Below Unforgiven (8 page)

“This one’s shaped all funny,” she emerged from the dressing room, holding her sides. The sequined, green gown had wide circles cut out at the hips to reveal skin, and the moment she realized it, she slapped her hands over her exposed skin and backed away.

“Wait, let me see-”

“No!”

“Vivian,” I argued, pulling her hand away. She jerked her arm out of my grasp and slammed the dressing room door.

I saw the marks on her hips before she could hide them.

“What are those? Stretch marks?”

I heard her groan. “Freshman fifteen. I don’t live in Hollywood where there’s a plastic surgeon with a laser on every corner. They’re here to stay.”

The ravine was deep and red. New.

“Try the blue one,” I ordered, letting the subject drop, sensing that it was a personal one.

“I’m stepping into it right now. But it has a zipper and I can’t reach it.”

She opened the door.

“Beaded halter neckline, empire waist, crystal details, and a long, chiffon skirt… oh, yes,” the saleswoman soared in from the front of the store, carrying an armful of gowns in Vivian’s size. “So elegant. And look at those eyes.”

I was already looking at those eyes. I wanted to look at those eyes for more than just a weekend.

The longer I stared, the more I wanted her. She was older than I originally thought, and definitely responding when I touched her (whether she liked it or not.) There was no way I could throw sex into the weekend now without this all coming back around to straight-up prostitution.

But-I wanted no complications. The last thing that I needed, especially after the email from Kelsey, was a doe-eyed, barely legal, wannabe actress falling head over heels for me. And when you’re a twenty-one-year-old girl, you’re absolutely going to believe that you’re in love with the one who’s fucking you.

That was the way of the world.

I considered calling the whole thing off and just inviting her to be my date for the weekend. But-I was already taking her away from the store, and I had already agreed to the money. I couldn’t just sleep with her all weekend and be like “hey, I have this three grand laying around, go ahead and take it.”

Obviously she was working toward something-maybe more college, maybe a place of her own. Either way, she needed the cash badly enough to agree to my offer.
Where are her parents? Why did she move here?
I’d been so hell-bent on creating my ‘character’ Vivian, I truly had no idea who she really was. I knew her grandmother was struggling on a fixed income, and she was making her granddaughter’s clothes. And Vivian was actually
wearing
them, which I found goddamn endearing.

“Why are you staring? Is it bad?”

“Turn around.”

My voice, already thick with wanting, came out breathy and low. She obliged, and the full V of her creamy skin almost made it impossible to work the zipper.

As I pulled the tiny, blue tab, watching her back disappear slowly, it was like a reverse strip-tease. Rock hard, I stood just far enough away so my erection wasn’t jammed in her back.

“You like this one?”

Her voice sent me over the edge. So innocent. She had no fucking idea what she was doing to me. Or maybe she did. I spun her around to search her expression, and sure enough, she was impatient, questioning.

“This is the one.”

“Thank god. Just pick me some shoes and let’s get the hell out of here before I see the price tag.”

Back in the car, she exhaled slowly, shaking her head at the receipt. “$353.45. Damn it. Okay, okay, that’s fine, I can find something for the dinner tonight and the brunch Sunday for under $50.”

“Don’t forget all day tomorrow, and lingerie, too.”

Her head swung in my direction so fast, I thought it’d spin right off of her pretty shoulders. “You know, I don’t dress in shorts and tank tops every day. I could find something suitable in my closet for the day tomorrow. And there is no reason for me to buy lingerie, and no way in
hell
you’re watching me try it on.”

I leaned toward her, her mouth inches from mine. “I like when you get all red and blotchy like that. You should have been born today, firecracker.”

She processed my words, and finally a slow smirk spread over her lips. “See? That one was natural. It didn’t sound forced, or clichéd, or… pedophilic.”

I burst out laughing from my gut, hard, unable to remember the last time I’d
really
laughed. I was rewarded with one of her killer smiles as I threw the car into reverse.

“I need some background on you. Tell me your qualifications.”

