Chapter One: Unscripted Sparks

The morning sun spilled through the high windows of the repurposed warehouse, casting long, golden rectangles across the concrete floor. The air smelled of fresh coffee, old wood, and the faint metallic tang of the industrial space that had been transformed into a makeshift studio. It was the first day of filming for The Space Between Us, an independent drama that had been buzzing in indie circles for months—not just for its ambitious script, but for the two leads attached to it. Liam Rodgers, whose name alone could draw crowds, and Melody Morris, the rising star whose raw talent had critics already whispering about awards.

Liam arrived early, as he always did, slipping in through the side door with a quiet confidence that belied the nerves humming beneath his skin. He wore a tailored navy suit, the fabric stretching just enough over his broad shoulders to suggest the lean muscle beneath. His dark brown hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run a hand through it one too many times, and his deep green eyes scanned the room with the practiced ease of someone used to assessing his surroundings. He nodded at the crew members setting up lights, his smile warm but distant, the kind that didn’t invite conversation. He liked to observe first, to get the lay of the land before diving in.

Melody, on the other hand, had been there for nearly an hour already. She sat cross-legged on a folding chair in the corner, her strawberry blond hair cascading in loose waves down her back, catching the light like spun copper. She wore a soft lavender dress, the fabric thin enough to hint at the delicate freckles dusting her collarbones. Her bright green eyes were fixed on the script in her lap, her lips moving slightly as she murmured lines to herself. She hadn’t noticed Liam yet, too absorbed in the world of the film, in the character she was about to become.

The director, a wiry man in his late forties named Daniel Carter, spotted Liam and waved him over. “Ah, there he is,” Daniel said, clapping Liam on the back. “Ready to meet your leading lady?”

Liam glanced toward Melody, his expression unreadable. “I think we’ve met before,” he said, though his tone was careful, as if testing the words. “At the table read last week.”

Daniel chuckled. “Barely. You two exchanged maybe three words. But today’s the day you actually become these people.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “And, off the record? The chemistry between you two is gonna make or break this film. The script demands it.”

Liam’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He’d heard that before—chemistry, that elusive, unpredictable thing that could turn a good film into a great one or leave it floundering in mediocrity. He knew how to act in love. But actual chemistry? That was something else entirely. Something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time.

Daniel didn’t wait for a response. He strode toward Melody, calling out, “Melody! Liam’s here. Let’s get you two acquainted before we start blocking the first scene.”

Melody looked up, her gaze locking onto Liam’s. For a moment, neither of them spoke. There was something in the way her eyes widened just slightly, as if she were seeing him for the first time—not as the famous actor whose face was on billboards, but as the man standing in front of her, tall and solid and undeniably present. Liam felt the weight of her stare like a physical touch, warm and unexpected.

“Hey,” she said, her voice softer than he expected, with a hint of a coastal lilt. She stood, brushing imaginary wrinkles from her dress, and extended a hand. “Melody.”

Liam took her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers. Her skin was warm, her grip firm but not overpowering. “Liam,” he replied, his voice low. “Though I think you already knew that.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “I did. But it’s nice to hear you say it.”

There was a beat of silence, one of those strange, suspended moments where the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them. Liam was acutely aware of the way her thumb brushed against his knuckles as she pulled her hand back, the faintest hint of lavender from her perfume—or maybe it was her shampoo—lingering in the air between them.

Daniel cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “Alright, love birds, let’s get to work. First scene is the meet-cute at the café. Liam, you’re playing the cynical writer who’s convinced love is a myth. Melody, you’re the free-spirited artist who’s about to prove him wrong.” He grinned. “Sound familiar?”

Melody laughed, the sound light and easy. “So, basically, we’re playing ourselves?”

Liam smirked. “If I were a cynical writer, maybe. But I’m not that jaded.”

“Yet,” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

Something shifted in Liam’s chest, a warmth he hadn’t expected. He told himself it was just the thrill of a new project, the adrenaline of the first day. But the way Melody was looking at him—like she could see straight through the carefully constructed facade he presented to the world—made him wonder if this film was going to be more complicated than he’d anticipated.

---

The café set had been dressed to perfection, all warm woods and soft lighting, the kind of place that felt like a second home. The script called for their characters to collide—literally—when Melody’s character, Claire, accidentally spilled her coffee on Liam’s character, Ethan. It was a classic meet-cute, the kind of scene that could feel clichéd if not handled with care.

They ran through the blocking first, Daniel guiding them through the movements. “Melody, you’re coming in from the door, distracted by your phone. Liam, you’re at the counter, ordering. Claire bumps into Ethan, coffee goes everywhere, and—boom—instant dislike. Or so they think.”

Melody nodded, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration. “Got it. So I’m flustered, but not too apologetic. Claire doesn’t take herself too seriously.”

“And Ethan is annoyed,” Liam added, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “But there’s something about her that throws him off. He’s not used to people who don’t immediately defer to him.”

Daniel snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Now let’s see it.”

They reset. Melody took her position by the door, her shoulders relaxed, her expression easy. Liam leaned against the counter, his posture deliberately closed-off, his arms crossed. The camera rolled.

Melody stepped inside, her eyes on her phone as she typed out a message. She moved with a natural grace, her steps unhurried, her presence filling the space without effort. Liam watched her, his gaze flickering over the way the light caught the freckles on her cheeks, the way her hair shifted with each movement.

Then—contact. Her shoulder brushed against his arm, her coffee cup tipping precariously. For a second, time seemed to slow. Liam could see the exact moment Melody realized what was happening, her eyes widening, her lips parting in a silent oh. The coffee splashed across his shirt, the heat of it seeping through the fabric, but all he could focus on was the way her hand flew to her mouth, her fingers trembling just slightly.

“I am so sorry,” she gasped, her voice breathless. “Oh my God, I—”

Liam looked down at the stain spreading across his chest, then back up at her. Their characters were supposed to be annoyed, but in that moment, he forgot the script entirely. All he saw was Melody—her flushed cheeks, the way her breath hitched, the genuine mortification in her eyes.

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

Melody blinked, her expression shifting from horror to confusion. “It’s… not fine. Your shirt is ruined. Here—” She grabbed a napkin from the counter and pressed it against his chest, her fingers brushing against him. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through Liam’s body, sharp and unexpected.

He caught her wrist, not to pull her away, but to still her. “Claire wouldn’t apologize this much,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the delicate bone beneath her skin.

Melody’s breath caught. For a second, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, she pulled her hand back, her fingers curling into her palm. “No,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. “She wouldn’t.”

Daniel’s voice cut through the tension. “Cut! That was—” He paused, rubbing his chin. “That was interesting. Not what we blocked, but… interesting.”

Liam exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I went off script.”

“No,” Melody said quickly, shaking her head. “It worked. It felt… real.”

Daniel studied them for a long moment, his gaze shrewd. “Alright. Let’s try it again. But this time, lean into that. The script says they dislike each other, but maybe there’s something else beneath it. Something neither of them expects.”

Liam met Melody’s eyes. There was a challenge there, a spark of something unspoken. He nodded.

They reset. This time, when Melody bumped into him, Liam didn’t just stand there. He turned into her, his body instinctively closing the distance between them. The coffee spilled, but his hand shot out, gripping her elbow to steady her. Their faces were inches apart, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her irises, the way her pupils dilated just slightly.

“I hate coffee,” he said, his voice a low growl.

Melody’s lips twitched. “Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a writer,” she said, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone. “Writers live on coffee. You’re just mad because I ruined your shirt.”

Liam’s thumb brushed against the inside of her arm, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver through her. “Maybe I’m mad because you’re not sorry.”

Melody tilted her chin up, her gaze locked onto his. “Maybe I’m not sorry because you’re enjoying this.”

A beat of silence. Then, slowly, Liam smiled—a real one, not the practiced grin he gave to fans or reporters. “Maybe you’re right.”

Daniel didn’t call cut. The camera kept rolling, capturing the way Liam’s hand lingered on Melody’s arm, the way her breath hitched when he leaned in just a little closer. It wasn’t in the script. It wasn’t even close. But it was there, crackling between them like a live wire.

Finally, Daniel cleared his throat. “Cut. That—” He let out a low whistle. “That was gold. We’re keeping it.”

Melody stepped back, her cheeks flushed, her fingers pressing against her lips as if she could hold in the smile threatening to break free. Liam exhaled sharply, his pulse still racing. He told himself it was just the scene, just the adrenaline of performing. But the way Melody was looking at him—like she’d just discovered a secret—made him wonder if this was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

---

Lunch break came sooner than Liam expected. The morning had flown by in a blur of takes and adjustments, of stolen glances and accidental touches that left his skin tingling. He found himself sitting at one of the craft service tables, picking at a sandwich he didn’t really want, his mind still replaying the way Melody had looked at him during that last take—the way her breath had caught when he touched her.

“Mind if I join you?”

Liam looked up. Melody stood there, holding a plate with a salad and a bottle of water. She looked hesitant, like she was second-guessing herself, and that was enough to make him push his own doubts aside.

“Please,” he said, gesturing to the seat across from him.

She sat, her dress pooling around her legs. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The noise of the crew around them filled the silence—laughter from the makeup artists, the clatter of dishes, the low hum of conversation. But it all felt distant, as if they were in their own little bubble.

“You’re good,” Liam said finally, breaking the quiet. “Really good.”

Melody ducked her head, a strand of hair falling forward to obscure her face. “Thanks. You too.”

“No, I mean it.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Most actors would’ve stuck to the script. But you—you listened. You reacted. That’s rare.”

She looked up, her green eyes bright. “So did you.”

Liam exhaled, running a hand over his beard. “I don’t usually… improvise like that.”

“Why not?”

He hesitated. The truth was too raw, too personal. Because it’s safer to stick to the script. Because letting go means risking something real. But he couldn’t say that. Not to her. Not yet.

“Old habits,” he said instead.

Melody studied him for a long moment, her gaze searching. Then, softly, she said, “I think you’re lying.”

Liam’s breath caught. “Excuse me?”

“You’re too good at this to be afraid of improvising.” She tilted her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I think you’re afraid of what happens when you do let go.”

The air between them thickened, charged with something unspoken. Liam opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. Because she was right. And that terrified him more than anything.

Before he could say anything, Daniel’s voice boomed across the room. “Alright, people! We’re back in fifteen. Liam, Melody—wardrobe needs you for a quick fitting before the next scene.”

Melody stood, her chair scraping against the concrete. “Duty calls,” she said lightly, though her eyes never left his.

Liam watched her walk away, the sway of her hips, the way her hair moved with each step. He should’ve been focused on the next scene, on the work. But all he could think about was the way she’d looked at him—like she saw him. Really saw him.

And for the first time in years, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

---

The afternoon scenes were harder. Not because the material was difficult, but because Liam couldn’t shake the awareness of Melody—her scent, her voice, the way her fingers brushed against his when they rehearsed their next scene. They were filming the argument that came after the café meet-cute, the one where Ethan and Claire’s simmering tension finally boiled over.

“You’re infuriating,” Liam snapped, his voice low and controlled. They were standing in the middle of the street set, the fake cityscape around them bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. “You barge into my life, spill coffee on me, and then act like I’m the unreasonable one.”

Melody’s eyes flashed. “Because you are! You’re so stuck in your own cynicism that you can’t even see what’s right in front of you.”

“And what’s that?”

“That maybe—” she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper “—just maybe—you’re not as immune to this as you think you are.”

Liam’s breath hitched. They were still in character, but the line between Ethan and Claire, Liam and Melody, had blurred to the point of nonexistence. He could feel the heat of her body, the way her breath fanned against his lips. The script called for Ethan to storm off, to leave Claire standing there with her words hanging between them. But Liam couldn’t move.

Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against the side of her face, tracing the line of her jaw. Melody’s eyes fluttered closed, her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. The camera was still rolling. The crew was still watching. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

“Cut!” Daniel’s voice was sharp, breaking the spell.

Liam dropped his hand, stepping back as if burned. Melody exhaled shakily, her fingers pressing against her lips.

