Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
They’d done several runs now through various parts, mostly the sections that would be filmed on the lot before they traveled on location for the scenes that needed to be shot in the rather large Victorian manor Newcomb had booked in Montreal. Most of the rehearsals hadn’t been filmed save for a few camera and lighting tests, but before long they’d be trying on and adjusting costumes, working out how to navigate around special effects that would be filled in later, taking a serious crack at things.
And Brendan still wasn’t quite feeling his role as Landon Cheng.
He wasn’t sure what he was missing. He and Sophie played off each other well enough; they’d adopted something of a mirroring technique, intentionally echoing each other’s body language and gestures in tandem—like father, like daughter, a silent tell for the audience of just where she’d learned her cold mannerisms.
But why was he that way?
What had happened to Landon Cheng that made him so closed off that he wouldn’t even allow his daughter to be free?
He’s trying to protect her, Brendan thought, tapping his curled script against his chin and watching as Sophie whispered something into Cillian’s ear that made him gasp and push at her arm with a laugh that carried across the lot to the little alcove Brendan had commandeered, settling to lean against the wall and rest a bit. But it’s not the usual possessive father trying to keep men from sullying his daughter. It’s deeper than that. He’s afraid of something. Something that hurt him, and he doesn’t want it to hurt her, too.
Better to be cold, alone…than to be hurt.
That felt a little too bitterly familiar.
Cillian broke away from Sophie, then, and nearly tumbled over to Brendan, his contagious, boyish smile lighting up his face. “Sophie wants to go do karaoke tonight. Want to come?”
Brendan blinked, pulling from his thoughts. “I don’t think I can, Cillian.”
Cillian faltered, his smile fading. “…oh. I thought it would…you know, be another good chance…”
“It’s also a good chance for you to make friends.” Brendan tapped the spine of his script lightly to the top of Cillian’s head. “Boyfriends also have independent social lives and their own friends. So have fun with yours. I’ll see you later.”
That crestfallen look lingered for a moment, before Cillian brightened again, smile strengthening. “Okay. More readings tomorrow night?”
“I’ll make dinner.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”
“…you look like someone who cooks unseasoned chicken.”
“Hey!” Cillian spluttered, then pouted. “What’s wrong with unseasoned chicken? It’s fine with a little salt, isn’t it?”
“I…no. I’m cooking. End of story.” He used his script as a prod to push lightly at Cillian’s chest. “Go have fun with Sophie. I’m going home and going to sleep.”
That pout turned a little too deliberate. Cillian turned his face up. “Kiss before I go?”
Brendan groaned, but bent to indulge Cillian, brushing a kiss across the increasingly familiar shape of his mouth, giving just enough pressure to feel soft lips molding against his; to raise that little shiver Cillian always let out when Brendan kissed him, as if Brendan had touched some secret hidden nerve that made his body move beyond his control.
That shouldn’t feel so satisfying.
And as Brendan pulled away, he murmured in Cillian’s ear, “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”
Cillian’s lips tugged at the corners. “Since you’re being old-fashioned and sending me home hungry every night, I’ve got to take what little pleasures I can.”
“Shameless little flirt.”
“Mm.” That husky-rasp, soft voice turned sultry, as Cillian rubbed his cheek to Brendan’s. “Just remember what you promised to do to me.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” And just in retaliation, Brendan nipped Cillian’s earlobe, curling a hand against this waist—catching that moment when Cillian’s gasp made tension ripple down through his body, until Brendan could feel it against his palm. A building surge of warmth started in Brendan’s thighs, pulsing toward his cock. “Let me savor my anticipation.”
“So you’re anticipating it now?” Cillian breathed lightly. “You’re going to make me think you actually like me.”
“You’re tolerable,” Brendan teased softly, then gave Cillian a little shove. “Go. Your friend is enjoying watching us too much.”
“Yeah, she said she’s…uh…I don’t know if I’m saying this right but she said…fujoshi? I think I’ve seen that on Twitter…”
“…don’t tell me what it is, I have a feeling I don’t want to know.” Shaking his head in amusement, Brendan nudged him again. “Go.”
Something flickered in Cillian’s eyes, something unreadable that made his smile falter, before it came back and he nodded. “Later, Brendan.”
“Mm.”
Brendan’s gaze trailed after Cillian as his long, leggy strides took him back to Sophie; whatever she said when he drew close, it must have been embarrassing, because Cillian let out a strangled sound, face lighting up crimson while she burst into laughter.
What Brendan wouldn’t give to have a twenty-something’s energy again.