Chapter 8

* Daniel *

I would have been a nervous wreck heading into rehearsals if it hadn't provided a welcome distraction from my current obsession with all things Williams. I was even able to get into the role to the extent that I could work easily with him and Angela, without losing myself in a puddle of drool. Maybe that was why, when he came up at the end of rehearsal and asked me to join him for a drink, I said yes instead of freezing or panicking. I even kept my head enough to stipulate my no-alcohol rule. No sense in losing control and making an ass out of myself in front of him. I was already risking doing that without any chemical assistance.

Our conversation in the cafe was intensely frustrating, though. With what Kelly had told me, I kept thinking I was getting signals of interest from him, but they were never definite enough to be sure. I didn't dare let my hopes get that high: It would crush me if I were to reveal my own desire for him only to be politely rejected. Williams seemed kind, genuinely interested in knowing me better, and a little solicitous of my well-being—but not in the least flirtatious.

Then he said it. "I can't think of anything I'd like better than spending time with you."

Was that what it sounded like? Or had he just misspoken and not realized it? Did he mean "you" as in me and Kelly? My stomach churned around the mocha I had just finished. I couldn't do this, I wasn't brave enough to follow up on that. Just like I wasn't brave enough to pursue acting, wasn't brave enough to walk out on Brian the first time he hurt me. Yeah, that's me, Daniel the Cowardly Lion. I made some excuse and headed out, headed home where it was safe, where no Hollywood demigods could make confusing conversations with me.

He could tell something was wrong, I'm sure. He followed me out, saying he would walk me home. Nothing could have made me happier, and perversely, nothing could have made me agree to that just then. I was trembling from anxiety and need. He thought it was because I was cold. So sweet of him. So clueless.

I was all set to bolt and run when he told me to wait, and grabbed my arm. Our eyes met, and I caught my breath at what I saw there.

He was just as afraid as I was. Jeff Williams, this gorgeous, successful, talented man, wanted me—me!—and didn't know how to show it. I would have laughed with joy and wonder and relief if I we hadn't already been sharing a kiss so intense it made me dizzy.

Next thing I knew, I had agreed to go home with him. No second thoughts, no regrets, I simply said yes. I could overthink this tomorrow, and I probably would. Tonight was just about us. Dreams don't come true very often. Enjoy it when they do.

* * * * * * * * *

Fortunately, Jeff's home wasn't very far away, or I don't think we would have ever made it. He couldn't seem to keep his eyes away from me and on the road. If he had been pulled over for any of his numerous traffic violations—the list included driving fifteen miles per hour over the posted limit, running multiple stop signs, and nearly sideswiping a row of parked cars—I wouldn't have known whether to hail the officer as my savior or kill him for cockblocking. The sheer terror of that drive at least helped cool my hormones down enough that I could put one foot in front of the other when we finally pulled into the driveway. Jeff opened the car door for me, and held my hand tightly as he escorted me—hurriedly—to the door.

His house was beautiful, masculine and understated, tasteful and unpretentious in muted wood tones, grays, and blues. Not that I really was able to take in much more than a quick impression at the time, given I was actually standing there facing Jeff Williams. We were both breathing heavily. I was trembling again.

"Here we are. Home sweet home." He kissed the back of my hand. "Welcome."

"It's awesome," I answered. I wasn't looking at anything but him, and he knew it. But then, I don't think he had taken his eyes off me, either.

"Can I get you anything? A drink, a snack? I could give you a tour of the house, or..."

I stopped his mouth with a kiss. I had committed to this, whatever this was, and I wasn't going to leave any doubt about what I truly wanted. His other hand lightly cupped the back of my neck.

"Well, in that case," he said to my lips, with an amused smile. "The bedroom's this way."

