His hips start moving, steady and practiced but too real.His head tips back, body arching, lips tight in a grimace of staged pleasure.My heart hammers so hard I slap a hand over my mouth, terrified the crew will hear the moan threatening to slip out as the pillow presses against me.Each fake thrust stretches into eternity while the pharmacist circles us, nodding like it’s just another day on set.
“This is good,” Alan rasps between ragged breaths.
“Cut, okay!”Martha calls, and I exhale with relief.But Alan doesn’t release me.Instead, he leans close enough that his whisper brushes hot against my lips.
“Come on, Fenella.One taste.Nobody has to know.Not even Laird.”
“Knock it off,” I snap, shoving at his chest, still stuck on the floor.He just chuckles wickedly, pulling me up by the hand like he owns the moment.
“Next setup!”Martha bellows, marching over with new instructions.
Now I’m back on the small chair, straddling him loosely.The shelves hide our bodies from the waist down while his hands settle on my waist.My hand braces on his shoulder with the phone as a prop, and the camera swings into place above us.
“Positions!”
Alan’s breath ghosts my lips, his smile too smug.“You want me, don’t you?”
My chest rattles with nerves, and I tell myself this is temporary and meaningless.No matter how strong his temptation, loyalty to Laird keeps me grounded.My voice comes out low.“No.You’re not trapping me again.”
“Honesty is your best friend,” he murmurs.
“Which you’ve never had,” I bite back, narrowing my eyes.
“Quiet!Action!”
We move like the script demands, me lifting the phone to my ear, delivering the line flat.“Hey, Dad.No, I’m just trying out this new condom with Jason.”
“Yeah, it feels amazing,” I add, casual, as if commenting on laundry.
Alan slides in with a smirk, grabbing a random soap.“Hey, this one’s half off.”
“Cut!Again!”Martha demands, and we repeat the whole ridiculous bit until she’s satisfied.
“Cut, okay!”Everyone claps as a sign the shoot has ended well.
When it’s over, Alan’s hand stays firm on my back.His grip stays steady, his whisper low enough for only me to hear.“The offer stands, Fenella.Try me once before you decide.You might like what you find.”
His breath is warm, his eyes locked in, and I hate that my body reacts to him.Mallory’s stories of his prowess ring louder in my head than they should.Okay, I’m tempted, dangerously curious.I mean, look at those brown eyes, the sturdy jaw, the neatly trimmed stubble.When he leans in, his lips nearly graze mine.
“No.”
I push him off, grab my satin robe from Jessy, and keep myself busy thanking everyone.I shut the door and lean against it, chest heaving, cheeks burning, the question slicing me open.What the hell is wrong with me?
I have to admit, Alan knows how to work a woman.He knows how to make sin look like art, and he knows exactly how to make it beautiful.
No, wait a minute.I still don’t know a thing about him or Amy, and I don’t know if he can be trusted, not after all the times he’s lied.
“You ready to change?”the makeup artist asks, giving me that puzzled look.
“Oh, yeah, sorry.I’m freezing,” I say, rubbing my arms.
My head keeps flipping between Alan’s nonstop sweet talk and Laird, sitting somewhere waiting for an update.I force myself to slow my breathing.I take off the robe and rub my arms that are still shivering from the chill.
Behind the dressing-room curtain I remove the bra cups and slip out of the G-string.Wait a minute… Is that a drip?Damn!I quickly fold it, and stuff it deep in my bag.I pull on a normal lingerie set, a black turtleneck knit and a knee-length pencil skirt, drop back into the makeup chair, and watch the stylist smooth my hair back into a polished shape.
Half an hour later the hairstylist finally finishes.It’s past three when I glance at my phone.Laird left a couple of messages.
Laird:
