Читать книгу Red - Erica Spindler, Erica Spindler - Страница 16

By the time Jack got home, the rush of adrenaline and anger that had enabled him to boldly face down Giovanni had evaporated, leaving in its wake shaking hands, a runaway heart and legs that felt like rubber.

Jack fell onto his bed and struggled to draw in a deep, even breath. He couldn’t put his mother’s face, her stricken expression, out of his mind. Giovanni had blamed her for her son’s actions. He had threatened to fire her, had warned that if he did, no one else in the industry would hire her.

The last hadn’t been an idle threat. He had seen the cold determination in the photographer’s eyes. Giovanni didn’t care about Sallie Gallagher or her livelihood; he wouldn’t think twice about ruining her professional reputation.

And, Jack knew, it wouldn’t take much. Getting fired once could do it. The fashion industry was a small one, one in which everyone knew everybody else’s business. He’d seen people from every area of the business have to fight their way back after having screwed up once. Time was money, the client’s money. And clients paid astronomical day rates for models and photographers and support personnel. One major shoot could cost upward of a hundred thousand dollars. Everyone had to do their job, do it well and quickly.

Jack glared at his ceiling, at the long, thin crack that ran diagonally across it. Dammit. He’d really messed things up for her. He hadn’t thought further than himself, hadn’t considered the consequences of his actions or that they might affect anyone else. It had never even occurred to him. It did now.

Gina. He squeezed his eyes shut, arousal charging through him. She had told him to “catch her later” and had promised to teach him French.

French. Did that mean what he thought it did?

Tonight could be the night. It could happen, he could lose his virginity.

He sat up and dragged his hands through his hair, his head filled with images of Gina: Gina smiling at him; Gina, her body outlined by clinging satin; Gina, her lips moist and parted. He sucked in a sharp breath. He’d been waiting his whole life for this opportunity. He wasn’t about to miss it.

Four hours later, Jack glanced at the stove, at the pot of Ragú spaghetti sauce that bubbled there. He had made a salad, Italian bread was buttered and ready for the oven.

Where was she? He looked at the clock and frowned. Almost six-thirty. At five, everyone connected with a shoot either went home or on overtime. And overtime was avoided at all costs.

So, where was she?

Even as the question moved through his head for the dozenth time, he heard the front door open. Show time. He took a deep breath, suddenly feeling six instead of sixteen. “Hey, Mom,” he called. “I’m in here.”

She came into the kitchen. Without looking at him, she dropped her purse on the counter and reached for the mail.

He cleared his throat. “Hi, Mom.”

She lifted her gaze from the mail and fixed it on him. She didn’t smile. “Hello, son.”

He swallowed hard. She was still angry. And she was hurt. He felt like a complete jerk. “I made dinner.”

“I see that.” She returned her attention to the mail. “It looks good.”

She said nothing more, and he shifted from his right foot to his left, her silence damning and uncomfortable. Unable to take it another moment, he cleared his throat again. “I’m sorry, Mom. I really am.”

She met his eyes. “Are you?”

He hung his head and stubbed the toe of his Nike against the tile floor.

“I can’t tell you how upset I am by this.” She made a sound of frustration. “What were you thinking of? Disobeying me that way, behaving like that at a shoot? You know better.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, folding his arms across his chest but hiking his chin up stubbornly. “I didn’t think. I just…reacted.”

“Do you see now why I didn’t want you there? Do you understand?” She crossed to the stove and stared at the pot of sauce for long moments, then turned to face him once more, her expression troubled. “Did you get it out of your system, Jack? Do you think you can leave it alone now?”

“What do you mean?” He drew his eyebrows together. “Get what out of my system?”

“Carlo, Giovanni, the whole thing. This obsession you have isn’t healthy. I sympathize, I do. But—”

“Obsession?” he interrupted. “You think I’m obsessed with them? Great, Mom. Just great.”

“What do you expect me to think?” She crossed to stand before him and looked him directly in the eye. “Why do you want to be a fashion photographer?”

“It has nothing to do with him.” He glared at her, so angry he could hardly speak. “I…I just like it. It’s cool.”

“Oh, Jack.”

“I hate when you say my name like that, as if you pity me.” He spun away from her, crossed to the refrigerator, then faced her once more, fists clenched. “What do you expect me to feel? Shouldn’t I be curious about my half brother? Shouldn’t I wonder about him? Is that so weird? Maybe you’d understand if your mother had put you in the same position. But she didn’t, did she?”

