Bad Romeo (18 page)

He stands and offers me his hand. “Still up to going out tonight?”

I’d almost forgotten about our talk-date. “Do we have to?”

“Yeah, we really do.”

“Can I at least have lots of alcohol?”

“Sure,” he says as he pulls me to my feet. “I’m buying.”

“Good. Then I’ll order the expensive stuff.”

Six Years Earlier
Westchester, New York
The Grove

I arrive at rehearsal and do a few warm-up exercises, intent on chilling out and having a good day.

I’m doing some yoga stretches when Holt walks in. He dumps his bag in a seat in the second row and flops down next to it, before putting his feet up on the chair in front of him and closing his eyes. I can see his lips moving, probably running his lines.

The tension between has reached awkward levels since the kiss. We show up to rehearsals, say our lines, act like we’re in love, kiss passionately. Then, when rehearsal finishes and we have the opportunity to talk? Nothing. We’re too weirded out to have a conversation. It’s driving me crazy.

It doesn’t help that when he kisses me, I get so damned turned on I can barely breathe. I’ve spent the last three days in a state of totally debilitating arousal, and today we have to block Romeo and Juliet’s sex scene.

Frick.

I refuse to be one of those girls who makes a fool out of herself for a man. If Holt’s determined to ignore whatever is happening between us, I will, too. I don’t need him.

Well, I kind of need him to give me an orgasm, but apart from that, he’s just a guy.

A guy with whom I’m going to have to simulate sex for the next seven hours.

Fluff my life.

Erika appears onstage and gestures for us to join her. For the purpose of rehearsal, our “bed” is simply a black rostrum covered in a sheet.

So romantic.

“Okay,” Erika says. “The marriage night scene is historically controversial because of its graphic content, so we’re going to aim for something realistic but tasteful, okay?”

Holt and I nod, but I’m not sure what she means. I’m not well acquainted with real sex, let alone the fake kind.

“Now, because we’re a drama school, we need to be seen as taking certain risks. So for that reason, I’d like to create the illusion of nudity.”

I’m pretty sure the look of terror on Holt’s face is mirrored on mine.

“Don’t panic.” Erika laughs. “You won’t
be
naked. You’ll just look like you are.” She reaches into a bag at her feet and pulls out what looks like underwear.

“Miss Taylor, you’ll wear this beneath your costume.” She holds up a flesh-colored leotard. “And Mr. Holt, you’ll wear these.” I smirk as she reveals flesh-toned boxer-briefs. “Now, I understand that you may be a little hesitant about this, but believe me, they’re quite modest. You’d reveal more of your bodies going to the beach.”

“I usually wear board shorts,” Holt mumbles.

“I wear jeans and a hoodie.”

Erika and Holt turn to me.

“I come from Washington state. Our beaches are freezing.”

Erika pulls out a white T-shirt with a pair of white drawstring pants for Holt and an ivory robe for me. “These are your costumes for this scene. I need you to rehearse in them, since removing them is part of the blocking.”

Oh, hell. I have to practice undressing Holt? In my current state, this isn’t going to end well.

Holt and I take our costumes and undergarments from Erika, then slink away to separate dressing rooms. When we reemerge, I swear we’re wearing identical blushes.

He looks good in his costume. Tall and lean. The stark white makes his eyes look even bluer than usual. He goes to shove his hands in his pockets, but the pants don’t have any. He sighs in frustration. I stop in front of him, and he eyes the deep vee at the front of my robe before dropping his head and muttering “
Shit
” under his breath.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Erika says as she claps. “We’ll begin by talking through the sequence of events. Miss Taylor, you’ll start by sitting on the bed. You’re awaiting your new husband, full of anticipation and longing. Mr. Holt, with the help of the nurse, you’ve managed to sneak into Juliet’s room. You’ll have a few short hours to consummate your love before you’re banished from the city. You both want to savor every inch of skin, memorize every part of each other’s body. Any questions?”

I shake my head and squirm as the elastic of my leotard rides up my left butt cheek. Holt shakes his head and cracks his knuckles.

