Page 18 of Howl for Me (Moonlight Magic Studios #1)

Chapter Sixteen

Cassidy

I bite down on my bottom lip, trying not to laugh again.

The sound of furious scrubbing echoes from the bathroom.

Water splashes like he’s trying to drown himself.

I swear I just heard a whimper. Johnny didn’t say a word after the shoot.

Just snatched the towel from my hands, teeth clenched, and stomped straight to his dressing room like a man possessed.

Unlike the others, he has his own room in this house-turned-studio. I sit back on the velvet couch in the room while waiting for him to come out of the ensuite bathroom.

“God damn it,” Johnny’s voice echoes. I don't even try to hold in the giggle this time.

He hated that shoot. A part of me did too. I hate them for a very different reason than him though. I wish it were me he was touching like that. No, keep your head straight.

Which, to be fair, I get. Frankie is… a lot.

She makes no apologies for being the center of attention, and today she brought a whole damn water show with her.

I’ve never seen anything like it. I thought she peed on him.

Honestly. My brain panicked, and I was ready to throw a towel, but then I caught the crew guys in the corner murmuring like she just performed an Olympic-level stunt.

“There she goes. Fuck, that’s so hot.”

They were impressed, like what she did was some rare skill I didn’t even know existed and now here I am, sitting, thinking about how I will never be that girl.

Johnny’s had every kind of woman. Slick, confident, loud women.

The kind that walks into a room and owns it.

Women who wear fur coats with barely anything underneath and light cigarettes after sex like it’s an art form.

Women who moan on command and know how to squirt on cue and have nicknames like Cherry or Star.

Meanwhile, I’m over here in my thrifted bell bottoms and a T-shirt.

What did he call me? Plain Jane. This is just another example of why I could never pursue anything with this man.

That scene today just confirmed it. He’s in a whole different league.

And I’d be a disaster if I even tried to play along.

He deserves someone impressive. Someone who doesn’t melt when he smiles or choke on her own spit when he walks by shirtless unexpectedly.

I mean, I see him screw women on camera, and it still catches me off guard. I’d be boring. Clumsy. A letdown.

The bathroom door swings open and Johnny steps out, steam trailing behind him like he’s some pissed-off deity fresh from a scalding bath. Towel slung low around his hips, droplets still clinging to his chest hair. His feet stop short when he sees me on the couch.

His eyes narrow, head tilting just a bit. “Are you laughing?”

I try. I really do. But the corner of my mouth twitches, and then I catch the outrage on his face and lose it.

“I’m sorry,” I squeak between the first giggles, “It’s just… your skin…it’s so red.”

That does it. I start laughing, a full-on belly laugh, not even trying to hide it.

Johnny throws one hand on his hip and looks up at the ceiling like he’s praying for divine patience. “This isn’t funny,” he grits out.

“Oh, it’s absolutely funny,” I gasp, wiping my eyes. “You scrubbed your skin off. What did you use, sandpaper?”

He stomps his bare foot on the carpet like a toddler throwing a fit. Arms out. “No! It stinks! I can’t get it off. Her scent, it’s all over me.”

I snort. Like, actual pig-snort. The laugh that comes out of me is so loud it startles both of us. Johnny glares, but it’s starting to crack. I can see the corners of his mouth twitching. His shoulders shake first, then a sharp huff escapes before it turns into a full chuckle.

“Come on,” he groans, still trying to sound mad, but his voice wavers with laughter. “Stop laughing. I’m serious.”

I stand up, still giggling, and walk over to him. “Okay, okay. Let me see.”

He stiffens immediately when I lean in close, like body-tensing, breath-holding stiff. I pause for a second, wondering if it’s really me that does that to him. Can’t be. No way.

I press in, just enough to breathe him in and he smells… good. Really good. Not musky, not gross. He smells like warmth and spice and the after-sun heat that lingers on the skin.

“You smell nice,” I say softly before I can stop myself. My voice sounds too breathy. Too wanting.

His chest rises again, slower this time, as if he’s trying not to react. Water beads trail down his skin. His lips part just slightly.

“Really?” he asks, voice like smoke curling up between us.

