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I leave the ladies’ room and walk down the hallway. I use the restrooms that are in a separate building, behind the set, because it’s closer to the costume rooms.
It’s quiet in here, the walls thick, the sounds of the set seeming far away as I walk down the empty corridor.
Then Braden steps out.
I gasp and almost leap back when he blocks the corridor, his wide shoulders filling it. He’s wearing his Victorian jacket, the buttons loose around the neck, as though he burst out of it. His hair is messy and wild.
“Bria,” he snarls.
“Bra… Mr. Braxten.”
He smirks and steps forward, closer and closer until he’s standing over me, close enough to touch.
It takes everything I have not to reach up and claw onto his muscular chest, to squeeze until I feel my fingernails bending against his firmness.
“Please, call me Braden.”
“Okay.”
I let my gaze drop, shyness swarming through me, telling me to get out of here as quickly as I can.
What the heck is he doing here? Did he follow me or is that just my crazy imagination putting silly thoughts into my head?
“I’m sorry. I’m in your way.”
I step aside, thinking maybe he wants to get to the bathroom behind me. Of course, that’s it.
Him, follow me?
Jeez, I really need to get some freaking perspective.
“No, no you’re not,” he snaps, moving so close to me we’re almost touching.
His scent swirls all around me, musky and manly. I breathe it in, and suddenly it’s like lava is coursing through my veins. His heat pressing against me, wrapping me up warmly as though in a blanket.
“What are you doing?” I whimper, staring up at him.
He leans down with this crazed look in his eyes, unhinged like he’s on something. But I know Braden would never do drugs, would definitely never come to work under the influence or anything.
No, the crazed look is ignited by something else, or by someone else.
“I’m trying my best to be a gentleman, Bria, that’s what I’m doing. But you’re making it damn difficult.”
“What do you mean?”
He chuckles grimly. “Do you really have no idea what you’re doing to me? When you strut across set with those tight fucking pants on, hugging that round full sexy ass. Do you really not know how hard it makes me?”
I try to speak, but no words will come out as I stare up at him. I keep expecting him to disappear in a cloud of smoke, drifting away into a dream.
My heart pounds but my instincts rally.
This is it. This is his revenge.
Tyler must be waiting around the corner, both of them ready to laugh at me.
“Full and round,” I whisper. “Okay, I get it. Can I go now?”
He leans back, tilting his head at me. “Why have you gone all pouty? What’s wrong?”
“No, it’s fine.” I force back the sob that tries to climb up my throat when I think about this trick. “I know it’s probably not what you wanted to wear. I know you’re all probably really angry at Maximillia, at me. Okay? I get that. And you want payback. Fine, fine. But round and full? Just come out and say fat.”
I move to walk around him, be he slides over and blocks me, his fists clenched at his sides and his jaw pulsing. Rage is written across his expression because of course, he hates that I saw through his mean trick.
“Please move,” I say, struggling to stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks.
My childhood crush has become the same as all my high school bullies.
Kill me now.
“Don’t you ever call yourself that again,” he snarls.
“Please—”
“Don’t you ever fucking do it.”
He reaches forward and grabs onto my shoulders, squeezing so hard I have no choice but to feel all the power in his words. His palm burns through the thin fabric of my shirt, boiling against my skin.
“Do you understand? I never want to hear you describe yourself like that again. Say it. Tell me you’ll never do it.”
“I won’t do it again.” I moan, unable to stop the sound, as I force the words out of me. “What the heck are you doing?”
“Your body is full and voluptuous and made for indulging in. It’s made to suck and massage and spank and fuck. Hard, possessively, fuck until everything trembles and it drives me wild.”
His words wash over me, but there’s still this little voice that tells me it’s a trick. He’s the best actor in the world.
If anybody could convince me I’m beautiful, it’s him.
“You don’t believe me.” His voice is blunt, his eyes sharp and alive. “Do you?”
I shake my head. “How can I?”
“But your body believes me, doesn’t it?”
His hand slides down from my shoulders, smoothing across my breasts. He rubs one hand over the top of my shirt and then drags it across to the other, squeezing down so my nipples tingle, rubbing raw against my bra.
