I contemplated his words for a long moment, then kissed the hollow of his throat to soften my words. “You were the one who wanted nothing to do with me, remember?”
“No,” he corrected. “I wanted everything to do with you. I just didn’t think I could have it.”
We both went quiet as the truth of that settled between us.
There hadn’t been much talking after that. Lucas wrapped his body even tighter around mine. The man liked to know I was there as he slept, and that meant he had to have me completely confined. More often than not, I woke up to having him sprawled across my back and pinning me to the mattress.
This morning there’d been mutual shower blow jobs, before I raced home to feed Optimus, give him some petting in recompense for ignoring him, and change my clothes before speeding to the set. Marc Bergman had called an entire cast and crew meeting without giving us a hint as to what was going on.
By the time I got there, I was a few minutes late, but I wasn’t the only straggler so I didn’t worry about it. We all gathered on the bullpen set. It was the only place big enough to have a meeting with everyone, and there were enough chairs and desks so that everyone could find a place to perch. I moseyed over to where Lucas, Dan, and MA were lounging at Rourke and Geary’s double desk, and propped my hip against the edge.
“Any idea what’s going on?” I asked in a low voice.
“Not a clue,” MA answered. I didn’t like the worry I saw in her eyes. I raised a questioning brow, but she just shook her head and pressed her lips together.
“Last time he called one of these meetings, it was to tell us about the romance storyline,” Lucas offered, looking me in the eye. “She’s worried about what other shake-up might be coming.”
MA punched him hard in the arm. Lucas barely flinched, but I saw the wince. I grinned.
“Or, you know, they could be telling us that this is our last season and when we finish shooting, we’re done.” MA’s voice was low and serious. Lucas clapped a hand over her mouth, looking utterly scandalized.
“Blasphemer,” Dan breathed. Then he shook his head. “If we get canceled, you know it’s going to be your fault now.”
MA managed to struggle out of Lucas’s grip and shoved him away. She scowled at all of us. “You’re the one who said the words out loud. You’re all a bunch of assholes.”
“What did I do?” I protested. MA opened her mouth to retort, but our attention was drawn to the front of the room.
“Everybody here?” Marc called out as he climbed up on to the captain’s desk. I thought it was overly dramatic, but at least up there, he could see everyone and his voice would carry. “Okay, I’ll keep this short.”
“Yeah, right,” someone behind me called out, and everybody laughed. It helped to ease the tension that had been building. Marc laughed along and then raised his hands for quiet.
“Okay, so here’s what’s going on. Two things you all need to be aware of. First off, something that’s been in the works for a while now, but we’ve finally managed to work out all the details. Brandon Culpepper is joining us for the rest of the season. I hope you’ll all make him feel welcome.”
There was a general murmur of excitement. Brandon Culpepper was a fantastic character actor who was in high demand. Every role I’d seen him portray had been fantastic, and he’d won a Golden Globe last year for his work on an HBO mini-series. It was a coup to get him to sign on with our show.
“As the serial killer?” I whispered to no one in particular. The major arc to the crime aspect of the show had been a serial killer plaguing Seattle. In between all the other cases Rourke and Geary were working, they were tracking him down. There had been no leads, but I knew the upcoming scripts for the last eight episodes heavily featured the killer.
Dan nodded. “Gotta be. How fucking awesome is that?”
Marc gestured for silence again and it was almost immediately given. “Let me just get this other thing out, and then we all need to get our asses back to work.” His glare was stern, but then he totally ruined it by smiling. “We’re going to start some controlled leaks about the upcoming season. The first ep airs in nine weeks, and we want the buzz. We want our viewers glued to their TVs every Wednesday at nine o’clock.
“That means that in addition to the killer attacking fair Seattle, there will also be promos about Geary and Cates.” Marc paused and took a breath. “Whatever your personal feelings, and I don’t fucking care what they are, you will treat this with respect and tow the company line. I have faith in each and every one of you. Do not let me down.”
