“An educated man.”
“I make an effort. Knowledge is important.”
She nods, pinching the foil packet between two fingers, then slides it my way. Without lifting her finger from it, she holds mystare. A fire blazes in hers, unyielding and wanton, and I wonder if mine reflects the same carnality.
Raw desire—something I’m not accustomed to. Normally, tearing myself away from obvious advances is a simple enough task, but for some reason, I can’t make myself do it right now.
Her beauty is ethereal. Transcendent. I want to bite into it directly.
“Say there was a role up for grabs,” she says, looking at me from her lashes. “One that a handsome green-eyed man with theater experience would be perfect for.”
I don’t reply.
Don’t breathe.
“So perfect,” she continues, sliding forward on her stool until I can smell that lush vanilla and honey scent, “that he wouldn’t even need to audition.”
Sweat breaks out along my hairline. “Lead?”
“No, no. That’s mine.”
Maybe it’s the fact that the two masked figures left me unsatisfied earlier, and now this girl is offering herself without so much as an exchange of first names. No thoughts or feelings, just pure lust. The opportunity to expel some pent-up energy with a stranger.
Or maybe I’m losing it.
Either way, I find that I don’t mind all that much.
“What part would you like me to play?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and I’m glued to the movement, my body alight with need as she answers. “Understudy.”
5
ELLE
“First rule as an understudy:Learn your lead.”
The stranger’s car is cramped, and I realize too late that it probably isn’t the best place for a hookup. But seated next to this six-three Adonis with messy, dark brown hair and eyes like soft green moss, I don’t really care.
“Isn’t the first rule usually something likebe positive, ortake the role seriously?”
I lean over the console, pressing my index finger to his lips. “Shh. Understudies don’t question the director’s authority.”
“But I thought you were the lead.”
“There you go again.”
His swallow is audible. “Okay. I’ll be good.”
“You say that, but it doesn’t really feel like you’re trying.”
“What else can I do?”
“Well, for starters, we’re stillsofar apart.”
He glances between us, then at my hand still against his mouth. Seeming to come to some sort of conclusion, he reaches around his side, sliding the seat back a couple of inches with the yank of a lever. The chair reclines, freeing up space on his lap.
“Climb over,” he says softly, spreading his thighs a bit. Strong, powerful thighs that strain beneath the fabric of brown slacks, bunching up at his groin so the outline of him is obscured.
