His hands…
Fuck, his hands are skimming my hips.
My heart pounds.
Breathing—what the fuck is breathing?
"Sweetie, you're fucking him. You can't do it from that far away." Danielle taps her camera in that you're irritating me gesture of hers.
"Right." I'm fucking Mal. As the stand-in. The actress. Whatever.
I took several semesters of acting classes at USC.
I know acting.
I move closer.
There's only a foot between us. This is kissing distance. Fucking distance. The closest I've been to any guy who isn't Adam since high school.
My thoughts evaporate as Mal slides his hands around my waist.
He presses his palm into my lower back to pull me closer.
He stares down at me. "You okay?"
So much for my epic composure. But then he doesn't know I'm nervous because he's my celebrity crush. For all he knows, it's normal stage fright.
I force myself to look up at him.
God, he has beautiful eyes.
I force a smile. "I'm used to being behind the camera."
"Took me a while." His palm presses against the bare skin of my lower back. "It's fun once you get used to it."
It's fun, being in front of the camera with Mal.
I nod.
He raises a brow. You sure you're okay?
Again, I nod.
He doesn't waste time. His hand slides up my back, over my tank top, across my exposed skin.
He undoes my ponytail and drags his fingers through my hair.
I press my lips together. I exhale though my nose. I try, hard, to keep from moaning. Or groaning. Or falling back onto the bed and pleading with him t
o literally make my dreams come true.
Danielle's voice barely registers. "Keep going. You two look perfect." She's happy. She's never happy. "Really, Lacey. You should act."
I'm perfect as the girl in Mal's bed.
I…
He digs his hand into my hair. It's rough. It's tender. It's raw power and it's fucking intoxicating.