Page 78 of Keep It

One of the art department guys takes a guilty sip ignoring the annoyed gasps of his team. “What! I wanted those cinnamon bon bons and we scrapped the scene anyway.”

“Never have I ever…” The sound guy says, “been in a fight.”

Everyone freezes and whips their head to Danny. He gives a self-deprecating laugh and makes a show of taking a drink. The sound guy laughs and claps him on the shoulder, the tension dissolving into friendly ribbing.

“Oh, I love this song!” Sadie says. “Let’s dance.”

Jess jumps up and grabs my hand tugging me onto the dance floor. I feel Danny’s eyes on me as I sway to the music, the song so different to the romantic jazz from the club the night we got together. If I sway my hips a bit more than necessary, that’s the tequila not me.

The night gets significantly more lax, with the lights turning dim and the music getting louder. People mingle between the seats and as more people arrive, the crew spreads out and creates a barrier against the general public. Maybe that is why Danny has eased up. He’s even started a conversation with the camera guy next to him.

I sit close to Danny’s side, having barely left his eyesight without him texting me and demanding I return. Despite trying to hold a conversation with one of the costume girls next to me, I keep an eye on the various crew. Every now and then, I spot the telltale signs of gossip, as people look at him and whisper to each other.

It’s not uncommon for cast and crew to mingle after wrap, but it was a given that Danny Covington is too famous for it to not be talked about.

The man in question hasn’t looked at me for a while, too engrossed in his conversation, but my whole body is burning in anticipation — or stress — that any second one of us will slip and all our colleagues will twig that I’ve been shagging the talent.

The leg I have pressed against Danny’s starts to fidget as I sip my wine. Lightly, the side of his pinky finger grazes my bare leg and I freeze. Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, he hasn’t moved, just brushing his finger against my twitching knee, a silent command to still. My heart begins to pound, but I plant my feet firmly on the ground still entertaining Eva from costume’s story about her girlfriend.

As I nod at Eva, the pad of his fingers slowly travels across the flesh of my thigh.

I stop breathing.

No one else has noticed, packed into this tight corner in the dark. Goosebumps raise where his finger traces.

I don’t even have to look at him to know he’s noticed the effect he has. His minute actions increase, until he’s blatantly rubbing my thigh. A wave of heat floods me, pulsing with every brush of his fingers. The crowded bar, with all our colleagues surrounding us, makes my head rush. If his hand continues to move upwards, those strokes would eventually reach the place between my thighs…

“I’m getting a drink.” I announce to the group standing on unstable feet, cutting off Eva.

I catch his eye as I turn for the bar, the heat in his eyes unmistakable despite the smile he’s biting back. I glare and flounce to the bar, my half full wine glass still in hand.

I reach the bar and down my glass as I wait for a bartender.

Suddenly, I feel heat on my back and know he’s followed me. I want to lean backwards onto his chest but I’m hyper-aware of all the eyes in this place.

Leaving the sanctuary of the group, he is much more vulnerable to being recognized. No one has asked him for an autograph yet, thank God, but it’s only a matter of time.

A tingle shoots down my spine as his hand rests on my hip, out of view of the crowds around us.

He leans closer, “Something got you worked up?”

Gulping, I look into his piercing blue eyes. “We’re in public.”

His eyes flutter as he bends closer to my face.

“I think that’s working you up more, isn’t it baby?” he whispers. “Such naughty thoughts to have out in the open.”

I release my breath slowly, a blush spreading across my cheeks.

He chuckles. The bastard knows exactly what he does to me.

Turning his body inwards, pressing me against the bar and shielding me from view, he bends to my ear, his breath making me shiver. “Meet me in the bathroom.”

Before I have a chance to reply, he stalks off into the crowd.

“Pourvous?” the bartender asks.

“Ne t’inquiète pas.” I mumble, glancing back at the crew. No one looks in my direction.

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