by C. R. Jane
"Right this way," I say in what I hope sounds like a seductive voice. I was supposed to be a deadly assassin after all. I figured the character would know what to do to get the mobster alone.
We walk up the stairs and I feel like my whole skin is on fire. From reading the script, I know that Beckham is supposed to be staring at my ass as we go up. I almost trip with the sensation of his eyes upon me.
We get to the top, making our way into a dimly lit room. I turn around to face a Beckham who is now loosening his tie.
"You got me up here, Now what are you going to do with me?" I say, biting my lip flirtatiously. It was kind of fun to act like someone else for a moment. It helps me get over the fact that Beckham has no idea who I am. In this scene, I hadn’t lost him. He was just a stranger that I was trying to do my job on.
Beckham walks towards me with a dangerous grin. I know that the cameras are all around and this shouldn’t feel as sexy as it does, but I can’t help it.
He leans so far into me that I have no choice but to sit down. He kneels in front of me, his hand beginning to slide up my leg starting from where my heel, all the way up.
I try to remember what my next line is, I’m having trouble thinking.
"You're an angel. An angel dressed like sin," he says.
It's not the best line I've heard in a movie, but the way he says the word “angel” sounds so similar to the way that he always says it to me that my heart starts to beat faster. I reach out and touch a lock of his hair. I put both of my hands in his hair, savoring the feel of him. This is the part of the scene where I’m supposed to kiss him, get him right where I want him...right before I try and stab him.
It's not exactly a hardship to try and seduce him. I bring his face closer to mine. "I’ve been to this bar a million times, how have I never seen you before?" he asks, right as his lips brush against mine. Sparks light up along my skin, and I'm drowning in him just from the simplest touch. I'm so desperate to deepen the kiss that I almost miss my line.
“Guess I was waiting for you to be ready for me,” I say softly, brushing my lips flirtatiously against his once again.
Suddenly I don't want to be here anymore. It's too hard to do this because I know that the way that he’s looking at me is just for the movie. I’m just a stranger, a nobody to him.
It’s agonizing.
“Cut,” the Director yells. “Can someone tell me why the stripper looks like she’s about to cry,” he yells, throwing up his hands in frustration.
Beckham is looking at me concerned. “Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?” he asks sweetly. It’s almost enough to make me start sobbing.
“I just had a bad memory pop up. I’m just being ridiculous,” I say. I wipe away a tear that has leaked out of my eye. “This is so unprofessional.”
“Give us five,” Beckham suddenly yells to the crew that is watching us aptly.
He grabs my hand and leads me out of the room. People look at us curiously as we walk by, but Beckham doesn’t stop to talk to any of them. He finally leads us to a closed door.
“Inside,” Beckham orders, pushing the door open to crash against the wall inside, his aggressive commanding tone sending goosebumps along my entire body.
I sigh in relief at the break from so many eyes watching me even if I can feel his eyes staring holes into the back of my head. I didn’t know how I was going to face everyone after my near meltdown.
“Did someone on set make a pass at you?” Beckham finally asks, his face alert and watchful.
I frown, not understanding why he was asking that. “No, nothing like that.”
“Can I do anything to make you feel better?” he asks in a soft, concerned tone, and I just look at him in shock.
“Why would you want to help me? You don’t even know me.”
“Are you sure we haven’t met?” he asks. “Because somehow you feel like the most familiar person in the world to me at the moment.”
There’s a pause, where it seems like a million words are exchanged between us, and then I launch myself at him.
The sexual need ricocheting between us is palpable, the tension between us fueling our need to connect. A burning fire looms just under the surface as he stares at me with lust-fueled eyes, the sheer magnitude of his display effectively stunning me in place, unable to move, staring at the beauty of it. Like an animal, a ferocious beast, he grabs my arm, roughly squeezing me tighter to him.
I sway slightly in my lust-filled stupor, completely overcome by his commanding force. I forget about the fact that there’s a movie crew waiting just outside as his mouth finds mine, his tongue plunging deep. My body clenches and pulses in desperate yearning as his hands aggressively slide up my thighs, harshly palming my ass.
“You’re an angel sent to destroy me,” he spews against my lips, licking the seam, sucking and nibbling his way along my jaw and neck. Tilting my head at the pleasure of his onslaught, I moan incoherently, shaken to my soul in longing. “Beckham. please…”
I need him to take me to that place that he always does. I’m desperate for him, the aphrodisiac effects of the tension filled scene we’ve been filming for the past few hours fueling my desire further. Lifting his gaze to mine, his stare is molten, burning with a desire like I’ve never seen before, searing me deep with its passion. A rush of breath pours from my mouth, a shiver coursing through me at the sight. His eyes are heavy with lust, hair disheveled, begging to be pulled.
Our dual need to feel, taste, consume, overtakes us; our mouths meeting in a fury, lips devouring in a ravenous kiss, so hot, so pervasive, it could burn us both alive. He cups my jaw in his hands, holding me securely in place for his ravaging kisses, my body shaking in need. I’m so unbelievably desperate for him, I would give just about anything, say just about anything, for him to take me here, now. It wouldn’t matter if the walls of this place came crashing around us, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Gripping and squeezing his arms, I savor the feel of his corded muscles tightening and flexing beneath my palms, the knowledge that he’s about to come undone almost bringing me to my knees. I need him crazed, out of control; my need to spur him on causing me to deepen our kiss, biting him hard as I do so.
