“If you want that specifically, we need her body double.”
Marin stood to the side, rubbing her temples while Sojo stood between Eddie and Sebastien.
“We won’t be able to get the up-close scenes of her face that I want if we use the double. This is bullshit. Marin’s done this sort of thing before. It’s a cakewalk.” Eddie waved it off, like it was a done deal.
“Sebastien’s right,” Sojo said when Eddie turned to her.
As Eddie exploded, Sebastien moved over to Marin. She looked tired. It had been a long day already and they still had this last scene to finish up. She was wearing the clothes for the scene: a shirt half-buttoned over the pretty, silvery blue bra and jeans, no shoes, her hair artfully disheveled.
While Eddie demanded to know when actresses had turned to fading flowers, Sebastien caught Marin’s eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” she said shortly. “And right now, I’m getting more and more irritated.”
Her gaze shot past him when Eddie’s voice rose, threatening to break the sound barrier. She stepped to the side and said, “Hey! I’m right here . . . if you want to get any more insulting, why don’t you just say them directly to me?”
Eddie opened his mouth, then shut it.
Sojo looked at him like she wanted to smack him. “Can we please wrap this up?”
Sebastien stepped aside and let Marin go in front of him, and the crew and cast once more took their places.
It had become rote by now—or it should have been—but as he went through each step, rushing Marin—no, Marlena, through her house, pausing when she started to fight—then picking her up—this was where the assistant director wanted to change things, make it more of a struggle, Sebastien kept finding himself going back to what she’d said earlier.
You put your hands on me. I put mine on you . . .
There was hardly any noise save for Marin’s voice as she went through her character’s lines. “Put me down, you son of a bitch . . . You can’t . . . You can’t . . .”
She kicked him and he caught her around the back of the knees. “It’s okay to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”
They got through the door.
Sojo called cut.
“You see?” Eddie demanded. “You see? It would have a lot more visceral impact if the struggle was more intense. We need to show her fear.”
Sebastien ignored him as he eased Marin back to her feet. She pushed her hair back, her gaze cutting straight to Eddie. “She’s begging him to leave her alone. He has her pleading in the car. I think that’s visceral enough. We’re not shooting torture porn here. He’s her savior, Eddie. Try to remember that.”
Eddie jerked as if he’d been slapped.
Sojo pressed her lips together, hiding a smile.
Sebastien didn’t bother.
“Are we done?” Marin asked, looking at Sojo.
***
Filming was a blur.
The scenes with Sebastien were a hot, erotic blur.
She knew she’d done her job because Sojo gave her that short, tight nod that indicated pleasure and when she called for them to wrap up for the day, she gave Marin a pat on the arm.
Marin got the hell off the set and hurried through the rest of what had to be done as quickly as she could.
She wanted to be alone in her trailer so she could fall apart. She was pretty sure she would.
She was equally sure that she wouldn’t stay alone and she was right. She’d barely had a chance to switch into the jeans and sweater she’d worn to the set that morning when there was a knock at the door.
She didn’t even have to guess who it was.
Sebastien raked her over with a look. “Are you ready to leave?”
“I . . .” Part of her wanted to stall, but she was just too tired. “Yeah. I just need my shoes.”
He gave a terse nod and went back to staring out over the set. Guess that meant he wasn’t coming in. She closed the door and dropped down on the couch, in almost the same spot where he’d been a few hours ago. Staring off into the distance, she tried to get her mind in order, but there was a rough jumble of thoughts. She kept seeing Sebastien as he’d stood in front of her earlier, how he’d been last year when he’d asked her out. How he’d been over the past few months.
And how he’d looked when he called out Monica’s name while holding her, only moments after making love to her.
Did she buy the answer Sebastien had given her?
She didn’t know.
What was really pathetic was the fact that she was starting to want him enough that it didn’t really matter what the answer was, as long as he wanted her, too. And she knew he did.
Through the window, she heard somebody call his name, and although she couldn’t make out the response, she heard the deep, mellow cadence as he responded. Time to go, she told herself, slipping her feet into a pair of shoes and grabbing her bag.
Checking to make sure she had her phone, she saw there were a few messages.
One from Abby.
She read it.
So, you and Seb, huh? I think we need to talk. Call me. I mean it. I know something’s up.
Marin bit her lip. Then, without letting herself brood about it, she responded.
I will. Soon.
Sebastien was on his feet and turning toward her the second the door opened. Self-consciously, Marin locked the door to the trailer while he stood close enough that she could smell the soap he’d used as he showered away the sweat of the day. It was always hot under the lights, hotter still when you added Sebastien Barnes into the mix.
Her brain started to feed her images as she turned back to him, still holding the key to her trailer. She clung to it, her palm damp as her memory replayed the brief seconds she’d seen him in his shower. Had he touched himself today? Did he do that a lot—
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but whatever it is . . .” Sebastien dipped his head and pressed his mouth to her ear. “You need to stop, otherwise we’re going to be giving a hell of a lot more than speculation to the gossip mill, Marin.”
