Bad Romeo (Starcrossed #1)(39)
Author: Leisa Rayven

I shake my head and squirm as the elastic of my leotard rides up my left butt cheek. Holt shakes his head and cracks his knuckles.

“Start slowly. Take your time exploring each other. Romeo, this is your first time having sex with someone you truly love. It’s a profoundly different experience for you. And Juliet, your apprehension about giving yourself to a man for the first time is completely overridden by your desire for your new husband. As the passion builds, your movements can become more frantic. But when you come together, it’s a revelation for both of you. I’m not looking for porn here. Just simple, honest, pretend lovemaking. Are we clear?”

“Clear,” we say in unison.

My palms are sweaty, and Holt’s biting the inside of his cheek. The theater feels very small.

“Right. Take a moment to chat about what you’re going to do, then take your positions.”

Erika goes down into the auditorium, while Holt and I turn to each other and shuffle nervously.

“So…” I say, looking up at him.

He nods and lets out a breath. “Yeah. So…”

“We’re going to have fake sex.”

“Yep.”

“You and me.”

“Apparently.”

“I have to take your clothes off, and … well … touch you and stuff.”

He tries for his nonexistent pockets again before putting his hands on his hips. “Fuck this fucking play.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I’m sure after a few minutes, we’ll be bored out of our minds.”

He gives me the world’s most skeptical look.

“Are you two ready?” Erika calls.

We stare at each other for a second before Holt stalks off side stage.

Okay, so we’re really doing this. A sex scene between a virgin and the man who hates that he wants her. Should be fun.

I sit on the edge of the rostrum and bounce my legs.

“When you’re ready,” Erika says as she opens her notebook.

I take a few breaths, then Holt walks onstage, bare feet and beautiful face, eyes full of fear, need, and want.

I stand and face him as he approaches, a low flutter starting in my belly. It moves lower as he runs his gaze up and down my body.

Okay, Cassie, focus. Find your character. Juliet. It’s all about Juliet.

Dear God, Holt looks good in that costume.

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo.

He stops in front of me, and it looks like he’s just run a mile rather than walked a few steps across the stage. His breathing is fast, and his chest rises and falls as he locks eyes with me.

Lord.

His eyes.

He’s completely committed to this scene. No fear or hiding. Just honest, raw passion.

He focuses on me, and I melt. That look is going to be the death of me.

His expression screams that he’d walk over hot coals to have me, and my whole body reacts. A deep ache starts low and grows more intense with each passing second.

He cups my face and gently rubs his thumb over my cheekbone. Every piece of skin under his hand tingles fiercely. My heart races, pounding loud and fast, making me dizzy.

I step toward him. Now our bodies are touching. I mirror his hand and touch his face. He has light stubble on his cheek and chin. I graze my fingers over the sandpapery texture. His lips part, and I run my thumb over them, fascinated by their softness.

Such beautiful lips

Need to taste them.

I stand on my toes, and place my hand at the back of his neck as I pull him down. He’s in the middle of an exhale, but when I press my lips against his, he inhales sharply. He grips the back of my head with one hand and winds the other around my waist.

All of me melts against him. The way we react to each other is elemental. Candle wax and flame. Wherever he touches me, scorching heat flares beneath my skin.

His lips move slowly as he tastes me, filled with restrained passion and breathless anticipation.

“That’s good,” Erika calls out.

I open my eyes and pull back in surprise.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Ignore her.”

He kisses me again as he pulls my body flush against his, and Erika no longer exists.

When I inhale, it’s like pieces of him make their home inside me. His taste. His smell. Just as debilitating as the rest of him.

I run my hands down his chest, and as I reach his stomach, he pulls back and looks down at me.

I grip the bottom of his T-shirt. It needs to go. I have to see him. He helps me by yanking it over his head and dropping it on the floor.

And there he is.

Shirtless Holt.

I take a deep breath and really look at him. His broad shoulders, smooth and firm. His wide chest peppered lightly with hair. His flat stomach and narrow waist. Muscular but not bulky.

Lean.

Hard.

Sexy.

He watches me assess him, and his breath speeds up.

“Put your hands on me,” he orders quietly.

I run my fingertips over the backs of his hands and graze my palms up his forearms, over his triceps, and onto his shoulders. He takes in a shuddering breath and closes his eyes as I trail over his clavicle, his chest, down his ribcage and onto his abs.

I breathe through all the emotions I’m feeling, trying to make sense of why he affects me so powerfully.

I’ve always found him attractive, but this is more than that. An intense feeling of familiarity washes over me. A whisper of “yes” even as my mind screams “no.”

He opens his eyes, and his gaze travels down my chest, then lower, until he reaches the tie around my waist. He frowns when he tugs at the silky fabric to pull it loose. The robe falls open, and I’m incredibly aware that the only thing stopping Holt from seeing me naked is a skimpy leotard that is doing nothing to camouflage my nipples.

He draws in a loud breath and looks into my eyes before he steps forward. He bends down to press warm kisses down to my collarbone, onto my chest, then lower, between my breasts. The thin fabric of the leotard does nothing to insulate me from the effect of his lips on my body. He kisses his way back up, retracing the path he just took until his mouth is against my ear.

“Bored yet?” he whispers.

I run my hands down his chest and graze my fingernails along his abdominals, stopping at the waistband of his pants. I dip my finger under the elastic, and he grips me tighter as I kiss his chest.

“Practically comatose,” I whisper into his skin.

Holt makes a groaning sound, and that’s when the gloves come off. He grabs my face and kisses me fiercely. All pretense of being gentle and patient flies out the window as our rapid breathing and low moans fill the quiet space.