“I’m desperate for you,” I cry out, as my lust-fueled euphoria threatens to consume me. My words fuel his ever-raging fire sending him growling against my lips, his fingers flexing slightly at my jaw before lowering to grip my sequined bra in his hands, harshly ripping it open, sending sequins pinging to the floor.
Not sure what we’re going to do about that.
I yelp in surprise at his dominant display, his hands returning to my face, taking me in another searing kiss that melts me from the inside out. Tongues dueling, devouring each other’s mouths, he frantically slides his shirt off of his shoulders, making quick work of the rest of his clothes.
My body is on fire, desperate for his touch, his mouth. Swiping his palms along my body, my needy whimpers spike his ardor, his hands gliding up, gripping my shoulders.
“Can I take what I want, angel?” his husky words whisper against my lips, before he pulls back, staring into my eyes. He swiftly lifts me to stand. Turning me, he reaches around for a quick teasing swipe down my body before wrapping his hands firmly around my waist.
“Yes…” I reach back, sliding my hands up around the nape of his neck, tugging on his golden hair in desperation, arching my body to grind against him. Placing a hand at the small of my back, he forces my shoulder with the other, bending me over the back of the couch. My hands instinctively reach forward to gain measure in the incredibly sexy assault, a warm flush spreading across my skin as his fingers tease my bare skin.
He releases an appreciative groan, reaching for my barely there thong, before he rips that too.
“Where have you been all my life?” he emits on a desperate plea.
“Please,” I urge, arching back for him, taunting him, wearing nothing but my black heels. I whimper as we connect, squeezing my eyes s
hut on a moan.
“You’re perfect, angel,” he groans.
“Beckham,” I manage, my head dropping forward, unable to contain my desperation to feel him inside me; my need to feel him connecting with me engulfing me like an inferno.
He moves deep inside of me. His fevered momentum has me screaming out in abandon with every lashing thrust of his ownership. Reaching aggressively for my hips, he lifts me to the tips of my toes, driving into me over and over again; the sounds of us melding into my pleas for more.
Unabashed, wild love consumes me. This is what I need. He makes me feel complete. Never have I loved another as much as I love the three of them. On a harsh growl, he moves against me with mindless abandon.
“That’s it, angel. Give yourself to me,” he demands, his voice barely legible above my cries. He’s pushing me towards the edge.
“Beckham,” I cry out, finally falling over the precipice.
“Fuck, yes!” he groans, releasing my hips, his large body looming against my back, stiffening rigidly. I relish in the feel of his muscular body tightening; his groans of satisfaction fill me up. This is heaven.
“Never letting you go, angel,” are the sole words I hear before I collapse forward.
This would be the part that I tell him I love him. And for the first time since we came into the room, I regret what just happened. Because what just happened wasn’t something between Eva and Beckham, it was something between Beckham and a stranger.
A tear falls down my cheek and I have to hold onto the whimper of sadness that’s threatening to burst out of me.
Beckham slowly moves himself off of me, breathing hard. He strokes a finger down my spine, and I stiffen.
“Eva,” he says, sounding unsure of himself. I don’t look up until I know more tears aren’t going to fall.
For the first time since I started sleeping with them, I feel dirty...dirty and used.
I stand up, parts of my body aching, and I cover myself up self-consciously, the full realization of what just happened hitting me.
“Eva, are you alright?” he asks when I won’t look up at him.
I take a deep breath and slowly meet his golden eyes. “I’m fine,” I say in a watery voice that I regret. His eyes close like he’s in pain.
“I shouldn’t have…” he starts, but I hold up a hand.
“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to,” I said. “It’s just I don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“I don’t sleep with guys who don’t love me,” I say, my eyes filling with tears once again.
He looks miserable. “You’re killing me, angel. I don’t want you to feel bad about what just happened. That was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. In fact, I can’t wait to do it again,” he says, pulling me towards him and softly stroking my hair as he brushes kisses against the top of my head.
I lean in closer, desperately soaking up the affection that I’m feeling from him. Could this have meant more to him than just a quick lay with an extra he thought was attractive? I want to ask him questions, but a knock sounds on the door just then.
“Um, Mr. Stone...everyone’s waiting for the two of you,” comes an awkward voice through the door.
Beckham groans, clearly realizing how this looks. Everyone is going to know what just happened...and he destroyed my costume meaning that we’re somehow going to have to ask for another one.
He grabs his white button up off the floor and helps me into it. “I’m going to go out there and find you another costume,” he says beginning to walk towards the door, after I’m a bit more covered than naked.
He must see the panic on my face because he quickly comes back. “I’ll be right back,” he says. “And I’ll be discreet.”
I nod gratefully and sink back onto the dusty couch wishing there was a way that I could just zip myself out of here. I guess they’re all going to think that I match my costume, I laugh to myself.