She looked startled for a second, finally settling back into the seat and nodding. “Okay. Like I said, I almost have a degree in acting-”

“From where?”

“Stop interrupting me and let me talk,” she protested, glaring.

I met her eyes, once, twice, before smirking and turning back to the road.

“Sorry. Go on.”

She huffed, a little too self-righteously, and began again. “From Case Western University. I almost finished the program at the Cleveland Play House before moving here. I only have one more semester, but it’s expensive, and I’m working to save up.”

“Who paid for the first part of your education? Your parents?” I urged, wanting her story faster. I wanted to climb inside her and know everything about her all at once.

“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate, so I went ahead and fired onward.

“So you’ve had what, Voice, Speech, Movement, all the basics?”

“Period styles, Stage Combat,” she nodded, looping her finger around a stray strand of hair. I was glad that she didn’t put the ponytail back in, but her absent hair twirling only continued to turn me on.

“Why didn’t you finish?”

I could almost feel the arctic wall erect itself between us. The sun rose higher in the sky, and the heat was stifling.

She was done talking about it.

“Anyway, I moved here in June, and Robin and I hit it off right away. She’s really so sweet-definitely kind of took on the role of big sister to me. Which is nice, since I don’t have any siblings.”

“Did you just refer to Robin as sweet?” Chuckling, I listened to her as I pulled into the Galleria Mall parking lot, just outside of Sears to please her.

“She
can
be sweet,” she argued, and I realized that I loved the way she defended my sister.

“And your parents are from New Florence?”

She nodded. “I used to spend weekends in the summer here, with Gram. I know your mom was involved with the church a lot, but I was too young to remember her.”

A memory tugged at the back of my mind, and I found a parking space, staring ahead. Finally, I gave in to a slow smile. “Wait-I do remember you. Your Gram brought you to church on Sundays, didn’t she? You were the little girl dressed in a different costume every week,” I said, and she shrugged.

“Yeah, that was me. Gram always indulged me. Once, I was Pocahontas for a week, and refused to say anything except
wingapo
.”

Her eyelids were heavy, and the smile that constantly tugged at her lips forced me to curve my own mouth into a grin.

I was enchanted. There was no other word for the effect she was having on me. “Wingapo… what does that mean?”

“It’s Powhatan for welcome friend.”

The sun broke through the clouds, lighting her face, and her irises turned to sapphires.

I lifted my hand, sliding my fingers along the nape of her neck. The air passed through her lips in short breaths.

“We’re at approximately fifteen hours. Can I kiss you now?”

She lowered her lashes, the long, dark fans brushing against her reddened cheeks. “Keaton, who are we doing this for? We’re alone.”

Her bare knees shifted against each other, just at the hem of her sundress. Leaning in closer, I tightened my grip on her head.

Catching her upper lip in mine, I kissed her with the slightest amount of pressure. A small sigh escaped her mouth. She tilted her face, and I pressed again, more firmly, coaxing, tasting. Her mouth gave in to mine, and I cupped her face in my palms to hold her steady as I parted her lips.

Our tongues met, mine forceful, hers tentative, and then I felt her entire body relax. My thumbs brushed over her jaw, the tips of my fingers at the base of her hairline.

She breathed my name into my mouth.

The chemical reaction was almost painful; my hard-on jammed against my zipper, my heart rate jacked like I’d bumped a line of coke, and I had to employ every ounce of self control that I possessed not to pull her into my lap.

I broke away.

She backed against the car door, covering her lips with her fingertips. I focused on the pearly shape of her fingernails, trying to manage the intense pumping of blood through my veins.

“
Okay
,” she whispered, swallowing hard and tugging on the door handle.

“Okay,” I repeated, climbing out of the car.

Charade

The mall was a scene of people and noises. A little boy cut in front of us, screaming about wanting ice cream. A group of pre-teen girls, all with hair equally long and equally flat-ironed, giggled and texted, texted and giggled, OMG, WTF, OMFG.

Facepalm.

I still tasted the coffee from his lips.

Keaton
kissed
me.

It was just a kiss.

It was different from Matthew.

