Текст книги "Love Unrehearsed"

Автор книги: Tina Reber

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

I nudged him softly with my elbow. “This isn’t a job. It’s a quick favor for Jonathan. So, are you ready?

Know your lines?”

Ryan nodded. “Yes, I know my lines. I presume you know them, too.”

As if he had to ask. “I’ve been given my own official copy.”

“Of course,” he teased. “Jonathan make you an assistant director yet?”

I nudged his stomach lightly for picking on me. “No. Denny has, though. They put me in charge of kicking your ass when you get out of line.”

Ryan smirked, sparked by my challenge. He bumped me, knocking me off balance, but I quickly recovered and bumped him right back. His long fingers cinched around my upper arms as he glared down at me, his eyes half-lidded and challenging. “You think you’re tough enough?”

I swallowed hard, turned on by his show of dominance. “Absolutely. I know all of your weaknesses.”

His eyes darkened and he took my neck in a gentle but possessive clutch, instantly igniting a warmth inside me. “Yeah?” he growled, biting his lower lip, daring me to defy him. “You think? Little do you know, you’re my greatest weakness. But don’t get any ideas. Remember, I’ve had my hands and mouth on every inch of your body. I know how to take you down—quickly.”

Oh how I wished we were somewhere private where he could make good on his threat.

“Promise?” I whispered, drawn to watching his lips twitch, thrilled that we had this effect on each other.

“As soon as I’m done here, I’m going to prove it to you,” he breathed out.

Was that a simple statement or a vow?

“I look forward to it,” I replied, feeling stunned and out of breath.

“I’m so hard right now,” he told me, toggling his gaze between my lips and my eyes.

One quick glance at his crotch and I could see he was being truthful.

“I wish I could fix that for you.” Thoughts of using my hand, my mouth, rendering him helpless and moaning, danced in my mind. “But I think you’re going to have to hold that thought.” I tossed my chin in Denny’s direction.

Ryan breathed out a curse and turned his frame slightly, readjusting the erection in his pants as nonchalantly as possible. It was hard not to laugh at his predicament.

“Stop it,” he groaned.

“Apparently wake-up sex wasn’t enough for you?” I teased.

He glared down at me in utter exasperation. “Four or five times a day might be enough for me. Keep that in mind, future wife of mine.”

A giggle erupted from my mouth. “As much as I’d like to take you up on your challenge, right now I think we need to get you refocused. So . . . Chase. What did the police say?”

Ryan groaned. “Taryn, I know my lines.”

“Okay.” No need to warn me twice. I turned my attention to watching crew members setting up a very large screen several yards away. Where are they going to put that huge green screen now? That looks like a pain to move.

Ryan sighed. “Nothing. They don’t have any new leads.”

I glanced back at him. “Hmm?”

“My lines? My next line is ‘Nothing. They don’t have any new leads.’”

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

Watching Ryan’s new set assistant try to figure out which pocket to shove her walkie-talkie in while tripping over power cords was quite entertaining. She looks young and upset about something. The shimmery blue streak of color in her black hair is kinda cool.

Ryan cleared his throat. “I hate when you pretend to ignore me. Well? Are we going to do this or not?”

The sudden bad feeling about this not being a good idea hit me. “I’m not ignoring you. Maybe you should rehearse with Nicole. I don’t want to upset anything.”

Ryan didn’t agree. “We have ten minutes and she’s still in makeup. Do you have a copy of the sides?”

I pulled my copy of the scene dialogue from my back pocket.

“You’re standing on her mark. Ready?”

“Sure.” I took two pretend steps to land on the X. “Chase, what did the police say?”

“Nothing. They don’t have any new leads. Reed won’t turn over my dad’s client list without a court order. I sort—”

“Wait . . . is that how you are going to do it for real?” Even though he recited from memory, he rushed and stumbled through it.

Ryan’s eyes narrowed on me. “Yeah, I guess. Why? What was wrong with it?”

“Are you just telling me your lines or are we doing this full-on like we normally do when we run lines at home?”

He crossed his arms, taking a defensive pose.

“Don’t get mad,” I said. “You just . . . I don’t know. You just sort of barked your lines at me. I thought Chase is supposed to be frustrated and more depressed. Well, that’s how I interpreted it anyway.”

“Sorry, you got me a bit distracted. I’m horny and I’m pissed that I can’t do anything about it right now.”

“Margaret Thatcher in a thong.” My attempt to redirect him with Austin Powers movie humor wasn’t well received.

