Should we?
My head shakes back and forth, vehemently, but then I pause to consider. I feel like I’m the kombucha girl: Is this the best idea I’ve ever had, or am I a total idiot?
A thumping on my door puts a pin in my thoughts.
I open it, worried I’ll find Liz on the other side, althoughshe probably would have just barged in. Instead, it’s the second-worst option.
Grayson fucking West.
He’s still wearing the faded jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt from before, but it’s only now that I notice how both are clinging in all the right places. His hair is tousled, not in the purposeful way, but like he’s been running his hands through it. “Can I come in?”
I push open the door and he brushes by me, leaving me with a whiff of pine and charcoal. Just the faintest touch of his fully clothed skin to mine solidifies my decision.
He stops in the middle of the room. I turn to close the door and walk slowly toward him like he’s an animal that might spook.
“I’ve been thinking about what Liz said.” He scrubs a hand over his beard.
“So have I.”
We both take a deep breath.
“I think I should quit,” he says.
“I think we should have sex,” I say.
Heat rushes to my face. His words came out jumbled, but not so jumbled that I didn’t catch what he said. And judging from his wide eyes and open mouth, he heard exactly what I said, too.
Mortification floods through every single one of my veins. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. And not only that, but he wants the exact opposite of what I just offered—which was, quite literally, myself. Just end me now.
“Shit.” I spin away, not wanting him to see the flush creeping over every inch of my skin.
He takes a few steps closer to me, and I can feel the heat of him at my back. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s—I—I would never want you to do something you don’t want to do. This is silly. You don’t want me, obviously, that’s been pretty clear from the beginning. I didn’t mean—” My words catch as one of his arms snakes around my waist, tugging gently until I spin around to face him.
He doesn’t let me go, his head lowering until our mouths are inches apart. “You think I don’t want you?”
“It was a stupid idea. I just figured maybe it would help with the tension, sincethatscene was the one thing we did well together. But again, it was a colossally dumb idea. Like the dumbest, I should never have suggested—”
My words are cut off by the crush of his mouth on mine.
For a moment I’m too stunned to react, but then I sink into his kiss, looping my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer into his embrace. And there is nothing closed-mouth or PG-13 happening here. Grayson’s one hand tightens on my waist while the other cups my neck, his fingers threading into my hair. It might mimic the position we took on set, but as he pulls me into him, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, this is nothing like what we did on camera. Heat pools in my belly as our lips and tongues collide.
I whimper. I legitimately whimper.
And he growls.
I push him out of my space for a half second, just long enough to tug my sweater over my head. “One time only. No strings. There’s clearly some tension here. Let’s just cut it and save the movie. Yes?”
“One time. No strings. Got it.” His voice is hoarse and raspy, but his eyes stay locked on mine. “Are you sure about this?”
I nod, biting my lip and hoping he doesn’t back out now. Because I’m realizing just how badly I want him, how much I need this. “I’m sure. Are you sure?”
He grunts his assent, his eyes finally drifting down to my chest. He moves in to kiss me again, but I shove him back. Gently.
“Shirt off. Now.”
He grins, and it’s nothing short of salacious. He reaches behind his head, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking it off in that way only guys seem to do.
