by Pam Godwin
Except I’ve been dragging my feet on that last part. I despise putting on a Hollywood smile for the cameras. I just want to be left alone. But at my age, it’s hard to land leading roles in major motion pictures. I have to keep my name on top of the latest news. Without a prominent, desirable public image, I’m out of work.
“So I’m here to solve your negative press.” His hard brown eyes lock on me with caustic focus. “Explain how you see our private relationship playing out.”
I share a look with Reese. When I agreed to hire Infidelity, the purpose was twofold. I need a stable companion to eventually accompany me at award shows and red-carpet appearances. But the deeper, more vulnerable reason is I ache for a lover I can trust.
I’m under no illusions that a dependable relationship will grow from a contractual agreement, but I’m tired of all the men shuffling in and out of my bedroom. I don’t even have sex with most of them. They’re too googly-eyed and overeager. I need a companion, not a fanboy. But more than that, I need a submissive man who won’t walk all over me.
The fact that Decker Gabrielli isn’t drooling at my feet and obsessing over my stardom is a breath of fresh air. But there isn’t a servile bone in his rock-hard body.
“What’s your relationship with him?” Decker nods at Reese.
“He’s my personal assistant.”
“Laynee.” The reprimanding sound of my name on his lips makes me tremble.
“I don’t like your tone.” I set my jaw. “Questioning me isn’t in your job description.”
“Let me lay this out for you.” He looks me directly in the eye. “I’ll do whatever you ask in public. The fancy parties, the photo opportunities… I’ll hold your arm and play the part of the smiling mindless escort. But in private, I will not be your whipping boy. Nor will I stand aside while you fuck other men and make a fool of me. I will be in your bed, and I do not share.”
“What?” My blood boils. “I never said—”
“I’m not finished.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but he doesn’t need to. His sheer presence demands compliance. “Whatever you’re doing with him behind closed doors”—he thrusts a thumb at Reese—“it ends now.”
My mouth hangs open.
“Tell me.” He reclines in the chair and drapes his arms over the armrests. “How does Laynee Somerset entertain the men her assistant chooses for her?”
His condescending attitude makes me seethe from every pore in my body. Those men entertain me, not the other way around.
Christ, this is so outside my normal mode of operation. Yeah, Reese selects my companions and arranges the liaisons in hotel rooms like this one. Nine times out of ten, the guy is hard the instant he recognizes me. They get off on the idea of sharing a night with a celebrity. But I’m the one who controls the pleasure.
While Decker’s question feels like a prompt for me to take the reins, it’s just an illusion. I know his kind. I was married to a domineering piece of shit.
With a deep breath, I strengthen my spine and remind myself why he’s here. “I restrain them.”
“That so?” He arches a brow. “Show me.”
CHAPTER 8
LAYNEE
With a belly full of butterflies, I rise to my feet like the empowered woman I strive to be and stride across the room. Holding my shoulders in perfect alignment, I keep my chin high and my gait slow and confident.
“Does your assistant always sit in on your play dates?” Decker reclines in the desk chair.
“I have a name, you know.” Reese shifts to the edge of the loveseat.
“Yes.” I dig the cuffs out of my suitcase. “He stays with me.”
“Why?” Decker asks.
“It pleases me.” I return to the sitting area, holding his gaze.
He plucks one of the cuffs from my hand and scrutinizes it with a smirk on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“I expected it to be lined with pink fur.”
The muscles in my neck go taut. I had these shackles custom-made with thick black leather and heavy-duty metal buckles. They’re my favorite cuffs.
“Are you mocking me?” I snatch it back.
“No. I approve.” His smile seems genuine. “Carry on.”
Arrgh. I’m holding the restraints, yet he’s the one calling the shots? This is one of the million reasons I avoid men like him.
When I peek at Reese behind me, he rests a hand against his mouth. He thinks he’s hiding his expression, but amusement gleams in his eyes. Damn him.
