Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(25)

“Liam . . . Oh, wow. Uh . . . you should stop.”

“Should I? Why? You seem to be enjoying it, and I’m sure as hell enjoying it.”

“The leading man can’t be seen massaging the stage manager. It’s wrong and unnatural.”

“Who can massage you, then?”

“No one. I’m unmassageable.”

“Hardly seems fair. You have one of the most stressful jobs here, but aren’t allowed a little help to unwind? Fuck that.”

He digs his thumbs into the base of my skull and my eyes roll back into my head. “Ohhhh . . . No, really. This is bad. Stage managers are strange creatures. We thrive on stress, caffeine, and lack of sleep. You can’t mess with that. Make us too relaxed and we fall apart.”

Warm breath and soft lips graze my ear as he whispers, “I’m looking forward to watching you fall apart one day very soon, Liss. Twenty-one days and counting, in fact. I have the closing-night party marked on my calendar.”

He pushes his thumbs into the muscles on either side of my spine, all the way down to the waistband of my jeans. When I bite back a groan, he chuckles. “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

“No, but you should.”

He sighs. “Fine. But first, stand up and come here. Your back is a mess.” I stand and turn to face him. He bends his knees and wraps his arms around me. “This will relieve the pressure on your vertebrae.” He lifts me off my feet and tightens his arms, and a rolling series of cracks travels up my spine. Almost instantly, I feel relief.

He sets me down, and I roll my shoulders. “Wow. That’s much better. Thank you.”

“Are you kidding me? I got to press my chest against your boobs. The pleasure was all mine.”

He smiles, and my face flushes. I don’t enjoy these involuntary reactions. Despite my best efforts to remain detached, he’s like a sexual lightning rod, and all my sparks gravitate toward him. It’s exhausting. I try to lean back, but the wall is right behind me.

He’s still standing close, staring at my lips. I’m also staring at his. They’re beautiful, and every time he kisses Juliet, it drives me insane. Not only because I get hot ashes of jealousy, but the way he holds her face and cradles her in his arms is incredibly passionate and sweet. And then there are those groany sounds he makes in the back of his throat when Romeo and Juliet have sex on their wedding night. Those tiny noises slay me. Every damn time.

I close my eyes and take a breath, and try to pull myself together. “Okay, so . . . I’m about to give the half-hour call.”

“I should go get ready.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He reaches over and gently cups my cheek. I don’t want to lean into it, but I do. “Here I go,” he says as he grazes his thumb over my lips. “Leaving.”

I can’t deal with the desire in his expression. It makes me so light-headed, I instinctively grip his T-shirt. “Your version of leaving is very . . . stationary.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to convince my hand to stop touching you, but it’s not listening. And don’t even get me started on what my lips are telling me to do.” He leans down, and I know I should push him away but I can’t. There’s not enough willpower in the world to stop this moment. “Did you know I dream about your mouth? How it feels. And tastes. Every time I see you, the urge to kiss you is so damn strong, it hurts to deny it. Tell me you feel the same.”

His mouth is right there. All I’d have to do is stand on my toes and I could have it. Put us both out of our misery. “Of course I feel the same, but—”

He cuts me off by grazing his thumb over my lips again. “Less talking. More kissing me.”

I’m holding my breath in anticipation of his mouth meeting mine when a burst of laughter makes us both pull back. The actors playing Juliet’s parents pass by without a glance in our direction, but the close call reminds me where we are. And who we are.

Liam stares at me for a few more bone-melting moments, then stalks off toward his dressing room without another word.

I slump down onto my stool and pull on my headset. After a few deep breaths to calm myself, I click the button on the microphone in front of me.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Romeo and Juliet company, this is your half-hour call. Thirty minutes until places for Act One. Thank you.” It’s only when I click off that I realize how stupidly breathy my voice sounded.

At least I don’t have a headache anymore. Nope. Now, the ache is a whole lot lower.

“Elissa.” I look up to see my brother striding toward me. He’s holding up one of his headshots. Someone has defaced it with devil horns and a goatee that looks vaguely like a penis. “Was this you?”

“Ethan, please. Do you honestly think I’d produce such crude work? That penis-beard doesn’t even have veins. It was probably Olivia.”

Ethan has been pseudo-dating our Juliet, and as usual, he’s screwed things up as only Ethan can.

He looks briefly at the photo. “Huh. Olivia did seem pissed when I saw her earlier.”

“What did you do this time?”

“Nothing.” I shoot him a look, but he holds up his hands. “I mean it. I’ve barely spoken to her since last week.”

I roll my eyes. If my brother were any more clueless about women, he’d be a conservative politician.