by Max Monroe
Blood buzzed in my veins, and a whoosh blurred in my ears. For some reason, I had an inescapable need to ease his discomfort.
Everything else between us—the fights, the kissing, the nasty words we’d slung at one another—didn’t matter in that moment.
I just wanted him to be okay.
“I’m so sorry, Levi,” I whispered. My voice shook with sentiment, but the unsteadiness was worth it. Because his blue eyes lost their harsh glare as they lifted to mine. “I know I can’t understand what you’re feeling right now, but just know I agree with you on this. I tried to get them to change their mind.”
“You agree with me on this?” The hardness of his jaw softened, and his lips went from pursed to parted. He stared at me, but it wasn’t with scrutiny or judgment. It was with surprise—and a renewed consideration. Like, maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.
“Of course I do,” I whispered back. “This story isn’t just some made-up screenplay for the sake of making money. This is a real story. A tragic story. It is yours and Grace’s story. It is Cold, Montana’s story. And I think it deserves to be told the way it really happened.”
His eyes shuttered, closing off secrets with the pull of a curtain. I wondered at the timing and reason, but I had no time to linger.
“Then why are you still here?” he asked. “Why are you still going along with it?”
I knew it sounded crazy, but ever since I’d arrived in Cold, Montana, I felt like I needed to be here. Like some sort of magnet lay within the town’s limits and pulled at my core. I thought carefully about my words, hoping to make him understand that.
“Because no matter what I do, they will make this movie. I couldn’t bear the thought of another actress taking this role and not understanding how important it is. I feel like I’m the only one who really cares about making sure Grace’s story is told right.”
“You thought about quitting?” he asked, his voice so quiet I wouldn’t have heard it had we not been in the silent, vacant room.
I nodded.
“But you stayed?”
I nodded again. “Because of Grace.” And maybe because of you too.
My thoughts urged my feet into action without a conscious decision, and with two careful steps, I moved even closer to him.
He did the same, each of us doing our part to close the short distance between us. By the time we stopped, our chests were mere inches away, and with blue looking into green, our gazes locked together in a vise.
Something shifted in him. I saw it in the way his eyes softened and the hard lines of his jaw calmed. The tension in his shoulders released, and my heart pounded wildly inside of my chest. My breath hitched as he moved both of his big, strong hands up my arms, shoulders, until they reached the tresses of my hair.
Silence stretched between us as we continued to stare at one another. We couldn’t look away.
I didn’t know who made the next move.
But one moment, we were looking at one another, and the next, our hands were pulling each other closer. Flesh on flesh, the final inch to connection was seamless. Our lips danced a familiar rhythm that I recognized as ours.
Hard. Rough. Our mouths melded together as if we were starved and each other’s lips were a feast. His hands stayed in my hair, massaging his fingertips into my long locks while I dug my fingernails into the strong muscles of his shoulders.
I anchored myself in the grip of his hot, real flesh and let the rest go. The past, the reason we’d been thrown together, and all the excuses for why we wouldn’t work.
It was here and now, and Levi felt like the air I needed to breathe.
Fuck, he tastes good.
And without understanding why, I wanted more.
This attraction, it felt otherworldly. Like it came from somewhere deep inside my soul and I couldn’t deny it if I tried.
But right now, I wasn’t denying it. And neither was he.
His hands moved down my arms again until they reached my hips, yanking at the small sliver of flesh left exposed at the bottom of my sweater. Pressure and contact turned to lifting, and my legs wrapped around his waist. He turned us around until my ass rested on the empty desk.
Goose bumps rose across my skin, and my nipples grew hard and sensitive beneath my bra as he kissed me deeper. I reciprocated, delving my tongue into his mouth and tasting the sweetness of his lips from the inside out.
I throbbed and ached, and I felt my panties grow damp with arousal.
Instinctually, my legs wrapped tighter around him in response, and my hips took on a mind of their own as they ground against him. I needed more. More contact, more teasing, more pleasure.