Daniel was grinning like a man who’d just won the lottery. “That,” he said, pointing at them, “is exactly what I wanted. That right there? That’s the whole damn movie.”

Liam didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t thinking about the film. He was thinking about Melody. About the way she’d looked at him like he was the only person in the world. About the way his body had reacted to her touch, like she’d lit a fire beneath his skin.

And he was terrified.

---

By the time they wrapped for the day, Liam’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts he couldn’t quite grasp. He packed up his things slowly, stalling, because he didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to step out of this strange, intoxicating bubble they’d created.

Melody lingered too, standing by the door with her bag slung over her shoulder, her hair slightly messy from the day’s work. She looked exhausted, but there was a brightness in her eyes that hadn’t been there that morning.

“So,” she said, turning to him. “Same time tomorrow?”

Liam swallowed. “Yeah. Same time.”

She hesitated, then took a step closer. “Liam?”

“Hmm?”

“Today was…” She trailed off, searching for the right word. “Different.”

He knew what she meant. Because it had been different. She was different.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “It was.”

Melody smiled, slow and sweet. “Goodnight, Liam.”

“Goodnight, Melody.”

He watched her walk out the door, the late afternoon sun haloing her figure, turning her hair into a flame. And for the first time in a long time, Liam Rodgers didn’t feel like he was acting.

He felt like he was falling.

Chapter Two: Undeniable Chemistry

The golden light of late afternoon spilled through the half-drawn blinds of the soundstage, casting long shadows across the set as the crew began packing up for the day. Liam stood near the craft services table, his fingers absently tracing the rim of a paper coffee cup he hadn’t touched. The residual heat of the scene—the way Melody’s breath had hitched when his thumb grazed her cheek—still lingered under his skin, like the ghost of a touch he wasn’t sure he was allowed to crave. He exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound lost beneath the hum of equipment being wheeled away.

Melody was across the room, laughing at something the script supervisor had said, her fingers twisting the hem of her blouse in that nervous way she didn’t seem to realize she did. The fabric stretched taut over her knuckles, then released, a silent rhythm of tension and relief. Liam watched the way her throat moved when she swallowed, the way her lips parted just a fraction too long after the joke had ended, as if she’d forgotten how to close them. *Fuck.* He dragged a hand over his beard, the coarse hairs prickling against his palm. This wasn’t just chemistry. It was something sharper, something that made his pulse kick behind his ribs every time she looked at him.

He waited until the crew’s chatter faded into the background, until Melody was alone by the wardrobe rack, running her fingers over the fabric of her character’s coat. The space between them felt charged, like the air before a storm. Liam crossed it in a few long strides, his dress shoes quiet against the concrete floor.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmured, stopping just close enough that she’d have to tilt her head to meet his eyes.

Melody didn’t startle, but her breath caught. “Am I?”

“Yeah.” His voice was low, rough around the edges. “That scene—what we just did. That wasn’t acting.”

Her lashes fluttered, a telltale flush creeping up her neck. “Liam—”

“Don’t.” He cut her off with a shake of his head, stepping closer. The scent of her—something floral, something warm, like vanilla and rain—wrapped around him. “Don’t overanalyze it. Not yet.” His fingers twitched at his side, itching to reach for her. “Daniel’s right. What we have… it’s rare. And if we don’t lean into it, we’re cheating the film.”

Melody’s gaze dropped to his mouth, then snapped back up. “You mean *on* screen.”

The words hung between them, fragile as glass. Liam’s chest tightened. He should’ve lied. He should’ve let her believe that. But the way her pulse jumped in her throat, the way her body leaned toward his despite the warning in her eyes—fuck, he was tired of pretending.

“No,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t.”

Her inhale was sharp, her fingers curling into the fabric of her blouse. “That’s dangerous.”

“It is.” He didn’t touch her. Not yet. But he could *feel* her, the heat of her skin, the way her breath hitched when he exhaled. “But you felt it too. That moment—when I touched your face. You *stopped breathing*.”

Melody’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, her nipples pebbling against the thin fabric of her blouse. Liam’s gaze flicked down, then back up, deliberate. A challenge.

“This could ruin everything,” she whispered.

“Or it could make it *better*,” he countered, stepping close enough that their shoes brushed. “Think about it. No more guessing. No more holding back. We let this—” he gestured between them, “—fuel the scenes. No one gets hurt.”

Her laugh was brittle. “People always get hurt.”

Liam’s jaw clenched. He knew that fear. He *lived* it. But the way she was looking at him—like she wanted to climb inside his skin, like she was already mourning the loss of something they hadn’t even had—it gutted him.

“Not if we don’t let them,” he said, softer now. His hand lifted, hovering just shy of her waist. “Not if we’re honest about what this is.”

Melody’s breath trembled out of her. “And what is it, Liam?”

The question hung there, raw and aching. He could’ve lied. He could’ve called it chemistry, called it art, called it anything but the truth. But the way her eyes searched his, like she was already bracing for the fall—

“Something I don’t want to ignore,” he admitted.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then Melody’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist. Her fingers were cold, but her palm burned where it pressed against his skin. “We can’t do this here.”

Liam didn’t need to ask where. He followed her gaze to the row of trailers outside, the last one at the end with the peeling *Morris* sticker on the door. His cock twitched, thick and heavy in his slacks, at the thought of her leading him there, of the privacy of locked doors and whispered confessions.

“Then let’s go,” he said.

—

The trailer was smaller than Liam expected, the air thick with the scent of Melody’s perfume and the faint, lingering aroma of chamomile tea. She fumbled with the lock behind her, her back pressing against the door as if she needed the support. The space between them was a live wire, crackling with the kind of tension that made his skin too tight, his pulse too loud.

Melody didn’t speak. She just *looked* at him, her green eyes dark with something that wasn’t just desire—it was fear. Fear of what this could do to them. Fear of what it could *be*.

Liam broke first. He reached for her, his palm cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing the freckles dusted over her cheekbone. She leaned into the touch with a shuddering breath, her lashes fluttering closed.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

Her lips parted. “I—”

“Say it.” His voice was rough, his cock straining against his zipper. He needed her to. Needed the out, the excuse to walk away before this burned them both alive.

But Melody didn’t say it. Instead, her hands came up, gripping the front of his shirt, her knuckles white. “I don’t *want* to stop.”

The admission broke something in him. Liam groaned, low and guttural, and then his mouth was on hers. Not gentle. Not careful. *Hungry.* His tongue swept between her lips, tasting her, claiming her, and Melody moaned into him, her body arching against his. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just enough to sting, and Liam growled, his hands sliding down to her waist, then lower, gripping the curve of her ass. He lifted her effortlessly, and her legs wrapped around his hips, the heat of her core pressing against his stomach through the thin fabric of her skirt.

“Fuck,” he gasped against her mouth, his hips jerking involuntarily. “Melody—”

She kissed him harder, her teeth nipping his lower lip. “Shut up.”

Liam laughed breathlessly, spinning them until her back hit the wall of the trailer. The impact made her gasp, her head tipping back, and he took advantage, kissing down her throat, his teeth grazing the delicate skin over her pulse. She tasted like salt and something sweet, like the caramel candies she’d been snacking on between takes. His hands roamed up her ribs, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, and she whimpered, her back arching.

“Too many clothes,” she panted, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

Liam pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Then take them off.”

For a second, she hesitated. Then her hands stilled. “Together.”

The word sent a jolt through him. This wasn’t just sex. It was a surrender. A trust fall with no net.

“Okay,” he breathed.

He started with his shirt, his fingers working the buttons slow, deliberate. Melody watched, her breath coming faster as he peeled the fabric away, revealing the lean planes of his chest, the trail of dark hair that disappeared into his waistband. Her fingers followed, tracing the dips and ridges of his abs, her touch feather-light, like she was memorizing him.

“Your turn,” he murmured.

Melody’s hands trembled as she reached for the hem of her blouse. Liam’s cock throbbed at the sight, at the way her fingers hesitated before lifting the fabric over her head, revealing a lace bra the color of blush pink. Her nipples were hard, pressing against the delicate material, and Liam’s mouth watered.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his hands finding her waist again, his thumbs brushing the underswell of her breasts. “So fucking beautiful.”

She swallowed, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her skirt. “Yours next.”

Liam toed off his shoes, then unbuckled his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops obscenely loud in the quiet trailer. He pushed his slacks down, stepping out of them, his cock tenting his black boxer briefs. Melody’s breath hitched, her gaze locked on the outline of him, thick and heavy and *aching*.

“Touch me,” he demanded, his voice rough.

She didn’t hesitate. Her palm pressed against him through the fabric, her fingers curling around his length, and Liam hissed, his hips jerking into her touch.

“Melody—” His hands found her skirt, pushing it down her hips, leaving her in nothing but her bra and a pair of lace panties that matched. The sight of her—all soft curves and flushed skin—made his head spin.

“Lie down with me,” she whispered, taking his hand and leading him to the narrow bed at the back of the trailer.

Liam followed, crawling over her as she settled onto the mattress, her hair fanning out around her like a halo. He braced himself on his elbows, his body hovering over hers, their breaths mingling.

“What are we doing?” she asked, her voice small.

Liam pressed a kiss to her collarbone, then her throat, then the corner of her mouth. “Whatever the fuck we want.”

Her laugh was shaky, but her hands found his face, pulling him down for another kiss. This one was slower, deeper, their tongues sliding together in a rhythm that made his hips roll, his cock dragging against her thigh. Melody moaned, her legs parting, and Liam settled between them, the heat of her core searing through the thin layers of fabric between them.

“Please,” she breathed, her nails scraping down his back.

Liam groaned, his hand sliding between them, his fingers finding the damp lace of her panties. He rubbed slow circles over her clit, and Melody’s back arched, a broken sound tearing from her throat.

“Like that?” he murmured against her ear, his teeth grazing the lobe.

“Yes—*yes*—” Her hips rocked into his touch, her breath coming in sharp gasps. “Liam, I—”

“I know.” His fingers slipped beneath the lace, finding her bare, her folds slick and swollen. He groaned at the feel of her, so hot, so *wet*. “Fuck, Melody. You’re dripping.”

She whimpered, her thighs trembling as he slid a finger inside her, then another, curling them just right. Her walls clenched around him, her body tightening like a bowstring.

“Come for me,” he ordered, his thumb pressing down on her clit. “Let me feel you.”

Melody cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as her orgasm crashed over her. Her body pulsed around his fingers, her breath coming in ragged sobs, and Liam watched, mesmerized, as she came undone beneath him.

When she finally stilled, her chest heaving, Liam pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek. He didn’t stop until their mouths met again, slow and deep, like they had all the time in the world.

“My turn,” he murmured against her lips.

Melody’s hand slid between them, her fingers wrapping around his cock, and Liam hissed, his hips jerking into her touch.

“Not yet,” she whispered, pushing him onto his back. She straddled his hips, her thighs bracketing his waist, her hands finding the waistband of his briefs. “Let me.”

Liam’s breath stuttered as she pulled the fabric down, freeing his cock. It jutted up between them, thick and flushed, the tip already wet. Melody’s fingers wrapped around him, her thumb swiping over the slit, and Liam groaned, his head falling back.

“Fuck—”

She leaned down, her breath hot against his ear. “I want to taste you.”

Liam’s entire body locked up. “Melody—”

But she was already moving, kissing down his chest, her tongue swirling over his nipples before continuing lower. Her hair brushed his thighs as she settled between his legs, her green eyes locking onto his as she took him into her mouth.

“Oh *fuck*—” Liam’s hands flew to her hair, his fingers tangling in the soft waves as she took him deep, her lips sealing around the base. Her tongue swirled, her throat fluttering around the tip, and Liam’s vision whited out. “Melody, I’m gonna—”

She pulled back just enough to murmur, “I know,” before taking him again, her hand working the base in time with her mouth.

Liam’s orgasm hit him like a freight train, his cock pulsing as he came down her throat. Melody swallowed around him, her fingers digging into his hips, and Liam’s entire body shuddered, his breath ragged as he rode out the last waves of pleasure.

