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“Fucking amazing.” He leaned over and opened my car door for me. Then he slapped my ass as I climbed in.
“Ow!”
“I’ll get the chocolate. Meet you at your place.”
“Yes, sir.” I winked then slammed my car door.
The hard, hot look he gave me promised he’d be getting me back for that BJ in the bleachers. As long as we didn’t have to talk about the L-word, that was fine by me.
He was right. I was scared shitless and didn’t know what to do with that. For now, I’d tuck it away and not think about it till I had to.
Chapter Twenty-Five
~BENNETT~
“Here, let me help you,”said Brittany, taking the mic wire from me.
Brittany had been stage manager on several productions, and though I liked her, she seemed to like me a little too much.
I’d attached the mic receiver to my pants at the small of my back and had been trying to weave the wire up the back of my white T-shirt I’d wear under the seventies-style shirt and suit as my character Paul.
I didn’t mind her helping me, but I did mind the way her knuckles were stroking along my spine more than necessary as she threaded the wire up and out the neck. When she’d finally extracted her hand from inside my shirt, I turned to take the end of the mic.
“I can do it for you,” she offered, grabbing the mic tape with her free hand, still holding the end of the mic with the other.
When she went to thread the wire behind my ear, her fingers trailing intimately over the shell, I took a step back and grabbed the mic from her hands. “I’ve got it, Brittany. I appreciate your help.”
“You sure?” She blinked up at me, flashing me a flirty smile.
“I’m sure,” I said, turning toward the mirror on the wall next to the stand where we kept all the mics.
In the reflection, I spotted Betty standing at the doorway of the back entrance, her pretty face set in a deep scowl.
“Hey,” I said, turning as I taped the mic wire near my jaw. “You running late?”
She walked in, gaze sliding where Brittany had just headed back up the ramp toward the backstage area. Then she arched a brow and sashayed closer.
“Apparently not late enough to catch some chick feeling up my boyfriend.”
I couldn’t help the warm feeling that swamped me at her jealousy. It was absurd for her to be jealous because no woman could turn my head away from her. Not even close. Still, I found some sick joy in seeing her seething with envy at Brittany’s touchy fingers.
Especially after last night. She’d freaked out when I told her I loved her. I wasn’t going to pretend I didn’t, but I decided to pull back a little and give her time to come to terms with it. I didn’t mind holding my tongue, but I couldn’t stop how I felt about her.
I met her halfway and swept her against my body, pressing a kiss to her stiff lips, which she didn’t return. Just scowled up at me like it was my fault.
“Do you honestly think I want Brittany?”
Arms still at her sides, she shrugged, looking indifferent while also looking annoyed. It was the cutest expression I’d ever seen her wear.
I dipped my head and slid my hand down to cup her ass before I rumbled into her ear, “I came in your sweet, tight pussy three times last night. And I want to get back in. I guarantee you that I don’t want the stage manager.”
She finally reacted, latching her little claws onto my biceps. “I know you don’t. But that doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate her sticking her hands up your shirt and copping a good feel.”
“Then we should make it official and tell everyone you’re my girlfriend.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s so dumb. Like what? We wait till our backstage huddle when Peter gives us the break-a-leg speech then announce we’re girlfriend and boyfriend?”
I laughed rather than answer, kissing her again on her unresponsive lips.
