From Chapter 2...

His gaze followed her long legs as they crossed the set and stepped through the office door. Just before she pulled it closed, one hand ran down her side and smoothed a short leather skirt over her enticingly curved hip. The sight of that gesture registered in his brain and then went straight to his groin.

Edward swallowed a groan. The scene hadn't started, and already he was in trouble.

Chapter 3

He almost missed the cue went it sounded: timid taps on the door made by a delicately graceful hand. It was all he could do to croak out his line.

"Enter."

Isabella took her mark inside the office and closed the door behind her. Though the set featured only half of a room, Edward wished the click of the lock signified their privacy in the real world in the same way it did for Bree and Riley. If so, then it would only take one word from her deliciously full lips, one nod of acquiescence, and he would be out of his seat. He would cross the room with long, purposeful steps, push her against the wall, hitch up her skirt around her waist, yank down her panties, and…

"So you'll accept?"

Shit.

Once again, the impossible had occurred. He'd gotten distracted while doing a scene. Before Isabella, that never happened. Now it was a common event.

He had to take command of the situation, of himself. After all, the difficult part was still to come. Edward leaned back against the supple leather and regarded her with detached intent, as Riley would do.

"Come closer."

Her steps were so cautious, her body language so timid. With downcast eyes and trembling hands, she was evoking feelings of protectiveness within in him. He wanted to pull her close and never let go.

Dammit, Cullen, knock it off and get in character. You're supposed to be an ass to her.

"Look at me."

He hated that part of the scene because—with those wide, frightened doe-eyes on him—it was so difficult to utter the next line and all that it implied.

"Convince me why I should consider your offer when I can have the same thing for free."

There was a visible shift her posture as she prepared to sell herself, almost as if shimmying into the full-body costume of some other person. Her hands skipped across her torso in a awkwardly seductive manner, and Edward loathed himself for wanting her even as he leaned forward on his desk to get a better look. That he was acting as Riley did not lessen his guilt.

"Mr. Biers," she purred. "I'll be available to you at all hours without any effort on your part. With me, you won't have to worry about ulterior motives or deception. I'll be what you want, when you want, how you want."

Her eyes locked with his as she loosened the tie of her satin wraparound top, slipped it from her shoulders, and let it ripple down to the floor. As a testament to the hypnotic pull of her gaze, several long moments passed before he surveyed the landscape she unveiled to him.

Smooth plains, curving hills, dipping valleys—all formed from mouth-watering ivory skin except for those two dusky rose peaks that strained beneath ebony lace. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning aloud. It was far too much temptation for Edward, but Riley was insatiable.

"If you want to work off your father's considerable debt, I'll need more than that."

She continued to walk to him, stopping only when she could put a hand to his knee and guide his legs apart. The fiery touch of her fingers was nearly unbearable, and in order to maintain an impassive expression, Edward had to call upon hidden reserves of willpower that had lain undisturbed for years.

He forced himself to remain still and unaffected as her hands slid up his thighs. He did not move while fumbling fingers worked the buckle on his belt. His stare never wavered from her face when she pulled down his zipper and freed the object of her pursuit from its confines.

"I am more." The tip of a pink tongue peeked out and swept over her lips. "I'm more than you've ever had or ever will."

Edward sucked in a shallow breath as her head descended toward his lap and hovered over the silicone phallus protruding from his opened trousers. His own semi-erect penis was twitching within snug boxer briefs.

He held onto his resistance but only barely. He couldn't...wouldn't...let his body betray him like it did that night. It didn't matter that the scripted scene was a vastly different circumstance from the one in his past or that his heart was conflicted over his feelings toward the young actress. Only one thing was important, and that was being in control.

That was everything, and he wouldn't let it go.

To test his determination, he extended a hand to her cheek and took a lock of her hair between his thumb and index finger. It flowed like water through his fingers as he followed its length down her body, skimming a knuckle over her smooth skin as he did so. He was intrigued by the way her nipples pushed against the thin material of her bra as he caressed the upper slope of her breast.

Sudden nips of pain brought his attention to where her fingernails dug into his thigh through the fabric of his trousers. Her grip was surprisingly solid, and the appealing juxtaposition of physical strength as she performed an act to demonstrate her submission to him—to Riley—did just as much to test his restraint as her beauty.

But he wasn't able to prevent the involuntary tensing of his body as a frisson of desire shocked his spine. She noticed and responded by increasing her pace over his crotch. His breath quickened at the sight, and he closed his eyes while splaying his hand over the entirety of her breast. He cupped her gently at first, but when she wrapped her fingers around the now-glistening phallus, he knew he would need some sort of release. Either his grip on her or the skin of his dick would need to tighten, and he wouldn't allow the latter to happen. He gathered her mounded flesh in his palm and squeezed. Hard.

