Page 21 of Beach Reads
“Nope.” His teeth tug on my earlobe. “Close, but not quite.”
Ha. Okay, if he insists.
“Jesse,” I sigh as tremors rush through my whole body, shivering out to my fingertips and toes and all the way to the roots of my hair. Heat flares and my pussy clenches; my eyes screw shut and my ears ring.
Jesse leans his whole body weight against me as he wedges himself deep inside. As he floods me with wet warmth. With an unspoken promise.
I’m his.
And he’s mine.
And two minutes later, when he sets me down on wobbly legs, I feel like I could float up to the ceiling. My stomach growls, and Jesse flashes me those dimples, and god, I’m so gooey inside.
“So. Clean up then dinner?” he asks, already leading me toward the bathroom.
The. Perfect. Man.
* * *
Five years later
The set is manic. People in cargo shorts and black t-shirts rush in all directions, barking instructions into headsets. Clipboards areclutched. Golf buggies zoom along pre-marked paths, delivering cast and crew up and down the huge stretch of road. In the distance, a siren wails.
They’ve blocked off the whole avenue. A giant downtown street, emptied of all non-production vehicles and passersby.
The noise is constant.
The sun is hot.
I jiggle our son on my hip, weaving my way through the crowds. This sight would probably be overwhelming to a regular person, but hey, I work on big movie sets like these. I eat, sleep, breathe this chaos. It’s my high.
And though I’ve taken a break lately to spend time with the little one currently drooling on my shoulder, I’ll be back before long. I miss it.
Hey, maybe Franklin will let me come hang out behind the scenes on his new show while I breastfeed. My uncle’s a sucker for playing hide and seek.
“Darla?” A passing runner slows, her high black ponytail swinging side to side. A bright smile spreads over her face. “We haven’t seen you here for a while. Oh my gosh, who’s this little guy?”
I wait, chatting idly as the runner coos over my son. Everyone on set lost their minds over Jesse Hendry’s adorable, chubby-cheeked baby.
“Is he around?” I ask at last, not wanting to linger in the sun. The runner startles, then points to a nearby trailer with a sheepish smile.
“Sorry! Go right ahead. Jesse’s got a break before we need him in makeup again.”
My husband is a busy man these days. Always in demand at work and whenever he sets foot in public. Everybody wants a piece of him.
Too bad. I hush my wriggly baby as I stride toward the trailer. Jesse Hendry’s all mine.
“Tell them I need a few minutes—Darla?” Jesse beams when he realizes it’s me, not a random crew member. He sets the script he was reading down on a table, then hurries to usher me inside.
His trailer is messy. Filled with water bottles and the dried mango he snacks on non-stop, and a stack of spare diapers in the corner.
There’s a framed photo of the two of us on our wedding day, right in the eye line of the doorway where every visitor can see. The sight of it makes my eyes prickle, and I clear my throat.
Pregnancy hormones, man. When exactly do they go away?
“I got bored,” I tell him flatly. Because I love my baby with my whole heart, but it’s still true. “There are only so many puppet shows I can watch in one day.”
My husband turns his dimples on me. “That’s fair. Actually, I got a sitter for us tonight. It was going to be a surprise. You remember Maisie?”
