Page 82 of Rebel Romeo

He’s so good.

So fucking good.

“No,” I say firmly, but my voice croaks with the word. I clear my throat and say, “That would be a lie. I never said I didn’t want you. I said I didn’t love you. They’re totally different.” The torment in my voice makes him tilt his head, studying me. But neither of us moves. We stand feet apart, cemented to the floor. Both characters sticking to their stories.

“Are they?” There’s a slight lift to Holden’s mouth. A cocky, self-assured smirk and he tilts his head playfully.

I swallow. He’s a couple feet away, but it might as well be centimeters. His body heat radiates off of him, the energy pulsing between us. “Yes. They are.” Agony quivers in my voice. My expression, tortured and twisted as I struggle to hold his stare.

The slight lift to Holden’s mouth twitches. Not fully lifting into a smile, but creasing his flashing eyes every so slightly. “You’re a liar.” His voice is raw. Barely a whisper.

His stride is fast, closing the distance between us in three quick steps. I’m still gasping in the seconds it takes for him to cup my jaw and pull my face to his, taking my lips in an all-encompassing kiss.

He makes a strangled sound as his lips maneuver mine. Pliable, soft velvet, his tongue sweeps into my mouth and he swallows my whimper.

Five years of pain and betrayal disappear in an instant. A month of rehearsals and torture and watching him with another woman recede with that kiss. We’re suddenly college undergrads again, horny and desperate kids who don’t know the power of our own chemistry.

Chemistry that I never asked for and didn’t want, but yet am powerless to control. His arms wrap around me, pulling somehow closer, though I wouldn’t have thought that possible. And then, his hands are at my thighs, my butt and I’m in the air, wrapping my legs around his waist, his hard cock pressing into my soft center.

A slow clap breaks the magic between us. Our lips separate, noses still brushing. His golden eyes, still spellbound, stare at me.

Panting, Holden lowers me to the ground as the slow clap gets louder.

By the sarcastic rhythm of it, I expect to look up and find Missy there. But it isn’t. Erik Dorsey stands offstage, clapping at our performance while Holden and I struggle to catch our breath.

“Now that is scene work,” Senator Dorsey says. “Ellis… Addison, I hope you took notes.”

Ellis blushes and quickly casts his eyes down at his script, scribbling in the margins. What the fuck is he writing? Kiss Kate with tongue and hump her senseless?

Meanwhile when I make eye contact with Addison, I’m not met with the hate or derision I expect. But pity glistens in her eyes as she stares back at me.

That look, that pity, stirs something deep inside me. Shame. Guilt. Am I really this weak that an onstage kiss from Holden can shake me to my core? Our chemistry, our kisses were never the problem. If anything, it was our greatest strength. It was the CPR that kept our relationship—if you can call it that—alive for as long as it did.

“Dad—” Holden starts to say, but Erik stops him.

“Oh, son, please. You always were a gifted actor.” Senator Dorsey’s eyes are trained on me as he says the word actor.

“You’re early for the producer’s meeting,” Holden growls.

“Oh, I just thought I’d have a peek in to see how rehearsals are going. And I’m glad I did.”

There’s an unspoken conversation happening in the silence between the father and son. Finally, Holden spins around, addressing the actors. “Let’s call it a day. See you all tomorrow morning at nine a.m.”

Holden storms offstage, going somewhere in the back without so much as a wave goodbye to me. Ellis bolts out of the theater and Addison isn’t far behind him, both quick to get the hell out of there.

Missy avoids me as well, going off in the back somewhere to chat with Maggie.

I’m the only idiot who seems to linger, hoping to get one final glimpse of Holden. Hoping to chat with him about Nolan… about Missy… about us.

“You and I haven’t had a chance to talk. Just the two of us,” Senator Dorsey says behind me.

I clam up, every muscle in my body knotting at the proximity of that man to me. “I’m not sure why we would,” I manage to say. Even though inside, I’m a trembling mess, my voice comes out surprisingly calm and collected. Cooler than I’ve ever been in my entire life.

“Really? That’s the angle you’re going for?” Senator Dorsey snorts, the sound so much like Holden that it turns my stomach.

After a slow, deep breath, I spin to face him. “Your tactics might have worked when I was a scared eighteen-year old freshman, but they’re not going to work now.”

“My tactics? Are you joking?” His laugh booms in the otherwise quiet theater and he glides his hands seemingly casually into his pockets. “You’re the one person in my entire life they never worked on. I think in some ways, it’s made me respect you all these years.”

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