feel the backs of his fingers graze the edge of my shorts. “You’re not afraid, are you?”
I can’t answer. My mouth is too dry and some unidentified emotion is lodged in my throat. But I can shake my head. And I do. I shake my head in denial of my fear, even though it’s a lie. He does scare me. More than he could ever imagine.
“Then it probably won’t scare you when I tell you I want to kiss you right here.” His fingers fall to the inside of my thigh, where my legs are pressed together. Reflexively, I clamp them together harder. “But it might scare you when I tell you that your resistance makes me want to…press the issue.” His fingers slip beneath the hem of my shorts. I feel them trace the edge of my panties, moving inexorably closer to my core. “It makes me want to push your legs open until I hear you gasp. It makes me want to hold your struggling body still while I put my tongue inside you. Because I know what I’ll taste. I’ll taste desire. I’ll taste that you wanted me to force you. Just a little. I’ll taste your sweet body as it betrays you. I’ll taste it when it pours out onto my lips. Mmmm,” he purrs into my ear. “Samantha?”
When he doesn’t continue, I whisper my response. “Yes?”
“Your panties are wet.”
Slowly, he pulls his hand from beneath my shorts and straightens in his seat. Within a few seconds of his retreat, the ride slows and another Carnie appears in a pool of light at the end of the tunnel. I look over at Alec. His face is a stony mask.
When the ride stops, Alec helps me out of the car and places his hand at the small of my back to guide me toward the exit.
“Did you enjoy your ride folks?” the Carnie asks when we reach him.
“Very much,” Alec answers.
I look at his face again. And again, I see nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY - Alec
The tangle of damp sheets twisted around my legs wakes me. It takes me a few seconds to clear my head of the remnants of the dream. It was so real, I find myself repeating over and over and over it was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.
But it felt so real. Too real. I felt myself turning the corner from erotic pleasure to terror. And it felt just like it did then.
It’s been a long time since I’ve dreamed like this. And it’s not a welcome return. I’m not sure what it means, but I’d be willing to bet it has everything to do with Samantha and how I’m luring her in.
Or is it how she’s luring me in?
Either way, I’m going down a road I know to avoid. I’ve come a long way and going back now is lunacy. And yet here I am, passing all the familiar scenery, traveling the same path again.
I thought I was past this. I thought I was better than this. That I was better period.
But I guess some wounds never heal. Not completely. Just like some ghosts never stop haunting.
It’s a good thing I’ll soon be leaving. This place is bad for me right now.
And so is Samantha Jansen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Samantha
“Til when?” Chris screeches.
“Next Saturday. Sunday at the latest.”
“Sweet mother of hell, that’s an effin’ week!”
“I know, I know. And, trust me, if I could get out of it, I would. But this is part of the business, Chris. You know that. And you know how much I hate it.”
She growls into the phone, but I know she’ll come around. Although we’re not blood related, we’re sisters in all the ways that count, including having each other’s back.
“Fine. But you’re gonna owe me so huge. Like first-born huge.”
“Done!” I shout quickly.
“Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.”
I know Chris is just teasing, but it makes me feel like she secretly feels as hopeless about my chances of a normal life as I sometimes do.
“That’s encouraging.”
There is absolute silence for about ten seconds. I picture Chris’s eyes wide and her mouth hanging open and the words Oh shit! running through her head on a loop.
“That’s not…I didn’t mean…I wasn’t…”
“It’s all right. I’m just pickin’ on you,” I say lightly, trying to hide just how much her words hurt.
“Sam, I—”
“Hey, before I forget, I’m gonna need some awesome shoes that Laura Drake might wear to an evening function in Portland. Any suggestions?”
Talking shop, which is Chris’s second favorite thing in the world (sex being the first), is always a safe and effective way to change the subject.
“I do actually have the perfect shoe for you, but they go with the perfect dress. Package deal. Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”
I hesitate. “Nothing too…colorful, I hope.”
“Nothing Laura Drake can’t wear, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Then don’t. You’ll look beautiful.”
“Oh, I don’t think I need to worry about that either.”
“Would you stop doing that?” Chris snaps.
“Stop doing what?”
“Putting yourself down like that.”
“I wasn’t. I was just making a truthful comment. Nothing more.”
“It’s not truthful at all. You are beautiful, whether you see it or not. Everyone else does. How else would you have caught the eye of a hottie like Alec Brand?”
“I still wonder that very same thing.”
“Listen to what he’s not saying. You’ll be able to hear what he thinks of you loud and clear. I did and I’ve only seen you two together for a total of, what, ten minutes?”
“And just what, pray tell, do you think you ‘heard’?”
“All the standard things, of course. You’re hot, I wanna do you, yada yada yada. But I think the most interesting and important thing I picked up was that he thinks you’re different. I think he’s as surprised by you as you are by him.”
Her words make me happy. Too happy. They feel like validation because I, too, sometimes get that feeling. There’s something about the way Alec watches me. It’s like he’s puzzling over me, like he can’t quite figure me out. And I think, for a man like Alec, that’s a good thing. Being too standard and too easy to read would probably bore him. At least I hope so.
