just above his mouth momentarily. Something happened in those fleeting seconds, as our attention focused on one another. Electricity surged through my chest forcing a deeper, darker breath, and his free hand tightened noticeably on my waist.
Too overwhelmed by the power of the sight of him, I clenched my eyes tight and touched my mouth to his. Partially conscious of the rules of a stage kiss, I moved thoughtfully, tasting every inch of his exposed lips, but being careful not to delve inside. Until his hips shifted upward and brushed meaningfully into mine. Hard and unyielding, his arousal was unavoidable, and the surprise of it all elicited a gasp.
Suddenly his tongue touched mine, abandoning the professional boundaries and our characters in the blink of an eye.
Lost in him and the moment, my tongue danced back, twisting and caressing the inside of his mouth with the fervor of someone who feared they’d never get another chance.
His chest and the call of the script beckoned in the back of my mind, but one moment turned into two and before I knew it, we’d both lost all sense of time and spacial reasoning.
We didn’t have all the time in the world to explore, and we sure as hell weren’t alone on an island of lust. People were waiting. People were watching. But neither of us managed to put a stop to it before it landed us in an uncomfortable place.
“Cut!” came Howie’s loud and startling call, breaking us apart quickly and without an ending that did justice to the beginning and middle of our first kiss.
“Well, I know I said to take your time, Easie, but maybe not that much,” he teased, bringing a rare rosy blush to the center of my cheeks.
Glancing to the man between my legs, I found something completely unexpected. Because for as repentant and embarrassed as I looked and felt, Anderson didn’t.
His eyes were hot and completely—intently—focused on me.
Luckily, Howie didn’t push it, nor did he let it linger, announcing, “Let’s go again!” before any of us had a chance to do anything else.
“And action!”
I kept my mouth closed this time, breathing shallowly through my nose as little as possible. He smelled so damn good, but each hit of his scent seemed to significantly affect my decision making skills.
Hell, it was exactly like a drug.
His throat was smooth and long, its thickness thinning a little as he stretched to give me better access. A small nip of his collarbone transitioned into an exploration of his chest, but I didn’t give myself long before zeroing in on the extra nipple.
I told myself that if I focused on the part that wasn’t actually attached to Anderson, I could get back into the right frame of mind. The Miranda frame of mind.
Purposely shutting out Anderson’s motion and response, I treated him like a mannequin, praying for a swift end to the take.
Howie, evidently with a direct line to God, chose that moment to tell us we were done.
“Cut!”
Sitting up quickly, I separated myself, compartmentalizing the lower half of my body into a box labeled “Open This Later.”
“I think we got everything we need for this. You guys go into wardrobe and get ready for the intro.”
Following Howie’s instruction immediately, I swung my leg over Anderson’s body as though dismounting a horse and scurried free until our bodies no longer touched at all.
I could feel his eyes on me, their weight dimpling the skin like a physical touch, but I studiously avoided them.
I may not have a college degree, but I’d just earned an honorary one in avoidance.
Wardrobe was waiting, and as far as I was concerned, it was screaming my name.
Trudging through a cloud of awkward fog that I’d largely created with my impression of Speedy Gonzalez, Anderson and I managed to finish shooting the intro after an agonizing twenty-four takes.
I wasn’t proud of the number, but I was content to live with it. Howie wasn’t mad, and the show got done. In the face of everything that had
Too overwhelmed by the power of the sight of him, I clenched my eyes tight and touched my mouth to his. Partially conscious of the rules of a stage kiss, I moved thoughtfully, tasting every inch of his exposed lips, but being careful not to delve inside. Until his hips shifted upward and brushed meaningfully into mine. Hard and unyielding, his arousal was unavoidable, and the surprise of it all elicited a gasp.
Suddenly his tongue touched mine, abandoning the professional boundaries and our characters in the blink of an eye.
Lost in him and the moment, my tongue danced back, twisting and caressing the inside of his mouth with the fervor of someone who feared they’d never get another chance.
His chest and the call of the script beckoned in the back of my mind, but one moment turned into two and before I knew it, we’d both lost all sense of time and spacial reasoning.
We didn’t have all the time in the world to explore, and we sure as hell weren’t alone on an island of lust. People were waiting. People were watching. But neither of us managed to put a stop to it before it landed us in an uncomfortable place.
“Cut!” came Howie’s loud and startling call, breaking us apart quickly and without an ending that did justice to the beginning and middle of our first kiss.
“Well, I know I said to take your time, Easie, but maybe not that much,” he teased, bringing a rare rosy blush to the center of my cheeks.
Glancing to the man between my legs, I found something completely unexpected. Because for as repentant and embarrassed as I looked and felt, Anderson didn’t.
His eyes were hot and completely—intently—focused on me.
Luckily, Howie didn’t push it, nor did he let it linger, announcing, “Let’s go again!” before any of us had a chance to do anything else.
“And action!”
I kept my mouth closed this time, breathing shallowly through my nose as little as possible. He smelled so damn good, but each hit of his scent seemed to significantly affect my decision making skills.
Hell, it was exactly like a drug.
His throat was smooth and long, its thickness thinning a little as he stretched to give me better access. A small nip of his collarbone transitioned into an exploration of his chest, but I didn’t give myself long before zeroing in on the extra nipple.
I told myself that if I focused on the part that wasn’t actually attached to Anderson, I could get back into the right frame of mind. The Miranda frame of mind.
Purposely shutting out Anderson’s motion and response, I treated him like a mannequin, praying for a swift end to the take.
Howie, evidently with a direct line to God, chose that moment to tell us we were done.
“Cut!”
Sitting up quickly, I separated myself, compartmentalizing the lower half of my body into a box labeled “Open This Later.”
“I think we got everything we need for this. You guys go into wardrobe and get ready for the intro.”
Following Howie’s instruction immediately, I swung my leg over Anderson’s body as though dismounting a horse and scurried free until our bodies no longer touched at all.
I could feel his eyes on me, their weight dimpling the skin like a physical touch, but I studiously avoided them.
I may not have a college degree, but I’d just earned an honorary one in avoidance.
Wardrobe was waiting, and as far as I was concerned, it was screaming my name.
Trudging through a cloud of awkward fog that I’d largely created with my impression of Speedy Gonzalez, Anderson and I managed to finish shooting the intro after an agonizing twenty-four takes.
I wasn’t proud of the number, but I was content to live with it. Howie wasn’t mad, and the show got done. In the face of everything that had
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