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The audience roared.
Dawson took his seat and winked at me as my face ignited.
I was going to get fired. I wasn’t sure yet whether it would be the stage erection or the unplanned extra kiss that would be the cause of it, but it didn’t really matter. The end result was the same.
Sure enough, as soon as the curtain closed, the stage manager informed the two of us to report to the office ASAP. It was late, which meant the only possible scenario was immediate firing. I only hoped I could convince them to leave Dawson out of it since it was clearly my fault. He’d just been trying to help.
“Come on in, guys.” The person who greeted us in the office wasn’t the director at all but the woman in charge of publicity. “I know it’s late, and you’re probably ready to get home, but with all of the recent buzz about you two, we’ve decided to take advantage of it and book you in for some interviews. The first one is early tomorrow morning with a radio show, and then you’ll head over to one of the morning shows. There will be a little break, enough time for coffee and a muffin maybe, and you’ll meet a theater reporter here in the office before getting into costume for tomorrow’s matinee. Friday morning, I’ve booked you in for a magazine photo shoot.”
I stared at her. None of this made any sense.
“Sounds good,” Dawson said, maintaining his usual professionalism.
“Uh, what?” I added. “What buzz?”
She laughed as if I was making a joke. Instead of clarifying, she handed each of us a printout with the schedule and details we needed for the interviews and wished us well before walking us out of the office. When Dawson reached for it, I noticed the same large, veined hand that had been on my throat earlier. The memory of his touch shouldn’t have affected me so strongly, but it did. After all this time of feeling his hands on me, I was still as sensitive as ever to it.
I followed Dawson back to the dressing rooms backstage with my mind reeling. We were no strangers to media events and interviews, but I’d never been asked to do any on my own. Sending just the two of us didn’t make sense to me.
“Why the two of us?” I asked Dawson’s back. The cut of his suit vest showed off his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and delectable ass. Rolled-up shirtsleeves revealed his muscular forearms as he slid his hands into his pockets.
“The kiss,” he said gruffly. “Media’s going nuts over it.”
I almost stumbled over my toes. “Our kiss?” I asked breathlessly. “The stage kiss, I mean?”
Of course the stage kiss. What other kiss was there?
“Mm.”
Dawson Priest was a man of few words, something that annoyed the hell out of me. Worse, he was only that way around me. Around everyone else, he seemed like a damned chatterbox.
“Could you expand on that ‘mm,’ please?” I snapped.
He glanced at me over his shoulder. Even his profile was sexy as hell. The fucker.
“The crowd is going nuts over the fact our kiss is different every night. Apparently that makes for return visits by the same audience members. It’s been written up in some articles.”
“You’re kidding. How did you know?”
He crossed the threshold into the dressing room he always used. I’d always made a point to use a different one. Seeing him half-dressed before going onstage in front of several hundred people would have not been a good plan for my dick.
“I pay attention,” he murmured.
I stared after him. The words “Me too” balanced on the tip of my tongue before I realized I hadn’t been paying much attention to anything for the past several days. Instead of saying anything, I exhaled and walked on by.
But not before accidentally glimpsing him rucking up his shirt and revealing the lean, corded lines of his back. The image branded itself on the back of my eyeballs. I raced through my own undressing before hauling ass out into the frigid night air.
The cold temperature didn’t do anything to douse the heat in my groin from imagining the rest of Dawson’s disrobing. By the time I got to the privacy of my tiny bedroom, I was on fire from thoughts of a naked Dawson.
I forced myself not to jack off to thoughts of him in the shower. Then I forced myself not to jack off to thoughts of him when I slid between the cool sheets of my bed.
But an hour later, when I still couldn’t sleep because of an unrelenting throb in my dick, I finally succumbed.
I grabbed frantically for the lube on my bedside table and pumped it into my hand. Sweet, blessed Jesus, that felt good.
I groaned and squeezed my eyes closed. Images of Dawson’s hot ass, his thick thighs, and his washboard abs filled my vision. He was the sexiest man I’d ever known, and when my brain helpfully reminded me of all the times I’d had his mouth on mine, I sucked in a breath.
