Page 22 of Most Eligible
“But maybe good relationships are built on history,” Rhett says.
The cool air from inside the house drifts out, drying the sweat clinging to my skin. I flick my gaze to his and narrow my eyes.
“Are you flirting with me, Rhett?” I ask, then clamp my mouth shut. I don’t have a body mic on, but who knows how many are hidden in the rosebushes around us.
His eyes pop wide like I’ve surprised him.
“Just making a comment,” he says lightly. “And how are things going with Mr. Marchetti?” he adds. “All you hoped?”
“Never better,” I retort. “He kisses like a dream. He certainly seems to be able to keep up withme.”
Rhett smirks, reaches up and presses two fingers to the side of my neck like he’s checking my pulse. But it’s not sterile, not medical. My chest flutters as the Old Spice and citrus scent of him swirls into my nose. He tilts his head, eyes searching my face—is he about to kiss me? My legs aren’t ready—but then he pulls his fingers away, slick with sweat.
“You might want to shower. Sweat doesn’t look good on camera.” He inclines his head, his breath tickling my ear. “Not that I have a problem with it.”
His words drag me back to the night I met him, the sweat between our bodies a kind of heady aphrodisiac. Sticking to my chest, my palms. His hands as they held my thighs, held me as I came undone. And then, just as quickly: sitting on the floor of my shower, scrubbing him from my skin, hating that just hours before I’d run my tongue over the sheen on his upper lip. It felt like my skin was no longer mine, like he’d peeled it off my bones as he left.
With that, he stalks back inside the mansion. All I can do is watch, my own fingers drawn up to the spot on my neck that’s still tingling from his touch. Like my sweat was gasoline and his fingers held a flame.
Alone time with an executive producer is a good sign. It means they want to dig deeper and maximize your screen time. But be careful: Things can get nasty behind closed doors.
—Shacking Up: The Definitive, Unauthorized Guide to WinningLove Shack
Chapter Ten
If sweat looks bad on camera, a sunburn looks even worse. After my sun exposure yesterday, Brooklyn put so much makeup on my crimson skin that I won’t be surprised if my gown comes off later looking like it’s been through the dust bowl.
“I hope that’ll be okay.” Brooklyn bites her lip anxiously and leans back to inspect me.
We’re the last ones left in the bunk room, everyone else already having already gone downstairs to get a few drinks in before the elimination ceremony.
“How’re you feeling?” I ask. I grab my large beaded earrings from the bed next to me and put them on as she considers my question.
“I’m okay,” she shrugs. “Well… Honestly, I’m really tired.”
I laugh and lie back on my bed. “We could skip the ceremony. Just take a nice nap, right here…” My eyes flutter closed, but Brooklyn reaches forward, purple stiletto in hand, and pokes me with the heel of her shoe.
“Ow!” I yelp, jolting upright. “Okay, okay! I’m up!”
We head downstairs in the mansion’s small elevator and out to the back patio, where we get strapped into microphones, then join Nina and Olie, who are deep in conversation.
“The blades have gotta be up, see?” Olie is saying. “Otherwise,it just won’t work.” She grunts and smiles at me. “I’m tellin’ her about my business,” she says. “I design cheese graters—best in Massachusetts.” Nina gives me a pained smile from her other side.
“Georgia,” someone says. I feel Addison’s sharp gaze before I lay eyes on her. Tonight, her hair is pinned severely back, eyes heavily shadowed with makeup that matches her dark blue dress. If I’m summer in my marigold-yellow dress, she’s the dead of winter.
“I heard you got a little extra time with Roland yesterday.” She gives me such a sour smile, I’m surprised it doesn’t curdle on her lips. “Looks like you paid the price though,” she adds, eyeing my rosy chest.
“This isn’t—this is from when I was on the grounds,” I explain.The grounds—what is this, Downton Abbey? “I was taking a walk and I just happened to run into him.”
Addison scoffs—like, actually scoffs—and rolls her eyes. “And you justhappenedto fall on his mouth?”
Olie elbows me in the side, muttering, “Hey, she’s not worth it.”
I turn a plastic smile to Addison. “Well, next time I kiss Roland I’ll let you know so you can join us.”
Addison goes as red as my sunburn as Olie howls with laughter. Even Nina lets out a cackle, and behind me, I hear a quick laugh. I glance over and catch Rhett’s eye, but he looks away, cheeks still fading down from his sudden, brief smile. A flicker of pride makes my face flush.
“All right, ladies,” says Norbert, clapping his hands. “Who’s ready to rock and Roland!” He looks around expectantly. A few people give him a pity laugh, but Addison remains stone-faced. “Rhett, are you ready?”