God, he was big. And hard. And I wanted to know what he looked like beneath his uniform pants. I wanted to know how he’d feel inside of me. My mouth, my pussy—I wanted to feel his heavy warmth everywhere.
I moaned and ground down harder against him when his lips moved down my cheek to my neck, to my collarbone.
He responded with a gruff, raspy groan.
My toes curled, and I felt instantly greedy to eat up all of his sexy sounds. Groans, moans, growls, screams—I craved each of them in vivid detail.
Three loud knocks rapped against the shut—and thankfully, locked—door before I could try to make my fantasies become reality.
We both startled, hands dropping away from each other like we were on fire. But our bodies were still connected, my legs still wrapped around his waist and his still-hard cock pressed against me.
“Hello?” someone asked from the other side of the door.
I pressed a finger to Levi’s lips and shook my head in a “don’t respond” gesture. The feel of his hot, wet flesh on my fingers made me shake.
The knob jostled, but whoever was on the other side was impatient. When there wasn’t instant success, their footsteps echoed down the hallway, retreating away from the door.
“Shit,” I slurred, still drugged with arousal. It was so potent, not fading at all with the time spent not kissing, that I forced myself to do an appraisal of why. His cock was still very much hard and pressed against the apex of my thighs. And even through my jeans, I could tell he was big and turned way the fuck on.
No wonder I feel so out of control. There’d been absolutely no pause for logic this time.
Shocked and confused, I disentangled myself from him, unwrapping my legs and letting them fall heavily open. He escaped immediately, and with two steps back, he put space between us and turned his back to me.
“Jesus Christ.” He let out a deep breath and ran his hands roughly through his hair. It stood on end and shot out in several directions.
“What was that?” I asked on a whisper, desperate to end how alone I felt with only his back in view. His shoulders tensed—the weight of the world coming back in an instant.
“It was nothing.”
Nothing. Like a knife straight to my heart, that word hurt more than any of the careless words Levi had ever said to me.
Nothing. What a line of bullshit. I knew I wasn’t the only one on that desk damn near fucking with my clothes still on.
Now, it was my turn to bristle.
“Nothing?” I questioned and hopped off the desk. The sound of my boots hitting the floor was undeniable, but he didn’t move. He still only had his back to offer, and the distant move only made rage seep into my veins.
“You know, you could be a fucking man and actually turn around and face me,” I spat.
Calling a guy’s manhood into question always got him moving, and Levi was no different.
He spun on his heels, his blue eyes finally finding mine. But there wasn’t kindness twined in their depths, and there wasn’t respect. His sneer was patronizing and filled with false bluster. One veined arm flexed as he grabbed crudely onto the bulge in his pants. “I’m pretty sure we both know I’m all fucking man, sweetheart.”
My lip curled at the foul move. “Don’t patronize me with nicknames, sweetheart.”
&nbs
p; He laughed, but it was all wrong—cocky and disconnected, there was nothing left of the man I’d first brought into this room.
I didn’t know what had happened. There was a reason we kept finding ourselves in situations like this. When it came to the laws of attraction, it was all pretty simple; you didn’t just keep kissing someone you didn’t want to be kissing.
“I know I wasn’t the only one who felt something on that desk,” I challenged. His face never changed. Emotionless and cutting, he was resolved to his new game.
“I didn’t feel anything.”
I glared, and one index finger went directly in front of his face. “You’re so full of shit,” I spat. “So fucking full of shit.”
Quick as a bullet, he moved toward me, damn near lifting me off my feet and locking our lips in a kiss. Again.
Our mouths melded and moved, and when his tongue slipped past my lips to dance with mine, I moaned.
My brain swam with confusion and arousal and a million other things I couldn’t figure out, but the one that was the most intense was want.
I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to keep kissing me.
