And she responded with equal fervor, her fingers clawing his rock-hard pecs. It was all-consuming, her pent-up desire met with his, and she was immediately lost in his touch, his taste, his scent of sweat and makeup and campfire. Two weeks and seven years of longing had led to this moment and she no longer cared about what would happen after, just the now. She couldn’t get enough—she wanted him. All of him.
Micah wanted more too. He pushed her against the backside of the trailer, pinning her with his leg, the now familiar ridge in his pants, hard against her thigh while he fumbled at the buttons of her shirt. She was vaguely aware of her shirt falling to the ground as he undid the closure of her jeans, releasing the edge of her tank top. Then his hand was underneath her top, caressing her breast. She leaned into his palm and moaned against his lips. His other hand moved lower, slipping under the band of her panties to reach the center of her want. Skillfully he touched her, circling his thumb against her sensitive bud, sending electric shocks throughout her body.
And then he went even lower. First he eased one finger into her. Ecstasy. She almost came undone right then as she clenched around him, wet and hot. He pulled out and she arched to follow him, not wanting him to stop. He met her motion with two fingers, plunged deeper this time, all the while rubbing her clit.
He continued to finger her, massaging her in and out, while she struggled with the fly of his pants, freeing his hard, thick staff. She stroked him as he throbbed in her hand, causing him to utter a deep, lustful groan.
Somewhere in her head her conscience tugged for her attention, shouting at her to stop and think about what was happening. She was about to do it with Micah Preston pressed up against the back of his trailer. Was this really how she wanted sex with him to go? In a public place where anyone could walk by at any minute? Did he even have a condom? She sure as hell didn’t.
But her body’s heightened sense of arousal drowned out any common sense. Clutching to his back, she wrapped a leg around his waist and he removed his hand from her breast to help hold her up. His other hand left her southern region, the sudden absence of his probing almost painful, and he lifted her other leg around him.
Condom! Her conscience screamed at her.
Then all thoughts and sensations were interrupted by the sound of voices and approaching footsteps.
“Fuck!” Micah slapped the back of the trailer, dropping her gently as he did.
She bent over for several seconds, her hands resting on her thighs, before her breathing slowed. She could hear Micah next to her, breath also ragged as he fumbled with his zipper. She found herself able to move again just in time for Sam and Chloe to round the side of the trailer.
“Micah,” Sam said as Maddie turned away and fumbled with her pants. “Beaumont’s looking for you to go through those shots.”
“Yeah?” Micah stepped in between Sam and Maddie, shielding her as she straightened herself.
It almost made her laugh. She’d left visible scratches on his still bare chest and he was hiding her for propriety’s sake?
Besides his action didn’t impress her. She was hot for him, yes, but with the passion of the moment gone, her anger returned full force, rolling through her like an avalanche. What the f**k was she doing kissing the man who had screwed with her on set? Did she have zero self-respect? Had her usual professional demeanor disappeared just because Micah had some sort of magnetic pull on her vagina?
No more. She had said this before, but now she meant it. She had to mean it if she wanted to keep working in her field. First thing tomorrow she would lodge a complaint. Not that Beaumont would care, but if she told Joe, maybe he could control his actor. She grabbed her shirt off the ground and brushed past Sam and Micah.
“Hold on a minute, Sam. Maddie!” She kept walking and Micah called again. “Maddie!”
She didn’t turn around, couldn’t turn around, but put her hand out to her side in a wave as she continued walking away from the trailers, away from the heart-crushingly gorgeous man behind her.
Chapter Thirteen
Micah crouched in the trees, watching as Maddie ran up the road by his hotel. He’d spotted her when she was still a speck at the bottom of the hill and knew it was her, recognized the movement of her body from seeing her run around on set. He watched through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, enraptured as she neared him, her firm legs striding easily up the hill, her br**sts bouncing rhythmically in her light blue sports bra. His c**k stiffened at the sight. Fuck. That was going to make his next move real uncomfortable.
After she passed him, he counted to three before he pulled his baseball cap lower on his head and jogged to catch up with her.
“Hey,” he said when he’d reached her side.
She pulled her ear buds out and looked at him. Realizing who he was, she jolted. “Are you f**king kidding me?”
Yeah, she was pissed. He knew she was. He’d tried to find her before he left set the night before with no success. He’d called her cell phone. No answer. He’d called her room. Again, no answer. When he awoke that morning he had tried again. Still no answer. She was avoiding him. Why was he surprised? He had seriously f**ked up with his behavior on set.
He had to talk to her, had to apologize, and since she was avoiding him, he’d have to resort to other methods. Including running. “What? I’m just getting some exercise. Enjoying the scenery.”
“Then you can do it someplace far away from me.” She looked both ways down the street, then started toward the other side.
“Wait.” He grabbed her wrist.
Yanking her arm away, Maddie turned on him, venom in her voice. “Don’t touch me!”
“Sorry, sorry.” Her response to him—as if his touch was loathsome—felt like a knife in his chest. “I’m sorry. I need to talk to you. This is the only way I knew how.”
She shook her head, her jaw set firm. She didn’t speak but resumed running her original course.
Micah took that as a good sign and fell into a run beside her. As he adjusted to her stride—a punishing pace at this altitude—he tried to think of what to say. He had thought the right words would just come, that he’d be able to explain his actions. But now that he was with her, all he could think about was what had happened after the shoot, when her body was beneath his and his mouth and hands were everywhere on her.
And then she was gone, leaving him with her scent in his nose and a hard-on in his pants. When he spoke, that was what he asked about. “What happened?”