his head at her chidingly, but his voice was hoarse. “That’s cheating, Whittier. You didn’t earn that yet.”
“I didn’t cheat.” She stared down her nose at him, cheeks aflame with lust. “Unless I’m mistaken, you’re still wearing your boxer-briefs.”
That cocky smirk should be illegal. “So I am. Not, however, in the intended manner.”
“And not for much longer,” she told him. “Lie down.”
At the flick of her finger, he stretched out full-length on the couch once more. This time, when she straddled his thighs, she did so with her fist tight around his burgeoning cock, and apart from a few semifrantic rolls of his hips, he didn’t offer any more distractions or interruptions.
She gave him a firm stroke before speaking again, and he jerked beneath her and grew even harder in her hand. “I saw Francine’s note about where the television series’s showrunners hope to sell it.” The same cable channel as Gods of the Gates. “If they succeed, that should ensure a decent budget, and I’m sure your involvement in the show would help them make their case. The role has action sequences, but a strong emotional core too. I suspect you like the way they gender-flipped the characters, compared to the norm.”
She licked her palm. Stroked him again as he bit off a loud moan.
“I spent the longest with that script, because I was looking for telltale signs the show intended to shame sex workers. I couldn’t find any.” With her free hand, she stroked up that flat belly and over his chest as he squirmed between her thighs. “My guess? You were drawn to the role because everyone, even the female lead, dismisses your character as just a pretty face and fuckable body at first, but there’s much more to him. It’s a smart script, Marcus. The best of the lot. Good money too.”
“So why—” He was arching beneath her and gasping now, to her infinite satisfaction. “Why haven’t I auditioned already?”
Her hands stilled. Dammit. She’d hoped he wouldn’t ask that.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I couldn’t quite figure it out.”
After blowing out a hard breath, he managed a wry tone. “If you do figure it out, let me know. Because I have no idea, and I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Okay.” This deserved her full attention, and his too, so she removed her hands from his body and placed them on her own thighs. “Do you have any theories?”
He subsided down into the couch again. “I don’t want to leave you, of course. But the audition would only keep us apart for a day or two, so that’s not it. Not all of it, anyway. And I don’t want to stop acting entirely, so that’s not the issue either.”
Reaching up, he tucked a swath of her hair behind her ear. “I haven’t been able to make myself audition for months now, and I don’t know why. Even though it feels ungrateful to waste these opportunities. Foolish too.”
“It’s not foolish.” She laid her palm over his heart, as she’d done before. “There’s no right or wrong answer here. Just—”
“—whatever makes me happiest,” he finished, a slight smile lightening his expression. “I hope that’s true.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
He winced then, his flinch sudden and violent, and she hurriedly scrambled off his lap.
“Did you get a cramp?” She scanned him, but couldn’t see an obvious issue other than his flagging erection. “Where are you hurting?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “No, I—”
Her cell rang, cutting him off, but she ignored it. “What can I do to help?”
“Please, answer your phone.” When she didn’t move, he shooed her away. “I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
Preoccupied with his mostly naked, possibly hurting state, she didn’t check the screen display before answering her cell. It was a mistake.
“Hi, sweetheart! So glad I caught you at home tonight.”
Her mother’s voice rang through the connection, bright and cheery. Too bright and cheery, which meant Mom was anxious. Probably because her daughter hadn’t been answering her calls regularly.
“Hi, Mom.” Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. “Yes. For once, we decided to stay in and relax, instead of going out.”
Marcus was shooting her a quizzical look as he tugged his boxer-briefs back around his hips, no doubt wondering why she was lying to her mother. She and Marcus hadn’t spent an evening out since Alex’s visit, partly to avoid paparazzi and partly because they both seemed to be natural homebodies.
Apparently he hadn’t noticed her rejecting JoAnn’s calls.