His Dream Role (5 page)

By the time they separated, they were both breathless. Her chest rose and fell in time with his. “
You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how
.” He paused before stepping away from her. “
Gone with the Wind
.”

A slow smile crept onto her face. “I think you have that covered.”

She licked her lips and the sight of her wet tongue made him want to do much more than kiss her.

“Monday at the coffee shop?” she asked, her breathing still irregular.

“I'll be there.” He took another step back, this time allowing enough distance for them both to catch a deep breath. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

“I'd like that.”

He waited in the hall until she went into her apartment and locked the door. He might've been walking a little funny on the way to the elevator because his dick was hard, but that kiss had been well worth any amount of discomfort. It made him wish he'd spoken to Samantha sooner than he had.

The holidays were quickly approaching and they didn't know each other well enough to do the family thing, but that meant he might not see much of her. They would just have to squeeze in as much time as possible around family commitments. He immediately began cataloguing what he needed to attend. Unfortunately, rehearsals were only going to become a bigger part of his life, and for once, he wanted to ignore acting.

S
queezing in time together proved more difficult than Free thought. Although they spoke every day, and texted often, other than their fleeting meetings over coffee, Free hadn't spent any time with Samantha. They were both swamped with end-of-the-semester assignments and work. But at least they'd been able to share some kisses over their coffee. Most days, they preferred that to conversation.

Free had had enough. He texted Sam to see if she would come with him to his rehearsal tonight. Then, they could go out, or stay in, and have some time together. Her response made her sound as excited as he was at the prospect of having more than fifteen minutes together.

Samantha was waiting in line at the coffee shop as usual. He crossed the room and kissed her cheek.

She pulled at the front of his jacket and peered down. “Who are you today?”

He smiled and opened his coat. “Han Solo.” He whipped out the blaster from his holster.

“Cute boots. From a distance, I thought maybe a pirate, but the hair's a little wrong.”

“No Jack Sparrow for me. Smuggler, pirate, not too different.”

“Take off your jacket.”

“Why?”

“So I can take a picture to add to my collection.”

He did as he was told and she snapped a couple of pictures on her phone.

They ordered their coffee and instead of sitting, took it straight to his car. “So what made you invite me to rehearsal?”

“I want to spend time with you, and the play is going to fill my next two weekends. Then it's the holidays.”

“I'm glad you did. I can't wait to see you in action up on the stage.”

Although rehearsals were usually laid-back and there were often outsiders watching, Free had never invited anyone to rehearsals. He rarely invited people to come to the actual performances. His mother insisted on coming to every play he'd ever done, but she loved the theater. He was fine performing, but he didn't like people he knew watching.

They got to the small theater a few minutes early, so Free gave Samantha a quick tour and then situated her in the audience. He changed into his costume and did a few warm-ups. He focused on the words he needed to say instead of on the beautiful woman waiting for him.

They ran through the play in one set, with few interruptions from the director. The cast and crew had been at this long enough that they were ready for opening night tomorrow. By the time rehearsal was over, Free wanted nothing more than a shower and a cold drink. Then he thought of Samantha and knew he wanted a whole lot more. He grabbed his bag and went to the audience to look for her.

She sat exactly where he'd left her hours ago. He should've checked on her during the performance.

“Hey,” he called as he crossed the row of seats to get to her.

“Oh my God. That was so interesting. I've never seen the behind-the-scenes stuff of a performance before. And you are an excellent Fred. I didn't realize that this was an updated version of the story.” She stood and gathered her coat as she spoke.

“The writer thought Dickens was too out of reach for a lot of people, mainly kids, so he wanted to update the story without losing the feel of it.”

“Are you done?”

“Yeah. What would you like to do?” He swung his bag over his shoulder. “I'd like to take a shower, if you don't mind. It's been a long day with classes, the gym with Cary, and rehearsal.”

She walked down the aisle beside him. Pointing to his bag, she asked, “Do you have clothes in there?”

He nodded.

“How about we go to my place, then? You can shower and change and we can order in some dinner.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” He took her hand as they exited the theater.

On the drive to her apartment, she asked more about his costumes and Cary. They talked about how he decided on his costumes—his favorite characters who had simple clothes. She laughed when he talked about rarely being the Riddler because tights were
not
comfortable.

She surprised him by saying, “Riddler is my favorite villain.”

“Why?”

“His disguise might not have been the best, but he always made Batman think. Nothing was simple with him.”

He wasn't surprised that intelligence impressed her.

She leaned over and ran a hand along his thigh. His dick twitched in response.

“Would you wear it for me?”

“What?”

“The Riddler costume.”

Christ. If she kept moving her hand up his thigh, he'd do anything she asked. “Maybe.”

She giggled and told him to park in her spot, which made him wonder about her car. “You don't drive?”

“I can. I have a license and all, but no car right now. Living and working in the city, I found I don't really need one. Public transportation works, and if I'm in a bind, I grab a cab.”

“Did you grow up in the city?”

She hesitated at the elevator before answering. “Lake Forest. How about you?”

She said it like she was embarrassed, as if coming from a wealthy suburb was a bad thing. “I grew up in the city. North side, until I moved in with Cary for college.”

Once they got in the elevator, Samantha stepped close to him and backed him against the wall. She pulled at the front of his jacket until he lowered his mouth to kiss her. Just as he deepened the kiss, the elevator stopped on her floor. Still gripping his jacket, she led him down the hall. She didn't let go until they were at her door and she had to unlock it.

There was something sexy about being led around by a hot girl. Samantha had a plan for their night, and Free wasn't about to interrupt it. She waited for him to walk through the door, then she shut it and grabbed him again. He liked a woman who knew what she wanted.