I turn back to Decker. “Arms on the armrests.”
He sits taller in the chair and follows my order. His gaze kisses a trail of heat across my face, and when I bend down to buckle his wrist to the wooden arm, the warm whiskey scent of his breath saturates my senses. Each time my fingers graze his forearm—the sparse hair, smooth skin, and flexed muscle beneath—I fumble with the buckle.
“I like you like this.” He reaches up with his free hand and brushes the hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “No makeup or fake smiles. Your natural beauty is devastating.”
My heart stops, and it takes me a couple seconds to breathe again. “Your other hand.”
He lowers his arm, and once he’s securely buckled, I return to the loveseat and take him in.
Goddamn, he’s hauntingly sexy. All lean muscle and self-confidence. His t-shirt stretches across defined pecs and a flat stomach. Low-waisted jeans give a peek of carved abs and pronounced indentions where his hips cut in. The dark shadow of whiskers and square jaw add to his masculine allure.
He’s not bulky, yet he barely fits in that chair. It’s his bearing, the way he holds himself. He radiates a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe, one that any woman with a pulse would love to tame. I wouldn’t mind feeling delicate and protected in his arms, but I’ve fallen for that fantasy before, and it ends in heartache.
Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy him on my terms. My entire body shivers at the thought.
“You’re staring.” He doesn’t move, doesn’t even twist his wrists in the cuffs.
“I like you like this.” I echo his words with a playful smile. “Bound and at my mercy.”
“So bondage is your thing. The other guys…” His jaw twitches. “They’re into this shit?”
I’ve restrained dozens of men, and it’s always the same. They squirm and sweat with hard-ons tenting their pants. In the end, they all come.
“They get their night with a celebrity.” I shrug. “And I get to do what pleases me. It’s mutually beneficial.”
Except the bulge in Decker’s jeans isn’t hard. He’s either completely unaffected by this or damn good at controlling his responses.
“And what is that?” he asks. “What pleases you?”
I lift a bare foot and press my toes against his inner thigh, spreading his legs wider. He doesn’t fight me, but his gaze darts to Reese.
Therein lies Decker’s hard limits. I memorized his profile, the details surrounding the tragedy that destroyed his company, his financial issues, and his hard limits. No sex with men. Nothing breaches his ass. I won’t cross his boundaries, but I will push against them.
“I like to watch.” Just thinking about watching two men go at it makes my nipples harden and my panties wet.
He glances at my chest and grunts a sound of disbelief. “My hands are tied, sweetheart. Since I can’t stroke my dick for you, what exactly are you going to watch?” He drags his gaze to Reese, and an uneasy smile seizes the corner of his mouth. “Ah.”
I nod at Reese without looking away from the man making my pussy throb. It’s a guarantee Decker will fight this. My hands tremble with nerves even as wet heat gathers between my legs.
Reese kneels before him and reaches for the button on Decker’s fly. If Decker’s breathing speeds up, it’s not noticeable. He doesn’t move a muscle.
“Tell me what this is, Laynee.” His voice is smoke and shrapnel.
“I like to watch Reese suck men off.” My pulse races. “He’s
going to pull you out and wrap his mouth around you.”
“No,” Decker says calmly. “Not going to happen.”
Reese slides down the zipper on Decker’s jeans, and the sound echoes through the room.
Decker’s fingers twitch on the armrest. “What do you get out of this?” His glare is bone-chilling.
I suck in a hungry breath. “Exactly what you’d get from watching two beautiful women go down on each other. It’s hot, Decker.”
Reese grips Decker’s waistband to shimmy the jeans and briefs down his hips.
“I wouldn’t do that.” Decker remains still as a statue, his tone unnervingly composed.
When Reese glances back at me with hooded eyes, I don’t have to look at his groin to know he’s hard. I see that heated expression whenever he fucks a woman or man in front of me. He’s such a dirty exhibitionist, and that totally works for me.
