Wardrobe Malfunction

by Samantha Towle

She’s like every man’s fantasy.

  She’s my fantasy.

  And she’s about to become my reality.

  “Babe, not that you don’t look sexy as fuck, but I believe I expressly said, boots only.”

  Fighting a smile, she lifts her chin, and with those vixen eyes fixed on mine, she unclips the bra, slides it down her arms, and throws it to the floor. Then, she hooks her fingers into the elastic of the panties and pulls them down her hips and over her boots before kicking them aside.

  Her hands go to her hips. “Better?”

  She’s standing there in nothing but those boots. The hotel door is still open. Anyone could see her, and she doesn’t give a fuck.

  Her liberty is intoxicating.

  I want to inhale it. Snort it…her into my lungs and breathe her for the rest of my life.

  “Almost,” I growl. I stride through the door, slamming it shut behind me. I pick her up, loving the feel of those boot-covered legs going around my waist. “Now, it’s better.”

  Then, I kiss her like I’ve wanted to kiss her all night. Hard and deep.

  Charly

  These last few weeks have gone by in a blur of laughter, fun, and sex with Vaughn. It’s been amazing.

  We spend evenings watching movies and eating room service. And I’ve just started watching Julian’s show with Vaughn. But we don’t spend every evening together. Sometimes, we’re on the film set until late. Other times, Vaughn has dinner with Brandon and Natasha, or he goes for drinks with Gabriel and Julian. Some evenings, I go out with Ava and Logan or just Ava. We go out for dinner or to the movies or just out for drinks.

  But, at the end of every night, Vaughn and I end up in bed together.

  We haven’t spent a night apart since the first night we slept together.

  We generally always spend the night at my hotel. It’s less likely that we’ll get spotted. It’s more likely that people—hotel staff—would notice if I kept frequenting Vaughn’s room. He can slip from here, going unnoticed.

  I don’t really know what it means. Or what’s happening between us.

  I mean, I don’t think we’re dating because we can’t exactly go out on a date together, which does make me a little frustrated at times. But it also works for me, too, because I can’t have the press delving into my personal life right now.

  And, because I don’t really know what Vaughn and I are doing, where we’re heading—if anywhere at all—I can’t have my life upended.

  We might not be dating, but I figure we’re fuck buddies, and I think we’re exclusive. Well, I hope we’re exclusive. I don’t think he’s seeing anyone else, and the fact that he ends every night in my bed tells me the same.

  And I’m glad. More than glad.

  I’m happy. Happier than I can ever remember being.

  But one thing I do know is, when this thing with Vaughn does come to an end—because all good things end—it’s going to hurt like a bitch.

  Because I like him. A lot.

  We’re at my hotel tonight. Vaughn is working on his laptop, and I’m watching Romeo + Juliet, the Leonardo DiCaprio version, while working on that wedding dress I’ve been designing for a while now. The skirt has been evading me, but I think I finally have it. I’m going for a pleated chiffon skirt. Simple but elegant.

  “I like it,” Vaughn says from over my shoulder.

  I cover my drawing with my hand. I didn’t realize he was watching. This is the first time I’ve drawn in front of him.

  “Don’t hide it.” He comes to sit beside me, pulling my hand from it. “It’s really good.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “I didn’t know you designed. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I shrug. “It’s not important. It’s just something I like to do.”

  “May I?” He gestures to my sketchpad.

  I tentatively hand it over to him. He starts looking through my designs.

  “These are amazing, Pins. Why don’t you do it professionally?”

  “I tried. After I graduated from college. But it’s not an easy industry to get into. So, I took a job temping with an agency, and the first job I got offered was in wardrobe. I’m good with clothes, and I was always a good seamstress—”

  “Except for when you’re stabbing innocent guys in the balls.”

  I stick my tongue out at him. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

  “Probably not.” He chuckles, continuing to look through my designs. “Well, I think you should try again. I’m no fashion expert—”

  “No kidding.” I laugh.

  He pretends to ignore me and seamlessly carries on, “But I think you should try again. You’ve got real talent. It’d be a tragedy to let it go to waste. I know some people I can put you in touch with.”

  “I don’t need any favors.” I sound touchy. I don’t know why.

  “Friends help each other.” He frowns.

  I want to ask if that is what we are—friends. Is that all we are? Friends who fuck and fall asleep in each other’s arms?

  But, of course, I don’t.

  “I know. I’m just used to doing things on my own. I want my success to be on my own merit.”

  “And it will. But it doesn’t hurt to have someone put you in touch with the people who can help you get there.”

  I stare at his face, his expression so earnest, and something inside me ruptures. I feel like I’m bleeding out. I can feel my face heating up.

  I swallow, take my sketchpad from him, and close it up. “Sure, that’d be good. Thanks.”

  I put my pad down and rest back, watching the TV.

  I can feel Vaughn’s eyes on me, but I don’t say anything.

  It’s at the part when Romeo and Juliet are getting married, and that cute kid starts to sing “When Doves Cry.”

  “I love this song,” I murmur.

  “The Prince version or this one?”

  I turn my face to him. “I like this one, but nothing beats Prince’s version. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “I know.” Vaughn sighs. “I was lucky enough to meet him once.”

  “Really?” I turn my body to his. “What was he like?”

