Authors: Cara Dee
"Okay, just your feet left," Sophie murmured, clearing her throat. "Um. I think you can lie down on the canvas."
Tennyson nodded once and walked over to the canvas. The polished concrete floor was already stained with dried paint from previous artwork that had been created here, so he didn’t care about getting more paint on the floor.
He lay down unceremoniously and shifted, his skin sticking to the canvas. At the same time, Sophie slathered paint on the soles of his feet.
"Glad you're not ticklish." She shot him a tiny smirk.
"Are you?" He couldn’t stop himself from asking. "Ticklish, I mean."
"Not under my feet," she quipped and stood up. "I'll get started while you press that director butt on the canvas."
Tennyson pushed himself up on his elbows and tried to focus on the footprints he was making. But as Sophie turned around and carefully pulled her dress over her head, revealing skimpy lace panties and a matching white bra, it wasn’t easy.
"My poor dress. I hope the stains will come out." She…she
fucking
bent over. Her hands slid up the backs of her legs, covered in purple paint, and Tennyson dragged his gaze away with a scowl.
What was wrong with him? Was he so deprived of sex that he felt the need to ogle a young girl? He was going mad. And his concern was morphing into the urge to protect and nurture. Sophie was very thin, and Tennyson didn’t like it.
He was a red-blooded male; he saw every inch of her tight body, enjoyed the sight of her pert ass too much, and was too quick to notice what amazing curves she could have if she only gained a few pounds. But the genuine worry disturbed him more than lust. Lust was shallower—purely physical. Worry meant he cared.
He didn’t want to care.
Shaking his head, Tennyson sighed internally and got on his feet. He squatted down for a beat to leave his handprints and smear out a bit more paint, and then he declared himself done.
"Do you need my help?" he asked quietly, praying she didn’t.
"Only on my back," she answered softly over her shoulder. "The rest is covered."
As if Tennyson couldn’t see that for himself.
He walked up behind her and she handed him the white paint to mix with the purple. In the meantime, Sophie exposed her neck so he could pour the paint there. Tennyson watched the thick liquid trickle down her back. His hands followed, and he traced her spine with the paint.
He was so close that he felt her body heat.
Goose bumps prickled wherever he touched her.
"Cold," she chuckled breathily.
Tennyson swallowed and clenched his jaw, his cock hardening. He switched colors and swept a hand down her back, skipping her ass and continuing along her legs. His thumb brushed over the crease where her knee bent. Then up again, stopping an inch below the smooth, soft-looking cheek of her ass.
"I think you're ready." His voice came out rough and husky, and he stepped back to clear his mind and adjust himself.
Sophie tiptoed over to the canvas and lay down next to the spot where Tennyson had been. He could tell she wasn’t moving around in any way to get his attention, but that only made it more sensual. Sophie was focused on the task, getting on all fours to place her hands on each side of the black print from his shoulders.
Without a word, she got up and retrieved the bowls of paint. She drizzled some right onto the canvas and then got down on hands and knees to smear it out.
"Could you just put your hands a bit more here?" she asked, never facing him.
Tennyson really didn’t want to get any closer, but he had no excuse. None he wanted to voice out loud, anyway. So he joined her on the canvas and followed her lead. He brushed his hand over the subtle heart-shaped print of her ass, catching Sophie's blush out of the corner of his eye.
"Breast man or ass man?" She grinned as the color on her cheeks intensified.
Tennyson tilted his head at her and smirked at the small spot of purple paint on her chin, but what really caught his attention were her eyes. Up close, he saw just how big and expressive they were. They held every shade between green and blue.
Goddamn
.
And her mouth. Her lips looked soft, almost pouty.
"I, uh…"
Snap out of it
. He met her gaze, hoping she couldn’t see the lust in his. "Yes. To both."
"Heh." Sophie giggled shakily and ducked her head.
It was time to stop. He stood up and wrenched away his gaze when the desire became unbearable. There was a sink in the corner, as well as a stand with a thick roll of paper towels—no doubt to use after cleaning brushes—so he occupied himself by wiping off as much paint as possible.
The paint was already drying in places, and he finished his legs first so he could put on his pants. It was uncomfortable as hell, but it was either this or showing Sophie too much of himself.
