authoramyra
"Don't touch me, Zayyan," she hissed, breathless, their faces inches apart under the blinding studio lights.
He tilted his head, smirk tugging at his lips. "That's unfortunate, Liyana... because the script says I have to."
The cameras rolled.Her hand trembled against his chest; his fingers gripped her waist a little too tight-too real for acting, too dangerous to ignore. "Seven years ago, you ruined me."His lips brushed the corner of her mouth.
"Then let me ruin you again." She hated him --his arrogance, his control, his voice that still knew how to find her pulse.
He despised her defiance, the way she turned pain into art. Now, she's a dancer. He's an actor.
And fate decided their next role would be lovers. On screen, it's just a kiss.Off screen... it's the beginning of a war called desire