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There’s a shell or a rock digging into my back. I wriggle, then gust out a long breath.
“I could just do without the blatant revulsion, that’s all. You’re never like this with the other extras, and you know what? It’s rude.You’rerude.”
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly tight. Because I thought so much better of him—not that he’d throw a party or whatever because he’s doing a scene with me, but that he’d at least treat me the same as everyone else.
Jesse stares down at me, eyes wide with horror.
“Do you have heatstroke?” I snap.
And just like that, he’s back to life. He leans forward, one hand braced against the sand by my cheek, and ducks down to murmur where only I can hear.
Crew members mill all around us, speaking into headsets and swigging from water bottles. A couple even send us curious glances. It probably looks like we’re whispering together about the scene; like we’re in cahoots.
“I’m not repulsed,” Jesse says urgently, his lips close to my ear. “Darla, I swear.”
“Then why—”
“I’m trying to focus, okay?” He straightens back up, wincing. Those muscles, man. So many pretty muscles. “I’m trying not to gettoointo it.”
Oh.
Oh.
…No. No way.
I drag in a shaky breath. “I swear to god, if you’re making fun of me—”
“I’m not.” Jesse raises both palms, and he looks miserable. “Please, Darla. I’m not trying to be a jerk, I swear. I’m just trying to get through these takes without popping wood in front of the cameras.”
I snort, loud and shameless. Is he serious? And Jesse smiles, relieved, but there’s something lurking behind his baby blues. A wariness that I hate to see.
Does he think I’ll use this against him?
“I’m flattered.” I pat his swim short-clad thigh, and bite my lip when the muscle tenses. Do I seriously affect him like this?Me? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like the way I look, but Jesse Hendry is a suntanned Greek god. Forgive a girl for being suspicious. “Though I have to say, this is the worst possible job for a man with a CPR fetish.”
His turn to snort. “It’s not the CPR.” His eyes linger on the spot on my chest where he presses down on me during the scenes. “It’s the extra I’m giving it to.”
Aaah!
My lips are salty when I press them together. “Bad extra. You should get her fired.”
Franklin’s yell for us to get ready makes us both jump. And when Jesse clears his throat, tangling his fingers together again, and leans over me with the heels of his palms grazing my skin, I wink before settling back with my eyes closed.
“Oh, Hanson,” I whisper, only for Jesse’s ears. “Save me you big, strong man.”
The sound of his choked laugh sends sparks zipping through my insides, and oh god, I’m suddenly hot. Molten. Burning up. I squirm against the sand, chewing on my bottom lip.
Does he really mean it? I crack an eyelid, and the sight above me steals my breath.
Because Jesse Hendry stares down at me spread out below him on the sand, and his eyes are stark with hunger. His gaze drags along the dips and swells of my body, clad only in my green swimsuit, and he looks ready to tear it off with his teeth.
Hoo boy. I’m in trouble.
“Action!” Franklin calls.
* * *
“Tell me something.”
