Chapter 20

Hayden

Bending my head,I capture Victoria's lips in a slow kiss. Chaste and sweet, and that seems to be what we both need right now. She returns my kisses, her hands still rubbing up and down my back, and I never want her to stop. I'm tired in so many ways—physically and mentally from a grueling day of shooting—but this is all I want right now.

The only thing that'd be better is getting naked and horizontal.

"How soon do you have to leave?" I whisper against her lips, making a small sound of protest in my throat when she pulls away.

She tosses me a cheeky grin, stepping back and pulling out her phone. Pursing her lips, she tilts her head from side to side, considering. "I should probably leave in about an hour to pick up Erin from my parents'."

I swallow another sound of protest. I want more than a stolen hour with this woman. But if that's all she can offer, that's what I'll take.

"Perfect," I murmur, stepping close and kissing her again.

But once again she steps back from my kisses, though this time it's to tangle her fingers with mine and lead me to the bed at the back of the trailer. The sound I make this time is one of appreciation and approval.

When we get to the bed, she faces me again, running her hands over my arms. "So where's the costume that's famously causing so much trouble?"

Grinning, I shake my head. "You know that was just an excuse, right?"

She laughs and nods. "Of course. But I should still take it home with me, just to lend credence to the excuse. We'll have to figure out something for me to fix, or at least pretend to fix, so I have a good story for Mia."

It flashes through my brain that maybe we should just tell Mia our secret and quit lying, but I know Victoria won't like that solution. While I don't necessarily want to parade our relationship all over—it would surely end up in the tabloids, then she'd get harassed by the media, and I don't want that for her—she's the one who insists on no one finding out. That's one of the stipulations of this relationship, such as it is.

And since we both know this can't possibly last, what's the point in telling people?

Well, if we tell Mia, it'll make our lives easier. And I trust Mia not to tell anyone else if she knows it's supposed to be a secret, but I feel like less than a week in isn't the time to broach that subject. There'll be time for that later, I'm sure.

Instead of saying any of that, I kiss her, lifting the hem of her top as I do so. She takes over, stepping back from the kiss and pulling her top over her head. When she reaches for the hem of my T-shirt, I do the same thing, reaching behind my head and pulling the shirt off one-handed.

She makes a low noise of appreciation, her hands skating down my abs to the waistband of my joggers, then back up over my chest to my shoulders, stepping in close and rising on her tiptoes to kiss me.

"I could kiss you all night," I murmur against her lips. Reaching behind her, I unhook her bra, grateful she doesn't break the kiss to take that off, just leans her body away from mine and removes her bra before stepping back in and pressing her tits against my chest.

I sigh at the feel of her against me, all sweet curves and smooth skin. Perfection.

We stand, caressing each other and kissing for a short eternity. And I don't know if she's impatient just because she wants me that much or if it's because she's more aware of the passing time than I am—or maybe a combination of the two—but she's the one who starts shoving my pants down before I even have a hand inside of hers.

I help get my pants to my ankles and kick them off as I start to work on hers. This time she does step away from the kiss to shuck hers off her body, then she climbs onto the bed, and if that's what she's going to do, I have no complaints about a kiss being cut short. Not when I get all her skin to touch and kiss and bite and lick.

I follow her onto the bed, unable to stop myself from reaching down and stroking my hard cock, the action both relief and tease because while it feels good, it's nowhere near what I need. She reaches for me, and I settle over her, kissing her mouth but quickly moving down. One of these days, I'm going to have more time. More time to spend kissing her how I want and for as long as I want, but tonight is not that night.

She hums when I begin working my way down her body and purrs with pleasure when I set to work on her nipples. I slide to one side of her body, her nipple still in my mouth, and caress down her belly and up her thighs over and over, avoiding her center for a few strokes, then casually sliding over it. I keep that up until she's pressing herself into my hand, clearly ready for more. It doesn't take long.

Grinning, I release her nipple and settle between her thighs, licking her with the flat of my tongue a few times before focusing on her clit. It takes a second to find the right spot, but when I do, it's like she's jolted with electricity. She gasps, her hips rising, and I clamp an arm around her and focus on that place while sliding a finger inside her. After I add a second finger, it doesn't take long before she's gasping and moaning, and I know she's close. I double down on my efforts, and then her whole body goes rigid for a second before she spasms around my fingers. I stay with her, keeping her orgasm going, grinding my hips into the bed because I'm so turned on. I need something—anything—to provide relief, even if it's just the blanket on the bed.

"Please, please," she protests, pulling away, and I release her. Her muscles go lax, and she's flopped on my bed like a rag doll, and I can't think of anything that's a bigger turn-on than knowing I'm responsible for her being in that state. I love it. I can't get enough of it.

Pushing up to my knees, I reach into one of the compartments, pull out a condom, and roll it on. While stroking myself with one hand, I rub my other hand up and down her thigh, waiting until she lolls her head in my direction and opens her eyes. "Ready?"

Biting her lower lip, she nods once. Slowly, I rub the head of my cock over her sensitive clit, then down to her opening where I press inside. She brings her knees up, hugging my hips with them, and we both let out a groan as I fully slide into her wet heat.

Once my hips meet hers, I drop to my elbows over her, kissing her gently. "God, you feel so good."

Her hands skate up my back, her fingers pressing into my shoulders, and she writhes beneath me. "You do too," she breathes.

I start slow and easy, knowing she's likely still sensitive, not wanting to overload her too much, and also wanting to last as long as possible. This … this is heaven.

