Come A Little Bit Closer
Page 42
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
All those years she’d thought actors were the ones who couldn’t be trusted.
Now, it turned out that she was the one who kept saying one thing...and then doing another.
* * *
The next days passed in a blur of meetings and important scenes being filmed and working with Tatiana on her lines...and secret, frantic, couldn’t-possibly-get-enough-of-it sex with Smith.
Somehow, making love with Smith had become an inevitable, and utterly necessary, part of each day. Every time she saw him, she was more and more tempted to go against what she believed—what she knew—to be true about men in the business. For the first time, she wondered if it wasn’t that women like her mother were so weak, but rather that the pull of these men was too strong to resist?
Because every time Smith’s hands, his mouth, touched her, all of her well-thought-out reasons, each one of her careful considerations, every last vow and promise she’d made to herself, disappeared as if they had never existed at all.
When Tatiana asked Valentina to weigh in on her wardrobe for some upcoming scenes she would be shooting with the baby, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find Smith there, too. But when Tatiana and Kayla, the wardrobe director, needed fifteen minutes to check out the stash of fabric in Kayla’s storage locker, Valentina was surprised by how natural it was not only for Smith to lock the door before pulling her into his arms, but also for her to wrap her arms and legs around him and put her mouth to his as he took them both over yet another brilliant peak.
The next day, she made sure to get in early to make up for the work she’d been too fuzzy to complete post-quickie with Smith, but even though she’d thought she was the only person on set, she found him in the kitchen making coffee. The next thing she knew, the door was locked again, the blinds were down, and they were making love against the counter, her hands pressed flat on the Formica as she pushed her hips back into his to try to take him deeper, while he gave her everything, absolutely everything she couldn’t help but want. She could have said no, but knowing his touch, his kisses, made her a willing slave to wanting every time he was near.
At neither time did they talk before or after. Maybe because he knew she wouldn’t want to hear what he had to say...and she was afraid of what she might tell him. But she knew they couldn’t go on like this for much longer, using only the language of their bodies.
Soon, very soon, what was happening between them would have to be discussed.
And ended.
Friday dawned dark and foggy after a long night of schooling herself to put a stop to the madness, a perfect reflection of the way her insides felt. She couldn’t keep up with the highs of those stolen moments in Smith’s arms, and then the lows of seeing him on set an hour later and having to act like they were strangers. Yes, she knew he didn’t want things to be that way, that he would gladly have alerted the entire cast and crew to their budding relationship, but she knew any pain she was suffering now was so much less than the pain she’d feel down the road if she were foolish enough to think of herself as his girlfriend rather than his latest film-fling. Valentina had seen far more women than her mother go through that hell during the past ten years, and she’d always vowed never to put herself in that position. And God forbid anyone with a camera caught them together. She couldn’t imagine seeing herself on the cover of a magazine.
So as she headed onto the set with her gifts for the holiday party, she firmly reminded herself: No matter what, she wasn’t going to make love to Smith again.
* * *
Smith was known throughout Hollywood for working hard, for holding focus, and for always giving his best. But he’d never put in hours like these before, never even knew he had it in him. It was easy to let everyone think it was because he was staking so much on the success of Gravity.
He alone knew the truth.
Ten minutes in Valentina’s arms would fuel him for ten hours, and then, when he finally came down from the high she gave him, he missed her so much—and wanted her again so badly—that trying to rest or relax was pointless. Instead, he worked through all those hours of frustration and need, only sleeping when he’d temporarily exhausted her scent, the feel of her on his lips, his hands, out of his system.
Most of the cast and crew were already in the holiday-decorated room in the big warehouse they’d rented in San Francisco to film the bulk of their indoor scenes, sharing drinks and food, by the time Valentina arrived. Even in the middle of a heated discussion with two cameramen about the San Francisco Outlaws’ prospect for another Super Bowl that year, he sensed her presence in the crowded room.
Excusing himself, he moved through the room toward her. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Her beautiful skin was already flushing when Tatiana moved to her side and slipped her arm around her sister’s waist.
“I was worried I was going to have to come kidnap your computer to get you out of your office for the party. You’ve been working so hard lately, I’m starting to wonder if you’ve secretly taken on another actor.”
Smith could guess exactly how Valentina was spinning her sister’s innocent comment as she flushed deeply before trying to laugh and say, “Imagine my trying to keep a secret like that from you.”
She very purposefully didn’t look in Smith’s direction as she said it. He had never been anyone’s secret before. Girls, then women, had been proud to claim him, practically from the minute he could walk and talk.
He didn’t like being Valentina’s secret, disliked it with such vehemence, in fact, that if he wasn’t careful, he was going to completely lose the tenuous grip he had on his patience. Moments of satisfaction had been few and far between the past week, but he was working like hell to keep believing they were getting somewhere...and that the day would soon come when Valentina wouldn’t be able to keep denying their connection.
So rather than pull her into him and kiss her senseless in front of his entire crew, he made himself turn and walk away to play Secret Santa. He let the laughter, the joy, the happiness of the people around him fill him up over the next hours. It was one of the best parts of working on a movie, the way a group of strangers came together and turned into a family over the course of weeks or months. By the time the taxis were called to take everyone home, everyone would be pleasantly sloshed. No doubt they’d all be starting work later than usual the next morning.
And yet, as he laughed with his cast, as he complimented his crew for the great job they’d been doing, he wanted Valentina with a fierceness that surprised even him. No woman had ever done this to him: made him burn, tore him open, tried his patience to its very limits.