With that, Marc climbed off the desk and strode through the set, heading for his office. The tension broke, people started moving, and I turned to my companions.
“Well, then.” What else could I say?
Dan gave a low whistle. “The shit’s going to hit the fan. The media is going to go crazy, the supportive fans are going to go fucking insane with glee, and the right wing is going to blow a gasket.”
“We knew that was coming,” MA said with an indifferent shrug. “They won’t care that a serial killer is hacking people into little bits and displaying their entrails. What they are going to get angry about is two men kissing. How stupid is that?”
“Pretty damn stupid,” I responded, and Dan made a murmur of agreement.
Lucas was suspiciously quiet. When I gave him a nudge, he shook his head and his eyes cleared. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”
He turned and walked away. I wasn’t having that. I wanted to know what was going on in his head. I followed him right to his dressing room and shut the door behind me. He was staring at the far wall, his fist clenched at his sides.
“Lucas?”
He turned and tried to give me a smile. It didn’t quite work. “They’re going to think you’re with him. The fans. They’ll think you’re actually with Dan. Instead of Friley fics, we’re going to start seeing Daaron fics. The rumors are going to be insane.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, because he was right. That was how being in the public eye worked. Fans were going to dissect every interaction I’d had with Dan and make up all sorts of details confirming their suspicions. It had happened a hundred times over. Sometimes it was even blatantly true. “That bothers you.”
“You’re mine,” he ground out. “Not his. Mine.”
“Yeah, I am.” I closed the distance between us fast and put my hands on his face. “Try not to let it get to you. We know the truth, and that’s what matters, right?”
He blew out a breath, his anger dissipating with the action. “Yeah. I’ll try.”
“Good boy,” I teased. He growled, and that made me laugh. “Now kiss me and get to work.”
Unsurprisingly, he was very good at taking direction.
* * * *
I had the day off, and I’d spent it lounging in sweatpants with Optimus in my lap and reading the new script. Everyone else was on set, finishing up the last shoots for the episode. Tonight, there’d be the party at DeLorio’s and then, for once, we all had three days off before shooting began again on Monday.
I was riveted to the page. Even knowing the basic arc of where the story was going to end up for the rest of the season, this script in particular was fraught with tension and emotion. It was smart and sharp, the dialogue fantastic, and the fans were going to go wild when it aired.
When my phone rang, I answered it without looking at the caller ID.
“Did you fucking see this script?” Lucas ground out, his rage coming in loud and clear.
I had to bite my lip so he couldn’t hear my smile when I spoke. “Yes, dear.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
It didn’t require an answer, not really. I knew Lucas didn’t have a problem with the killer finally making an onscreen appearance, or the way the psychopath spoke and acted. What Lucas had an issue with was page twenty-seven.
“Lucas.” I tried for soft and calm, but he was having none of it.
“You’re having sex w
ith him!” he exploded. He was breathing hard, and I swear I could hear the creak of plastic from where he was gripping the phone. I was sure that was my imagination, but I knew how pissed off he was right now.
Really, I shouldn’t be turned on by his possessiveness. But I was. My cock started thickening in my pants, and I shoved the cat off my lap. I could just imagine what Lucas looked like right now, all red faced and angry, and the mental image was a sight to see. He was gorgeous, and he was mine.
“Honey,” I said softly. “It’s not real.”
“I know that,” he grumbled.
I fought the chuckle for all I was worth. “It’s a TV show. We’ll be wearing underwear. There will be a ton of people around. It’s not real.”
“I know,” he ground out, his frustration clearly rising.
“Do you know why it’s not real?” I continued, my voice dropping. “Because the only one I get naked with is you. The only one I touch is you. You’re the only one who gets to see me like that, needy and desperate. Begging. Wanting.”
He whimpered. Honest to God whimpered, and I knew I had him. I slid my hand into my pants and starts stroking, my dick going from semi-hard to fully erect with just a few touches.
