Page 20 of Role Play
I snorted into the bottle of water I was sipping. “You’re kidding, right?Lookatme.”
He turned a quick glance at me. “I’m looking,” he said slowly. Quietly. The air between us tightened and buzzed to life. “I’vebeenlooking the whole damn day. So, tell me… what made you choose costumedesign?”
I cleared my throat, trying to find my voice. “Let’s ignore the fact that I’m not exactly the Hollywood standard forbeauty—”
“Well, the Hollywood standard is bullshit,” Ash said. “But that’s beside the point. Because you are beautiful. You are movie star beautiful. ButHollywoodbeautiful is just a stupid myth that involves contouring and heels and fucking Photoshop. If you strip any of those actresses of their makeup and see them on a regular day in their t-shirts and jeans…” his voice faded and when he spoke again, it was more gruff. “Let’s just say, you put them toshame.”
A tortuous flame ignited in my core. It managed to be both deliciously satisfying and also terrifying.Whatwas happening here? He thinks I’m beautiful. He doesn’t see a plain Jane and mousy brown hair and giant rectangularspecs.
“So, I’ll ask again,” Ash said. “And I expect an honest answer… why costumedesign?”
Vulnerability stabbed through me, rising from my core and ballooning up my chest. “I—I don’t know. I’ve always loved dressing other people. Probably because I was never allowed to choose what I wore myself, so instead, I would dress myBarbies.”
Ash’s brows tightened. “You weren’t allowed to choose yourclothes?”
I shook my head. “My mom was…strict.”
He frowned at the statement, his mouth tightening at the corners, but he didn’t press any further. “So… dressing Barbie was your outlet,” hesaid.
I sighed in relief that I didn’t have to go further into my relationship with my mom. At least, not right this second. “Yep. I didn’t believe that Executive Barbie would wear a pink suit. So I created a new work outfit for her in navy blue. I just had an eye for it. And when Andrea started to sew, she would make the clothes, and together we would create these characters—these looks from random pallets of fabric that we found in the dollar bin at JoAnn Fabrics.” I chuckled and shook myhead.
“What’s sofunny?”
“I’m just remembering how Andrea would take the clothes my mom made me wear and she would alter them. Like, she took this a-line skirt my mom bought me and sewed these little hooks on the inside so that when we went to school, I could tuck the hem into the hooks and it became this trendy and cute asymmetricskirt.”
“She sounds like a goodfriend.”
“Thebest.”
There was a brief pause before Ash said, “So, being on stage as one of the characters never really crossed yourmind?”
“Nope. Never. Besides, I could never give up sweets like this in order to be an actress.” I paused to take another bite of the brownie and moaned. “Oh my God. Seriously… you have to try this. Your friend is ridiculouslytalented.”
“Break me off a piece and pop it in my mouth.” He opened his mouth. His lips looked soft, wet, and pliable and I wanted so badly to press mine against them. To close my eyes and sink into the feeling as they slid their way down my neck, dropping kisses all down my body until eventually they landed between mylegs.
Well, shit. I was staring again, this time at his open mouth. And he knew it based on the way it curved toward his eyes. Swallowing a curse, I tore a section off the corner and reached to the left. The small car made it so I didn’t have to lean far. I wanted those lips. Wanted them so bad, I could already taste them—could imagine remnants of scotch and chocolate from the brownie he was about to eat clinging to his mouth. If this was what desire felt like? I needed more of it. Needed more of the intoxicating rumble of his voice and the soft ripple of lust I felt in mybelly.
With each passing second, I felt my resolve evaporating. As I extended my arm, brownie pinched in my fingers, I reached just a little further than I needed to and brushed my knuckles against his lips. Pleasure kicked through me from the tips of my fingers as I placed the brownie on his tongue, which he extended out to meet my touch. With a flick, his wet, silky tongue curved around my finger as he sucked the brownie from mygrasp.
He moaned a desperate, wicked sound as I withdrew my finger from the tight pucker of his mouth. I crossed my legs tight, squeezing against the throbbing ache in my damppanties.
“Fuck, that was good,” Ash said, swallowing. And I was pretty damn sure he didn’t mean the brownie. “So… you have a sweet tooth,” he said. “What’s your favorite meal? Like… real food. Not junkfood.”
“Clams,” I answered automatically, then laughed at the look Ash gave me. “I know… it’s a weird answer. But my mom used to make them for me on my birthday. She’d make her own chowder. Or pan fry them with jalapeños and roasted corn. Other times, we’d put them on tortillas and have them as tacos. I could eat clams for every meal and behappy.”
“Clams,” he repeated. “And you were only allowed to have them on yourbirthday?”
“Birthday or a special occasion, like when I made honorroll.”
He maintained his confused look. “I mean, I could understand that with something that was a huge splurge, like pizza, but clams can be healthy,right?”
They can be. But not the way I liked them. Simmering in a creamy chowder. Or buttery linguini. And I didn’t know if I was ready to reveal just yet how intense Mom was… well,is. How she would measure out my food, down to the teaspoon. How we would have weekly weigh-ins together, and the disapproving scowl that would mar her forehead every time I went up a dress size. I copped out, and answered, “Well, they were expensive and we didn’t have a lot of money.” This wasn’t entirely a lie. Even before dad left, we only had clams on specialoccasions.
“Okay,” Ash said, his smile returning. “Clams, itis.”
I never thought the word could sound so fucking sexy. But Ash Livingston sayingclamsjust about had me spreading my legs and offering himmyclam.
Could I actually do this? Casual sex with my boss? It was amazing how drastically I had shifted in the course of only a few minutes. Back in the bar? I’d been convinced it would never happen. No way, no how. But now? Maybe it was the vodka. Maybe it was our easy, light banter. But I felt an inexplicable draw to this man. A chemistry I hadn’t felt in years… maybe ever. That thick desire pulsing through my body was too strong to ignore. I never indulged in it. And maybe it was time. I was a woman with needs. And he… well, he was gorgeous and radiated with raw, sexualneed.