I give him a chin nod. Keep going.
“I’m the client, Decker.” I lean back on the couch and tuck my legs beneath me, settling in. “You’re paid to please me, and this is what I want.”
The sight of Reese on his knees with his head over Decker’s lap produces mini-spasms between my legs. Where Reese is boyishly handsome and safe, Decker is potently mature and gorgeous and scary as hell. Just imagining his cock in Reese’s mouth heats my skin from the inside out. If I knew Decker better, if I trusted him, I’d consider sucking him myself.
He stares down at the top of Reese’s head, and something seems to settle over him, a calmness that makes my scalp tingle. Reese pulls on Decker’s waistband, and intuition sends me lurching forward. Too late.
The chair flies up behind Decker, and his knees drop to the floor, taking Reese with him. In one fluid movement, Decker hooks a leg around Reese’s throat, maneuvering him into a chokehold that has him writhing on his back and clawing at Decker’s thigh.
“Let him go!” I launch at Decker, yanking on his leg, unable to move him.
“Tap the floor if we have an understanding.” Decker suspends the chair behind his back, his wrists still shackled to the armrests.
“You’re hurting him!” My voice shrills, and my heartbeat roars in my ears. “Release him right now!”
Reese’s mouth gapes soundlessly, eyes bulging, and face bright red as he slams his palm on the floor, tapping frantically.
In the next breath, Decker stands and takes a step back, holding the chair behind him.
Reese grabs his throat and rolls to his side, coughing.
I clutch his shoulders and run my hands through his hair, my stomach roiling with guilt. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m fine. It’s fine.” He laughs and falls to his back on the floor. “We read his background, Laynee. Are you really surprised?”
Decker might’ve been a trained fighter, but he seemed so calm in the restraints. Right up until Reese tried to blow him.
Turning, I find Decker sitting in the chair, arms still shackled to the armrests and legs stretched out in front of him. Completely unruffled with his zipper open and black briefs peering through.
Arrogant motherfucker. This is exactly why I don’t mess around with men like him. I provoked him. I know this, but abusers don’t always need a reason to attack. If I let this man into my house, I’ll wake up in a few months in the same position as before—hiding bruises and digging myself out of self-hatred.
“I don’t give a shit about the agreement.” I close the distance, hands shaking as I remove the cuffs. “Clearly, Infidelity doesn’t know the first thing about compatibility.” I toss the shackles. “Get out.”
He rubs his wrists, and half of his mouth lifts in a smile. “If I got a dollar every time someone told me to do that…”
“I mean it. I want you gone. This…” I wave a hand, indicating his pompous attitude. “This isn’t what I paid for.”
Rising from the chair, he prowls toward me.
I back up. “What are you doing?” I continue back-stepping, my heart rate jolting beneath that look in his eyes. “I told you to leave.”
With a long stride, he reaches me, throws me over his shoulder, and carries me to the bed.
“Put me down!” I crane my neck and find Reese retreating from the room. “Reese!”
He closes the door, shutting me in with this…this caveman! Oh my God, I’m going to kill him. Both of them.
“Decker—”
He dumps me unceremoniously on the bed. My pulse explodes, and before I can scramble away, he’s on top of me, his chest pressing against mine and his hands pinning my arms above my head.
“Get off me!” I buck beneath him, kicking and writhing and wearing myself out.
“God, you’re feisty.” He traps my legs with the weight of his.
My breath wheezes out of control, and black spots dot my vision. FuckFuckFuck. I’m going to have a panic attack.
“Shh.” He shifts my wrists to one hand and gently brushes the hair from my face. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I’ve heard that before. So many fucking times. Sharp pain stabs through my chest and invigorates my struggling. I can’t do this. Not again. “I just watched you choke—”
“Reese touched me without permission. I neutralized him.”
“You’re touching…me…” No air. Can’t breathe. I twist my wrists in the manacle of his hand. “Let go!”
