Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

“I know this must be pretty boring for you,” Daphne beams at me, taking the glass of champagne I’ve poured for her from the limo’s well stocked bar.

“But for me, this is kind of surreal.” She looks away from me, a little embarrassed, tucking one of those beautiful golden waves behind one ear.

“What was the first show you ever did as a kid?” I ask, catching her somewhat by surprise.

“I was Aurora in my junior high’s production of Sleeping Beauty,” she sighs, dreamy with memory.

“Wow, a stage ‘death’ and a stage kiss in your first role—impressive!” I intone seriously.

“What about you, Mr. Bigshot?” Daphne laughs.

“If you must know, I was ‘fly wearing a polka dot tie’ in a preschool musical production,” I sniff officiously, drawing another round of hysterical laughter from Daphne. Once the laughter dies down, she’s looking out the window again, her expression faraway and a little sad.

“Seriously though, It’ll stop feeling so surreal after the third or fourth really fancy party. The big awards ceremonies—they still feel pretty wild to me,” I find myself admitting, eager to see that carefree smile on her face again.

She laughs, that beautiful crystalline chime, her deep aquamarine eyes scanning back to me.

“It’s not just the gala, Cosmo.” She blushes, warm and rosy under her golden freckles. I’m glad that she and Julian didn’t obscure them under Daphne’s dewy makeup.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said that I’ve kept your poster on my wall since Gravitation came out.” She swallows hard, her hands balled into fists in her lap.

I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything. I just reach my hand out to her, my fingers gently easing her frozen fists open, her fingers lacing with mine.

She looks up at me, bringing my knuckles to her painted lips.

“It’s difficult for me to believe this is real sometimes.” She smiles nuzzling her cheek against the back of my hand.

“I know you keep saying that.” I move down the bench seat of the limousine until I’m close enough to wrap my arm around her.

“But it’s the same way for us too, me especially,” I speak quietly, draping an arm protectively over her shoulders.

“What do you mean?” Daphne turns her face up to mine, our lips ghosting across one another—barely touching.

I reach down with my free hand and cup her face, her eyelashes fluttering against my cheekbones.

“I didn’t think that we would ever find someone… Who could handle all of our distinct and strong personalities.” My fingers are drawn to the graceful column of her neck, her golden skin draped in silvery blue satin.

I become very aware of Daphne’s hand on my knee, traveling ever higher. Little minx.

“One minute you’re shy and demure, the next you’re grounded and wise, and sometimes you slow burn with a smoldering confidence,” I muse, as much to myself as to Daphne—my hand moves down past the hollow of her neck to her clavicles.

“I know I’m an actress, but I’m not pretending,” she sighs, her eyes fluttering closed.

“I really am all of those things.” She turns her face toward mine—her golden waves nearly touching my face.

“I know. Trust me, if anyone understands about the line between your craft and who you are…” I trail off, brushing my lips over her temple as my fingertips graze the tender skin of Daphne’s sternum, just above the swell of her decolletage.

“It’s like you’re many different, incredible women in a single delicious package.” I lean in, nose in her hair, inhaling her scent like a fine wine.

“You should probably stop touching me like this and give me a little space if you don’t want me on you, dry humping like my life depends on it, before we get to the gala,” Daphne pants.

The laugh that bubbles up from deep in my gut surprises me as much as it surprises Daphne.

I lean down and catch her mouth with mine, my tongue twining with hers for a delicious moment before we break the kiss, Daphne’s hand moves scandalously high on my thigh.

“Who says I give a fuck about going to the Gala?” I rumble, a hungry smile splitting my face.

I can see the conflict flicker on her features. I can smell how badly she wants me—that thick, honey sweet that makes my head spin and my cock hard. Even with the distraction I can also read the conflicting shadow of disappointment that passes over her eyes. Their reflection somehow dimmed.