“If you’re both still comfortable,” the coordinator said, calm as ever, “we’ll move straight to the full version. Ten seconds. Open mouth. Tongue included. We’ll discuss it afterward, then we’ll finish for today and you won’t kiss again until shooting.”
No one spoke. They both just nodded.
The kiss began the way it was meant to—slow, measured, tongues brushing in careful passes that could almost be mistaken for professional. He told himself he could keep it clinical, keep it controlled.
He couldn’t.
His mouth betrayed him. He sucked on Jacob’s tongue, instinctive and reckless. The sound that slipped free was worse—a needy moan spilling out before he could stop it. Heat rushed through him, so fierce it made his whole body tremble with the force of it.
Shame followed instantly, because Christ, what was he doing? Moaning into a kiss that was supposed to be nothing more than choreography. And yet even as the humiliation burned through him, the need wouldn’t let go. It pressed harder, curled deeper,until he was clinging to Jacob like that slip had set something free inside him.
Jacob didn’t pull away. He reacted. His grip on Liam’s jaw tightened, thumb pressing harder into his cheek. His tongue pushed deeper, the slow, deliberate control giving way to something far less restrained. Liam gasped into it, the sound swallowed between their mouths, as his fingers fisted tighter in Jacob’s shirt, desperate to keep him close.
Jacob pressed forward, chest to chest now, heat pouring off him. The kiss deepened until Liam could barely think past the ache and the way his body betrayed him with every helpless sound.
It should have ended. Ten seconds, no more. The IC’s voice had faded into nothing. The world itself narrowed down to the ruthless press of Jacob’s mouth, and the steady grip of his hands holding him in place. He moaned again—shameless this time—and Jacob answered with a low noise of his own, something rough and dark that made Liam’s body come alive.
Jacob pulled back slowly, like he was forcing himself, breath dragging hot across Liam’s swollen lips. He couldn’t seem to move or unclench his hands from Jacob’s shirt. He couldn’t look anywhere but at Jacob’s blown pupils and the heavy lids that made him look wrecked in a way Liam had never seen before.
The room was silent, but then the IC cleared her throat softly. “Good,” she said, her voice too careful, almost unsteady. “That’s… good. We’ll end here for today.”
Jacob tried to shift back, but couldn’t. Liam’s fists were still knotted tight in his shirt, holding him there like his body hadn’t caught up to the end.
Jacob’s gaze dropped pointedly to Liam’s hands. He felt the weight of it immediately. Heat crawled up his neck, mortification burning hot. Slowly, stiffly, he forced his fingers tounclench, the fabric slipping free as if he were peeling himself away from something he couldn’t bear to lose.
Jacob stepped back at last, composure sliding neatly into place until there was no trace of the man who’d just had his mouth on him. His armor back where it belonged.
Liam stood with his chest still heaving and the taste of Jacob on his tongue. He stared at the space between them, stupidly aware of how warm his hands still felt. For one reckless second he wanted to drag him back—just to feel that heat again.
Chapter 8
Jacob
It started like a scene; the same words, the same heat. Only this time, when Jacob touched him, it wasn’t gentle. Liam’s back hit the wall, a muted thud against plaster. Jacob’s palm pressed flat beside his head, the other hand closing around his throat—not cruel, just enough to steal his air, to make his breath catch and his body tremble.
Jacob’s voice came low and dangerous, brushing Liam’s ear. “Tell me you want this.”
Liam’s head tipped back, lips parting on a moan, soft and helpless. “Yes.” His voice fractured into a plea. “Please—”
The kiss hit hard, like fire searing down his spine. Liam’s mouth opened under his, desperate in the way he yielded, in the way his tongue tangled and stroked back. Jacob wanted to crawl inside him and devour him whole. Liam clutched at him with frantic hands, fists twisting in his hair, hips arching tight against him. It was reckless and messy, a kiss that stole air and sanity. He felt like he was unraveling, falling, and Liam was the gravity pulling him under.
Jacob woke with a gasp, chest heaving. Beside him, Caroline lay with her head turned into the pillows, the peacefulness of sleep softening every line on her face.
Jacob didn’t move. Couldn’t. His body was strung too tight with need, his cock hard and aching in a way that shamed him. Every throb a reminder it wasn’t for his wife beside him, but for Liam—for a man—and the knowledge sat heavy in his chest.
It had only been two days since the staged kiss. It should have been nothing more than rehearsal, yet somehow it had lodged under Jacob’s skin, more real than he would allow himself to admit. Now Liam was there even in his sleep, haunting him with a hunger he couldn’t seem to shake.
Jacob sat up carefully, breath unsteady. The mattress dipped under his weight as his bare feet found the floor. He slipped out quietly, careful not to wake Caroline, carrying the filth of the dream with him into the bathroom. He left the light off—unable to face his own reflection in that glare.
The faucet groaned and water rushed cold. He bent forward, splashing his face again and again, as if the chill could wash Liam away and erase what fire had written on his skin. It didn’t work. He lifted his head at last, the moonlight enough to show the mirror’s cruelty. His face stared back—shadowed, unshaven and wild around the eyes.
“Not real,” he muttered to himself. “You’re not—” His voice caught, the wordgaylodging in his throat. He couldn’t force it out, couldn’t even let himself think it.
Clothes came off in sharp movements. He stepped under the shower and turned the handle until the water scalded. He let it blister down on him, the water hitting his skin like punishment. He braced both hands against the tile, head bowed under the spray, every muscle strung tight with tension while steam curled thick around him.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of anything else. God, he tried. Caroline’s laugh. His children’s faces. The endless lines he needed to memorize. None of it stuck. Every thought dissolved into Liam—Liam’s pouty lips, Liam’s voice, the wayhe had moaned in the dream, broken and wanting.Liam, Liam, Liam.
His breath went shallow. His hands trembled against the wall, body tight with need he didn’t want, but couldn’t seem to bury. Somewhere between one shaky breath and the next, his hand drifted down, touching himself—slow at first, then faster, as need eclipsed thought and hunger took over.
