Page 2 of Eat Slay Love

Essentially, it was a sock—yes, an actual sock—for that part, complete with a drawstring, like a tiny, fabric sleeping bag cinched around the crown jewels. Because apparently, the modesty gods decided that men needed a touch of whimsy with their dignity.

A literal drawstring.

I always imagined some pervy inventor came up with the idea as he laughed in his lab.

Of course Liam can’t get all that cock in there. Had me up all night searching for the biggest one.

Sighing, I handed my coffee to my assistant, Gissele. “I’ll be right back.”

“Uh. . .” She blinked a few times. “I could do it for you, Rae.”

I knew how big of a Liam fan Gissele was. If she had to adjust his modesty patch, there might be a serious lawsuit triggered with her as the clear aggressor.

“I’ve got it, Gissele.” I smirked. “Just keep my coffee warm and my notes ready.”

Being an intimacy coordinator was equal parts choreography, therapist, and mediator—though nobody ever warned me about the weird in-between moments.

One minute, I’d be explaining the exact angle a kiss should land to look good on camera, and the next, I’d be crouched under a satin sheet, making sure a strategically placed modesty patch didn’t peel off mid-take.

Let’s see what’s up with Mr. Sexy.

Just as I started walking, he got in my way and towered over me. "Morning, sunshine."

“Morning to you, Liam.” I chuckled. “You stay giving me trouble.”

“I swear I’m not trying to, Rae.”

Liam greeted me with his signature devilish grin, the kind that had half of Hollywood's population (and all of its gossip blogs) under his spell.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Alright. Let’s see what you did.”

It wasn’t every day I had to secure a modesty patch on the man People magazine had twice named the Sexiest Man Alive .

Ava sashayed over and pulled her phone out. “Let’s get this scene going, Liam. I have an interview during lunch and it’s going to take forever to get all this blood off me. Plus, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Never rush greatness,” Liam replied.

Ava walked off.

Liam undid his robe, letting it slip off his shoulders like he was starring in an Old Spice commercial.

Oh. . .that’s what God gave you?

The rumors were true. His fans would absolutely not be disappointed. In fact, they’d probably cry tears of joy.

Warmth hit me, but I shoved that away.

I was not here to ogle his cock. My job was to keep Liam’s very large assets hidden from the world.

Alright. Let’s fix this.

I leaned my head to the side.

The modesty patch’s fabric was stretched thin, straining under the sheer size of his cock, barely covering anything it was supposed to.

The thick length sat lopsided, the adhesive edges curling slightly, as if it had given up halfway through the job.

Wrinkles bunched along one side, only emphasizing how inadequate it was for the task at hand.

Ummm.

There was no hiding the sheer mass of his cock. Every ridge and vein pressed against the fabric, outlining him with such clarity that the patch seemed almost pointless—a flimsy, laughable attempt to contain something that clearly refused to be contained.

“Okay. I know what to do.” I glanced over my shoulder to call over Gissele and was shocked to see that my assistant was already right by me. “When did you get over here?”

A lusty blush spread across her face. “I. . .uh. . .figured you would need my assistance.”

I bet your horny ass did. . .

I rolled my eyes. “Get the backup modesty patches for me, please.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take this modesty patch off first?” She pointed to Liam’s cock. “I could do that. I don’t mind.”

I scowled. “Go get the backups.”

“Of course.” She cleared her throat and hurried away.

Liam—none the wiser to how he had all the women on set close to combusting—hummed a tune and winked at me. “You think you could fix this?”

“Yeah. I’ll hook you up. You kind of. . .put it on wrong and perhaps that one is too small.”

“Cool.” He gave me a nervous smile. “You know in all my years of filming, this is my first sex scene.”

“No way.”

“Yeah. It’s always been action stuff, jumping from exploding buildings or taking down a villain in a river of blood.” Then, he lowered his voice. “I’m. . .actually a bit worried this is going to be a disaster.”

“Are you trying to say I can’t do my job?”

“You’re perfect. I’m the one that may mess this up.”

“Breathe. You are ready to kill this moment and make movie-goers worldwide go crazy in the theater.”

He sighed.

