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Her hair, out of its braid, was wild and unkempt, hanging in her face. Her dress was gone, leaving her in a white slip smudged with dirt and grime.
Like the night in the cemetery when she told me her story.
This night, she told her story through Ophelia.
My heart raced, my eyes nearly squinting at the talent radiating out of her. The second she was offstage, I raced around behind the set, nearly tripping on a coil rope to get to her, following her white shadow into the women’s dressing room.
My blood was on fire, my hands clenching an unclenching because they were empty of her. I was thirsty and hungry for her. Watching her onstage had ignited an entirely different kind of lust. One that had nothing to do with my need and everything to do with giving her whatever she wanted.
I threw open the door to the dressing room a few seconds after she’d stepped inside. She was alone.
Thank fuck…
Willow whirled around, pressed herself back against the dressing table. Her eyes widened and her lips parted as I shut the door behind me and locked it. We only had one other female cast member—Lorraine—and she was going to be tied up for at least five pages. I had eight or more pages before my cue.
Plenty of time.
“Can I help you?” she asked, pretendin
g calm amusement, though her breathy voice gave her away.
I strode to her, kissed her once. Twice. And then we fell into each other desperately, kissing as if we were each other’s food and water, and the air we needed to breathe.
“We shouldn’t, not here…” she moaned, even as her hands tugged at me as if she couldn’t get me close enough to her body.
“I want you,” I said, backing her against the small dressing table. “God, I want you so fucking bad…”
Desire was in her every touch and kiss, twined with an edge of nervousness. I could feel it in her ragged breath.
“Not that,” I whispered. “I just want you to feel good.” I ran my mouth along her neck, biting the delicate skin there. “I want you to come. Hard…”
Her body loosened like water in my arms.
“Christ, Willow, you were incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I lifted her and set her on the dressing table, stood between her knees to kiss her again, long and deep. My hands plunged in the tangle of her long hair, messy curls spilling over her shoulders and down her back. The eyes staring up at me were wide and dilated.
“What about the show?”
“We have time. I want to kiss you everywhere,” I said against her neck, then raised my head to look at her. “Can I?”
Her lips parted and she sucked in a little breath. Her head bobbed. “Okay,” she said. “I…okay. But hurry.”
My eyes locked on hers, watching for any sign it was too much for her, I slowly slid my hands under her dress, up her thighs that felt like warm silk, and found her underwear.
“Isaac,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss me wetly. “Please…”
Slowly I slid her underwear down and pulled it off of her legs. I kissed her again slowly this time and then down her neck. Her pulse pounded against my lips. Down, over the tops of her breasts that were pushing out of her dress. Slowly working my way down until I knelt between her legs. My hand slid up her thighs again, pushing up her dress.
“You tell me to stop and I stop,” I said. “Okay?”
She nodded.
“Say the word, baby.”
“Yes.” She held my gaze for a moment and the liquid blue of her eyes was full of trust. “Yes, Isaac,” she said.
And again.
