Then There Was You

XVII

A week passed by slowly, almost painfully. Henry never came back to my room after that night. Our relationship seemed to deteriorate with each passing day. It was extremely difficult to work with him, knowing the hatred that he had for me buried under his easy smiles. Unfortunately, I couldn't mask my feelings as easily as he could. I'd been scolded and coached numerous times by the director, causing him to abruptly demand an explanation mid scene one day.

"I don't know what's happened between you two, but you better fix it! And fast!" He snaps, Henry and I both looking away from each other simultaneously. "I've seen more passion from a dead slug. Never give me that shit performance again!"

After that, I had to muster every ounce of skill to make my performance believable. I just managed, but our chemistry was never the same. And it was so painfully obvious to everyone.
When I wasn't needed on set, I'd spend all my time alone in my room, sulking. Too depressed to attend the social engagements I'd been invited to.
With Henry and James both not speaking to me, the only comforting conversations I had was with my mum. I phoned her every night. And almost every night I would dream of Henry. I'd wake up in the middle of the night, confused and frustrated by them.

Tonight, I was feeling especially put out and nervous. I'd been subjected to a full body wax. Henry and I were to film a sex scene tomorrow. I was terrified. It was going to be awful.
Around 1am, I finally fall asleep. Thankfully, there were no dreams tonight, and I slept soundly until my alarm went off at 7am.

The minute I wake up, I'm nervous, anxious and grouchy. I took my time showering, waiting until the hot water ran cold before getting out. I dressed slowly, taking my time brushing and fussing with my hair. I couldn't put if off anymore. I was being a coward.
With a defeated sigh, I left the safety of my room and headed to make up and hair.

I'm oblivious to the efforts of the prep team. I'm vaguely aware of being thrust into my dress. To my horror, my dress is held together secretly by Velcro. To make it easier for him to rip it off. My heart stutters at the thought.
Panic starts to set in, and I'm sweating, shaking mess by the time I arrive on scene.

Calm down, I order myself.
Henry and I take our positions, neither of us looking at the other, and then the director calls for action:

"You summoned me, your grace?" Thankfully, I can work my nervousness into this scene. After days of flirting and teasing, the duke has finally decide to act on his lust, even though he's happily married. I've been brought to his chamber late at night.
"Yes, Isabelle," he says. He's dressed in just his breeches, his white shirt unlaced at his throat- exposing his hard muscled chest.
"Is there something my lord needs?" I ask, confused by the way his eyes are drinking me in head to toe.
"Yes, there is," his voice is breathy, hungry and completely irresistible. He crosses the room in three long strides. For a second, I'm scared he's going to hurt me. He takes my head roughly in his hands, and I gasp in shock. Then he crushes his mouth down on mine.

I'd worried about this moment for days. I was prepared for the worst: Fearing that I wouldn't be able to kiss him back, scared that it would be awkward for everyone involved, terrified that I'd be able to feel his hate.
But nothing could have prepared me for my reaction.
The moment his lips touched mine, my body took complete control. I wrapped my arms around his neck, plastering myself to his muscular body. I kissed him hungrily, gasping loudly into his mouth.
I didn't care that I was supposed to be acting. I didn't care about the curious eyes and cameras that were on us. All I could think about was that I needed to feel his hands, his mouth on me. I needed him now.

We ripped the clothes from each other, I was completely caught up in the frenzy of my lust. The sounds coming from me were unrecognisable. Free from our clothes, he threw me onto the bed. I watched him, looking up at him unguarded, and I realise I don't care if he sees how much I want this. To my surprise, his eyes hold the same lust. The sheer force and intensity of his gaze, makes my stomach clench pleasurably, and I feel dampness begin to pool between my thighs.