Chapter 70: Bad Girls Faint From Rap Star's Kisses

Now, I'm getting a lot of upset readers. I want to encourage you all with the following quote:

Don't worry, dear readers.  There's always a big battle in the greatest stories.  Put your armor on, because you are in this fight for Madam with me...and this is the first gunshot in the last battle.  In this scene, Mac "blows a kiss". In the next, Adam "fires a gun."

Back to our previously planned programming....

Mac

The dance shoot in the large castle hall proceeds quickly. Maybe because Dev and I worked like Trojans for two weeks to perfect our limited sequences, or maybe because the label went all out and hired a damn troupe of Bollywood dancers to back us.

Or maybe the sequence was mostly painless because Dev is a good guy and a good dancer, and the Bollywood-style contact was minimal. Yet, two weeks and more than an hundred times we've rehearsed it, and it was still slightly uncomfortable for me—his close stance behind me, his hands trailing my waist and pulling my arms back, bending me forward, snapping me upright again, rolling me by the hair.

I'm an alt rocker. Our videos are more likely to include drug-blurry love scenes with me in ripped up t-shirts and leather boy shorts, not sexy dance moves in sequins and scarves and forehead jewels. This was a first. It was freaky, but it was also fun.

It went so well, the director moved right into the wedding procession sequence. That didn't go so well, for me personally, because I was already hot, and the quick sponging wasn't enough to cool down before Tamara and I had to get me re-costumed. The halter top of the "wedding" dress is too tight, and between it and the damn choker necklace I can't breathe. But for that shot, all I had to do was walk through the dancers and toward Dev, and take his hands, so I managed to pull that off.

As soon as the the director called cut, I stalked over to Tamara, clawing at the necklace. "Get it off."

The director calls a break, because Dawes has arranged with him for Dev and I to have our private rehearsal before the last shot of this shoot—the Big Kiss.

I feel a little better now with the necklace off, but I still don't feel right. Maybe it's just the endorphins rushing through me from the dance sequence, but I feel slightly buzzed and...loose. Not myself. Almost like I've been drinking, but of course I haven't. In a way, I'm glad. For what happens next, I need to be loose.

I cross my arms in front of me, trying to stretch this skin tight bodice. The dress—a gold brocade two piece with a full, flowing skirt and halter top that reveals the reacquired definition of my upper abs—is beautiful but it's insufferably restrictive, and the halter strap that fastens around the back of my neck is bothersome.

Tamara eyes me and pulls me into the changing cubicle, "Want to get out of this and put on a robe?" she asks.

"God no. It'll just be five minutes. I can put up with it for that long." I tug at the halter top, trying to make some space around my neck, but the fabric doesn't give.

Tam whirls me around by the arms. "You're gonna kiss him for FIVE MINUTES!?!?!" she exclaims.

"It was a figure of speech," I hiss, adjusting my boobs in the halter in irritation. "I expect more understanding, Tam. Aren't you currently in love with one man and having the baby of another?"

Tam gasps, covering her mouth for a second and then blurting. "What the fuck are you saying? Are you feelin' Dev Blu?"

"No!" I hiss. "Fuck no! I'm just...I have to kiss him, and he's my friend and he's sad, I think, about having to kiss me, and so I want to make him feel better, and that means...I guess...I have to kiss him nice. On top of that, it's my job right now to make kissing him look hot. And..." I blow out my breath and sink down on the chair, "And ADAM!" I breathe his name like a plea. For understanding. For strength. For forgiveness.

"Are you gonna tell Adam?" Tamara's voice is low. "That you and Dev rehearsed the kiss?"

My hair falls forward as I nod. "After the Call-Out, I guess. Maybe we will have a nice couple of days, before the fight starts."

"Or maybe he will understand, if you are honest, and transparent," Tamara kneels in front of me, unstrapping my shoes and handing me a pair of flip-flops so that I can navigate the stairs in the castle. "Don't make my mistakes, Mac. I dug myself a hole with Leed. I know it's not the same because you and Adam are in love, but the father of my baby doesn't really trust me. You don't want to know what that feels like, believe me."

"Leed loves you, in his way," I protest.