“And do you want to know something that might make this easier for you?”

He looked skeptical but nodded hesitantly. “Yeah?”

“Filming an action scene is actually a lot like filming a sex scene.”

That caught his attention.

He quirked his brows. “How?”

“Both are about creating intimacy—just in different ways. With an action scene, you’re building tension between the characters, the stakes are high, and every move has to feel deliberate, like it matters.

With a sex scene, it’s the same thing—except the stakes are emotional , not physical.

Either way, you’re telling a story through movement. ”

He blinked at me. “Story through movement.”

“Yep.” I gave him a thumbs up. “We’ve already choreographed your moves days ago, so now your biggest job is to show the new connection that has come from all you both have gone through. And in your eyes. . .”

He leaned in closer.

“Make sure there is desire. Vulnerability. Every touch, every look, every pause. . .make the audience feel what the hero is feeling.”

“Ooo. I like that a lot.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I feel better too.”

“Perfect. The more confident you feel, the hotter the scene will be. And if something ever feels off, just stop and call for me when you need me.”

“Oh God. Rae, you are so perfect. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Thanks.”

Gissele returned in record time, clutching not one but four backup modesty patches like she was offering me holy relics.

Her cheeks were still flushed, and she couldn’t quite meet my eyes or Liam’s, but she managed to hand them over without saying something that would end up as Exhibit A in a future lawsuit.

“Thanks.” I shooed her off before she could get any ideas about ‘helping’ again.

Liam, bless his beautiful and clueless heart, began humming some old-school R&B song while I crouched down with the new patches.

Just another day at work.

The situation required creativity. I’d never had to combine two modesty patches before, but Liam’s, um, dimensions left me no other choice. Using one patch as a base, I strategically layered a second patch for extra coverage.

It was like erotic arts and crafts.

“There,” I secured the final piece and tugged at the drawstring lightly, making sure everything was snug but not uncomfortable. “That should hold.”

“Thanks, Rae.” He winked. “You’re my fairy godmother.”

I snorted. “Well. . .let’s get this scene happening before Marco or Ava kills us.”

“Good point.”

With him properly patched up, it was time to get the actors in position on the bed set. The crew got busy tweaking lighting and adjusting cameras which gave me a few moments to check in with Ava and Liam.

With all modesty patches in the appropriate places, they both got on the bed in the center of the set.

“Alright.” I clapped my hands to get their attention. “Let’s talk through the scene one more time to make sure we’re all comfortable. Ava, how are you feeling about the choreography?”

“Fine.” She looked up from her phone. “It’s just another day at work.”

“And Liam?” I turned to him. “Any concerns? Questions?”

“No. Just don’t forget.” He flashed me that million-dollar smile. “I want to have everyone watching going crazy, so tell me when it is bad.”

I winked at him. “I’ve got you. I already taught you the right moves for this scene.”

“And I practiced all night.”

A heavenly sigh loudly sounded behind us, and without seeing who did it, I knew that was my assistant imagining Liam thrusting those hips in perfect rhythmic fashion all night.

“Okay.” I pointed to them. “Let’s get in position.”

They did with no problem—gorgeous, tanned bodies uniting in perfect harmony.

Pure visual poetry.

This will be the hottest scene of the year.

I double-checked the placement of everything, making sure their angles were flattering to the camera but not too revealing.

“Excellent.” I gave them a thumbs up, got to the side, and signaled Marco.

“Looking good, people!” he shouted through the megaphone and went over to the main cameraman. “Let’s get this shot!”

I exhaled a long breath, grateful that everything was finally in place.

The set fell into a hushed silence as the camera began to roll.

Liam and Ava fell into their characters, easily slipping new invisible masks on their faces.

It wasn’t just acting—it was alchemy .

“You’re mine. Forever.” Liam’s fingers grazed Ava’s cheek, and his touch was the kind that spoke of longing, devotion, and something just shy of obsession.

Ava’s bottom lip quivered as if so overtaken with passion.

Good job, guys.

Liam leaned in, and their lips brushed together in a kiss so hot and tender that it made the air on set feel charged, electric.

Damn.

They began the movement of making love.

Just. . .perfect. . .

