Chapter 31
Jacob
He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to see Liam until he spotted him across the lot. Something in his chest loosened at the sight, like a knot pulling free.
They hadn’t spoken since last night. The call had been about calming Liam down and helping him through the panic.
It had rattled Jacob and left him tense and wide awake, the sound of Liam’s voice still echoing in his head long after the line went dead.
He hadn’t let himself look for release; Liam had needed him steady, not selfish.
In the end, Jacob was just grateful he’d been there when it mattered.
Liam stood by the makeup trailer, nodding as a PA rattled through the call sheet. He even managed a smile, but Jacob saw straight through it. The corners of his mouth pulled tight, and his shoulders were too stiff. Shadows pooled beneath his eyes, just dark enough to betray the truth.
He hadn’t slept.
Fuck.
Jacob crossed the lot without thinking, boots hitting the pavement in measured strides. He didn’t bother with hello, just wrapped a hand around Liam’s elbow and said quietly, “Come with me.”
Liam glanced toward the set. “We’re on in ten.”
“Then we’ve got nine.”
Jacob led him around the far side of the set until the voices dulled and the air cooled. Privacy wasn’t a guarantee, but it was good enough. No one would come looking here. He turned, pressing Liam back against the wooden siding, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Liam gave a quick nod, the movement almost defensive. Jacob’s gaze stayed fixed, not accepting it as an answer. He waited until he saw Liam’s guard slip—the truth flickering in his eyes.
When he finally spoke, it wasn’t deflection anymore. “Better than I was last night.”
Jacob closed the distance until their chests brushed. His hand found Liam’s waist, fingers pressing in until he felt the heat of him through the layers.
“You sure?” he asked, voice low enough to scrape the air between them.
“Yes, what you did… it helped.”
Jacob’s grip tightened, a weird satisfaction curling deep in his chest. “You should’ve called sooner.”
“I didn’t want to bother—”
Jacob cut him off. “You’re not a bother.” The words came sharp, leaving no space for argument. “You need me, you reach out. That’s how this works.”
Liam swallowed before nodding once.
Jacob didn’t wait for permission. He leaned in until their foreheads touched and he could feel Liam’s breath warm against his own. One hand slid to the back of his neck—a hold that said, you’re here, you’re mine, I won’t let you fall.
His other hand slipped beneath the hem of Liam’s shirt, finding the curve of his ribs and the warmth of bare skin. The contact grounded him, proof that Liam was here and safe beneath his palm. They stayed like that, foreheads pressed, the quiet between them thick enough to feel.
Jacob drew a slow breath, forcing everything back into its cage. “Are you ready to shoot?”
A soft huff ghosted against his mouth.
He willed himself to take a step back, though the need to stay clawed deep.
His hand lifted to fix Liam’s collar, but the gesture was only an excuse to touch him one more time.
He lingered for just a moment longer before forcing himself to turn and walk back toward the set, resisting the urge to look back.
* * *
They made it through the scenes the way they always did—like the script was more a suggestion than a rule. Lips landed where they shouldn’t have. Hands stayed where they had no business staying. A kiss meant to be blocked and practiced turned into something else entirely.
No one called it out. They never did. By now, the crew had seen stranger things between them. Thank God for NDAs. He just hoped there wouldn’t be any more leaks.
Jacob paced the length of his trailer, still in costume, sweat prickling at the back of his neck. The collar of his shirt felt like it was strangling him. The taste of Liam was still there, stubborn on his tongue and impossible to shake.
He’d texted one word: Trailer.
In less than a minute, Liam stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
They didn’t waste time on words. Jacob crossed the space in three long strides, his hand fisting Liam’s collar before pulling him forward into a kiss that hit hard.
A collision of want and something Jacob had no right to need this badly.
Liam answered without hesitation, mouth opening under his. His hands tightened on Jacob’s sides, gripping hard like he’d been starving for this. As if minutes apart had felt like days.
Jacob turned them around, pressing Liam into the trailer wall. One hand braced beside his head, while the other slipped beneath his shirt. He shouldn’t be doing this—not here, not now—but the feel of him, the taste of him, made the word shouldn’t irrelevant.