He pulled back, but she reached out. Driven by too many emotions to name, she caught his arm. “So?”
Something hot and bright lit his eyes. He reached out and caught her chin, tilted her head back. “So . . .” He moved a little closer—not a lot. There was still plenty of room between them, but the impression of intimacy was there. “Just what are you saying, Marin?”
Marin wasn’t sure she knew what she was saying, but one thing she did know—she was tired of all the confusion roiling inside her. And she was tired of struggling to pretend that she didn’t feel anything more than friendship. It was damn obvious she felt a lot more, although Sebastien hadn’t seen it.
Moving closer, she took away that impression of intimacy. There was no denying it now. She was standing all but in his arms. He slid one hand up, gripped the damp weight of her hair and tugged. She arched her neck back, staring at him, breath catching as she waited.
But he didn’t kiss her.
She was desperate to feel his mouth on hers. All day, they’d worked on a handful of scenes, his character barreling in, then all but undressing her. When she resisted him, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. In the car, he’d put her down and touched her cheek. “Stop screaming. I know you’re scared, but you have to listen to me. I’m not here to hurt you. I could never hurt you . . .”
There was a deep intimate connection between their characters and the scenes they’d filmed today had only added to the tension from earlier.
She needed him to kiss her.
But Sebastien just studied her eyes for a minute before letting his gaze slide down to her lips. Then he let go of her hair and stepped back.
Damn.
***
Sebastien thought
about taking her to his place.
He wanted the privacy it offered, but at the same time, he didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. They had talking to do and it seemed it would be better to do it on neutral ground, but where in the hell was that?
In the end, he figured her hotel was closer to neutral ground than anything else. She was no more at home there than he was in any old hotel and he already knew he’d done something pretty awful. Otherwise she wouldn’t have shut him down and shut him out so thoroughly. Giving her whatever comfort she felt in her own space was the least he could do.
But they were definitely going to finish this.
Marin was getting more nervous by the second. He could see it in the way she held herself as they rode up the elevator, her shoulders rigid, her stare taking on that aloof quality she presented when dealing with reporters and others she wasn’t really happy about dealing with.
He wasn’t going to take offense, he told himself.
She was on edge and stressed and . . . pregnant.
Pregnant—and it was his baby.
Marin was carrying his baby.
It hit him then in a way it hadn’t all day. He’d deliberately blocked it out of his head, because he hadn’t had much choice. He had to do his job, right? But now . . . the elevator doors slid open on a soft chime just as he staggered, his back slamming into the wall. Marin turned to look at him, her eyes widening a little. “You’re pregnant.”
“Ah . . . yes. You’ve known this.” She placed a hand on the doors as they started to close. “Come on, Sebastien.”
“You’re pregnant. It’s mine. She’s mine—he’s mine. Whatever. You’re pregnant.”
Marin gave him a smile, wobbly at first but it settled into place. “I know.” The elevator made a buzzing sound and she gave him an exasperated look. “I don’t think the elevator likes this much. Can we get off?”
“Fuck the elevator,” he muttered. But he managed to shove himself forward and momentum got him the rest of the way. Once he was off the elevator, he reached up and touched Marin’s cheek. “Are you . . . are you happy about this? The baby, I mean?”
The smile that settled on her face this time was the most beautiful, most amazing smile he’d ever seen. “I don’t think happy touches what I’m feeling, Sebastien.” She covered his hand with hers, then lowered it, closing her fingers around his as she started to walk, all but leading him to her room. “Come on, Seb. The hallway isn’t the place for this.”
Sebastien thought about telling her he didn’t care where they were, but then he decided maybe he did.
Because now that the impact of everything had really hit him, he had . . . questions. Questions that didn’t relate at all to why she hadn’t been there with him in the morning or what had happened or why it had taken so long for her to tell him. He wanted to know more about this . . . the baby. Her. How she felt. Did she feel anything . . .
He realized he was getting to the point of sounding stupid, and he didn’t even care.
Hell, he couldn’t even sound stupid yet because he hadn’t voiced the questions, but that didn’t matter. He’d be stupid for Marin Lassiter. He’d been that way his whole life anyway. Why change now?
Mind racing at a hundred miles an hour, he followed her into her room and stood there as she dropped her purse and turned to look at him. Arms folded across her chest, she stared at him and it hit him that he’d never seen her look vulnerable.
It made him want to pull her against him and protect her from the whole damn world.
It also made any lingering anger he felt drain away.
He’d been stupid drunk. She’d been there for him—again.
And things had . . . happened.
Now they were going to have a baby. Maybe if he was lucky she even felt something for him.
He took a step toward her.
Marin lifted her chin.
It made him smile and that made her narrow her eyes. She had the most stubborn chin. Coming to a stop in front of her, he reached up, fisting his hand around her braid and tugging. When her head went back, he pressed his lips to her chin, then skimmed down lower.
Marin held herself still.
Since she wasn’t arguing, he decided to move lower still.
She’d pulled on an oversized men’s dress shirt over a tank top and he curled an arm around her waist, steadying her as he went lower, his lips tracing the lacy edge of the tank.
