Page 79 of How Jenna Became My Dilemma

I’m all in.

Feeling everything my character would feel.

I watch in anticipation as Cody’s eyes drop to my lips, then slowly lift, meeting my stare with an intensity I can’t even comprehend. I’m fixed against the wall, waiting for him to make the first move. Our gazes hold steady as he lowers his head to mine. At the last second, I close my eyes, concentrating on the soft skims of his lips and the brush of his beard against my skin. Everything is slow and restrained, even how his hands hold my waist. I feel valuable in his arms, like an antique he plans to delicately take care of for the rest of his life.

The kiss is all about our lips, how they snag and catch with every lightly flirtatious and playfully seductive graze. We’re feeling each other’s energy, trusting and believing that, together, we know what the moment needs.

And we both know we need more.

Cody pulls back just enough to scan my eyes. We share a fleeting moment, a charged stare before agonizing desire drives us forward again. Our bodies collide with all the force of repressed passion, with every ounce of chemistry we’ve built but never acted on.

The kiss becomes a dynamic dance, a tango of physicality with raw passion, sensuality, and strong emotions. I once thought Cody and I had nothing in common, but our physical closeness tells a different story. It’s a window to an intimate connection bigger than anything I’ve ever experienced.

In Malibu, he asked how I liked to be held, but he already seems to know. His hands press against my back, pushing my body closer, and I willingly come, loving the feeling of being wanted, desired in a way that he’s helpless against.

I comb my fingers through the back of his hair—something I’ve dreamed about a hundred times. I hold his body to me, feeling every hard line of his chest and arms—another thing I’ve dreamed about a hundred times. And I return his fevered kiss with my own desperate need for gratification.

I focus on Cody’s taste, smell, arms, his hold against my body, and the heaviness of his chest pressed against mine. It all triggers an intensity inside me, a g-force I can’t withstand. The kiss heightens, changes, spins to new levels as our bodies learn and grow together. We’re weightless, falling through time in a beyond-vertical drop filled with ecstasy and thrill.

Each second that ticks on, we obliterate the unspoken rules and lines.

Feelings are no longer suppressed.

There are no more restrictions.

No holding back.

“Queen Marielle said her line.”

I don’t stop.

“You’re supposed to break apart. Queen Marielle said her line.”

Cody doesn’t stop.

“Cody! Jenna!”

That’s enough to yank us out of our blissful fantasy, lurching us into stark reality.

We’re filming. Film-ing.

This is a place of work. A job. A set.

There’s a cast. A crew. A slew of watching people.

We’re characters in a show. Trev. Renna. The Promised Prince.

All that information comes tumbling to the front of my mind in horrifying awareness as my eyes sweep around the room. With each new realization, I slowly unpeel myself from Cody.

Whispers ripple through the room as pairs of eyes gawk at us. Everyone knows that a lot more than acting just happened with that kiss.

My stare stops on Quinton, and my face heats with indescribable embarrassment as I assess his expression. “We’ve been trying to get your attention for a minute now. Queen Marielle even said her line. You two were supposed to break apart.”

“We didn’t…” Cody’s voice is hoarse. He clears his throat as he shakes his head. “I didn’t hear it.”

Quinton’s gaze flips between us like a principal trying to decide who to blame for the food fight in the lunchroom. There’s a subtle nod. Then his eyes swing around the room to the crew. “Let’s take thirty minutes to give our actors a break, and then we’ll reset.”

To give our actors a break?

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