Page 50 of Romance Is Dead

“What if I told you I was thinking about you. . . when I was with her?”

At this point, Teddy was supposed to back Chloe’s character against the wall, using his sex appeal to pry for information. He advanced toward me slowly, his eyes burning into mine, gently guiding me backward until I was pressed against the hard wall. He wasn’t touching me, but his face was mere inches away.

Oh no. My body was humming again, that thing it did whenever Teddy was too close. I swore I could feel his hand hovering somewhere near my hip, and my mind was running wild, imagining him running his fingers along the waistband of my jeans, slipping them down until he reached the top of my underwear, further still until—

“Line?” Teddy whispered.

“Uh.” I glanced down at the script, scanning frantically for my line. “‘I would tell you that you were lying.’”

“I’m not. I was picturing you the entire time I was with her.” His voice fell to a whisper as he leaned closer. “Pretending it was you, wishing it was you.”

“Oh?” I couldn’t take my eyes off his lips, and the word came out as barely a squeak.

“Maybe it can be?” His voice was raspy, his lips so close I could feel his breath on my mouth.

“What are you suggesting?” I was supposed to say it coquettishly but it came out flat—I couldn’t manage anything else. I couldn’t tell if we were acting anymore, and I waited for him to say the next line, praying we could get this scene over with. Next, Teddy’s character was supposed to push Chloe for information. But instead of saying his line, Teddy pressed his hips into mine—gently, just enough that I could feel the jut of his hipbones—and reached up a hand to curve gently around my neck.

“You and me,” he said. “Here. Now.”

The oxygen evaporated from my lungs. That definitely wasn’t in the script, and therefore I had no idea how to respond. Another day, I would have assumed he’d forgotten his lines. But he was right: he was getting better. And something about the way he was looking at me—intensely, burning, intentional—made me think he knew exactly what he was doing. My heart hammered in my chest, so hard he surely could feel it. I waited for a clue, any hint about what he wanted me to do. But he only waited.

“And then what?” I finally whispered.

“And then.” He slipped his hand higher until his fingers wound through the hair at the base of my neck. He tightened his grip at the roots and tugged ever so carefully, enough to apply delicious pressure and tilt my head backward. The movement sent a jolt of electricity straight from my scalp to between my legs. “I make you scream my name.”

For perhaps the first time in my life, I was speechless. If I’d felt desire shooting our scene in the boathouse, I was filled with pure, unbridled lust now. His face was close, so close, and when his eyes dropped to my lips, I wasn’t sure I could hold myself back from kissing him. And there had been a tiny hitch in his voice, a slight pant to his breathing that made me feel like I wasn’t the only one feeling the energy crackling dangerously between us.

And then, Teddy broke out into a grin.

“Not horny, huh?” Teddy smiled as he let go of my hair and backed away, leaving me fighting to slow my heart rate against the wall. “I don’t know, Quinn, you seem a little hard up.”

Any feelings I’d had moments ago fled, replaced like a bucket of cold water by embarrassment and irritation.

“It’s called acting, asshole.” I ran a hand through my hair, shaking it out where he’d messed it up. “I know I’m supposed to be teaching you how, because you’re so hopeless, but I figured you’d at least understand the concept by now.”

“Sure, sure.” Still smiling, he stretched his arms over his head, clearly pleased with himself. “Happens to the best of us, you know.”

“Well, you were right before, it is late. It’s time for you to go.” I shooed him toward the door.

He went willingly, still chuckling as he went. “It’s not something you should be ashamed of.”

“Noted.” I opened the door and motioned toward it. “Although I promise none of my horniness past, present, or future has anything to do with you.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Jigsaw.” He winked, and the cockiness of it made me bristle.

“Out.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.” His voice was singsong, his eyes twinkling.

“Bye.” I shut the door firmly behind him.

Still feeling foolish, I changed into pajamas, removed my makeup, and washed my face, replaying the series of events over and over again. It was ridiculous, thinking he’d been propositioning me for. . . what? Sex right there against the wall?

But climbing into bed, I couldn’t help but imagine what he would have done if I’d taken him up on the offer.

Base camp was eerily quiet the next morning.

At first I assumed everyone was hungover, considering the entire cast and half the crew had been out drinking the night before. But then I noticed the PAs huddled in groups, whispering. The set dresser and wardrobe supervisor stared at me as they walked by, almost colliding with a golf cart as they gawked. Even the AD, usually joined with Natasha at the hip, was tucked behind a trailer having a quiet conversation with one of the camera operators as they kept an eye out for eavesdroppers.

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