Once more, that grin of his lifted. It was breathtaking. Literally. His smile was stunning. He whistled, curving his fingers around my ankle, taking a look at the heels. “No wonder you fell. Look at those things. They should be registered as deadly weapons.”
His touch against my ankle was soft and tender as his fingers brushed the straps. I jerked my foot back and scanned the VIP section. “Are you here with someone?”
Jude sank beside me, crossing an ankle over his knee. “I’m actually here to see you,” he said quietly.
My heart jumped with his admission. “Me? How’d you even know—”
“I have friends here at the club. They saw Omar’s reservation and I figured you’d be here with him.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat as guilt tweaked in my belly. For the first time since Omar and I went public with our engagement, I regretted the massive deceit. “So… you’re here to see Omar?”
His head moved slowly from right to left. “I wanted to congratulate you on the callback. Youdidget the call from your agent, right?”
I nodded, warning signs popping through my body like little teeny firecrackers going off in sequence. “Yes, a couple of hours ago.” I glanced around the club, adding, “I don’t have your watch on me, though.”
He flipped a hand in the air with a dismissive wave and then leaned back on an elbow. “Oh, I’m not worried about that.”
Goosebumps rose on my arms, but I refused to acknowledge them. With each ambiguous answer he threw at me, my blood heated more and more. “Well, then. Why don’t we cut through the bullshit and you tell me why you’rereallyhere?”
His face dropped, eyes widening before he chuckled. “All right.” Uncrossing his legs, he leaned forward on his elbows, his body—his intense presence invading my personal space. But I couldn’t be the one to lean away. Not with a man like this. The second I gave him that power, he’d eat me alive. Like the tiger Omar referenced earlier, Jude was simply waiting for the right moment to pounce.
His eyes flicked over my body, almost as if he knew exactly what I was doing by standing my ground. “You’re right,” he continued. “Let’s cut through the bullshit. There’s one other actress up for the part. Layla Hutson.”
Layla freaking Hutson? I inhaled a sharp breath. Crap. Jude’s ex-wife was my competition? Though,competitiondidn’t seem like quite the right word for it. I didn’t stand a chance when paired beside the walking Playboy Centerfold. I didn’t know much about their breakup, outside of the ridiculous footage that was blasted all over TMZ. But I knew better than anyone not to believe everything you saw or read. “So?” I tilted my chin in a false act of confidence.
“So… you and I both know that beating Layla out for this role is a long shot.”
Was he kidding with this? I snorted, shaking my head. “Well,great. Thank you so very much for coming out here tonight—where Omar and I werecelebratingthe callback—to tell me I don’t have a shot in hell at the part. Thank you, Jude Fisher. Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll take my bourbon, and my caramels, and my peonies—”
“Let mefinish,” he snapped through thinning lips. “Beating Layla at this role is a long shot,butI can help you. And with my assistance, at least you’ll be walking into the lion’s den armed rather than empty handed.”
“A couple hours ago, you told me I nailed that audition. Now I’m an unarmed Daniel in the Lion’s den?”
“I meant what I said—your audition was great. The problem is, even thoughIknow you’re perfect for the part, all the studio sees is a girl who doesn’t yet have a fan following.”
I gulped. He was right. If I went into this callback next week the same as I did today, there was no way I’d get the part. And Ineededthat part. “So, what do you suggest?” I asked quietly.
Jude’s mouth lifted into a barely there smile and he leaned in even closer. His breath was hot and he smelled of gin and peppermint. Green eyes pierced into me with an intensity beyond anything I’d ever seen in my life. “We have a week until your callback. I can teach you the BDSM lifestyle, prep you for the character, help you with your image and make it so they’ll be begging you to sign the contracts.”
Sweat gathered at the nape of my neck and a wave of prickly heat seared my cheeks. “I’m not sleeping with you,” I said bluntly.
Jude’s gaze softened, thoughtfully and he shook his head. “I’m not asking you to. How I teach you will be strictly professional. Omar can even be there, if you want.”
That was a bold move… inviting my fiancé to join us. I narrowed my eyes at him. Was it a bluff? “How are you going to teach me this lifestyle if we’re not having sex?”
As he took a long, lingering sip of his martini, our gazes locked over the edge of the glass. “The director, Ash, said something very poignant in our meeting today. He said, you can’t really learn this lifestyle through a Google search. And he’s right, Marly,” Jude said, his voice lowering as he leaned forward. “Sex is the least of BDSM. Yes, it’s a component, but anyone can have sex. It’s everything leading up to that which is important.”
Thoughts swarmed my mind. BDSM wasn’t about sex? That didn’t make sense. My expression must have shown my confusion, because Jude released a breath, and clarified some more. “BDSM is about control. It’s about the power dynamic between two people. It’s sexual in nature… but it’s not always about sex.” I wasn’t sure when it happened, but somehow, we had moved closer together. The light cotton of his dress pants brushed my bare knee, deliciously soft against my flesh. “Control,” he said again. “And it has nothing to do with a male/female power dynamic. There are female Dominants. Male submissives. Sexual orientations that vary. Above all else, BDSM is about trust. Trust and control.”
“And… pain?” I asked. Everything I knew about BDSM involved pain and punishment. Whips, paddles, ropes, that sort of thing.
If Jude was surprised by my question, he hid it well, slowly shaking his head. “Sometimes, but not always. That’s probably the biggest misconception about BDSM.” His eyes wandered over to the box of caramels and he turned his wrist over, freezing, his eyes locked on his bare flesh. Was he looking for his watch? It was at home on my nightstand. Then instead, he looked at his phone for the time. “Here’s a small taste,” he said, reaching for the caramels. “Have one.” He held the box out to me.
It felt like a trap, but I took one carefully as he gave me an encouraging nod. “Indulge me,” he said.
I unwrapped the candy and even though it was small enough to pop the whole thing in my mouth, I bit into half of it. The dark chocolate coating cracked and gooey caramel melted over my tongue in a splash of creamy sweetness. I closed my eyes, sighing as a burst of salt sprinkled on the top contrasted with the decadent caramel. I swallowed, eating the second bite and sucking the little bit of melted chocolate from my fingers. When I opened my eyes, I found Jude’s gaze affixed to my mouth. Darting out my tongue, I licked the corners of my lips, wiping away any excess chocolate that may have gotten on me. “Okay…” I said carefully, shifting against the plush bench. “Not sure how this fits into BDSM.” I reached out to take another caramel from the box, but he swiftly slid it out of reach.
His smile was gone. Replaced with an intense expression that had his eyebrows low over his eyes and his mouth dipping in a way that wasn’t quite a frown, but also definitely wasn’t a smile. “I had to see what you look like when enjoying these. And if I was your Dominant, I might tell you to have only one more caramel tonight. At exactly 10:45.” He leaned over, taking one wrapped caramel and dropping it into his breast pocket. “And at exactly 10:45, I’ll have my caramel. We may still be here at the club, looking at each other from across the room. Or I may be gone already, but no matter where, we will be sharing this caramel together.”
