“It’s restful and low-key. Promise.”
“Will there be kissing?”
His full lips twitch. “If you’re a good girl.”
“Good girls won’t suck your dick the way I can.”
Lust narrows his eyes and flares his pupils. “I think you’re onto something with that staying-in-bed plan.”
He looms over me again, his mouth descending. I giggle and push him away. Rolling off the bed and to my feet, I stride to the bathroom and look back at him stretched out, hands behind his head, watching me with embers in his eyes. His lazy smile blazes bright, even, and easy. Canon is so reserved, I didn’t expect humor to take to his face this effortlessly, but it does, crinkling his eyes at the corners and slashing grooves into his lean, bearded cheeks. My heart pinches because I recognize the gift of seeing him this open when he only shows the world so much.
“Do I have time for a quick shower?” I ask, my voice coming out husky, which I hope he takes for Barry White morning voice instead of the unexpected emotion it is.
He glances at his watch. “Very quick. Dress comfortably.”
He’s wearing dark jeans, Jordans and a long-sleeve I’m Gonna Git You Sucka T-shirt.
“I like that shirt,” I say, going to start my shower.
“This movie’s a classic. Do you need help with that shower?”
“No, lecher!” I yell, peeling off my short nightgown. “If you come in this bathroom when I’m naked, we’ll never get out of here for our secret date.”
“You’ve got a point.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m ready, clad in dark jeans and a statement sweatshirt of my own.
“Zora Neale Hurston, huh?” He nods to the sketch on my chest of one of my favorite authors. “I like.”
“I’m re-reading Their Eyes Were Watching God in all the spare time my boss leaves me.”
“You have spare time?” He frowns. “I must not be doing it right. I’m obviously not working you guys hard enough.”
“Tell that lie.” I chuckle wryly. “I keep a book in my bag since we have so much stop and go on set.”
“You finished Schitt’s Creek?”
“We’re saving the final season. I don’t know what I’ll do when it’s done, so I’m reading instead.”
Takira’s door is closed and when I poke my head in, she’s gone back to sleep. I lock the front door behind me, glancing around the quiet neighborhood to make sure no one is watching us. We make our way up the driveway to the black Land Rover parked on the street. Buried in my script, I didn’t think much about the car he drives when we went to Santa Barbara. Now, I take in the luxury as we climb in and buckle up.
“Nice ride,” I tell him, running my hands along the supple leather seats.
“Thanks.”
“Are you a car guy?”
He lifts one brow and glances over at me as we pull away from the curb. “You mean like do I have an underground garage with maybe ten sports cars? No.”
“Just this one?”
“One other, but it’s a classic. I don’t spend a lot of money on cars.”
“Clothes?”
“No. I mean, I like clothes, but I don’t spend an inordinate amount of money on them.”
“What then? What do you splurge on?”