When she finally pulled back, licking her lips, Liam reached for her, hauling her up his body. He kissed her hard, tasting himself on her tongue, his hands gripping her waist.

“Stay,” he murmured against her mouth. “Stay with me.”

Melody’s breath hitched, but she nodded, her body melting against his as they settled onto the bed, their limbs tangled, their hearts pounding in sync.

For the first time in years, Liam didn’t feel like he was falling.

He felt like he’d finally landed.

Chapter Three: Raw Exposure

The second knock came sharper, more insistent. Melody’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around Liam’s forearm where it still rested against her waist. The trailer’s thin walls did nothing to muffle the sound—three rapid taps, followed by Daniel’s voice, low but unmistakable. “Mel? Liam? You in there?”

Liam exhaled through his nose, his chest rising against her bare shoulder. For a heartbeat, neither moved. The air between them was thick with the scent of sex—Melody’s perfume clinging to sweat-slicked skin, the musk of Liam’s release still lingering in the warm trailer air. His cock, half-hard and glistening, pressed against her thigh where she’d straddled him moments before. The reality of their situation crashed over them like a wave: half-dressed, tangled together, the director outside.

Melody’s pulse hammered in her throat. “Shit,” she whispered, her voice rough from moaning his name. She made to scramble off his lap, but Liam’s hand shot out, gripping her hip hard enough to leave fingerprints.

“Wait.” His voice was a gravelly command, his green eyes dark with something more than desire—possessiveness, maybe. Protection. “Just—give me a second.”

Daniel knocked again. “Guys? We’ve got a quick run-through for tomorrow’s scene. Need you both.”

Liam’s jaw clenched. He didn’t look away from Melody as he called out, “Five minutes,” his tone leaving no room for argument. Then, lower, just for her: “Fuck. Fuck.” His thumb traced the curve of her hipbone, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the shape of her. “You’re trembling.”

“I can’t—” Melody’s fingers flew to her hair, trying to smooth the wild waves, but it was useless. Her bra was still unhooked, the lace cups barely clinging to her breasts, her nipples tight and aching from Liam’s mouth. “He’ll know. God, he’ll know—”

“Let him.” Liam’s voice dropped to a growl. He shifted beneath her, his cock twitching against her thigh as if the idea of being caught turned him on. “Let him see what he’s fucking built with this role.” His hands slid up her ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. “You think he hasn’t noticed the way we look at each other? The way you react to me?”

Melody’s breath stuttered. “That’s different. That’s—”

“Acting?” Liam’s laugh was bitter. “Baby, we stopped acting the second you let me taste you.” His fingers pinched her nipple, just hard enough to make her gasp. “Now put your fucking clothes on before I decide I don’t give a shit who’s out there and bend you over that couch again.”

The threat sent a fresh wave of heat between her legs. Melody swallowed hard and forced herself to pull away, snatching her blouse from the floor. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the buttons, her skin still buzzing from Liam’s touch. She could feel his eyes on her, burning into her back as she stepped into her skirt, the fabric whispering against her thighs.

Liam didn’t bother with subtlety. He stood, his cock still heavy between his legs, and yanked his slacks up without bothering to tuck himself in. The bulge was obvious, the fabric straining over the thick ridge of his erection. Melody’s mouth went dry. “You’re not—”

“Hiding?” He smirked, grabbing his shirt but not putting it on. “No.” The word was final, his posture daring her to argue. “If Daniel’s got a problem with how his leads inspire each other, he can take it up with the studio.”

Melody’s stomach twisted. “Liam, this isn’t a game. If he thinks we’re—”

“What?” He stepped closer, his bare chest brushing her arm as he reached past her to grab the doorknob. “That we’re fucking?” His breath was hot against her ear. “That you came on my fingers like a good girl while I told you how pretty your cunt is when it’s wet?”

“Stop it,” she hissed, but her body betrayed her, her thighs pressing together at the filthy reminder.

Liam chuckled, low and dark. “Make me.” Then he was opening the door, the late afternoon light spilling in, framing him like some kind of sinful angel—all golden skin and smug satisfaction, his slacks still unzipped, his hair tousled from her fingers.

Daniel stood on the other side, his sharp eyes taking in the scene with the precision of a man who missed nothing. His gaze flicked from Liam’s bare chest to Melody’s flushed face, her hastily buttoned blouse, the way her skirt still clung to her hips like she’d just stepped into it. A slow, knowing smile curled his lips. “Well. I can see you two are really getting into character.”

Liam leaned against the doorframe, his arm casually slung above his head, the picture of unrepentant relaxation. “Just discussing the scene, Dan. Melody was helping me work through some motivation issues.”

Melody’s face burned. “Liam—”

Daniel’s laugh was rich, amused. “I bet she was.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, the trailer suddenly feeling even smaller with his presence. “Save it for the camera, kids. Though—” His eyes gleamed. “—if that’s the kind of method work you’re doing, I might need to adjust the schedule to give you more private rehearsal time.”

Melody’s hands twisted in the fabric of her skirt. “We were just—”

“Fucking around?” Daniel finished, dropping into the chair by the small table, his ankle crossing over his knee. “Relax, Mel. I’m not here to bust you. I’m here because whatever the hell that was?”—he gestured vaguely between them—“I want it on film. Tomorrow.”

Liam finally pulled his shirt on, but he didn’t button it, the fabric hanging open to reveal the trail of hair disappearing into his waistband. “You want us to what, exactly? Fuck on camera?”

Daniel didn’t blink. “I want the truth. The same raw, unfiltered shit I just walked in on.” He leaned forward. “You two have been dancing around this since day one. The tension is electric, but today? Today it was real.” His gaze cut to Melody. “You looked at him like you wanted to crawl out of your skin if he didn’t touch you. And you—” To Liam. “—you looked at her like you’d burn the whole set down if it meant getting her alone.” He spread his hands. “That’s the movie. That’s the story. So tomorrow, I don’t want acting. I want that.”

Melody’s breath came too fast. “You’re asking us to—”

“Use it,” Daniel said simply. “Whatever this is between you. Use it. Channel it. I don’t care if you’re fucking, fighting, or falling in love—just give me that energy.” He stood, smoothing his jacket. “Scene’s at noon. Be ready.”

Liam didn’t move from the doorway. “And if we’re not?”

Daniel paused, his smile fading just a fraction. “Then you’re wasting my time, and yours.” He stepped past Liam, then turned back. “Oh, and Rodgers?”

“Yeah?”

“Button your pants. Or don’t. But if you don’t, don’t be surprised if half the crew starts shipping you two before lunch.” With that, he was gone, the trailer door clicking shut behind him.

The silence that followed was deafening. Melody’s legs gave out, and she sank onto the couch, her hands covering her face. “Oh my god.”

Liam shut the door, the lock clicking into place with a finality that made her jump. “Hey.” His voice was softer now, the command in it replaced by something gentler. He knelt in front of her, his hands finding her knees, squeezing. “Look at me.”

She didn’t. “This is a disaster. He knows. Everyone’s going to—”

“Know what?” Liam’s thumbs traced circles over her kneecaps, slow and soothing. “That we’ve got chemistry? Mel, we’re actors. We’re supposed to have chemistry.”

“Not like this,” she whispered.

“Like what?” His hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher, his touch possessive even as his voice stayed calm. “Like the way you whimper when I bite your lip? Like the way your pussy clenches when I tell you how good you taste?” His fingers found the damp lace of her panties, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over her clit. “Like the way you beg when I don’t let you come?”

Melody’s back arched, a broken sound escaping her. “Liam, stop—”

“Why?” His breath was hot against her inner thigh as he pushed her legs apart, his mouth hovering just above the wet fabric. “Because Daniel might hear?” His tongue flicked out, tracing the seam of her panties, and she choked on a moan. “Or because you like it when I don’t listen?”

She should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve told him to stop, that this was insane, that they were playing with fire. But the first drag of his tongue over her clit through the lace short-circuited every rational thought. “Fuck,” she gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair. “We can’t—he’ll—”

“He’s gone,” Liam murmured against her, his breath making the fabric stick to her swollen lips. “And if he comes back?” His teeth grazed her through the lace, and she jerked, her hips lifting off the couch. “Then he gets a preview of tomorrow’s performance.”

The word was a taunt, a challenge. Melody’s mind raced—this was reckless, irresponsible, insane—but her body was already winning the argument. Her thighs fell open wider, her back arching as Liam’s fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties and yanked them down. The cool air hit her wet heat, and then his mouth was on her, his tongue delving between her folds with a groan that vibrated against her clit.

“Oh god—” Her hands fisted in his hair, her hips rocking against his face. “Liam, please—”

“Please what?” He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with her arousal. “You want me to stop?” His fingers replaced his mouth, two of them sliding inside her with a slow, deliberate curl that had her seeing stars. “Or you want me to make you come so hard you forget your own name?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her nails scraping his scalp. “Both. Fuck.”

Liam chuckled, the sound dark and satisfied. “Greedy girl.” His mouth sealed over her again, his tongue working her clit in tight, relentless circles while his fingers pumped in and out of her. Melody’s vision blurred, her body coiling tighter with every stroke, every suck, every filthy word he growled against her.

“You’re dripping, baby,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to let the cool air hit her overheated skin. “Such a pretty little slut for me, aren’t you? Letting me eat this sweet cunt even when you know we shouldn’t.” His fingers crooked inside her, finding that spot that made her back bow off the couch. “You like that, don’t you? Liking being bad.”

“Yes—” The word tore out of her, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs clamped around his head, her fingers twisting in his hair as she rode his face, her cries muffled against her own arm. Liam didn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working her through it until she was a trembling, boneless mess beneath him.

When she finally slumped back against the couch, her chest heaving, Liam pressed a slow, filthy kiss to her inner thigh before pulling away. His chin was shiny with her, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “Now that’s a performance worth filming.”

Melody could only whimper, her body still humming, her mind too foggy to form words. Liam stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning down to press a slow, possessive kiss to her lips. She could taste herself on him, salty and sweet, and the realization sent another pulse of heat through her.

“We should…” She swallowed, trying to gather her thoughts. “We should go. Separately.”

Liam smirked, finally buttoning his slacks. “Scared, Morris?”

“Terrified,” she admitted.

He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her lower lip. “Good.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Means you’re still thinking. Still feeling.” He kissed her again, slower this time, deeper. “Tomorrow, we give them what they want. But tonight?” His forehead rested against hers. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

Melody’s heart stuttered. She should’ve argued. Should’ve told him this was a mistake, that they were crossing lines they couldn’t uncross. But as she looked into his eyes, dark with promise and something far more dangerous, all she could manage was a shaky breath and a whispered, “Yes.”

Chapter Four: Confessions in the Shadows

The moment Melody’s breathless “Yes” slipped past her lips, Liam’s control snapped. His fingers tightened around her thighs, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just above her knees, as if claiming her all over again. The trailer’s dim lighting cast long shadows across her flushed skin, the golden glow from the doorway painting her in warm, sinful hues. She was still trembling from the last orgasm he’d wrung from her, her blouse half-buttoned, her bra dangling uselessly from one shoulder. The scent of her—sweet, musky, and intoxicating—filled his lungs, making his cock throb against the confines of his slacks.

He didn’t give her time to recover.

With a growl, Liam surged forward, his body crowding hers as he shoved her back against the trailer wall. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, her head thudding softly against the thin paneling. His mouth crashed onto hers before she could even gasp, his tongue forcing its way past her lips in a deep, claiming kiss. She tasted like sin—like the cum he’d just fed her, like the desperate whimpers she’d choked out when his fingers had been buried inside her. His hands slid up her waist, gripping the fabric of her blouse before tearing it open. Buttons scattered across the floor like discarded promises, pinging against the wood. Melody let out a muffled cry into his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders, but she didn’t push him away. She never did.

