Hell yes, I text back.
He sends me a thumbs up in reply.
Then he sends a bright red heart.
I lock my phone and pull the sheets up over my head. There’s no point lying to myself. I fangirl over Rush. I have massive crush on him and I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.
“What do you think? Fancy luring me to my death?”
Rush comes toward me across the ballroom floor, barefoot and shirtless, dressed in black jeans with tousled hair. Occult symbols have been painted on his muscular chest and abs and down his arms. In a scene right before the one we’re about to rehearse, the chorus paints him up like this, readying the sacrifice to be burned in the wicker man. His lower lash line has been smudged with kohl, giving him a sinful, disheveled air.
The corner of his mouth tips up as he watches me drinking him in. He looks insanely hot and he knows it.
“Not bad. Guyliner suits you.” I want to slink against him and draw his beautiful mouth down to mine for a long, searing kiss. Everyone involved in this project is in the room, though, so I have to pretend like I’m not fantasizing about licking the line of hip muscle that dives down into his tight black jeans.
Rush leans his forearms on the barre that the dancers and I have been using for warm-ups, watching me as I tug bobby pins from my hair and pull a long ballet skirt over my leotard. It’s not the costume I’ll wear on the day. That one’s got to be kept in pristine white condition, and I’m about to get all smudged up from his black paint. This is the dress rehearsal before we start filming the video.
“I saw you working with the chorus earlier,” he says, his eyes running over me. “You’ve been dancing all morning. You okay to keep going?”
My hair’s sweaty and I’m constantly drinking water just to stay hydrated, but I’m not in the least bit tired.
“I feel like I’m ready to do this,” I say with a grin, scooping my fingers through my hair to smooth the worst of the tangles. “Come on, you tasty sacrifice.”
I grab Rush’s hand and hurry us over to Marlena to let her know we’re ready. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice several people looking at our joined hands and realize what I’ve done. I loosen my grip, but Rush strengthens his and won’t let go.
As Marlena gives us a few last-minute instructions, Rush keeps a hold on me. I can feel energy humming in his fingers and filling me with tension. The good kind, like a coiled spring ready to launch itself into the air. He draws me over to our marks, and the music begins. We start this part with our fingers touching, and our movements become a continuation of who we are. As we dance, I can feel myself falling deeper into him. Every time our bodies touch, mine moves in response, two waves bending around each other. His voice. My motion. As he lifts me in the air, I surrender to the way he makes me defy gravity. As I come back down, I return to him, not the earth.
As we finish the dance and the music dies away, my heart is battering against my ribs like it’s trying to leap from my body into his. Dancing with a partner who gets you can almost feel better than sex.
“Damn, you two. Great chemistry.”
Marlena’s voice breaks through the thrall Rush has put me in. I cast her a furtive glance, but she’s consulting her notes, already moving on.
My fingers trail down Rush’s arms and he seizes my hand in his as I try to break our connection. I swing back around to look at him and those smoldering eyes are arrowing into me, the message in their depths clear.
Don’t you dare go anywhere.
My breath catches in my throat. He feels it too, the total connection between us, and I wish everyone in the room would disappear.
“Let’s rewind a bit and run through the bathing scene,” Marlena calls. I’m almost naked for this scene and Rush and I have only ever practiced it alone.
Rush finally looks away, and I can breathe again. “We already practiced that.”
Marlena shakes her head. “We need to run through all the scenes, Rush. Come on, it’s a short one, and then we can all have a break.”
While he’s protesting, I manage to slip my hand from his. He turns back to me with a glower, and the words he was about to say freeze in his throat.
I strip off the long skirt I’m wearing and start to peel out of my leotard. I have to be topless for the scene, though the way it’s filmed will mean I won’t actually show anything but a hint of side-boob on-screen. I could go upstairs and grab some pasties to cover my nipples, but they’re such a bother. I’ve never had an issue with nudity when I’m working.