Gemma
Jesse Jacobs grabbed her in the world’s biggest bear hug.
“I can’t believe I haven’t seen this girl since the wrap party for Seventh Voyage,” he bellowed into her hair.
Jesse smelled as good as he’d always smelled. Some kind of earthy cologne that he’d had custom blended or something, if she remembered right. Her heart squeezed with longing the moment he let her go.
“This is my friend Adonis.”
“That your real name?”
A genuine laugh escaped Gemma before she could cover her mouth or swallow it down. “It was the first question I asked him, too.”
“The name fits. That’s for sure.” Jesse eyed her tall blond companion with appreciation. Adonis was his type. But then again, Adonis was probably every living, breathing person’s type.
She could feel the heat surrounding her as she flushed with embarrassment. She walked over to a stand of drinks and grabbed a Pellegrino before anyone could see the red blotches steal up her face. Red-faced redhead was not a good look.
“You’re completely bald now?” she said as she sipped at the fizzy water.
“Yeah. Well. It’s the hot look. It’s either that or start putting that noxious stuff on my head, hoping more hair will grow.”
Playfully, she swiped at his light brown skull liberated of its hair. “You’re still one of the hottest actors in the business.”
“Aw shucks, lady. You want to rent a billboard? Or even better, get my IMDb age adjusted downward.”
“I think you’ve already shaved off five years.”
“Shhh.” Jesse’s mock admonition was only half in jest.
“At least you’re not the youngest Academy Award winner ever.”
She’d started acting as a child. There were probably thousands of articles talking about her youthful Oscar win.
Jesse’s lips pursed in a semi-frown. “You’re thinking about it, aren't you?”
“Oscar versus five years of youth. Might be an even trade.”
They both laughed a good long time. Hollywood was so crazy. But being here with Jesse reminded her why she both loved and hated the business.
“You did a great job tonight. I always loved watching you work. You’re so in the moment. I wish I could disappear as easily into a role as you seem to.”
“Oh, God, we can’t have that hiding-your-light-under-a-bushel talk. You have an entire shelf of shiny awards.”
“I know you’ve probably had a long night and longer week. But I’d love to have you and the guy or girl you’re seeing over for dinner as soon as my house is done.” She looked back at Adonis. “Maybe a few weeks from now.”
“Renovations.” Jesse’s tone was sympathetic.
“Renovations.” She threw up her hands. “It’s coming in early and under budget, though.”
“Good contractor?”
The weight of a thousand clichés descended on her shoulders. How many actresses had gone on to date their builders? One…a hundred. Unable to stop the heat this time, she lifted her hand toward Adonis.
“AA Construction. He’s my builder.”
“At least she knows you’re going to show up in the morning,” Jesse said, tongue firmly planted in cheek.
“I should box your ears,” Gemma admonished.
“I love how you’ve kept all your Britishisms even though you’ve been here more than half your life. Speaking of which, how’s your aunt Sharon. You guys square?”
“Not really. We went our separate ways after Voyage. I harbor no ill will.” Gemma looked at her watch, hoping he didn’t probe that obvious lie. “It’s late. I have a super long drive and you have to get up and do this tomorrow. So great seeing you. Give me your number.”
What would have usually been an exchange of information went one way, with Gemma getting Jesse’s e-mail and cell number. They did the air kiss and hug, though it felt more real than most.
Jesse stuck out his right hand and Adonis took it in a firm grip, placing his other hand over their joined ones. “Nice meeting you, man. Hope to see you again.”
Even though she’d have liked to stay and shoot the breeze a bit longer, she didn’t want to linger too long. Wear out the welcome of an old acquaintance.
The lobby and parking lot were blissfully empty when they wound their way from the back of the theater to outside.
“Hope it was okay for you.”
“Which part, Gemma?”
“All of it. The play. Jesse.”
“It’s all perfectly fine. There’s no reason it shouldn’t be.”
“I kind of dragged you along,” she said, clicking the unlock button on the fob. “I don’t know what you do for fun.”
“Do you want me to drive?” Adonis asked. “It’s a long way back.”
“I’m going to have to say no, okay? Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Gemma,” he said, opening her door and helping her in before he opened the passenger door and got into the seat next to hers.
“You’re right. It’s not about your accident or anything.”
“I didn't think it was.” Though the way he said it made her think he wasn’t telling the entire truth.
Gemma had to focus on clearing her mind when she navigated from the Santa Monica Freeway to the Pacific Coast Highway.