“You think this is just for the cameras?” Liam snarled, tearing his lips from hers just long enough to bite down on her bottom lip, hard. She whimpered, her body arching into his. His fingers found her nipples, already tight and aching, and pinched them between his knuckles, rolling them until she was gasping. “You think I don’t know how wet you get when Daniel’s not even in the fucking room?” His free hand slid down her stomach, shoving her skirt up around her hips before his palm cupped her bare pussy. No panties. Of course not. She’d been too eager for him earlier, too desperate to bother with them. His fingers slid through her folds, finding her soaked, her arousal coating his skin. “Fucking dripping,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. “You’re a goddamn liar, Melody. But I’m gonna make you tell the truth.”

Her breath hitched as two of his fingers plunged inside her without warning, curling upward to stroke that sweet, swollen spot deep within her. Her back arched off the wall, her hips jerking helplessly against his hand. “L-Liam—” His name came out as a broken moan, her voice already thick with the promise of another climax.

“Say it,” he demanded, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as his fingers fucked her harder, his thumb circling her clit in tight, punishing strokes. “Say you want me. Not for the scene. Not for the fucking movie. For me.”

Her nails raked down his chest, her body trembling as she tried to form words. “I—I can’t—”

“You can,” he growled, adding a third finger, stretching her, filling her until she was choking on a sob. “You will.” His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her neck, biting down just enough to make her whimper. “Or I’ll walk out that door right now and leave you like this—aching, empty, begging for me to finish what I started.” His fingers stilled inside her, his thumb pressing down on her clit without moving, denying her the friction she craved. “Your choice, sweetheart.”

Melody’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body straining against his, her pussy clenching around his motionless fingers. She could feel the wet sounds of her arousal every time she shifted, the obscene slickness of her own desire. The trailer was too small, the air too thick, her skin too hot. She was going to combust if he didn’t—

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Yes, I want you. Only you.”

A feral noise tore from Liam’s throat as he crushed his mouth to hers again, his fingers driving into her with renewed force. She cried out into the kiss, her body convulsing as he fucked her with his hand, his palm slapping against her clit with every thrust. The wall at her back was the only thing keeping her upright, her legs shaking, her mind blanking out with pleasure. He swallowed every sound she made, his tongue tangling with hers, his teeth nipping at her lips until she could taste copper.

Then, without warning, he ripped his hand from her pussy, leaving her empty and whining in protest. Before she could even process the loss, he was spinning her around, pressing her front against the wall. His body covered hers, his chest to her back, his cock a thick, insistent ridge against her ass. One of his hands fisted in her hair, yanking her head back just enough to expose the delicate column of her throat. His other hand slid down her stomach, his fingers diving between her thighs again, gathering her wetness before dragging it up to her asshole. She stiffened, a shocked gasp leaving her lips.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice dark and rough as he circled the tight pucker with her own arousal, pressing just the tip of his finger inside. “I’m not fucking you here yet.” The yet hung between them, heavy with promise. “But you’re gonna take my cock like a good girl, aren’t you?” His finger breached her just a little further, the burn of the stretch making her whimper. “Aren’t you?”

“Y-yes,” she stuttered, her body trembling. She could feel how wet she was, how ready, her pussy throbbing with the need to be filled.

Liam didn’t make her wait.

With a rough shove, he forced her upper body down, bending her over until her palms were flat against the wall, her ass jutting back toward him. The position left her completely exposed, her skirt hiked up around her waist, her bare pussy glistening in the dim light. Liam’s breath hitched as he took in the sight, his cock straining painfully against his slacks. He didn’t bother undressing further. There was no time, no patience left in him. His zipper came down with a sharp snik, his cock springing free, already leaking at the tip. He gave himself a few rough strokes, his gaze locked on the way her thighs quivered, the way her breath came in shallow, needy pants.

Then he was lining himself up, the broad head of his cock pressing against her entrance. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice a low, possessive rumble. “Say it.”

Melody’s fingers curled against the wall, her body tensing in anticipation. “I’m yours.”

He drove into her in one brutal thrust.

The stretch was almost too much—she cried out, her body jerking forward from the force of it, her pussy struggling to accommodate his thickness. He was huge, filling her to the brink, the burn of it edging into pleasure as her walls fluttered around him. Liam groaned, his hips slamming against her ass as he bottomed out, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he grunted, pulling back before slamming into her again. The trailer creaked around them, the thin walls doing little to muffle the wet, obscene sounds of their bodies coming together. Melody’s moans were high and broken, her breath hitching every time he hit that perfect, deep spot inside her. His cock dragged against her walls, the ridge of his crown rubbing her in ways that made her see stars.

“Liam—please—” she begged, her voice raw. She could feel another orgasm building, coiling tight in her belly, her thighs shaking with the effort of staying upright.

“Please what?” he demanded, his hips snapping forward, his balls slapping against her with every thrust. “You want me to fuck you harder?” He did, driving into her with enough force to make her toes curl. “Or do you want me to make you come?” His hand snaked around her hip, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing in tight, relentless circles.

“Both—god, both—” Her words dissolved into a keening wail as her body detonated, her pussy clamping down around his cock like a vise. The orgasm ripped through her, her vision whiting out as pleasure consumed her, her nails scraping against the wall. Liam didn’t let up. He fucked her through it, his own release building as her inner muscles milked him, her body trembling with aftershocks.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice strained. “Take it. Take all of it.” His thrusts turned erratic, his control unraveling as his climax crashed over him. With a guttural curse, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he came deep inside her, his cum filling her in hot, thick spurts. Melody whimpered, her body still sensitive, her pussy fluttering around him as he emptied himself into her.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the trailer were their ragged breathing and the distant hum of the set outside. Liam stayed buried inside her, his forehead pressed against the back of her shoulder, his hands still gripping her hips possessively. The air between them was thick with the scent of sex, their skin slick with sweat.

Then, slowly, he pulled out.

Melody let out a shaky breath as his cock slipped free, a rush of his cum dripping down her thighs. She could feel it—hot, sticky, his—trickling between her legs, a physical reminder of what they’d just done. What they kept doing, no matter how reckless it was.

Liam turned her around, his hands cupping her face as he forced her to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, his expression unreadable. “We’re not done,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her swollen lower lip. “This isn’t just for the cameras, Melody. It’s never just been for the cameras.” His voice dropped, rough and honest. “And if you think I’m letting you walk away from this—from us—after the shoot wraps, you’re fucking delusional.”

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding. The trailer door was still ajar, the risk of being caught ever-present. But in that moment, she didn’t care. She wanted to be caught. Wanted the world to know.

“Then don’t,” she whispered, her fingers curling into the front of his open shirt. “Don’t let me.”

Chapter Five: Script of Passion

The trailer’s air was thick with the scent of them—sweat, sex, and something darker, something that clung to the back of the throat like the aftertaste of whiskey. Liam’s pulse still hammered in his ears, his cock aching with the memory of being buried inside her, the way her body had clenched around him like she never wanted to let go. His fingers twitched with the ghost of her skin beneath them, the way she’d arched into his touch, her nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks. *Good.* He wanted her to leave marks. Wanted to wear her like a brand.

Melody’s breath hitched as he laced their fingers together, her pulse fluttering wildly against his thumb. She was still trembling, her body humming with the aftershocks of what they’d just done—what *he’d* done to her. The thought sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to his groin. His cock, already half-hard again, throbbed in time with his heartbeat, the damp fabric of his slacks clinging to him like a second skin. He could still taste her on his lips, still feel the way her thighs had quivered around his head when he’d had his mouth on her.

He didn’t give her time to overthink it.

With a low, possessive sound, he guided her toward the couch, the worn leather creaking beneath them as he eased her down. The cool surface made her gasp, her bare ass pressing into the cracked upholstery, her legs falling open in silent invitation. Liam’s gaze darkened. *Fuck.* She was still a mess—her blouse torn open, her bra dangling uselessly from one shoulder, her skin flushed and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. His cum glistened on her thighs, streaked across her skin like a claim. *Mine.*

He dropped to his knees before her, the movement deliberate, worshipful. The position put his face level with the apex of her thighs, her scent wrapping around him like a drug. His hands slid up the outsides of her legs, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of her inner thighs, spreading her wider. Melody’s breath stuttered, her fingers clawing at the couch cushions, her knuckles white.

“Liam—” His name on her lips was a warning, a plea, a surrender all at once.

“Shh.” His voice was rough, his breath fanning over her exposed pussy. “Just *look* at you.”

And he did.

His gaze traced every inch of her—the way her folds glistened, still swollen from his cock, her clit peeking out from its hood, flushed and sensitive. His thumb brushed over it lightly, and she jerked, a broken whimper spilling from her lips. The sound went straight to his dick. He could’ve taken her again right then, buried himself inside her and fucked her until neither of them could walk. But no. Not yet.

First, he wanted to *taste* her.

His palms mapped the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, the trembling expanse of her stomach. When his fingers grazed the undersides of her breasts, she arched into the touch, her back lifting off the couch, her nipples tight little points beneath the lace. He could see the outline of them, the fabric damp where his mouth had been earlier. His cock twitched, pre-cum leaking into his boxers.

“Fuck, you’re *perfect*,” he groaned, leaning in to press his mouth to the soft skin just above her navel. His tongue flicked out, tasting salt and heat and *her.* Melody’s fingers flew to his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp as she gasped.

“Liam, we—” She swallowed hard, her thighs trembling. “We should clean up. Someone could—”

“Let them.” His lips trailed higher, tracing the space between her ribs, his breath hot against her skin. “Let them hear you.”

A shudder ran through her. He could *see* the war in her eyes—the fear of being caught, the thrill of it, the way her body betrayed her with every hitch of her breath, every shift of her hips. His mouth found the underside of her breast, his tongue swirling in slow, wet circles over the sensitive flesh. When his teeth grazed her nipple through the lace, she cried out, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“Please—” The word was broken, desperate.

Liam chuckled, the vibration making her whimper. “Since you asked so nicely.”

His fingers hooked into the lace of her bra, tugging it down just enough to free her breasts. The cool air hit her damp skin, making her shiver, but his mouth followed instantly, sealing over one tight nipple. He sucked hard, his tongue flicking the sensitive tip before he released it with a wet *pop.* Melody moaned, her back arching, her hips rolling up off the couch.

“Oh *god*—”

“That’s it,” he growled, switching to the other breast, his free hand squeezing and kneading the flesh he’d just abandoned. “Louder. I want to hear you.”

She was past caring about who might be listening. The trailer walls were thin, the door still cracked open—Daniel could walk in at any second, or worse, one of the PAs—but the thought only made her wetter, her body tightening with a fresh wave of arousal. Liam’s mouth was *everywhere,* his teeth nipping at the swell of her breast, his tongue soothing the sting before he sucked her nipple deep, hollowing his cheeks until she was panting, her fingers tangled in his hair.

“You’re *dripping*,” he murmured against her skin, his hand sliding down her stomach, his fingers parting her folds. “Still so fucking wet for me.”

Melody whimpered, her hips rolling into his touch. “I—I can’t help it—”

“Good.” His fingers circled her clit, slow and deliberate, his thumb pressing just hard enough to make her gasp. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

She should’ve been sore. Overstimulated. But her body betrayed her, her pussy clenching around nothing, her thighs trembling as she spread them wider, silently begging for more. Liam’s mouth left her breasts, trailing lower, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to her stomach, her hips, the delicate skin of her inner thighs. When he reached the apex, he paused, his breath hot against her soaked folds.

“Liam, *please*—” Melody’s voice was raw, desperate.

He looked up at her, his green eyes dark with lust, his lips glistening. “Tell me what you want, Melody.”

She whimpered, her fingers twisting in his hair. “You know—”

“I want to *hear* it.” His thumb pressed harder against her clit, making her jerk. “Use your words.”

Her face burned. “I want your *mouth.*”

A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Then his tongue was on her, flat and broad, dragging through her folds from entrance to clit in one long, slow lick. Melody’s back arched off the couch, a broken cry tearing from her throat. Liam groaned against her, the vibration making her tremble, before he did it again. And again. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her open as he feasted, his tongue swirling around her clit before flicking it in rapid, relentless strokes.