He gave me “the glare.” I knew that glare very well.

“Tell you what. If you promise to nail this scene, I promise I’ll let you nail me in your trailer right afterward. How does that sound?”

That got him to smile. “Bribery, Ms. Mitchell? And what’s this garbage that you’ll let me . . .”

“Uh-uh. That’s the deal. You have to make sacrifices for your craft.”

He groaned.

“Multimillion-dollar actor, big mega-million movie? Ringing any bells?”

His jaw clenched. “I’m going to nail you hard later, just so you know. It may hurt, too. Make your teeth rattle.”

I planted a foot, loving his feistiness. “You nail this scene in the first two takes and I’ll add in a bonus prize.”

His eyebrows rose, intrigued.

“But first you have to act your butt off.”

“You drive a hard bargain. All right, shit. Let’s try it again.” Ryan shook out his arms. “Ready?”

I took a deep breath, pulling myself into that mind-set I do when we practice in private, and recited my lines again.

Ryan pretended to glance back at the building, rubbing his stomach where the bullets from earlier in the story had supposedly entered his body, and hunching from imaginary pain. “They brought one of my dad’s associates in for questioning, but it didn’t turn up any new leads.”

“Did you tell them about the van that followed you the other day?”

Ryan’s lips pressed tightly together and he shook his head.

“What about the address you found on your dad’s cell?”

“No,” he answered abruptly, looking away. “I didn’t bother.”

“Why not?” I said, demanding an answer. If someone killed my pretend parents, I’d be hounding the police for every minuscule detail.

Ryan turned his gaze back to me, giving me that “I really have no valid excuse so I’m just going to stand here and huff at you for a few seconds” look. “Because . . . I went there and it’s nothing, another dead end. Apparently I’m just wasting my time. Chasing ghosts,” he mumbled.

Ryan appeared to be genuinely sad. I remembered this part of the script very well, for this was Chase and Emily’s first fight, out on the sidewalk in front of the police station.

I disagreed, imploring him to give more information. “What about the bullet casing? Surely they have some results—”

“They have nothing, Em. Nothing!” Ryan said harshly. “Just forget about it, all right? No prints. No leads. Nothing. So just drop it! I’m done.”

I pushed on, lightly grabbing his arm when he turned. “So that’s it? Just like that, you’re going to give up?”

Ryan glared at me. “What do you want me to do? Go back in there and force them to do their job? It’s not that simple.”

“But . . .”

“But nothing!” Ryan’s hand sliced the air, halting my reply. “Detective Bennett told me to stay out of it. I’m not supposed to be alive, Emily! Remember? Whoever broke into my house and put eight bullets in my family intended for me to die that day, too. There weren’t supposed to be witnesses.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I should have,” Ryan snapped back, letting the role of Chase completely take over his emotions. It was a beautiful thing to witness, and I was so there with him. God. Losing both of your parents. I knew exactly how that felt.

“Is that what you want? To waste the precious gift you were given by wishing you were dead? Is that why you pulled that ridiculous stunt trying to free-climb that crack out on Viper’s Pass, figuring if bullets didn’t do the job that free-falling three hundred feet would?”

Ryan groaned incredulously, like my words stung.

“Look at me. Don’t you dare do this to yourself. Do you think Megan would give up if she were here?”

Ryan’s head snapped back. “Leave my sister out of this,” he growled.

“I can’t. Not when you wake up every night freaking out that you couldn’t save her. Not when you see her ghost drifting through walls and ceilings everywhere you go. Chase . . .” I grasped his jacket in both of my hands. “She wants you to find peace just as much as I do.”

Ryan knocked my hands free.

“Just go. Go home.” He nodded his chin, telling me to take a hike.

“Chase . . . no,” I said stubbornly, snagging his jacket again. “I’m just trying to help. I . . . I didn’t mean to make you upset. Please . . .”

“Let. Go,” he ordered, glaring at the hold I had on him.

I felt my teeth lock in place. “No. I will never let go. I will not stand off to the side and watch you destroy yourself.”

“You can’t keep saving me, Em. You can’t.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

Ryan’s face twisted with anguish, feeling pain that was only pretend.

“Don’t push me away, too,” I said softly. “I need you just as much as you need me.”

Ryan scoffed, shaking his head back and forth. “My mind is becoming unhinged and yet you still want me to be this, this guy . . . this guy I just can’t be for you.”

