Page 104 of The Casting Couch

Warmth spread through me.I snuggled closer to him, my head fitting perfectly into the crook of his shoulder.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” I confessed, my voice quiet.“About anyone.”

He kissed the top of my head, his arms tightening around me.“Neither have I,” he said.“It’s scary, isn’t it?But it’s also...real.”

I nodded against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.“Real,” I echoed.But this felt more intense, more connected.Was I falling in love with Nico?Like, truly in love?

ChapterTwenty-Five

Bradley

Iwoke up wrapped in warmth, the kind that didn’t come from sunlight or blankets, but from the weight of Nico’s arm slung across my chest and the way his thigh tangled between mine.Against the back of my neck, he breathed softly; his chest rose and fell in rhythm with mine, as if we were synced in some secret language of sleep.

The smell of him—faintly citrusy deodorant, faded cologne, and the ghost of last night’s sex—clung to the sheets.My entire body ached, but in that earned it kind of way.My legs were sore, my back was a little tight, and I swear my mouth still tasted like his.Which was… fine.Perfect, actually.

I smiled into the pillow, not ready to move.Last night hadn’t been porn.It hadn’t been a performance.It had been slow, clumsy in spots, tender in others, but god, it was so real.I hadn’t felt like a character or a walking paycheck.I’d felt like a person.Like someone worthy of being held.

Then the buzzing started.

Somewhere far off, like through a tunnel or behind a wall.A low, insistent buzz that cut through the silence.I barely registered it.Just a phone, probably.Nico’s?Mine?A neighbor’s?Who cared?I buried my face deeper into the pillow.The buzzing stopped.I relaxed.

And then my brain caught up.

What if it’s my parents?

What if something happened?

What if it’s Brooke, my parole officer?

My eyes shot open.

SHIT.

Was I supposed to meet with her today?Was today Tuesday?Or was it Thursday?I’d lost track.Time didn’t exist when you were naked and still sore from being railed into oblivion.

I cursed under my breath, slowly peeling Nico’s arm off of me like I was disarming a bomb.He stirred a little, made a sleepy little grunt that tugged at something in my chest, but didn’t wake up.Good.Let him sleep.He deserved it.

I padded out of the bedroom on bare feet, shivering a little as I stepped into the cooler air of the living room.The windows glowed with early morning light, golden and quiet, like the city hadn’t fully decided to wake up yet.

Where the hell was my phone?

I scanned the couch.The coffee table.Under the couch?On the windowsill?I didn’t remember putting it down.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

Back to the bedroom.My pants were crumpled on the floor, half under the bed.I dropped to my knees, dug into the pockets, and there it was.

Screen lit up.

Missed call—Brooke K.(Parole Officer)

Voicemail (1)

Double shit.

I speed-walked back into the living room like a man racing the clock on a bomb, thumbed her number, and pressed the phone to my ear.My heart was hammering in my chest.I felt sweaty and cold and naked all over again.

She answered on the second ring.“Hey, Bradley.”

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