He begs off the final questions from the rest of the reporters, and we make our way inside the theater.
“Where is that closet you mentioned?” His fingers dig into my waist, his mouth tracing the length of my neck.
I nod my head toward a supply closet tucked away in the corner near the entrance.
But before we can make a break for it, an assistant ushers us to our seats. We’re the last to sit down, and the lights fall a minute later.
“Next time,” he mutters, his hand skirting up the silky material of my dress, landing on my thigh.
I intertwine my fingers with his. “Can’t wait.”
—
The after-party is held at a producer’s house, a big square-and-glass modern monstrosity perched high in the hills. The view from the backyard is stunning, the full lights of Los Angeles laid out before us, but the house itself is a block of cold concrete.
As we step into the front hallway, Grayson leans down to murmur in my ear. “A half hour tops and then we’re out of here and on our way home.”
I check to be sure no one is directly in our sightline before I pull him into a deep kiss. “And what will we do when we get home?”
His hand skirts down the back of my dress. “First this dress comes off.”
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I press my lips to his pulse point. “And then?”
“And then I make you come as many times as you want in our bed. Because it’s ours now, yours and mine.” His mouth captures mine, and he presses against me until my back hits a wall.
I pull myself from him at the contact. “How important is that half hour?”
“Let’s make it fifteen minutes.”
“Done.” I push him away from me before taking his hand and guiding him into the throes of the party.
We’re separated within seconds as the mobs of people surround him, congratulating and ass-kissing and fawning. I find myself a glass of champagne and step outside to enjoy the view, making note of the time and fully planning on holding him to the fifteen-minute rule, although something tells me it’s going to be difficult to rescue him from the crowds in anything less than an hour.
Finding an empty cocktail table, I set down my glass and pull my phone from my clutch. A notification lights up my screen.
Liz:Have you seen this gif? Holy shit, girl, you’re a gif!
I swipe open my messages to find out what the hell she’s talking about. And there we are. Someone captured the moment Grayson leaned down to kiss the crease of my elbow and the salacious look we exchanged after. If I wasn’t already the subject, I’d be working out ways to include the moment in my next screenplay because we look hot—and in love.
Liz:You guys are killing it in the free publicity game!
Me:You’re welcome.
Me:And you owe me a drink.
I tuck my phone back in my purse, noting that more than fifteen minutes have elapsed since I lost Grayson to the fray. Deciding I’ll do a quick sweep of the backyard before I go to find him, I stroll over to the farthest corner, taking in the 180-degree views of the city.
I stop when I hear my name, coming from one of the dark pockets of the yard, one of the few places where there seem to be no guests or servers mingling. Creeping a few steps closer, I find a spot where I can eavesdrop without being seen, which maybe isn’t the nicest thing I’ve ever done, but hey, they’re talking about me so I don’t feel too bad about it.
“This is what we wanted, G. You told me you wanted opportunities to audition for more serious roles, I told you that you needed to work with Harper, and now you’ve got an audition next week for one of the buzziest awards contenders out there.”
“Yeah, I know. And I’m thankful, truly.” The deep rumble of Grayson’s voice is unmistakable.
My brows furrow as I subconsciously move closer to their conversation, something about Grayson’s tone stirring some seriously icky feelings deep in my belly. It’s clear he’s talking with his manager, Kevin, but the words sound all wrong. Grayson hasn’t mentioned any big auditions to me. Why would he keep something that exciting a secret?
“So what’s the big deal? Keep dating Emmy for a few more weeks at least, just until you’ve landed the role, and then you can do whatever you want. Your relationshipwith her has had nothing but a positive impact on your reputation. People are looking at you differently, taking you more seriously.”
“That’s not the problem, Kevin.” Grayson sounds weary and tired, like the conversation is annoying him.
