Page 52 of Off Script

Acceptable PDA: hand-holding, hugging, kissing on thecheek and/or lips, dependent on situation.

Social media posts allowed when agreed upon.

The conditions looked acceptable to her, but finding the right opening to give them to Tristan—and most likely end up bargaining about them again—would be harder. All too soon, a fateful knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Leaving the closed notebook on the living-room table, she went to let Tristan in. Standing at the apartment’s threshold, he held up a bag of pretzels and sodas.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly. Why she was breathless was anyone’s guess. All he’d done was walk into the entryway with a load of carbs.

“Hey, I brought us some provisions. I figured we should stock up on some snacks for the rehearsal,” he said.

His casual act killed her. He was behaving as if nothing had happened. As if they hadn’t been moments away from getting to know each other intimately.Veryintimately. Now, he was all friendly conversation. Where were the suggestive tone and smoldering look from this morning?

“Thanks,” she said, setting the food on the table. “I’ve got the part of the script they sent over.”

“I brought my copy as well.” Tristan compared his copy with hers, confirming that they’d been handed the same scene. In it, her character was a rogue assassin while Tristan was a bodyguard who had been selected to protect her when her kill or be killed lifestyle caught up with her. As he skimmed the script in quiet contemplation, Jada discreetly scrutinized him. She’d placed the dating rules notebook right next to the printed screenplay, hoping to arouse his curiosity, but Tristan had completely skipped over it. Either he was avoiding the topic and their encounter this morning or he was taking this opportunity much more seriously than she’d first thought. She was surer of his dedication when Tristan abruptly launched into director mode.

“Since this scene is pretty intense between the two leads and takes place right in the middle of a big action sequence, do you mind if we really go for it?”

“Go for it?”

“As in if I sprint across your living room and potentially damage some sofa cushions, will you rip me a new one?” Tristan’s wild grin came back.

“The cushions, no. My mama’s china, yes. But I guess a fair bit of running around will help bring this to life,” Jada said, thrilled about Tristan’s enthusiastic insights.

“Great! Then let’s get started.” Tristan tossed aside the script.

“Wait, you’re already off book?” Piercing insecurity hit her that Tristan had already finished memorizing his lines while she was still glancing down at hers.

“Oh yeah, my memory is pretty sharp. Are you ready?”

Jada nodded with a certainty she didn’t feel before starting off with her first line.

“I don’t need your protection! I’ve been taking down drug lords and dirty politicians for years. If anyone is in over their head, it’s you.”

Tristan cocked his head arrogantly. “Oh really? Then why are there at least three impending threats coming right at us?”

“What threats?” Jada asked.

At this point in the script, Tristan was supposed to protect her from a bomb aimed at them. Tristan modified the action by grabbing Jada and diving behind the couch. When they got back up, Tristan nodded in approval.

“That was good but maybe we can up the energy.”

“More energy than couch diving?” She laughed, feeling a potential bruise blossoming on her butt.

But over the course of the next several run-throughs, Jada learned that yes, there were even higher-energy risks they could take. They dashed from the foyer to the hallway closet. A misguided test run of hiding behind the tub’s shower curtain also came into play. The whole rehearsal was turning into a blast as they chased each other through the apartment, tossing lines back and forth.

Making a split-second decision, Jada navigated toward the kitchen. Tristan followed and the two of them were soon circling each other around the kitchen island. Jada said her first line and Tristan followed with his. Then in a swift motion, Tristan sailed over the kitchen island and wrapped Jada in his arms. He backed her up against the kitchen cabinets, boxing her in.

“It looks like you’ll be needing me after all.” He said his final line.

While they regained their breath from their escapade, they stayed locked in each other’s embrace for a second too long. Long enough for the tension, the heat, to rise. That electricity was back, the air charged with the pent-up sexual frustration they’d been fighting. But the kinetic pull proved too strong as Jada closed the distance between them.

The second their mouths touched, the world caught fire. Everything that had been building since their first collision led them to this intoxicating moment. To his tongue dancing with hers and his warm, strong hands clutching her waist. It was better than any slow dance at a lounge, a day at the beach, or sexual innuendos in a shower. Because this was real. It was now. And extremely fucking urgent, Jada decided as Tristan lifted her onto the countertop and pulled her legs around his waist.

With Tristan pressed so tightly against her, Jada could feel his need. His hot desire searched out her own as he ground his hips. Thinking of them being closer, of him being inside her, caused her to let out a small, desperate sound. A moan she didn’t realize she’d been holding back. But with its release, a dam broke inside her.

Her exploration of him grew bolder, more fervent, as she slipped her hands under his shirt to caress his firm abs. He responded in kind, throwing Jada’s cardigan and camisole aside. With his luscious lips teasingly sucking on her neck, Jada was ready to give in to it all. Tristan could take her right here, right now. Hard, fast, deep, however he wanted. And let the consequences be damned because she wanted it. All of it.

Succumbing to her sultry fever, Jada was on the verge of giving her consent when Tristan cried out in pain.

---