He was disturbed, wasn’t he?
His reaction couldn’t possibly be related to only Sophie. There had to be something else, too.
"All done," Sophie declared lightly.
Good
, Tennyson thought. She could get dressed now.
By the time he had finished putting on his clothes, Sophie was thankfully back in her dress. They were both stained with paint, and Sophie wore the silliest grin Tennyson had ever seen. Silly cute, silly sexy. Carefree.
"This was fun." She grabbed a prepared frame to tighten the canvas in front of. "I honestly don’t think I've gotten my hands dirty since, like, junior high."
Which wasn’t all that long ago—not from Tennyson's perspective. But he understood what Sophie was saying, and he was glad she'd ignored the inner voices of her friends. They were most likely there in many decisions she made in her everyday life.
"Let me help you." Tennyson forced a casual expression on his face and got to work. The paint was drying quickly, and together they managed to staple the canvas onto the frame. "I have to say it's not bad to look at." It was a complete mess, but it was creative.
If he didn’t know any better, he'd say the two people who'd made it had had a great time creating it. It was erotic in a chaotic, fun way. It held not-so-subtle hints of passion. Prints from hands, feet, and body shapes.
"Let's see what the charity lady thinks, shall we?" Sophie looked a bit nervous now. "I have a feeling it'll either be a hit, or we'll be laughed at."
As it turned out, neither was the case; there were mixed reviews.
When the charity's spokesperson, the café owner, and the reporters rejoined Tennyson and Sophie in the studio, they showed different stages of surprise and confusion. The spotlights came on brighter. The café owner was the first one who smiled widely upon connecting the dots. Her gaze flicked between Tennyson, Sophie, and the painting. The stains said it all, and the spokesperson found it very
interesting
and
unique
.
Tennyson and Sophie exchanged wry smirks at that because they didn’t believe the spokesperson for shit. A few of the reporters worked at various art magazines, and they seemed to like it very much.
Countless flashes of the cameras made Tennyson slide on his shades again, and he idly wondered what the publicists would say about this. His and Sophie's supposed relationship could only be more obvious if they confirmed they were together, which they'd been instructed not to speak a word of. Tennyson and Sophie were supposed to show, not tell.
"Mr. Wright, can we get a photo of you and Sophie by the painting together?" One journalist gestured for Sophie to move away from the spokesperson and get closer to Tennyson, who was holding the upper corner of the painting to keep it from falling.
With all the people in the room, Tennyson's libido had thankfully calmed down, and he had no issue pulling Sophie close. He could say it was only for the reporter's sake, but he'd never been good at lying to himself.
Sophie let out a soft laugh as he yanked her in for a hug. He felt her fingers over his so they both supported the painting. It was almost as sweet as feeling Sophie's forehead against his chest and her free hand settling on his side.
Right at that moment, Tennyson realized he had been too busy worrying and fretting tonight that he had completely forgotten to acknowledge that he'd actually had fun.
When had he become such a dud?
Tennyson lowered his head and, unable to help himself, pressed a brief kiss to Sophie's temple. "Thank you for tonight," he murmured for only her to hear.
Sophie grinned up at him, carefree and so full of youth. "Right back at'cha."
Her eyes were…really out-of-this-world beautiful.
"Ms. Pierce, whose idea was this?" the café owner asked.
The panic that flashed in Sophie's eyes made Tennyson think fast.
"It was mine," he said smoothly. "And can you blame me?" He pressed a kiss to Sophie's forehead, his smirk at the café owner never fading.
"Thank you," Sophie whispered against the collar of his shirt. "The media would only cheapen it if it came from me."
Ah. Tennyson got it now, and he could see the gossip rags playing this off as another scandal from the party princess.
"No worries. Let's get out of here." He touched her cheek and then began to wrap it up with the reporters.
They answered a few more questions, and then they signed the painting before thanking everyone for tonight.
As they reached the café, Tennyson was quietly warned by the spokesperson's assistant that a bunch of paparazzi were waiting outside, but Tennyson had already seen them.
"You don’t happen to have another way out, do you?" he asked under his breath.
The assistant shook his head. "I'm sorry. I already asked, and the back alley is blocked at night."
