I can’t hold back the hint of a groan that escapes me. Grayson pulls his lips from mine, burying his head in the crook of my neck, his mouth getting lost in the waves of my hair.
“Fuck,” he breathes. It’s a hint of a whisper I know only I can hear.
I take his face in my hands. “You okay?” I brush the words faintly across his lips.
He increases the pressure of the kiss in response before muttering, “I’m sorry,” without ever breaking contact.
I have no idea what he’s apologizing for at first. But then his weight shifts and the hard length of him presses against my thigh.
Fuck.
I might be new to actually participating in one of these rather than just writing them, but I do know one thing: dudes usually donotget hard when filming sex scenes. Everything I’ve ever heard on the subject claims there’s no way to get fully aroused when under the pressure of filming with the crew all over the place, and yet here we are.
And Grayson looks mortified.
But if we’re being honest, I’m just as turned on as he is. I’m just able to hide it.
“Okay, cut. Pause here for a minute. You guys can get up if you want to.”
The color drains from Grayson’s face at the thought of having to climb out of this bed right now.
I turn my head away from him, aiming toward Liz. “Actually, can we stay here? I don’t want to have to get my robe on and off again.” It’s a flimsy excuse, but it’s the best I’ve got on the fly.
“Sure,” she responds with a knowing tone.
I grit my teeth because I’m going to pay for that with an interrogation later.
I reach down as best I can, pulling the sheet up so it covers both of us. Grayson shifts his weight off me, his hip resting on the mattress right near mine. It gives us some space down there but leaves our legs tangled and our torsos pressed together.
“Thank you.” The words are a soft rumble, vibrating against my chest.
“You’re welcome.”
The sheet is covering just about everything from the collarbone down and yet I’ve never felt more exposed. My hands rest on my stomach as if to provide some sort of cover. One of Grayson’s hands still cups the nape of my neck. The other is resting on his thigh. But as we lay there in silence, a thin piece of fabric shielding us from the eyes of the crew, his hand travels, lightly tracing up my bare leg to my elbow. It makes its way down my forearm to my hand, and before I know what’s happened, our fingers are laced together.
I tilt my head up. He’s perched over me, his blue eyes locked on mine.
And this feels more intimate than anything else we’ve experienced today.
Liz puts us into our final position—me on top, sitting in Grayson’s lap, his arms wrapped around my bare back and my hands tangled in his hair—and when our lips finally meet again, it feels like breathing. Like oxygen. Like air.
And when she calls cut and we separate and don our robes and don’t say a word to each other as we head back to our rooms like the whole world didn’t just shatter, my heart stops.
Grayson West Doesn’t Kiss and Tell!
by Kaylee Simmons
You know him, you love him, and if you’ve ever encountered any interviews with him, you know there’s one line of questioning Grayson West hates more than any other. So of course we sat down with the star to try to finally uncover the secret love life of Hollywood’s hottest heartthrob!
Kaylee:You are notoriously tight-lipped about your love life, but our readers are dying to know one thing in particular: Are you single?
Grayson:I am single at the moment, yes.
Kaylee:I know that just made a lot of fans very happy! Can you tell us what you look for in a partner?
Grayson:Mostly someone who can make me laugh. Someone I feel comfortable with, the person I want to be around more than any other and come home to at the end of a long day.
Kaylee:I can think of a few volunteers!
