Fall (Seaside 4)

Her lower lip stopped trembling. In fact her entire body froze.

I leaned in, my lips only inches from hers. I hesitated, not sure how to proceed, how to kiss her without changing things. But I was an actor. I did that for a living. I kissed girls — it was my job. I could kiss Priscilla and feel nothing.

I shut down my emotions and touched my lips to hers. Electricity coursed through me as our mouths connected, lip to lip, mouth to mouth, it was impossible to pull away. I added pressure to her bottom lip then slowly pushed my tongue across the barrier of her lips.

Moving slow, I pushed further, went deeper, our tongues touched and then pulled away, almost like a dance, as if I was playing a cat and mouse game, and damn, I didn’t know which one I wanted to be, cat or mouse.

She gave a slight moan.

And everything that I’d securely locked down went to hell.

I wrapped my arms around her tight little body and pulled her hard against me, her arms looped around my neck as she arched into me.

Dying. I was dying.

I moved my hands down her body and rested them against her hips. I wanted to lift her shirt. I wanted to plunge into her so hard that I forgot everything.

Everything but her.

Instead, somehow, I was able to slightly push her away and end the kiss.

My hands were shaking; I hoped to God she wouldn’t notice the effect she had on me. The way my body trembled with unleashed desire.

“Wow…” she breathed, opening her eyes. “I’m not sure if that was you or me.”

“Both,” I managed a small smile. “But I’m the movie star so I get more points, you understand.”

She laughed.

It wasn’t awkward.

It should have been awkward. Awkward meant she was dying inside like I was. Awkward meant she wanted me like I wanted her.

Instead, she was so calm I wanted to grab her again, preferably by the hair, and rip her clothes off.

“You’re a very, very good kisser,” I said hoarsely. “He’s an ass if he thinks otherwise.”

“So maybe he’s bad,” she offered in a teasing voice.

“It’s not you,” I said honestly. “And if you don’t believe me, just feel.” I grabbed her hand and placed it on my chest. “Heart racing. Check. Body humming. Check.”

“Ohh.” Her palm was warm against my chest. “So that’s how you know you’re a good kisser? When you make the other person’s heart beat like crazy?”

Her innocence was astounding, in certain areas she seemed so mature, but when it came to guys? Sex? It was like throwing a lamb into a pack of wolves.

“It’s not about the heartbeat, but about why it’s beating so hard in the first place,” I said smoothly placing my hand over hers. “And right now, it’s because a girl knows how to give a pretty damn good kiss.”

She slid her hand away from mine.

I felt empty inside. Like someone just stole my soul and sold it to the highest bidder.

“Thanks, Jaymeson. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah I did,” I said quickly, almost interrupting her. “And now you know.”

“That I’m a good kisser?”

“Hell no,” I swore. “That you’re the freaking main course, not the appetizer, not the dessert. But the main attraction, the prize, the treasure. The full package. If he isn’t buying into that truth? Then he can go to hell. Or I’ll just spray paint jackass on his house.”

She burst out laughing.

I’d do anything to hear her laugh.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Rein it in, Jaymeson!

“So you, uh, mentioned a movie?”

“Scary movie?” She chewed her bottom lip.

“Sure.”

Fun fact about Jamie Jaymeson? I hated scary movies. I hated things that were haunted and Halloween was my least favorite holiday ever. I turned off my lights and holed up in my house like some elderly person afraid of their own shadow.

So when she said scary movie, I said yes. Not because I had balls of steel — but because I was pretty sure that at some point she’d get scared, and I was just the “friend” to put my arm around her and whisper that it would be okay.

Hell ya. Bring it on!

Chapter Eighteen

Priscilla

I hated scary movies. But I knew a romantic comedy would just make me think about the kiss with Jaymeson, and anything else wasn’t distraction enough. Plus, he was an actor. I swear he was in every single one of my favorite movies from the past five years. The only thing he’d never done was a horror film, so horror film it was.

Luckily Demetri had hooked up the Apple TV so we had Netflix. I clicked through the movies and settled on, What Lies Beneath. It was older so I figured it wouldn’t be super terrifying.

An hour into the movie and I almost felt like sobbing.

Jaymeson had screamed at least twice and I was pretty sure he was just as freaked out as I was.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “Don’t do it, Harrison! Don’t do it!” Harrison Ford opened the door to see his possessed wife lying across the floor. “Damn you, Harrison Ford. Damn you!” Jaymeson shouted.

I burst out laughing. “Are you always this entertaining to watch movies with?”

“Shh!” he snapped, and then grabbed a handful of popcorn all without looking at me or anything else but the movie screen. “She’s going to kill you, dude! Get out of there, get out!”

I stopped watching the movie, and watched Jaymeson instead.