I blink fast. Nope. Nope, Cassidy, we’re not doing this. I force myself to snap out of it, push the moment down where all the other little fantasies live. I step back, wave a hand, and fake a dramatic sniff.

“Oh, wait,” I say, leaning back in with a smirk. “Yep, you’re right. You missed a spot right there. Jeez, you reek.”

He bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing, but it doesn’t work. Then with lightning speed, he snaps the towel from around his waist and whips it at me. I yelp and leap back, catching a sting to my thigh as I tumble onto the couch, laughing again.

“Asshole!” I shout through the giggles.

He grins, full and unguarded, just standing there gloriously naked.

Water glistens off his skin, his hair messy and curling at the edges.

He looks wild and human all at once. And I want him so badly it hurts.

But I can’t have him. So I toss a cushion at his head and pretend none of this means anything.

I lean over to grab the clipboard from the coffee table, shifting just enough to pretend I don’t notice Johnny walking around the room, until he finally tugs on a pair of jeans.

“You don’t have anything until Saturday,” I say, flipping through the schedule. “So I’ll be going home tonight.”

He flops down beside me on the couch. “Really? That’s like… two whole days.”

“Yeah,” I say, keeping my eyes on the clipboard. “Which means you need to be on your best behavior for two days. Think you can handle that?”

He hums, low and untrustworthy. “I can try.”

I slap his shoulder, harder than I mean to. “Try?”

“Ow!” he grins, rubbing the spot like I broke a bone. “Okay, okay, I’ll behave. Cross my heart.”

He’s giving me the world’s least convincing innocent face. I roll my eyes.

“So,” he says, nudging me, “what’re you gonna do? On your days off.”

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “Probably go shopping. I still need something for Saturday’s event..”

His brow scrunches, confusion painting his face. “Event?”

I close my eyes and exhale. “Yes. That’s what we have to do on Saturday. Jeez, do you even look at your schedule?”

He grins, completely unapologetic, and slaps a hand on my thigh. “Nope. That’s what I have you for.”

His hand lingers. Warm, and heavy, and real. I stiffen, heart thudding once in protest before speeding up in betrayal. But I don’t move. I can’t.

“Well…” I say, trying not to stumble over the words. “We have a party to go to. Hector wants you there and mingling. It’s going to be packed, producers, agents, the studio’s new execs. Everyone. They’ll even have the wardrobe department there.”

“Wardrobe?” he says with mock fear. “So not just pretty faces and expensive cologne, actual people I’ve annoyed.”

“Exactly,” I say, still very aware of his hand on my leg. “You need to do some major damage control.”

“So I have to play nice and kiss everyone’s ass,” he says, tapping my thigh lightly with his fingers like a drumbeat.

“Yes. But don’t look at it that way.”

“So you’re going clothes shopping?” he asks, too casually.

I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah. Why?”

“Can I come?”

That snaps the trance right in half. I scoff, amused, and push his hand off my thigh as I stand up. “No, you can’t. It’s my day off, remember?”

He growls, actually growls like the werewolf he is, and looks up at me “Why can’t I come? How are you gonna get around?”

I grab my clipboard and tuck it neatly into my bag. “I’ll ride the bus.”

He recoils like I said I was gonna hitchhike barefoot across the freeway. “No way. You can’t ride the bus.”

I shrug. “I like the bus. What’s wrong with the bus?”

“No one likes the bus,” he says, horrified. “It’s sticky. And slow. And smells like, like despair and wet gum.”

I bite back a grin and zip my bag slowly, savoring the way he watches me like I’m a live wire he doesn’t know how to touch. “Let me bring you,” he says, voice soft now, like he’s bargaining.

I roll my eyes but try not to let the smile bloom too obviously. Johnny wants to tag along with me shopping. Why?

“No,” I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Now come on. I’ll let you bring me home.”

He stands, finally, dragging his hands through his hair with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. So you can see me naked, but I can’t see you?”

My jaw drops. “Oh, that’s why you were being so generous about taking me shopping. You thought you’d get a show.”

He grins, unashamed. “I tried.”

I snap my fingers at him and head for the door. “Yeah, yeah, come on, perv.”

He throws a shirt over his head and follows me out, muttering just loud enough for me to hear, “But you like it.”

I don’t reply. Not out loud. But… yeah. I do.