Sallie flinched at the blow. “You have to let your anger and your hurt go, Jack. You say I can’t understand them, but I think I can. You have to let them go.”

She crossed the room and stopped in front of him. She reached out to touch his cheek, but he jerked his head away. “Don’t let your anger at Giovanni, or me, control your life. If you do, it’ll ruin it.”

She didn’t understand, Jack thought. He wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t even angry. He hated Giovanni. And he was going to show him what a big mistake he had made.

“You know about that. Right, Mom? About ruining lives.”

She took a step back from him, looking as if he had slapped her.

Remorse barreled through him, but he knew it was too late to take back his words.

“How have I ruined your life?” she asked softly. “By having you? By loving you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, stuffing his hands into his front jeans pockets. “I didn’t mean that.”

“But I think you did. And that’s why I’m worried.”

“Mom—”

“No.” She held up a hand. “No more. Not now.” She glanced at her watch and sighed. “There are some things I need to discuss with you, but I can’t now. I’m going out tonight.”

“Out?” Jack repeated, surprised. His mother rarely went out at night. She spent so much time on location out of town that when in town, she enjoyed being home.

“I’m meeting an old friend.” She slipped out of her vest and hung it on the back of one of the chairs set up around the small oak table. “You’ve never met her. She got out of the business right around the time you were born.”

“She was a makeup artist, too?”

“She did hair. She opened her own salon fifteen years ago and has done quite well.”

Jack frowned. Something about his mother’s tone bothered him. “Why are you meeting her?”

She met his gaze, drawing her eyebrows together. “I told you, she’s an old friend. Besides, it’s not your place to question me. I’m the parent here, and you’re in big trouble.”

“But Mom—”

“No buts.” She crossed to the phone. “I’m calling Mrs. Green next door to let her know I’m going out and to ask her to check up on you.”

“Check up on me?” Jack squared his shoulders, outraged. “I’m sixteen, not twelve.”

“Then act it.” She picked up the phone. “You’re not to leave the house. No television tonight, no phone, no stereo.”

No Gina. He took a step toward her, hand out in entreaty. “But, Mom, I wanted to ask if I could go—”

“No way.” She punched out the neighbor’s number, then propped the phone to her ear with her shoulder. “You’re grounded.”

Grounded? He bristled. She had never done that to him before, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

When she got off the phone, they ate dinner. Quickly and without conversation. They straightened up the kitchen together, then she went to freshen up. While she did, Jack thought about Gina, about her invitation and about the evening’s possibilities.

The evening had no possibilities, he reminded himself glumly. He was grounded. Swearing under his breath, he dragged out the phone book and looked up Gina’s number.

He found it, picked up the phone, then returned the receiver to its cradle without dialing. He wasn’t going to cancel his date.

Mrs. Green never heard a thing. He called the woman early, told her he wasn’t feeling well and was going to turn in. Although only eight, it sounded as if he had awakened her. Some watchdog. He slipped out of the apartment and headed down the street to Tony’s, the Italian restaurant where he worked. Danny, one of the other busboys, had offered to lend Jack his wheels before. Tonight, Jack was going to take him up on his offer.

With a promise to have the car back by midnight, he started off. Gina lived in the Hollywood Hills, located in the foothills of the Santa Monica Mountains. He found her house without a problem, though it took longer than he had expected.

Grabbing the stack of textbooks—none of them French—he started up her walkway. He prayed she was here and wasn’t too mad that he was late.

Gina opened the door before he had a chance to knock. She wore a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a chambray shirt, tucked into her denims and unbuttoned at her throat. He moved his gaze over her, his chest tight. “You look…great.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“Sorry. It was tough getting out tonight.”

“Your mom’s really pissed, huh?”

“You could say that.” Gina stepped aside so he could enter. He looked around. The house was modest in size but very nice; the wall across from the door was covered with framed copies of Gina’s ads and magazine covers.

“My mother’s wall of glory,” she murmured, following his gaze.

He returned his gaze to her. “Where is she?”

“Out with her boyfriend.” Gina made a face. “The guy’s a sleaze ball.”

Her mother was out? Jack’s pulse began to thud. “She didn’t mind that I was coming over?”

“She didn’t know, and she won’t be home till late. She never is.” Gina grinned and motioned with her head. “Come on.”

She led him to the back of the house, to a large, comfortable room outfitted with leather furniture, light oak paneling and wall-to-wall bookshelves. “This was my dad’s room before he left. I spend a lot of time in here.”

“Your dad left?”