“Oh *fuck*—” Melody’s fingers clenched in his hair, her hips bucking against his face. “Liam, I—I can’t—”

“You can,” he growled, pulling back just long enough to speak before diving back in, his tongue spearing into her tight hole. “And you *will.*”

She was going to come. He could feel it in the way her thighs trembled, the way her breath came in sharp, desperate gasps, the way her pussy fluttered around his fingers when he slid two inside her, curling them upward to stroke that sensitive spot deep within. Her body coiled tight, her muscles locking—

And then he pulled back.

Melody whined, her hips chasing his mouth, but he evaded her, pressing a chaste kiss to her inner thigh instead. “No, no, no—” she panted, her voice breaking. “Don’t *stop*—”

Liam chuckled darkly. “Beg me.”

She was past pride. Past shame. “*Please,* Liam. *Please* let me come.”

His mouth was on her again before the last word left her lips, his tongue lashing her clit with punishing precision. His fingers fucked her slow and deep, his thumb pressing down on her clit in tight little circles. Melody screamed, her body locking up as the orgasm crashed over her, her pussy clenching around his fingers, her thighs shaking violently.

Liam didn’t let up. He licked and sucked her through it, drawing out every last tremor, his fingers fucking her slowly, milking her pleasure until she was boneless and gasping, her skin slick with sweat. Only then did he pull back, pressing a final, lingering kiss to her inner thigh before resting his forehead against her knee. His breath came in ragged bursts, his cock throbbing painfully against the confines of his slacks.

Melody’s fingers found his jaw, tilting his face up to meet her gaze. Her eyes were glazed, her lips swollen from biting them, her chest heaving. “You’re *insatiable*,” she breathed.

Liam smirked, his lips wet with her. “Only for you.”

He shifted, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist before turning her hand over, pressing his mouth to her palm. His tongue traced the lines there, slow and deliberate, before he pulled back, his gaze locked on hers.

“You’re not just a scene partner, Melody.” His voice was rough, raw. “You’re the script I never want to stop reading.”

Her breath hitched. For a moment, the weight of his words hung between them, heavier than the sex, heavier than the risk of being caught. Then she reached for him, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt, pulling him up until their lips crashed together.

She tasted herself on him. Salt and sweet and something uniquely *Liam.* His hands found her waist, lifting her effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around him as he settled between her thighs, the couch groaning under their weight.

“Then don’t stop,” she whispered against his mouth. “Read me *again.*”

Liam growled, his hands sliding under her ass to lift her against him, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. He was still dressed, his slacks rough against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, the fabric damp with her arousal. The thought of taking her like this—fully clothed while she was bare and open beneath him—sent a fresh surge of lust through him.

“You’re sure?” he rasped, even as his hips rolled, the tip of his cock breaching her.

Melody moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Fuck yes.”

That was all he needed.

He thrust into her in one smooth motion, burying himself to the hilt. Melody cried out, her back arching, her pussy clenching around him like a fist. *Fuck.* She was so tight, so wet, her walls fluttering around his cock as he pulled back and slammed into her again.

“Liam—*harder*—” she gasped, her legs locking around his waist.

He groaned, his hands gripping her hips as he fucked her in deep, punishing strokes, the couch creaking beneath them. The angle was perfect, his cock hitting that spot inside her with every thrust, her nails raking down his back through his shirt.

“You feel *so good*,” he growled, his mouth crashing onto hers. His tongue plunged between her lips, mimicking the rhythm of his hips, his cock pistoning in and out of her slick heat. “So fucking *tight.*”

Melody whimpered into the kiss, her body trembling, her pussy fluttering around him. She was close again. He could feel it in the way her muscles tensed, the way her breath hitched.

“Come for me,” he demanded, his voice rough against her lips. “Come on my *cock.*”

Her orgasm hit her like a freight train. She screamed into his mouth, her body locking up, her pussy milking his cock as she came. The sensation sent him over the edge, his release tearing through him as he buried himself deep and came with a groan, his cum filling her in hot, thick pulses.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Liam stayed buried inside her, his forehead pressed to hers, their breath mingling in the small space between them. Melody’s fingers traced lazy patterns on the back of his neck, her body still trembling with the aftershocks.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. His cock twitched inside her, still half-hard, and he smirked.

“Still think we should’ve stopped?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her swollen lower lip.

Melody laughed breathlessly, her thighs squeezing around his waist. “Not a chance in hell.”

Chapter Six: Tangled Scripts

The air in the trailer still clung to the scent of sex—musky, thick, and impossible to ignore. Liam’s fingers traced the curve of Melody’s hip, his touch lingering even as the weight of reality pressed in. The set waited. The script demanded distance. And yet, here they were, tangled together, their bodies still humming from the last climax, his cock softening inside her but unwilling to let go.

Melody exhaled shakily, her nails digging into the nape of his neck. “We have to go back out there.”

Liam groaned, his breath hot against her collarbone. “Five more minutes.”

“Liam.” Her voice was strained, but not from pleasure this time. The script lay crumpled beside them, the pages marked with today’s scene—the fight. The one where their characters were supposed to tear each other apart with words, not hands. Not teeth.

He finally pulled back, his cock slipping free with a wet sound that made her thighs clench. Cum dripped down her inner thigh, sticky and warm, a reminder of what they’d just done—what they kept doing, no matter how reckless it was. Liam reached for a tissue from the side table, his movements deliberate as he cleaned her, his fingers pressing just a little too hard, like he was branding her skin. “You’re thinking too loud,” he murmured.

Melody swallowed, watching as he tucked himself back into his pants, adjusting his shirt. The fabric clung to his chest, the faint outline of sweat darkening the fabric. She could still taste him on her tongue. “We can’t do this during the next scene.”

His smirk was slow, dangerous. “Do what? Fuck like we’re trying to ruin each other?”

“Act like we’re not.” She pulled her dress back into place, the vintage fabric clinging to her damp skin. The seam at the hip had torn further—his fault, his hands, his teeth—and she’d have to explain that to wardrobe. Again.

Liam buttoned his cuffs, his gaze never leaving her. “You’re the one who keeps begging for my cock, sweetheart. Don’t act like this is a one-way street.”

Melody’s cheeks burned. She had begged. She’d screamed. And now she was supposed to stand across from him in front of cameras and pretend she didn’t know exactly how his voice roughened when he was close, how his fingers bruised when he was desperate. “This isn’t about that. It’s about the movie.”

“The movie where we’re supposed to hate each other for three scenes?” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. It was messy, sex-tousled, and he didn’t bother fixing it. Let them all see. Let them guess. “We’ve got two days of cold shoulders and sharp glances. You really think that’s gonna be a problem after what we just did?”

She grabbed her script off the couch, the pages crinkling in her grip. “It’s gonna be a problem if we can’t sell it.”

Liam stepped closer, crowding her space, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. She could still feel the sting from where he’d bitten her earlier. “Baby, we could sell anything right now. You think I don’t know how to make you look at me like you want to kill me?” His voice dropped, rough and intimate. “I’ve had you looking at me like you want me to fucking destroy you.”

Melody’s breath hitched. God, he was right. That was the problem. She did want that. Even now, with the set buzzing outside the trailer door, with Daniel’s voice carrying through the thin walls as he barked orders at the crew, she wanted Liam’s hands on her again. Wanted his mouth, his control.

She stepped back, forcing space between them. “We need to take a break. From this.” She gestured between them, her fingers trembling. “Just until we get through these scenes. No touching. No—” She cut herself off before she could say no fucking, because even the word in her head made her pulse jump. “No distractions.”

Liam’s expression darkened. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” She lifted her chin, but her voice wavered. “We have to make this believable. If we’re all over each other off-camera, it’s gonna show.”

“Or it’ll make it better.” His hand shot out, gripping her wrist, his thumb pressing into the delicate skin of her inner arm. “You think hate and lust are that different? You think I don’t know how to twist this”—he tugged her forward, her body colliding with his—“into something that looks like you can’t stand me?”

Melody’s pulse spiked. She could feel it—the way her body reacted to him, the way her breath came faster, her nipples tightening under the thin fabric of her dress. “Liam, please.”

He released her abruptly, stepping back like she’d burned him. “Fine. Your rules.” His voice was clipped, his jaw tight. “But don’t expect me to play nice when you’re the one who keeps breaking.”

---

The set was a flurry of activity when they stepped out, the artificial glow of the studio lights casting long shadows across the faux café interior. Daniel spotted them immediately, his sharp eyes flicking between them. “There you are. We’re ready for the first take.”

Melody forced a smile, her fingers twisting around the strap of her bag. “Sorry. Just—going over lines.”

Daniel didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press. “Good. Because this scene’s a bitch, and I need you both in it.” He turned to the crew. “Places! Let’s get this rolling.”

Liam didn’t look at her as they took their positions. The script called for them to be seated across from each other at a small, round table, the kind of intimate setting that would make their fight feel even more claustrophobic. Melody sat first, smoothing her dress over her thighs, hyper-aware of the way the fabric still clung to her skin, damp in places it shouldn’t be. Liam pulled out his chair with deliberate slowness, the legs scraping against the floor. The sound grated, but she refused to react.

“Action!”

The first line was hers. “You really think I’d just let you walk away after everything?”

Liam’s gaze snapped to hers, his green eyes burning. “I think you don’t have a choice.”

The words were scripted, but the way he said them—the low, dangerous edge—sent a shiver down her spine. This was the first time they’d played enemies, and it felt wrong. Like wearing a costume two sizes too small.

Melody leaned forward, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. “You’re a coward. That’s all you’ve ever been.”

Liam’s smirk was razor-sharp. “And you’re a liar.” He reached across the table, his fingers brushing over the back of her hand. The touch was feather-light, but it might as well have been a brand. “But we both know you like it that way.”

She jerked her hand back. “Cut!”

Daniel’s voice boomed through the set. “What the hell was that?”

Melody’s face burned. She’d broken. She’d flinched. And now the entire crew had seen it.

Liam leaned back in his chair, his expression maddeningly calm. “She’s tense. We need another take.”

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ. Melody, you okay?”

“Fine,” she lied. “Just—let’s try again.”

The second take wasn’t better. If anything, it was worse. Every line felt like a landmine, every glance a betrayal. Liam played it too well—his voice dripping with disdain, his body language closed off, cold. But his eyes… his eyes were hot. Like he was daring her to push back. Daring her to fight.

By the third take, Melody’s hands were shaking. “You don’t get to decide what I want.”

Liam’s laugh was bitter, his fingers drumming against the tabletop. “No? Then why are you still here?”

She opened her mouth to retort, but the words died in her throat. Because he was right. She was still here. Still playing this game. Still letting him get under her skin.

“Cut!” Daniel threw his hands up. “We’re losing the scene. Take five. Both of you—cool off.”

Melody didn’t wait. She stood so fast her chair screeched against the floor, storming toward the edge of the set. She needed air. She needed space. But before she could escape, Liam’s hand closed around her bicep, yanking her into the shadowed corner behind a fake bookshelf.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hissed.

“Let go of me.” She tried to twist free, but his grip was iron.

“No.” His free hand cupped her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You want to play this game? Fine. But you don’t get to run every time it gets hard.”

“This isn’t a game!” Her voice was a desperate whisper. “This is my job!”

“And you’re failing at it.” His thumb pressed into her cheekbone. “You think I don’t see you? You think I don’t know what you need?”

She swallowed hard. “I need you to back off.”

Liam’s laugh was dark, disbelieving. “Bullshit.” His mouth crashed onto hers, his teeth nipping her bottom lip hard enough to sting. Melody gasped, her hands flying to his chest—but instead of pushing him away, her fingers curled into his shirt, clutching at him. His tongue swept into her mouth, possessive, punishing, and she melted. Her body betrayed her in an instant, her hips arching into his, her breath coming in ragged little whimpers.

Liam groaned against her lips, his hand sliding down to grip her thigh, his fingers inching toward the hem of her dress. “You want this,” he growled. “You want me to fuck you right here, don’t you? Want me to bend you over and remind you who you belong to.”

Melody’s vision blurred. “Liam—”

“Say it.” His fingers found the damp heat between her thighs, rubbing in slow, maddening circles. “Say you’re mine.”

