Page 34 of Lights, Camera, Love

‘It won’t. The last thing Village Pictures would want is for this clip to get out.

And you won’t be fired over it—trust me.

Everything you said was valid and justified.

It’s Buzz’s behaviour that’s reprehensible, and it’s time he’s given the boot.

This clusterfuck of a movie needs a new director, and the video is how we can get one. ’

My heart rate kicks into overdrive. ‘Really? You don’t think it would kill the whole movie if the director got fired this late in the piece?’

He shakes his head. ‘It happens a lot more than you think. Directors get fired mid-project all the time and another director steps in—it’s not the end of the world. Surely, there can’t be anyone worse for this project than that sexist scumbag.’

My rigid shoulders begin to loosen as I consider the possibility of never having to be in the same room as Brian ‘Buzz’ Winter ever again.

‘All right. Take the video into Village Pictures,’ I say. ‘I want you to. Just let me run it past my agent first, but I think she’ll be all for it.’

The faintest trace of a smile touches Kye’s lips, and that alone is enough to drain the strength from my knees.

‘Stop doing that,’ I say softly, my gaze slipping to his mouth.

‘Stop doing what?’

‘Smiling.’

Surprise flashes in his eyes, warming them up. ‘I didn’t smile.’

‘Good. Some of us are trying to think straight around here. A distraction like that doesn’t help.’

A light laugh sneaks out of him, and now there’s no hope of avoiding it. He holds his hand over his mouth. ‘I thought you liked it when I smiled. What was it you said? You should do that more often .’

I catch my face in my palms.

‘ You have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen ,’ Kye continues. ‘ It’s actually ridiculous how stunning it is .’

I groan. ‘Please stop.’

‘ Don’t waste it .’

I free my face from my hands and feel the blush searing my cheeks as I gaze up at him. Only when he’s alone with me have I seen him smile like this—dimples showing, eyes shining, tongue playing a little with his teeth. Never when Austin’s there, too.

‘And I meant it,’ I say softly.

A tender look seeps into Kye’s eyes, and I wish I could erase the hesitation, the self-imposed torture, that lives in his face, but I can’t. The same way I can’t extinguish the uncertainty, the fear, that’s made a home in my chest.

‘I don’t want to be owned, Evie,’ Kye suddenly utters, and something about his voice—the aching desperation that underpins it—knocks all the air out of my lungs.

Stepping right up to him, I reach for the arm hanging by his side and slowly, cautiously, weave my fingers through his. His grasp curls tightly into mine, and I bring our joined hands to my mouth.

Taking my time, I kiss each one of his knuckles. His eyes grow heavy as he fixes them steadily on my mouth.

Now that I’m touching him, I can’t seem to stop.

I let go of his hand and lightly track my fingers up his stomach over his white shirt, feeling him shiver against me.

A sigh rolls out of his throat as I trace my fingers higher and higher, brushing the length of his silk tie and hesitating only when I reach the loosened knot resting against his neck.

‘Why is everything about you so irresistible?’ I murmur, my gaze lingering on the patch of bare skin above his tie, then drifting down to the contours of his shirt where it sits against his muscles.

His cheeks flush and his pupils darken as I begin untying the knot.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ I ask.

Kye shakes his head. When I ask myself the same question, my answer is a resounding no . I don’t want to stop. As if it were a song, I want to tune in and listen to the rhythms of my body, which, right now, is thrumming a tune of quiet desperation.

I return to my task with shaky fingers, loosening Kye’s tie until it hangs lower around his neck. I give the thinner strap a tug, and the silk comes undone and drops into my hand.

‘You know, I’ve been thinking,’ I say with a tremble.

‘And I think I’ve realised what might be the issue here.

I feel like you think a little too much about certain things.

’ I stretch the tie between my hands and lift the fabric to Kye’s eyes.

‘So … maybe if you can’t see me, you can forget who I am and all the reasons you think we shouldn’t be doing this. ’

With a burst of the confidence that Kye seems to draw out of me, I carefully fasten the tie around his head, covering his eyes and ruffling up his hair. He makes no move to stop me.

‘I could never forget you,’ he says, and I almost kiss him then, but I hold back.

His perfectly fitted shirt looks like it was made for a body like his, and I can’t resist cupping the firm ridges of his shoulders and running my palms down his arms. What’s even more tempting is how his lips are parted—they’re just wide enough for me to see his tongue sitting at the front of his mouth, like he’s hungry for something.