“A couple years ago. He’s living in Laguna now with his girlfriend.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Mom says it’s a case of arrested development. Sharla isn’t much older than I am.” Gina shuddered. “I have friends older than she is.”

“I’m sorry.”

Gina shrugged and plopped down onto a big couch. She patted the seat next to her. “Sit by me.”

He swallowed, his throat dry, and realized he was nervous. He berated himself silently. He would bet Carlo was never nervous. He would bet that by now, Carlo would have already gotten his hand in her pants.

Disgusted with himself, Jack crossed and sat on the couch. He turned to face her, and threaded his fingers through her silky blond hair. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

She flushed, pleased. Cupping the back of her head, he drew her toward him and kissed her, slowly and deeply. She sighed and wound her fingers in his hair.

He ended the kiss, but didn’t release her or move away. “I’ve been fantasizing about doing that since the last time.”

Her lips curved up. “Then why don’t you do it again?”

Jack didn’t have to be asked twice. He caught her mouth, then her tongue. Gina didn’t waste any time. Their lips pressed together, she unbuttoned his shirt. When she’d pushed it off his shoulders, she started unbuttoning her own.

He pushed her hands away, and with shaking fingers did it for her. Within moments, she was nude from the waist up. Jack gazed at her perfect breasts, at their soft fullness, at her nipples, standing straight out, begging for his mouth, and he struggled to get his breath. He thought he might explode just looking at her.

“You can touch them,” she whispered, straddling his lap.

With a groan, he cupped her breasts, then buried his face in them. She smelled like flowers and felt like heaven. He breathed deeply, his heart thundering in his chest, the pulse in his head.

She rocked against him, her soft pelvis to his hard one, his arousal painfully evident. He sucked in a ragged breath and shifted his hips. “Oh, God, Gina…” He groaned and moved against her again.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and nipped his earlobe. “Did you bring a rubber?”

His heart stopped, then started again with a vengeance. He’d blown it! Shit, shit… How could he have been such an idiot?

Groaning, he dropped his head against the couch back. “I didn’t…uh…think that we were—”

“Going to do it?”

“Yeah.”

She rested her hands on his shoulders. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

Jack flushed, thought about lying, but figured he wouldn’t get away with it. He nodded. “Are you?”

“Nope. Lost it at fourteen. To my uncle.”

“Your uncle?” Jack repeated, swallowing hard. “Did he, you know?”

“Rape me?” She shook her head. “Nothing like that. And it’s not as bad as it sounds. He’s my father’s brother by his father’s second marriage. He was only twenty-four.”

She leaned into him and her breasts pressed against his chest. It felt so incredible, he thought he was going to die. “Does that bother you?” she asked.

“That you did it with your uncle?”

“No.” She rocked her pelvis against his once more. “That I’m not a virgin.”

Jack couldn’t see why it would bother a guy. After all, the two of them fumbling their way through the act couldn’t be nearly as pleasurable as her guiding him would be. He shook his head. “Does it bother you that I am?”

“I think it’s sweet. I’ve never been anybody’s first before.” She walked her fingers up his chest. “I liked the way you stood up to The Great One today.”

He smiled. “Yeah?”

“It was a real turn-on. I never saw anybody stand up to him before.”

“Maybe more people should.” He slipped his arms around her and stroked her back. “He’s an arrogant asshole.”

“So, do you want to do it?”

He wanted to do it so bad, he felt as if he were going to explode. He forced back the frenzy building inside him. “What about…protection?”

She thought for a moment, then grinned. “We’re safe. No way am I getting pregnant tonight.”

Thank God. He had waited so long for this.

They came together in a frenzy of mutual excitement. Jack moved his hands, then his mouth, over her. Her skin was soft and warm and white. And so smooth. He cupped and kneaded and stroked her breasts. He nipped and licked her nipples, liking the way they drew into tight buds, not able to get enough.

She fell onto her back, dragging him with her. He ran his fingers over her curves and valleys, he slipped his hand under the waistband of her jeans, not stopping until he reached the crisp curls at the apex of her thighs. He dipped his hand in, touching a woman for the first time. She was unbelievably hot there, and wet. He slipped his fingers into her and she cried out, throbbing against his hand.

He almost came in his pants. He took his hands away from her long enough to strip out of his clothes, his jeans almost impossible to get off because of his erection. She wiggled out of her jeans, too, and after she kicked them aside, she drew him on top of her, then inside her.