“Are you done shooting for the day?”
“Yeah.” His voice was low. “Baby, did you mean it?”
“That it’s not real?” I asked, surprised. “Of course.”
“No,” he said with a pained sound. I heard him suck in a breath. “The other stuff.”
Oh. Shit. When I said those things I’d been trying to talk him down from his anger, not wanting him to get himself too worked up. But it only took me a moment’s contemplation to realize that yes, I did mean it. Completely. We’d never had the exclusivity talk because I knew he wasn’t going to do anything with anyone else. I had assumed he thought the same about me.
“Yes, Lucas. I absolutely mean it.”
There was that tiny whimper again, and everything in me melted. I wanted him here and in my arms, to show him with my body exactly how much I meant what I said.
“Well, except for my own hand, of course.” I was teasing him and I knew it. “I have my hand on my dick right now, just thinking about you. Thinking about the way you touch me.”
There was a beat of silence, and then he growled at me. “Take your hand off your cock. Save that for me. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
He hung up before I could respond. I finally let my laugh escape, but I also did as he asked. As satisfying as a quick jack would be, it would be so much better if he were here to take care of it for me. Lucas had learned the art of making my body sing. It was to my benefit to wait for him.
I lured Optimus into the bathroom and shut the door. That way he wouldn’t interrupt us. Then I headed for my bedroom and the lube. I was ramped up, and I knew Lucas would be raring to go the minute he crossed the threshold. The least I could do was be ready for him. I wanted it fast and hard, and I knew Lucas would be willing to oblige. Sometimes a little jealousy was a good thing.
Chapter 10
Interviews kind of sucked. Actually, I hated them immensely, but they were a necessary evil. I hated being on the spot like that, and I always felt like I was fumbling with what to say. Give me a script and I was fine, but one on one and off the cuff, I floundered.
A few well-placed comments on social media by the show’s publicity team, and the Internet had come alive with the news that Riley Cates and Frank Geary would have a relationship that featured heavily in the upcoming season. As a result, Dan and I had been booked for a few morning shows. I was thankful I had him with me in the interviews. He was funny and charming and took the heat off me. Besides, every show we’d done had been for our network or an affiliate and none of the interviewers had strayed from the prescribed questions. It had been fairly painless for me, but I’d been gone for two days. By the time I made it back to Seattle, Lucas had already left for LA. Dan had flown from New York directly there, and the two of them were making another circuit of talk shows.
I wished publicity had scheduled it differently because I missed Lucas.
He’d called to tell me he’d made it to his place safely and that his travel had been fine. He still owned a condo in LA and, even though he had someone taking care of it while he was gone, he was glad to be back there and check on things himself. He’d invited me to join him, but I was shooting for the next three days and, by then, he’d be back. It was shitty timing, but there was nothing we could do about it.
Down the block from my apartment was a tiny coffee shop that had the world’s best coffee, and that was saying something since Seattle as a whole won the coffee competition. I didn’t even put in my usual creamer and sugar, it was that good. I’d been going there from the moment that I’d rented my place, and I loved walking into the little shop and soaking up the atmosphere. It was unusually quiet there this morning, and I walked straight to the counter and smiled at the cute barista who was idly wiping down the machines.
I ordered a regular black coffee. The barista was efficient and handed over my cup within moments. But when he went to hand me back my change, his eyes widened and he went still.
“Holy crap,” he murmured. “You’re Riley Cates!”
I chuckled. I didn’t get recognized that often because I wasn’t a huge name on the show. But whenever I did, I almost always got called by my character’s name instead of my own. I put on my best public smile and held out my hand.
“Aaron Zeller, nice to meet you.”
He took it and held on instead of shaking it, his brown eyes wide and fixed on my face. “Oh my God. This is awesome.” His voice was breathy. Then he shook his head, turned beet red, and seemed to realize what he was doing. He pulled his hand away and grinned widely. “I think it’s great that you’re gay.”
