Love Unrehearsed (22 page)

Darius just rolled his eyes. “Girl, paleeze. If I had a boyfriend like that, there is no way I’d let some ho be all up on him. Then again, one taste of these lips and he’d never go back.”

Visualizing Ryan’s reaction to Darius’s claim was equally entertaining.

“Ah, I don’t think Taryn has to worry about Nicole. Ryan Christensen isn’t her type,” Dina said with a wink, pinning the hem on a pair of pants. After that comment, she now had my total attention.

Darius’s face puckered. “Whaaat? Honey—gay, straight, that man is
everyone’s
type.”

I smirked at Darius.

“Not if you prefer women over men, he isn’t,” Dina muttered.

My head shot up.

Darius looked surprised. “Dee, I didn’t know you were a homegirl!”

“What? No, not me . . . Nicole,” Dina corrected. “Rumor has it that she prefers the company of women.”

“Oh no you did not just out her,” Darius squealed.

Something inside of me suddenly wanted to cheer, finding this new information to be most comforting. I needed more.

Dina removed the straight pin tucked between her lips and shrugged. “That’s the rumor going around.” Dina’s walkie-talkie screeched. She pulled the radio from her hip holster.

“Is Ms. Mitchell with you?” the voice asked.

Dina held the radio to her mouth. “Yes she is.”

A few moments later, a young man wearing khaki pants and a green hoodie whisked me away on a golf cart. I was paired up with Ryan’s stand-in for another lighting check. I was told that Nicole’s stand-in had completely succumbed to the stomach flu, but I still questioned Jonathan’s true motives for selecting me as her replacement. Regardless, it didn’t matter; I was having a ton of fun being with Ryan.

The following morning we drove into an industrial part of the city that was not at all located where I thought he would be filming today. The building we pulled up to was long and squat, with security fencing surrounding the parking lot.

Ryan’s fingers were woven with mine but I could tell his mind was elsewhere. I knew what was on the shooting schedule today and he was so distant and quiet, he was practically mute.

Mike escorted us quickly from the car, leading us to one of the camper trailers parked nearby.

I set my laptop bag and purse down and sat at the small dinette, dreading this day worse than open-heart surgery without sedatives. It was time to break our comfortable silence.

“I don’t know how this usually works. Do you want me to wait in here today? I will if you’re going to be uncomfortable.”

Ryan stood there, staring at me.

I stared back, waiting for his decision. “Just be honest.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, eyeing everything but me for the moment. “I want you there and then a part of me doesn’t. It’s a closed set but . . . Think you can handle it?”

My first instinct was to scream “no” very loudly. Images of him executing the dreaded scene were flashing through my thoughts. What was I supposed to say?
Oh yeah, no problem. I can’t wait to see you making pretend love to Nicole. It’s been on my to-do list, actually.
Fortunately I reined in my self-preservationist sarcastic thoughts.

He pulled a can of soda out of the small refrigerator and popped the tab open for me. “Gauging by your lack of immediate response, I think you need to be there. This—stuff—is all a part of acting, Taryn, and maybe if you see that it’s nothing more than choreographed pretending, then maybe . . .” His eyes locked on mine. “I just . . . I just don’t want what happened in Florida to ever repeat itself.”

“Ryan . . .” My gut twisted. Memories of standing in a downpour watching what I thought was him cheating on me with Lauren Delaney when in fact he was filming were so vivid I swear I could feel a drop of rain trickle down my spine.

Ryan sat down and took my hand in his. “You had another one of your nightmares this morning and I think I know why. We’ve talked about this already. You’re my soul mate, Tar. Maybe if you see all of the preparations that go into filming a scene like this and all of the people standing around watching us, you’ll know it has nothing to do with sex. It’s just an uncomfortable illusion.”

I swallowed some of my doubt, trying not to have any of it fly out of my mouth, knowing that the black-haired boy with bloodied teeth was the cause of me waking up on a gasp. “I know it’s fake. It’s not like you’re going to go over there and actually do it with her.”

“That’s right. I’m not. It’s all pretend. You know that this is my job and scenes like this are going to be in my movies. I just don’t want you to end up hating me because I have to fake it with other women.”

If only faking it didn’t include actual skin-to-skin contact. We locked eyes. “Truthfully, I don’t know what to expect and I’m a little scared. I can’t help it.”

His eyes softened. His fingers caressed my wrist. “Okay, let’s talk about it. What are you scared of?”

“This is all new to me. I’m not
accustomed
to the idea of having the person I’m involved with do that sort of stuff with someone else in front of me. And things are good with us now but what if we’re having a rough patch and then you and someone else and the temptation and kissing . . .”

His hand covered mine, softly stroking his thumb over my knuckles. “I won’t be tempted. Trust me.”

On some level I believed him. I’d observed him long enough to know that Ryan never, ever looked at other women, even when they were standing on top of him.

“It’s one of my biggest fears.”

He straightened my engagement ring. “I know. But keep in mind that I’ve already kissed my fair share and now I’ve found the only woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

His playful smile helped me relax.

“Okay.” I grinned.

“So you’re not going to get jealous when I have to kiss someone else?”

I chuckled with uncertainty. “I can’t promise that. My jealousy comes from being madly in love with you. As long as it only happens when the cameras are rolling, I’ll be okay. It’s just . . . I need you to understand if I can’t handle it right away. I mean, I’ve seen you kiss Suzanne and—”

“Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up. I want to show you something.”

I slid out of the booth.

Ryan gripped my hips, pulling me closer. “I want to show you the difference between a movie kiss and a real kiss.”

“There’s a difference?”

He nodded. “Oh yeah.” His warm hands lifted my face, his eyes focused on my mouth. “This is a movie kiss. Ready?”

