‘How’s your evening going?’ she asks.
I lean against the door, and it shuts with a satisfying click. We can make small talk. I can sit on her couch again and drink camomile fucking tea. Or I can come clean. Tell her why I’m really here.
‘My evening is a write-off because I spent most of the morning with my head up your skirt, and despite those fucking chastity panties you were wearing, I could smell you the entire time. And I can’t stop thinking about how you smell. And how I know you taste. And I’m going crazy, and I’m sick of it.’
I exhale deeply, and my nostrils flare with the effort. She’s frozen, staring at me as if my words have made her lose the power of speech and movement.
I continue. ‘I’m sick of quick bangs in our trailers. I’m sick of touching you through your costume, relying on my memory and my imagination for how you look naked. I’m sick of it all.’ I take a step towards her. ‘I need you naked, baby. I need to spread you out on that bed in there and take you. Taste every single inch of you. Run my mouth over your sweet, sweet skin. None of this other bullshit. I got all night. And I just wanna gorge myself to my fucking deathbed on you.’
Her shoulders heave, and she lifts her eyes to the ceiling as if she’s seeking strength from someplace, and when she looks back at me, her face screws up and I think for a second she’s gonna cry, and then she launches herself at me like I’m her next dinner. She climbs me like a goddamn tree and I grab her ass—that gorgeous, peachy ass—and hold her up as she wraps her legs and arms around me.
She finds my mouth and parts my lips, and I’m there for her. Body, mind and heart. Even if she only wants my body right now.
‘I want that too,’ she whimpers into my mouth. ‘I really wish I didn’t, Josh. But I do.’
‘I know,’ I tell her. ‘I got you. This is only going to be a good thing for you. You hear that, baby? I’m only gonna make you feel good. We deserve this.’ I snicker against her mouth. ‘And it’sgreatfor the show. Alyssa is so fucking happy with us right now.’
It’s true. Our chemistry, our tension, our intimacy and our familiarity with each other’s bodies are bleeding through to every scene and Alyssa, Abigail and David are on cloud fucking nine. And I get the feeling Kate knows she’s become redundant somewhere along the line and can’t really figure out how or why.
I keep a hold of her and walk across the living room and into her bedroom as she clings even tighter to me, like the sweetest baby monkey ever. Her chin rests on my shoulder and I turn my head a little to inhale her damp, fragrant hair. When we hit the bed, I stop and lean forward so she can uncurl herself and lay down.
Our faces are inches apart. ‘It’s you and me tonight,’ I tell her, scanning her face for a sign of either panic or acceptance. ‘I don’t want anything between us. No clothes. No characters. Just us. That cool with you?’
She nods slowly. ‘Yeah.’
This sliver of time feels sacred. We’re suspended here for a second before I give her more of a clue of how I feel. She still hasn’t let me explain myself, or redeem myself, or seek her forgiveness with words, but I’m more than capable of showing her with my body. My feelings for this woman run so deep there’s no way I can be naked with her and not have her understand.
My finger traces down the slope of her cute little nose, over those pillowy lips and over her chin. Down her neck. Down between her breasts, until it gets to the top button ofher cardigan. I work at the tiny buttons—playing Dom has gotten me good at that—and slowly work my way through them. I came here desperate for her, but now I know I’ve got all night with her, I wanna take my time.
She doesn’t take her eyes off me, and I give her a smile I hope conveys how in awe of her I am. A plain black bra comes into view, and I suck in my breath. Having her trussed up in the corset was one thing; being able to lay her bare is another.
I tug the cardigan open and slide my hand down the velvet smoothness of her stomach before hooking my thumbs through the waistband of her yoga pants. As I drag them down over her hips, her matching black panties come into view. There’s something fragile, vulnerable about her in this state. She’s not on set. She’s not dressed up or in performance mode. She’s pared back, and I wanna show her how right she is to trust me with this privilege.
I pause to pull my shirt off over my head. Fair’s fair. I don’t want any power imbalance tonight. I unzip my jeans, ease them over my hard-on, and step out of them, and as her gaze dances over my body, her eyes soften. Darken. She can see the full effect she’s having on me.
That’s better. I crawl onto the bed so I’m straddling her, and help her wriggle out of her cardigan, dropping a kiss on her glossy shoulder as it slides off of it. I weave my fingers through hers and plant her arms above her head. Dropping down. Finding her lips. Getting her used to this nakedness between us. Not literal nakedness—though it will be in a few seconds—but this web of exposed emotions and vulnerabilities and humanity.
Our kiss deepens, and my mind is free of everything except the sound of her breath, the slide of her lips, the sensual tug of her tongue. The taste of her. Her skin against mine. This kiss is a movie in itself. It’s a love story, told through the nerve endings of our mouths.
I squeeze her hands before letting go and trailing my fingers back down the softest, creamiest skin on the underside of her arms. They roam over the plain cotton of her bra, and as my thumbs brush her nipples, she jolts a little. I suck on her bottom lip and increase the pressure of my thumbs as her nipples harden into beautiful little buds below them. Elle’s breathing deepens, which I take as a pretty clear signal that we can lose the bra. She arches as I reach under her to unhook it and pull it off.
And there she is. Fuck, she’s so beautiful, lying there for me, her breasts perfection, her face the most incredible mix of desire and trust.
‘Baby.’I shake my head in disbelief. Holy fuck, was this worth waiting for.
She reaches up and strokes her knuckles down my chest, my stomach, and teases me with a finger skimming under the waistband of my boxer briefs. ‘I think we’d better lose the rest.’
‘Gotcha.’ I jump off the bed and lose my underwear before doing what I’ve been waiting five years to do and slipping her panties off of her.
And holy fuck. She’s totally naked and a sight for sore fucking eyes, up on her elbows. One leg up, foot sliding over the bedcovers. Watching for my reaction. Waiting for me to make my move.
I love you.
You are spectacular.
I am not worthy of you.
‘You okay?’ she asks, and I realise I’ve been standing there like a fucking zombie.