She was hot and wet and tight. The breath hissed from his lungs. So this is what it’s all about, he thought, amazed, stunned. No wonder…no wonder…

He would never be the same, he knew. In the space of a heartbeat, his life was changed forever. This thing, this act, was more powerful than anything he had ever experienced or felt, with the exception of his hatred for Giovanni. And where his hatred for Giovanni ate at him, this released him. He suddenly understood things he hadn’t before—why his mother had done what she’d done, why she had gotten involved with a man who didn’t love her, why men and women hurt each other, why they clung to each other.

With understanding, some of his anger slipped away. His mother hadn’t had a choice, this pull was too strong to deny.

He didn’t know how he had lived so long without this. He knew he would never be able to live without it again.

Her body caressed his, stroked his. He moved instinctively, racing toward release, too involved in his own pleasure, and wonder, to think about hers. And then it was over, quicker than he would have liked. Much quicker.

He ran his fingers over her face, already thinking about doing it again, wondering if she would. Wondering now, too late, if she had been satisfied, worrying that she hadn’t.

He had read things, had heard the models talk about which guys were the best lovers, which ones took the time to make them happy. He wanted Gina to be happy. He wanted to be one of the photographers they whispered about and called a fantastic lover. The way they whispered about Giovanni.

Her eyes were closed. He cleared his throat, and she looked at him. “Was it…okay for you? I…hope it was.”

She smiled, her eyes filling with tears. “Yeah. Thanks for asking. Nobody has before.”

He frowned and threaded his fingers through her hair. “Nobody?”

“Uh-uh. We were always more rushed.” She slipped her hands behind his neck, her expression somehow sad. “Except for the first time, it was always on location. So we had to hurry. And be careful not to muss my face and hair.”

He wanted to ask who she had made it with. The question pushed at him, but he fought it back. He rolled onto his side so they faced each other. He wasn’t surprised, not really. He knew what went on between models, photographers and about everyone else associated with the business.

It was just that Gina was so young and that until this year—as was industry practice—her mother had accompanied her to every go-see, every shoot. He asked her about it.

She nuzzled her face into his shoulder. “Mother and I have been doing this so long, she doesn’t notice much anymore. Besides, she’s so caught up in the whole thing, I don’t think she would have minded if she had known I was doing it with Giovanni.”

Jack stiffened, and she smiled. “I know what you’re thinking, that he’s so old. But he’s still sexy. He makes it with everybody. Besides, it was kind of a thank-you for using me that first time.”

“You’ve only done it with him once?”

“Uh-huh.” She lifted her chin. “Did you know, I was the youngest one there today. Of all the girls, I had the least experience.”

He didn’t reply and after a moment, she drew her eyebrows together, studying him silently. “Does that…gross you out or anything?”

He thought of her doing it with Giovanni and wanted to retch. But he supposed he could understand. Giovanni was a powerful force in the fashion community; he could do a model many favors. So he lied. “Why should it?”

“Well, I heard something today. Can I ask you about it?” Jack had an idea what she had heard but told her to ask anyway. “I heard that you’re his son. Giovanni’s.”

“His bastard son. Yeah, it’s true.”

“Wow. I’ve never known one of those before. A bastard,” she said as if testing the sound on her tongue. “What’s it like?”

He shrugged nonchalantly as if he had never thought about it before. “I don’t know. It’s just the way it is.”

“It’s pretty cool.” She sat up and stretched, her breasts lifting with the movement. He became instantly erect. “Did you know that Kim got a nose job free for doing it with a plastic surgeon she met at an agency party? Sara’s decided she’s going to get some tits. I might get a boob job, too. What do you think?”

He thought he was going to pop off just looking at her. He reached up and cupped her breasts. “I think they’re perfect.”

“They’re too small.” She arched her back as he moved his hands. “Shooters are always saying so.”

Jack sat up and brought his mouth to them. She whimpered with pleasure. “They’re crazy,” he muttered, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking it. “I think they’re terrific.”

For long minutes, they didn’t speak. Jack continued to kiss and stroke and cup her breasts. He found loving her that way unbelievably satisfying, exciting. He couldn’t get enough of her.

He brought his mouth to hers. “I want to taste you everywhere. I want to touch you, to stroke you.” He caught her bottom lip and drew it into his mouth. “I want to make you come.”

She shuddered, and he pushed her backward gently, until she lay sprawled on the couch. He splayed his hands across her abdomen and lowered his head. Her belly quivered as he trailed his lips and tongue across her soft, warm flesh. “You taste so good, Gina. You’re so beautiful, so soft…”

She tangled her fingers in his hair. He touched her everywhere. He explored and learned, about a woman’s body and about what pleased this woman. She arched and moaned and squirmed. She tried to pull him to her, again and again, but each time he stopped her. He wanted to please her, but he also wanted to know, finally, how to please a woman.

