Page 64 of The Casting Couch

“Oh, honey,” she said with a wink.“You’ll be fine.Just think of it as a spa treatment.A weird, messy, protein-rich spa treatment.”

I made the sound of a dying cow.

“I’m just saying,” she went on, now attacking my eyebrows with a tiny brush, “if I had twenty guys surrounding me, giving me their...devotion?That’s basically a sex goddess fantasy.I mean, I get to make them feel good and they’re all thinking about me.It’s like being worshipped.Ugh.”She sighed and visibly shivered.“I’m ovulating just thinking about it.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled, laughing despite myself.

She smacked my knee affectionately.“You’ll live.And you look hot, babe.Seriously.Soft, innocent, like a milkmaid in peril.Perfect.”

Just then, the door creaked open and the first few guys shuffled in.They looked...normal.Like gym bros, who’d lost a bet.Some had duffel bags, others were already in robes and giggling like it was summer camp.

I gave them a weak smile and stood up, still very much dissociating.Moira was suddenly surrounded by dicks and delighted.I slipped out before I could hear her nickname for any of them.

The set was like walking into a dream designed by a gay art director on mushrooms.White vinyl floor.A circle of stools.Cherry blossoms falling from a vent that I’m pretty sure was meant for ventilation, not poetic ambiance.

And in the middle of it all stood Liam, holding a clipboard, looking way too businesslike for a man about to supervise a 20-man jerkfest.

“Bradley,” he said.“There you are.You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I said.

“You look great.Moira really brought out your ‘submissive but hopeful’ vibe.”

“Thank you, I think.”

He gestured to a stool in front of the camera.“Let’s get the interview done before this place turns into the world’s stickiest drum circle.”

I sat, took a deep breath, and tried not to think about what was happening next.

Until, of course, the door opened again.

And Nico walked in.

Wearing nothing but a robe, some gleaming body oil, and a sheepish grin that hit me straight in the solar plexus.

He looked amazing.Nico’s hair was still slightly damp, like he’d just showered.His skin was tan, golden, stupidly smooth.His chest was broad, his arms thick with definition, and his thighs—Christ.

Our eyes met.He raised a brow, that smirk of his twitching into place.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I echoed.My voice cracked.Like I was thirteen again.Like I was seeing my crush at gym class, shirtless, sweaty, unattainable.

Except this time, he wasn’t unattainable.

He was here.

He was one of them.

And suddenly, of all the guys in that lineup, of all the random dicks, I realized his was the only one I didn’t dread.

No, worse.

His was the one I wanted.

Shit.

Liam positioned himself behind the camera and adjusted the mic.“Okay, Bradley.These are the questions the clients sent over.Just answer them naturally.Be...enthusiastic.”

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