Page 89 of The Love Rematch
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
emily
Cooper’sstrong hand grips her hip as he rolls her over in the bed. His broad chest weighs her down as their bodies mold together. She tangles her fingers in his hair and drops her head back while he trails kisses down the side of her neck.
It would all be incredibly romantic if not for two things.
One, as ridiculously hot as he is, she doesn’t feel that way about him at all. And two, there’s a camera about five feet from her face, sort of killing whatever mood might have existed in the first place.
As Cooper works his way down her throat to her collarbone, Emily finally can’t help it anymore and looks directly in the bulbous black lens, the way she’s been told many, many times she’s not supposed to do.
“Are we done yet? I thought the whole point of a dream suite was to bealone.” Her tone drops suggestively at the end of that sentence and Nina smirks.
“Yeah, we’ve got enough I think,” she says and taps Phil, the cameraman, on the shoulder. Finally, the little red dot on the side blinks off.
They’re free.
Cooper immediately rolls off of her, offering an apologetic grin as she straightens her shirt and sits up. But the show isn’t quite over yet. Emily takes his hand and kisses the top side of his palm, then gives Nina a pointed glare over his fingers.
“We’re going. We’re going,” the producer says and ushers her crew from the room. Before she leaves, though, she turns around in the doorway. “Wake-up is at 7 a.m. sharp tomorrow. We’re coming in without knocking, so whatever state you’re in is the state America will see you in. Then we’ll split you up. Emily, you’ll have about two hours with hair, makeup, and wardrobe before the final puzzle ceremony, which will be quick. No private conversations unless you really need to. Then as soon as we’re done filming, we’re headed to the airstrip and our final destination of the season. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Nina lingers for another moment. Emily throws a pillow at her head. The producer ducks with a laugh and closes the door behind her. Then finally,finally, they’re gloriously, blissfully alone. Emily turns to Cooper and lowers her voice to the barest whisper.
“Do you trust me?”
He knots his brows. “Yes.”
“Then go with it.”
Emily waits thirty seconds, the time she imagines it takes Phil to get his camera back on and pointed at the front door. She’s seen enough seasons ofThe Love Matchto know that just because the crew left the room doesn’t mean they’ve stopped filming. And she intends to give them a show.
“Oh, Cooper!” she suddenly exclaims in a passionate voice.
He quickly covers his mouth to stifle a laugh. She grabs him by the arm and pulls him to his feet. They stumble into the wall close to the door with an audiblethud.
“Cooper!”
He smirks, then with a low growl that actually does give her stomach a little flurry, he says, “Emily. My god, Emily.”
“Cooper.”
She knocks a book off a countertop, trying not to laugh as it smacks the floor. Getting into it now, Cooper grabs her around the waist. He hoists her into the air and carries her across the room, which brings them directly in front of the not-so-opaque curtains. If she were a betting woman, she would guess Phil is knee deep in African grasses right now, less concerned with a lion attack than with the verbal lashing Trish would give him if he missed this shot.
“Cooper!”
“Emily!”
He pushes her back against the curtain, their bodies no doubt silhouetted by the soft lamplight. Emily throws her hands above her head and passionately grabs a fistful of fabric. Suddenly, something snaps. They both tumble to the floor in a fit of giggles, half the curtain dropping behind them. It must look absurd from the other side of the glass. She throws in an overly loud gasp of pleasure before Cooper helps her to her feet.
Emily quickly turns off all the lights but one, a small lantern by the bed bright enough to still see Cooper’s face. They quiet down while they wait for Nina and company to get bored. He stands watch by the door, peeking through the spyhole. After about five minutes, footstepsthudsoftly down the raised walkway outside the door.
“They’re gone,” he says, turning back to her. “Now, want to tell me what that was all about?”
“In a minute.” Emily jumps to her feet. “First, we have to finish setting the scene.”
She tosses one set of the silk pajamas to him and takes the other. They turn back-to-back and quickly change. Then Emily grabs their clothes. She hangs her bra over the lamp and his boxers off the bedpost. Their shirts and pants get discarded in a trail leading from the front door of the suite. She empties a nearby countertop and gently places the books along the ground in what she hopes looks like the arc of a passionate table clear. He scatters the pillows about the floor, but something is still missing.