He sighs as I press the pad of my thumb to his pouty bottom lip, gently guiding it open until I can’t resist anymore.

I replace my thumb with my mouth, covering his lips with my own.

He groans as our tongues catch, heat licking up my spine.

Every bone in my body disintegrates as he wraps his arms around my lower back and hauls me tighter against him, our mouths crushing together like we can’t get close enough.

A moan rumbles out of him as I catch the fullness of his bottom lip between my teeth and suck on it. His fingers travel up my spine to tighten around the base of my neck, and he holds me firmly in place, kissing me senseless until there’s no breath left in my body.

The opening bars of ‘All the Stars’ by Kendrick Lamar and SZA filter through the speaker as Kye’s shallow breaths wash over my lips. ‘I didn’t come in here for this,’ he says. ‘I only came in here to talk.’

‘We are talking.’ I catch his face between my palms, the edges of his tie slipping between my fingers. His lips land back on mine, pulling me back under. I have zero interest in ever coming back to the surface. The responsibilities of life be damned—I’m staying right here forever.

It’s Kye who eventually breaks the kiss, pulling back to cup my face, stroking his thumbs over my cheeks.

When he lets go, I begin fiddling with my dress zipper, my eyes falling to the tightly stretched fabric around the fly of his pants.

‘I need to see you, Evie,’ he says roughly.

A quivering breath passes through my lips. ‘I need to see you, too.’

He tugs the tie off his head, his hair falling into a tousled mess. When I begin unzipping my dress, he lurches forward to take over.

‘You think I haven’t been dreaming about doing this?’ he asks, flames burning in his eyes as he finishes undoing my dress and pushes it off my shoulders. The silky fabric falls to the carpet, and Kye’s gaze drags down my skin, now covered only by a pair of lacy panties.

‘You’re gonna be the death of me,’ he says, his eyes clinging to my breasts. He steps forward and splays his fingers around them, squeezing and kneading, before bringing his hot mouth to one of my nipples.

I breathe his name as he groans, my fingers sinking into his hair while he drags his soft tongue over me.

When I catch him pressing his palm to the swell in his pants, like he’s trying to ease some of the pressure, I nudge his hand away and replace it with my own, my fingers savouring the thick, firm length of him.

With a rough moan, his mouth tightens around my breast, and after a few more strokes of his tongue, he straightens. ‘Get on the bed, Evie,’ he says firmly, raising my body temperature to a million degrees.

I climb up onto the crisp white bedsheets, and Kye’s desire-filled eyes devour every centimetre of my skin as I scoot back a little.

‘Why are you allowed to keep your clothes on?’ I tease. ‘Don’t tell me that someone with a body like yours is shy.’

He shifts to stand at the foot of the bed and sets his confident gaze on me as he undoes his shirt buttons. ‘ Shy? You haven’t been paying attention.’

Yes, Groucho. Throw all that surly attitude my way.

I rest back on my elbows and watch him undress down to black boxer briefs.

I blow through my lips as I look away and then back at him, giving my head a little shake because he’s so …

yum . My eyes rake over the ink scattered across his toned chest—a compass rose, a Hercules beetle, the word ‘Courage’ scrawled across his upper rib, and an insect with brightly coloured wings.

‘I didn’t figure you were a butterfly kind of guy,’ I quip, nodding at the tattoo.

‘It’s a moth.’ He drops a knee onto the bed and pushes it between my thighs. ‘A Picasso moth.’

‘A Picasso moth,’ I echo. I take a closer look at its striking wing patterns. ‘Has it got some kind of special meaning?’

He shrugs a shoulder. ‘It’s just cool-looking.’

I smile. ‘Like you.’

A dimple pops in his cheek as he smirks. ‘Oh, I just look good, huh? Nothing else to me?’

I shake my head. ‘Nothing else to you.’

He falls forward, palms landing on either side of my head, eyes gleaming as he gazes down at me at close range. ‘Look what you do to me, Evie,’ he says.

My eyes slip to his boxer briefs.

‘Are you trying to prove that I didn’t know what hard was until now?’ he asks throatily.

I let out a breath and reach down to cup him, savouring the little groan he lets out as I squeeze his thick hardness through the fabric.

‘I am definitely trying to prove that,’ I say, nodding.

A needy breath escapes me as his fingertips brush against my inner thigh, tracing a line up to the waistband of my underwear.

He slips his fingers inside the fabric, and I practically sizzle with anticipation, but instead of touching my throbbing skin, he uses them to peel the fabric off me and slide it down my legs.