But I can't keep it so slow for long. Not when she's meeting each thrust, her legs clamped around me, her mouth fused to mine, and her hands digging into my back and ass.

She wants me with a ferocity that matches mine, and I can't hold back for much longer. Soon I'm pushing myself up to hitch one of her legs higher, opening her so I can get deep, and she groans at the sensation, her pussy clamping on me, which sets off a matching groan rumbling from my chest. Filthy words spill from my mouth, and I'm not even sure what I'm saying as I chase my release.

My pace increases, and she's reaching between us, her fingers moving in wild circles over her clit, and I can't look away. So hot. So gorgeous. So perfect.

When she starts with those soft cries that I know mean she's getting close, I grit my teeth, forcing myself to keep up the pace but trying to hold back the lightning zipping down my spine, gathering in my balls, making me ready to explode.

After what feels like an eternity, she cries out, her pussy clamping on my dick, and I let myself go, grinding into her as I empty myself, then collapsing over her with the relief and bonelessness that comes after an amazing orgasm.

Sucking in a few deep breaths, I force myself to grab the base of the condom and pull out before things start leaking back down—no one wants a condom malfunction, after all. But I can't get any farther than flopping over onto the bed next to her.

She has one hand thrown over her head, and she drops her head to the side to look at me, letting out a quiet chuckle and reaching for my arm. "You alright?"

I laugh along with her, patting her hand. "Better than alright. You?"

"Oh, yeah. Much, much better."

My grin is irrepressible. "Good."

After I deal with the condom, I settle back on the bed, pulling her against me. She snuggles into my chest, drawing lines with her fingers over my abdomen, and lets out a contented sigh. I rumble my agreement, enjoying the blissed out afterglow, and the fact that she's not rushing off like I'd expected.

"Tell me about your day," she says after a moment, her voice a soft request.

My eyebrows jump, and I look down at the top of her head. "What do you want to know?"

The shoulder under my hand shifts in a shrug. "Anything. Everything. I've seen some of what goes on during filming, but you said you had a long, exhausting day. What happened? Why was today so difficult?"

I suck in a breath and hold it, sorting through my thoughts—which are mostly blank after that orgasm—thinking through the day.

"You don't have to tell me," she says when I don't respond right away. "But I'd like to hear about it. If you want to share."

"No, I want to," I say. "I'm just trying to figure out where to start."

Looking up at me, she offers me a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "How about at the beginning? Was the day awful from the start? Or did it go off the rails somewhere in the middle?"

With a smile, I give her a squeeze, enjoying the easy intimacy and the fact she wants to hear about my day—about me. "It started off good, actually. I mean, it was always going to be a long day. We had a lot on the schedule. We got a little behind last week, and Brady's trying to get us caught up so we can make the most of our time before we bring in the rest of the cast and the extras for the big scenes. And he's the worst kind of perfectionist right now. Which I get, since it's his first time in the director's seat, and we all want this film to succeed."

"Of course," she murmurs. "I imagine you always want that, though, right?"

I nod. "True. Yes. Doing well at the box office and during awards season is what dreams are made of. But this feels like there's more on the line. It's an ambitious directorial debut, especially for someone like Brady."

She nods against my chest. "I can see that. He's not known for his serious work."

"Exactly. Which is part of the reason he had trouble getting enough funding. But he believes in this project so much that he wouldn't let anyone stand in his way. And I know his perfectionism'll likely make the film even better in the end, but …" I let out a groan. "It makes the day to day work last hours longer than scheduled. And it's exhausting."

I tilt her chin up with a finger and kiss her. "Knowing I'd get to see you at the end of it kept me going, though."

Her cheeks pink, and I can't help smiling at her blush. "Seeing you after working two jobs makes me feel better too."

I kiss her again at that admission, and something feels like it clicks into place in my chest as I caress her skin. This is what a relationship is supposed to be like—sharing, relaxing, just enjoying each other. Not wondering when they'll ask you for something or waiting until it's your turn to ask them. No tallying up who's done what for who last, or who's done more for the other so you don't get taken advantage of.

I'm not sure I've ever had anything quite like this before. And I don't know if I'll want to let it go when it's time for me to leave.

Despite my determination to get more time with Victoria, I seem to get even less over the next few days. The shooting schedule is grueling, keeping me going all day and making me unavailable to meet her for lunch. Her daughter has things after school that keep her from coming to the set, and I'm not the only one annoyed by that.

"You have to stop complaining about your costumes," Mia says to me three days after the last time I saw Victoria. "My assistant's availability is more sporadic than I'd like, and I can't keep driving into Podunk-ville to pick them up from her when you insist on her fixing basically nothing. I don't know what your deal is this time. You're not usually this much of a diva about your costumes. Is it the fact it's Shakespeare? You're even more anal about The Bard than about other things? Even if it's not 1600s? Or is it the producer credit?"

I shake my head, trying not to laugh. "I'm not a diva," I protest, knowing full well that I've been an unbearable diva this time around. But I can't admit that.

She rolls her eyes at me. "Uh-huh. Suuure. Can you tone it down, even so?"

"I'll do my best," I assure her, though I have no intention of changing anything about my behavior. If I have to take the blame as a diva to get time with Victoria, I have no problem with that.

Mia huffs, obviously sensing that my promise is as empty as it sounds.

With the scheduling hangups, it'll be three more days until I can see Victoria again, and I'm growing more irritable with each passing day. I keep it to myself, though, because I know she's doing her best to juggle all her responsibilities. My options are this or nothing. And nothing isn't an option I'm willing to entertain.