Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Cillian didn’t feel very important. He felt like a very small minnow in a very large ocean full of very hungry sharks. And he wasn’t sure if he was facing down another shark right now or seeking protection in its shadow as he slowly slid his hand into Brendan’s, absorbing the callused warmth of him into his skin.
“I…guess it would make it easier,” he admitted. “To get used to you in private without people watching, so I don’t…you know, cut myself out. And then it’ll be easier when we’re filming.”
“Exactly.” Brendan’s fingers wrapped around his firmly. “And if it turns out we’re not sexually compatible, we can still practice. And I’ll still pretend to be your boyfriend until Newcomb’s no longer over your shoulder. We’ll figure out something else to let you discreetly explore a little more without requiring a dramatic end to our passionate whirlwind love affair.”
Cillian couldn’t help a faint laugh. God, two days and he’d fallen in and out of more shite than he could even fathom. What even was his life right now?
He stared down at their intertwined hands. His hands were long and heavy-knuckled, but slender in comparison to the thick, square heft of Brendan’s—yet Brendan’s still had a graceful, narrow taper to them, well-crafted and almost sensuous in their design.
It’s mutually consenting casual sex between two adults.
And Cillian was the only one still twisted inside out by that kiss. To Brendan it had probably been nothing at all. Just another day on the job.
“So,” he whispered. “Now you’re my fake boyfriend, my real kink partner, and my acting coach.”
“I’m versatile like that,” Brendan answered, and Cillian let out a choked laugh.
“Why do all this for me? Just…why? Mr. Anderson was right. We just met yesterday.”
“Why not?” Brendan let their clasped hands fall, resting casually on the sofa between them.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s my answer.”
Cillian peered at him from under his brows. “What about Mr. Anderson, though? You’re not…?”
For all his unflappable calm—Brendan choked next, seemingly on empty air. “Drake?” he coughed, before pressing his fist to his mouth, staring at Cillian over it, aghast. “Dear God, no. Your gaydar is astounding, most don’t get a read on him that easily, but no. We’ve never once thought of each other that way.” Frowning quizzically, Brendan tilted his head. “I think he’s a top, anyway. Two tops usually don’t work. I don’t know. I’ve never wanted to know enough about his personal life to find out.”
“You aren’t friends?”
“Professional friends,” Brendan said. “We trust each other a great deal, we’ve endured quite a bit together, but we tend to draw the line at nosing into each other’s sex lives. The most he wants to get involved in mine is ensuring I don’t cause a scandal, unless that scandal would be beneficial to my career.”
“Notoriety sells,” Cillian murmured. “You don’t seem like the type to release a sex tape just to get attention for your next box office.”
“No. I find that to be a touch tasteless. To each their own, though.”
“…so you’ll casually shrug off rape roleplay, but a sex tape is tasteless.”
“For me in specific, yes. Though I suppose I’ll have to kiss you on camera a few more times to make a point. I officially retract what I said about not kissing you that way again, unless you’d prefer not to.” Brendan idly ran his thumb along their clasped hands, and Cillian had to fight not to jump, shiver, when he felt like the nerves in his palm and knuckles had doubled. “You don’t know what to make of me, do you?”
“No.” Cillian shook his head. “I know I said this already, but you…you really are nothing like you are on TV.”
“Most actors aren’t. Even when we’re ourselves, we’re playing a role in public.” Discerning brown eyes flicked over him. “Have I truly disappointed you that much?”
“I don’t know. Yes. Maybe? But…maybe I needed to be disappointed, I don’t…know.” Cillian fumbled, every word making his stomach sink when he was just digging himself deeper and deeper in. “I wasn’t expecting you to be…”
“Quite such an asshole?”
“So overwhelming,” Cillian said. “You’re the one who keeps filling in insults. Last time it was ‘dick.’”
“And last time you agreed with me—but I prefer to think of myself as particular,” Brendan replied without the slightest hint of offense. “I have a certain way of doing things, and I like them to be done right.”
“So that’s what this is.” Cillian eyed him. “If I’m going to fuck around with kink, you’re going to make sure I do it right.”
“I’m not making sure of anything. I’m offering you a safe outlet.” Brendan gave his hand a brief squeeze, then let go, leaving Cillian’s fingers cold as Brendan stood, smoothing his hands over his jeans. “Think it over. Take the day to cool down. Let me know how you feel tomorrow. And then if you’ve decided, you can stop by my place for dinner tomorrow night. We’ll do some readings, discuss your character, and see what happens from there.”