by Cara Dee
She grudgingly changed into a top and a pair of pajama shorts, then got under the covers with several of her homecoming gifts. She'd never had an e-reader before because…well, because reading was for nerds. God, she'd been filled with more air than a blow-up doll.
Now she was looking forward to buying a bunch of books on topics she wanted to know more about. Such as being a good pet parent.
"Tennyson wants to see you when you're up to it," Daniel said, dropping a protein bar next to Sophie.
"Dude, again? I just ate before we left the hospital!" She wasn’t complaining—much—but jeesh. "Tell Tennyson he can visit me whenever he wants to." She tried not to sound too eager at that.
Daniel smirked. "Uh-huh."
"Shut up," she told him and bit into the protein bar. It wasn’t too bad. Maybe a little dry, but it had chocolate chips in it. That was a bonus.
"You know, if I were younger and more immature, I would've pressed you for details about you and Tennyson."
Sophie smiled wryly. "Thank fuck you're old and mature, then."
"Old?" He widened his eyes. "I'm thirty. That’s not old. Don’t give me a complex. Zane might trade me in."
"Whatever you say, Gramps."
Daniel narrowed his eyes at her. "If I'm old, what does that make Tennyson?"
"Thirty-eight," Sophie quipped, giggling.
"I give up." He threw up his hands and headed for the door. "I'll let Tennyson know you're desperate to see him."
"Don’t you dare!" she shrieked.
*
The knock on the door Sophie had been waiting for came an hour later when she was fighting off sleep. Setting her e-reader aside, she called out for him to come in, and Tennyson entered the trailer then poked his head into the bedroom part.
"How's the patient today?" he asked, walking farther in. His shades ended up on the nightstand.
"Better, thanks." She stifled a yawn and sat up. "What about you?"
He looked tired, so Sophie wondered if he'd worked too much.
"All good here." He moved a chair closer to the bed and sat down. "I've been blessed with countless phone conferences, one meeting with two producers who flew up here, and going through footage."
Sophie had a feeling Tennyson only liked the last one he'd mentioned.
"Oh—this is for you." He retrieved a small box from his pocket.
A gift? For me?
"You didn’t have to buy me anything, Tennyson." Sophie felt her cheeks coloring, which didn’t happen often, so she decided a joke was in order. Because she didn’t want Tennyson to know just how attached she was getting. "Proposing to me already?" She smirked. "It's only been two dates. Hollywood's gonna think you've knocked me up."
"Open the damn box, Sophie," he chuckled.
She grinned and gingerly opened the little box. Then the humor faded and gave way to something deeper when she saw a delicate silver necklace with a small feather pendant. In the past, she'd received diamonds and lavish handbags that salespeople had picked out. She wasn’t referred to as spoiled for no reason, but this…this had more meaning.
"It's beautiful," she murmured. "Thank you so much. Can you put it on me?" She kneeled up on her bed and extended the box to him.
Tennyson nodded with a dip of his chin and shifted closer. "Have you heard of Alfred Tennyson?"
"Lord," she said automatically, nodding as she held up her hair. Truth was, she'd only vaguely heard of the name before meeting Tennyson, but she'd seen a reference to the poet on his Wikipedia, so she'd looked into it. "You're named after him, right?"
"I am, yeah." Tennyson got quiet as he carefully clasped the necklace, and Sophie tried not to stare. They were so close—mere inches. "Poetry isn't really my thing, but this feather reminded me of a quote of his." He brushed a finger over the pendant before backing away.
She shivered. "Are you gonna tell me it?"
"If you want." Tennyson inclined his head. "It's short, and it goes, 'The shell must break before the bird can fly.' And maybe" —he smiled faintly— "maybe the bird will lose a feather or two in her quest to learn."
"Oh," she mouthed.
She traced the thin chain with her finger, processing the beautiful words. They fit her, didn’t they? Tennyson couldn’t possibly understand just how much she was trying to break free—or from whom—but he'd noticed the changes in her behavior. He knew she was…growing up.