At the immediate shifting of her body against his legs, his eyes snapped open in horror. Had he hurt her? He would never forgive himself.

He was about to break scene to ask when his mind registered a low, humming sound. It was Isabella, moaning in pleasure as she pushed her chest into his hand and rubbed her thighs together.

Oh god, either she liked it or was the most convincing actor he had ever met. Both prospects deepened his attraction to her.

He was, at that moment, standing on a very dangerous precipice, and no one else in the room had any idea that a fierce battle raged inside him. It would be so easy to let himself fall into her alluring trap, to break the final bar of the cage that contained his desire. He could even justify the lapse in willpower, redefining it as an acting technique to deliver the most realistic performance possible.

But then he would feel like she had won again.

In a split-second, a slide show of memories flashed in his mind, and it spurred his will to victory. Edward was in full control of his body once more. Obedient now, his arousal retreated as commanded, and he could act instead of reacting. To the camera, there would be no difference, but the distinction for him was everything.

Just like he took charge of his emotions, he assumed direction of her rhythm, using fingers woven through silken tresses at the back of her head. His hips swung forward roughly toward her ready mouth as if reasserting his dominance over her feminine wiles.

"Ms. Tanner…Bree…" His words were forced through gritted teeth. "I need...more…"

Like a good girl, she gave what he demanded, dedicating all of her efforts to his imaginary pleasure. Edward responded as appropriate, groaning and hissing as they worked the scene to its inevitable conclusion.

Edward's resolve lorded confidently over his cowering arousal—except for one moment of revolt when Isabella's hand slipped off the slick silicone and brushed lightly over the indiscreet bulge lying tame beside its synthetic double. Desire coursed through his body and threatened to ignite his passion. Edward knew he had pushed the limits of his restraint. This torture session needed to end. Immediately.

With a grunt of exertion, he simultaneously pulled her head down onto him while his teeth took another hold of his inner cheek's torn flesh. The stinging pain and tang of blood was just enough to keep his erection at bay as he thrust toward her swollen, open lips. Sweat dotted his brow and his breath was labored from the effort of creating a necessary mental separation when physical distance was impossible.

After a sustained growl, low in his throat, the trial was finally over.

The scene, however, was not, and Edward allowed himself only a few seconds to gather his wits before continuing. But he made the mistake of not having fully recovered before raising his gaze to meet Isabella's. He paid for it.

She stared at him with eyes that were Bree's—multi-hued brown swimming with sadness, anger, desperation, and shame…so much shame. Edward wanted to fall on his knees in front of her and beg for forgiveness. He wanted to take all the blame and relieve her guilt. But he couldn't.

They were together only for business, and he needed to maintain the impenetrable wall between them.

"Get on your feet."

His heart appropriately hardened, he watched silently as she redressed and took her place in front of her father's desk. His expression remained stoic as her eyes glistened with tears when she looked over the family photos on the desk's wooden surface. In accordance with the script, he graced her with his well-practiced mocking smirk.

"Nice demonstration. I'll admit, I'm impressed by your…dedication to your father despite the fact that his stupidity and lack of control are the reasons for your family's troubles. Send him back in, and I'll discuss the terms of your employment."

Her shudder was so immediate and convincing that Edward wondered if it had actually been involuntary. The longer he spent around Isabella, the more things he found to admire about her, such as her innately artful acting skills. For his sanity, and her best interests, he would have to figure out a way to free himself from her enchanting spell as soon as possible.

At least he had survived the scene take with his piddling remnant of self-esteem intact. He stared after her retreating form as she walked toward the office door. Given his futile longing for her, he supposed it was no mean feat. After all, she unknowingly had more power to destroy him than any other person, perhaps save one, yet this erotic experience left him relatively unscathed.

For one self-indulgent moment, he allowed himself the forbidden fantasy: he was a whole, undamaged man who wasn't terrified of intimacy. He could approach Isabella like an ordinary person feeling an attraction, ask for her company on a date. They would grow closer over time. He would be able to open the deepest recesses of his soul to her, and she wouldn't find his secrets, his memories—find him—repulsive.

The tiniest spark glowed inside him, like a firefly in the darkness. It was warm and light and curiously pleasant, but there was a hidden menace within its brightness—a sharp, cutting edge.

He realized it was hope, and he was afraid.

Hiya! With some new reviews to OSC, I began rereading the story in order to respond appropriately. That inspired me to write another EPOV! :)