He came to see the show; my first on stage college performance.
The backstage was all abuzz with the news of his being in the audience, his name fell off everyone’s lips in awe, having already successfully made the leap into on screen roles.
I was too nervous to care before or during the play but at the after party, as my professor guided me over and introduced me, I was just as stage struck as all the other students.
My breath catches when he reaches up and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. He sees it, smiles and let his fingers linger a little too long.
“You actually dyed your hair green for the role?” he queries with a laugh in his voice.
I shrug, “It’ll wash out” all calm and sophistication.
His smile reaches those dark, serious eyes. Eyes that seem incapable of joy until that smile hits them, then they light up like Christmas.
The urge to step into him, pull his face to mine and kiss those smiling lips washes over me. I don’t though.
I excuse myself politely and mingle, not wanting to hog the surprise star.
Hours later I walk towards the car park, shawl drawn over my shoulders, the weather slightly chilly in the late spring.
A small movement catches my eye as I approach the motorbike parking.
There he is, leaning against the side of his bike, denim clad legs crossed casually, black cotton clothed arms crossed, waiting.
I look at him and smile as I close the distance between us; his eyes intense and unreadable.
“You were good tonight” he complements me when I’m only a meter away.
I cringe, “I hate acting. I prefer to work behind the scenes.”
He smiles that delicious smile that makes all the girls turn wanton; his delicious lips opening just enough to show a hint of teeth as he stands straight and takes a casual step towards me. His hands slide into his pockets, the movement drawing my eyes to his groin for a moment.
I blush and swallow before averting my eyes to his bike and then forcing them up to meet his dark gaze. He takes another step closer.
“You’re beautiful. Your professor is right to encourage you to take the stage.”
I nearly burst out laughing, “Looks do not make you a good actress,” I scoff. “And he told me he’d fail me if I didn’t take the part. That’s more blackmail than encouragement.”
He laughs, the sound rough but pleasant, like it’s not something he does often. He reaches out his hand to me. I put my hand in his and he tugs me into his chest with a chuckle.
“Yes, I know.” He bends his head and kisses me tenderly before speaking quietly to my lips. “But even your professor didn’t pick up how familiar we are with each other. You have a talent.”
I lean into him seeking the warmth of that body I already know intimately. Breathing his familiar scent in, and feeling myself grow wet just from his close proximity. I miss him so much when he’s away filming.
“Good” I sigh, “he’d start being nice to me if he knew.”
“And we can’t have that” he raises his brows in sarcasm.
I pinch his waist playfully with a laugh and he cringes back laughing and ticklish.
“No, we can’t” I smirk.
His kiss this time is anything but tender. Hungry, passionate, lust filled.
“Let’s go home Siren Queen” he croons, guiding me towards his bike. “I want to hear you sing your siren song for me.”
