"No. Either you trust me, or you don't. Our pasts don't matter. The only thing that counts is what we have together right now," I said softly. I gazed into her eyes lovingly and gently placed my hand on her cheek, drawing her lips to mine for an intimate kiss. Once we embraced, I knew she would melt into my arms and I'd be able to carry her upstairs to my bedroom suite where we would spend the night fucking until we orgasmed again and again and again.
Kayla opened her mouth to mine and sighed with pleasure, but her hands didn't curl around my neck like they usually did. Instead, she placed them on my chest and pushed me away, gently but firmly.
With a stern voice and sad eyes, she looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, Ethan, but I'm not just some dumb model who only wants to fuck. If you're going to be my boyfriend, that means lowering this brick wall you've put around yourself and letting me in.
“I want to know the real you. All your worries, fears, faults, and secrets. All your joys, triumphs, hopes, and ambitions. If you had a drug problem, or a bad day at work, or are getting sued, I want to know. And I want to be able to share my day, too, in the exact same way.
“I got offered a job today. A fantastic job, and you know what the first thing was I wanted to do when I left my agent’s office? I wanted to tell you. I want intimacy between us. Real intimacy, and until I get that, there will be no fucking. Goodbye, Ethan."
I was dumbfounded. It was all too much to take in. I knew I should say something to defend myself, but my actions were indefensible. So, I just stood silently and watched as she turned and walked away.
I poured myself a double whiskey form the bar and pounded it down. Shit. This really had been the worst day of my life. I no longer cared about the lawsuit or any of the other bullshit at work. Because of my own stupidity, I had just lost the one thing that mattered most to me. So much for not fucking things up.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kayla
"Are you paying attention, darling? We need you to focus!" Jay Wendt shouted out angrily.
"Sorry, my cell phone was ringing. I'll turn it off," I apologized. My purse was hanging on the back of my chair in the corner, blaring the ringtone I had set for Ethan. Irritated, I turned the device off completely.
He'd been calling and texting me for the past two weeks, but I'd been ignoring every one, letting all the calls go straight to voicemail and refusing to respond to any of his texts. I didn't give a shit if he was sorry, or if he missed me, or if he thought I was sexy and longed to make love to me. I only wanted to hear one thing from him: that he was ready to open up to me with the truth.
I didn't care if it was ugly or hard to hear; I needed to hear it. I needed real intimacy and trust between us if he wanted me to trust him in the bedroom. The BDSM games he'd taught me to play were the most incredibly gratifying things I'd ever experienced, and of course I yearned for more, but they were also based on trust, and if he wouldn't be honest with me about his life, then I had to close the door on that part of our relationship, as well.
"Are you ready, darling?" Jay sighed loudly to make his annoyance clear. "I was told you were a real professional, or was that spread for Speed Magazine just because you were fucking the owner?"
"
No, I'm a professional. I can do this job. I just forgot to turn off my phone. Let's get to work." I stated with my head held high, exuding a confidence I didn't really feel. The trick worked and the director didn't give me any more flack.
"All right — music on, wind, lights, let's do this."
It didn't take me long to get into the zone, positioning myself on the bikes they brought out for me to advertise, smiling into camera's while the lights blinded me, letting my hair blow back in the breeze of the fans. By the time the photoshoot was over, I could tell the director was more that satisfied.
"Great work. We got a lot of terrific shots I know we can work with. This one looks like our billboard shot."
He showed me the photo of me posing on R.E.B.'s newest motorcycle design, leaning forward on the handlebars with my cleavage prominently displayed, looking sexy and happy. It reminded me of how I'd felt when I went riding with Ethan, and I had to look away.
I knew this was a total betrayal of me to pose for his competitor without even warning him I was doing it, but what choice did I have? This was my career, and I had been planning to tell him all about it the night we ended up breaking up. I no loyalty to Ethan Colson; he'd hired me for a one-time gig and he wasn't my boyfriend anymore. He wasn't anything to me anymore, so why did I keep thinking of him?
"Want to get a drink to celebrate? I know a place just down the street with the best live band." Jay was waiting for me when I came out of the dressing room, freshly washed and changed back into my regular clothes.
"No, thanks. I'm too tired to go drinking. I just want to put on my pajamas, eat some cold pizza, and go to bed," I said, trying not to hurt his feelings.
"I get it. Forget cold pizza, though. It's got to be hot with the cheese melting off the slice. That's the best. Have you ever eaten at Gino's? He makes his own Italian sausage, and it is heaven in your mouth."
"It sounds delicious, but you forgot the most important of my plan: eating it in my pajamas."
"I didn't forget. I've got a tee-shirt at my place you can sleep in if you want."
His intentions were clear, but I'd already made the mistake of going to bed with a man I had worked for in photoshoot, and I wasn't about to do it again.
"I'm sorry, but I really have to go home," I started to walk out the door, but he blocked my exit.
"I'll drive you."
"No, thanks."