Page 17 of Broken Romeo
A cloud of dust surrounds me as I drop to lay back on the floor once more.
How in the hell am I supposed to work for a man whom I can barely look at without searing hot rage taking hold of my body?
Liar, a voice echoes in my brain. The heat I feel isn’t always rage. Sometimes it’s searing hot lust.
I take a deep breath and start over. Focus, Kate. Find the groove.
I latch onto the soft silk of his voice, picturing the rain hitting the windowpane of an old Victorian house. Thunderclaps in the distance, and I can smell the sweet scent of lemongrass all around me.
I can smell Holden all around me.
Lemongrass in a rainstorm.
Holden in a rainstorm.
Wet, with his damp t-shirt clinging to thick biceps that strain against the seams…
My breath deepens, filling my abdomen.
“That’s it, Kate,” he says, his voice low, sultry, and I feel every word between my legs, causing my desire to pulse. “There it is.”
My eyes split open, just the smallest fraction of an inch to sneak a look. Holden’s gaze locks onto my breasts, watching as they rise and fall with each rhythmic breath.
I’m not supposed to be seeing this, seeing him.
The erotic flare cuts deeper in my body, and I clamp my eyes shut so he doesn’t catch me peeking.
“Okay,” he says. The resonance of his voice spears into me, devilishly masculine and so, so sexy. “Now you’re ready to begin the reading.”
Finally, I’m allowed to open my eyes—and when I do, Holden is seated beside me, holding a few sheets of paper.
The scripts.
“Read,” he commands, handing me one of them and keeping the other for himself.
I skim the lines on the page, my breasts grow heavy with every sexy word. It’s literally the scene where the two main characters have sex for the first time. The throbbing in my core is so intense that I snap my legs together, squeezing them tight and praying that Holden doesn’t see my nipples pearl or remember the way my cheeks flush when I’m turned on.
“Read out loud, Kate,” he says.
Shit. I’m still on my back, holding the sheet of paper held up over my face as I begin saying my lines out loud. “I had to see you.” My voice is raspy, so I clear my throat.
There aren’t a lot of lines on the page. It’s mostly stage directions. Sexy stage directions, which Holden reads aloud.
“Zach teases his nose down Skyler’s neck and removes her shirt. They fall against a wall in a passionate embrace,” he reads.
Holden is an actor first and a director second, which is abundantly clear with his lines just now. Even reading stage direction, he can’t keep the raw talent dripping with sex from his voice.
Hell, the man could read the phone book, and it would be sexy.
His eyes drive into me with a laser focus that strips me bare in front of him where I’m still lying on the stage. He doesn’t even need to look at the script, as though he’s already memorized every word.
I hold my breath, refusing to exhale because I know how much it would tremble.
“Kate, it’s your line.”
Fuck. He’d have to be blind to not see how he’s affecting me. It’s obvious from the shame that flames red on my cheeks and across the bridge of my nose; from the heaving breath that hitches my breasts, my pebbled nipples, and the quiver of my knees that I can’t seem to subdue.
The script rustles in my shaking hands, and I lick my lips, tearing my gaze from his mesmerizing stare. I search the page for where we left off. Where the hell is my line?