Page 18 of Hot Set

Pause. Brandon’s shoulders slumped.

“I know,” he said. “I will. I promise. Okay?”

Another pause. Brandon tapped his fingers on the kitchen counter and sighed. “Well, I can’t just quit this—I know, but when I started, you said—”

Pause.

“Well, how was I supposed to know how long it would—” Brandon’s voice had changed, becoming more frustrated.

Pause. Brandon looked toward me and offered a weak smile.

“I know, Dad. Okay. I mean… all right. Bye.”

Brandon ended the call and slid his phone further down the counter. With a sigh, he buried his face between his hands.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

Brandon sighed and plopped onto the sofa beside me. “It’s my dad,” he said.

“He… wants you to join the family business?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Brandon replied, “And he won’tstopgoing on about it. I honestly think he…I mean, he agreed to fund this film, so I guess Ishouldn’tcomplain. But now, he’s mad because it’s going on longer than he wants. How was I supposed to know how long it takes to make a film? I’ve never done it before, and I can’t just quit.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Brandon shook his head. “I know it sounds like I’m whining,” he said. “I don’t mean to. I just… I’m frustrated.”

“I get that,” I said.

I hesitantly placed a hand on his forearm and leaned a little closer. The warmth of his body seemed to drift in and mix with mine. “It’ll be okay,” I said.

“I don’t know that it will be,” Brandon said bitterly. “My father is becoming quickly tired of funding my passion projects. I guess when he agreed to fund this one, he didn’t expect it to take so long.”

I nodded; unsure what else I could offer.

“It’s just—it’s not just aboutme. It’s all the other people working on this project, too!” Brandon exclaimed.

He shifted around on the sofa and looked directly at me. His steel-blue eyes bore into me, and it felt as if Brandon could see everything about me. Every little thought that had ever entered into my head. My breath caught. Brandon leaned closer, so close that his breath came in short, puffs against my cheek. My heart hammered in my chest. It seemed as if time itself had become suspended around us, and when Brandon leaned just a half-inch closer, something about the known world shattered.

His lips were against mine. They were softer than I expected. His breath smelled like freshly brewed coffee and cream, and the scent of it mingled with the scent of his cologne, dark and woodsy. All my thoughts swirled around, disconnected. Brandon was warm and smelled nice, and he was kissing me. So, I kissed him back. I knew how to kiss. It was as natural as breathing.

As Brandon’s hands went to the small of my back, I curled my hands in his hair and pulled him closer to me. I tilted my head and kissed him in earnest, drinking in the scent and taste of him. Even when we broke the kiss, I remained close and pressed my forehead against his. “Is that better?” I asked.

“A little,” Brandon said, sounding nearly breathless.

He pulled me into another kiss, and I let him. I shifted closer, as close as I could. The sofa dipped beneath me. Brandon fell backward, or lay backward. I was too busy kissing him andgetting close to him to really notice. I clambered over him and broke the kiss again. Color rose to Brandon’s face. I gasped for air as I leaned over him. My hands trembled as I traced the smooth muscles of his chest. Somehow, I’d overlooked how tight his shirt was and how much it showed. Brandon traced the line of my spine. My breath came in a sharp, little hitch. Every little touch sent warmth pulsing through my body, all the way down to my bones. Brandon shifted and pulled me under him.

I was half-hard from his touch, and when he leaned over me, my face warmed from the intensity in his eyes. When his hands found the zipper of my jeans, a delighted shiver shot through my spine. Brandon looked at me, his eyes searching my face. I nodded. After he unzipped my pants, I lifted my hips and let him ease them down. My boxers came next. The air in his apartment was cold against my bare thighs. I felt exposed; wonderfully exposed.

Brandon moved closer. I shivered in anticipation. Everything seemed more vibrant, hotter and brighter. Slowly, Brandon lowered his head. His hair brushed against my hips and my belly. Then, his tongue eased against my tip.

I tilted my head back and shifted my hips, coaxing him onward, but Brandon needed no urging. He took my whole length in with a jarring suddenness. I groaned and groped blindly before digging my fingers into the fabric of his sofa. Brandon began with slow licks, up and down, and every movement sent a jolt of warmth and pleasure through my belly. My muscles all tensed. “Oh, God,” I said.

Brandon made some sort of muffled noise. I leaned up slightly and watched the movements of his blond head as he worked me up and down. He sped up, and I groaned. Brandon had clearly done this a lot, and I felt like I was on fire, every cell of my body hot and ready. His hand fondled my balls, and I came. For a second, everything grew blurry. I gasped and threw an arm overmy face. I’d never really understood why orgasms were always talked about as some great and wonderful thing, but I didthen.

I sat upright, peeling my sweat-damp skin from the sofa. Brandon watched me; his eyes darkened. Even through the fabric of his jeans, I could see that he was hard. “I’ve never done this before,” I said, in a voice that didn’t sound much like mine.

But I was going to do this. Brandon had done this for me.

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