Page 72 of Love Unscripted
That stung. She felt it sharp and immediate.
“So I’m dramatic all of a sudden.” Her voice shook despite her effort to steady it. “What is it, Aaron? We were having such a good time the last few days. Are you feeling guilty for being happy? Are you angry because you’re feeling too much for me—is that it?”
The way he looked up at her told her everything.
“Oh my gosh. That’s it, isn’t it?” She stepped closer. “You’d rather hold a séance for your late wife. Bury your heart. And the moment you begin to feel again, you run for the hills.”
He shot to his feet. “That is enough!” he said, chest heaving.
She took two bold steps forward until their faces were inches apart, heat and tension crackling between them. “I’m only getting started. Be honest with me!”
“You want honesty, I’ll give you honesty,” he said—and pulled her roughly to him.
His mouth crashed down on hers, hard and desperate, and she barely had time to gasp before she was kissing him back. The kiss was rough, consuming. His hands gripped her shoulders as if anchoring himself, as if she were the only solid thing left in the room. She moaned softly, helpless against the press of his body, the urgency of his mouth.
Her fingers slid into his hair. His arms wrapped around her, crushing her to him.
“Oh, Camille… Camille,” he whispered.
When he finally forced himself to stop, his breath was ragged. He looked at her—and then kissed her again, slower this time, devastating in its restraint.
When they eventually drew apart, he leaned back against the table and drew her between his legs.
“That was precisely the opposite of what I was supposed to do,” he said, brushing her hair behind her ears and framing her face with his hands.
“Why?”
He sighed, gaze drifting to a corner of the room. “Ray told me people are starting to talk about our chemistry off set. He also mentioned that someone took pictures of us last Saturday. He suggested we need to be careful—lest we draw the wrong kind of publicity.”
She leaned into him, fingers absently playing with the buttons of his shirt. A dangerous, delicious thought crossed her mind—of unfastening every one of them, of discovering what lay beneath. His body was firm, toned. Tempting.
“I thought all publicity is good publicity,” she teased.
“I know you don’t believe that.”
She laughed softly. “Maybe not. But it’s not as if either of us is married.”
He covered her hands with his, stilling them. She felt the tension in him, the restraint.
“Camille… I was madder at myself than at Ray. I need to protect you. You’ve already been embroiled in a scandal. I don’t want to add to the perception that you get romantically involved with every man you work with.”
“Is that what people think?”
He gave her a deadpan look. “You have to admit the evidence is compelling.”
She began to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Don’t get defensive. Look at it through their eyes. First the teen drama—you dated your co-star. ThenShadow Peak—your producer. NowEsther.”
“Is that what you really think of me, Aaron?”
“I don’t know, Camille. I don’t want to believe it, but—”
She shook her head. “What I feel for you is nothing like what I felt before. The first was childish. The second—I mistook infatuation for love. Simon loved himself. You are nothing like him. You are good. Kind. Honorable.” Her voice softened. “My feelings for you are real. I’m not rebounding. If you think it’s too soon—you’re wrong. It’s not soon enough. Frankly I wish I had met you years ago rather than Simon.”
“Years ago, I was married,” he said with a faint smile.
“Oh—I didn’t mean—”
