Bad Romeo (32 page)

“Wow,” I say, breathless. “If this is how you react when I suck on your bicep, imagine the fun we’re going to have when I get to other parts of your anatomy.”

He immediately freezes.

And there it is. The reaction he always has when I imply I’d like to take him in my mouth.

“You know,” I say, trying to loosen his arms so I can pull back and look at him, “most men have a completely different reaction when a girl offers to pleasure them orally. Are you afraid I won’t do it right, because I have no experience? I can assure you, I’ve watched enough porn to know my way around a penis. I mean, I don’t know if I’ll be able to take it all the way in like some of those girls, but I’m sure, with enough practice that I could—”

“Fuck me, Taylor…” He lets me go and slumps back against the couch. “You just … you can’t go around saying that kind of stuff.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” He rubs his eyes, then looks at me, pained and turned on. “I’m trying not to let things get out of control with you, and if you keep saying that stuff, it’s going to be fucking impossible.”

“Fine. I won’t talk.”

I push up his tank and kiss his stomach before moving down to the waistband of his pants. A long, tortured groan pours out of him.

“We can’t,” he says, his voice cracking. “Someone could walk in any second.”

“So?” I unlatch his belt buckle. “I’m sure it’s not the first time drama students have been caught pleasuring each other backstage. We’re a very horny bunch, or haven’t you noticed?”

I stroke him through his pants, and even though his accompanying moan sounds like a protest, he doesn’t stop me.

“You’re killing me, Taylor. You know that, right? Every time you touch me, you kill me a little more.”

There’s a rush of running feet outside, and Holt springs off the couch and refastens his pants right before the door bursts open, and a naked Jack Avery streaks into the room.

“Pre-party nudie dash!” He does a quick lap of the room and exits.

“Jesus. I did
not
need to see that.” Holt strides toward the open door. “Why don’t these goddamn doors have locks? Hide your shame, Avery!”

He slams the door and slumps back onto the couch.

“Actually,” I say, “nude Jack has nothing to be ashamed of. Who knew the geek was packing that larger-than-average lightsaber in his
Star Wars
underoos?”

Holt rolls his eyes, and I laugh as I sit beside him and stroke the back of his neck.

“You were really good tonight,” I say, running my fingers over his ear.

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I love watching you onstage. You’re so … sexy. And talented. In fact, I think you’re sexy
because
you’re talented. I mean, you’re also ridiculously handsome, but so are soap actors, and they do absolutely nothing for me because they’re terrible actors. So yeah, I find your talent a turn-on. Is that weird? Should I stop talking now?”

He smiles and leans forward. “Yes.”

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me gently. I grip his arms to steady myself as my heart kicks into overdrive.

He pulls back and sighs. “You’re talented, too. Way too talented in too many ways.”

“So,” I say as I take his hand and stroke his fingers. “Did you see my scene with Connor?”

He tenses. “Uh … yeah. I saw it from backstage.”

A hint of agitation creeps onto his face, and I can almost hear his brain whispering things that aren’t true.

“And what did you think?”

“You were good.”

“Uh huh. And Connor?”

He shrugs and stands. “He was all right. He made some obvious choices, but I guess they worked.”

He strips off his pants, giving me a very nice view of his butt in dark gray boxer-briefs before he pulls on his jeans.

“So … you don’t want to talk about anything else to do with the scene?”

He grabs a V-neck sweater and yanks it over his head. “Nope.” He pushes up the sleeves and runs his hand through his hair.

“You don’t care that I kissed him?”

He sits on a chair opposite me and pulls out his boots and socks from under the bench. “I care. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he says as he pulls on a sock, “talking about it … even thinking about it, makes me irrationally fucking angry.”

Wow. He’s admitting something. This is epic.

“Holt, you know you have nothing to be jealous of, right?”

He pushes his foot into his boot and tugs roughly at the laces. “Don’t I? You looked pretty into that kiss. And it’s been obvious from day one that Connor wants to get into your pants.”