I gazed at the fabric bunched in my hand and then up into his eyes, knowing that Ryan Christensen and some poor scripted guy named Chase Sheffield would always be more than enough for me. “I’ve never asked you to be anything more than who you are. If the police won’t help us, we’ll find someone else who will.”

Ryan nodded and then slowly wrapped his arms over my shoulders, pulling me in. My hands automatically slid underneath his jacket and up his muscular back; I nuzzled my cheek on his warm chest. For a moment, I forgot we were standing here rehearsing, just like we did all those times in the apartment when I ran lines with him.

Ryan blew out a relieving gust and whispered in my ear. “Satisfied?”

I couldn’t stifle my smile. I laughed lightly and gave the flesh on his back a light rub.

“That was really good!” he continued privately. “I cannot believe you remembered all those lines. You really nailed it. Sure you don’t want to be an actress?”

When I opened my eyes, I noticed Jonathan standing near the camera that was pointed directly at us, pressing the headphones to his ear. Next to him stood Nicole Devin, dressed for the scene, looking glassy-eyed and angry. I didn’t need to be a mind reader to interpret her opinion about what she had apparently just witnessed. Her slightly raised arms slapped down on her thighs.

“Oh shit,” I breathed out.

Nicole stormed over to us. I squeezed the back of Ryan’s shirt into a ball in my fist.

“What’s going on?” she asked, volleying her slightly angered glare from my face to his, sniffing from her head cold.

Ryan repositioned himself between us, pushing me behind him. “What do you mean? I’m just running through my lines one more time. Taryn’s my coach. Why? What do you think is going on?”

“Oh,” Nicole said, her face dropping. “I thought. Never mind. I’m here now.”

I unclenched Ryan’s shirt; now was as good a time as any to get the hell out of here before I caused permanent damage. “Ryan, I’m going to see if Jonathan still needs me.”

Nicole crossed her arms. “Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.”

My feet that were so ready to flee ground down to a halt. “I was helping him. There’s no need to assume anything else. I would never . . .”

Nicole cracked a little smile, then broke into a sniffing fit. Some of Thomas’s old friends used to have the same sniffing habit. It made me wonder.

“No, no. Believe me—I’m not. It’s okay,” she finally said nicely. “I think they’re almost ready.”

Instead of meeting her gaze, my eyes locked on to the strange dark shadow on her upper lip. I was just about to walk away when I noticed the drop of crimson fluid drip out from her nostril. It pooled at the edge of her lip before dripping down to the ground, missing her foot by an inch.

“Nicole, your nose is bleeding.” I was surprised she didn’t feel that trickle on her skin.

Her hand flew up to her face. Shaky fingers confirmed the blood. We watched as she ran off in the direction of the trailers.

While Ryan did some walk-through rehearsals, I found a quiet place to work in the wardrobe tent, where the Wi-Fi was the strongest. After all, I still had a business to run. Even though I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him in his element, joking with the crew, being lighthearted and having the time of his life, I also knew I was a distraction.

Marie was being really understanding about my long absence, but my guilty conscience wracked me every day, knowing I was strapping her with my obligations. Fortunately, paying bills and ordering stock were things I could do anywhere.

I thought about returning some phone calls but I really didn’t want to hear Thomas’s voice again. Not right now.

Dina, the woman in charge of wardrobe, took me under her wing like a warm mother hen. She cleared off a small wooden table in the corner for me to have some workspace while I secretly listened to her and her assistant, Darius, gossiping about the rest of the film crew.

Dina peered at me over the top of her narrow glasses, giving me a slightly disapproving look. “I’m surprised you don’t want to be out there watching Mr. Christensen film. Surely that’s a lot more interesting than hanging with us.”

I shook my head. “Actually there’s more action in here than out there. I find that you two are quite entertaining.” I smiled.

“Mmhmm.” Darius scowled. “If I were you, I wouldn’t let that delicious slice of man out of my sight.”

“Darius!” Dina shrieked.

Darius was young and sort of reminded me of Jet Li, but the drama queen version with two-toned black and white hair. He made me laugh.

“What? You know I speak the truth. That boy is fine. Damn, I should have been an actress.” Darius sighed. “If I were you, peaches, I’d keep an eye on that Nicole girl. I’d cut her forty ways to Sunday if that was my man,” he joked, waving a pair of long fabric shears. “Let her know. You keep back, beyotch,” he mumbled to himself.

Dina laughed at him. “Someone sure sounds jealous.”

Darius just rolled his eyes. “Girl, paleeze. If I had a boyfriend like that, there is no way I’d let some ho be all up on him. Then again, one taste of these lips and he’d never go back.”