“I like to drive because it’s one place in my life I can exercise some control, yeah. When I was a kid, there was always a driver or my aunt. And even when I was older, being number two on the call sheet meant that a driver came with it. This is the first time I’ve picked out my own car and driven it where I want to go.”
No small birds, animals, or people died on their way back to Malibu, so she marked it as a successful trip.
After the gate closed behind her, the butterflies took up flight in her stomach. Didn’t a date end with shagging if both parties were willing? She was more than willing. After Jesse’s comment about waking up where he worked, she imagined Adonis was ready to put some space and time between them.
She turned to him in the cab of the car. The cabin lights glowed gold on his face. She wondered if he knew how good looking he was. Ninety percent of the actors she’d worked with hadn’t been half as good looking—not without a few hours of work from the best makeup artists in the business.
“You don’t have a partner, do you?” she asked, instead of “do you like me” or “would you like to stay the night.” Her actor’s face kept her from visibly wincing.
Adonis unbuckled his seat belt and turned to her. He pried her cold hands from the steering wheel and wrapped his warm hands around them.
“Gemma—”
As soon as he started speaking, the lights of the Mercedes snapped off. She’d always wondered how long they stayed on after she went in the house. Now she knew. Not quite long enough.
Adonis didn’t seem to notice the light. As soon as her eyes adjusted, the cabin wasn’t as dark as she thought it would be. There was enough light from the moon shining through the smoked-glass roof and ambient light from her outdoor security lights to see him clearly.
“Yeah?”
“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I’d been committed to anyone else.”
Gemma unclenched her gut with relief.
“Do you want to come inside for a drink…of water or juice? Not alcohol. I’m sorry to have pushed the sherry on you.”
“You couldn’t have known. I take all offers with the spirit they are given.”
“Sorry…so…”
“Gemma. Stop. Stop being sorry. You do not have to apologize for having wants and desires. Just because you’re rich and famous, you do not have to be sorry for wanting a human connection. It’s what we all want.”
“Does that mean you’ll come in and have a bit of how’s your father? If you’re not completely shagged of course.”
He dropped her hands and threw his head back in a laugh. “None of that was in English. But if it involves you and a comfortable bed, then I’m in.”
Gemma hopped out of the car and punched a code into the front door. Anticipation made her hands slippery on the knob.
Granger was on the other side of the door, nose pushing through the crack as soon as it was revealed.
The dog. She’d forgotten about Granger. She’d never forgotten the dog before. Is this what sex did to people, make them forget what was important?
“I have to let Granger out,” she said to Adonis.
“I’ll wait in the bedroom,” he said. He stepped through the door. She could hear the sound of his boots fading as he made his way up the stairs.
Gemma dropped the lead three times before she properly fitted it around the dog’s neck. When she bypassed the car, she could sense the dog’s agitation in his unsure gait.
“We’re going to take a quick neighborhood walk. No car or beach today.”
Grabbing the controller from its seat next to the garage, she pushed a button, sliding her gate open, then closed it when she and the dog were on the other side.
In the dark, she looked right, then left. She’d never walked here. The dog usually relieved himself on the property or at the beach. This area outside her gated property was a mystery. The landscape in daylight wandered through her mind. She turned left.
One of the reasons she’d bought the house was its location on a dead-end street. Once he adjusted to the strangeness of the situation, Granger snuffled along, happily sniffing and marking every spot he could find. The end of the road was a short half-mile away. When the pavement ended, she turned. By the time she was back at her gate, Granger had taken care of his needs.
Back through the gate and front door, she clicked the lead off. She plucked a bone from a basket by the door. Satisfied, Granger trotted away to a pillow tucked in a corner.
Now, her needs.
As she walked upstairs, she acknowledged that she did have needs. She needed love and desire and touch. There was a beautiful man at the top of the stairs who could provide if not all, at least two.
The world would not tilt off its axis if she accepted what he was offering.
When she pushed through the door, the scent of shower gel and the humidity of the shower were the first things she noticed.
Adonis was resting on her bed, propped up on her pillows, flipping through a month-old issue of Vanity Fair.
“Do you have them flown in?”
“What?” she asked. Was he talking about shower soap?
“Magazines?”
“Oh, no. Not exactly. I bring them back on flights. I was in London for a weekend a couple of months back.”
Avoiding the orange leather chair, instead she chose to sit on the platform. Leaning down, she picked at the tiny strap and buckle on her suede platform shoes.
