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“Just the first five.”
“Well, spoiler alert—Oriana knows how to have a good time.” I’m blushing.
“If you’re alluding to the engine-bay scene?—”
“So you do know about it.”
“People—men—don’t seem to be able to talk about the show without mentioning that scene.” In response to my raised eyebrows and deepening blush, he says, “I didn’t watch it.”
“Well. Maybe…don’t.”
He smirks. “We’ll see about that.”
“Just know that if you watch that scene, I’m going to watch your apparently epic spire scene.”
“Is that supposed to be a deterrent?” he teases, voice low and honey edged. “That scene definitely shows me in my best light.”
“Meaning in the dark?” I tease back, and he grins, crinkles forming around his eyes, dimples dropping in to his cheeks.
“Watch away,” he says, waving his hand. “I’ll be curious what you think. But you were saying…?”
“There’s the infamous engine-bay scene, and then there’s this other scene…”
I don’t want to say it.
“‘Fill me up with babies’?” he suggests, the corners of his mouth tilting up.
“Good to know I don’t have any secrets.”
“Engine Girl, neither of us has any secrets.”
I roll my eyes at the nickname. “I loathe that ‘fill me up with babies and take me away from the loneliness at the end of the universe’ monologue. And Anthony, who has no sense of irony, used it in the proposal.”
“Asshole,” he growls, and I have to pretend to myself that I don’t feel that growl in the most sensitive parts of my body. “Do you get this kind of bullshit a lot?”
“I mean, fans can definitely cross the line. Overall I think I’ve been pretty lucky. No restraining orders or anything. Oriana’s got her followers, but we were still a little bit of a cult show. Not mainstream enough to bring out the stalkers in droves.”
He’s shaking his head, but it’s shared aggravation, not shock. I have the feeling that I can’t tell Shane Hott anything he doesn’t already know about the perils of fame. “Some of the fan shenanigans are really bad,” he says.
“You, too?”
“Oh yeah. But I know it’s different for men. I’m glad it hasn’t been in restraining-order territory for you.” He leans back on the couch and stretches out his legs. “So you said you watched Crown of Spires?”
“I only watched the first one.” I bite my lip. “I heard about your famous scene from my sister.”
He scowls. “Just so you know, there is nothing sexy about pretending to be in the throes of passion while suspended against a green screen on wires.”
I laugh. “I can only imagine.”
“And I suspect you think there is nothing sexy about pretending to have sex while cameras circle you and highly paid consultants order you around so no one’s consent rights get violated…”
I blink, surprised. “No.” It’s a strange sensation, to be around someone who gets it. For two people who don’t know each other at all, we already know a lot about each other.
Now, of course, I’m wondering what is sexy to Shane Hott?
And is he wondering what’s sexy to me?
He leans in, his eyes on my mouth, and I strongly suspect he is. Then, like he’s suddenly realized where we are and what we’re supposed to be doing, he sits up straight and says, “So. Proposal. I’m thinking we do it in character.”
