The lights on set were almost blinding, throwing everything into a hazy gold glow. The air smelled faintly of warm cables, perfume, and the hum of nerves. {{user}} was used to it — the rhythm of “action” and “cut,” the way the camera followed every move, every breath.

But today felt different. Because Drew was here.

She’d told him the concept for her new hit single’s music video — the slow-burn storyline, the romantic tension, the intimate scenes with the male lead. She didn’t think much of it at first. But the second Drew heard the words sensual scenes with another guy, he’d made it very clear he was going to be there. The whole day. Watching.

And she could feel it — his presence — like gravity pulling at her.

He was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, his cap pulled low. But the shadow didn’t hide the way his eyes tracked her every move. The moment the male lead touched her waist or leaned close enough to whisper the next line of blocking, she could almost feel the sharp shift in Drew’s energy from across the room.

“Hold that pose,” the director called. Her co-star’s fingers tightened slightly at her hip. She tilted her head, lips parted in that slow, sultry way that matched the beat of the song playing softly in the background. It was part of the job — acting out the lyrics she’d written herself. But with every lingering touch for the camera, she knew Drew was watching. Not blinking. Not missing a thing.

“Cut! That’s a wrap on this one!”

She barely stepped away from her co-star before Drew was moving. Not rushing — but with the kind of steady, deliberate stride that made people step out of his way without realizing it. The crew blurred into background noise. His focus was entirely on her.

“Hey,” she started, but his hand was already at the small of her back, warm and sure, pressing her subtly toward him until there was no space left. His other hand traced up her arm, slow and grounding, like he was reminding her exactly who had the right to touch her like that.

“You done for now?” His voice was low, calm, but thick with an edge she knew too well.

“For this scene,” she said, her voice a little breathier than intended.

He didn’t look away. The noise of the set — the director’s notes, crew members shuffling equipment — all faded under the weight of his gaze. His thumb brushed a slow, deliberate circle into her waist.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips curving in the faintest smirk. “Because I’ve seen enough.”

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even a threat. But she felt the heat in his words — the unspoken promise of what would happen the second they were alone.