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I touched his head lightly with my fingertips.
My nails scraped roughly against his scalp as I gripped two good fistfuls of his hair, angling his head back, face up, forcing him to look up at my face.
He let me, blinking slowly up at me.
I bent down and pressed my mouth to his.
He'd been drinking beer, I could tell. The taste of it was drugging on his breath, turned impossibly sweet. It brought back memories, good ones and bad, as all things did with Dante.
I lingered at the kiss. I was running short on time but I didn't hold back.
When I finally tore my mouth from his, we were both panting hard, but I found the breath to say, "You will come clean about this or you will stay out of my life."
He didn't say anything, and I thrusted myself away from him, moving a safe distance out of his reach. "I assume you're staying somewhere in town?"
He just nodded, looking a little dazed.
"I have to get back on set, but we're not finished here. Why don't you text me the address where you're staying? I'll come see you when I'm done working for the day."
"I'll wait here until you're finished. We can drive together."
I chewed on my lip as I thought it out. "Fine. As long as you've sobered up enough by then to drive."
He grabbed his discarded cup of coffee, toasting it at me. "Got it."
Stuart felt we were on a roll that day, and so we ended up shooting hours longer than I'd even anticipated.
We'd worked so deep into the night that P.M. had passed into A.M. hours prior.
I figured Dante would have given up, would have left by the time I made it back to my trailer.
I figured wrong. He was there and awake. And hell, he was even sober.
Our eyes clashed for a few intense beats before I moved to the small bedroom in back, changing into street clothes.
"We talking here or at your place?" I asked him as I came back out, grabbing my things. "Or my place?" I added.
"Mine," he answered instantly, rising from the sofa.
"What have you been doing in here for all this time? Meditating?"
He gave me a small smile for that. "I kept busy. Sobered up. Went for a run, made some phone calls."
I hadn't expected a semi-straight answer. Usually he matched sarcasm with sarcasm. "Who were you calling?" I didn't really think he'd answer if it was anything besides business, but it never hurt to ask.
"I was trying to figure out who's been talking to you."
I rubbed my hands together, a nervous tell. I made myself stop. "And did you?"
"No. I couldn't get anything concrete, so I've put some people on it. Unless, of course, you'd like to change your mind and tell me?"
I shook my head dismissively. "Not likely. And it doesn't matter. Truly. You should be more worried about what I know than who told it to me."
His mouth twisted bitterly. "Touché."
That shut us both up for a while. I left my car in the lot, going with him.
"How long is the drive?" I asked him.
