This was the way I thought things would go. Boundaries, limits, ideas. Choreography. And choreography would be easy, right? Like I’d told Kallum earlier, there was something reassuring about knowing the dance moves ahead of time.
And it would be extra reassuring for someone who didn’t know very many,ahem, dance moves at all.
We went over the scene—a newly minted Santa would take my character, Holly, for a ride in his sleigh, which would lead to fingering, which was mostly unexplored territory for me in real life—and then Kallum and I took turns stepping out of the room so Jack could privately go over boundaries and limits with us.
When it was my turn, I told him—honestly—that I had none.
The ex–porn star looked at me skeptically. His dog, MissCrumpets, startled herself awake, barked at an empty chair, and then laid her head back down. “Are you sure?” asked Jack Hart.
“I’m sure,” I said confidently. The new Winnie was excited for this. The new Winnie wasready.
Jack twisted his pretty mouth but then he shrugged. “I also basically have no limits, so I get it. That said, if we get to something that doesn’t work for you, let me know.”
Not going to happen. So what if I was still nervous about all of this and still unsure of my costar? I was an actor, a professional, and I Had This.
Except, as Jack arranged two chairs side by side to make a pretend sleigh bench, as Kallum sat next to me and then drapedone of those Scottish log-throwing arms over the back of my chair, the low-simmering panic I’d felt all morning flamed into something much, much hotter. He was so easy in his skin, so confident and casual about bringing our bodies close together, and I... was not. I wanted to be, wasdeterminedto be, and yet I couldn’t get my muscles to unclench, couldn’t get my spine to soften.
“Okay,” Jack said, sitting on the table in front of us. “So we’ve said all the flirty words, et cetera et cetera, now we get to the good stuff. Kallum, this is when you say, ‘Spread your legs for Santa, baby,’ and Winnie, I imagine this is one of the shots Gretchen will want to show either dead-on or from the top. The more hotness points we can rack up before the actual touching starts, the more we can get away with hiding later. So go ahead.”
My brain was blank. “What?”
“He means go ahead and spread your legs,” Kallum said, and something in my chest flipped over.
I didn’t think I’d ever noticed how deep his voice was before now, but Kallum had been the bass singer in INK, hadn’t he? He’d been the powerful, thrumming voice below Isaac’s crooning, and now that same deep voice had just told me to spread my legs.
Swallowing hard, I did as Kallum said. I was wearing jeans today, and so it wasn’t like anything was being exposed, but I suddenly knew what Jack meant about the easily confused limbic systems, because I’d never done anything like this, ever, not as an actress—and not even as a wife. Because when Michael andI’d had sex, words had never been involved, and neither had any kind of sexy preliminaries.
I obediently parted my legs, and Kallum cleared his throat.
“Now, I’m pretty sure you’ll be wearing a skirt for this, Winnie, so I think a nice lingering shot of Kallum’s hand moving up your thigh would work here.”
I managed a professional-soundingI agree, and then Kallum’s hand was on my thigh sweeping up to the middle seam of my jeans. Even though his palm was on the top of my thigh, his hand was big enough that his fingers were brushing along the inside of my leg. Just like they would be if he really were pushing his way up to feel under a skirt.
Sparks followed his touch, and my breath hitched once, twice, and then his hand settled to a stop. A polite two inches away from my vagina.
“Good breath work, Winnie,” Jack said appreciatively, and hot blood rushed to my cheeks, because I, uh, hadn’t been doing the breath work on purpose.
“Now, we’ll probably sell most of this scene with close-ups on your faces, cut in with a few shots of Kallum’s hand under the skirt. But I was thinking Kallum could be kissing your neck while your character comes?”
“Good idea,” I said, Kallum’s hand still burning a hole through my jeans.
“I like it,” Kallum said cheerfully, and then Jack made a circling gesture at me, as if to saycontinue. . . and I realized with a slow horror that I needed to pretend to have an orgasm. Or at least move my body in the same way that I would when I waspretending later, and oh God, how do people have orgasms on-screen? Did they thrash around like Meg Ryan inWhen Harry Met Sally? Did they smack their hand against a car window and then drag it back down like Rose inTitanic?
It didn’t matter. I was going to do this, I was going to figure this out, and so I did my best fake orgasm, tossing my head back and letting my mouth hang open, as if I were mid-moan. But then Kallum didn’t pretend to kiss my neck like he was supposed to. In fact, he didn’t move at all, and when I lifted my head to look at him and Jack, Jack looked genuinely confused. And Kallum looked ready to laugh.
I straightened up in my chair, embarrassment torching my skin.
“Well, that’s not great,” said Jack at the same time Kallum said fondly, “You looked just like that picture I took of you at the Chateau Marmont!”
And now I was one giant bonfire of humiliation. I thought of the picture in question, of my mouth hanging open, my ungraceful slump, and yeah.
There wasn’t anything less sexy in the world.
Chapter Four
Kallum
Winnie’s cheeks flushed as she bit down on her lip, her eyes darting from the floor to me to Jack to MissCrumpets and then to the floor again.
