Page 73 of Breaking Hollywood

“If I had someone stalk me like that, I’d shit my pants.”

“Literally?”

“Yeah. And I’d probably piss myself, too.”

He laughs.

I can’t believe I’m talking about shit and piss with Gabe.

I’m so weird.

“So, anyway”—I look down at the script—“you want to get started on this?”

“Sure.” He pulls his glasses from his bag and puts them on.

My girl parts shimmy in response. I have to squeeze my thighs together to relieve the ache.

“So, which part are we working on?”

“Go to page five. You read the part of Estelle. I’m Henry.”

“Is Estelle Henry’s love interest in the movie?”

His eyes connect with mine. The darkening of them makes my mouth dry and my stomach quiver.

“Yeah. She’s the one he wants to fuck. Badly.”

For a moment, I wonder if he’s actually talking about him and me.

“Do they…have sex? In the movie?” I can’t believe I actually asked that.

“Yes.”

Our eyes are still locked. I run my tongue over my dry lips.

Gabe’s eyes follow the movement.

I swallow. “Is there…dialogue? In the sex scene.”

“Yeah. Henry’s a talker during sex. A really dirty talker.”

Holy crap.

“And…will you need me to help you run those lines?”

His eyes come up to mine. It feels like an age before he speaks, but when he does, it’s worth the wait. “Definitely.”

Sweet mother of Jesus, my panties are soaked.

I drag my eyes from his, feeling like I can’t breathe. My body is on fire, and the only thing it wants…needs to soothe itself is him.

God, I want him. I’ve never wanted a man more.

“Ava…”

Jesus, when he says my name, I want to die.

“Gucci’s off her lead.”