“Start slowly. Take your time exploring each other. Romeo, this is your first time having sex with someone you truly love. It’s a profoundly different experience for you. And Juliet, your apprehension about giving yourself to a man for the first time is completely overridden by your desire for your new husband. As the passion builds, your movements can become more frantic. But when you come together, it’s a revelation for both of you. I’m not looking for porn here. Just simple, honest, pretend lovemaking. Are we clear?”

“Clear,” we say in unison.

My palms are sweaty, and Holt’s biting the inside of his cheek. The theater feels very small.

“Right. Take a moment to chat about what you’re going to do, then take your positions.”

Erika goes down into the auditorium, while Holt and I turn to each other and shuffle nervously.

“So…” I say, looking up at him.

He nods and lets out a breath. “Yeah. So…”

“We’re going to have fake sex.”

“Yep.”

“You and me.”

“Apparently.”

“I have to take your clothes off, and … well … touch you and stuff.”

He tries for his nonexistent pockets again before putting his hands on his hips. “Fuck this fucking play.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I’m sure after a few minutes, we’ll be bored out of our minds.”

He gives me the world’s most skeptical look.

“Are you two ready?” Erika calls.

We stare at each other for a second before Holt stalks off side stage.

Okay, so we’re really doing this. A sex scene between a virgin and the man who hates that he wants her. Should be fun.

I sit on the edge of the rostrum and bounce my legs.

“When you’re ready,” Erika says as she opens her notebook.

I take a few breaths, then Holt walks onstage, bare feet and beautiful face, eyes full of fear, need, and want.

I stand and face him as he approaches, a low flutter starting in my belly. It moves lower as he runs his gaze up and down my body.

Okay, Cassie, focus. Find your character. Juliet. It’s all about Juliet.

Dear God, Holt looks good in that costume.

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo.

He stops in front of me, and it looks like he’s just run a mile rather than walked a few steps across the stage. His breathing is fast, and his chest rises and falls as he locks eyes with me.

Lord.

His eyes.

He’s completely committed to this scene. No fear or hiding. Just honest, raw passion.

He focuses on me, and I melt. That look is going to be the death of me.

His expression screams that he’d walk over hot coals to have me, and my whole body reacts. A deep ache starts low and grows more intense with each passing second.

He cups my face and gently rubs his thumb over my cheekbone. Every piece of skin under his hand tingles fiercely. My heart races, pounding loud and fast, making me dizzy.

I step toward him. Now our bodies are touching. I mirror his hand and touch his face. He has light stubble on his cheek and chin. I graze my fingers over the sandpapery texture. His lips part, and I run my thumb over them, fascinated by their softness.

Such beautiful lips

Need to taste them.

I stand on my toes, and place my hand at the back of his neck as I pull him down. He’s in the middle of an exhale, but when I press my lips against his, he inhales sharply. He grips the back of my head with one hand and winds the other around my waist.

All of me melts against him. The way we react to each other is elemental. Candle wax and flame. Wherever he touches me, scorching heat flares beneath my skin.

His lips move slowly as he tastes me, filled with restrained passion and breathless anticipation.

“That’s good,” Erika calls out.

I open my eyes and pull back in surprise.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Ignore her.”

He kisses me again as he pulls my body flush against his, and Erika no longer exists.

When I inhale, it’s like pieces of him make their home inside me. His taste. His smell. Just as debilitating as the rest of him.

I run my hands down his chest, and as I reach his stomach, he pulls back and looks down at me.

I grip the bottom of his T-shirt. It needs to go. I have to see him. He helps me by yanking it over his head and dropping it on the floor.

And there he is.

Shirtless Holt.

I take a deep breath and really look at him. His broad shoulders, smooth and firm. His wide chest peppered lightly with hair. His flat stomach and narrow waist. Muscular but not bulky.

Lean.

Hard.

Sexy.

He watches me assess him, and his breath speeds up.

“Put your hands on me,” he orders quietly.

I run my fingertips over the backs of his hands and graze my palms up his forearms, over his triceps, and onto his shoulders. He takes in a shuddering breath and closes his eyes as I trail over his clavicle, his chest, down his ribcage and onto his abs.

I breathe through all the emotions I’m feeling, trying to make sense of why he affects me so powerfully.

