Page 55 of Hot Set

I curled my fingers so tightly around my suitcase that they hurt. Slowly, my feet seemed to move of their own accord, drifting backward and away from all the trouble and traffic of the airport. Back to the set, back to everyone, but above all else, back to Brandon. All my worries seemed to melt away, the further I got from the airport. Brandon and I could figure it out. Wewouldfigure it out. Any problems that arose, we’d figure them out. It could really be that simple. Itwouldbe that simple.

My mind suddenly broke free from the daze it had been in, and the world was thrust into sharp, glass-like clarity. Brandon.

I took off running, my feet pounding on the tiles as they took me further and further from the airport, away from my flight, and away from the FBI. Everything seemed insignificant beside the thought of seeing Brandon again. By the time I’d reached the parking lot, I was out of breath. My chest ached, and I gasped for air as I flagged down a taxi.

As I slipped into the back seat, my blood roared in my ears.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Bluehaven,” I said, hastily rambling out the movie studio’s address.

Brandon would be there. An excited shiver trailed down my spine. He wouldn’t expect me. This would catch him completely off-guard, but the thought of seeing him again and breathing in the spicy, forested scent of his cologne was too glorious, toocompelling to ignore. I let out a sharp breath of air and watched the buildings pass in a blur. This taxi ride was going to feel like an eternity.

The taxi dropped me off outside the studio with my suitcase and my carry-on luggage. My heart pounded so loudly I heard its beat reverberating in my skull, a steady thump. As I pushed the door open, my hand shook. A burst of warmth and sound rushed over me. The set looked just like when I’d left, but somehow, impossibly, I’d expected there to be some monumental change.

I drifted in, my heart racing. It felt as though I’d suddenly arrived in a movie, and I drifted across the set, rolling my suitcase behind me. I could imagine how it would all play out on camera. I’d look across the crowds of people, all lost in their work, and I’d see Brandon.

“Aren’t you supposed to be catching a flight?”

My fantasies fell apart. I shivered and spun around to face the owner of that warm, wonderful voice. “Brandon,” I said, all other words falling away.

Just his name. Maybe that was enough.

My heart pounded so loudly that I heard it echoing in my head. I sucked in a sharp breath of air along with the smell of Brandon’s cologne and acrylic paint. And somewhere along the way, I had forgotten how to think.

When I moved forward and pressed my lips to Brandon’s, it was as if I existed outside my own body, just for an instant. Then, the world shifted into brilliant clarity. Brandon twirled his fingers in my hair and pulled himself against me. His lips were soft and hot, and my thoughts grew heady at the heat between us. I pushed myself against him and dug my fingers into the fabric of his shirt. I kissed him again and again, savoring the feelof his lips against mine and the scent of him and the warmth from his skin. A low groan tore from me, and with a sharp suddenness, Brandon pulled back. His lips remained slightly parted, as he breathed in. I drank in greedy gulps of air, torn between steadying myself and pushing myself toward him once again.

“Alex, why are you here?” Brandon asked, his brow furrowing. “I thought you were supposed to go—”

“I was,” I said, nervous energy coursing through me, “But I couldn’t do it. Not when I thought about you.”

Brandon looked around. Our display hadn’t gone unnoticed. A few of the extras stared at us. Seth’s loud wolf-whistle split the air. Heat rushed to my face as Brandon’s gaze snapped back to me. Nervous energy flitted through me, like lightning across a summer sky. I thought of kissing him again, despite the people watching.

But that was getting ahead of myself.

“When I thought about us,” I added. “Could we go… somewhere more private? To your office or something?”

Brandon nodded, and we crossed the set and crammed into his office. It wasn’t much, and Brandon, who preferred working on the set, rarely used the room. Instead, it was a dumping ground for props, make-up, and lost items. Brandon locked the door behind us, before giving me a tentative look. Then, he moved aside a pile of fabric, freeing up a chair. Seeing there were no other seats, he climbed onto the broad, flat surface of his desk and sat there. “So, you…you’re here,” Brandon said, letting out a small laugh. “That’s—”

“A bad choice?” I asked. “No, not that. An illogical choice. But Brandon, I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I think—no, I know—that if I have to choose between the FBI and you, it’s you.”

“But why can’t you have both?” Brandon asked quietly.

“Because I don’t want to have a long-distance relationship with you. That isn’t enough for me. I want to see you and talk to you and touch you.” I paused. “And have sex with you. Because that was pretty great, even though I acted so awkwardly about it.”

“You had a lot to figure out,” Brandon said.

“I know. I’m only sorry it took me so long.”

Brandon let out an audible breath of air. “I didn’t think it took you all that long.”

“So, what happens now?” I asked.

“Whatever you want,” Brandon said.

I gathered my courage and stood. Slowly, I leaned forward, Brandon’s knees pressing against my thighs, and kissed him. His lips were as soft as I remembered; he smelled like I remembered. I shivered as Brandon’s hands found the small of my back and pulled me close against him. I swallowed hard and kept kissing him, as if the world were ending tomorrow and kissing Brandon might be the only way to save it.

Brandon’s hands were on my hips, and he broke our kiss, his eyes questioning. I bit my lip, as desire curled in my belly. The room seemed too warm with just the two of us in here. “Can anyone hear us?” I asked.

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