“I hope you’re right,” I say simply.
“Of course I’m right. When have you known me to be wrong?” she retorts, throwing my words back at me.
“Oh God!” I say, rolling my eyes even though she can’t see it. She giggles, which tells me she knows exactly what I just did.
********
Arriving as Laura Drake is always easier than departing as Laura Drake. Granted, I might take a little more care with my identity than what is necessary, but keeping Samantha Jansen and all her secrets out of the public eye is of utmost importance to me. It’s with this in mind that I battle Sunday airport traffic so I can fly in a day early. I hit the First Class lounge as soon as I arrive in Portland.
I spread my makeup bag on the vanity in front of the mirror and I begin applying eye shadow. I put a dark green on my lid and line my lower lashes with the gray, giving them a smoky look that I think perpetuates the image of Laura Drake, an image that is nothing like that of the fresh-faced, unremarkable Samantha Jansen.
A little blush and some crimson on my lips and I’m ready to don Laura’s smart-yet-sexy suit. Several minutes later, I stand once more in front of the mirror, pushing strands of dark red hair under the stocking that goes on before my wig. Once the silky black hair is in place, non-prescription glasses finish me off.
There is nothing left of Samantha Jansen looking back at me. It’s as though she ceases to exist entirely when Laura Drake is on stage.
Stuffing all remnants of Sam on top of Laura’s cosmetics, I close the zipper then throw the bag over my shoulder. I’m ready to face Portland now.
As promised, Ari is waiting for me at the baggage claim area, my garment bag and small suitcase at his feet. His pale blue eyes light up when he sees me. He’s always loved seeing me in full Laura gear.
When I reach him, he tries to take the bag from my shoulder. “No, I’ve got it. You’ve got your hands full,” I observe, nodding at the two luggage pieces he claimed for me.
He shrugs and picks up my garment bag and suitcase. “So,” he begins. “Tell me what’s going on with you. I smell man all over this funk you’re in.”
“I’m not in a funk. Besides, you smell man all over everything.”
He grins at me. “I wish.”
I grin as we make our way to the cab waiting along the curb. Once inside, he continues as if there hadn’t been a pause. “Well?”
I sigh. I probably shouldn’t say anything, and I certainly don’t owe Ari an explanation, but for some reason I want to talk about it.
“I met a guy.”
Ari’s eyes light up and he turns in his seat to face me. “I want details. What’s he look like, is he a good kisser, and will he be a good father to your children?”
“God, slow down! You’re as bad as Chris.”
“Okay then let’s start with the most important first. Is he a good kisser?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“As a matter of fact he is.”
“That’s a good sign. And where did you meet this diamond in the rough?”
“Do you remember the last guy to ask a question at the—”
Ari doesn’t even give me time to finish. He gasps and slaps my arm. “NO! Not that delicious hunk in blue jeans and boots?”
I should’ve known Ari would remember someone who looks like Alec.
“That’s the one.”
“Girl! I should’ve known that, when you finally found someone, it would be a stud like that.”
I ignore that statement for what it is—assumption that my private life is like the life I write about. It’s the same thing most people think.
And they couldn’t be any more wrong.
“Well, it’s pretty complicated.”
“So that’s where the mood swings come from.”
“I don’t have mood swings.”
“Sure. And I don’t have a thing for great pecs.”
Again, I ignore him. “Anyway…”
“So he knows who you are then?”
“No!” The single word is propelled from my mouth with all the anxiety a disaster such as that inspires. “No, he doesn’t.”
“So, he only knows you as Laura?”
“Actually, he only knows me as Samantha. He doesn’t know it’s me he met last week.”
“Oh,” he says deadpan. The single word is flat and ominous, like a death knell. And I don’t like the sound of it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ari’s eyes widen innocently. “What’s what supposed to mean? I didn’t say anything.”
“That ‘oh’ was definitely something.”
Ari shrugs. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“It is. I just…”
“You just what?”
“I worry about you. You know that.”
“But why are you worried? Ten seconds ago you were all ‘give me details’.”
“Yeah, but that was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I realized you didn’t tell him.”
“Why does that matter?”
“I just can’t imagine any relationship going very far when you’re keeping huge secrets right from the beginning.”
I feel my lips thin in anger. I want to snap back with a snide comment, but I can’t. There’s nothing to say. Ari’s right. And that’s what makes me angry.
********
I’m lying in bed when the phone rings. It’s still early by Oregon time, but my body still thinks it’s in South Carolina. That’s another reason I came in early—to give myself a day to adjust.
My heart stutters, as has become my usual reaction since meeting Alec. Until I see that it’s Chris calling. Then it shrivels just a little.
It’s ridiculous that I should be so upset about not hearing from Alec since Friday. I should be grateful that he’s taking me out of a difficult situation, one I might not have been able to extricate myself from, no matter how self-destructive it was.
Yet I can’t be thankful. Not when I’m feeling so hurt and disappointed and deflated.
