creeps who watched me grow up on TV now want a peek at the womanhood blossoming over my chest. I tense my muscles to keep the shakes from showing.
“Lighting check!” Gavin orders from his perch, and Devon rolls on top of me. He’s barely touching me, expertly holding his weight on his knees and elbows so he doesn’t push me down into the pillows and obstruct camera angles.
The gentle brush of his skin is too much, and the awful hot, squirmy shakes that are ravaging my insides bubble out. I squeeze my eyes shut. My head trembles against the pillow, filling my ears with a scratchy rustle.
“Heeeyyyyy.” Devon’s voice is soft as a whisper, all careful like he actually cares. “You’re nervous?”
Way to go , Captain Obvious! His thumb and finger curl around my chin. It doesn’t stop my shaking, but it is soothing. His gaze bores into me, but looking at him makes me lose control. I don’t want to see his sympathy, so I focus on his lips, which are way too kissable for an old man.
Wordlessly, he studies my face, a troubled look stealing his carefree smile. Nodding decisively, Devon rolls off me in one effortless motion, putting himself between me and the crew gathered behind camera. He reaches back and tucks the sheet securely over my nakedness.
“Okay, essential crew only.” His voice is stern and leaves zero room for questions. A disappointed murmur rises collectively from the crowd. Shuffling feet and smacking lips echo around the room. When quiet returns, I peek from behind Devon’s back. Ten people still mill around behind the camera. Devon looks down at me.
“Better?” he asks.
I give the tiniest shake of my head, eyes transfixed on ten scathing faces staring back at me.
“Skeleton crew only,” Devon orders, and everyone, save the director and cameraman, leaves the room. I roll onto the pillow, holding the corner of the sheet up to dab a tear from my eye without smearing any of my whore makeup.
My tears aren’t lost on Devon. He slips back beneath the sheet—warm, glowing muscles and back-to-work-mode face. I flinch when he touches me, going all hot and squirmy on the inside again. I hate being touched like this. It’s only ever bearable when I’m out-of-my-gourd-high. My mind loses focus, and I wish I had something to make the pain go away.
No , Carly! 332. Love yourself enough. I repeat the mantra in my head. It’s all I’ve got to cope with what’s happening to me.
“Hey, Pigtails,” Devon coos. “Don’t be nervous.” He drags his fingers through the curls framing my face and trails them down my cheek. Searing hot all the way to my throat. “This is what we do. We’re actors—it’s just another day at the office.” A smile pulls his lips away from a row of immaculate teeth, as white as the sea of sheets tangled between our bodies. “You’re getting paid big money to make fake love to me. It’s just a job.” He taps his finger against my temple and something about the intensity of his touch makes my eyes find his. A swirl of impossible blues rimmed with navy.
A knot forms in my throat. Trapped by the bank of fluffy pillows, my world is nothing but him—caressing fingers, soft smile and something I haven’t seen in another human’s eyes in...well, ever.
This cannot be good.
“Action!”
Chapter Four
Damn it, where’s my phone? A shrill ringtone blares into the corners of a cramped room in a nameless hotel in the forgotten wasteland of northern nowhere—home sweet home for the foreseeable future. Housekeeping hasn’t seen the place since I arrived. Something I regret as I dive into an unmade bed and rifle through rumpled sheets. Nothing. Every surface is littered with clouded coffee cups, empty cigarette packs, crumpled script pages and dirty clothes.
“Shit!” I knock over a cup of milky, week-old coffee. Of course, it splatters right on the toe of my Converse. Because that’s the kind of life I’m having.
I find the phone in the pocket of my movie set
“Lighting check!” Gavin orders from his perch, and Devon rolls on top of me. He’s barely touching me, expertly holding his weight on his knees and elbows so he doesn’t push me down into the pillows and obstruct camera angles.
The gentle brush of his skin is too much, and the awful hot, squirmy shakes that are ravaging my insides bubble out. I squeeze my eyes shut. My head trembles against the pillow, filling my ears with a scratchy rustle.
“Heeeyyyyy.” Devon’s voice is soft as a whisper, all careful like he actually cares. “You’re nervous?”
Way to go , Captain Obvious! His thumb and finger curl around my chin. It doesn’t stop my shaking, but it is soothing. His gaze bores into me, but looking at him makes me lose control. I don’t want to see his sympathy, so I focus on his lips, which are way too kissable for an old man.
Wordlessly, he studies my face, a troubled look stealing his carefree smile. Nodding decisively, Devon rolls off me in one effortless motion, putting himself between me and the crew gathered behind camera. He reaches back and tucks the sheet securely over my nakedness.
“Okay, essential crew only.” His voice is stern and leaves zero room for questions. A disappointed murmur rises collectively from the crowd. Shuffling feet and smacking lips echo around the room. When quiet returns, I peek from behind Devon’s back. Ten people still mill around behind the camera. Devon looks down at me.
“Better?” he asks.
I give the tiniest shake of my head, eyes transfixed on ten scathing faces staring back at me.
“Skeleton crew only,” Devon orders, and everyone, save the director and cameraman, leaves the room. I roll onto the pillow, holding the corner of the sheet up to dab a tear from my eye without smearing any of my whore makeup.
My tears aren’t lost on Devon. He slips back beneath the sheet—warm, glowing muscles and back-to-work-mode face. I flinch when he touches me, going all hot and squirmy on the inside again. I hate being touched like this. It’s only ever bearable when I’m out-of-my-gourd-high. My mind loses focus, and I wish I had something to make the pain go away.
No , Carly! 332. Love yourself enough. I repeat the mantra in my head. It’s all I’ve got to cope with what’s happening to me.
“Hey, Pigtails,” Devon coos. “Don’t be nervous.” He drags his fingers through the curls framing my face and trails them down my cheek. Searing hot all the way to my throat. “This is what we do. We’re actors—it’s just another day at the office.” A smile pulls his lips away from a row of immaculate teeth, as white as the sea of sheets tangled between our bodies. “You’re getting paid big money to make fake love to me. It’s just a job.” He taps his finger against my temple and something about the intensity of his touch makes my eyes find his. A swirl of impossible blues rimmed with navy.
A knot forms in my throat. Trapped by the bank of fluffy pillows, my world is nothing but him—caressing fingers, soft smile and something I haven’t seen in another human’s eyes in...well, ever.
This cannot be good.
“Action!”
Chapter Four
Damn it, where’s my phone? A shrill ringtone blares into the corners of a cramped room in a nameless hotel in the forgotten wasteland of northern nowhere—home sweet home for the foreseeable future. Housekeeping hasn’t seen the place since I arrived. Something I regret as I dive into an unmade bed and rifle through rumpled sheets. Nothing. Every surface is littered with clouded coffee cups, empty cigarette packs, crumpled script pages and dirty clothes.
“Shit!” I knock over a cup of milky, week-old coffee. Of course, it splatters right on the toe of my Converse. Because that’s the kind of life I’m having.
I find the phone in the pocket of my movie set
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