Page 86 of Breaking Free

“Anytime,” he said on the way to the door. “Piper is a sweetheart.”

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs in the shower. I’m grabbing one when I get home, too. The studio was like a sauna.” He gave him a casual hand flip, called, “Catch you later,” and was outta there.

After locking up and making sure the alarm was set, Tristan wandered through the living room in search of a distraction from thoughts of Piper naked, wet, and soapy. She had severalbooks on her living room shelves, but mysteries and romance weren’t his preferred genres.

Since the door was open, he looked in the room off the hall. The space had a distinctly feminine vibe, painted in a soothing celery green. In the corner was a cozy reading nook with an oversized off-white armchair and a swing-arm floor lamp. She had a bunch of patterned pillows—what woman didn’t?—and a bright-yellow throw tossed casually across the matching ottoman upon which Jaxx had curled up and was fast asleep.

He spotted Piper’s script forIt Happened One Summerpeeking out from under the throw. Carefully, without Jaxx ever budging, he pulled out the bound copy and settled into the chair to read.

It was definitely adults only, with violence and language jumping off the first few pages. He flipped through, skimming the dialogue, stopping midway on a sex scene. The stage directions in particular about Marlana, the female main character played by Piper, slipping into bed naked with the lead detective made his jaw clench.

Piper had mentioned partial nudity. He’d been around people in the industry enough to know some tricks of the trade. They often wore body stockings during steamy scenes to preserve the actor’s modesty, but not always. Tristan flipped back to the front, looking for a rating of some kind. There wasn’t one.

He went back to the scene and became so engrossed—and ready to find Anthony, played by the asshole Dirk, and rip his head off—he didn’t notice Piper had walked by until she called, “Christian?”

As he abruptly rose from the chair, Jaxx let out an indignant protest, halfway between a meow and a yowl. Moving to the door, Tristan’s eyes were drawn to her long, tanned legs in another pair of short shorts. Up top she wore a tank, thekind that converged in a wide strap at the center of her back, revealing the delicate, pale-pink straps of her bra.

Looking at her made him hard, but her perfume, a soft citrus scent and something else he couldn’t name, made him ache to bury his face in her neck and breathe it in, while driving into her.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and tight, before telling her, “Christian left a few minutes ago.”

She whirled, her ponytail wrapping around her neck. “Land sakes, Tristan!” she gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “You scared the life out of me.”

“Sorry.” He raised the hand holding the script. “I was doing some interesting reading.”

Tilting her head to read the cover, she moved toward him. “We signed a confidentiality agreement. They want this kept under wraps on the threat of death and dismemberment. Can I trust you? Or will I have to draw and quarter you for reading it?”

She was teasing, but he wasn’t in the mood.

“The love scene I came across is awfully steamy. How are you going to strip down on screen for potentially millions when you’re shy about nudity?”

She fidgeted restlessly as her gaze drifted down the dimly lit hall behind him. Clearly, she’d wondered the same thing.

“The set will be closed, and we have an intimacy coordinator whose role is not only to choreograph the sex scenes but to ensure a safe and respectful environment on set for the actors.”

“That sounds scripted, more so than what you believe.”

She shrugged but admitted, “That’s because it’s word for word what it says in my contract.”

He further expressed his skepticism by drawling, “I’m going to assume the coordinator works for the studio. Won’t their primary concern be satisfying the suits rather than keeping the actors happy?”

“I suppose that’s a cynical way of looking at it. But it’s only partial nudity. That’s in my contract, too.”

“Define partial.”

“More than I reveal in a bikini, but all the important parts stay covered.”

“Sometimes clothed is more explicit than not. If it’s the yellow bikini you wore to the pool party, you might as well be naked.”

Frowning, she took the script from him and glanced at the section he’d been reading. Then she flipped it shut. “We’re scheduled to tape this next week. They don’t always shoot in sequence, and for some reason, scheduled all the love scenes first.”

“Which brings me back to my original question. Are you ready for it?”

Her calm facade evaporated before his eyes. She raised her hands and ran her fingers through her hair. They returned to cover her mouth, visibly trembling, and she took a shuddering breath. “I’m supposed to crawl into bed and act out a steamy scene with a man I barely know, and, to tell the truth, can’t stand.”

“Is this Dirk, by any chance?” He said her costar’s name with an unmistakable sneer, and his contempt couldn’t be more transparent.Get a grip, Rogers.

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