Her hands went to his hair. “Sebastien, what are you . . .”
The words trailed away when he cupped her breast in his hands. “You’re already getting bigger.”
“I know.”
Lifting his head, he stared into her flushed face. “I want to see you.”
“I was half-naked in front of you and the crew for most of the day,” she pointed out.
“That’s work. This is . . .” His gaze dropped lower and he gripped the hem of her shirt. “I want to see you.”
After a few seconds, she shrugged out of the dress shirt. But when she went to pull the tank top off, he took over. All day, she’d worn that sexy, alluring underwear, designed to tempt a man to insanity. Now she was basic black and Sebastien didn’t think he’d ever seen anything quite so enticing.
And she was bigger, her breasts so full, they were straining the cups of the bra.
When he freed the front clasp, she made a soft noise in the back of her throat.
His eyes shot to hers. “Okay?”
“Ah . . . yeah.” She licked her lips and he leaned in, rubbing his mouth against hers. “I just . . . Why aren’t we talking?”
“We are talking.”
“You’re working on getting me naked. That’s a different kind of talking and we both know it.” Her hands gripped his shoulders, tightening as he went to his knees and pressed a kiss to her belly.
“True. I just . . .” Sebastien pressed his mouth to her belly again. Marin was slim. Hollywood pretty much dictated it, but she’d been blessed with a long, slender frame anyway. Her belly was still flat, but under his mouth, he was almost positive that there was a firmness that hadn’t been there before. “You’re pregnant. My baby is growing inside you.”
Slowly, he lifted his eyes upward and stared at her.
Marin’s lips parted on a shaky sigh and she nodded. “I guess . . . well, you don’t look mad about it.”
“Mad . . .” Sebastien stood up and pulled her against him. Her lower body tucked in tight against his cock. “Well, I guess it would all depend on your definition of the word. Mad, desperate, insane . . . if that’s the usage you’re going with? Maybe I am mad.”
He rubbed his cheek against hers, breathing in the scent of her.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, drawing him closer, although there just wasn’t any way he could get as close as he wanted to be, as he needed to be. Not unless she was naked and he was inside her and she was clinging to him, as desperate and driven as he felt.
“But angry . . . no.” He caught her lower lip, tugged. “I’m not angry. I’m a lot of things but that’s not what I am now. Maybe earlier, but not now.”
“What are you?” Her voice shuddered, trembling.
“I don’t think it’s possible to explain that in words.” He picked her up then and carried her over to the table—it was the nearest flat surface. Her breasts lifted for him, the cups of the bra falling to the side. He caught the straps and smoothed them down, out of the way. There were faint red marks under her breasts from the band and he kissed them. At the same time, he splayed his hand over her belly. “I can’t really explain how I’m feeling. I know I’m excited. Happy. And I know what I want.”
“And what is that?” Her voice broke into a whisper and she stared at him, almost afraid to ask.
“This . . .” He rubbed a slow circle over her belly. “I want this.” He pressed a kiss to her
chest, just above her heart. “And this.”
He came back up over her and kissed her mouth. “This. All of you . . . the baby. Everything. Can I have you, Marin?”
Her response was to reach for him.
It wasn’t the yes he’d been hoping for, but for now, he’d take it.
Her skin felt almost feverish against his, shockingly hot. Her eyes burned hot, bright. “Are we really doing this?” she asked.
“Unless you tell me to stop.”
Marin closed her eyes, her lashes laying against her cheeks. “I should. We never . . . We haven’t talked.”
“We will. Do you want me to stop?”
“Hell, no. You’re just plain bad for me, Sebastien . . . and I can’t find it in me to care.”
Rolling to his back, he pulled her on top of him, sliding his hands up so that he cupped her breasts. “I don’t have to be bad.” He didn’t want to be bad for her.
She bent low over him, her breasts like an offering now and he rose up, catching one tight nipple between his teeth. She made a low, hungry noise and arched against him. The pressure against his cock was almost enough to make his eyes cross, and then she started to move, finding a rhythm that might drive him to embarrass himself if he wasn’t careful.
It drove him mad, made him want to grab her and flip her over, strip her naked and come inside her—
Swearing, he gripped her hips and arched up, grinding against her.
Marin whimpered and met his movements. He thought maybe he could feel the heat of her through all her layers of clothing.
“Naked,” he said, mental powers reduced down to the absolute basics. “You need to be naked.”
She blinked down at him.
Another slow blink when he shifted their positions again, tucking her back under him. He pushed onto his knees and reached for the button of her jeans, looking into her eyes. Her lashes swept low for a few seconds, but then she looked straight back at him. When he started to tug her jeans down, she lifted her hips to help, and then she sat up, grabbing the hem of his shirt and dragging it upward.
Sebastien hissed as she leaned forward, her mouth hot and open. She dragged her lips from his heart and began to move them, going to her knees as she skimmed her mouth toward his neck before continuing on. Her hands dipped into his hair as she kissed him, her tongue tangling with his, the taste of her a sweet, hot glimpse into paradise.
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