Page 11 of Beach Reads
“I’m not.” Jesse raises both palms, and he looks miserable. “Please, Darla. I’m not trying to be a jerk, I swear. I’m just trying to get through these takes without popping wood in front of the cameras.”
I snort, loud and shameless. Is he serious? And Jesse smiles, relieved, but there’s something lurking behind his baby blues. A wariness that I hate to see.
Does he think I’ll use this against him?
“I’m flattered.” I pat his swim short-clad thigh, and bite my lip when the muscle tenses. Do I seriously affect him like this?Me? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like the way I look, but Jesse Hendry is a suntanned Greek god. Forgive a girl for being suspicious. “Though I have to say, this is the worst possible job for a man with a CPR fetish.”
His turn to snort. “It’s not the CPR.” His eyes linger on the spot on my chest where he presses down on me during the scenes. “It’s the extra I’m giving it to.”
Aaah!
My lips are salty when I press them together. “Bad extra. You should get her fired.”
Franklin’s yell for us to get ready makes us both jump. And when Jesse clears his throat, tangling his fingers together again, and leans over me with the heels of his palms grazing my skin, I wink before settling back with my eyes closed.
“Oh, Hanson,” I whisper, only for Jesse’s ears. “Save me you big, strong man.”
The sound of his choked laugh sends sparks zipping through my insides, and oh god, I’m suddenly hot. Molten. Burning up. I squirm against the sand, chewing on my bottom lip.
Does he really mean it? I crack an eyelid, and the sight above me steals my breath.
Because Jesse Hendry stares down at me spread out below him on the sand, and his eyes are stark with hunger. His gaze drags along the dips and swells of my body, clad only in my green swimsuit, and he looks ready to tear it off with his teeth.
Hoo boy. I’m in trouble.
“Action!” Franklin calls.
* * *
“Tell me something.”
We’re walking slowly back across the beach to the parking lot trailers, our scene finally wrapped, each gripping our flip flops and water bottles. My towel is slung around my shoulders, just like Jesse’s, because what the hell. Who cares what people think?
And he sure appreciates the view.
“What’s with the thumbs?”
Jesse’s eyes crinkle as he grins. They’re so blue, dappled with vivid green, just like the ocean he dives in every episode. We’re walking slowly, dragging out the seconds before we reach thetrailers. “Are you saying my kiss of life technique isn’t realistic, Darla?”
Ha. “I’m saying the only thing coming back to life is your own knuckles.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Jesse murmurs, and the sidelong glance he sends me makes my insides do the cha-cha.
It’s mid afternoon. It’s been a long day already, and Jesse will get called back for another scene soon. My acting career is over, thank god, so all I need to do is drag my salt-encrusted corpse into Franklin’s trailer and sneak a cool shower.
Then I’m back in the crew. Fading into the background.
“I started doing it in the first season.” Damn, I didn’t really expect an answer, and I almost trip over my own feet staring at Jesse as he talks. He cups my elbow, steering me onto the path that leads off the beach. His palm is warm and dry and so steadying. “I wasn’t a big name back then, but even so, a few extras tried to slip me the tongue during takes.”
Ew.
“That’s really gross.”
“Yeah. I still can’t help the close ups, but I have enough clout now that people don’t try it. So the thumbs are a habit. Personal preference.”
My shoulders have tensed, heat crawling up my neck, and I’m not sure whether it’s anger on Jesse’s behalf, or shame that I had the exact same urge. To kiss him back, and kiss himproperly.To weave my fingers through his damp hair and tug his mouth more firmly against mine. Slide my tongue past those perfect lips.
I didn’t do it, though. I lay on that sand practically vibrating with restraint. That’s got to count for something, right?
