Hesnorted and kept scrolling through his messages for more scripts to send. “I tried talking to Alex about it, but he’s no help. He just keeps telling me to launch a line of hair care products and be done with it.”
To be honest, for a man whose vanity was much less all-encompassing than he pretended in public, Marcusdidspend a lot of time on his hair. Even on days when he wasn’t doing anything important.
Better to withhold comment.
As her laptop booted up, she hummed happily, eager to get started, and even more eager to spend time together.
This past week, she’d devoted two evenings to writing and revising her one-shot for Aeneas’s Sad Boner Week, another to working on her Lavinia costume, and yet another to sketching possible performance outfits for the Folk Trio Formerly Known As My Chemical Folkmance. Which was now, due to Mel’s successful lobbying efforts, the Indium Girls instead—despite Pablo’s initial protest that two of the three band members were not, in fact, female.
“No worries.” Kei had waved off that concern. “The contradiction will only add to our mystique.”
“It’ll change again next month,” Heidi had whispered near the staff refrigerator later that day. “Whatever you do, Whittier, don’t design the costumes around the band name.”
The nights April told Marcus she wanted to work on her various hobbies, he didn’t quibble. Other than giving her an occasional lingering kiss and offering tentative but useful advice on her fic, he’d mostly left her to her own devices. Instead of pouting, as some of her exes would have done, he’d amused himself listening to audiobooks or simul-bingeing yet more baking shows with Alex via FaceTime.
“Claggy sponge!” Alex kept gleefully shouting, his voice loudand all too clear through the cell phone’s speaker. “Claggy goddamn sponge!”
After the evenings they’d spent apart, she’d rewarded Marcus’s patience at bedtime. He’d seemed more than satisfied with the tradeoff. So satisfied, in fact, that he insisted on returning the favor, and by the timeshewas satisfied, he was hard and hot and ready to climb aboard the Good Ship April for another naked, mutually enjoyable voyage.
Despite all the sex, though, she’d still felt guilty. It was past time they had an evening together, especially doing something that mattered to him.
“Okay,” Marcus said after a few more minutes. “I’ve sent you the three main contenders.”
Yes, he had. There were three new messages in her inbox, complete with attachments. But before she could open them and satisfy her curiosity, she needed to know more.
For the moment, she moved her laptop aside so it didn’t block her view of her boyfriend. “Now thatGods of the Gatesis almost done, what’s your next step? Where do you want your career to go? What sorts of roles are you looking for? And why are these your three main contenders?”
For most of a decade, he’d been fitting movies and television roles in between seasons of filmingGods of the Gates, choosing his projects from the limited selection that both interested him and would work timing-wise. The absolute freedom he now had, to pick whatever role he wanted, no matter when and where filming would occur, was a recent development.
Sometimes she got the sense that all that freedom disoriented him a bit.
“I don’t think so.” He lounged back against the sofa cushions, his smile suddenly sharp-edged with challenge. “You like figuringthings out, so do the work, Whittier. You tellmewhy these are the three roles I’m considering.”
It felt like avoidance to her, as well as a genuine dare, but he knew her all too well. Shelovedshit like this. A mystery. A test of her insight. An invitation to discover stories within stories. Not to mention the carnal promise contained within that lazy, inciting smile.
She raised her brows, meeting his insolence with her own. “If I get it right, what’s my reward, Caster-Hyphen-Rupp?”
At that, the tension broke, and he snickered.
Once he’d recovered himself, though, he looked her dead in the eye. Then he slowly scanned her, all the way from her haphazard ponytail to her curling toes, pausing at a few key spots in between. Her heavy, unbound breasts, nipples pebbling against thin, soft cotton. The lavish swell of her hips and belly. Her dimpled thighs, caressed by the brush of her lounge pants when she shifted under his stare. The juncture of those thighs, where he’d settled and teased and explored so many nights now.
A flush burnishing his cheekbones, he stretched magnificently on the couch.
He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly how he looked. All his training for various roles and all his acting experience had taught him body awareness the likes of which she’d never witnessed before.
As he stretched, his thin tee rode up his flat belly, his biceps straining the sleeves. He arched his spine, his head thrown back in a way she recognized from their more intimate moments.
Not that this moment lacked intimacy.
He relaxed back into the sofa with a satisfied purr. Her labored swallow caught his attention, and that knife-sharp smile returned.
“Your reward?” Now displayed full-length along the couch, hefolded his hands beneath his head and blinked heavy-lidded blue-gray eyes at her. “For each role you analyze correctly, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. And if you get all three right, you can have whatever you want. Anything.”
Twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger, she eyed him consideringly. She knew for a fact he was currently wearing three—and only three—items of clothing. The perfect number for her purposes.
It would take so little effort to get him naked. Even less to ride that handsome face of his once he was hot and needy and stretched out beneath her.
“Game on,” she said.