Of course it was different from Matthew, he’s
not
Matthew.

You’re acting!

It was… good. Really, really, really, really
good
. Everything felt kind of floaty, and bright, with tiny rays of sunshine bursting out of my chest riding on unicorns and rainbows

“… in heels. You
can
walk in heels, right? Fuck, can you dance?”

He was back to non-stop talking about this and that, now chattering about my shoes. Stop!
Focus
. Don’t be girly and stupid.
Focus!

I turned to him, eyes narrowed. “Yes, I can dance. In heels. I can also sing, by the way. Would you like me to teach you?”

“Ouch,” he chuckled. “You like my singing.”

“Mm-hmn. Is that what that was?”

Laughing, he led me through the mall. “So tonight, I see you in a skirt, maybe a pencil skirt and a casual blouse. Black and white, classic. I-”

“… you know an awful lot about fashion,” I interrupted, relaxing-a little. “You’re sure that you wanted a
woman
for the weekend?”

He beamed, his aviators perched on his head. Suddenly, he spun me around and backed me up against the railing of the two-story mall. I was flattened between his hard chest and the rail, and there was that scent of pine again. Maybe he wore Christmas-scented deodorant.

His arms looped around my hips, so casual, and I lifted my face to his. “Hey, girlfriend. Here we are, hanging out at the mall. You dragged me here for the Fourth of July sales, but I’d much rather be chillin’ with the guys, drinking beer, blowing my fingers off with illegal fireworks in the back yard.”

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, suddenly angry for no reason. “Oh, is that the script for today?”

“You got it. Tonight, you’re witty, you’re sexy, and you’re going to blow my family away.”

“There’s a lot of blowing in your script,” I snapped.

That wicked smile only widened.

Flattening my hands on his chest, I pushed. The movement was meant to separate us, but instead, my fingers took on a life of their own. I was roving over his muscled pecs for about three seconds before I realized what I was doing, jerking my hands away.

He slapped me on the ass, and I shrieked before scowling at him.

“Come on-I need to feed you, and then we’ll power shop. I have to pick up my tux at one. We have to be on the road by four.”

I knew what was happening, but I was pissed off at my stupid, stupid emotions.

I like him. A lot. Too much.

This could be real. We could have something.

It’s all for show. A job.

I followed him through the mall, replaying his kiss in my mind a thousand times. Just a pinch of his lip on mine. Simple. Hand on neck, his mouth on my upper lip. I think I tilted my face a little to the left, and the sunlight was on my cheek.

I’d been kissed deeper-and more thoroughly-many times, but the instant flutter that began in my heart and settled in my stomach took me by surprise.

We grabbed lunch in the food court, and I decided that it was his turn for the hot seat. “Tell me about being arrested.”

He lifted his eyes, taking a sip from the Subway straw before setting the cup on the table carefully. “I was arrested for threatening my wife-and her lover-with my Smith & Wesson.”

I lowered my eyes, embarrassment washing over me. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“That you asked? Or that I did it?”

“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” I clarified, folding my sandwich paper neatly, and then organizing all of the trash on my tray. “I’m sorry that she hurt you.”

He flicked his glasses down from his forehead to his eyes, apparently not caring that he was wearing them in the middle of the mall. “I’m not. I’m glad I didn’t waste any more of my time. There’s nothing worse than being in love with someone who doesn’t give a shit about you-but doesn’t have the decency to tell you to your face.”

I thought about what his life must be like, remembering the photos on the internet of him and his wife. He always had his arm around her, in every shot of them together, and his expression was filled with pride.

She’d hurt him, bad, whether he was willing to admit that to himself or not. I could feel the cool defensiveness from him now, and felt that saying anything more would only irritate him.

So I only nodded, clearing my throat. “We should get moving.”

In no time, he bought me a gray and black pinstriped pencil skirt, a trendy, white blouse, and black pumps at The Limited. He also managed to find an overly-expensive, yellow, eyelet sundress with matching wedge sandals. For Sunday brunch, I chose cropped pants and a dark gray, wrap-front top.