He slid his hands between her thighs, moving them up until he found her center. Wet and almost unbearably hot, he sank into her.

“Can I taste you here?” Jack didn’t wait for her answer, but placed his mouth exactly where he longed for it to be. She gasped and lifted her hips off the couch in response; he tasted and tested again.

He grew bolder, his body tautened, as she whimpered and moaned, as she squirmed under his hands, to his kisses, his caresses. He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t taste enough. He found every part of her body to be perfect, enchanting. He loved her every texture and scent, every taste, every sound she made.

She cried out and bucked up against his mouth, her hands twisted in his hair. He felt her throb and quiver, and he knew a sense of such overwhelming power. In that moment, she was his. He was the center of her universe. He had made her cry out with pleasure, only him.

His control slipped, and while she still shook with her release, he thrust into her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and they rocked together until he exploded inside her.

Afterward, she stared at him in adoration and shock. “That’s never…I never…” She let the words trail off, looking embarrassed and near tears.

Jack threaded his fingers through her damp hair. “Didn’t you like it?”

She flushed. “I loved it.”

He leaned his forehead against hers and grinned. “So did I.”

For a long time after that, they didn’t speak. They lay on their sides, facing each other, Jack’s sweater pulled partially over them. The mantel clock ticked loudly in the otherwise quiet room.

Gina’s eyes were closed, her breathing soft and even. “Are you asleep?” he asked.

She opened her eyes. “No. Just thinking.”

“What about?”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I was wondering, where did you learn to do, you know, all that?”

“I’ve seen and heard a lot of stuff. Mostly on location.” He grinned. “You’d be surprised what a kid can learn by keeping his eyes and ears open.”

She giggled. “I like surprises.”

She fell silent again, and Jack propped himself up on an elbow to gaze down at her. She arched her eyebrows. “What?”

“Just looking.”

“Oh.”

“Gina?” She met his eyes again. “Are you going to keep modeling?”

“For sure. After this semester, I’m quitting school. I’m already a year behind, and I can’t keep up.”

“School’s not my favorite thing, but my mother would have a fit if I even thought about dropping out.”

“Mine doesn’t care. This is my career, and I can only do it while I’m young.” She tilted her head, studying him. “What are you going to do when you get out of school? Go to college?”

He shook his head. “I’m going to be a fashion photographer.”

“Like your dad.”

“I don’t think of him that way,” Jack corrected grimly. “The only thing we have in common is blood. You’ve got to give a shit to be a father. Or a son. Besides,” he said, his voice tight with determination, “I’m going to be better than him.”

“Carlo’s going to be a fashion photographer, too. He told Sara.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to be better than both of them. You can bet on it.”

She looked up at him, her cheeks and eyes glowing. “I believe you will be.”

“Do you, Gina?” He smiled at her, pleased, feeling suddenly like the experienced one, the one in control.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice thick. “I think you’re going to be able to do anything you put your mind to.”

He pressed his mouth to hers in a quick, hard kiss. “When did you say your mother was going to be home?”

Together they glanced at the wall clock. “Not for a while.”

“Great.” He curved his lips into a slow, satisfied smile. “As long as we’re here, what would you say about—”

He leaned close to her and whispered what he would like to do in her ear. Laughing, she drew him to her again.

Much later, Jack and Gina dressed in silence. He felt spent, energized, taut, and relaxed all at the same time. Gina walked him to the door, facing him when they reached it. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” she said softly, her cheeks bright with color.

He cupped her face, leaned down and kissed her. “Can I call you?”

She sighed. “Oh, yes.”

He opened the door and started through it. She caught his hand, stopping him. “Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“Tonight, I did it with you just because I…wanted to. It didn’t have anything to do with…anything else.” She clung to his hand. “And it’s never…been that way for me before. It’s never felt so…good.”

Satisfaction and pride swelled inside him. He brought their joined hands to his mouth. “Gina, can I ask you something? It’s important.”

She nodded, searching his serious expression. “Anything.”

“Don’t have sex with him. With Carlo. Okay?”

“Because he’s your brother?”

“Because I don’t like him. I don’t like him a lot.” He tightened his fingers on hers. “It’s really important to me, Gina. Can you promise?”

“I promise, Jack.” She smiled up at him. “I’d do anything for you.”