Our lips part, and this time there’s no heavy breathing, just an absolute stillness as we both come back to ourselves. Grayson stays covering me until someone from wardrobe tosses us both robes. He hands me mine before hopping up and waits until I’ve tied it before he offers me his hand to help me stand.
For a second we just stand there, hand in hand, nothing and everything between us.
Clare clears her throat.
Grayson drops my hand, and we both turn to face her.
“So, slight change. We’re going to go right to under the covers. Liz is happy with what we have so far, so we’ll skip the awkward trying-to-get-out-of-our-pants dance and go right to the main event.” She gestures to the bathroom. “Take a few minutes to get ready if you need it.”
“Go ahead,” I tell him. “I can do what I need to do under my robe.”
He nods tightly and strides across the room to the bathroom.
Sam and Amanda both rush over to me. Brushes and cotton swabs and mascara wands are suddenly flying at my face.
I’m dying to ask them how everything is looking, but I know they haven’t been part of the closed set while we’re actually shooting. I’m also not sure I want to know. I want to get through this next part—the most intimate part—before I can even start to process what has really been happening in this room.
“You look gorgeous,” Sam tells me with one final swipe of powder. “Knock him dead.” He blows me a kiss before he and Amanda exit the room and head out to the camp they’ve set up in the hallway.
When they’re done with me, I remove my jeans, leaving my robe still tied around my waist.
I pace around the room a little while I wait for Grayson. My eyes meet Liz’s for a second. She raises her eyebrows, but I give her a tight smile in response. If something were majorly wrong, she would’ve told me by now, so I’d prefer not to get distracted by any comments just yet.
Grayson emerges from the bathroom a minute later, avoiding the eyes of everyone in the room as he makes his way over to the bed.
Clare stands between us and the four other crew members in the room—a lighting technician, a sound operator, a camerawoman, and Liz. She gives me a warm smile. “When you’re ready, Emmy.”
I don’t hesitate. I’ve been topless for quite some time now, so by this point, it isn’t a huge change. I remove my robe, which leaves me just in the nude pair of panties, and climb into the bed, adjusting my hair on the pillow.
I turn my head to the side so Grayson can disrobe without me looking at him. Because he’s doing a butt shot, all he’ll be wearing is a flesh-colored fabric jockstrap. Ihaven’t ever actually seen one in person, but Liz described it to me, and I know if I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t want my costar staring directly at my junk.
And so even though I really want to see his junk, I keep my gaze respectfully averted until he settles himself on top of me.
This time I do the check-in. “You okay?”
His smile is tight, almost pained, and he won’t meet my eyes. “Yeah.”
I pull away as much as I can considering my head is resting on a pillow right beneath him. “Grayson, if you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to do this.” I shift on the bed so I can gesture for Clare.
But he blocks me, finally bringing his eyes to mine. “I’m okay.” He lowers his forehead until it’s resting on mine. “I want to do this.”
I don’t know if I’m imagining the added layer of meaning in his words.
“And action when you’re ready,” Liz calls.
I waggle my eyebrows at him in the hopes of loosening the tension. “No turning back now.”
He chuckles, although it’s clearly a pity laugh. “You ready?”
I bring up one hand to cup his cheek. “I’m ready. And I trust you.”
“I trust you, too.” He turns his head and kisses my palm. Which is most definitely not part of our original blocking.
And it’s the simple gesture that kicks my heartrate into high gear. I pull his lips down to mine, and we kiss. It’s soft and sweet and as close-mouthed as all of our others. He sinks down to his elbows, and his hips start to move. It’sthe slowest of simulations, one I knew was coming, and yet I was not prepared.
Yes, there are two layers of fabric separating our nether regions, but they don’t do enough. My hands are supposed to clutch Grayson’s back, as if I were pulling him deeper into me, but I have to scratch that in the moment because oh god this does not feel pretend.
Grayson West is on top of me and between my legs and his mouth is on mine, and it’s not enough. The aching urge to feel him inside of me is almost overwhelming.