Tamara rolls her eyes. "Yeah, he does, and I'm really hoping that we will even out in the long run, but he still doesn't fully trust me right now, and it sucks because I lost one of my best friends. You don't want that. Adam is a keeper in every way...best friend, lover, husband, father. Don't let this shoot and all this glamour and Dev's damn accent mess with your head."

I squeeze her hand. "You're right. Thank you, Tam. You give very mature advice."

Tamara's brows and mouth pucker in offense. "Mature advice? Now I feel like a grandmother. Scratch all that and think of it like this...you're about to be a shining star. Nobody asks a diva to do a damn thing she doesn't want to. So...this might be the last guy you ever have to kiss, besides Adam. Your last first kiss. Might as well enjoy it," she teases.

"Shut up."

Dawes sticks his head around the cubicle wall expectantly and I rise.

"Good luck," she sing songs behind me.

Dawes leads me silently to a massive, romantically decorated, gothic bedroom.

"Really?" I say my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dawes raises his arms in exasperation. "It's a fucking castle. All the rooms are like this." He checks his phone, his face revealing nothing. "Dev will be here in a minute. I've got a thing to deal with. You can find your way back to the main hall?"

I nod. He leaves. I wonder if Dev had a room like this in his father's castle. I wander into the en suite bathroom, check my makeup. I automatically wipe off the lip gloss, thinking of how much Adam hates stage make-up. Thinking of Adam, while I'm waiting to kiss Dev, makes my stomach do a slow roll, and suddenly I feel nauseous. I lean against the wall, willing myself not to be sick. Christ, I have to kiss Dev, I can't do that with puke breath.

The sound in the room is dampened by heavy tapestries, I didn't even hear the door on the balcony above open and close, or hear Dev's barefeet footfalls down the heavy stone steps. I only realize he's there when he calls my name in his clipped lilt.

I stare at myself in the mirror. I will myself to breathe slowly. In slow. Hold. One. Two. Three. Out slow. Again.

"MacKenna?" he calls again, his hands on his hips, his arms and his upper chest bare because his "wedding vest" is open to reveal his nicely toned pecs. He can see me clearly, through the open bathroom door.

I turn and smile at him, crossing to him easily, standing close to him, but not too close. No way am I making the first move, I'm sure the director will want him to initiate the kiss, so he might as well do that now. He grins at me, rubbing his lips. I ignore the tightness in my throat, the butterflies in my stomach, the heaviness and the bubbly feeling below that let me know Babycakes is awake and moving.

Breathe. In slow. Hold. One. Two. Three. Out slow. Again.

"This is fucking weird, right?" he says gently, and we both laugh.

"How do you think we should begin?" He wears a thoughtful look as his eyes sweep my hair, my jaw, my shoulders. I guess he's looking for a point of first contact.

I shrug. "Just...kiss me like you mean it. Pretend like you actually want to kiss me."

He makes that distinctly British snorting sound in the back of his throat. "MacKenna, there's hardly a man alive that wouldn't want to kiss you. You're very very lovely," he says softly, taking a small step closer.

I can hear my own sharp intake of breath as I take an automatic step backward. He halts immediately, frowning slightly.

I giggle nervously. "Sorry." I put my hands on his bare chest, patting slightly. "Just...let's just...sorry...just go for it..."

He shakes his head rubs his lips again. "Actually...fuck it, I have to ask...tongue or no tongue?" His expression is almost painful.

I consider. "Is there usually tongue in a wedding kiss?"

He presses his lips together for a second and gives me a wide stare. "You tell me, love. You're the married one."

The tension breaks a little as I laugh. "Well there was a lot of tongue and hands and moaning in my wedding kiss, but Adam is a rock star."

Dev grins crookedly. "Fuck that, now I'm fired up. I'm goddamn rapper, you think I got less game with the ladies?"

I rotate my hand, calling him forward. "Bring it, rap star."

He nods, his dark eyes intense as he slides a hand into my hair and moves in very slowly, pressing his lips to mine. The sensations are soft, his taste minty and nice, but it's nothing like Adam kissing me. There's no melting, no tug at my soul to ease toward his. I have to focus on my physical response, tilting my head, yielding my lips. I'm not so much feeling it as trying to think about what it might look like from the outside.