I walk over and stand in front of him as he laces up his other boot. “I don’t think he does anymore. Ever since that first party when I stopped him kissing me, I think he’s known that … well…”

He finishes with his laces and looks up at me. “He’s known what?”

I focus on the tiny frown line between his brows. “Even back then, he’d figured out that I … you know … liked you.”

He leans back in the chair and sighs. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean
he
stopped liking
you
. He just started hiding it better.”

“He’s hiding it pretty well. During our entire week of rehearsals, he didn’t make a single pass at me.”

“Apart from all that time he spent sucking your face, of course.”

I blink. “Uh … yeah. Apart from that.”

He stands up and takes a step toward me. “Did he use tongue?”

“A little.”

“How little?”

I cup the back of his head and pull his head down. “Kind of like this.”

I kiss him slowly, then take his top lip between mine and suck on it gently before repeating the move on his bottom lip.

He makes a noise and pulls back to glare down at me. “Jesus, Cassie, he kissed you like that?!”

“Uh … sort of.”

“Sort of?!”

“Well, yeah, but … it was different because it was our characters, and … it wasn’t you. And that made it all wrong.”

He drops his head. I’m not explaining myself well, but I don’t know what to say to him.

“He and I didn’t have any of the chemistry you and I do.”

“From where I stood, it looked like you had plenty of chemistry.”

“It was just acting. Did you see the love scene between Miranda and Jack? It was hot as hell, but it’s not like Miranda has traded in her lesbian card and wants to jump Jack. It just looked that way.”

He walks around me and grabs a hanger from the rack before hanging up his suit and zipping it into a garment bag.

“Ethan, come on.”

“I believe you,” he says as he shoves it onto the rack. “Logically, I know you did what was needed in order to make the scene work. But…”

“But what?”

He puts his hands in his pockets and blows out a breath. “It made me feel sick, seeing you kissing him.” He looks at me, and even now he doesn’t seem entirely well. “It made me crazy, Taylor, and I’m not just saying that as hyperbole. I truly felt unhinged. Like I could have beaten the shit out of him for touching you.”

“Like you did to Matt when you found out about him and Vanessa?” I ask.

He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “Jesus, is there anything my goddamn sister hasn’t told you?”

I walk over and put my hands on his chest, then stroke him through his sweater.

“Ethan, I wouldn’t cheat on you with Connor.”

He looks down, seeming more vulnerable than I’ve seen him for a long time. “I know that.”

“I’d never cheat on you, with anyone.”

“Yeah, well, technically, you can’t cheat on me, because I’m not your boyfriend.”

His words at first hit me like a sucker punch, but I have to remember who I’m talking to.

“The funny thing is, you sound a lot like my boyfriend.” I run my hands up his neck. “My extremely hot, jealous boyfriend.”

I pull his hands out of his pockets and wrap them around my waist. His trademark flicker of fear sparks in his eyes, before he shakes his head and strokes my lower back.

“Taylor, you have sucky taste. There are guys who would be far better boyfriends than I would be. I’d bet Connor would be a fucking spectacular boyfriend. He’d be one of those sickening idiots who’d bring you flowers in the middle of the cafeteria or hire a barbershop quartet for your birthday.”

“So are you telling me I should date Connor instead of you?”

“He’d be better for you than I would.”

“Oh, in that case, I’d better go find him.” I turn to leave, but I only take three steps before he spins me around, presses me into the door, and kisses me, all open mouth and soft tongue.

For the life of me, I can’t remember what we were talking about thirty seconds ago.

When he pulls back, we’re both breathless.

“So, I’m not sure if you got my subtle subtext there,” he says, “but I’d really like it if you stayed the fuck away from Connor, okay?”

My heart is pounding overtime. “If Connor knew you were my boyfriend, he’d know I’m not available. I don’t understand why we can’t just go public.”

He leans his head against mine. “Cassie, I’ve had high-profile relationships. When things go wrong, it just makes it that much harder to deal with.”

“I understand that, but you’re working on the assumption that something will go wrong with us. Maybe it won’t. Maybe we’ll be perfectly happy and never fight.’”