"All right." Tennyson could see their driver waiting for them, and as he gathered Sophie close and walked over to the door, the driver got out of the SUV to assist. "You ready?"
Sophie nodded. "Yeah, we'll be quick."
The sheer volume of the questions that were being thrown at them as soon as they left the café was almost as bad as the flashes from their cameras.
"Are you really together, Tennyson?"
"Sophie! Over here!"
"Pierce, what about Lachlan?"
Tennyson glared at a reporter for getting too fucking close. Tucking Sophie even closer to his body, he led with his shoulder until their driver met up with them.
"Is it just a publicity stunt?"
"Tennyson! Aren't you afraid her reputation will ruin your career?"
"Back off!" the driver growled.
By the time Tennyson ushered Sophie into the car and dove in himself, he was fucking furious with the paps.
"Are you hiding another man somewhere?" He meant for it to come out teasingly, but he wasn’t sure he pulled it off.
Really, though. He was only curious.
"What?" Sophie was breathing heavily, and it was only now Tennyson realized he was lying right on top of her. "You mean Lachlan? That was just for show—like us."
Right. Like us
. Tennyson's fingers flexed in his grip on Sophie's waist. It didn’t
feel
like a show right now. But as the driver got in behind the wheel, Tennyson knew it was time to get his ass back to reality. His gaze betrayed him and flicked to her pouty lips, and then he forced himself to move.
Fucking Christ, this had to stop.
Chapter 8
"Holy shit," Sophie whispered to herself the next morning.
She'd just woken up by the sun filtering through the window, and she couldn’t stop thinking about last night.
Rolling over, she pressed her face into the pillow and squealed. These days, Sophie was a bundle of confusion and doubts, but last night… She didn’t care about what her friends would think; last night had been
epic
.
From the delicious milk shake and rolling around in wet paint to learning new things about Tennyson and sort of becoming friends with him.
Sophie found it amazing that Tennyson and his brother rescued dogs from horrible conditions, and it made her want to know more, more, and more. After work today, she'd have to sit down and finally Google the man.
And
God
, was he hot or what?
She'd have to be careful with that realization, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy this showmance as long as it lasted. Even though it was unlikely she'd get to see him in only underwear again.
She could always make use of the memory, though.
Showerhead, here I come
. He was like nothing she'd ever been drawn to before, which had been ripped bad boys and surfer dudes decked out in the latest fashions. Tennyson was so solid, had broad shoulders, some dark hair on his chest, and muscular thighs.
Lastly, the night before had been
fun
.
"Rise and shine, Sophie!" Daniel's voice boomed out in the trailer, startling her.
"Are you decent?" He knocked on the door to her little bedroom.
She managed a reply as she sat up in her bed and pulled a tank top on. "Yeah—come in."
Daniel entered, carrying a stack of papers and a bag from a local deli. "Hey, Miss Artypants. You're the talk of Tinseltown today." Sitting down on the edge of her bed, he spread out printouts from all kinds of gossip sites and online magazines. "You're even featured on the front page of
Variety's
website."
A month ago, Sophie would've been thrilled to hear that. There were some sites and rags that always gossiped about her, but
Variety
was a step up from those. They covered real stories, too. They had people working there who were actual journalists. With college degrees and everything.
As it was, this piece of news sunk in with a hint of bitterness. To her, last night hadn't been fake. It had been more real than anything she'd done in a
long
time.
"One fruit cup—no bananas, extra blueberries, no granola." Daniel held out the plastic cup for her, and she accepted it before he dug into the bag again. "Aaand one green tea." He set it on the nightstand.
"Thank you," she said cheekily. Another piece of advice from Daniel had been
"Be generous with saying please and thank you,"
and she was doing well. "There are no comments included here, right?" If there were, she wouldn’t be able to read any of it.
Something softened in Daniel's gaze. "No, darling. No more comments."
"Cool." Sophie dug out her birth control pills from her nightstand and chased one down with her tea. Then she scanned some of the gossip and chewed on a blueberry.
"It looks like the romance between Tennyson Wright and Sophie Pierce is real, after all!"
Sophie suppressed a sigh and read on.
"The two showed up together at an art café to represent Vancouver when the charity project Safe, Wild, and Sound came to town. Sources say the director and the party girl were awfully chummy, and the photos don’t disagree this time!"