I’ve always found him attractive, but this is more than that. An intense feeling of familiarity washes over me. A whisper of “yes” even as my mind screams “no.”

He opens his eyes, and his gaze travels down my chest, then lower, until he reaches the tie around my waist. He frowns when he tugs at the silky fabric to pull it loose. The robe falls open, and I’m incredibly aware that the only thing stopping Holt from seeing me naked is a skimpy leotard that is doing nothing to camouflage my nipples.

He draws in a loud breath and looks into my eyes before he steps forward. He bends down to press warm kisses down to my collarbone, onto my chest, then lower, between my breasts. The thin fabric of the leotard does nothing to insulate me from the effect of his lips on my body. He kisses his way back up, retracing the path he just took until his mouth is against my ear.

“Bored yet?” he whispers.

I run my hands down his chest and graze my fingernails along his abdominals, stopping at the waistband of his pants. I dip my finger under the elastic, and he grips me tighter as I kiss his chest.

“Practically comatose,” I whisper into his skin.

Holt makes a groaning sound, and that’s when the gloves come off. He grabs my face and kisses me fiercely. All pretense of being gentle and patient flies out the window as our rapid breathing and low moans fill the quiet space.

“Oh, good,” Erika says. “Nice sense of urgency. Keep going.”

“As if I’m going to fucking stop,” he says against my mouth.

He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He grunts and continues to kiss me while he carries me to our makeshift bed. He lays me down and climbs on top of me. I gasp when he settles between my legs.

He’s there. Right where all my tension has been building over the past few days. He’s hard and hot against me, and nothing he’s doing is enough. I want to consume him. Draw him inside until I can’t take anymore.

I grab his butt to pull him more firmly against me. He moans and circles his hips, making my fingers curl into his skin as tension builds inside me. I gasp when I feel a warm hand on my right breast.

“Okay, you’re walking a fine line now,” Erika calls out. “Watch where you put your hands.”

“Would it be okay to touch my new husband?” I call to her. “I mean, I’ve never experienced that part of a man before.” Onstage or off.

“Well,” she says. “I guess that’s true, but it can’t be too gratuitous. Touch his thigh and I’ll see what it looks like from here.”

I reach between us, and in the process, the back of my wrist brushes again Ethan’s erection.

He tenses up. “That’s not my thigh.”

“Sorry. My bad.”

He tenses his jaw. “I didn’t say it was bad, just not my thigh.”

“Okay, that looks good from out here,” Erika says. “It’s indicative of you touching him without being too obvious. Nice realistic reaction, Mr. Holt.”

“Thanks,” he says in a strangled voice as I turn my hand around so I can grip him gently.

God, he feels amazing. If he feels this good through clothes, how good would he feel naked in my hand?

I run my palm along the length of him.

“Fuck,” he says quietly. “You’d better stop.”

“Why?”

“Jesus,” he groans. “Please…”

He grunts and tries to pull away.

I kiss down his chest as I squeeze him more firmly. He hisses a loud exhale.

“Okay, Miss Taylor, that’s enough,” Erika calls. “It’s looking repetitive now.”

“Thank Christ,” Holt says as I remove my hand.

I grab the back of his neck and pull him down. We tangle again in a long, deep kiss that makes the hunger inside of me intensify.

I want him inside so much, it’s painful.

“At some point you have to take off his pants, Miss Taylor,” Erika says. “Otherwise consummating your marriage is going to be very difficult.”

Holt looks at me, panic written all over his face.

“She can’t see you,” I say as I push the pants down over his hips, revealing his flesh-toned trunks. He lifts his pelvis so I can get the pants down to his knees before he kicks them off.

“This is the most fucking embarrassing thing I’ve ever done,” he mutters as he settles back against me.

“Ditto.”

“Okay,” Erika says. “Now, we need to see the moment of actual consummation. I know this is probably challenging, and I’m sorry. It doesn’t have to be over the top, but it has to be there.”

Holt lowers his pelvis onto mine, and his face softens.

“Are you ready to lose your virginity?” he asks, and even though I know he’s joking, there’s something in his tone that makes my stomach tingle.