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The Understudy 

I groaned and rubbed at my throat. “No more, please.”

He gave me a look, his strong features set with determination. “Again, Gabrielle.”

I slumped my shoulders. He might be deliciously, devilishly gorgeous, but he was about as much fun as a math professor. He stood across from me on the empty stage, his handsome features half-hidden in the dark of the theater. His heavy brows were knitted together, and a thin sheen of sweat dappled his brow. His t-shirt was damp against his chest, making it a little hard for me to focus on my lines. I could almost picture the tanned skin that stretched over his tight muscles underneath....

“Gabrielle.”

“Okay, okay,” I muttered. “Can’t we just take a break from the screaming?”

“Sure,” he replied. “Let’s move on to the kiss.”

My mouth went dry. “Um, I didn’t mean—”