It Was Only a Kiss

‘Is that all you’re going to say?’ Jess demanded, annoyance in every syllable.

Oh, now she wanted to discuss it? Why didn’t she just put his pecker in a wringer and be done with it? ‘You said we can’t do it again. I agreed. Did you expect me to argue with you? Force you? Beg you?’

‘No. I—I just thought that you might have an opinion...’

That it had been the best sex of his life? That he’d been mentally, emotionally blown away? That he could picture her in his bed when they were old and grey? That he knew that was impossible...?

Luke heard the rustle of bedclothes and looked over his shoulder to see Jess stalk—his mouth dried up—stark naked over to his cupboard and yank the doors open. She pulled a rugby jersey over her head and rolled the long sleeves up and over her hands. The hem of the garment skimmed her pretty knees and draped over her perfect breasts.

‘Well, then, I suppose there’s not much else to say,’ Jess stated as she plucked her bra from the lampshade.

She bent down, briefly flashing the top of her thighs, and when she stood up a scrap of black lace fabric dangled from her finger. Her thong—which he’d destroyed with a quick twist.

‘Except that you owe me a thong.’

* * *

Jess looked at Sbu and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, there’s something missing.’

He was going to kill her, he really was, Luke thought as muted groans from the crew floated across the room. He caught a couple of eye-rolls from the other actors and knew exactly how they felt. They had a right to be frustrated, Luke thought. They’d been filming for the best part of the day: a mock Sunday lunch, drinking wine in front of the fire. She’d even had Luke playing chess with a father-like figure.

They were supposed to be showing him in a family/friends situation, but he knew that the entire day had been an absolute waste of everyone’s time. His especially, since he was the only one in the room who wasn’t being paid for his time.

‘Take a break, everyone,’ Jess said, and Luke walked out of the formal lounge of the manor house, where they’d been filming an after-dinner scene. Ducking into the empty study next door, he placed his hands on the back of a wingback chair and sucked in air. He knew that he was mostly responsible for the cock-up that was today. He hadn’t managed to deliver the goods. He was stiff and uncomfortable and, as Sbu had pointed out, he would come across on film as being irritated and annoyed.

Mostly because he was.

They wanted to show off his home, his heritage, filled with laughing, happy people, and Luke looking relaxed and at home. Except that he wasn’t. Luke walked up and down the Persian runner, its rich jewel tones perfectly complemented by the wooden floorboards. He wasn’t relaxed and feeling at home because this wasn’t his home. He might own it and be the last Savage, but he had no emotional connection to this house, the furniture, to the fact that his forefathers had walked these halls, to the long-ago Savage wife who had ordered this carpet.

He had the dysfunctional relationship with his father to thank for that.

It didn’t help that he and Jess were barely talking. When they did, they were stiff and uptight, tiptoeing around each other. It made him feel uncomfortable and uptight and...dammit...so lonely.

You’re feeling sorry for yourself, Savage. Suck it up. But acting out his childhood fantasy hurt like hell, and all that got him through was thinking of Jess and the night he’d spent in her arms. It had been a fantasy, perfection, emotionally and physically fulfilling. He’d found himself wanting to lose himself in her not only physically but mentally as well. He wanted to know her secret hopes, her biggest fears, her first memories.

Mercia, ex-wife and amateur psychologist, had once told him he had abandonment issues. Because his mother had left him and his father had never been available he wasn’t able to commit emotionally, to let anyone in, to be intimate. Until the other night that had been true, and the knowledge terrified him.

He couldn’t afford to feel emotionally connected to Jess...because if he did and she walked away he didn’t think his heart would recover.

No, it was better this way...it had to be better this way.

‘Luke?’

Luke lifted his head and saw Jess in the doorway, her eyebrows pulled together and her eyes radiating determination. She’d been a pain in the ass all day—demanding, precise, determined. Unbending and an utter control freak. ‘We’re ready for you. Sbu and I have rewritten the storyboard...’

He was done. There was no way he was going back in front of a camera and selling his perfect life. His father had done that all his life...acted affectionately towards him in company and treated him terribly when they were alone. He was done with it.