But quicker than it started, he stopped it, and I was back on my feet, Levi staring down at me with that goddamn taunt of voided emotion.
“See? Nothing,” he whispered. I felt his words clench my gut and slide up into my throat like a ball of sick.
I swallowed past the discomfort and fought for composure. He wouldn’t break me. I wouldn’t succumb to insecurity, and I wouldn’t let go of what I knew was true. There were two people in this room, and goddammit, both of us were involved.
Cued by his obscene gesture, I made one of my own. His cock jumped in my hand as I reached out and squeezed it in the palm of my hand. His eyes flared and his jaw flexed. “You’re a terrible actor, Levi Fox. I know I wasn’t on that desk alone damn near fucking with my clothes on. You were there too, and no matter how much you want to deny it, you were feeling something.”
He wrapped his fingers around my wrist and freed my grip with a yank. “Feeling like fucking and feeling something are two different things, honey.”
“Why do I keep thinking you’re something other than an asshole?” I seethed, ripping my wrist away. The flesh from under his hand was still white from the pressure.
I didn’t dare confront what the vigor in his hold might mean.
Without looking back, I walked past him and out of the room.
Screw Levi Fox and his many goddamn moods.
I was done with his whiplash.
Ivy lay across the bed, her red hair fanned out across the white pillow beneath her head. Her green eyes sparkled and shone in the soft lighting, and she writhed beneath the sheets, her lips parted, her gaze growing hazy.
Soft moans filled my ears, and I grimaced.
I hated the view.
My reason for hating it had nothing to do with the visual of Ivy herself but the Hollywood Heartthrob strategically placing his hands all over Ivy’s silky smooth skin.
Fuck, while I was making admissions of my loathing, I might as well cop to hating my reason for hating the view.
His hands were all over her, his fingers strategically sliding across the stunning planes of soft curves and flawless skin, and I was Roid Rage-level jealous. Out of my mind, clenching fists, overflowing with seething hate jealous.
Just two days ago, she’d had her hands on me and her tongue in my mouth, and I’d been a huge, spiteful dick.
God, she’d felt good. Her perfect ass in my hands. Her little hips grinding against me at a maddening pace. My hard cock nestled against her denim-covered pussy.
If we hadn’t been interrupted, would I have stopped?
I doubted I wanted to know the real answer to that question.
“Grace,” Johnny murmured into her ear, and I grimaced…again.
Under the layers of Johnny and Ivy and my rampant jealousy lay another connection I didn’t want to face. Me and Grace.
I averted my eyes from the scene before me and ran a hand through my hair.
I just wanted to be numb. To my past. To my present. To my fucking future.
I didn’t want to feel anything. I didn’t want to rehash my mistakes with Grace and my responsibility for her fate, and I didn’t like the nagging pull to try again. Relationships weren’t for me. It’d been fucking proven.
Yeah, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are feeling something.
With a mind of its own, my gaze moved back to the bed. I couldn’t stop watching her.
I couldn’t stop myself from imagining taking Johnny’s place.
I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what her real moans would sound like when I slid inside of her.
I wanted to know what she tasted like, how tight she’d feel around my cock. I wanted to know it all. Ivy fucking Stone had a very real effect on me.
God, I wish I could hate her for it.
“Cut!” Boyce called from his chair, pulling me from my incessant thoughts and giving my eyes a much-needed reprieve. He took off his headphones and walked over a few wire cables and onto the infamous set that was supposed to be Grace’s bedroom.
It was a half-assed remake of her bedroom, by the way. Too dark. Too modern. It looked nothing like the light and airy, overly feminine bedroom it had been when she was alive. Where sleek white sheets currently lay, frilly pillowcases and a yellow-and-pink patched quilt would have been in their place.
And her nightstand wouldn’t have been anywhere near that clean. If it were really her bedroom, that very same nightstand would’ve been cluttered with books, reading glasses, and the ridiculous retainer she used to wear because she was adorably obsessed with dental health and having the straightest teeth possible.
