Page 87 of Every Now and Then
“Throw your head back and shake your hair.”
“Hayes, move in for a kiss. Make it sloppy. Hard and forceful, like we talked about.”
It isn’t just that I’m touching another woman. That’s not what upsets me the most. It’s that this experience, shooting this music video, will forever taint Annabelle’s memories of the night we met.
I can’t let that happen. Those memories are sacred.
“Cut!” I yell. Gently, I push Sloane off my lap. “I’m sorry, Sloane, but I can’t do this. Not with you,” I grunt, standing from the bed.
Hands on her hips, Charlotte approaches me warily. “Hayes, you’ve got to get it together,” she chides. “We only have Tank’s booked for one night.Tonight.We don’t have time to find another actress to play your love interest.”
“I’ll do it.”
Annabelle’s voice rings out, clear as day, across the crowded room.
30
Annabelle
Now
Iam so out of my element; I think to myself, as two makeup artists hurry to apply makeup to my face and body.
But when Hayes yelled, “Cut!” and the director stormed off, pissed, Hayes looked at me beseechingly, and I just caved. When his apologetic steel-blue eyes found mine, my mouth formed the words “I’ll do it” before my brain could even compute what I was volunteering for. Despite my moment of insanity, I don’t regret it. Not when I saw the sudden swath of relief cross Hayes’ features.
Or when I remembered the sharp sting of jealousy I felt watching Hayes put his hands on a woman wearing nothing butskimpy lingerie, looking like she’d just stepped off the runway of a Victoria’s Secret fashion show.
As happy as he was when I volunteered, Hayes had some reservations about people seeing what was his. His words, not mine. I told him that his inner caveman was showing, but I liked it. I like that he’s protective of me.
After conferring with Charlotte and the director, they made a few changes. Hayes requested a closed set to help me feel as comfortable as possible. But let's be honest, that request was as much for him as it was for me. They also decided to focus the shots on Hayes’s face, keeping mine out of frame—only showing me from behind or in profile to obscure my features. Since there’s no time to re-shoot the scenes at Tank’s Tavern, the bedroom shots will need to center on my body, not my face, to keep the illusion that it’s the same woman throughout the video.
Which works just fine for me. I prefer my anonymity.
The thought of what I’m about to do is dizzying. Terrifying, almost. But I can’t deny the thread of exhilaration that runs through my body, too. Of course, that might be jitters from the two espresso martinis I consumed while getting ready.
I stand on a dais clad in only panties, a bra, and pasties. The stylists brought the same lingerie Sloane wore in multiple sizes and found a set that fit me perfectly. Pale pink silk and lace, sheer enough to look nearly nude, but strategically designed to cover all the important bits.
As I study myself in the full-length mirror, I have to admit that I look pretty good.
When I walk onto the closed set a few minutes later and drop my robe, the hungry expression on Hayes’ face confirms my earlier judgment. Because Hayes doesn’t just look at me, he looks like he wants to devour me.
Colt approaches and tells me what to do, like he did with Sloane, but I stop him. “I think I’ve got it. I was paying attention when you were coaching Sloane.”
Not to mention, I lived this night firsthand. I don’t need to be told what to do.
Then the music starts, the cameras pan the room, moving around us.
I creep across the bed toward Hayes as he grabs my hand, pulling me to him. We stare into each other’s eyes as his hands roam freely over my body, caressing and squeezing me. We come close to kissing and moving against one another, but we don’t. Not yet anyway. That comes next.
“Good, good. Let the moment grow. Make us feel your need for one another,” Colt tells us. “Make your lust palpable to the viewer.”
I almost laugh when Colt says that, but then Hayes nuzzles my neck, his rough scruff deliciously scratchy against my skin, distracting me. I forget everything except how fantastic Hayes feels.
Then we do the whole thing over again, except this time Hayes sings the lyrics to the second and third verses of the song as we cavort around on the bed like a pair of horny teenagers.
A few minutes later, Colt yells, “Cut!” Glancing at us, he says, “Unless you need a break, stay here since we’re making up for lost time. We just need to adjust the lighting, and we’ll get right back to it.”
I nod, rolling off Hayes. I take up a position seated next to him on the bed, pulling the rumpled sheets over me. Hayes slings an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close.
