Page 41 of Unscripted with Mila

“Yours are little stubs. Pretty color, though.”

She wiggled her toes, leaning back on her hands. “I like to paint my toenails often. Today felt like a burnt-orange day.”

I slid my hand over hers that rested between us. “Like the sunset.” It was already getting dark, but I had thought ahead and brought a couple of battery-powered lanterns with us. They added a cozy glow to the air.

“It was spectacular here.”

“I know.”

We strolled along the cliffs but far away from the edge. I wrapped my arm around her waist, tucking her close to my side, and carried a lantern in the other. It was different. I couldn’t recall the last time I wanted to be this close to a woman. Needed to touch her constantly. All during dinner, we had touched. Fed each other bits off our plates. Shared small kisses. Held hands. She touched me often while talking. My arm, shoulder, or the top of my leg. I kissed her knuckles, tucked stray strands of hair behind her ear, stroked her cheek. Pulled her earlobe while teasing her.

“No episodes today?” I asked. “I was watching. Your eyebrow never twitched.”

“No, I was fine. I wasn’t nervous today after you arrived.”

I stopped walking, turning to face her and gazing down. “You were before I got there?”

“I wasn’t sure how to act. After the pool. Last night.”

“How did you expect me to act?”

She shrugged, looking self-conscious. “I don’t have a lot of experience, Nick. It could have been a momentary lapse of judgment. A moment. I wasn’t sure if…” She trailed off.

“If?” I prompted gently.

“If you felt something too, or if it was just me.”

I slid my fingers under her chin, lifting her head. “I felt it too,” I assured her. “I know there is a lot of press out there about me, Mila, but it’s just that. PR. MJ is of the mindset no press is bad press. She encourages the rumors and stories to keep my name in the media. Most of it is just BS. I’m not a playboy.”

I bent and brushed her lips with mine. “I don’t know what is happening right now, and I’m not questioning it. I’m just trying to live in the moment and enjoy it.” I kissed her again. “I don’t do that very often.”

“You don’t?” she whispered, rolling up on her toes and kissing me back.

“No. My life is scripted, Mila. I do what I’m told. Go where I’m told. Play the parts I’m told to play. I lose myself in the characters so I can forget what a miserable life I have outside the set.”

“You hide yourself?”

“I have to.”

She played with the hair at the back of my neck, making me shiver. We both were keeping our voices low, sharing secrets, the rest of the world disappearing for now. Allowing the other person to see our vulnerabilities.

“The only place I feel like Nicholas is with you. And you come totally unscripted.” I smiled, tracing a finger down her cheek. “Unscripted with Mila.”

She returned my smile with one of her own. It was wistful and shy. “Sounds like a book.”

“A best seller if you ask me.”

Our eyes locked, silent words in our gazes. Trust, tentative and warm, flowed between us. Other emotions swam in the depths of her incredible gaze. I wondered if she saw my internal struggle. I had so much to tell her. So many things she needed to know about me. As if she felt the tug-of-war in my head, she cupped my cheek, tracing along my jawline.

“We’ll figure it out,” she whispered. “It’s okay, Nicky baby. It’s okay.”

“What did you call me?” I asked.

“Um, baby?”

“Nicky. You called me Nicky.” No one had called me that since my mother died, unless it was MJ during one of her rants. Then, it was used in a derogatory manner. Nothing like the sweet way it fell from Mila’s lips.

“I won’t if you—”