"Thank you, Tennyson." Sophie acted on instinct and hugged him, which was a bad call. It made her want the hug to turn into kisses and lots and lots of sex. His arms circling her intensified that wish, so it was time to lighten the mood again. She broke the hug reluctantly and settled for a teasing smirk. "I thought you picked the feather because I'm light as one."
Tennyson laughed softly and sat down in the chair. "That’s certainly accurate for the moment, isn't it?" There was a pause as the humor faded, and he reached over and playfully tugged on a piece of her hair. "I should let you rest."
"No." She didn’t care that came out like half a whine. "You should stay. You could read gossip about us until I fall asleep."
She thought that was an excellent idea.
Tennyson appeared to think it was hilarious. "Is that your version of a bedtime story?"
Blah. Like I'm some kid. Or baby bird.
"No," she admitted. "It's my version of saying I'm tired but don’t wanna be alone because it's fucking boring."
He watched her silently for a moment, obviously debating.
"I can always blackmail you." She grinned to make light of it. "Like, call you Tenny or something."
Tennyson threw her a look. "I would end our Hollywood romance publicly if you did."
Sophie cracked up and scooted farther in. "Come on. Please take pity on me." She patted the empty spot next to her.
"Pity's not the problem," he muttered under his breath. Sophie thought for sure he was about to let her down gently, but then he stood up and came closer. "All right. Make room. But you do the reading if you want to go through those rags. I have no interest in it."
"They talk about you in Variety," she sang.
"I still don’t care," he mocked, amused. "Bed, young lady. Get some sleep. I can catch up on some real news instead." He leaned back against the headboard and brought out his phone. "Would you like me to read out loud about the latest in the Middle East?"
Sophie ignored his joke and snuggled as close as she dared. Tennyson smelled delicious, and if she weren’t careful, she'd freak him out and send him running.
It was a sobering thought; she really liked him, and it would be stupid to set herself up for…heartbreak? Shit, could it come to that? Ugh. Anyway, it'd be dumb to screw herself over by trying to get closer, but at the same time, she only had a few more weeks. A few more weeks and then she'd be returning to LA. She wouldn’t see Tennyson again until the premiere, unless they ended up doing press junkets together.
She had time to get over her little crush, right?
Letting out a breath, Sophie relaxed on her pillow, the duvet drawn up to her chin. Her forehead brushed against the leather of Tennyson's belt, and when she glanced up quickly, she saw he had his arm resting along the headboard. He yawned into his other fist but kept his eyes trained on whatever he was reading on his phone that rested on his thigh.
Sophie loved the sight. He looked comfortable and, to her, like he belonged there.
"You're not sleeping." Tennyson never looked her way, but his mouth twisted up slightly. "You need to rest, Sophie."
Wanting to keep the conversation going, she blurted out the first thing she could come up with. "Isn't the screen bothering your eyes?"
He hummed and sent her a soft smile. "Not yet. Now sleep."
Next question. "What're your thoughts on mac and cheese? Personally, I love it, which is totally weird because I usually don’t like cheese, but I miss it. I haven't had it since I was ten—"
"Sleep."
"Favorite holiday? Fourth of July's coming up, you know—"
"Hey." He shut her up by reaching down and placing a hand over her mouth. "Obey me."
Those two words shot straight to her core. Liquid heat pooled lower and lower, and Sophie couldn’t believe how fast he turned her on. It hit her like a wrecking ball, only she melted into a shivery mess instead of shattering.
He'd sucked the air out of her lungs, too.
"I-I…I…um." Her voice was muffled behind his hand, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t form anything coherent, anyway. Obey me. Holy shit.
Tennyson's gaze darkened, and he slowly moved his hand to cup her cheek. "Don’t speak." He brushed the pad of his thumb over her mouth. Sophie was trapped. And fucking horny. She had to clench her thighs together.
My God.
When she stupidly thought he was about to kiss her, her eyes fluttered closed. Then disappointment washed over her as she felt his lips along her hairline.
"Rest, Sophie."
