by Sybil Bartel
Indignant, I glanced pointedly at my restraint. “Are you going to uncuff me?”
“Depends.”
Ass. “On?”
“Is the spoiled Hollywood actress asking, or the chick from Kansas?”
So he’d read my fake bio. So fucking what? “It makes a difference?” I was stupid enough to bite.
He eyed me. “Girls from Kansas don’t usually streak across South Beach.”
I had no idea what people from Kansas did. “I’m one and the same,” I lied. “Uncuff me.”
He ignored me as his eyes narrowed. “Why do you need to find your prick costar?”
I yanked on the cuff twice for dramatic effect. “Because that motherfucker drugged me last night and I’m going to kick his scrawny, capped-teeth ass, right after I kick yours for fucking around with me.”
The tank of man stared at me as the lines between his eyes deepened. “We didn’t fuck.”
I was riled up enough to ask the stupidest of all stupid questions “Why not?”
Throwing back the sheet, he rolled and got out of the bed. Six and a half feet of muscled gladiator stood to his full height in nothing but formfitting black boxers that did little to hide the massive, massive cock he was sporting.
My breath hitched, and I forgot about Colton Bradley Payne, running naked on a beach, and being hungry. I even forgot about being handcuffed. All my blood rushed south, my pussy clenched in needful pain, and I became the one thing I despised most in the world.
Needy.
A throbbing, aching, mindless need so intense, my world reduced to a series of single-action screenshots.
He bent.
I heard a zipper.
My mouth watered.
He straightened.
I pulsed between my legs.
He strode to my side of the bed.
His intense stare landed on me.
I sucked in a breath and fought to come back to reality, but it was impossible. My heart threatened to explode as he took my hand, held it in his huge palm, and used a key to unlock the handcuff.
Then he did the last thing in the world I ever would’ve expected a man like him to do.
He gently massaged my wrist.
Every stroke of his fingers sent electric shock waves up my arm, then down my body, going straight to my neglected pussy. Four years of self-induced celibacy suddenly felt like a lifetime, and I was thinking I wanted to know what he could do with that giant cock when his deep voice broke the magical silence of my fantasies.
“We didn’t fuck, because I don’t fuck my clients.” He dropped my hand and walked out of the bedroom.
THIRSTY AND HORNY AS FUCK, I walked to the kitchen after lying to her about fucking clients. Not that I had, but there was a first time for everything.
She followed.
“What the fuck does that mean? Client,” she demanded, spitting the last word out.
I grabbed a water and took my time turning around. Shit. Wrapped in my top sheet, no makeup on, her hair everywhere like she’d been fucked all night long, she was hot. She was also lucky I had some fucking scruples.
I tipped my chin at the sheet trailing on the floor. “You gonna make my bed after tearing it apart?” Housekeeper didn’t come until next week. I fucking hated making beds.
“Who,” she growled, “are you?”
I almost smiled. “Your new bodyguard.”
“Where’s Tyler?” she demanded.
I studied her for a second, looking for the telltale signs. “Gone.” I knew Tyler hadn’t fucked her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to fuck him.
“I want him back.”
“Tough shit. He’s reassigned,” I lied.
She slapped my cell down on the counter and shoved it toward me. “Then call him and get him un-reassigned.” She glared at me like she thought I’d actually act on a fucking word she’d said.
Hot or not, she wasn’t the one paying my fee. Her agent was. And he was pissed as hell at her little stunt last night. My orders were clear. Keep her hidden until he and her publicist could spin her junkie jaunt into a PR opportunity of epic proportions. Until then, she was here and I was ground zero.
I opened the fridge and took out bacon and eggs.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Making breakfast.” I grabbed orange juice and butter. “You put my bed back together, I’ll let you eat.”
“I’m a vegan.” As if on cue, her stomach growled.
I looked at her sideways. “Because you don’t want to eat Bambi, or because you want to stay unhealthily blockbuster thin?” I’d washed every inch of that body last night. She needed twenty pounds on her, at a minimum.
She made the snorting sound again. “Whatever.”
“Answer the question.” I had fruit. I could probably make a smoothie or some shit. It wouldn’t have protein, but it’d hold her until I could get some groceries delivered.
“All right, fine. It keeps me thin, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”
I refrained from shaking my head. “Go put my bed back together and get dressed.” I threw the bacon in the oven and washed my hands.
“And what clothes am I supposed to wear? Apparently you forgot about that minor detail when you kidnapped me and brought me here without anything to wear, or my cell phone so I could call my people and escape.”
I pulled a pan out for the eggs and spared her a glance. “Not my fault you ran out of your hotel buck ass naked.”
For half a second, she looked stricken before she squared her shoulders. “If I did, there was a reason for it.”
“Tell that to the press.” I didn’t give a shit. “Go make my bed. Food’ll be ready in a few.”
“What the hell am I supposed to wear?” she practically screeched.
I purposely didn’t turn around again to look at her. “There’s a closet full of shit, pick something.”
“Of yours?” she asked incredulously.
“You see anyone else livin’ here?” Fuck, she was easy to rile. “Yeah, mine. Pick something, make my bed, and get your spoiled ass back here for breakfast.”