Frustrated air puffed from her lips.
“Let me,” Adonis said, tossing the magazine carelessly onto the floor.
A man who lifted drywall and lumber, stone and hammers, knelt before her and, with finesse she wouldn’t have guessed at, unbuckled first one shoe, then the next. He shoved them under one of her chairs with a deft movement then was back.
Wordlessly, he massaged first her arches then ankles. The sheer pleasure was so decadent, she did all she could not to preen like a cat before him. Closing her eyes, she fell back against the silky duvet, letting the warmth from his hands steal up her body.
“I’ve been thinking of taking this dress off for hours,” he whispered in her ear.
His needs and desires were a lot to process. She was used to people worshipping her, admiring her, making all sorts of indecent proposals, but none of those offers had ever come from someone who’d actually met her in person—knew her.
Her skin pricked as Adonis’ hands brushed along her front and sides.
“Is there a zipper?”
Gemma lifted her right arm and hunted for the rice-grain-sized tab. Finding it, she pulled and the slider released the plastic teeth from each other.
His hand slipped through the hole at the side, causing ice and fire to ignite in her veins. Using his other hand, he lifted her bum slightly. In seconds, the heavy fabric was liberated from her body.
“Have I ever told you that you have the sexiest underwear?”
Gemma opened her eyes, staring into those of the man looking at her. Damning the decadence of it, she let her gaze roam over Adonis. From his shaggy blond hair, to his unblinking green eyes. Tentatively, she lifted a hand and smoothed it along his jaw, brushed first his lower lip then upper with her thumb. She nearly fell on the floor when he took a nip of her exploring finger.
“You’re really very tidy.”
“I’m going to guess that doesn’t mean what I think.”
She wasn’t in the mood for translation. “Is your hair curly?”
His fingers combed through his short mane. “Yes. Probably. I’ve seen photos of me as a little guy. My mother didn’t cut it for my first four or five years.”
She continued her exploration, finally bold enough to see and feel what she’d wondered about, desired for the past weeks.
“Sit,” she commanded. He followed her example and perched on the small piece of wood that extended beyond her mattress. This time, she did the kneeling, running each hand along a different wing of collarbone, down his biceps, hard, tense, the veins under his skin pulsing with…what? Strength, effort, strain.
Adonis sucked in air as if there were a shortage of oxygen when she scraped her nails through the hair along his chest, over his pecs, across his tiny nipples.
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.”
“You gasped. Did that hurt?”
“No, it felt good. Really good. The line, I think, between pain and pleasure is very, very fine.”
“Should I stop?”
“Please, God, don’t. This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life as a grown man.”
What? Me? She wanted to ask. But he fingered the silky strap of her bra and she forgot to be self-conscious.
His cock strained through the black briefs. She wanted to see him, touch that part of him that brought them both so much pleasure, but she didn’t know how to ask. If she had to ask. What protocol required.
So she didn’t ask, or apologize or fribble about. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of his briefs, and in several awkward motions, pulled them first up, and when he lifted his bum, then off.
“That’s quite hard,” she heard herself say.
Adonis groaned in agreement, or frustration maybe.
Standing, she offered him a hand. He accepted and followed her lead onto the bed. He lay on his back, watching, waiting.
She knelt, hesitant. Then she straddled him and laid her head upon his chest. His erection remained insistent, throbbing against the silk between her legs. His heart beat in counterpoint.
He fitted a hand along her skull, through her hair sending pins flinging about, and then down along the bumps of her spine, but he made no move to take off her bra or knickers, push inside her.
“Do you…” She didn’t know how to get from where she was to what she wanted.
“I want you to take the lead.”
For a long moment, she just lay there breathing in his scent mingled with her soap. Lifting up only enough to slide along his body, she met his lips with hers. She rubbed her lips against his until he opened to her.
Their tongues mated, dueled, mimicked what would happen between them in minutes. His breath was minty, warm, and his kiss turned her on like no other kiss had. A simple kiss and she was squeezing her thighs, shamelessly rubbing against his cock, trying to relieve the pressure building. But it wasn’t enough.
Reluctantly, she lifted and reared back on her knees. This time she reached around behind her and undid the clasp of the bra. It fell to his chest. She lifted it and discarded it atop the glossy magazine that had held his interest. She pulled her knickers down, and rolled off him onto her back to shimmy them off.
One second, she was tossing them toward her bra, and in the next, Adonis was rolling over her.
“I thought you wanted me to take lead.”