Two sharp knocks shattered the moment.
They froze, breath mingling in the narrow space between them.
“Jacob?” Juno’s voice carried through the door. “Your driver’s here.”
Jacob closed his eyes for half a beat, teeth clenched. “Tell him two minutes.”
“I’ll let him know,” she said, tone dry enough to scrape. Her footsteps retreated, leaving a silence so taut it almost vibrated.
Liam didn’t step away. His breathing was unsteady, pupils blown wide, and lips red and swollen from Jacob’s mouth. He looked so unbearably beautiful it hurt.
Jacob let his hand trace the sharp line of Liam’s jaw, his thumb moving slowly as if to memorize the shape. “We’re out of time,” he said, though his body screamed for more.
Liam nodded slowly, but stayed exactly where he was.
Jacob’s palm found his waist again, fingers pressing in. He leaned forward and let his mouth graze Liam’s, gentler this time. A kiss that carried more weight than urgency, more tenderness than heat.
Then he stepped away, control settling back into place. “Go,” he said, his voice rougher than it should have been. “Before I lock the door and fuck you against the wall.”
Liam’s throat bobbed. He turned toward the door, but not before giving one last look over his shoulder. In that look, Jacob saw exactly what he feared and wanted most: not regret or guilt, but hunger—and the gnawing frustration of not having enough time.
* * *
That evening, Jacob slid into bed and stared at the ceiling.
Next to him, Caroline was curled on her side, the soft glow from her tablet painting her features in a blue light.
Her face was calm—the kind of familiar that had once anchored him after long days, pulling him back into the easy gravity of home.
Now it only made his skin itch, like a sweater worn too long in the heat.
She glanced over and smiled. “Everything okay?”
He nodded. “Yes. Just tired.”
She set the tablet on the nightstand and shifted closer until her palm rested on his chest. “Happy you’re home.”
He made a sound in his throat, something meant to pass for agreement.
She moved against him, shifting her weight as she slid her hand lower. He didn’t flinch, but didn’t lean into it either.
“You’re quiet,” she murmured, her fingertips brushing over his stomach, then dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. Her touch was confident, the kind that came from years of knowing his body.
He stayed soft. That never happened; he was always ready.
She kept stroking him, gentle and patient, like this was a reconnection—a way to close the distance after a week apart. He stared at the ceiling, jaw clenched so tight he could hear the faint pulse in his ears. His mind wasn’t here. His body wasn’t hers.
She pressed kisses to his shoulder and throat, whispering something tender that blurred before it reached his ears. The rhythm of her hand became firmer, more deliberate.
Eventually—inevitably—his body responded. His cock thickened in her hand, but there was no hunger, no fire in his veins. It was blood and nerve endings; a physical reaction, nothing more.
Caroline’s breath warmed his skin. “That better?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer. His body still hummed with memories of Liam—his voice in his ear, his weight beneath Jacob’s hands. Before coming to bed, he had showered until the water ran cold, but it hadn’t washed away what lingered deep beneath his skin.
She kissed along his jaw and swung a leg over his, heat pressing close until something in him snapped. His hand came up, steady but not unkind, and his voice followed, leaving no space for doubt. “Stop.”
Her hand stilled and she drew back slowly, eyes searching his face in the dim light. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t.”
She blinked, confused. “Why?”
He didn’t answer right away. Nothing he could say would touch the truth of it, and trying would only break them both.
Caroline shifted up onto an elbow, the sheets whispering against her skin. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just—” He dragged a hand down his face. “I can’t tonight.”
The silence that followed wasn’t angry; it was puzzled. “You’re not sick or anything?”
“No.”
“You always want this,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
He didn’t correct her. Didn’t explain that want had changed shape. That while his body might still obey out of habit, everything else—every thought, every pulse of desire—was tangled somewhere else. Wrapped around someone else.
He reached for her hand and squeezed once. “I’m sorry.”
After a beat, she nodded and lay back down. Jacob stayed on his back, eyes locked on the ceiling.
Fucking hell, he couldn’t even have a simple moment of intimacy with his wife, without feeling like he was cheating on someone who wasn’t his.
He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing at his temples.
Where the fuck was this going?