My laughter subsides after just a second though because I can’t stop thinking about what just happened. Did I go too far? Could I stand a relationship that started like this instead of getting my old relationship and all of its memories back?
For the first time I understand how frustrated Beckham must have felt when Lexi returned his memories back to him about us, but I still couldn’t remember any of them. All I wanted was for him and the others to remember how much I loved them, how much they loved me.
I put my head in my hands, wanting to disappear.
The door creaks open and I look up in panic. I let out a sigh of relief when it was just Beckham returning with a hanger containing another sparkling black stripper suit. “Found one,” he says with a smile.
I grab the hanger from him and then proceed to turn my body away from him, feeling awkward about him seeing me change even though he just saw me naked.
“Hey,” he says softly. I turn around to look at him. “You never have to be embarrassed in front of me. I think you’re perfect. But I’ll turn around if it makes you more comfortable.”
“Thanks,” I croak out, waiting for him to turn around before I discard his shirt and pull my barely there outfit back on.
Beckham’s changed back into his costume when I turn around, looking just a little rumpled. His smile changes to a scowl when he looks at me in my outfit.
“I’m going to go crazy with you in that, with all of them looking at you,” he growls.
I feel myself blush.
“The scene is almost over. I just have to try and kill you I think, right?” I say soothingly.
He nods begrudgingly. “But then I have to kill you,” he says, acting like the thought of pretending to do that hurts him.
“Come on,” I tell him, my smile widening because it feels like he actually cares, like this wasn’t just a one-off to get his rocks off.
“Walk behind me,” he orders. “That way I can at least cover you up some.”
There’s a group of nervous looking assistants waiting outside the door. They all avert their gazes when I catch them staring at me.
“Where’s her robe?” Beckham barks out and an assistant comes tumbling forward with my black robe. Beckham helps me slip into it and he holds my hand as we walk back to where the crew is waiting to finish the scene.
I know I’m fifty shades of red when we walk in. I can feel the knowing smiles and the lecherous thoughts coming from the crew.
I look up when the Director clears his throat. His eyes flash and I see something that resembles jealousy when he looks at us. I’m not sure if its jealousy towards me or Beckham though. The Director opens his mouth to say something, but Beckham’s hard stare makes him think twice about it.
“Let’s finish this scene,” the Director finally says and we both nod.
There’s an added level of comfort between Beckham and I that wasn’t there before and it’s easier to fall into our characters. By the time the scene is done, I realize that I actually had a lot of fun. By the huge grin on Beckham’s face, so did he.
Even the Director looks like he wants to celebrate. “That was perfect, you two,” he gushes. “I couldn’t have asked for a better shot,” he says, high fiving us.
The crew is in such a jubilant mood that’s it’s almost like they’ve forgotten what happened right before we filmed.
If only.
The only person who doesn’t look happy is Beckham’s manager, Rebecca. I see true devastation on her face when Beckham pulls me into a hug, kissing the side of my neck as everyone tries to talk to him. It’s like I’m watching her heart shatter right in front of my eyes.
I don’t know much about Rebecca, so it’s hard for me not to care at all. I tell myself as I cuddle deeper into Beckham’s embrace that she got over him once before...she’ll be able to do it again.
(Beckham)
There’s a strange lightness in my heart that feels unrecognizable as I watch the golden angel in front of me talk about a funny thing one of the crew said today on set. The story is
actually a good one, but I’m too busy absorbing everything about her to really pay attention.
She’s a mystery to me, one that I’m desperate to solve. This last week sucked, I felt like I was walking through a fog, miserable and alone for no reason. Nothing in my life was different as far as I knew, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t get rid of the feeling.
The second I walked into the bar to shoot that scene though, it’s like I became a completely different person. And it was all because of her.
I know her. I don’t know how, but I know that I do. I feel like I know her better than I know myself. I trace the graceful planes of her face; I memorize the sweet smile she gives me as she laughs about a part of the story.
I’m so confused. But I know that whatever I do, I can’t let her go.
My phone buzzes. I glance down and see that it’s Rebecca.
Rebecca: We need to talk.
A second later…
Rebecca: Are you with her?
I power off my phone, not wanting anything to distract me from her. Rebecca and I... are complicated. Nothing has ever happened, but I know she wants it to happen...desperately.
“So, why did you pick this film?” she asks, putting both hands under her chin and looking at me as if I’m the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.
All I want to do is figure out a way to capture this angel’s attention for the rest of my life like this. She’s the exact opposite to the actual angel that I know. While this girl has heaven written all over her, Damon’s far more suited to hell. I wonder what he would think of her?
I once again trace over her features, the blonde hair streaked with gold, the eyes that I feel like I could drown in, the golden skin.
Why is it all so familiar?
“Have you ever been in a movie before?” I ask, ignoring her question for now.
“No, today was my first one.”
“You’ve never been a part of the crew or anything like that?” I push further.
“No,” she says slowly, a hint of confusion in her expression. “Why?”
“I just can’t get it out of my head that I’ve met you before,” I say, reaching out to grab her hands.