“Breathe, Laynee.” He releases my arms and braces his upper body on an elbow.
The space he put between our chests helps, but he’s still here, all around me, twice my size, and a hundred times my strength. He’s too much, too strong, clouding my senses with his hard body and masculine scent. I can’t think when he’s this close, watching me with those intelligent eyes.
“Another breath.” He strokes my hair, waiting until I obey. “Good girl. Now another.”
My breathing evens out, but I’m still angry and scared shitless. “Why are you still here?”
“Infidelity is paying me to be your companion. I signed a one-year agreement.”
“It was a mistake. You can go. I’ll call them and fix it.”
“I don’t think so.” He regards me with so much intensity I turn my head.
My bones feel heavy, and my insides clench and cramp. I hate that he scares me this much. I hate that I escape these situations only to end up right where I started. I should’ve told Decker to leave the moment he prowled into the room. But beautiful dominant men are my weakness. I’m fucking weak.
With a gentle grip on my jaw, he forces my eyes back to his. “When you restrain those men and watch them with Reese, what happens after? Do you fuck them?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Communication is the only way this will work.” He searches my eyes, probing, seeing too much. “I signed an NDA and a dozen other forms. I won’t hurt you physically, emotionally, or with any of the information you give me. You have my word.”
I draw in a shredded breath. “I fuck them…sometimes.”
“Define sometimes.”
“I don’t know.” I give him a shrug and play it off.
He’s going to figure out something’s wrong with me, and for whatever reason, I don’t want him to think less of me.
“Give me an estimate,” he says. “Do you fuck them fifty-percent of the time? Once a week? Every other—”
“Twice.” Why did I just admit that?
“Twice a week?” Not a hint of judgment in his tone.
I shake my head. “Twice in two years.”
His breath catches, and something sparks in his eyes before he closes them.
“Thank you.” When his lashes lift, his gaze roams my face, his expression contemplative. “Since we’re leaving in the morning—”
“I’m leaving tomorrow. You’re—”
He presses a finger against my lips. “I need to take care of something before we go.” He removes his hand to glance at his watch. “I’ll do that tonight.”
“I told you—”
“I won’t be gone long.” He looks around the room. “Is this where we’re sleeping?”
“This is my room.” The thought of sharing a bed with him skyrockets my pulse. “Your room’s on the other side of the penthouse.”
“Tonight, we’re just sharing a bed.” He cups my jaw, his eyes as steely as his voice. “Nothing more.”
He fists my hair and angles my head back, the possessive hold causing my objection to come out as a squeak of noise. I peer up at him, breathless, and find him staring at my mouth. Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to?
No. Definitely not.
My heart flutters. My lips feel tingly, hyper-sensitive, and swollen, and he hasn’t even lowered his head.
When he leans back instead of closing the distance, every cell in my body protests. This isn’t good. He captivates me, terrifies me, and turns my brain into a rattletrap of conflicting wants. No man should have this much power over a woman.
He claimed he’s still here because of the agreement, but why did he sign the damn thing in the first place? Money? Power? Sex? Isn’t that what every man wants?
They all want something from me. They take, take, take, because why not? I’m rich and famous and don’t have feelings. They’re all smiles and compliments and promises…right before they stab me in the back. Literally.
“I can’t do this.” I push at his chest. “I don’t do sleepovers. Not with anyone.”
“I don’t either, but this is going to be a venture in exceptions.” He releases me, slides off the bed, and stalks toward the door.
I scramble after him. “I’m calling Infidelity and canceling the agreement.”
“Okay.” He tosses a cocky smirk over his shoulder. “You’ll call Ms. Flores. She’ll tell you you’re shit out of luck. You’ll spend the rest of the night lamenting Infidelity. Then I’ll come back, slip into bed behind you, and hold you close. You’ll put up a good fight, but you’ll eventually wriggle that ass against me.” A wolfish grin. “Because you find me irresistible.”