“I was silly. I don’t have the patience for that right now. Not one iota,” he whispered in her ear before bringing his mouth down on hers. This was no sipping of lips or dancing of tongues. His was a soul-deep kiss that liquefied her bones.
Her hands, when she could muster up the strength, explored his back, the corded tendons of his neck, the broad planes of his scapula, the knotted muscle of his flexing bum, which was doing a little thrusting thing, his hot erection rubbing first at her hip, and after she hitched a leg over his hip, at the warm cleft between her thighs.
It was as if nothing had happened and so much had happened. But she wanted more. She wanted him. Inside.
“Condom. Do you have one?”
“Con-dom,” he said, imitating her accent. “I do so love the way you say that.”
Without answering what she felt was the most compelling question of the moment, he left her lips and kissed her throat, collarbone, and then his mouth—hot, hungry, greedy—took in as much of one of her breasts as possible.
Her hips reared up, losing the most precious contact with his cock. But the lips and tongue teasing her nipple were so much better, or at least a very good substitute. His mouth left one breast and moved to the other.
While she tried to gain hold, grab purchase on some part of his body, he thwarted her efforts by slipping his free hand, the one not plumping her breast for his delight, between her legs, a single finger finding her clitoris and alternately pressing and rubbing oh so slowly.
Gemma was consumed by her arousal. She wanted so much to come, to feel relief from the twisting tension, but she held back.
Seconds, or minutes later, he pulled away only long enough to fit the Durex tight over his penis. She watched, avidly interested. Her mouth watered with the knowledge that finally she'd feel fulfilled, finally she'd get what she wanted, what both of them needed.
Deeply he kissed her, holding her head firmly in place. Not allowing her to squirm when the mating of their mouths grew intense. A knee came between her slick thighs and she gasped, ready.
Slowly, he fitted himself inside her. Inch by excruciating inch, he slipped inside. Fast was what she wanted. Fast WAS what would get them both over the edge toward fulfillment. But no matter how many times she begged with her body, grabbing his ass, hair, digging her heels into his bum, he wouldn't move faster.
Deliberately, as if following the beat of the world's slowest metronome, he thrust.
“That feels really good,” she breathed into his ear.
“I know. I don't want it to end, Gemma.”
“But it has to,” she said, so close but so far from orgasm. It was like gazing at the stars, knowing they were there, but never getting any closer to touching them no matter how hard she reached.
“It doesn't.” And it didn't. She hung on that precipice for what seemed like forever. Until his hand brushed her nipple on its way down. Until it brushed against her clitoris not one, not two, but three times. Then, and only then, did her body wind up to the point of no return.
She came long and hard. Groans, cries, and screams filled her bedroom. The squeezing of her inner walls was what probably pushed him over. A minute or two after her, he was giving voice to his own satisfaction.
“That was the best,” she lifted her head to check the bedside clock, “hour of my life.”
“I'm with you there,” Adonis said when he came back from a quick trip to the bathroom.
As if he belonged there, he slipped under the duvet and gathered her in his arms. Willingly she went, laying her head against the beating heart she could hear inside his chest.
Gemma was overwhelmed by a feeling of something she couldn’t pinpoint. There was still lingering tingling between her legs that could be possible arousal, but wasn’t necessary right at this moment, though she could see that the distant pulsing would and could become an insistent thrumming later. Her head was light, the usual obligations not weighing it down, replaced with what she had to call contentment with where she was, who she was, and who she was with.
She couldn’t identify the last time anything like that had ever happened. Except maybe when she was nine. It was the first time she’d ever had a sleepover, and she and her friend Fiona had shared secrets well into the night. That was the last week before she’d been scouted, before she’d gone on the whirlwind audition tour for The Red Cradle. Before she’d been shipped to the Sierra Nevada Mountains for six months of film production.
“I want to forgive my sister.” Adonis’ chest rumbled with speech. “I want my sister to forgive me. My father’s right. It’s time to reconcile.”
“People say the power of forgiveness is amazing.”
“That play from tonight made me think about it. All that arguing and such made for a good play, but it doesn’t really make for a good family gathering in real life.”
“I could imagine.”
“Can I ask you how you did it?”
“Did what?”
“Forgive your aunt.”
“What?”
“When we were in the dressing room. You said to Jesse that you and your aunt were square.”
Gemma disentangled from him. “I’ll be right back,” she said. She pulled her robe from its place on the bathroom door and took herself down the hall. Getting out a glass, she poured herself a generous measure of sherry. After gulping that down, she brought a more modest glass back to the bedroom and deposited it on the bedside table.