She picked up the printout and looked at the photos of her and Tennyson. Unlike the shots from their first dinner where they looked angry—not counting the few where Tennyson fed Sophie—these were completely different. They were smiling, for one. And their interaction wasn’t forced.
Glancing at another printout, Sophie read on when she saw it focused on Tennyson.
"…so could Sophie be blowing some life into the reclusive Tennyson? We're all familiar with his masterpieces, but the director leads a quiet life when he's not working. We haven't really seen much of him since he broke it off with author Trisha Cummings, and…"
"What does this Trisha woman write?" Sophie asked. It was the first time she'd heard of her, and she was curious. "How did they meet? Is she gorgeous?"
"We've reached out to Tennyson's reps, but no comment yet."
The rest of the article was about his movies and his brother's work with rescue dogs. There was even a photo of Tennyson and Asher, and Tennyson was sitting down and had his arm around an Amstaff with its ears covered in bandages.
"Hmm, let's see…" Daniel was scrolling down on his phone. "They met when he was signed on to direct a film based on one of her thrillers. Here's a photo of the two of them."
Sophie leaned over and something twisted in her stomach. The photo was taken at a red-carpet event, and Tennyson was all suited up, his arm around a lovely redhead. She was his age, and she only had eyes for him. Sophie couldn’t see Tennyson's eyes because he was wearing his shades, but he had a faint smile on his lips and his head was turned in her direction.
"You can check more of this later, but you're due on set soon," Daniel told her. "Into the shower with you."
Sophie sighed and left her bed, pausing when Daniel made a noise.
"What?" she asked.
"Why is your back red? Do you have a rash?"
Oh. Heh. "No, I just had some paint to scrub off." She grinned to herself and disappeared into the bathroom.
*
By lunch, Sophie had managed to push aside her personal life. She'd been in a small scene with Chris, who'd dragged her down a hallway in what was supposed to be a college dorm. The next scene they were going to shoot took place right before Chris found her.
Lunch was a little longer today so the art department could get the dorm room ready.
Sitting at a picnic table outside with Claire, Noah, Brooklyn, and the two guys she'd be working with later, she went through her lines and shut out the world by listening to music. Her pink earbuds blared some old rock song that helped her get in the right mind-set. In fact, she had a whole playlist now that was titled "Anna," the character she was portraying.
She'd gotten the idea for the playlist from Claire, who was often seen wearing headphones as she studied the script.
"It's my birthday, Dad,"
she mouthed the line to herself and swiped up a carrot stick from her lunch tray.
"Do you know what that means? For one…the day should be about me. And two…I'm eighteen now. You have no fucking say."
Someone gently shook her shoulder, so she removed an earbud to see Brooklyn was trying to get her attention.
"Time to touch up your makeup, honey," Brooklyn told her.
"Got it." Sophie nodded and grabbed her water, following Brooklyn toward hair and makeup. As she passed the large entrance to the set, she saw Tennyson leaning against the metal sliding door. He was on the phone, but it looked like he was watching her. She couldn’t be sure, though. Damn shades. Damn ball cap.
Had he gone to the University of Michigan or something?
Taking her seat in the makeup trailer, she let Brooklyn work her magic. Sophie's hair was messy with hairspray, makeup was smeared under her eyes, and she had hickeys and needle marks on her arms. Timeline-wise, it was about two months after she'd last seen her sister outside her boyfriend's school, and everything had gone downhill for Sophie's character.
"Hey, guys." Marcus, the model slash actor who was in the next scene, sat down in another chair, and one of Brooklyn's girls got started with him.
Samuel followed soon, the second guy who'd be in the scene. He was an up-and-coming actor, and he'd gotten some good reviews in the few movies he'd starred in so far. He was in his mid-twenties, Sophie guessed, and she wondered why she wasn’t going nuts over him.
Their shirts came off, and fake ink was applied.
Yeah, Sophie should be all over that.
"Mmhmm." Brooklyn raised a brow in the mirror, having caught Sophie staring. Only, Brooklyn got it wrong. "I'm with ya, girl."
Not really
. Sophie had gawked, wondering why the fuck she'd rather see someone stockier, someone with chest hair, a beard hiding two dimples…
blah
.
