Page 87 of Bombshells
“That will be a tough act to follow,” Samantha mutters from somewhere behind the bright lights.
“No shit,” Charli agrees.
I sort of ooze off the set on spongy knees, past a wide-eyed Bess, and head for the changing area, which is nothing more than several moveable screens that are hiding an alcove.
Keyanna greets me with a warm, damp towel. “For your face. That was smokin’, girl. Just damn.”
I press the towel to my face, wiping away an impressive amount of makeup, but the damp heat makes me feel even crazier than I already am. I duck behind those room dividers and replace the jacket on a clothes hanger.
Then I hear footsteps approaching.
When I glance up, Anton is standing there, his gaze on fire. “I have to know, Sylvie.”
“What?” I whisper, even though the music that’s still playing makes it hard to have a conversation.
“I have a question for you that I have no right to ask.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t?” My words are sharp, but my heart is pounding with expectation. Because I want him, but I also miss him. We’re friends, but we could be so much more.
“You told Campeau you were seeing someone.”
“Already?” I squeak. “Does he blurt out everything I say?”
He takes a step closer. My vision is full of Anton Bayer. It’s a struggle not to reach out and put my hands on his body. I think I can feel the heat radiating off of him. “Was it me that you were talking about?”
“I didn’t give him a name.”
“I know that,” he says, moving closer. “But he thought you were texting someone at the time. And you said you’d started something with the guy you were texting. Was it me?”
This is potentially embarrassing, because I had been texting with Anton, while also wishing he were more than just a friend I slept with once.
“Yes,” I admit. “You said you couldn’t be my dirty little secret. So I thought I should just tell Bryce that I was moving on. And then—if I hadn’t already screwed things up with you too badly—you might realize that he and I are really not a thing.”
“Not a thing,” he repeats, stepping closer, until I back right into the brick wall.
“Not even a tiny little thing,” I agree, and we’re so close that I can sense the rapid beating of his heart.
His lips twitch, and he runs a finger down my nose, which shouldn’t be sexy. But since it’s Anton Bayer we’re talking about, it’s basically foreplay. “Never call it a tiny little thing. A man will get offended.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
He kisses me.
Twenty-Eight
The Back Entrance
ANTON
I kiss Sylvie because I need a moment to think. And it works just about as well as you’d expect, since her gorgeous mouth already has my body on speed dial. So this is no ordinary kiss. It’s wet and dirty and a little angry.
I don’t know why I thought I could stay away from Sylvie. Good luck with that, seeing as I’ve got her tongue in my mouth, and her hands pinned against the brick wall.
In between kisses, I pull back and study her flushed face and her heavy-lidded brown eyes. “You make me crazy. You know that?”
We kiss some more, because we can’t seem to stop.
“I really like you,” she pants. “I know you’re Mr. Casual and everything. I’m not expecting to pick out wedding china. But we—”
