As I press Layla against the cold stone wall, the chill of it seeping through my fingertips, I'm acutely aware that this scene feels different. I'm meant to play the predator, hovering on the brink of violence, but there's an undeniable tension that pulses between us.
The spark that crackles in the space we share leaves me feeling raw and vulnerable, a dangerous vulnerability I've avoided in countless other scenes.
I've convinced myself time and again that this is simply acting, just another role, just another scene. But as my hands rest on her shoulders, grounding both of us in place, I feel a frisson of desire that makes my pulse stutter.
"Don't move." My voice comes out low, colder than intended but laced with something that feels personal.
Her breath catches, and the small, almost imperceptible tremor in her body echoes within me, rousing something primal.
