JustWyatt, looking over the set with an expression I’m not sure I want to name.
Justme, staring at a beautiful man who hates me almost as much as I adore him.
I stop short so suddenly, Grayson nearly barrels into my back. His hand curls around my shoulder, tugging me close. I don’t notice much. I’m fully focused on Wyatt.
He looks incredible.
Biceps straining at the fabric of his sleeves, thick bronze hair pulled back into a bun with a distinct leather strap, chiseled features set in such a hard expression, he might as well be crafted out of marble. For a few breathless seconds, the whole world stops turning. My feet fail. My heart actually stops beating inside my chest, which should land me in the record books as the first twenty-two-year-old in history to die of heart failure from merelylookingat a man.
I don’t care in the slightest.
I would happily die, right here, just for the privilege of seeing him in the flesh.
My eyes drink him in. I had not realized, until this instant, how starved I was for his presence. How much I craved his steady composure, his stalwart guidance, his unfailing positivity. He’s twenty feet away, but the distance seems insurmountable. I ache more than ever, as I stare across the space separating our bodies. I miss him like a plant misses sunlight.
Infinitely blue irises burn into mine with incongruous heat and steel-edged anger— the same irises that have haunted my dreams for weeks, since the night of the cast party when I stripped down to my skin and he grabbed me by the heart with those big hands, unfurling a relentless passion I was thoroughly unprepared for.
I do not notice my hand creeping up to lay across my stomach until it is already there, pressing firmly. I do not acknowledge Grayson, who collides to a stop at my back, full of petulant words I have no interest in. The passion I felt for him a moment ago is but a dim, flickering candlelight.
Wyatt is the sun.
My mouth opens. I need to say something. To fix this. To fixus, even though there is no such thing asus, because we never existed anywhere outside the realms of a drunken mistake.
No. It was not a mistake.
How could the most beautiful moments of my life be an error? How could I ever regret something so all-consuming?
“Wyatt,” I whisper. My lips shape the word but the sound barely passes through them. He does not hear me, or chooses not to. Instead, his eyes break from mine to focus on the man behind me. So he does not see the sadness twisting my mouth, the regret pulling my brows together; all he sees is Grayson’s hold on my arm, on my hip, his mouth poised by my ear, his poisonous words working through me like honey laced with arsenic.
I see something in those incredible blue eyes shutter. He calls something I cannot hear to Sloan, then turns away and heads for the side door.
He’sleaving.
I feel my heart lurch.
“Wyatt!” I call, voice stronger this time.
He doesn’t stop. I try to follow, but Grayson’s grip on my arm holds me pinned. I struggle against him, watching my Viking fade into the shadows, helpless to stop it.
“Let go of me,” I hiss at Grayson, tugging futilely.
He ignores me.
“Hey, Sloan,” Grayson calls, still holding me captive. “I know I’m not the creative director here, but don’t you need a few shots of us kissing for the promotional posters? After all, like you said… it’s a romance, not a war drama.”
Sloan pauses, midway through storing his camera lenses. His head tilts as he considers the thought. “Hmm… Well, we can’t use anything with you two kissing in the marketing— a bit too heavy-handed for billboards. But maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a few secondary shots, just in case we want—”
“No!” I yell, wrenching my arm out of Grayson’s hold. I nearly rip my joint from the socket in the process, but at least I’m free. “No. I’m sorry, but I’m not doing any kissing scenes.”
“Kat, be reasonable—” Grayson starts.
“I have to go.”
Sloan jolts, startled, as I rush past him. His voice carries after me as I race for the side door Wyatt disappeared through.
“But, Kat, what about the meeting this afternoon at my place—”
“I’ll be there!” I yell over my shoulder, not pausing as I barrel through the doorway and plow straight into Harper. She’s so surprised by my sudden appearance in the hallway, she nearly upends her makeup cart all over the floor.