Movie Star Prince - Completed.

Chapter Eleven

Heather watched on as did every other female on set as Saleem wet himself down with a hose, going for the wet look. Her fingers wrung his towel, holding it close to her, gulping, making sure he had no other offers to dry him down.

Using the towel as a cover, she took a sneaky snap of him, peeking down to take a glance to see if it came out alright. It had, perfectly. She just hoped the hotness didn't melt her phone camera.

Yes, she got it, all about filming. However, she didn't have to like it, did she? All that hotness on display, glistening under the sun, bare-chested, yet this is what he did for a living. The entire movie business was an eye-opener experience. The retakes, the directors' direction, and scenes set up before shooting are more digital than film.

They took away the hose as he flicked back wet hair with his hands, muscles flexing, his pants clinging like a second skin. Swallowing hard, she wiped her forehead with his towel, suddenly hot and sweaty. That had nothing to do with the sun.

He swung around to take his place, the wet pants outlined the contour of his tight, perfectly shaped bottom. He joined his costar, who was wet as he was. The clothes clung, outlining her stunning figure and flimsy material around her perfect breasts. With ease, Saleem swept her off her feet, where she slumped into his arms. He had just rescued her from nearly drowning.

Give her action! This wasn't one of his action films. Dropping her head, as 'action' called, wishing now she had brought a book, anything to distract her from this torture. If it hadn't been Saleem, it wouldn't have worried her. Probably enjoy it immensely, taking deep breaths, and trying to keep calm.

Heather had never felt like this before, not sure why she did. Wiping her face again with his towel. "I thought that was meant for me?" Startled she looked up at the man in question, standing before her, wet, clothes clinging. She held out the towel that he took and draped it around his neck, grabbed her hand, and tugged her up against him, lowering his dark head, and kissed her on the lips.

"You're my girl, don't forget it. The heat isn't getting to you?"

She shook her head, licking suddenly dry lips. "I didn't realise we were having a wet t-shirt competition without the t-shirt."

"Now, you wouldn't be objectifying me, Heather girl?" he teased.

"No, everyone else was," she gulped, grabbed the edge of the towel and began wiping his face.

"Not here," he claimed her hand instead and led her away towards his trailer, opened and showed her inside, the door closing behind them, locking out the world. Her eyes kept drifting down his clinging pants, glad it was the back view as he began towel-drying his hair. "Would you grab my robe?" She looked around spotting a bathrobe handing off the back of the door, grabbed it and turned around, gulping at his bare bottom, stripped out of his pants, and wiping himself down.

She draped his robe over his back, slipping further into the trailer, and headed towards the other side, where she opened the fridge and removed a bottle of water. Once she unscrewed the lid, she filled two glasses, removed and peeked behind her relieved to find the robe on and crossed over, handing him a glass, glad the robe was tied up tightly.

"Thanks, but do I need more of this?" he eyed off the water.

"To drink," she sighed, going back for her drink, and sank into the back sofa. "I think I might stay in here. It would be safer," she mumbled, more to herself.

Saleem joined her on the sofa, placing his glass behind her on the windowsill. "You realise it is only acting?"

"Of course," she sighed, leaning against his side, where he placed his lips on top of her hair. "It is the other I'm concerned about," she noted, running a hand down over his bathrobe that was dangerously close to opening as he brought up a leg onto the sofa next to her.