Head in the game
, Sophie thought and closed her eyes. She was here to impress as an actress.
*
Some time later, Sophie stood with Steph—the second AD—in the middle of the staged dorm room getting ready for the scene. Tennyson was speaking to Noah and the single cameraman, and someone else was giving Samuel and Marcus instructions.
"You know you can use an herbal cigarette, right?" Steph left a pack of Marlboro Lights on the nightstand.
"It's fine." Sophie didn’t wanna tell Steph she'd smoked in the past. Or that it had been because smoking sometimes made it easier to lose weight.
"Okay, everyone ready?" Tennyson asked, his gaze landing on Sophie.
Sophie nodded and turned toward the bed. She'd done the G-rated version of sex scenes before, but this was a whole other ballpark, and it wasn’t even a real sex scene. However, all of her would be exposed, aside from a black thong.
"Quiet on the set!" Noah yelled.
Sophie handed her robe to Steph, who was the last to leave the set. Joining Samuel and Marcus on the bed, she positioned herself in the middle and rested her head on Samuel's chest.
"You look good there," he whispered.
She refrained from rolling her eyes, too focused on nailing the scene. Not him.
Marcus scooted closer behind her and draped an arm over her.
"Camera rolling!"
The assistant with the clapboard announced the production, the scene, and the shot, and then Tennyson said action.
Sophie stayed still for a few seconds before she let out a breath and stretched tiredly. As Marcus slid his hand up to cup her breast, she made a sleepy noise and lifted her head slowly, as if it were heavier than a truck.
Blinking blearily, she rubbed her eyes and squinted at the alarm clock.
"Too early," Samuel muttered drowsily and tried to pull her down again. She let him fondle her and kiss her neck, but she kept glancing over at the clock. "How about round three?" Samuel shifted her around until she was straddling him, his hands moving farther up her thighs.
"I gotta get out of here," she said quietly, clearing her throat. "You go back to sleep."
Marcus hummed and reached for her. "It's not the same thing to share a bed with this dude unless there's a girl between us."
"Fuck off." Sophie batted away their hands and dragged her body out of bed. "You keep tellin' yourself that—that you didn’t join us last night 'cause you're hot for your roommate." She picked up the cigarettes, lighting one up. "Where's my…" She found her ratty T-shirt from last night and threw it on.
"Dude…" Samuel raised a brow at Marcus.
"She's trippin'," Marcus chuckled lazily.
Sophie gave the guys a flat stare, not satisfied until the two guys settled down to catch more sleep.
Taking a drag from the smoke, she eyed the small room and quirked up the corners of her mouth as she saw the guys' jeans. She made sure they weren't looking and then tiptoed over to clean out their wallets.
"Cut!"
Sophie straightened and waited for Tennyson's verdict. The scene wasn’t over just yet, so she was nervous she'd fucked up.
"That was good." He came over and nodded shortly, and Sophie breathed a sigh of relief. "We'll take it from 'tripping.'" His gaze lingered, his brows furrowed, but of course Sophie couldn’t see his eyes. Then he shook his head quickly and turned to the cameraman. "I want the focus on her emptying the wallets. Bring it in for me. Oh, and Samuel?" He cocked a brow at Sophie's costar. "The mics pick up everything. That includes cheap pickup lines to an actress who's trying to work."
There was an odd sense of satisfaction and gratitude that coursed through Sophie.
"My bad." Samuel showed his palms.
They ended up doing that part of the scene twice more because Sophie requested the last take. She felt she could do better, and Tennyson looked pleased with the result. Then they moved on. The acoustics weren't right for Chris's character to yell his daughter's name in the hallway outside the dorm, so it had been prerecorded.
"Roll sound!" Noah shouted. "Roll camera!"
Sophie got ready and bent over to pick up her discarded denim skirt.
"Action."
Sucking in a breath, Sophie yanked on her skirt hurriedly. She peeked over at the sleeping guys and shoved the crumpled bills she'd stolen into her pockets. Next, she froze when the sound of Chris's angry voice rang out.
"Anna! Anna Miller!"
Her head snapped up, and this had roused the men from their sleep.
"Someone you know?" Samuel yawned.
"It's…it's my dad," she mumbled. She opened the door and poked her head out.