AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, shit!”
Natalie’s exclamation interrupted her reverie. “Cut!” the director called out. “What’s wrong?” Gracie looked over in time to see Bobby Tom pull away from his beautiful co-star. “Did I hurt you, Natalie?”
“My milk let down. God, I’m sorry, everybody. I’m leaking. I need a new blouse.”
Bobby Tom leaped to his feet as if he’d just been exposed to a deadly disease.
“Ten minutes, everybody,” the director announced. “Wardrobe, take care of Miss Brooks. And you’d better get a change for Mr. Denton, too.”
Bobby Tom froze.
His head dropped.
An expression of abject horror appeared on his face as he saw two damp circles on the front of his own shirt.
A bubble of laughter slipped through Gracie’s lips. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone unbutton a garment so quickly. He thrust it at the wardrobe assistant and immediately made his way to Gracie’s side.
“Come on.”
Eyes narrowed and jaw set, he pulled her through the trees and around a rocky outcropping, walking so fast she stumbled. He drew her closer, but didn’t slow his pace. Only after they were well out of sight of the others did he stop and lean back against the trunk of a walnut tree.
“This is turning into the most terrible experience of my life. I can’t do it, Gracie. I would rather eat rats than go out there and take that woman’s blouse off. I cannot make love to a nursing mother.”
He looked so miserable that Gracie couldn’t help feeling a certain amount of sympathy for him, even though he’d offended her feminist sensibilities. She tried to use her most reasonable tone of voice, not a simple task when she was standing so close to him. “The primary function of the female breast is to nurture the young, Bobby Tom. It doesn’t speak well of you that you find that offensive.”
“I don’t say I found it offensive. It just makes it impossible for me to forget that I’m kissing somebody else’s wife. Making love to Natalie Brooks gives me the willies. Contrary to what you might have heard, I don’t mess around with married women.”
“No, I don’t imagine you would. In your own peculiar, male-chauvinistic way, you have a lot of honor.”
Some men would have regarded that as a questionable compliment, but Bobby Tom seemed pleased. “Thank you.”
They gazed at each other for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was husky. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to put me back in the mood if I have any chance of doing a decent day’s work out there.”
“Back in the mood?”
He pulled her against his chest and pressed his mouth to hers as if he wanted to devour her. Her response was immediate. Flames raced through her blood, and she met his passion with her own. His mouth was open, his tongue aggressive. She sank her fingers into his thick hair just as he slipped his hand under her skirt. His big hands cupped her bottom and lifted her from the ground. She wrapped her legs around him and felt the harsh abrasion of denim against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He turned her so that her back was pressed against the tree trunk. She felt his arousal, thick and hard, press against her and some wanton part of her wanted to tear open the front of his jeans so there was no longer a barrier between them.
Years of deprivation pushed her to the limits of her control. Famished, she moaned and clasped him tighter between her thighs.
She heard a soft curse. He gentled his grip on her bottom and lowered her until her feet touched the ground. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I keep forgetting how susceptible you are. I shouldn’t have started this.”
She sagged against him. He clasped the back of her head and drew it against his bare chest. He smelled so good, like soap and sunshine. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she had shown more restraint.
“Give me back my underpants, please.”
She was afraid he’d refuse, but apparently he realized he’d teased her long enough. He released her to reach into his pocket. She kept her eyes on his chest as he handed over the scrap of buttercup yellow nylon. When he spoke, all the laughter had faded from his voice and it was steely with determination.
“Tomorrow night nothing’s going to stop the two of us from finishing what we’ve started.”
Before she could reply, he walked away.
She took several minutes to put herself back together and reluctantly returned to the area where they were filming. Natalie had donned a fresh blouse, and Elvis lay cradled in her arms. Bobby Tom, still bare chested, stood between her and the director, who appeared to be giving them some last minute instructions. The director turned away to address a cameraman, and one of the makeup people approached Natalie with a container of hair spray.
Natalie held up her hand. “Just a minute. I don’t want Elvis breathing the fumes. Hold him, will you, Bobby Tom?” Without waiting for his consent, she thrust the chubby baby into his arms and stepped away to have her hair sprayed.
Bobby Tom’s eyebrows rose in alarm. At the same time, his body reacted with the instincts of an All-Pro wide-receiver, and he automatically tucked the baby into his chest.
Elvis gave a happy gurgle. Feeling the familiar brush of skin against his cheek, he instinctively turned his head toward Bobby Tom’s bare, well-shaped pectoral and opened his greedy little mouth.
