Page 42 of Ship Wrecked

Which was, incidentally, something else Cassia dropped to her knees and did.

He scrubbed his hands over his face.Professional, Peter. Remain professional.

“Maria?” Delia apparently required words in response to her question, which was fair. “Does anything about the opening of the scene make you uncomfortable?”

Maria kind of jerked in her seat, blinking rapidly.

“Oh,” she said blankly, then seemed to recall her surroundings. “No, I’m good.”

Delia’s ponytail swayed as she tilted her head. “Are you certain? Because you have the right to express and impose physical boundaries, Maria. In scenes like this, agreement and consent are paramount.”

“I’m absolutely certain.” Slowly, a wicked grin crept over Maria’s flushed face. “In fact, I look forward to Peter throwing me around a little.”

When he choked on thin air and reached for his mug of ice water, she reached over and slapped his back.

“I consider it an irreplaceable opportunity to watch how an experienced actor approaches scenes like these,” she added, her tone suspiciously prim.

Once he’d stopped coughing, Delia turned to him. “How about you, Peter? Are you comfortable?”

No. Not in any possible sense. But only one of his reasons for discomfort was something he’d share with a near-stranger.

“I just don’t want to do anything that might scare or harm Maria.” He paused. “Actually, let me rephrase that. Iwon’tdo anything that might scare or harm her, no matter what Ron and R.J. might want. That’s my priority and my only concern.”

At that, Delia shot him a look of warm approval and leaned over to give him a lingering pat on the arm. “Beautifully stated,Peter. That sentiment is rarer than you’d like to think, and exactly what I want to hear.”

For some reason, Maria was scowling at him now. Which made zero sense, because why the hell would his declaration that he considered her safety more important than the showrunners’ demands piss her off? Shouldn’t she be sending him melting glances of admiration too?

Although, of course, he hadn’t said it for her approval. At the end of this scene, he had to live with himself. If he frightened her, hurt her, he couldn’t. Period.

“Don’t worry, Peter.” She was smiling again, but her jaw remained oddly tight. “I trust you not to hurt me that way.”

His brows drew together. Something about that phrasing—

“Let’s talk about what you’ll both wear.” Delia turned her tablet’s screen to face them. “Eventually, both your characters are meant to appear naked to viewers. Postproduction can take care of a lot, but we try to make their jobs as easy as possible while still preserving your comfort and safety. For your scene, I’d suggest that you both wear strapless thongs like these, ones that adhere to the body and match your skin color. Maria, you’d wear a silicone guard underneath, so there wouldn’t be any direct genital-to-genital contact, even through fabric. And on top, pasties would provide nipple coverage.”

Oh, jeez. He knew precisely—precisely—what Maria would say in response to the whole pasties thing.

Peter tunneled his fingers through his hair and tugged at a handful. Hard.

“Oh, I don’t need pasties,” Maria breezily, predictably proclaimed. “I don’t care who sees my nipples. After all, Peter won’t be wearing pasties, will he?” She paused. “On-screen, I mean. Whathe does on his own time, for recreational purposes, is none of my concern.”

Discreetly, he angled his raised middle finger so only she could see it.

At her muffled snort, he found himself fighting a genuine smile for the first time all day.

“You’re certain, Maria?” Delia’s forehead creased as she typed a note to herself. “Remember that you can change your mind at any time during filming.”

“That’s good to know, but I don’t expect to.” Maria tucked a stray lock of blond hair behind her ear. “Can you tell me more about how the thongs adhere?”

He’d been wondering about that himself. “Yeah, wouldn’t the adhesive, uh... cause some issues?”

“You mean, when you remove the thongs?” Judging by Delia’s beam, she considered him a prize pupil for asking the question. “That was my next suggestion. Before attaching them, it’s better to shave or wax your bikini line, so taking them off doesn’t cause depilation and discomfort. Same with your genital guard, Maria.”

He winced. Then winced again, because he knew. He already knew what Maria—

“That won’t work for me.” Her statement was cheerful but firm. “I don’t shave, and I don’t wax. Peter?”

The tips of his ears went hot. “Um, the same.”

---