Honestly, I was thankful those little tidbits of Grace had remained private, information privy to only her nearest and dearest.
Well, at least, it had for now. Who knew if they’d end up adding that shit in later?
Seeing that I’d been on set as a liaison for the past few days while they started to run through scenes, I’d learned quickly that anything could change.
Even the storyline.
When it came to Grace’s house, Ivy had an insider’s view. And although the bedrooms had been redone by her mom, the living room and kitchen inside her old house were still one hundred percent Grace.
I’d yet to hear Ivy mention anything regarding the difference in décor from Grace’s real home to the film set’s portrayal. But it appeared she was sensitive to the details of Grace’s life that should remain private. Either that, or she was oblivious.
I couldn’t even question it; though, I knew it was the former.
Ivy had said she wanted to portray the strong, determined, and confident woman Grace had been. She wanted to really know her. Ever since she’d arrived in Cold, Montana, Ivy had done nothing but prove her honest motivations related to Grace’s character time and time again.
Hell, she’d essentially stalked me at the station in hopes I’d talk to her about it all, about her.
And all I’d done was give her grief and misplaced anger.
I lifted a hand to my chest in a pathetic attempt to rub away the sudden discomfort growing beneath my rib cage.
“Listen, Ivy,” Boyce droned, calling my attention. “We’ve gotta get through this scene if we’re gonna be ready for Hugo to get here and start filming tomorrow.”
A quick glance to the set found Boyce looking down at Ivy. She sat on the side of the queen-sized bed with a white sheet wrapped around her body like a cocoon. Her male costar stood confidently beside her, wearing nothing but a goddamn piece of nude-colored material over his cock.
Literally, the man was just standing there with barely an inch of fabric covering his body, and he smiled like he was doing everyone on set a favor by showing off that much skin on and off camera.
“I’m having a hard time understanding this scene,” she responded. “It just feels out of place for what’s going on i
n the actual story. It feels like it got tossed in here at random without any real thought behind it. I know we’ve switched gears to highlight a romance element to Grace and Levi, but the way this scene is laid out, it honestly feels off to me.”
“Listen, honey.” Boyce ran a hand through his pepper-gray hair. “I’m not sure if you’re familiar with how movies are made, but we pay you to act out the script that we’ve provided, no more. Leave the writing to the writers and the producing—” He jerked a thumb at himself “—to the producers.”
Wow. What an asshole. I stepped forward but stopped myself before I did something stupid like walk onto the set and tell Boyce Williams to shove his condescending attitude up his ass.
He fucking deserved it, but it wasn’t my place and I didn’t want it to be.
Right?
Fuck, Levi. Focus.
My job was to stay amenable. Provide any information I could when asked, and otherwise, just sit back and watch Hollywood make a movie about my life, knowing I literally had no say in the matter.
“Please do not talk to me like that.” Ivy stared steadily at him from her spot on the bed. “I’m not trying to be a pain in the ass. I’m trying to make sure this movie is what it should be. And I’m telling you, Boyce, no matter what you think, this scene is out of place. It’s too fast for Grace and Levi. It feels rushed.”
I found her analysis surprisingly insightful. And surprisingly accurate.
Fuck.
He pursed his lips, his annoyance visible on every inch of his puckered-up face.
He’d been in a mood since the day started, and I silently wondered if this would be his breaking point. He was a man who didn’t like to be questioned. He gave the commands, and people followed. Period.
Ivy was throwing a big fucking wrench into that agenda.
“Let me worry about what this movie should or shouldn’t be, and you just act out the fucking script you’ve been given,” Boyce retorted. “And while we’re taking a break from getting work done, the point of this scene is to show an intimate progression with Levi and Grace and to provide some sex appeal to our viewers. We can’t do that when you’ve got yourself wrapped up in the goddamn sheets like a burrito. Less sheets, more skin, okay?”