She gathered throw pillows that had fallen to the floor in their haste to use the bed for something other than sleeping. Only after she’d gotten back in bed and gotten comfortable did she speak.
“I’m drinking this because I honestly need it right now.”
“Gemma. I’m not the alcohol police. I gave up drinking because it fucked up my life, not yours.”
With that permission, she took another fortifying sip. “I’m square with my aunt because we settled the lawsuit. No reason other than that.”
“Lawsuit?”
“I guess you don't watch much television.”
“No offense, but watching reports of the sordid details of other people’s lives isn’t my thing. Not that I’m saying your life is sordid,” he backpedaled.
“Maybe it is. Look, after The Red Cradle, I was immediately cast in another movie. Emperor.”
“The one shot in China?”
“It was one of the first movies the Communist Party permitted. My dad’s a teacher. My mum’s life is really busy. By that time she couldn’t just quit and spend six months in China. Enter Sharon.”
“She had time?”
“She was an actress living in Venice. My mum thought she’d be a great chaperone, companion. She’d get ten percent of my earnings and she could still pursue her own career. I’d get loving supervision from a family member, not some American stranger.”
“Doesn’t sound like the world’s worst idea.”
“It probably wasn’t. But it ended in a lawsuit and a restraining order.”
“Didn’t end good?”
“I don’t know if any relationship in Hollywood does. Do you know what a Coogan account is?”
“Nope.”
“Long story short, California law requires that fifteen percent of a child’s pay be put in a blocked trust account.”
“Fifteen?” He screwed up his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.
“I shouldn’t say California. It’s the same in New York. Should be eighty-five. Anyway, the kid can’t get access to the account until they’re of legal age. An adult needs to be put in charge of the account. That person was my aunt Sharon.”
Adonis shifted so his head was against the headboard. He lifted his muscled arms and made a cradle of his hands for his head. Despite all the movement, he never broke eye contact.
“Long story short, I went to the SAG-AFTRA credit union two days after my eighteenth birthday.”
“Why did you wait so long?”
“I was legless for a couple of days.”
“Legless?”
“Squiffy. Drunk. Eighteen is the legal drinking age in London and I was out painting the city red. Everything was paid for, I didn’t have any suspicions, really. I went because my mum mentioned that it was time that I learn how to control my own finances.”
“Then what?”
“The what was that there was maybe half the money I’d been expecting. Took me weeks of pouring over old bank statements with my dad, but we figured Sharon started off depositing the ninety percent she and my parents had agreed upon. But as my career got bigger and her work dried up, I think. I guess. I don’t know. I think she got jealous. I mean I was stupid. All the signs were there. She rented out her bungalow in Venice and moved us into a big house in Los Feliz. Designer purses and shoes came in the door nearly every day. But I didn’t want to be suspicious, I think. I chalked it up to the free stuff celebrities get and just got on one plane or another to film the next movie.”
“But you had to sue?”
“Never sue when you’re angry,” Gemma started. “That’s what the lawyers said to me. But I was hurt by her betrayal with Andy O’Bryan.”
“Geez. Him again?”
“When I hired the forensic accountant, Sharon got mad. She visited me on set. Shut down production while she screamed that she’d given everything up for me and I owed her. She said her youth was gone. Her opportunities were gone. I owed her for taking that away, making her miss the prime acting time of her life babysitting me.”
“What does that have to do with O’Bryan?”
“Andy’s good, but not that clever. Sharon was in on the tape with him. She dolled me up and got me to go over there. She’s the one with the foreign connections who got them money for the video.”
“Two people who were supposed to love you…”
“Sold me to the highest bidder,” she said completing the sentence he’d left hanging. Gemma downed the remaining liquid. It burned a path past the lump in her throat. She swallowed hard. Betrayal was a bitter pill.
Breath puffed from Adonis’ lips. “Jesus, aren’t we a pair.”
“Don’t go by me. Your relationship with Zoe sounds reparable. It was a really terrible thing that happened. You two can probably, if not put it behind you, then maybe put family first and make the best of it going forward.”
“You, Gemma Hart, are very wise.” His yawn was wide and unapologetic. He turned over, pulling the duvet over his shoulder. Already looking half asleep, he said, “I have to get to sleep so I’m not late for work in the morning.”
She almost protested, but then he made a broad wink and closed both his eyes.