Re-learning him.
Memorising him.
It was supposed to make us feel close. Connected.
It fucking worked.
And then, when the cameras rolled, and we began to move, it was too much. The lines were blurring, and I was powerless to stop them. Josh already looks far too gorgeous as Dominic. I’m already sold on him. But this wasn’t about Dominic. It was about Josh, and it was about the fact that no amount of sensitive, informed assistance from Kate could stop this from being obscenely triggering for me. And for him too, it would seem.
It wasn’t a stretch to act Georgiana’s apprehension as thescene opened, and it wasn’t a stretch to act her unfolding around Dominic like a flower as they moved together. I just channeled my nerves and hostility and fear of acting out such an intimate scene with him after blowing up at him the other night, and I channeled the mounting sense of pure pleasure I got from being under him, pinned down by him on a bed, consumed by him as he writhed on top of me in all his incredible, golden, practically naked glory.
Most of all, that eye-contact exercise had opened the floodgates, so it felt much more natural to hold his gaze as he pretended to take me. I took my cues from him: the camera was on me, but the desire building in his eyes made me feel I wasn’t alone as I let my face show not only what Georgiana was supposed to feel, but everything I wasn’t supposed to feel on a set with cameras rolling and an ex I despised moving on top of me.
Grinding his body against mine in a way that set of flashes of muscle memory like fireworks.
Nipping at my bottom lip and stroking my hair as if he’d never forgotten how to touch me.
Telling Georgiana she was perfect, in a voice thick with need, when it really felt like he was telling me.
He cast me aside five years ago, and I’ve never felt so powerless. But when I looked up at him just now, he was the one out of control.
Shit. What a mess.
There’s a knock at the door. Hopefully Parka Pete with a cuppa. But when I open it, Josh is standing there in his robe. There’s a mug in his hand and utter anguish on his face.
‘Can I come in?’ He looks quickly to both sides. ‘I want to... apologise. I told Pete I’d give you this.’ He holds up the mug.
I blink. ‘Of course. Come in.’
I stand back to let him through, and my trailer seems to shrink as his size fills it up.
He sets the mug down on the table and turns to me, going to rake his hand through his Dominic hair-do before stopping himself. He stares down at me and comes a step closer.
‘Elle, I am sosorry. Oh my God, I am fucking mortified—I’m furious with myself.’
‘It’s okay. I?—’
‘No, it’s not okay. I wanted to treat you with respect, and then I get a fucking hard-on during a scene I know was already excruciating for you. It’s fucked up, is what it is.’
Something has shifted between us these past few days. For whatever reason, he seems to be struggling to handle his feelings for me, and it’s reassuring. Despite what he did to me five years ago, right now, he’s as vulnerable as I am. As exposed.
I look up into his brown eyes and see pain and a whole lot of need. He is so gorgeous it’s ridiculous. So beautiful, it shouldn’t be allowed. He’s chewing his lip. I run my eyes down his sideburns and over that jaw, currently tense with frustration.
And I make a decision.
I put my hand on his chest, over his robe. Jesus, his poor heart is hammering.
And I smile at him. ‘I had a hard-on, too.’
His eyes widen, and he lets go of his lip. His expression is absolutely bloody priceless as he clocks what I’m saying.
‘Josh.’ My hand slides upwards to his neck and curls in under his robe. ‘We have twenty-five minutes. Any ideas on how we can make each other feel better, so we don’t disgrace ourselves when we go back in there?’
He’s shaking. ‘God, Elle—oh my God. Fuck. Are you serious?’
I look up at him through my eyelashes. ‘Deadly. Just… don’t mess up my hair or my corset. I’d rather not give Wardrobe anything to talk about.’ I’m smiling at him still, enjoying this total head-fuck he’s clearly having. I cock my head. ‘Think you can do that for me?’
His hands come to the sides of my neck and slide under the lapel of my robe.