Visualizing Ryan’s reaction to Darius’s claim was equally entertaining.

“Ah, I don’t think Taryn has to worry about Nicole. Ryan Christensen isn’t her type,” Dina said with a wink, pinning the hem on a pair of pants. After that comment, she now had my total attention.

Darius’s face puckered. “Whaaat? Honey—gay, straight, that man is everyone’s type.”

I smirked at Darius.

“Not if you prefer women over men, he isn’t,” Dina muttered.

My head shot up.

Darius looked surprised. “Dee, I didn’t know you were a homegirl!”

“What? No, not me . . . Nicole,” Dina corrected. “Rumor has it that she prefers the company of women.”

“Oh no you did not just out her,” Darius squealed.

Something inside of me suddenly wanted to cheer, finding this new information to be most comforting.

I needed more.

Dina removed the straight pin tucked between her lips and shrugged. “That’s the rumor going around.”

Dina’s walkie-talkie screeched. She pulled the radio from her hip holster.

“Is Ms. Mitchell with you?” the voice asked.

Dina held the radio to her mouth. “Yes she is.”

A few moments later, a young man wearing khaki pants and a green hoodie whisked me away on a golf cart. I was paired up with Ryan’s standin for another lighting check. I was told that Nicole’s standin had completely succumbed to the stomach flu, but I still questioned Jonathan’s true motives for selecting me as her replacement. Regardless, it didn’t matter; I was having a ton of fun being with Ryan.

The following morning we drove into an industrial part of the city that was not at all located where I thought he would be filming today. The building we pulled up to was long and squat, with security fencing surrounding the parking lot.

Ryan’s fingers were woven with mine but I could tell his mind was elsewhere. I knew what was on the shooting schedule today and he was so distant and quiet, he was practically mute.

Mike escorted us quickly from the car, leading us to one of the camper trailers parked nearby.

I set my laptop bag and purse down and sat at the small dinette, dreading this day worse than open-heart surgery without sedatives. It was time to break our comfortable silence.

“I don’t know how this usually works. Do you want me to wait in here today? I will if you’re going to be uncomfortable.”

Ryan stood there, staring at me.

I stared back, waiting for his decision. “Just be honest.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, eyeing everything but me for the moment. “I want you there and then a part of me doesn’t. It’s a closed set but . . . Think you can handle it?”

My first instinct was to scream “no” very loudly. Images of him executing the dreaded scene were flashing through my thoughts. What was I supposed to say? Oh yeah, no problem. I can’t wait to see you making pretend love to Nicole. It’s been on my to-do list, actually. Fortunately I reined in my self-preservationist sarcastic thoughts.

He pulled a can of soda out of the small refrigerator and popped the tab open for me. “Gauging by your lack of immediate response, I think you need to be there. This—stuff—is all a part of acting, Taryn, and maybe if you see that it’s nothing more than choreographed pretending, then maybe . . .” His eyes locked on mine. “I just . . . I just don’t want what happened in Florida to ever repeat itself.”

“Ryan . . .” My gut twisted. Memories of standing in a downpour watching what I thought was him cheating on me with Lauren Delaney when in fact he was filming were so vivid I swear I could feel a drop of rain trickle down my spine.

Ryan sat down and took my hand in his. “You had another one of your nightmares this morning and I think I know why. We’ve talked about this already. You’re my soul mate, Tar. Maybe if you see all of the preparations that go into filming a scene like this and all of the people standing around watching us, you’ll know it has nothing to do with sex. It’s just an uncomfortable illusion.”

I swallowed some of my doubt, trying not to have any of it fly out of my mouth, knowing that the black-haired boy with bloodied teeth was the cause of me waking up on a gasp. “I know it’s fake. It’s not like you’re going to go over there and actually do it with her.”

“That’s right. I’m not. It’s all pretend. You know that this is my job and scenes like this are going to be in my movies. I just don’t want you to end up hating me because I have to fake it with other women.”

If only faking it didn’t include actual skin-to-skin contact. We locked eyes. “Truthfully, I don’t know what to expect and I’m a little scared. I can’t help it.”

His eyes softened. His fingers caressed my wrist. “Okay, let’s talk about it. What are you scared of?”

“This is all new to me. I’m not accustomed to the idea of having the person I’m involved with do that sort of stuff with someone else in front of me. And things are good with us now but what if we’re having a rough patch and then you and someone else and the temptation and kissing . . .”

