Page 129 of Fever Dream
“Yeah, Teri. I have.”
My head snaps up, following the warm, deep rumble of his voice to the love seat.
Where I find his gaze fixed onme.
“Have what?”
“Found love,” he clarifies, all so that they clip together these bits and make him sound like he’s saying something he’s not.
“Exciting,” Teri coos, leaning forward as though he’s sharing a secret with her and not recording publicly in front of tens of people. “Can you tell us what that feels like for you?”
His eyes don’t leave mine, not even for a second.
“It’s terrifying. Consuming. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”
The air feels too hot. My clothes feel too tight. I glance around me to check if anyone else is picking up on what’s happening here.
He smiles at Teri, finally freeing me from the grip of his stare.
“This is a big step for a guy like you. Going from playing the field so notoriously to thinking you might have met the one. How can you be so sure?”
The one.
He grins, features softening. “Sometimes you just know.”
His eyes dart to mine for a beat before Teri exclaims, “Perfect! We can use all of this. Thanks, Emmett. Take ten while I talk to Evelyn then the two of you can go enjoy yourselves. And maybe even enjoy each other.”
I keep it cool while I watch him behave himself in front of the camera. He graciously thanks Teri for her time and says he’ll be back in ten. Shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of workout shorts slung low enough to reveal the two sharp lines slicing up from his hips, he’s impossible to ignore. Even the producer isn’t above letting her eyes linger just a little too long.
He doesn’t look at me as he passes back toward the bunkhouse. The good humor from that interview has evaporated from his features, and it feels as though he’s avoiding even looking at me after what he just did.
What he just said.
I feel jittery knowing I have to wait until much later tonight to corner him about this.
“Julia?” Ben whispers from beside me as he adjusts the film in his camera. “Can you double-check that we have all the equipment we need in the house? I don’t want Dick Wad to chew my ass out for holding up recording when this is all going so well.”
I bite my tongue and offer him a bright smile. “Of course.”
I’m always a keen, hard worker on set so my agreeing to this isn’t out of the ordinary. But right now, I’m only agreeing because it means I can follow Emmett into the bunkhouse.
I turn, striding across the grass to the front stone patio, past the archway and wine barrel planters, up to the front door.
Catherine is getting her own massages off-site, so the bunkhouse is empty for filming. It was a simpler solution than getting permits and working around a schedule for a spa.
With a deep breath, I push the screen door open and step inside. I’m greeted by the open living space, vaulted ceilings, and Emmett.
Emmett twisting the cap off a water bottle. Tendons in his arms flexing. Veins in his hand bulging. Agitation lining his every movement.
And then his eyes find mine, searing me to the spot.
“What did that water bottle ever do to you?”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a long swig of water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he continues to stare at me.
When he pulls the bottle down, he drags the back of his hand over his mouth, and it reminds me of the way he looks up at me from between my thighs.
Thighs that clench as he shrugs.