I swallowed hard, telling myself it was just a scene, that it was my job to create this moment.

And yet, there was something so hauntingly beautiful about the way they moved together, like two parts of the same soul finally colliding.

Wow.

The firelight flickered in the background, casting a golden glow over their skin.

“Oh.” Ava arched her back as Liam’s hands roamed her waist.

The blood-red sheets beneath them shifted.

I smiled.

Every kiss, every touch was carefully choreographed, yet it didn’t feel staged.

It felt real.

Too real.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to focus on the technicalities—the angle of Liam’s hand, the fall of Ava’s hair, the timing of her gasp.

But instead, my mind drifted to places it shouldn’t.

To the hollow ache in my chest.

They looked so perfect together, like a living, breathing fantasy brought to life. It was easy to see why the director knew fans would be obsessed with this pairing.

But watching them now, I felt something I hadn’t expected—a sting of loneliness that burned sharper than I’d care to admit.

I wasn’t envious of Ava, not exactly. She was beautiful, yes, and talented beyond measure, but it wasn’t her looks or her fame that made my heart twist.

It was the way Liam looked at her.

Even though it was all pretend, there was an intensity in his gaze that felt like it could shatter the world.

Like she was the only thing that mattered.

And I?

Well. . .

I’d never been looked at like that.

Not even during my marriage.

Not even during the times I’d thought love was enough to hold two people together.

I took a deep breath, willing the emotions away.

Concentrate.

This wasn’t about me.

This was about them.

About the scene.

About making something beautiful, something that would make people feel.

But wasn’t that the problem?

This scene would hit theaters, and millions of women would watch it, aching for something they might never have. They’d see this moment—the passion, the connection, the devotion—and it would remind them of all the things missing in their own lives.

And here I was, helping create that heart-shattering ache.

That thought settled heavy in my chest.

I forced my gaze back to the set.

Ava let out a soft sigh as Liam pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling, their movements slow and deliberate.

Liam whispered, “I love you.”

My heart ached some more.

“I love you too.”

The camera zoomed in.

It was mesmerizing.

And it was devastating.

I shifted my weight, my blazer suddenly feeling too tight, my skin too warm.

My mind wandered to my upcoming trip, the one I’d been planning for months.

A solo romantic trip for Valentine’s Day.

Just me.

The thought had thrilled me when I first booked it. I’d secured a reservation at one of the most exclusive restaurants on the planet, Alchemy—a culinary temple so revered that just getting on the waitlist was considered an accomplishment.

It had one Stellar star.

Thankfully, Liam had hooked me up and got my name on there.

This wasn’t just dinner.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Twenty courses.

All flawless masterpieces presented like art on a plate with hidden mysterious experiences.

And the price?

$5,000.

I sighed.

But now, watching this scene—watching two people create a moment so intimate, so connected—I couldn’t help but wonder if the trip would be enough.

Could this amazing experience in New York truly fill the emptiness currently creeping into my chest?

Or would I sit there, surrounded by strangers, and feel more alone than ever in my life?

Tension gathered in my shoulders.

Maybe. . .I shouldn’t do it.

My throat tightened as the thought pressed against me, threatening to unravel everything I’d built myself up to feel tonight.

Rae. . .we’re better than that.

I swallowed.

You are worthy. You are deserving.

And with that, something snapped in my heart—not in a way that hurt, but in a way that broke chains.

You’re going to have an amazing trip.

I fisted my hands, not in anger or frustration but in resolve.

No, I wasn’t going to sit in some Stellar-starred restaurant feeling sorry for myself. I wasn’t going to shrink into my chair, avoiding eye contact, hiding behind my phone, or letting loneliness creep into a night I had planned with so much care.

No, ma’am. Not tonight.

This Valentine’s evening, I was going to be the goddess I deserved to be.

Liam and Ava’s fake moans rose in the air, and I stood up straighter, tilting my chin higher as I finally realized that every inch of me was worthy of love, admiration, and indulgence—and if the world didn’t see that, I damn sure would.

You are worthy. You are deserving. You are goddamn amazing.

I was going to put every ounce of my energy into having the best trip of my life, no matter what.

Let’s do this.