A whimper tore from her throat. She was his. She’d been his since the first time he’d touched her. But if she said it now, if she admitted it—

“People are watching.” The words were a broken plea.

Liam’s lips curved against hers. “Let them.”

And then—

“Melody! Liam!” Daniel’s voice cut through the haze like a blade. “We’re ready!””

Liam pulled back just enough to press his forehead to hers, his breath hot and unsteady. “This isn’t over.”

Melody didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded once, her body still throbbing, her lips swollen from his kiss. When he finally released her, she had to steady herself against the bookshelf, her legs unsteady.

She could do this. She had to.

But as she walked back onto the set, her skin still burning where he’d touched her, she knew one thing for certain:

This break was already doomed.

Chapter Seven: Uncontrolled Hunger

The moment the trailer door swung shut behind them, Melody whirled on Liam, her green eyes burning with a fury that had been simmering since his fingers had last traced her skin. The scent of sex still clung to the air—musky, thick, a reminder of how easily he could unravel her—but she refused to let it distract her this time. Her script was crumpled in her grip, the pages bent from where she’d clenched it during the failed take, and she hurled it at his chest. The edges caught against his unbuttoned shirt, fluttering to the floor between them like a surrendered flag.

“Enough,” she hissed, her voice low and trembling with restraint. “I am *done*, Liam. Done with your hands on me when the cameras aren’t rolling. Done with you deciding when I get to breathe. Done with you acting like this—” she gestured wildly between them, “—is anything but a fucking power trip for you.”

Liam didn’t move to pick up the script. Instead, his gaze darkened, tracking the rise and fall of her chest as she fought to steady her breath. The torn seam of her dress gaped slightly at the hip, the fabric still damp where his mouth had been earlier, and the sight of it made his fingers twitch. “You didn’t seem to mind my hands on you ten minutes ago,” he murmured, stepping closer. The trailer was too small, the space between them charged with the memory of how she’d arched into him, how her nails had dug into his neck when he’d—

“That was a *mistake*,” she snapped, sidestepping him when he reached for her. The back of her thighs hit the edge of the vanity, the cold surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating off him. “One I’m not repeating. We had an agreement. *One scene.* That’s it.”

His laugh was a low, rough sound, devoid of humor. “You think this is about the scene?” He crowded her, bracing his hands on either side of the vanity, caging her in. The scent of his cologne—cedar and something darker, like burnt amber—wrapped around her, and she hated how her body reacted, how her pulse jumped in her throat. “This was never just about the fucking script, Melody. You know that.”

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “Then what is it about, Liam? Hmm? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you get off on making sure I’m off-balance. On making sure I *need* you.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she cursed herself for it. Weakness. He’d always find the cracks and pry them open.

His expression flickered—something raw, almost pained, crossing his features before he shuttered it. “You think I don’t *need* you too?” The words were a growl, his breath hot against her ear as he leaned in. “You think I like watching you pull away every time I get too close? You’re the only one who’s ever—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “Fuck.”

Melody’s chest ached. She could hear the unspoken words hanging between them, heavy as the silence after a slap. But she couldn’t afford to soften. Not now. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, pressing her palms against his chest. His heart hammered beneath her touch, betraying the cool indifference he tried to project. “We have a job to do. And if you can’t keep your dick in your pants long enough to film a *single scene* without derailing it, then maybe you’re not as good an actor as you think.”

That hit him. She saw it in the way his muscles locked, in the way his eyes turned flinty. For a second, she thought he might kiss her again—claim her mouth just to prove he could. But then the trailer door rattled, and Daniel’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“*Five minutes, you two!*” The director’s knock was sharp, impatient. “*We’re burning daylight, and I’m not paying this crew to watch you sulk in here like teenagers.*”

Liam didn’t move. His gaze bored into hers, searching, daring her to look away. But Melody held his stare, her chin lifting defiantly. She wouldn’t back down. Not this time.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a velvet threat. “Fine. If that’s how you want it.” He straightened, rolling his shoulders back as if shedding the weight of their argument. “But don’t expect me to play nice when the cameras are rolling, sweetheart. If you want enemies on screen, you’re gonna *get* them.”

The warning sent a shiver down her spine, but she masked it with a cold smile. “Good. Maybe you’ll finally remember your lines.”

—

The set was a minefield.

Melody stepped onto the faux café floor, the linoleum sticky beneath her bare feet, and immediately felt the weight of Liam’s gaze on her. He was already in position at their table, his posture deceptively relaxed—one arm draped over the back of his chair, the other resting on the script. But his fingers tapped an irregular rhythm against the paper, a tell. He was pissed. And worse, he was *focused*.

Daniel clapped his hands once, sharp. “*Places, people! Let’s not fuck this up again.*” His tone brooked no argument, but the look he shot Melody as she took her seat was heavy with unspoken warning. *Fix this.*

She ignored it, smoothing her dress over her thighs. The fabric still clung in places, the dampness a ghost of Liam’s mouth, his hands, his—

“*Action!*”

Liam’s voice cut through her thoughts like a whip. “*You actually think you can walk away from me?*” His character’s line, but the way he said it—low, deliberate, his eyes glinting with something far more personal—sent a jolt through her.

Melody’s character was supposed to laugh. A bitter, dismissive sound. But her throat was too tight, her skin too aware of the way his knee brushed hers under the table. “*I already have,*” she forced out, but the words lacked the venom they needed. She could feel the crew’s eyes on them, the weight of their scrutiny like a physical pressure.

Liam leaned in, his cologne wrapping around her, his breath warm against her cheek. “*Liar.*” His hand shot out, fingers gripping her wrist—not the scripted touch, but *his* touch, possessive and bruising. The camera wouldn’t catch the way his thumb traced the inside of her pulse point, but *she* felt it. “*You’re still trembling for me.*”

She wasn’t supposed to react. But her body betrayed her, a shiver racing up her spine. The script called for her to yank her hand back, to snap a retort. Instead, she froze.

“*Cut!*” Daniel’s voice was a gunshot. The set fell silent.

Liam didn’t let go. His grip tightened, his thumb pressing harder into her wrist, as if he could brand her through skin and bone. “*Problem?*” he asked, not looking at Daniel. His gaze was locked on Melody, daring her to break.

She tore her arm free, the movement sharp enough that the chair scraped against the floor. “*Yeah,*” she said, her voice steady despite the way her heart hammered. “*There’s a problem. We can’t do this scene if you’re going to improvise *your* bullshit into it.*”

Liam’s smile was slow, dangerous. “*I’m just giving the audience what they want, darling. *Chemistry.*””

“*What they want is for us to stick to the fucking script!*” she shot back.

Daniel stepped between them before Liam could retort, his face thunderous. “*Enough.*” He grabbed Melody’s arm, hauling her aside while a PA reset the chairs. “*What the *hell* is going on with you two?*” he hissed, low enough that the crew wouldn’t hear. “*This isn’t high school drama. This is your *career.**”

Melody crossed her arms, her nails digging into her biceps. “*He can’t keep his hands to himself.*”

“*And you can’t keep your head in the game,*” Daniel countered. “*I don’t give a *damn* what’s happening off-screen, but if you two don’t figure your shit out *now*, I will recast both of you so fast your agents won’t know what hit them.*”

The threat hung between them, stark and undeniable. Melody’s stomach twisted. This was *her* role. The one she’d fought for. The one that was supposed to prove she wasn’t just another pretty face with a decent cry.

She glanced past Daniel. Liam was watching her, his expression unreadable. But his posture was rigid, his hands clenched on the tabletop. He wasn’t backing down. And neither could she.

“*Fine,*” she said, turning back to Daniel. “*We’ll fix it.*”

“*See that you do,*” Daniel muttered, storming off to confer with the DP.

Melody didn’t give herself time to second-guess. She marched back to Liam, stopping just out of arm’s reach. “*We do this *my* way,*” she said, her voice low. “*No improvising. No *touching*. We stick to the script, word for word. And when the scene is over, we walk away.*”

Liam’s eyebrow arched. “*Your way?*”

“*Yes.*”

“*And if I don’t agree?*”

She met his gaze, unflinching. “*Then I go to Daniel and tell him you’re sabotaging this film. And trust me, Liam—he’ll believe me.*”

For a long moment, he just stared at her. Then, slowly, he leaned back in his chair, spreading his hands in mock surrender. “*Wouldn’t dream of it, *boss.**” The word was a taunt, a reminder of every time she’d called him that in bed, breathless and begging.

Melody ignored the heat flooding her cheeks. “*Good,*” she said. “*Then let’s get this over with.*”

—

The next take was worse.

Not because Liam touched her. He didn’t. Not because he strayed from the script. He didn’t do that either.

It was because he *obeyed*.

Every line was delivered with precision, his voice cold, his expressions perfectly calibrated to their characters’ disdain. But his eyes—*oh, his eyes*—burned with something else entirely. Something dark and hungry, tracking her every movement like a predator denied its prey.

Melody could feel it. The way his gaze lingered on her mouth when she spoke. The way his fingers flexed against the table when she stood, as if fighting the urge to reach for her. The way his voice dropped an octave when he delivered his final line, “*You’ll be back.*” Not a threat. A promise.

She stumbled over her reply.

“*Cut!*” Daniel’s voice was a growl. “*Melody, what the *fuck* was that?*”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Because Liam was already standing, already closing the distance between them, his hand cupping her elbow before she could step away. “*You want professional?*” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “*Then act like it.*”

The crew was watching. Daniel was watching. But all Melody could focus on was the way Liam’s thumb traced slow, maddening circles on the inside of her arm, right over the spot where her pulse fluttered wildly. “*Let go of me,*” she whispered.

“*Make me,*” he challenged, his voice a velvet dare.

She should’ve kneed him. Should’ve screamed. Should’ve done *something*.

But the cameras were rolling again.

And this time, when Liam’s character leaned in to snarl, “*You’re mine,*” she didn’t flinch.

She *leaned into it*.

Their lips crashed together—hot, bruising, *wrong*. The script didn’t call for a kiss. The *scene* didn’t call for it. But the way Liam’s hand fisted in her hair, the way his tongue demanded entrance, the way her body *melted* against his—none of that was acting.

“*CUT!*” Daniel’s roar barely registered over the blood rushing in Melody’s ears.

Liam pulled back first, his breath ragged, his eyes black with triumph. “*Now that,*” he said, loud enough for the crew to hear, “*is how you sell a fucking scene.*”

Melody’s hand flew to her mouth. Her lips were swollen, her skin on fire. And worst of all—

She was *wet*.

Daniel was in her face before she could recover. “*What the *hell* was that?*” he demanded.

Liam answered before she could. “*That,*” he said, gesturing between them, “*was two professionals giving the audience what they *paid* to see.*”

Melody wanted to slap him. Wanted to *kiss him again*. Instead, she forced her spine straight and met Daniel’s glare. “*It won’t happen again,*” she said.

But as she turned to leave the set, her body still humming from Liam’s touch, she knew it was a lie.

And from the smirk he gave her as she walked away, *so did he*.

Chapter Eight: Kneeling Confessions

The trailer door slammed shut behind Melody with a finality that echoed through the cramped space, the metal latch clicking like a gunshot. She didn’t turn around—couldn’t. Her fingers trembled as she pressed them against the cool surface of the vanity, the edge biting into her palms just enough to ground her. The dress clung to her skin, the damp fabric a taunting reminder of how easily Liam had unraveled her on set, how his mouth had stolen her breath and left her knees weak. She could still taste him—whiskey and something darker, something that made her stomach twist with equal parts fury and hunger.

The air in the trailer was thick, saturated with the scent of her own arousal and the faint, musky trace of Liam’s cologne, something woodsy and expensive that had seeped into the upholstery the last time he’d been here. She swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her throat. One step. Then another. She could do this. She could strip off this goddamn dress, scrub the memory of his hands from her skin, and walk back onto that set like none of it had happened.

She didn’t hear the door open.

Didn’t hear the quiet, deliberate click of the lock sliding into place.

But she felt him—the way the air shifted, the way her body reacted before her mind could catch up, her nipples tightening beneath the damp fabric, her breath hitching just slightly. A shiver ran down her spine, and she cursed herself for it.