“You can’t speak to me like that. I’m your boss.”
This time I did look at her. Half my mouth tipped up, and I winked. “Your agent’s my boss, and I’ll speak to you how I speak to everyone else. Directly.” I wasn’t in the Marines anymore, and she wasn’t my CO. I’d speak any damn way I wanted. Giving her my back again, I tossed some butter in the pan and cracked eggs into a bowl.
For two seconds she didn’t say shit. Then her attitude came roaring back.
“Don’t cook my eggs in that butter,” she snapped before huffing back to my bedroom.
Christ almighty, she needed to be fucking spanked. I set the coffee maker and whisked the eggs. Fifteen minutes later, she showed back up as I was plating the food. Her hair was up in a bun with what looked like one of my pens from my desk stabbed through the middle of it, and she was wearing one of my plain black T-shirts that hit her midthigh.
She didn’t look like the polished chick on movie trailers that starred in every blockbuster movie in the past five years. She looked like a woman who’d just been fucked. Saying she was hot was an understatement.
I put the plates on the island next to the napkins and forks I’d already set out. “Coffee or water?”
“Coffee, no cream, almond milk if you have it, and one packet of Stevia.”
Fucking brat. I poured black coffee and set it in front of her before sitting down on one of the stools.
She got up on the stool next to mine, crossed her legs, then looked at the coffee with disdain. “Where’s the milk?” She glanced at my junk. “And how come you don’t have to put clothes on?”
“Drink it black. I already have clothes on.” I saw the way she’d looked at my cock earlier. She needed to look some more. I ate two pieces of bacon at once.
She stared at me and her stomach growled.
“Eat. Tyler says you didn’t
eat shit yesterday before you started pounding alcohol.” I gave her a warning look. “Heads up, that’s not happening on my watch.”
“Heads up,” she mimicked me. “You get me fat and the studio will sue you for millions.”
I pushed my stool back, went to the freezer, and grabbed the pint of vanilla ice cream that’d been there a month. Taking a spoon from the drawer, I dug out a giant scoop then dumped it in her coffee, spoon and all.
She looked at me like I’d lost my fucking mind.
“Cream and sugar.” I threw the pint back in the freezer.
She stared at her coffee while I sat back down, but she didn’t move.
Jesus fuck.
I stirred the damn coffee, melting the rest of the ice cream, then dumped the spoon on the counter. “There you go. Drink. Your studio can fuck off. Every man in America will thank me for putting weight on you.”
Her head popped up. “You think I’m too thin?”
“Yes.” Everywhere but her tits.
She blew out an exasperated breath. “No one’s ever told me that.”
“Quit Hollywood, gain thirty pounds and a perspective, then talk to me.” I ate half my eggs in one forkful.
She did the half snort, half laugh thing again. “No one quits Hollywood. It quits you.”
The shit about drowning last night clicked into place. “Quit if you want to quit. You don’t have to drown in that bullshit.” She had to have a shitload of money by now.
“I’m a star,” she said sarcastically as fuck. “Who said I was drowning?” She picked up her coffee and took a tentative sip.
“You did, last night. Repeatedly.” I ate the rest of my eggs.
She took another sip of her coffee and was quiet. Then after a moment, she asked, “What else did I say?”
I ate my last piece of bacon and pushed my plate away. Then I stared at her. She was fucking pretty without makeup. “It wasn’t what you said.” I was still fantasizing about her rubbing one out. The animal sounds I could’ve done without.
She swallowed, then stared straight ahead. “Okay, what did I do?”
“Straight up, you don’t remember shit?” She was all over me in the shower. Washing her and not fucking her had been a new kind of torture. I wasn’t a stranger to delayed gratification, but fuck.
“No,” she clipped.
“Nothing?” Because in the shower, there were a few minutes when I was convinced she knew what was up, including my dick.
She shook her head.
“What’d you take?” I wasn’t gonna lecture her, but come the fuck on.
She picked her fork up and pushed her eggs around. Taking a deep breath, then letting it out slow, she put her fork down. “Short answer is I don’t know. The long answer? I didn’t drink that much. So the fact that I barely remember anything, including how I wound up naked next to you in bed when I’ve been celibate for four years, tells me I was drugged. And since Colton Bradley Payne is a walking pharmacy for every and anything, I know it was him.”
I was gonna handle that costar prick of hers later, but right now I was zeroed in on the other bomb she dropped. “Four years?”
“Yes.”
Damn. “On purpose?”
“Yep.” She took another sip of coffee.
I picked her fork up, stabbed some eggs, and held it to her mouth. “Eat.”
She looked at me. “You’re bossy.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Open that sweet mouth before I force it open.” She was lucky I was a master at restraint.
Her eyes narrowed. “You’d do that?”
“Without hesitation.” And I’d enjoy every fucking second of it.
Understanding dawned. “No way.”
“Yes way.”
She tilted her head and her bun slipped. “You’re into that kinky shit?”
“Take the bite, Audrina.”
The second I said her name, something flashed in her eyes and her face went pale. Then the air between us took on a whole new level of intensity.
I stared at her.