I felt his closed lips touch mine as if he were only kissing me to be kind. When his mouth opened, I followed him. Kissing him like this was kind of weird and actually rather frustrating, like we were doing an unfamiliar dance or an awkward first-date kiss when you were really trying to avoid kissing the guy. “Uh-uh. No tongue,” he corrected.

“No tongue?” I repeated into his opened mouth.

“Never.” Ryan pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “Now
this
is how I kiss my fiancée.”

His hand slid into my hair, cradling the back of my head. His kiss consumed me. Desire to suck and chew on his hypnotic mouth had me making little whimpering noises. The moment his tongue brushed and swirled with mine, I felt tingles all the way down to my panties.

“I know you love me,” I murmured, drifting my hands into the back of his pants, underneath the elastic band, and over his amazing sculpted ass, “but it’s going to kill me to see you make love to someone else.”

I felt him tense ever so briefly. “I will never make love to someone else, Tar. Only you,” he purred, his tongue quite preoccupied swirling with mine.

I pushed his pants down low on his hips and scraped my teeth over his bottom lip. “Promise?”

He snickered in my mouth. “It was in the fine print when you agreed to marry me, sweetheart.”

Ryan lifted my ID set badge, separating our kiss long enough to remove it over my head. With a devilish grin, his fingers curled under the front of my T-shirt, pulling it up so it was over my head but still wrapped around my upper arms, cinching them back. “And our contract
will
be binding.”

He swirled a fingertip under the edge of my lace bra and tugged one side down, seeking out an already aroused nipple with his wet tongue. Fire shot through my body.

“Ryan . . .” I gulped hard from the sensation of his careful attention to both of my breasts. It was difficult to speak.

“Bed,” he breathed his desire, towing me in a rush down the short, narrow hallway.

It took him slightly longer to undress, fumbling to toe off his shoes while stripping off his pants, so I crawled onto the bed and waited. Considering we only had twenty minutes, I had expected he’d want to skip all the foreplay and jump right into it, so it surprised me a little when he took his good old time.

It was so sensual, him kissing me like this, allowing me to pant in his mouth as if he needed my sighs to breathe. He drew my bottom lip into his mouth, grazing it through his teeth, cradling me in his arm while his thigh had my leg pinned. I was so aroused by his touch, fingers gliding with deliberate effort while the heel of his hand applied just the right amount of pressure. His thumb danced in a firm circle, then heel, then thumb again. I wanted to explode then and there.

God, if he actually had to go film a real scene like this with Nicole I’d have to fucking kill her with my bare hands first. For a split second I actually envisioned doing that. There would be no way in hell I’d ever allow another woman to feel his expert touch.

I could hear my own moans getting louder, more breathless, as I writhed with each slip. I was just about there, seconds away from spilling over the edge, when he withdrew his fingers and stopped.
What? Nooooo!
I mentally cursed him for not finishing me off first.
And I was so close, too.

But instead, Ryan grabbed my thigh and shifted my hip so I was on my side, his chest warming my back, replacing the void with something much longer, thicker. I reached back, running my hand into his hair, feeling his groans, his breath on my neck as he pressed tenderly, allowing my body to adjust around him.

“Oh God you feel good.” His forearm squeezed my rib cage and his hand palmed my breast, stroking into me with renewed force, returning me dangerously close to that edge again.

His left hand twined with mine, unifying us as one as he made love to me. Just when I thought he would slip out and roll me somewhere else on the bed, he pressed back in. Slowly, methodically, from tip to total; over and over again, driving me crazy.

His moistened fingers returned and splayed me open, rolling swirls over my sensitive skin with each thrust.

As he picked up the pace, I held the breath in my lungs, unable to breathe at any normal rate, feeling the intense sensations of my orgasm rolling to a peak.

“That’s it. Let it go. Come on baby . . .”

I was giving myself a headache from squeezing my eyes so hard, feeling the crescendo of orgasm. His deep thrusts were unrelenting, pounding into me over and over again. I cried out from the sensations breaking over me in waves, practically choking myself as they hit. I coughed out onto the comforter as I buried my face into the bed.

Ryan’s presses slowed; his fingers continued to rub, milking additional shudders out of me.

“Ah . . . good one,” he crooned softly, proudly, still swirling gently inside of me. He kissed my shoulder softly.

I turned back to him, receiving a long kiss before he slipped out and relocated my body to the edge of the bed.

“You have no idea how incredibly beautiful you look right now,” Ryan growled. His hands gripped my legs below the crease of my knees, pressing my thighs back, staring down at me with both admiration and lust. He rocked my legs, lifting my rear and raking my insides at different glorifying angles.

But the clock on the wall told another story, one of him being out of time. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone rapped loudly on the outside door. I watched the pleasure on his face harden as he slammed into me with more vigor.

“Hang on!” Ryan yelled out over his shoulder. “Son of a . . . I just need five more minutes,” he breathed out, pumping harder. His hands hit the mattress, pressing my thighs back as far as they could go, practically bending me in half to climb up inside of me. A light sweat beaded on his forehead. “Can you go again?” he asked, breathing hard, clasping one hand around my ankle.

I couldn’t believe his question! We were in the midst of filming a multimillion-dollar movie, someone was banging their fist on his trailer door to escort him to set, and his greatest concern was whether I could achieve another orgasm? God love the man for trying.

I pushed his hand away and flipped over onto my knees. “Don’t worry about me. It’s your turn.”

Ryan’s voice cracked and pitched when he yelled again, “Give me five minutes!” over his shoulder toward the door. His hands palmed my rear, digging fingertips into my flesh. I squeezed down on him with everything I had left, tightening my grip like a vise. Just as I started touching myself, Ryan moved my hand out of the way, replacing it with his own.