This time he pressed her against the wall because he enjoyed the feel of her under him. His dick got hard thinking about her naked. He couldn't wait to strip all of her clothes away.

“I missed this,” he whispered against her neck.

She sighed as his tongue touched her pulse point. Her hips rocked against him. He wanted to have sex with her, but not down and dirty against her door. He pulled away and couldn't help but notice her shallow breathing. “Why don't you order dinner? I'll take my shower.”

“Are you kidding? You're stopping?”

Free braced a hand on the wall near her head. “That was simply my hello-I've-missed-you kiss. We have all night to explore other things.”

She ducked under his arm and walked away. Over her shoulder, she said, “I'll hold you to that.”

He hung his coat on a hook near the door and picked his bag up from where he'd dropped it during their kiss. His dick was hard and uncomfortable in his tight pants. He couldn't wait to get them off. “Bathroom?” he asked as he reached the kitchen.

“Around the corner on the left. Towels are in the cabinet.”

He entered the bathroom, and it was obviously a woman's room. Makeup, perfume, and lotions were scattered across the top of the counter. He picked up the bottle of lotion and sniffed. The scent drove more blood south and his dick throbbed. He twisted the knobs in the shower and stripped while the water warmed.

Inside the tub wasn't any better. Samantha's scent surrounded him in her shampoo and soap. He used a bit of her body wash and cleaned up. He wrapped his hand around his dick and stroked. He needed some release or he wouldn't get through dinner with her. He closed his eyes and imagined her standing in front of him, pulling him closer.

He pumped his hand faster, water sluicing over him. His balls tightened.

A knock at the door made him freeze, which was nearly as painful as being stuffed in his jeans.

“Find everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Be out in a minute.” Fuck. He slowed his stroke, needing to finish. He hoped she wouldn't come in. She would think he was a total freak with no self-control.

“All right. Holler if you need anything.”

What he needed was to come. Her voice shot through him, increasing his need. He pumped his fist quickly and spurted his release. He swallowed the groan that crawled up from his chest. He immediately felt guilty for doing that in Samantha's shower, but at least he wouldn't embarrass himself with her later. Making sure he left no signs of what he'd done, he finished the shower in record time. After drying, he pulled on his clean clothes.

Shoving his costume in his bag, he carried it and his holster to the living room.

Sam looked up from her seat on the couch and couldn't help but smile. Free came out of the bathroom with his hair wet and messy, wearing a T-shirt and jeans with his holster slung over his shoulder. He was totally adorkable.

And a huge part of her regretted not getting in the shower with him. He'd sounded surprised when she asked if he had everything he needed and he offered no invitation. Looked like she'd have to put out the invite tonight.

“I ordered Chinese. Hope that's okay with you.”

“I'm starving, so you could feed me just about anything right now and I'd be happy.” He dropped his bag next to the couch and balanced the holster on top. He sat down beside her, stretching his legs into her space. “How was your week?”

“Okay, I guess.”

He leaned forward, bracing his elbow on his leg. “What's wrong?”

She hadn't thought she let any of her depression slip, but Free managed to catch it. “It's a sad time of year.”

“The holidays?”

“Yeah.” She quickly waved her hand. “Not for me. For the women and kids in the shelter. They don't have much to look forward to.”

“I bet it's hard.”

“The thing is, the kids, the women, they put on this brave face, like none of it matters. To a certain degree, I understand. For some of them, the lack of certainty about their lives is better than the violence they left. It's their shot at freedom. But to have nothing . . .” Her throat tightened every time she thought about it.

“They have you and the others at the shelter for support.”

“Yeah, I know.” She still questioned how much good she was really doing. She wasn't sure how well she could relate to these women. “We arranged with a local YMCA to do a giving tree. You know, where the women write down what gift they'd like to get for Christmas? Then anonymous donors grab a tag from the tree and buy that gift.”

“So they'll have something on Christmas.”

“But they asked for things like dress shoes for work or cleaning supplies for their apartment. A new rug because the floor is cold.”

“Maybe the donors will get them something special in addition to the necessities.”

She hoped so. Although she didn't believe that the holidays required big, expensive gifts, she'd never gone without and couldn't imagine Christmas being just another day.

Free reached out and slid her hair away from her face. His finger stroked her cheek. “You can only do what you can. Have you talked to my mom?”

Sam nodded slowly, unwilling to break the contact with his hand. “I actually had her talk to the director so they can hash out the details. She sounded nice. Your mom.”

“She is.”

“This conversation is pretty depressing. Let's talk about something else until our food gets here.”

His fingers trailed over her jaw and down her neck. Anticipation shot through her.

“I can think of other things we can do besides talk.”

“But then we'll get interrupted.”

He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. As soon as their lips met, she wanted more. More of what she stole in the elevator. Definitely more of what he'd given pressed up against her door. She wanted more of him.

With a gentle hand on his chest, she pushed. “Tell me about your dad.”

“Huh?” His gaze was unfocused.

She scooted back on the couch to gain some distance and perspective. For days they'd been talking a lot, but mostly about her. He revealed very little about himself. “You don't talk much about your family. Except Cary. I almost feel like I know him. What about your parents?”

He shook his head as if to clear it and turned his body to sit straight. “My mom's an actress, or at least she used to be. She's still involved with the theater as much as she can, but she doesn't audition anymore. My dad's an investment banker. He has his own firm.”

“And Cary works with him?”

“Yeah. Cary's his right hand. As soon as Cary graduated from college, he started bringing in clients. He's got a way with people. Everyone likes him.”

Sam felt the undercurrent of what Free wasn't saying. Everyone liked Cary, not him. Her bell rang and she jumped up. “I think the best thing about living in the city is getting whatever kind of food you want delivered.”