“Melody.”

His voice was low, rough, like gravel under slow-moving water. She squeezed her eyes shut, her nails digging crescents into her palms. Don’t turn around. Don’t let him see how he affects you.

“Get out,” she said, the words steady despite the way her voice threatened to crack. “I don’t want you here.”

A beat of silence. Then, the whisper of fabric—his shirt, maybe, brushing against the door as he leaned back against it. The trailer was small. Too small. She could feel the heat of him at her back, could imagine the way his broad shoulders would fill the narrow space, the way his thighs would flex if he took a single step closer.

She didn’t realize he had moved until his breath ghosted over the nape of her neck, warm and unsteady.

“You don’t get to decide that,” he murmured.

Her spine stiffened. “The hell I don’t.”

She whirled around, ready to shove him back, to scream if she had to—but the words died in her throat.

Because Liam wasn’t standing.

He was on his knees.

The sight of him like that—tall, powerful Liam Rodgers, his dark hair tousled from where he’d run his hands through it, his broad shoulders hunched just slightly as he knelt on the thin carpet of her trailer—sent a jolt through her so violent she nearly staggered. His hands were braced on his thighs, fingers splayed, knuckles white. His gaze was fixed on the hem of her dress, where the fabric still clung to her skin, darkened from the dampness of his touch earlier. From the way he’d owned her on that set, in front of everyone, like she was his and he was done pretending otherwise.

Her breath came faster, shallow little gasps that did nothing to fill her lungs.

“Liam—”

He didn’t let her finish.

One moment, she was standing there, frozen, and the next, his mouth was pressed against the damp fabric of her dress, right where his fingers had been mere minutes ago. The heat of his lips seared through the thin material, his breath warm and damp against her thigh. She jerked, a broken sound escaping her, but his hands came up to grip her hips, holding her in place as his lips moved in a slow, worshipful press.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her skin, the words muffled by the fabric. His voice was rough, almost pained. “I’m sorry, Melody.”

She should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve screamed, should’ve something. But the way he said her name—like a prayer, like an apology, like a man who’d finally run out of excuses—rooted her to the spot. His thumbs traced slow, maddening circles over the curve of her hipbones, the callouses on his fingers catching on the fabric of her dress.

Then his hands were moving.

Not up. Not yet.

Down.

His fingers hooked into the hem of her dress, his knuckles brushing against the backs of her knees as he began to peel the fabric upward, inch by agonizing inch. The cool air hit her exposed skin, raising goosebumps in its wake, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his breath as he followed the path his hands made, pressing kisses to the newly bared flesh of her thighs.

“Liam,” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her hands fluttered at her sides, unsure whether to stop him or grip his hair and pull him closer. “What are you—?”

“Shh.” His breath ghosted over her skin, and she shuddered. “Let me.”

The dress inched higher, the fabric whispering against her skin as he revealed more of her—first her thighs, then the lace edge of her panties, then the soft swell of her stomach. His lips followed, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the inside of her knee, the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, the dip of her hipbone. Each touch was slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing her. Like he was worshipping her.

And God, it was working.

Her legs trembled, her knees threatening to give out as his mouth trailed higher, his breath hot through the damp lace of her panties. She could feel the shape of his words against her, the vibration of his voice as he murmured, “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have—fuck—I shouldn’t have made you feel like you didn’t have a choice.”

His fingers tightened on the fabric of her dress, and with one sharp tug, he pulled it the rest of the way up, bunching it around her waist. The cool air hit her exposed lower half, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he looked up at her, his green eyes dark and hungry, his lips parted.

She should’ve stopped him.

She should have.

But the way he was looking at her—like she was the only thing in the world worth kneeling for—stole the protest from her lips.

His hands slid up the backs of her thighs, his touch firm, possessive, as he urged her legs apart just enough to fit his shoulders between them. The first press of his mouth through the lace of her panties made her gasp, her fingers flying to his hair, gripping the thick strands without meaning to. He groaned against her, the sound vibrating through the damp fabric, and then his tongue was there, hot and insistent, tracing the shape of her through the lace.

“Liam—oh God—” Her head fell back, her hips jerking forward of their own accord. The pleasure was sharp, almost painful in its intensity, and she could feel how wet she was, how the lace clung to her, how his mouth was the only thing keeping her upright.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, and with a sharp tug, he dragged them down her legs, leaving her completely bare to him. The air hit her exposed pussy, cool and shocking, but it was nothing compared to the way his breath stuttered when he looked at her.

“Fuck, Melody,” he rasped, his voice so rough it was almost a growl. “You’re dripping.”

She should’ve been embarrassed. Should’ve covered herself, should’ve something. But the way he was looking at her—like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen—made her feel powerful. Made her feel wanted.

His hands slid up the backs of her thighs again, his thumbs spreading her open, and then his mouth was on her, his tongue flat and hot as he dragged it through her folds. She cried out, her fingers tightening in his hair, her hips rolling against his face without shame. He groaned, the sound muffled against her, and then his lips sealed around her clit, sucking hard.

“Ahhh—fuck—” Her knees buckled, but his hands were there, gripping her thighs, holding her up as he worked her with his mouth, his tongue flicking and swirling, his lips sealing around her clit before releasing with a wet pop that had her whimpering.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growled, his breath hot against her. “I could eat this pretty pussy all day. Would you let me, Melody? Would you let me worship you like this every fucking day?”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through her, her hips jerking forward as his tongue delved deeper, circling her entrance before dragging back up to her clit. She could feel her orgasm building, coiling tight in her stomach, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Liam—I’m—I’m going to—”

He pulled back just enough to growl, “Come on my tongue, baby. Let me taste you.”

And then his mouth was back on her, his tongue working her clit in tight, relentless circles, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs as she rode his face, her moans filling the trailer. The pleasure crested, sharp and overwhelming, and she came with a broken cry, her body shuddering as waves of release crashed over her.

Liam didn’t stop.

He lapped at her through it, his tongue softening as her tremors eased, his lips pressing kisses to her inner thighs, her mound, the sensitive flesh of her pussy. She was oversensitive, her skin tingling, but she didn’t pull away. Couldn’t.

When he finally leaned back, his lips glistened with her, his breath coming hard. He looked up at her, his gaze dark and possessive, and she knew—knew—this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

But for now, as she stood there trembling, her dress still bunched around her waist, her pussy throbbing from his mouth, she let herself pretend that this—him, on his knees for her—was enough.

For now.

Chapter Nine: In the Crossfire of Desire

The trailer’s door burst open with a sharp *crack*, the hinge groaning under the force. Melody’s breath hitched, her body stiffening as the sudden flood of light cut through the dim, intimate haze of the trailer. Liam’s lips were still glistening with her, his fingers curled possessively around her hips, when the silhouette of a man filled the doorway. Daniel stood frozen, his sharp features locked in an expression of sheer disbelief, eyes darting between them—Liam on his knees, Melody’s dress still hitched around her waist, her thighs slick and trembling.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Melody’s pulse roared in her ears, her skin prickling with the cold rush of exposure. She should’ve been terrified—should’ve scrambled to cover herself, to stammer out some excuse—but the way Liam’s grip tightened, the way his body shifted *instantly* to shield her, sent a different kind of heat flooding through her. His broad shoulders blocked Daniel’s view of her most vulnerable parts, his free hand snapping up to yank the hem of her dress down just enough to conceal the worst of it. Not out of shame. Out of *ownership*.

“Get the *fuck* out,” Liam growled, his voice a low, lethal vibration that made the air in the trailer thicken. He didn’t look at Daniel. His gaze stayed locked on Melody, his thumb brushing a soothing circle over the bare skin of her hip beneath the fabric, as if to say, *I’ve got you.* His lips, still wet from her, parted slightly, breath coming faster now—not from exertion, but from the adrenaline of being caught, of being *forced* to claim what was his in front of a witness.

Daniel didn’t flinch. His jaw tightened, fingers flexing around the doorframe like he was debating whether to slam it shut or step inside. “What the *hell*—”

“You heard me.” Liam finally turned his head, just enough to pin Daniel with a glare that could’ve stripped paint. His free hand—still slick with Melody’s arousal—lifted in a sharp, dismissive gesture. “This isn’t your scene. *Leave.*”

Melody’s nails dug into Liam’s shoulder, her other hand flying to her chest as if she could physically press her heart back into rhythm. She should’ve been mortified. Should’ve been *apologizing*, explaining, doing *something* to salvage her professional reputation. But the way Liam’s body radiated heat against hers, the way his muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike if Daniel so much as *breathed* wrong—it sent a dark, forbidden thrill spiraling through her. This wasn’t just protection. This was a *declaration*.

Daniel’s gaze flicked to Melody, lingering on the flush high in her cheeks, the way her lips were still swollen from Liam’s mouth. His nostrils flared, and for a second, she swore she saw something flicker in his eyes—not anger, not even judgment, but something *calculating*. “Melody,” he said, voice low, “you good?”

The question hung between them, heavy with implication. *Are you safe? Do you need me to intervene? Or is this exactly what you want?*

Liam’s fingers twitched against her hip, a silent warning. *Lie to him.*

She swallowed, her throat dry. “I—I’m fine.”

Daniel’s brow arched. “You don’t *look* fine.”

Liam’s patience snapped. He surged to his feet in one fluid motion, his body still angled between Melody and Daniel like a human shield. The sudden shift made her stumble back a step, her bare thighs pressing against the edge of the vanity. “She said she’s fine,” Liam bit out, his voice a blade. “And you’re *still* here. That’s a problem.”

Daniel’s gaze dropped to the front of Liam’s pants, where the fabric strained obscenely against his erection, the damp spot at the knee of his jeans a dead giveaway. A muscle feathered in Daniel’s jaw. “This is my *set*, Rodgers. My *film*. You don’t get to—”

“*This*—” Liam gestured sharply between himself and Melody, “—has nothing to do with your fucking film. Not right now.” His hand found Melody’s again, fingers threading through hers, squeezing. *Stay with me.* “We’re not on the clock. We’re not *performing*. So unless you want a lawsuit for violating privacy, I suggest you walk the fuck away.”

Daniel’s laugh was sharp, humorless. “You’re threatening me? Over *this*?” His gaze raked over Melody again, lingering on the way her dress still clung to her damp thighs, the way her nipples were visibly hard beneath the fabric. “You two have been playing with fire since day one. I *told* you—chemistry like this doesn’t stay on screen.”

Liam stepped forward, forcing Daniel back half a pace. “And I told you to *leave*.”

For a heartbeat, the trailer felt like a powder keg. Daniel’s eyes narrowed, his fingers twitching like he was itching to grab Liam by the collar and haul him out. But then his gaze cut to Melody again, and whatever he saw there—her flushed skin, the way her breath hitched when Liam’s thumb brushed her wrist—made his expression darken. “Fine,” he muttered. “But this isn’t over.” He took a deliberate step back, then another, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “You’ve got *one hour*, Rodgers. Then we’re shooting the bedroom scene. And if you two can’t keep your hands off each other long enough to *act* instead of fucking, I’ll recast you both so fast your agents won’t know what hit them.”

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing like a gunshot.

Silence.

Melody’s legs nearly gave out. She sagged against the vanity, her fingers gripping the edge so hard her knuckles turned white. The trailer felt too small suddenly, the air too thick, her skin too sensitive—everywhere Liam had touched her still burning. She could *taste* him on her tongue, feel the ghost of his mouth between her thighs, and now Daniel—*fucking Daniel*—knew. He’d *seen*.

Liam didn’t move. He stood there, chest heaving, his back to the door like he was still bracing for an attack. Then, slow and deliberate, he turned to face her.

His eyes were *black* with hunger.

“You okay?” His voice was rough, like gravel under boots.

Melody let out a shaky laugh, high and unhinged. “Okay? Liam, he *saw*—”

“*I know.*” He closed the distance between them in two strides, his hands finding her waist, gripping hard enough to bruise. “And I don’t give a *shit*.”

