He dips his chin in gratitude but then his eyes run down me and I can see in the way they heat that he likes what he sees.
“I’m a fan of yours too,” He admits, “I couldn’t see anyone else dancing for me.”
I should be flattered, maybe I should blush and flutter my lashes like his fans do but all I want to do is bring back my hand and wipe it on my shirt. But Adrien isn’t letting it go, even after I attempt to remove myself from his grip.
“If I could have your attention,” The impatient voice of the director finally steals his attention and he reluctantly lets my hand go, turning his head to listen but he steps a little closer than necessary.
Nothing I haven’t dealt with before, so I root myself to the spot and pretend to listen as the director explains the plans for the day, my mind elsewhere, replaying the quick glimpse of Killian this morning. He’s off limits as far as boundaries go, my brother’s best friend but it’s fun to imagine he might look at me the same way Adrien just did. With a little longing and a lot of lust.
An impossibility but there’s no denying the man hasstarred in far too many of my fantasies.
By the time shooting is up for the day, I’ve practically sweat off all the glitter. I’m surprised I’m not leaving sparkly footprints on the floor as I make my way back to the dressing room, sticky with perspiration and a headache that knocks against my temples like an angry mob attempting to break in.
Shutting and locking the door behind me, I collapse onto the small couch inside the room and start tugging at the pins holding my hair in place, dropping each one as they come free and my hair loosens. What feels like a million pins later, I run my fingers through the lengths, wincing when it pulls and tugs on my scalp but there is some relief that helps me breathe a little easier. I take a minute, my eyes squeezed closed before I get up and strip, heading for the small shower in the ensuite bathroom to get this glitter off my skin and the products out of my hair. As much as I’d like to linger under the water, letting the heat soothe my aching muscles, I want to be home more, so once I’m clean, I get out, dress myself and make a beeline for the exit.
I’m almost free when someone calls my name, stopping my forward motion. I glance over my shoulder to see Adrien stalking toward me, a swagger in his step.
“You were perfect today,” He praises me when he gets close enough, lifting a hand to rest it on my arm. He smells like citrus and something spicy and is dressed impeccably.
“Thanks,” I reply, a flatness to my tone that I hope he recognizes.
He doesn’t.
“We are heading for drinks, fancy joining us?”
“I’ve actually got to get back,” I lie, “Maybe another time.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” He winks, finally dropping his hand as he takes a few steps backward, “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I nod, making my exit as soon as he turns his back to me. Evening has started to roll in, turning the sky from blue to this perfect shade of periwinkle purple, my favorite color. I’m still staring at it as I climb into my car and keep glancing at it as my tires roll down the long road to the gates.
The gates open to let me exit and I’m just about to pull out onto the road when I spot Killian’s car parked on the side of the street.
“What the fuck,” I mumble to myself as I pull up behind him and put my car back in park. He doesn’t speed off when I get out, but I can see him looking at me from the reflection in the side mirror. I stop at his window, arms crossing over my chest as I wait for him to look at me.
There’s a pregnant pause and for a second, I think he isn’t going to acknowledge my presence but then the window starts to roll down.
“Why are you here?” I ask him.
“Making sure you get home,” Slowly, he turns his face to me, eyes no longer shielded by his glasses. Age has only made him more beautiful, refined his face in a way that makes it hard to breathe. He is an artist’s dream, with his high cheekbones and dark, fathomless eyes. He catches my breath every time I see him and right now is no different.
Dark brows pull low as his eyes scan my face, “What’s wrong?”
“Huh?” I shake my head, forcing myself out of whatever spell he puts me under, “Nothing.”
His eyes narrow, “You’re lying.”
“What are you talking about?” I step back when he pushes open the door and unfolds himself from the car. I’m not short by any means, not at my five eight height, but Killian towers over me.
A finger curls under my chin, and he tilts my face up, the contact of his skin against mine sending a rush of awareness through me. My breath catches in my throat as he stares at me so intently it’s as if he’s trying to see right through me.
“Something is wrong,” He grumbles, voice rough, “What is it?”
Blinking, I try to get my brain to catch up but all it can do is home in on the way his hand is on me, so gentle from a man who exudes the kind of brutality that should leave you wanting to run in the opposite direction.
“I mean,” My voice comes out breathy, soft, “I have aheadache. They had my hair in a tight bun all day and that always gives me a headache. Plus, I couldn’t wash it properly with their shampoos and I don’t have meds with me.”
“I’ll follow you home,” He grunts, dropping the subject and his hand falls as he moves to climb back into his car.
