Page 24 of Erik

She sighs, places a hand on my chest, and I hiss with the electric jolt that charges through my muscles. Her hazel eyes widen when syncopated heartbeats vibrate under her warm palm.

In a daze, I move my lips, but can’t articulate words. That’s a first.

Sexy tension galvanizes the air, flushing blood to my groin and my thoughts to the gutter. I tip her head back, lean in, and slant my mouth over her pouty lips, poise to devour. Christine traces my upper lip with the tip of her tongue and pulls away. My skin sizzles. Heat radiates from that non-contact point. I burn in the sexiest kind of hell, the one suspended in that fraction of time we take to make our next move. I want it rough. She skims my mouth with tenderness as heady as the best wine. I know frantic. She entices me with sweet. I can ’t handle sugary treats.

I entangle my hands in her curls to hide their tremor and plunder her mouth as air gets sucked out of my lungs. She strokes my tongue, framing my cheeks in her hands, panting with me.

My intended teasing escalates to hair-tousling foreplay. I glide a hand down her spine to cup her ass, squeezing it as I deepen our kiss. She gaps, raking her nails on my neck, hooking her fingers around my shoulders.

This isn’t enough. I need her spread-eagled, shackled to my four-poster bed, thrashing in ecstasy from an endless series of orgasms under the leathery tip of my whip.

Catcalls and whistles pierce the fantasy, dragging me back from the ledge of the abyss. I tug her lower lip between my teeth as I withdraw from the bone-melting kiss. I scan her face, puffing out my chest at the sight of her heavy lids, flush cheeks, and heaving breasts.

Dipping my head, I nibble her earlobe, and whisper, “That’s almost the look I want to see on your face after we fuck.” She widens her eyes but doesn’t rebuke me. I emphasize with a wink, “Almost.”

She remains muted, gasping for air.

I smirk. Adding in the same low voice meant for her ears only, “We can perfect that expression after a couple of rounds sweating my bedsheets.” I thumb a nipple pricking the tight fabric of the barely-there top she wears. “Dinner. 7pm. My place.”

Before receiving her acceptance, I settle her ass on a spot on the bed to my left.

She huffs, but still doesn’t utter a word.

I unfold my stiff body, and hiding a painful erection behind the guitar, I whistle my way out through the nearest exit, pretending I don’t have a care in the world.

Luckily for me, I don’t meet anyone on the walk from soundstage five to my trailer.

When my arm goes numb from gripping the neck of the guitar, I drop it to my side, and swing the door open, stepping inside the cool office.

“Finally,” Ally Howard, the lead actress greets me from my chair. “I was about to leave you a nasty note." Her dark blue eyes sparkle with simmering annoyance.

I settle the guitar on the couch and shoot my hands up in surrender. "What have I done this time?"

She grins, a wide smile that doesn’t touch her eyes. My blood curls. “Great question.” She snickers, “Man, you sure know how to pick them.”

“I’ll rephrase it. What has Rita done this time?"

Ally purses her lips, “Oh, nothing much. She popped up at Pat’s trailer, demanding he fucked her, in character.” She shoves an index finger inside her mouth, pretending to barf. “Talk about nuts, right? Well, too bad for her, our leading man isn’t into ladies. Obviously, Rita took her frustrations out on the furniture. She trashed the place.”

I plop my ass on the couch, sinking my elbows on my knees, lacing my fingers. I hold Ally’s gaze waiting for her to wrap the story.

She goes on, “The man had a couple of scenes to shoot today, thanks to you who kept postponing that fucking hotel scene, by the way. So, little old me here had to stop by for this nice chat."

I shake my head. “She’s the unwanted gift that keeps on giving. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

Ally stands up, dusting her hands. “Guess my work here is done. I’ll leave you to it.”

I nod in goodbye. She takes a step toward the exit, and I blurt out. “Funny how Logan convinced the writers to add a totally fictional character to a biographical movie, don’t you think?”

She snaps her head over a shoulder to pierce at me. Knitting her eyebrows, she asks, “What do you mean?”

I scoff. “Didn’t you know your character never existed in real life? I’ve never fallen in love.”

That truth grates my chest from inside. I frown. It never used to hurt like that before.

She swirls to face me. Shrugging, she mutters, “I know she isn’t a real person, but I assumed she was a mix of varying ladies you guys have met.”

I shake my head. “Nope. We all fool around to our hearts’ content, but we’ve never fallen in love. We’re happily single and emotionally unavailable.”

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