Now, it turned out that she was the one who kept saying one thing...and then doing another.
* * *
The next days passed in a blur of meetings and important scenes being filmed and working with Tatiana on her lines...and secret, frantic, couldn’t-possibly-get-enough-of-it sex with Smith.
Somehow, making love with Smith had become an inevitable, and utterly necessary, part of each day. Every time she saw him, she was more and more tempted to go against what she believed—what she knew—to be true about men in the business. For the first time, she wondered if it wasn’t that women like her mother were so weak, but rather that the pull of these men was too strong to resist?
Because every time Smith’s hands, his mouth, touched her, all of her well-thought-out reasons, each one of her careful considerations, every last vow and promise she’d made to herself, disappeared as if they had never existed at all.
When Tatiana asked Valentina to weigh in on her wardrobe for some upcoming scenes she would be shooting with the baby, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find Smith there, too. But when Tatiana and Kayla, the wardrobe director, needed fifteen minutes to check out the stash of fabric in Kayla’s storage locker, Valentina was surprised by how natural it was not only for Smith to lock the door before pulling her into his arms, but also for her to wrap her arms and legs around him and put her mouth to his as he took them both over yet another brilliant peak.
The next day, she made sure to get in early to make up for the work she’d been too fuzzy to complete post-quickie with Smith, but even though she’d thought she was the only person on set, she found him in the kitchen making coffee. The next thing she knew, the door was locked again, the blinds were down, and they were making love against the counter, her hands pressed flat on the Formica as she pushed her hips back into his to try to take him deeper, while he gave her everything, absolutely everything she couldn’t help but want. She could have said no, but knowing his touch, his kisses, made her a willing slave to wanting every time he was near.
At neither time did they talk before or after. Maybe because he knew she wouldn’t want to hear what he had to say...and she was afraid of what she might tell him. But she knew they couldn’t go on like this for much longer, using only the language of their bodies.
Soon, very soon, what was happening between them would have to be discussed.
And ended.
Friday dawned dark and foggy after a long night of schooling herself to put a stop to the madness, a perfect reflection of the way her insides felt. She couldn’t keep up with the highs of those stolen moments in Smith’s arms, and then the lows of seeing him on set an hour later and having to act like they were strangers. Yes, she knew he didn’t want things to be that way, that he would gladly have alerted the entire cast and crew to their budding relationship, but she knew any pain she was suffering now was so much less than the pain she’d feel down the road if she were foolish enough to think of herself as his girlfriend rather than his latest film-fling. Valentina had seen far more women than her mother go through that hell during the past ten years, and she’d always vowed never to put herself in that position. And God forbid anyone with a camera caught them together. She couldn’t imagine seeing herself on the cover of a magazine.
So as she headed onto the set with her gifts for the holiday party, she firmly reminded herself: No matter what, she wasn’t going to make love to Smith again.
* * *
Smith was known throughout Hollywood for working hard, for holding focus, and for always giving his best. But he’d never put in hours like these before, never even knew he had it in him. It was easy to let everyone think it was because he was staking so much on the success of Gravity.
He alone knew the truth.
Ten minutes in Valentina’s arms would fuel him for ten hours, and then, when he finally came down from the high she gave him, he missed her so much—and wanted her again so badly—that trying to rest or relax was pointless. Instead, he worked through all those hours of frustration and need, only sleeping when he’d temporarily exhausted her scent, the feel of her on his lips, his hands, out of his system.
Most of the cast and crew were already in the holiday-decorated room in the big warehouse they’d rented in San Francisco to film the bulk of their indoor scenes, sharing drinks and food, by the time Valentina arrived. Even in the middle of a heated discussion with two cameramen about the San Francisco Outlaws’ prospect for another Super Bowl that year, he sensed her presence in the crowded room.
Excusing himself, he moved through the room toward her. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Her beautiful skin was already flushing when Tatiana moved to her side and slipped her arm around her sister’s waist.
“I was worried I was going to have to come kidnap your computer to get you out of your office for the party. You’ve been working so hard lately, I’m starting to wonder if you’ve secretly taken on another actor.”
Smith could guess exactly how Valentina was spinning her sister’s innocent comment as she flushed deeply before trying to laugh and say, “Imagine my trying to keep a secret like that from you.”
She very purposefully didn’t look in Smith’s direction as she said it. He had never been anyone’s secret before. Girls, then women, had been proud to claim him, practically from the minute he could walk and talk.
He didn’t like being Valentina’s secret, disliked it with such vehemence, in fact, that if he wasn’t careful, he was going to completely lose the tenuous grip he had on his patience. Moments of satisfaction had been few and far between the past week, but he was working like hell to keep believing they were getting somewhere...and that the day would soon come when Valentina wouldn’t be able to keep denying their connection.
So rather than pull her into him and kiss her senseless in front of his entire crew, he made himself turn and walk away to play Secret Santa. He let the laughter, the joy, the happiness of the people around him fill him up over the next hours. It was one of the best parts of working on a movie, the way a group of strangers came together and turned into a family over the course of weeks or months. By the time the taxis were called to take everyone home, everyone would be pleasantly sloshed. No doubt they’d all be starting work later than usual the next morning.
And yet, as he laughed with his cast, as he complimented his crew for the great job they’d been doing, he wanted Valentina with a fierceness that surprised even him. No woman had ever done this to him: made him burn, tore him open, tried his patience to its very limits.