His hand covered mine, softly stroking his thumb over my knuckles. “I won’t be tempted. Trust me.”

On some level I believed him. I’d observed him long enough to know that Ryan never, ever looked at other women, even when they were standing on top of him.

“It’s one of my biggest fears.”

He straightened my engagement ring. “I know. But keep in mind that I’ve already kissed my fair share and now I’ve found the only woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

His playful smile helped me relax.

“Okay.” I grinned.

“So you’re not going to get jealous when I have to kiss someone else?”

I chuckled with uncertainty. “I can’t promise that. My jealousy comes from being madly in love with you. As long as it only happens when the cameras are rolling, I’ll be okay. It’s just . . . I need you to understand if I can’t handle it right away. I mean, I’ve seen you kiss Suzanne and—”

“Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up. I want to show you something.”

I slid out of the booth.

Ryan gripped my hips, pulling me closer. “I want to show you the difference between a movie kiss and a real kiss.”

“There’s a difference?”

He nodded. “Oh yeah.” His warm hands lifted my face, his eyes focused on my mouth. “This is a movie kiss. Ready?”

I felt his closed lips touch mine as if he were only kissing me to be kind. When his mouth opened, I followed him. Kissing him like this was kind of weird and actually rather frustrating, like we were doing an unfamiliar dance or an awkward first-date kiss when you were really trying to avoid kissing the guy.

“Uh-uh. No tongue,” he corrected.

“No tongue?” I repeated into his opened mouth.

“Never.” Ryan pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “Now this is how I kiss my fiancée.”

His hand slid into my hair, cradling the back of my head. His kiss consumed me. Desire to suck and chew on his hypnotic mouth had me making little whimpering noises. The moment his tongue brushed and swirled with mine, I felt tingles all the way down to my panties.

“I know you love me,” I murmured, drifting my hands into the back of his pants, underneath the elastic band, and over his amazing sculpted ass, “but it’s going to kill me to see you make love to someone else.”

I felt him tense ever so briefly. “I will never make love to someone else, Tar. Only you,” he purred, his tongue quite preoccupied swirling with mine.

I pushed his pants down low on his hips and scraped my teeth over his bottom lip. “Promise?”

He snickered in my mouth. “It was in the fine print when you agreed to marry me, sweetheart.”

Ryan lifted my ID set badge, separating our kiss long enough to remove it over my head. With a devilish grin, his fingers curled under the front of my T-shirt, pulling it up so it was over my head but still wrapped around my upper arms, cinching them back. “And our contract will be binding.”

He swirled a fingertip under the edge of my lace bra and tugged one side down, seeking out an already aroused nipple with his wet tongue. Fire shot through my body.

“Ryan . . .” I gulped hard from the sensation of his careful attention to both of my breasts. It was difficult to speak.

“Bed,” he breathed his desire, towing me in a rush down the short, narrow hallway.

It took him slightly longer to undress, fumbling to toe off his shoes while stripping off his pants, so I crawled onto the bed and waited. Considering we only had twenty minutes, I had expected he’d want to skip all the foreplay and jump right into it, so it surprised me a little when he took his good old time.

It was so sensual, him kissing me like this, allowing me to pant in his mouth as if he needed my sighs to breathe. He drew my bottom lip into his mouth, grazing it through his teeth, cradling me in his arm while his thigh had my leg pinned. I was so aroused by his touch, fingers gliding with deliberate effort while the heel of his hand applied just the right amount of pressure. His thumb danced in a firm circle, then heel, then thumb again. I wanted to explode then and there.

God, if he actually had to go film a real scene like this with Nicole I’d have to fucking kill her with my bare hands first. For a split second I actually envisioned doing that. There would be no way in hell I’d ever allow another woman to feel his expert touch.

I could hear my own moans getting louder, more breathless, as I writhed with each slip. I was just about there, seconds away from spilling over the edge, when he withdrew his fingers and stopped. What?

Nooooo! I mentally cursed him for not finishing me off first. And I was so close, too.

But instead, Ryan grabbed my thigh and shifted my hip so I was on my side, his chest warming my back, replacing the void with something much longer, thicker. I reached back, running my hand into his hair, feeling his groans, his breath on my neck as he pressed tenderly, allowing my body to adjust around him.

“Oh God you feel good.” His forearm squeezed my rib cage and his hand palmed my breast, stroking into me with renewed force, returning me dangerously close to that edge again.

