Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Mason snickers. “If Leo, a vegetarian, can eat meat for a role, then surely you can eat … Jordan’s meat.”
I throw my arms wide. “You guys give the best support. Thank you.”
“Just kiss,” Harley says. “Maybe we can critique your technique.”
“Jesus H. Christ, is this actually happening, or am I asleep and in a really bad dream?” I run my hand through my hair. “I’m in that dream where everyone’s looking at me in my underwear, aren’t I?”
“Kissing me is like the ultimate wet dream.” Jordan winks. “If you gave it a proper chance, I could prove it, but you’re determined to be in your head all the time.” His hands find my waist, and I flinch. “See. Relax. Pretend I’m Gal Gadot.”
“Only if you promise to wear a Wonder Woman costume.”
Jordan’s lips turn up, and I try not to think about them being on mine. I block out the disaster of a first kiss onscreen and focus on him here and now.
Like on the set, I’m conscious of everyone watching, but unlike in front of the film crew, these guys are my friends, so I’m less uptight about it. Still uptight for sure, just … not as much.
Jordan’s gray eyes dance in amusement as he closes the gap and presses his tall and lean body against me.
Unlike in the movie where he’s stripping me out of my clothes, he cups my face with one hand and moves in, lowering his mouth to mine and softly bringing our lips together.
My eyes close, and from the moment our lips touch, it’s a completely different experience than our last kiss, but I can’t put my finger on why.
It’s more relaxed and charged at the same time. My instinct is to open my mouth for more, but when I do, Jordan doesn’t push his tongue inside. There’s a light flicker of it against my bottom lip, but he refrains like the professional he is.
It’s already ten times better than our first try. There’s that connection there that I felt when I was in the gay bar, like I’m truly immersing myself into the role of Madden.
Jordan’s hand on my cheek moves to my hair, while his big hand on my waist wraps around my back and pulls me against him harder, but he still keeps his tongue back.
His mouth might be professional, but his lower half isn’t getting the memo. He’s hard against me—I can feel the stiffness of his cock against my thigh, just like I could feel it that night sandwiched between him and the other guy. I get the sudden urge to see what would happen if I kissed him properly.
It’s a power trip to know I’m turning him on without even trying.
I try to compare it to the man in the club, but that kiss happened so fast, all I can really remember was liking it.
This, though. Jordan’s taking his time. He moves his mouth slowly. He savors it.
Tingles shoot down my spine and land in my balls. My skin breaks out in goose bumps.
Just when I start to get into it, Jordan pulls away.
No, wait, come back.
I crack my eyes open to find Jordan smiling down at me.
“I’d say that was an improvement,” he rumbles.
Understatement, but something inside me tells me not to show that.
I step away. “Gal Gadot has a very stubbly mouth.” Then I lift my shirt and wipe my lips for good measure.
I think he knows I’m bluffing.
Harley clears his throat. “Uh. Yeah. Umm, that was great.”
There are rounds of agreement.
“Really?” I ask. “It doesn’t look like two fish kissing?”
“A couple more times and it’ll be hot,” Ryder says.
Jordan turns to me. “A couple more times, huh? It’s a sacrifice I’ll have to make. In the name of show business.”
“Uh-huh. Show business.” I glance down at his hard-on and then cock my brow at him, all the while praying he doesn’t look at my semi and call me on it.
It’s not like I’m completely hard. It’s reacting to basic stimuli. But if our second kiss was ten times more explosive than our first, what will the next one be like?
Luckily, Mason’s mom has perfect timing and shows up with the pizzas, breaking apart this little experiment.
After food, Jordan tries to slip away quietly, but I notice him. While everyone is focused on Ryder’s coming out or our upcoming album, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off Jordan.
He’s his usual easygoing self, an improvement from the last twenty-four hours, but I can still see the hurt behind his eyes. It’s obvious in the way he carries himself as well. His jokes seem forced, his quips lacking in the snark-to-joking ratio.
The rest of the guys and I work well into the night on the new album, and it’s just like old times. Until it suddenly becomes too much like old times.