We are supposed to look like we are in love. Deep into one another. I try to imagine I'm kissing Adam. I step a little closer, tilting my head up toward him, reaching up to touch his face, but there's nothing here in this kiss.

Dev feels it too, and it's like he rises to the challenge, determined to make it better. Or at least, look better. He's taking control of my head, gently teasing into my mouth, pulling me up to his height. I try to breathe around the kiss.

He pulls me even closer to him, ready to go for a full tongue rolling burst of passion. He grips my neck on both sides, his thumbs sliding around to the front. An image of the piercings he no longer wears flashes into my mind, and suddenly I can feel them, pressing into my lips, crushing against me as he crushes my throat.

And I can't breathe. I smack his hands away as I stumble backwards, but there's no relief. I can't breathe. This damn halter top is so fucking tight, and the straps are pressing into my neck. I can't fucking breathe.

I keep wheeling backwards, the dress rustling frantically, and my back hits the wall.

Always the fucking wall. My hand goes to my throat as I gasp. I'm tugging at the halter that's pressing on me. I'm still in control, but I don't how much longer I will know that it's the halter digging into my neck and not hands choking me.

Breathe. In slow. Hold. One. Two. Three. Out slow. Again.

"MacKenna," he says.

I shake tears loose as I move my head frantically. "Can't breathe. Your hands on my throat...can't breathe."

Dev is stock still, his face going through revolutions of expressions. Shock, confusion, realization, concern. He understands what's happening. I told him at the police station in LA about my flashbacks and triggers, and he remembers.

He raises his hands slowly. "You're alright, love. I won't touch you. I won't come near you. You're alright." He pulls his phone. "Gonna call Dawes. Get your people in here." He takes another step back. "You're alright," he repeats. "Safe."

I'm panting, fumbling with the halter. It doesn't tie. It hooks. I can't get it off. I have to get it off.

I'm clawing at the back of my neck now, but it's not just my breath I can't catch. My heart is racing, pounding so hard I feel it in my throat, forcing blood just like I'm trying to force air. My lungs are screaming for more air, and this bodice is squeezing me tight and tighter. "Dev...help me..." I turn around, pushing off the wall with stiff hands, yielding my back to him. "Get it off," I say, reaching back with one hand, clawing at the hook on the halter straps.

"MacKenna, are you sure?" he asks. He means, am I sure I want him to approach me.

"Dev, please. Please," I gasp.

I feel him behind me, "I'm going to touch you now. Just to loosen the strap. You're okay," he says. Then his hands are on my neck and I stiffen, gasping. He takes his hands away at once.

"Don't stop. Please," I'm crying, my voice tight, urgent.

"Shhh, love. I've got you," he says as he fumbles with the strap again. I feel the pressure release as the strap pops free, but it's not enough. I can't get any air in this tight bodice.

My breath is coming too fast and I've lost my words. I reach back, grabbing at Dev's hand, pulling it towards the side zipper on this bodice. He understands what I need. His hands moving gently, all over my side, trying to find the fob on the zipper. When he finally manages to release the zipper, I give a gasp of relief that I can breathe deeply, and Dev's hand goes automatically to my front, holding the halter in place as he murmurs comfort over and over. "You're fine, love. You're perfect. You're safe with me. I would never hurt you. I've got you, love."

I put a hand to his chest trying to indicate the heart. It's not usually like this. Something's wrong. My heart...pounding...I think I'm going to...

I close my eyes, lean my head against the wall, as my vision blurs and my knees feel weak. For a second I feel like I'm sliding, but then my world reorients and my body moves in ways I'm not directing. I force my eyes open at the confusing sensation to realize that Dev has me in his arms, moving toward the bed. I lean against his chest, unable to do anything else. Just as my vision starts to go dark, and my head lolls back, I sigh because I see a beautiful and fierce avenging angel, looking down at me.

"Adam," I manage, and then my world goes dark.

Thought? It's okay, you can vent. You can yell at me if you need to....