Page 27 of Beautiful Storm

“Hi, Amelia, is it?” He squints as though trying to grasp a hold of a fake memory, and I roll my eyes. “I’m Luke. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He holds out a hand for me to shake, and I stare down at his palm.

After we were all introduced and the producers spoke about their plans, we were given the opportunity to mingle and get to know each other. I immediately headed toward Storm’s headcoach, Jonathan Pierce, but was intercepted by Luke on my way over to him.

“Well?” Luke questions me when I don’t react with enthusiasm.

“Stay away from this one,” one of his teammates warns me as he joins us, his gaze sincere. “He’ll be in and out of your pants before you can say ‘he has a cute smile.’ Yes, he does, but that's how he gets you.”

Luke bursts out laughing, slapping his teammate on the back. “That and my giant cock.” He waggles his eyebrows, turning my way to catch me fake gag. “Don’t listen to Carter. He just wants you all for himself. But unfortunately for him, you’re off-limits.”

Carter laughs as he walks away, leaving Luke and me alone, or at least, out of earshot of others.

I’ve had a week to mull over this project and my impending proximity to Luke, but it wasn’t enough to quell the anger over the hand fate dealt me. I’m clearly being punished for my lapse in judgment after sleeping with him a couple of months ago, but while I’d give anything to remove myself from this unfortunate situation, I can’t. It's my dream.

“So…” Luke begins, his gaze darting back to the rest of my crew before settling on me again. “This is what you do?”

“It is. And trust me when I say, I’d rather be on any other project right now.”

“That’s a shame. I was thinking you could work our little tryst into the show somehow. I’m sure it would boost your career.”

“Ugh. We are not secret lovers. It happened once and it won’t happen again.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

My jaw drops at his straight face. He really does think highly of himself. “How does that head of yours fit through the door?” I question, genuinely curious.

“With style.” He winks while I mentally wince, embarrassed for him.

“Okay. Well, it was nice catching up with you, but I’ve got to mingle.” I put on a fake smile and wave before stepping away, but he grabs my arm at the last second, pulling me to a stop.

“I trust you’re not going to bring up certain things from our past,” he whispers between clenched teeth, his happy demeanor gone, while I work hard to keep a straight face, my pulse racing.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie before shaking myself free and walking away, my head held high, proud of myself for how I handled that little interaction. Especially considering his touch completely rattled me.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our night together, and being in his presence again makes it hard not to picture his naked body. And he had to touch me. A vision of his huge palm wrapped around his throbbing length comes to my mind, and I picture him walking toward me, his piercing eyes locked on mine while he—

Goddammit.

It’s such an unfortunate side effect to him being the title holder of the guy-who-gave-me-the-best-orgasm-of-my-life. Hayley tells me there are plenty of men out there that could make me feel that good, and that I’m comparing Luke to a low base, but I haven’t really been in the mood to find out. At the moment, my job is the priority. I can worry about my sex life later, when I have the time to not just unpack my sex with Luke, but to also figure out why the sex with Preston wasn’t as good. Was it me? If it was, I can’t afford to let myself spiral.

I don’t talk to Luke again during the meet and greet hour, but I sense his eyes on me whenever I’m close by. I, on the other hand, use all of my willpower to ensure I don’t so much as glance in his direction. This is going to be hard enough without me wasting energy on negative thoughts. No, the less I see Luke, the better.

As I’m leaving the building, an unfamiliar voice calls my name, and I turn to find Thomas Kelly walking toward me. Considering he’s the quarterback, I should have spoken to him tonight, but the producers were monopolizing his time. Thankfully I now have the chance.

“Thomas—”

“Amelia Rose, what are the chances?” A smile graces my face as I picture a fourteen-year-old Thomas accidentally throwing a football at my head.My fault, not his.

“Hi Thomas, it’s been a while.”

He smiles knowingly. “How have you been? I tried to catch up with you inside, but your producers love to chat.”

“You’ve got to be a good communicator in their role. As do I, but the difference is thatIknow when to stop.”

“On that note, you’ll be the one making the big decisions on what makes it to the screen, right?” He grimaces, and I bark out a laugh.

“Are you nervous about something?”

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