Okay, that was a little weird. “Um, thank you?”
“Shit,” he muttered. His blush impossibly darkened. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I mean, I think it’s great that your character is gay and that there is going to be a gay relationship on the show. I know that the conservatives are going fucking crazy over it, but don’t let it get you down. I think this is really important.”
There’d been a lot of buzz over the last week, and the barista was right. The conservative right was having a field day, screaming about the show. My smile turned real. “Thanks, man. I do, too.”
“Would you…” He stuttered to a stop, then took a deep breath like he was shoring up his confidence. He pushed a napkin toward me and then grabbed a pen from the top of the register, holding it out. “Can I have your autograph?”
Now, that was a first. Mostly people just wanted to take selfies with me so they could plaster them on Facebook and Instagram. I took the pen. “Of course. What’s your name?”
“Jake,” he answered.
“Well, Jake,” I said as I scribbled a short message and my messy signature on the napkin. “Believe me when I say it was a pleasure to meet you. And thanks.”
“Thank you.” Jake picked up the napkin and stared at it adoringly for a split second before he shoved it into the pocket of his half-apron. I gave him a wave and another smile before I turned and headed out of the shop.
It was a short walk back home, and it wasn’t raining for once. Even still, I was so in the habit of changing the minute I got home that I shucked my jeans and long sleeves for a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. I was just slipping my feet into the slippers Lucas had given me while simultaneously taking a big gulp of coffee, when my cell started ringing. I jerked and nearly burned myself with scalding liquid, but I finally managed to get my feet under me and the coffee set on the nightstand just in time to answer the phone before it went to voice mail.
“Hello?”
“Hey, baby.”
Oh, God, he sounded good. I loved the low timbre of his voice when he was speaking to me. “Hi. How are you? How are things?”
“Good,” he answered, and I could hear his smile. Then his voice dropped even low
er when he added, “I miss you.”
My knees nearly gave out right then and there. He was such a fucking sweetheart. “I miss you, too.”
He cleared his throat. “You done for the day?”
“Yep.” I grabbed my coffee and padded into the living room. I made a beeline for the couch as I continued, “I was only scheduled for one scene this morning, and since Vincent is back, we got it done in pretty short order. Tomorrow I’m with second unit for most of the day, though, so it’ll be a whole other thing.”
“Yeah, I bet.” Lucas didn’t say anything else for a long moment. Then he cleared his throat again. “What’s the weather like up there?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “It’s a balmy seventy degrees or so. Why do you ask?”
His responding chuckle was warm. “So your feet are freezing, huh? I swear, sometimes when you get into bed, I think you bring blocks of ice with you.”
That did funny things to my insides, hearing him talk about us that way. For all that he kept me at arm’s length in public, he had no qualms about expressing his feelings when it was just us. I loved that about him.
“Well, they are nice and toasty right now because I’m wearing the slippers you gave me,” I said. I did not miss the pleased sound he made, so I added, “You always have a way of warming my feet up.”
“Not just your feet, I hope,” he growled. I shivered, and pressed the phone closer to my ear. God, no. Not just my feet. He could heat my blood with just a look and a few words. But there was no use getting worked up when he wasn’t here to do anything about it. I calmed myself with a few deep breaths, and that’s when I noticed the weird noise in the background.
“What’s that noise? Are you driving?” My tone was heavy with disapproval. He knew how dangerous I thought talking on a cell phone was while driving.
“Using the Bluetooth, I swear,” he answered fast. I believed him, because now that I knew he was in the car, I recognized the sound. “Have you talked to your parents lately?”
I frowned in confusion at the abrupt change of topic, but I went with it. “Yeah, just yesterday. Mom went on for a half an hour about the neighbor’s dog, and Dad said to say hi to you for him.”
Something Like Hope Page 8