He laughs. “You have met us, right? We fight all the time.” He tightens his arms around me and pulls me more firmly against him. “I just want to keep it between us for a little longer. Okay?”

I nod. “I guess I just … I don’t want to feel like you’re ashamed to have people know you like me, or whatever.”

“I’m not ashamed.” He cups my face. “Well, actually, I’m a little ashamed of my constant erection, but that’s beside the point. I just don’t want people judging and talking behind our backs. I’d prefer we keep it private.”

I sigh and run my fingers across the stubble on his jaw. “Okay. We can keep it on the down-low for a while longer, but what do I say if someone straight out asks me about us?”

There’s a babble of voices in the hallway, and he immediately steps away and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Lie.”

“And if Connor asks?”

His eye twitches. “Tell that fucker we’re engaged.”

Present Day
New York City

The foyer of the Majestic Theater is packed with performers, producers, sponsors, and avid theatergoers, all coming together for one of the largest fund-raisers on the Broadway calendar. Each audience member has paid several hundred dollars to see excerpts from some of the best shows currently playing in the theater district, with all proceeds going toward the Variety Performers of America Benevolent Fund.

Holt and I performed a short excerpt from our show as a preview prior to opening, and judging by the audience reaction, our show’s going to be a bona fide hit. Even now, as we move through the foyer, people keep stopping us to tell us how much they’re looking forward to seeing it. I spy Marco across the room, beaming. It feels good to know that the buzz is positive. It makes my growing anxiety about opening night a little more bearable.

With his hand at the small of my back, Holt steers me to an alcove at the side of the foyer. It houses a particularly bad fake-marble statue of a man with an abnormally small penis, but as least it’s free from the noise and crush of the rest of the room.

“Sorry for rubbing up against you,” he says. “It was unavoidable in that crowd.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought the first three times you did it. Then it was just gratuitous.”

He looks shocked. “Taylor, are you implying that I rubbed up against you on purpose?” He moves forward so my back is against the pillar. “That’s just insulting. I would never stoop to something so low. If I was going to sexually harass you, I’d be all subtle about it, like this.”

He gives me a ridiculously sexy face and presses me into the wall, and although I want to laugh at his antics, the truth is, having his body pressed against me ruins my ability to do anything but breathe.

A loud laugh nearby jolts me back to reality, and a prickle of nervousness runs up my spine as I realize we can still be seen.

“Okay, Sir Humpsalot, cut it out.” I push against his chest until he steps back. “There are reporters here. We don’t want them getting the wrong impression.”

“What, that I enjoy rubbing myself on you? Because that’s not the wrong impression. That’s an indisputable fact. How do you not know this by now?”

“What I mean is, they might think that we’re … well … you know…”

His smile fades a little. “No. Why don’t you tell me?”

I sigh and stare at him. “They might think that we’re … together. And we’re not.”

A flicker of disappointment registers on his face, but he hides it quickly. He puts his hand on the pillar behind my head and leans down.

“You know, it would be really good publicity for our show if we
were
together. I mean, just think of it, ‘Real-life Couple Plays Lovers Onstage.’ The press would eat it up.”

“Ethan…”

“Of course, we’d have to do lots of publicity. I’d have to take you out to high-profile restaurants and make sure the paparazzi were watching when I kissed you … and sucked on your neck … and put my hand between your legs under the table.”

The juncture of my thighs lights up at the thought.

I lean more heavily against the pillar.

“If you really want our show to be a hit,” he says as his gaze flickers between my eyes and mouth, “then you’d agree to let me kiss you. Right now. In front of all of these people.”

He stares at me, and all I can do is gaze at his lips while my lust wages war with my fear.

“Just say yes, Cassie. Don’t overthink it.”

His mouth is close. Almost too close for me to deny him anything.

“Ethan…”

“No, not ‘Ethan.’ ‘Yes’. Or better yet, ‘Yes, please, God, kiss me before we both go insane.’ Either works for me. ‘Fuck, yes!’ with an accompanying fist pump is also acceptable.”

I have to smile.

God, I love him.

I gasp.

Whoa.

So not ready to face that reality yet.