She didn’t dare to open her eyes. He'd see too much if she did. How much she wanted him, how disappointed she was he didn’t kiss her.
It took a while before sleep found her.
Chapter 11
Tennyson was losing his goddamn mind, but he was too weak to stop it. When he wasn’t working, he was in Sophie's trailer. She'd rested for three days, and come tomorrow, he didn’t know what kind of excuse he'd use to spend more time with her.
She was mending. She was on a strict diet to slowly gain weight, and she didn’t need him to get her more magazines or help her fight boredom by talking about the most trivial things any longer.
"Oh my God, this is so good," Sophie moaned. "You've got to try this." Sitting up in her bed, she extended a spoonful of mac and cheese to him.
He'd brought it to her tonight, certain it wasn’t part of her diet, but screw that. For tonight, screw it.
"I have my own, you know." He grinned at her and opened his container of mac and cheese. "Which scene were you and Claire rehearsing?"
He'd arrived just in time to see Claire leave Sophie's trailer earlier, a script in hand.
"The one where I freak out on my parents," Sophie mumbled and stuck the spoon into her mouth. "Claire's amazing. Seriously, she's such an inspiration."
Tennyson nodded and absently pushed his fork around the mac. "She's a great actress." He furrowed his brows, wondering… To hell with it, it didn’t hurt to ask. "How would you describe me as a director?" He added the same thing he'd said to Noah, "I was told I'm not approachable anymore."
Sophie peered down at her food, a small smile playing on her lips. "Noah mentioned this to me yesterday. He brought me lunch and told me you were being different on set."
"Ah. Yeah. I've been trying to give more feedback."
"Well, I don’t have a whole lot to compare it to." Sophie shrugged slightly. "I mean, some of the directors I've worked with in the past have been nice and all, but…"
Tennyson smirked internally. She was trying not to be rude to those other directors.
"You do your thing during rehearsals," Sophie went on. "The first week we were up here, I was dizzy with all the instructions and expectations. Then you get more introspective or whatever during production, and actors who know what they're doing just follow what you said at rehearsals."
Tennyson mulled that over and then raised a brow. "Actors who know what they're doing?"
Sophie smiled guiltily. "I sorta forgot. That’s partly why I've been so nervous about that scene. I don’t know if you want a total breakdown with wailing and lots of gestures or something quieter. And Claire told me to just speak to you, but you're kind of intimidating." Tennyson opened his mouth to speak, but Sophie rushed to elaborate. "Not because of that unapproachable shit, but because you're the first big-time director I've worked with. I have so much depending on my performance, and I felt dumb to go ask you to repeat yourself."
Tennyson let her words sink in, and he had to admit he understood her. Up until recently, he'd questioned Sophie's being here, and now that he had an inkling of what she was planning, he could imagine what a brush-off would do to her. Not that Tennyson would've been outwardly hostile, but he probably wouldn’t have been understanding, either.
Sophie had unknowingly dropped enough hints for Tennyson to realize that she'd been undergoing a change in her life, and he was fairly certain that involved breaking free of her father. Which appeared to be leaving her with very little family. Yet, she kept fighting, even when it was clear so many didn’t have any faith in her.
"Noah and the script supervisor both have my notes from the rehearsals." He gave her knee a gentle squeeze. "I'll make sure one of them gives you a copy tomorrow morning."
Sophie breathed a sigh of relief and offered him a blinding smile. "Thank you so much."
"Don’t mention it." He sat back, feeling a little better now, and shoveled some food into his mouth.
The scene in question had been postponed too, so Sophie would have plenty of time to rehearse.
"Are those notes secret otherwise?" she asked curiously.
Tennyson tilted his head. "No, why?"
Sophie shrugged. "You could always make them available in the office. You have your directing style, and if that means you don’t talk much during production, so be it. It's not like you don’t give actors anything to go on ever. So if you have your notes with your vision printed before shooting begins, the actors can go back and study them whenever they want."
That was…that made sense. In fact, it was a brilliant idea, and he told Sophie as much.
