Page 53 of A Little Bit Extra

“Yeah, no, I get that. Why?” I look at the script to double check it doesn’t call for this position. I hold it up in front of me to show. “It doesn’t specify sitting in this scene.”

“It’s called improv, Sass.” Emmett grins. “You asked for my help and I am a professional.” He winks, and that alone turns my insides to mush. “Trust me?” He moves his hand toward me again.

I roll my eyes but place my hand in his, curious to see where this scene will lead. He pulls me toward him. I place a knee on either side of him, straddling his thighs. I don’t know where to put my hands, so I opt to put them in between us. The script is still in my right hand in case I need to see the lines.

I shift, adjusting my body to sit closer to him. Emmett’s left hand moves to my waist, gripping me. When I look to meet his gaze, he has flushed cheeks and soft eyes. He hardens under me, I’m assuming, because of the proximity of our bodies.

His hand grips me a little tighter, as if he’s afraid I will change my mind and get up. Too late for that. Once I've set my mind on something, there's no turning back. I need to see this through to the end. I want to know what happens if I push him just a bit more, testing the limits of his patience.

Emmett glances at the script in his right hand, his eyes moving to find his line.

“I’m glad you invited me to come out tonight,” he says, locking our eyes together.

I memorized these lines, so I don’t bother looking at my script. I knew I would need to be in the moment with Emmett, so I prepared. When I asked him to rehearse lines with me, I wanted to give in to the tension between us. Just a little.

“Me too. It’s been nice to finally have some alone time. Just the two of us.” I move my left hand to his chest, rocking my hips forward to move our chests closer together. Emmett’s breathing hitches and then settles, his following breaths deeper.

Emmett’s gaze trails from my eyes, to my mouth, to between us to where our bodies connect. He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, before looking back up at me and smirking. If I could read his mind right now, I know what he’d be thinking. What the fuck are you doing to me? Do you feel this too?

To which I’d respond, I feel it all. Too much.

He finally breaks our stare and looks back at the script.

When he looks up, a soft smile appears. “It was always going to be this way. You and me, you know? I always knew it’d be the two of us in the end.”

I knew that line was coming, but I was not prepared to hear it come out of his mouth sounding like that. The honest tone of his voice is enough for me to throw all caution to the wind.

I know it’s just a line in this scene, but it feels like way more. It’s just Emmett and me in our little world, just the two of us. No one knows what we feel for each other, and we haven’t even fully admitted that to one another.

I look at the script between our bodies, contemplating my next move. I could stick with the script, deliver the lines, and that’d be that. I feel prepared enough for the showcase. Although I know the reason this feels easy is because it’s with Emmett. Romance scenes are always easier when you have a more intimate relationship with your partner.

You know what? The past few months, I've been sticking to my comfort zone and playing it safe. I've been working twice as hard and focusing on preparing for this showcase. I've spent hours and hours working on my craft, all with the goal of securing a role that proves to myself this move was worthwhile.

Fuck it.

I look up from the script, meeting Emmett’s eyes with mine. I drop the script between us and move both of my hands slowly up his chest, to his shoulders, and clasp them behind his head.

I bite my lip, drawing his gaze quickly to my mouth before it snaps back to my eyes.

“I want to kiss you,” I say in an even tone.

Emmett’s eyes widen, his eyebrows furrow, and his head tilts by default. He turns his head to the right and looks at the script still in his hand. He quickly scans for the line I delivered. Knowing him, he more than likely memorized my response to what he said, and the line I just said is not in the script.

By the time his eyes meet mine, his cheeks are flushed with light pink. “That’s not in the script.”

I shake my head, my hands still clasped around his neck. I rock forward, bringing our chests mere inches apart.

“It’s called improv, Hotshot,” I tease, throwing his words back in his face.

Emmett rolls his eyes, dipping, then shaking his head with a small chuckle.

With his head still dropped, he glances up at me through his eyelashes.

“Are you going to keep staring at me, or are you going to kiss—”

I’m cut off by Emmett’s hand grabbing my neck, pulling my face to his. Our lips slam into one another.

This kiss differs from the first kiss. That kiss was short-lived, a small peck. It was like dipping your toes into the water, trying to feel if you want to go in deeper. This kiss is the opposite. It’s a full on cannonball.

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