She should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve slapped him, screamed at him, *something*. But the way he was looking at her—like she was the only thing in the world worth fighting for—made her stomach clench. “You *threatened* him,” she whispered. “He could fire us. He could *ruin* us.”

Liam’s thumbs traced the dip of her waist, his touch maddeningly gentle after the ferocity of his outburst. “Let him try.”

Her breath hitched. “Liam—”

“No.” His fingers slid up, cupping her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m *done* pretending, Melody. I’m done letting you pretend.” His thumb brushed her lower lip, still sensitive from his kisses. “You think I didn’t see the way you *looked* at me when he walked in? You think I didn’t *feel* you trembling—not from fear, but because you *liked* it? Because you *wanted* him to see?”

Her cheeks burned. “That’s not—”

“*It is.*” His mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing her protest. His kiss was *filthy*—tongue sweeping in deep, tasting himself on her, groaning when she moaned into his mouth. His hands slid down, gripping her ass, lifting her onto the vanity in one smooth motion. The cold countertop bit into her bare thighs, but she barely noticed. All she could focus on was the way his cock, still hard as iron, ground against her through his jeans, the way his breath came in ragged bursts against her lips. “You *loved* it,” he growled. “You loved knowing he saw you like this. *Mine.*”

She should’ve denied it. Should’ve been horrified. But the word tore out of her before she could stop it: “*Yes.*”

Liam’s groan was primal. His hands fisted in her hair, yanking her head back just enough to expose her throat. His lips sealed over her pulse point, teeth grazing, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “Fuck, baby,” he rasped. “You’re *dripping* again. I can *smell* you.”

Melody’s hips jerked, her thighs squeezing around his waist. The friction of his jeans against her bare, sensitive flesh sent a jolt of pleasure through her. “Liam, we can’t—”

“We *can*.” His fingers found the hem of her dress, shoving it up again, baring her to the waist. His gaze dropped, darkening as he took in the mess he’d made of her—the swollen, glistening lips of her pussy, the way her clit was already flushed and throbbing. “And we *will*.” His thumb pressed down, circling once, twice, and she *whimpered*, her back arching. “You think I’m gonna let you walk out of here without my cum inside you? After he *saw* you like this?” His fingers slid lower, two of them pressing into her without warning. “After *I* saw you like this?”

She cried out, her nails raking down his back. He was right—she was *soaked*, her body clenching around his fingers like it was trying to pull him deeper. “Please—”

“Please *what*?” His free hand tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to make her gasp. “Use your words, Melody. Tell me what you need.”

Her face burned. “I need *you*.”

His chuckle was dark, triumphant. “Where?” His fingers curled inside her, hitting that spot that made her vision white out. “Here?” His thumb pressed down on her clit, rubbing in tight, relentless circles. “Or here?”

“*Both*,” she sobbed. “God, Liam, *please*—”

He didn’t make her beg again.

His fingers withdrew, leaving her empty and aching, but only for a second—just long enough to fumble with his belt, his zipper, the sound of metal teeth parting obscenely loud in the charged silence. Then his cock was in his hand, thick and flushed, the tip already weeping, and she *whined*, her hips lifting off the counter.

“Patience, baby,” he murmured, but his voice was strained, his control fraying. He stroked himself once, twice, his gaze locked on where she was spread open for him. “Fuck, look at you. Look at this *pretty* pussy.” His thumb dragged through her folds, gathering her wetness, then pressed against her asshole. “You ever been fucked here, Melody?”

Her breath stuttered. “N-no.”

His groan was guttural. “One day.” His thumb pressed in just the tip, not enough to hurt, just enough to make her *feel* it, to make her imagine. “But not today.” His cock nudged against her entrance, the head slipping through her folds, coating himself in her. “Today, I’m gonna fuck this tight little cunt until you scream my name loud enough for *everyone* on set to hear.”

She should’ve been embarrassed. Should’ve told him to stop. But the thought of Daniel outside, of the crew milling about, of the entire world knowing she was *his*—it sent another rush of wetness flooding between her thighs.

Liam *felt* it. His eyes rolled back, a shudder running through him. “Jesus *fuck*,” he hissed. Then he was pushing inside her, one thick inch at a time, stretching her open, filling her so *deep* she could feel him in her throat.

Melody’s head fell back, a broken sound tearing from her lips. He was *huge*, the burn of him almost too much, but god, she *needed* it. Needed the way he bottomed out, his hips flush against hers, his cock pulsing inside her. Needed the way his breath came in ragged gasps, his forehead pressing to hers, his voice a raw whisper. “You feel *that*? Feel how *good* you take me?”

She could only nod, her fingers clawing at his shoulders.

He didn’t give her time to adjust. He pulled back and *slammed* into her, the vanity rattling against the wall. “Say it,” he demanded, his hips snapping forward again, again, each thrust deeper than the last. “Say you’re *mine*.”

“*Yours*,” she gasped. “Oh god, Liam, I’m *yours*—”

His mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing her cries as he *fucked* her—hard, deep, *relentless*. The trailer filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping skin, her wetness, his groans, her whimpers. His hand found her throat, fingers wrapping just tight enough to make her pulse race, his thumb pressing against her jaw to tilt her head back. “Look at me,” he ordered. “I want to see your face when you come on my cock.”

She obeyed, her gaze locking with his. His eyes were *black*, his lips parted, his breath coming in sharp bursts. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Fuck, you’re *perfect*.” His thumb found her clit again, rubbing in tight, punishing circles. “Come for me, baby. *Now.*”

The orgasm hit her like a freight train. Her back bowed, a scream tearing from her throat as her body clenched around him, her vision whiting out. Liam didn’t stop. He *chased* his own release, his thrusts turning erratic, his cock swelling inside her. “Fuck, *fuck*—” His hand tightened in her hair, yanking her head back as he buried his face against her throat, his teeth sinking into the tender skin of her shoulder as he came with a broken groan, his cum pulsing deep inside her.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Liam stayed buried inside her, his breath hot against her skin, his heart hammering against hers. Then, slow and careful, he pulled back just enough to press a kiss to the mark he’d left on her shoulder. “Mine,” he murmured again, like a vow.

Melody could only nod, her body still trembling, her mind still reeling.

They were so *fucked*.

And she didn’t care.

Chapter Ten: Tension on the Set

The intercom’s static crackle sliced through the heavy silence of the trailer, the mechanical voice announcing, *”Bedroom scene ready on set. Five minutes.”* Liam didn’t move at first, his breath still uneven, his fingers lingering against the warm skin of Melody’s thigh where he’d been gripping her moments before. The air between them was thick with the scent of sex—her arousal still glistening on his lips, the musk of his own need clinging to the space around them. His jeans were barely zipped, the bulge of his cock still straining against the fabric, refusing to soften despite the interruption.

Melody’s chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, her dress still hitched up around her hips, the fabric damp where his mouth had been. Her nipples were hard little points against the thin material of her bodice, betraying how close she’d been to coming again before Daniel had barged in. She should’ve fixed herself by now. Should’ve smoothed her hair, wiped the smear of lipstick from Liam’s jaw, pretended this was just another rehearsal. But she didn’t. She stayed exactly as he’d left her—undone, exposed, *his*—and the way his dark eyes raked over her, possessive and hungry, told her he knew it.

Liam finally exhaled, a low, rough sound, before leaning in until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. His voice was a velvet growl, meant only for her. *”You think I’m done with you?”* His fingers traced the inside of her knee, slow and deliberate, watching her shiver. *”That was just the warm-up, sweetheart. Now you get to beg for me on camera.”* He pulled back just enough to see her reaction, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of her wrist, feeling the way it jumped. *”And you *will* beg.”*

Melody’s throat went dry. She should’ve argued. Should’ve reminded him of Daniel’s threat, of the cameras, of the fact that they were seconds away from being called to set where they’d have to perform this same scene—*fake* it—for an audience. But the way he was looking at her, like he already owned every gasp, every whimper she’d give him… it short-circuited every rational thought. *”You’re insane,”* she whispered, but her voice lacked conviction, her body arching into his touch without permission.

Liam smirked, dark and knowing, as he finally straightened, adjusting himself with a slow, deliberate tug of his zipper that made her stomach clench. *”Insane for you.”* He stepped back, but not before dragging his knuckles over the swell of her breast, his touch lingering just long enough to make her nip at her lower lip. *”Now get your pretty ass on set, *darling*. We’ve got a scene to shoot.”*

The walk to the soundstage was a blur of tension. Melody’s skin felt too tight, her dress clinging to places that were still sensitive from his mouth, his hands, his *words*. She could feel Liam’s presence behind her like a physical weight, his gaze burning into the back of her neck as they navigated the maze of cables and equipment. The crew barely glanced up as they took their positions—this wasn’t their first intimate scene, after all—but the air between them was different now. *Charged.* Like a live wire, humming with the promise of what was coming.

The bedroom set was a replica of the trailer’s interior—same dim lighting, same rumpled sheets, same oppressive intimacy. The camera crew moved into position, the director calling out final adjustments, but Melody barely heard any of it. Her focus was locked on Liam as he shed his jacket, the play of muscle beneath his shirt as he rolled up his sleeves. He caught her staring and arched a brow, a silent dare in his eyes. *You want this. You want me.*

*”Places!”* the director called.

Melody swallowed hard as she settled onto the edge of the bed, her fingers trembling slightly as she smoothed the skirt of her dress. The script called for flirtation, for teasing—*innocent* foreplay. But the way Liam stalked toward her, his movements predatory, his gaze dark with promise, told her this wouldn’t be innocent at all.

He didn’t touch her at first. Just stood there, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, his cologne wrapping around her like a spell. *”You look nervous, *love*,”* he murmured, low enough that only she would hear. His hand lifted, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her shoulder, his touch feather-light. *”Or is it just anticipation?”*

Melody’s breath hitched. The cameras were rolling. The crew was watching. But none of that mattered when his thumb grazed her collarbone, slow and deliberate, before dipping lower, tracing the neckline of her dress. *”Cut!”* the director barked suddenly, and Liam pulled away with a smirk, leaving her skin burning where he’d touched. *”Too stiff. We need more chemistry. *More heat.*”*

Liam’s laugh was a dark chuckle as he turned back to her, his voice dropping to a whisper. *”Oh, we’ll give them heat.”* His hand shot out, gripping the back of her neck, and before she could react, his mouth crashed onto hers.

It wasn’t a scripted kiss. It was *punishment.* A claim. His tongue forced its way past her lips, deep and demanding, his teeth nipping at her lower lip hard enough to make her gasp. Melody’s hands flew to his chest, not to push him away but to anchor herself, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as he devoured her. The camera lenses whirred, capturing every second, but she didn’t care. Not when his free hand slid up her thigh, his fingers inching beneath her dress, teasing the damp lace of her panties.

*”That’s it,”* Liam growled against her mouth, his voice rough with need. *”Let them see how much you want me.”* His fingers pressed harder, the pad of his thumb finding her clit through the fabric, circling just once before pulling away. Melody’s hips jerked forward, chasing his touch, a broken whimper spilling from her lips.

The director didn’t call cut this time.

Liam’s grin was pure sin as he pulled back, his gaze locked onto hers. *”Say it,”* he demanded, his voice loud enough now for the microphones to catch. *”Tell me who you belong to.”*

Melody’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with the effort of holding back. The cameras were still rolling. The crew was still watching. But none of that mattered anymore. Not when Liam’s hand was back on her thigh, his fingers tracing patterns that made her ache. *”You,”* she breathed, her voice shaking. *”I’m yours.”*

The words hung in the air between them, raw and final. Liam’s expression darkened, his grip on her neck tightening just enough to make her pulse spike. *”Again,”* he ordered, his thumb pressing against her clit through the lace, *hard.* *”Louder. So every fucking person in this room knows.”*

*”I’m yours!”* Melody cried out, her back arching as pleasure coiled tight in her belly. The cameras whirred. The crew held their breath. And Liam—*fucking Liam*—leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as his fingers worked her through the fabric, his voice a dark promise.

*”Good girl.”* His teeth sank into her earlobe, just shy of painful. *”Now scream for me.”*

And she did.