He sucks my lower lip before giving it a gentle bite. “That’s not what you said yesterday.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “You’re lucky you’re good in bed.”
He snaps the release on my bra, palming my breasts in his hands with a wide grin. “Actually, I thinkyou’relucky I’m good in bed.”
I roll my hips, noting he’s already hard beneath me. “Hey, West?”
He grunts.
“How about you stop talking and fuck me?” I pair the words with a smile but freeze when I notice his has dropped.
He stills for just a second before he laughs. “Whatever you say, Harper.” And then he kisses me senseless.
@OKAllison:So are we taking bets on whether or not Grayson West and Emmy Harper are going to find themselves in an enemies-to-lovers situation?
@DeniseWest53:I sure as fuck hope not. I can’t compete with her!
@RomComsWithRachel:Because the only thing keeping you and Grayson West apart is the fact that he’s never met you, right?
@DeniseWest53:Obviously.
@OKAllison:I for one hope they remain costars. She’s too good for him.
@MrsJulieWest27:What the hell are you talking about? No one is too good for Grayson West. He’s too good for her.
@RomComsWithRachel:Please. Emmy is an Oscar-winning writer, and Grayson West is the epitome of a himbo.
@RomComsWithRachel:And don’t get me wrong, I love a himbo, but I don’t see Emmy falling for someone like him.
@DeniseWest53:She should be so lucky.
Chapter Twelve
Waking up the morning after round two, it’s like Groundhog Day. My arm skates over empty, cool sheets. I take a cold shower. Grayson flirts with me in hair and makeup. I pretend not to see him. Amanda and Sam shoot us knowing looks. We turn in another performance that hits the perfect mix of steamy and sweet.
And as soon as we’re dismissed, I bolt from the set, discarding my costume and heading straight up to my room.
Despite my lightning-fast exit, Grayson still manages to beat me. I find him leaning casually in the doorway of his room when I come up the stairs and arrive in our shared hallway. He strides a few steps across the way, meeting me in front of my door.
“We can’t do this again,” I say, even as I move closer into his personal bubble.
He wraps his fingers around my wrist, slowly stroking the thin skin, cluing me in to the fact that wrists are an erogenous zone. “Can’t do what?”
I check up and down the hall to be sure we’re still alone. “We can’t keep sleeping together. It’s too dangerous.”
He brings my wrist up to his mouth, placing a single kiss at my pulse point. “Dangerous how?”
I want to pull away from him, really I do, but then his kiss turns into a suck and I couldn’t move my wrist even if I tried. “Sex once is a fluke. Twice is dumb but still recoverable.”
“And sex three times?” He doesn’t move his mouth from my skin, his beard and his lips equal parts tickling and arousing.
“Sex three times means feelings.” And it’s that thought, finally saying it out loud, that brings me back to myself. Enough at least to take a step away from him, freeing my wrist in the process.
I miss his lips the second they’re gone.
“Do you have feelings for me, Emmy?” He leans one hand against the doorjamb, towering over me. Gone is the usually wicked glint from his lightning-blue eyes. They search mine, as if by locking in they can peer inside my head—and my heart.
“I—uh—um—I... Do you have feelings for me?” Returning the question is easier than answering it for myself. Which is ridiculous because clearly I do not have feelings for Grayson fucking West.
