It's been a bitch of a day. You've alternated between wanting to kill people and just bursting into tears for hours. You're exhausted, and to add to the stress, there's been a huge cock up at the hotel meaning half the cast and crew are now "camping out" in your house, as it was the nearest place to the set.
You've been waiting to use the bathroom for what feels like ages, but the long, hot shower you thought would make you feel better has just left you hot, damp and cranky. Dressing yourself in an old pair of knickers and a vest, you make your way into your bedroom, as it's the only room in the house not currently occupied by visitors. As you're towelling off your hair, there's a gentle knock on the door. Opening it, you're surprised to see Pete standing there looking vaguely apologetic.
"Can I come in?" You let him in, aware that you're clad only in your underwear, and Pete is still dressed for the shoot earlier today. he looks tired, but the stubble on his face is just reminding you of how beautiful his lips are. "I just wanted to let you know you did a great job today, it wasn't easy, with all the budget cuts and everything. Are you okay?"
You mumble something under your breath about it all being part of the job, but Pete says "even so, I think putting 8 people up overnight is slightly above and beyond the call of duty" He moves a little closer to you, puts a hand on your practically bare shoulder and says "you look a bit upset, is there anything I can do?"
Somewhat flustered, you drop the towel you've been cradling to your breasts since Peter walked in. "I'm just stressed out, and I don't seem to be able to unwind" you say. Peter grins, and suddenly, you're aware that Peter isn't just offering to sort out the hotel screw-up ...
Lazily, almost mockingly, Peter draws his thumb along your neck towards your jaw. "Turn around" he says. Confused, and more than slightly bemused, you turn your back to him, hopelessly aware that this is your boss, in your bedroom, you're only wearing thin cotton underwear, and that this really shouldn't be happening.
You're then embarrassed to discover that all Pete is offering to do is rub your shoulders. He's noticed that there is a lot of tension sitting in tight and painfully in a knot on your right shoulder. He digs in with his fingers, you shiver, and involuntarily, a small moan escapes your lips. The second it does, you cringe immediately, and wait for him to start laughing. His hands stop moving, but no laughter starts. There is a mere second-long pause, but, in your vulnerable state, it feels like forever. You realise that Pete has moved even closer, you can feel the heat from his body warming your still slightly damp back, and you can hear that he's just taken a deep breath. "Nice tattoo, kid. What other surprises do you have in store for me?"
Pete traces the shape of your tattoo with one of his fingertips, and you're just fighting back an urge to giggle when you realise that it's his tongue, the slight tickle of his stubble adding a new dimension to what you're feeling....
Pete slips both his arms around your waist, and cradles you to him. All the while he's kissing and licking the back of your neck, and you're only too painfully aware that the rest of the house is full of your workmates. Still, it's getting very difficult to breathe normally, so you find yourself reaching back to touch him. Your heart is pounding painfully in your chest, and you're aware you can feel a pulse beating somewhere rather lower down too.
Pete simultaneously starts to pull you gently backwards towards the bed, and move his hands up and under your vest. Eventually, somehow, you are straddled on his lap and he's - finally! - kissing you gently on the lips, nibbling at them gently, and playing with your breasts. Squeezing them in his hands and occasionally pinching gently at your nipples. It's even more difficult to breathe, and you find yourself making soft animalistic noises in the back of your throat. You notice that Pete is breathing a lot more heavily now too.