His left hand twined with mine, unifying us as one as he made love to me. Just when I thought he would slip out and roll me somewhere else on the bed, he pressed back in. Slowly, methodically, from tip to total; over and over again, driving me crazy.

His moistened fingers returned and splayed me open, rolling swirls over my sensitive skin with each thrust.

As he picked up the pace, I held the breath in my lungs, unable to breathe at any normal rate, feeling the intense sensations of my orgasm rolling to a peak.

“That’s it. Let it go. Come on baby . . .”

I was giving myself a headache from squeezing my eyes so hard, feeling the crescendo of orgasm. His deep thrusts were unrelenting, pounding into me over and over again. I cried out from the sensations breaking over me in waves, practically choking myself as they hit. I coughed out onto the comforter as I

buried my face into the bed.

Ryan’s presses slowed; his fingers continued to rub, milking additional shudders out of me.

“Ah . . . good one,” he crooned softly, proudly, still swirling gently inside of me. He kissed my shoulder softly.

I turned back to him, receiving a long kiss before he slipped out and relocated my body to the edge of the bed.

“You have no idea how incredibly beautiful you look right now,” Ryan growled. His hands gripped my legs below the crease of my knees, pressing my thighs back, staring down at me with both admiration and lust. He rocked my legs, lifting my rear and raking my insides at different glorifying angles.

But the clock on the wall told another story, one of him being out of time. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone rapped loudly on the outside door. I watched the pleasure on his face harden as he slammed into me with more vigor.

“Hang on!” Ryan yelled out over his shoulder. “Son of a . . . I just need five more minutes,” he breathed out, pumping harder. His hands hit the mattress, pressing my thighs back as far as they could go, practically bending me in half to climb up inside of me. A light sweat beaded on his forehead. “Can you go again?” he asked, breathing hard, clasping one hand around my ankle.

I couldn’t believe his question! We were in the midst of filming a multimillion-dollar movie, someone was banging their fist on his trailer door to escort him to set, and his greatest concern was whether I could achieve another orgasm? God love the man for trying.

I pushed his hand away and flipped over onto my knees. “Don’t worry about me. It’s your turn.”

Ryan’s voice cracked and pitched when he yelled again, “Give me five minutes!” over his shoulder toward the door. His hands palmed my rear, digging fingertips into my flesh. I squeezed down on him with everything I had left, tightening my grip like a vise. Just as I started touching myself, Ryan moved my hand out of the way, replacing it with his own.

“That’s mine,” he growled, rubbing me with demanding ownership, bringing a second orgasm on like wildfire. My body bucked and shook while he continued to punish me with each thrust. His soft whimpers and grunts turned into one deep, guttural groan as his body released and stuttered everything he had into me.

Even behind Mike’s dark sunglasses and stoic face, I could still see the hint of guy smugness on his lips as he walked us to makeup. He didn’t need to utter a word to Ryan to congratulate him on getting laid mid-afternoon; the hard pat on Ryan’s shoulder spoke volumes.

Ryan chose this time to tease me, casually drifting his fingers under his nose as if he still wore my scent. I chuckled at our private joke when he licked his finger and raised his brows, savoring a phantom taste of me.

One of the male makeup artists, a slightly pudgy and excessively hairy man we had been introduced to before by the name of Buckley, was busy fashioning a “cup,” for lack of a better word, over Ryan’s exposed privates.

“It’s called a merkin.” Ryan answered my questioning gaze, pressing the sides of the cup into his skin to assure its adhesion.

I envisioned him popping that thing off like a tent way too small for its support pole. The adhesive would surely, painfully rip a few hairs from his skin. Ouch.

Nicole might get to touch his body intimately, but there was one flesh-toned package she’d never get to see—lesbian or not. Unfortunately, his nudity meant that those totally sexy muscular indentations in his incredible ass might get some screen time. That would definitely cause a few million “Charles Conroy” fans to blow a gasket for sure. Even more hype for Seaside III, which wouldn’t start filming until the fall.

Ryan turned to face me with his fists on his hips, looking like a life-sized, naked Ken doll with obscured genitalia. “So, what do you think?”

He was so adorable, smirkin’ in his merkin.

“And it’s not even my birthday!” I laughed. “I’m wondering how painful it will be when you have to take that thing off.”

“Just like a Band-Aid,” Buckley mumbled. “Grit and pull.”

Ryan blew out a tense breath and slipped a gray flannel robe on, tying the belt securely like a boxer headed for a fight.

It was time for him to go pretend with another woman below him and I was going to watch.