Page 48

Instead of seeing words on a page, I hear an argument in my head. “You’re a certified asshole.”
“And you’re one hell of an actress.”
That confrontation with Jackson derails any possibility of getting through this, especially after last night. Jackson must read my mind as he says, “I think it might be a good idea if Chelsea and I get a chance to read through these before trying to act them out.”
Birdie tilts her head in thought. “Good point. I’ve worked on them so much that I’ve probably memorized everything. The precise scripting isn’t as important as the overall leading. You guys read through and work on these. Change whatever you want to be more natural.”
Birdie stands to leave, but not before I catch the concerned look she aims my way.
Jackson closes and locks the door behind her and kneels in front of my chair. “Talk to me, Chelsea.”
I shake my head, embarrassed about falling apart over a simple assignment.
Jackson shifts and then, “Eyes up, Marine!”
On their own, my face and eyes lift in response to the command.
“You were given an order. What’s keeping you from carrying it out?”
I’ve never heard Jackson use that tone, though I’m sure his men have plenty. I drop my eyes to the papers in my lap, refusing to look at him.
Jackson barks, “I asked you a question, Captain Danforth.”
My eyes squeeze shut briefly before I pick up the papers and hold them between my fingers in disgust. “I’ve been every one of these people in my life, but I don’t know who the hell I am now.”
Jackson grabs my face with both hands and slams his mouth against mine.
Jackson
Chelsea’s kiss is a spiritual experience. Every touch of her lips is a divine encounter, an altar I’d gladly sacrifice myself on every day for the rest of my life.
I don’t know how I got here, how I fell so fast, and I no longer care. This woman belongs to me, and I’ll wait as long as it takes for her to accept it.
Chelsea pulls away and brings a hand up to cover her mouth. “What are you doing?”
“Tell me what you’re thinking. Right now.”
“I…”
“No. Don’t stop to think. Give it to me.”
Chelsea sighs, and the sound couldn’t be more erotic. “Warm.”
Her eyes are closed, but she’s not hiding. Her face screams her emotions.
“That’s good. What else?” I nearly beg.
“Why?”
“That’s not a thought. That’s a question. I don’t want questions. I want a reaction.”
Chelsea’s eyes spring open. “You want my reaction? Okay. How’s this? Suspicion. Curiosity. Longing. Wariness. Insecurity.”
Her voice grew quieter with each word until she looked away and whispered the last. And now, we get to the heart of the matter. I’m confused, though. I thought we’d turned a corner.
My gut reaction is to swear that I would never hurt her, but I don’t. Words mean nothing to someone who was manipulated and hurt by them. And as much as I want to unpack each part of Chelsea’s whispered confession, now isn’t the time to do it. Chelsea needs an out.
“While I’m intrigued by the longing part, I figure it’s time to get back to work. You say you’ve been all these women over the years. Show me what you’ve got. And you can stop claiming we’re not friends because you know we are.”