The faint blush that spread across her cheeks was fucking lovely. Tennyson swallowed dryly, not sure how long he could take it before he crossed a line.
"Okay, I'm full." Sophie blew out a breath and placed a palm on her stomach. "I feel kinda guilty eating so much. Not like it's wrong, just…gluttonous."
"Didn’t the dietician tell you that was common?" Tennyson had made Daniel repeat every word so Tennyson knew what to expect.
"Yeah." Sophie set her container on the nightstand and then fell back against the mattress with a groan. "I'm so over this bed rest, Tennyson."
"It'll be over tomorrow," he comforted. "But speaking of work, I should go watch the dailies." He'd only done a small scene with Chris today, but he had to go through the footage from the second unit's pick-up shots and coverage from yesterday and the day before.
"Always leaving me." Sophie dramatically threw an arm over her face. "Just go. I can't even look at you. God have mercy on my fragile soul."
Tennyson laughed at her silliness, trying and failing at keeping his gaze averted from her exposed body. Her small sleeping shorts didn’t hide much, nor did the top that was twisted around her ribcage.
God should have mercy on his damn soul instead.
*
It was past midnight when Tennyson and a handful of others called it a day and left the trailer they used as their office.
It had started to rain pretty heavily, so everyone was itching to seek shelter.
"Steph, when do we start tomorrow?" Noah asked around a yawn.
She checked the call sheet. "Ten thirty. Chris and Claire have interviews in town first."
"Don’t forget to leave my notes with Sophie tomorrow morning," Tennyson said.
She nodded in understanding. "I'll make copies for the office, too."
"I'm gonna sleep for a month once we're done," Noah said before heading for his trailer. "Night, guys."
A few more goodnights were exchanged, and then the set around them was empty of activity. The rain came down harder as Tennyson reached his own trailer, and something made him pause.
It was dark, only a single streetlamp illuminating the nearest area, and Tennyson wondered if Sophie was still up. He could see the light was on in her trailer, but he remembered her telling him she couldn’t sleep in complete darkness.
Squinting up at the summer rain pouring down, Tennyson made a quick decision and pulled out his cell phone. He sent Sophie a short message.
He stood there and waited. His eyes never left the trailer three spots over. And when he caught movement in the shadows reflected on the pavement outside Sophie's trailer, an electric current buzzed within Tennyson.
Her door squeaked open, followed by Sophie's head poking out.
There was a cautious smile on her face. It widened as she stepped out fully, the door closing behind her, and she simply stood there with her eyes closed, smile widening, and face tilted up.
She still loved the rain.
She wasn’t going to lie and say it was "gross" and ruined her shoes. Or hair or makeup or goddamn manicure.
Christ, she was fucking beautiful.
Her skimpy pajamas were soaked in a minute, and she must've heard Tennyson's approach.
"Hey." She grinned and blinked past the rain drops. "Are you done for the day?"
Oh, Tennyson was done all right, but if he had a say, the day wasn’t over yet.
He'd lost his battle. Two weeks had passed since their first PR date, and he was gone.
"Is something wrong?" She looked at him in concern.
Tennyson shook his head and finally reached her. There was a moment of hesitation and panic—does she even want this?—but his body had taken over. He gently cupped her neck, his thumbs brushing away rain from her flushed cheeks. A hundred different emotions flitted across her features, and he searched her beautiful, widening eyes as he closed the distance and kissed her.
Sophie let out a small noise and then clutched Tennyson's sides tightly, yanking him closer and deepening the kiss. Desire hit Tennyson from every angle. The force nearly floored him, and something inside him snapped. At the first taste of Sophie, he groaned and slid his hands down her body.
Damn her. Damn her for breaking his resolve.
"Oh my God." Sophie whimpered and knotted her fingers in his hair. "Yes."
Driven by his need, Tennyson reached underneath the fabric of her shorts and cupped her ass. He kissed her aggressively, his tongue delving into her mouth, and Sophie returned the passion. Jesus Christ, he couldn’t get enough. Backing her up against the trailer, he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his hips.