I followed Jeff to the bedroom, heart pounding, and watched hungrily as he crossed to the closet on the far wall. I gasped as he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off to reveal a chest just as sculpted and mesmerizing as it had been in the movie I had now watched repeatedly on DVD. The rest of his torso showed the changes of the intervening years: his stomach was still trim, but it no longer boasted washboard abs, and instead of being shaved smooth for the camera, he was covered with a light coating of golden hair. I still thought he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The fur and the softness of those few extra pounds just made him seem more real, more masculine, and infinitely more desirable.

He hung the shirt up in the closet, turned to see me still lurking in the doorway, closed the distance between us, and wrapped me in his arms for another hungry kiss. My hands stroked up and down his muscular back, while he ran his own hands up under my shirt and along my sides. I squirmed a little when it started to tickle, and he stilled, his palms resting against my waist. He broke free of my mouth to whisper, "Can I see you?"

I had no voice left, and I'm sure I was blushing fiery red, but I nodded. Gently he peeled my shirt off me, then stepped back to view what he had uncovered. I had seen myself in the mirror plenty of times, and found little to admire, but he seemed to drink me in with his eyes. I'd wanted him badly before, but I think when I saw him look at me like that was the moment I fell in love irrevocably.

"You're so beautiful," he husked. "I can't take my eyes off you. Why do you hide yourself under that baggy shirt and that adorable hair?" He likes my hair? I'll never cut it again.

"The baggy shirt's just to hide how turned on I am whenever I'm around you," I answered. I wanted to go hide somewhere the moment the words left my mouth, but the look on his face was so endearing—surprised, moved and lustful all at once—I held still to watch him. He walked toward me as if he were stalking his prey, all taut, coiled energy and graceful movement. I think I had time to swallow once, then he was on me, kissing my hair, my neck, my chest. He tweaked a nipple with his teeth and I moaned. He stilled, then attacked the nub ferociously, pushing me back onto the bed as I writhed and gasped beneath him. He had found my weakness, and was gleefully exploiting it, the gorgeous, glorious bastard.

He finally pulled back and propped himself on one elbow, face flushed and triumphant, and grinned at me. "I've been dreaming of doing that for too long."

I lunged, catching him by surprise, rolling him onto his back and pinning him down.

"And I've been dreaming of doing this for even longer," I answered.

He had me hot and ready; now it was my turn to return the favor. I unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and had both them and his boxer briefs down around his ankles in a heartbeat. I heard him chuckle—damn, that sound made me melt inside—but he didn't resist. One of his hands found one of mine, and caressed it softly as I paused to admire the treasure I had uncovered.

Jeff had the most perfect cock I'd ever seen: ample but not oversize, beautifully proportioned from the tapered head to the base, rising above a neatly trimmed bush and a generous pair of lightly furred balls, already drawn tight against his body with arousal. It twitched lightly in rhythm with his pulse, and a clear stream of pre-cum was already running down the shaft. I could have spent the next hour or so simply admiring it, but he was waiting for me to do something, so I got to work lavishing it with all the attention I could muster. I trailed kisses along the underside, ran my tongue around the sensitive corona, rubbed it against my cheek, nuzzled his balls, then finally took him in my mouth and plunged right down on him.

He shouted wordlessly and grabbed my shoulders. It was the first time I'd heard his voice not sound in control, and it turned me on even more. He was a perfect fit, nestling right at the back of my throat just short of triggering my gag reflex, and I exulted in his every gasp and moan as I moved up and down on him, making the most of every delicious stroke. I used one of my hands to caress his balls, lightly stimulating the sensitive spot behind them, while the other hand stroked his stomach and played with his nipples. They didn't seem to be the power buttons for him that mine were for me, but he wasn't making any objection, either. Finally, though, he pushed against my shoulders, coaxing me away from him. I moaned in protest. I was enjoying this as much as he was, and didn't want to stop. Ever. He bent down and kissed me, deep and long, his hands cupping my head, tangled in my hair.

"I'm so close. I didn't want to come yet. I want to taste you first." I think I blushed from my collarbone to the roots of my hair, but he was already unbuttoning my jeans.