A dozen ways to make her submit ran through my head, and I forced them all down. Knowing I shouldn’t, knowing I was a fucking fool for opening this door, I grasped her jaw. “You remember me saying your name last night.” I was only half guessing. “You liked it.”
She swallowed and shifted in her seat, but she didn’t say shit.
“There’s two ways you can eat this breakfast.” I paused, making sure she felt the pressure of my grip. “The second way, you’re not gonna like,” I warned.
“What’s the first way?” she whispered, eyes wide.
“Open your mouth, Audrina.”
She opened.
I fed her the bite, but I didn’t let go of her. I forked another and held it up.
Still chewing, she stared at me, but she didn’t open her mouth.
“You gonna try and play this out?” If she wanted to test my sincerity, I was all for it.
She swallowed, then shook her head as much as she could while I was holding on to her chin. “No.”
I fought a smirk. “Good. Open.”
She opened her mouth and took the bite, chewing and swallowing quickly.
I repeated the process, but when I held the next bite up, I didn’t put it in her mouth. I told her what I was going to do. “I’m gonna handle Payne.”
Her pulse jumped, and she tried to pull back. “How?”
I held firm, but kept my tone casual. “When was the last time you ate bacon?”
“I—I don’t remember.”
“Pick up a piece,” I ordered, putting some force into my command.
Her eyes strayed from mine for only a second. She took the piece of bacon between two fingers like it was dirt, then looked back at me, expectant.
I held her gaze. “Take a bite.”
Her chest rose and fell as uncertainty clouded her expression. “What are you doing?”
“Feeding you.” Testing her.
She stared at me a moment. “There’s more to it than that.”
No fucking shit. “I’m taking a decision off your plate.” And making her submit.
“Why?”
“Because that’s what I do.”
She frowned. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
She didn’t ask me for shit, but it still didn’t change the fact that she needed a good fucking. “You need an outlet.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What are you in control of in your life, besides what you put in your mouth?”
“I’m not anorexic,” she said instantly.
I hadn’t thought she was, but now I was fucking thinking about it. “Eat the bacon, Audrina.”
“Don’t use my name as a weapon,” she snapped, dropping the bacon on the plate.
“I’m not.” I didn’t have to. She’d just told me more than I needed to know. She was afraid of losing control when she already had none.
“Bacon isn’t good for you,” she added defensively before brushing her hands off on my shirt as it rested over her thighs.
My sick self thought about making her wash my shirt… while she wore it. “Neither is a decade of back-to-back films.” Still holding her jaw, still holding the fucking fork, I was losing patience. “This once, I’m gonna give you a choice. Eat the eggs or the bacon.”
She instantly took the bite of eggs.
I set her fork down. “What’s the problem with meat?” She’d either lied earlier and really didn’t want to eat Bambi, or she was afraid of the calories.
She pulled out of my grasp and dropped her gaze as she reached for her coffee. Then she lied to me. “Nothing.”
I calculated my next move. “What else has Payne done to you?”
“Besides be an utter ass and forget all his lines? Nothing.” Holding the mug with both hands, she took a sip of coffee. “What’s your name?”
“Look at me.” I didn’t like not having her eyes on me when I spoke to her.<
br />
Before looking up at me, she took another sip of her coffee to show me she thought she was in control.
It didn’t fucking work.
Looking vulnerable as hell, her hair falling out of its makeshift bun, the sun landing on her through the wall of windows in my condo, she was beautiful. Beautiful and young. Too damn young for me. I gave her my nickname. “Tank.”
She blinked. Twice. “Your name is Tank?”
For a split second, I actually contemplated telling her my real name. Mentally kicking my own ass, I nodded once. “Why’d you choose the eggs over the bacon?”
She stared at me a moment, then she went for her coffee. “My stomach will revolt. I cheated once, after I’d gone vegan. I ate a steak. I was sick for two days.” She picked up her fork. “I don’t have time to be sick.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Finish your eggs.” I ate a piece of her bacon and stood.
“Who’s here?” she asked nervously.
“Your agent.”
The switch in her demeanor was instant. Her face dropped, her shoulders sank and she closed her eyes.
A protective instinct that went way fucking past professional hit me, and I was suddenly on high alert. I grasped her chin as a second knock came. “Tell me what I need to know, right now,” I demanded.
“Nothing,” she said, miserable.
“I don’t have to open that door.” And I wouldn’t if there was a problem. Her agent sounded like an asshole when I’d talked to him last night. He’d seemed older, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t taken advantage of her, or fucked her over in some way. “If you don’t want to talk to him right now, you don’t have to.”
She grasped my hand, then looked at me, really looked at me, and what I’d bet money was the real Audrina MacKenzie came out. “Thank you. That’s honestly the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a really long time.”
I wasn’t nice. I wasn’t anything close to fucking nice. The only reason I’d send the agent packing was because despite the thousand obvious reasons why it was the worst idea I’d had in the past decade, I wanted to fuck her. Not just fuck her, but dominate the hell out of her. Every deviant way I could think of. So no, I wasn’t nice, or well-intentioned. I was self-serving.
“The agent,” I reminded her.
She dropped her hand and her gaze and pulled out of my grasp as she stood. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
