Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(50)

“I want to see Cal and Arizona get lost in the moment. Just play around with each other in bed, and let the moment take you wherever it goes until I call cut.”

And just like that, I’m back inside my body, acutely aware of all of my senses.

The pounding rhythm in my rib cage.

The tightness in my lungs.

The tingling nerves in my fingers and toes.

And the fact that Andrew Watson and his hot movie-star bod and big ole penis bulge are intimately close to me.

Gah.

“Can you do that, Birdie?” Howie asks.

I want to say hell no, but obviously, that’s not an option.

“Of…course. Of course, I can. No problemo,” I stutter and ramble like a moron.

I force a deep inhale of oxygen into my lungs and try to quell the trembling nerves that are apparently trying to consume my entire freaking body.

Just relax. You’re almost done with this scene, I coach myself. You can do this.

But my little mental pep talk doesn’t do shit.

All racing heart and tingly stomach and numb fingers, I’m still a mess on the inside.

Heaven help me, why can’t I go back to the whole out-of-body thing? That was working just fine before!

“You good?” Andrew asks me, and I look over to meet his eyes.

“All good in the hood.”

All good in the hood? What the hell am I even saying?

“Hey,” Andrew whispers, and his voice is surprisingly devoid of his normal sarcasm and teasing bullshit.

“What?” I whisper back, but the word comes out a little harsher than I intend.

He ignores it, though, and reaches out to gently touch my hand with his. “This is always nerve-racking as hell, and it’s okay to be nervous. You’d have to be a cyborg not to have some nerves right now.”

Wait…what? Did he just say something nice?

If my jaw is touching my freaking bare stomach, I wouldn’t be surprised.

“I know you hate taking any advice from me,” he continues with a soft smile, “but can I suggest something that will help?”

I nod. A little too quickly, to be honest, but you try sitting around with your boobs and butt nearly visible for everyone to see and not be willing to take any scraps of hope you can get.

“Lie back on the bed, shut your eyes, and when Howie yells action, just let me ease us both into the scene.”

I furrow my brow.

“Birdie, just trust me on this.”

“Trust you?” I question and furrow my brow even further. “You want me to trust you?”

He grins at that. “Look, I know I can be a bit of an asshole—”

“A bit?”

“Okay, a total asshole, but I would never use a vulnerable moment like this to screw with you.”

“Promise?”

He nods. “You have my word.”

I search his eyes for a long moment, and when I don’t discern any red flags in the serene depths of his ocean-colored eyes, I acquiesce.

“Okay,” I whisper and lie back on the bed so that my head is pressed into the pillow. “I’ll trust you. But I swear to God, if you’re screwing with me, I will cut your balls off.”

A soft, discreet chuckle escapes his lips. “Understood.”

“Everyone, quiet on set! Scene 33, Take 40!”

“Action!” Howie yells.

Oh God, here goes nothing…

On one last deep, cleansing breath, I shut my eyes, and I just lie there and wait for Andrew to guide me, guide us, into this scene.

My heart pounds against my rib cage. Nerves prickle at my exposed skin.

And it feels like an eternity before anything happens.

But eventually, it does.

Lips press against my stomach, and the muscles of my belly jump slightly as a quiet squeal pops from my throat. But the lips don’t pause; they pull away.

Instead, they kiss a gentle path up my belly, between my breasts, across my collarbone; every small press feels like a feather tickling my skin. And those lips don’t stop until they’ve created a path from my collarbone up my neck across my cheek and stay hovering over my mouth.

One brush, two brushes, three brushes, the lips move across mine until the sensation is so tempting that I find myself opening my mouth and reaching up to return the favor.

My lips to his, we kiss, slow and gentle at first, until the sensation builds to push the kiss further. Hands slide up my sides, and I can’t stop myself from opening my eyes and exploring the skin that’s touching mine.

With my gaze and my touch, I take in the firm biceps and the defined belly and tempting V. I tickle my fingers across tanned, smooth skin and just let myself be mesmerized by the beauty that is this man’s body.

Good God, his body. It’s Adonis on freaking steroids.

Before I know it, his fingers are in my hair and his blue eyes are staring into mine, and the urge to kiss him again becomes too strong to deny.

So, I do.

I press my mouth to his, and I wrap my legs around his waist and pull his hips closer to mine. And I just let myself feel good.

Because fuck, does it feels good.

This big, strong man against me, kissing me, touching me, it feels so damn good.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this, whatever the hell this even is.

The kiss gets deeper, and my hips rock up into his and I can feel him, right there, right against me, and a little moan escapes my throat and vibrates against his mouth.