  “Cool. Awesome as fuck. Everything you’d expect him to be. I was at this party of some big music producer, and Prince was there. He and a few other musicians started doing an impromptu jamming session. I got to see him sing live. It was amazing.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “It’s one perk of my lifestyle.” He doesn’t sound happy when he says that.

  “I’m sure there’s more than one.”

  He glances at me, and his eyes stay on mine. “There are a few things. Meeting you was, of course, one.”

  “Of course.” I grin.

  He picks up his phone and starts playing with it. A few seconds later, Prince’s “When Doves Cry” starts to play.

  He mutes the TV and stands up on the bed, holding out a hand to me. “Dance with me?”

  “Dance with you?” I stare up at him.

  “Yeah. I know how much you love a good twerk.”

  “This isn’t really twerking music, West.” I smile.

  “Well, maybe I just want to dance with you, so I can use it as an excuse to grope your ass.”

  I laugh. “Like you need an excuse.”

  “Come on, dance with me, Pins.” He moves his open hand closer to me.

  So, I slip mine in and let him pull me to my feet. He brings me close to him and starts to move us on the bed.

  I link my arms around his neck. His hands go to my back and then slide lower where he squeezes my ass, grinning at me.

  I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t think you know how to be serious.”

  “Hey, I can be serious when I want to be.”

  “Like when?”

  “Like when I’m licking your pussy and making you come. I’m seriously concentrating then.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that.”

  “And when I’m fucking you. I’m seriou
s then.”

  “Any examples that don’t involve sex?”

  He presses his lips together, giving it some thought. Then, he looks down at me and says, “Nope.”

  And I laugh again.

  “Whose idea was it to dance on the bed? Because this isn’t fucking easy,” he says.

  “I could’ve told you that.”

  “Dance on beds often, do you?”

  “No, I just have this thing called common sense, and common sense says it wouldn’t be easy to slow dance on a squishy mattress.”

  “Harsh, Pins. You’ve hurt my feelings.”

  “You have feelings?” I tease.

  “You’re an evil woman,” he grumbles. “Good thing you’re hot.”

  “Right back at ya, West. You don’t think I’m sleeping with you for your brains, do you? I just want you for your hot body and big cock.”

  “I fucking knew it!” He lifts me up before taking me down to the bed, making me squeal.

  I wrap my legs around his waist. He lifts his head, staring into my eyes. Then, he kisses me.

  He kisses me like he always does. Intensely. Like he’ll die if he doesn’t.

  I’ve never been kissed in this way before. And I don’t think I ever will again if it’s not him I’m kissing.

  The song moves onto Cigarettes After Sex’s “Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby.”

  Vaughn removes my T-shirt and bra, and then he pulls his own shirt off, tossing it to the floor.

  He’s straight back to my mouth, kissing me again. His hand goes to the zipper on my jean shorts. He opens them and then shifts, pulling them down my legs and off. My panties go next.

  He reaches into his pocket and gets out a condom. Then, he removes his own jeans.

  I don’t take my eyes off him once.

  Then, he’s suited up and back between my legs.

  Eyes on mine, he pushes inside me. No words spoken.

  I push my head back into the mattress, my eyes closing.

  “Eyes open.”

  I blink them open.

  “Eyes always on me,” he says, thrusting into me, taking me to that place no one else can but him.

  And I keep them locked on him the whole time until we’re both exploding together.

  Then, later, when we’re lying in bed in the darkness, and I’m in his arms, sleepy and sated from the orgasm he gave me, he says, “Pins, I’ve just thought of something I’m serious about.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?” I ask, yawning.

  “You,” he says.

  And, suddenly, I’m not so sleepy anymore.

  Does he even mean that the way it sounded? Or is he just fucking with me like usual?

  He kisses my forehead. “Night, Pins.”

  “Uh…night, West,” I say, my heart pounding.

  He pulls me closer and sighs a sleepy sound.

  He was joking, right?

  Yeah, he was definitely joking.

  I mean, he wouldn’t just say it like that if he actually meant it, right?

  Right.

  But, even still, I can’t sleep, and I lie there for ages, feeling confused as hell.

  And, when his breathing has evened out and he’s sleeping, I trace my fingers over his cheek. “I’m serious about you, too, West,” I whisper, knowing he can’t hear me.

  Because, even if he didn’t mean it, I do.

  And it scares the hell out of me.

  Vaughn

  I step out of the shower in my trailer. In that last shoot we did, I was covered in fake blood. It’s a motherfucker to get out of your hair, so I was in there for ages, scrubbing it out.

  I dry off and pull on a pair of jeans. I forgot to bring a shirt in with me.

  Toweling off my hair, I wander out of the bathroom to grab a shirt.

  “Hey, V.”

  I freeze. Slowly, I turn around.

  Piper.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I toss the towel aside, not caring where it lands.

  “It’s good to see you, too, V.”

  “How did you get in?”

  She laughs and rolls her eyes. “It’s not exactly hard. I am Piper Watts. Not some scum off the street.”

  “Opinions vary.”

  Her eyes sharpen.

  “Well, it wasn’t nice seeing you, so…” I gesture to the door.

  Ignoring me, she steps forward. The look in her eyes is telling. “I want you back,” she says.

  I laugh. “You’re insane. And I definitely don’t want you back. In fact, I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

  “I made a mistake.”

  “You screwed my best friend for months. Hardly a mistake. How is Cain by the way?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him since the show. I’ve regretted so badly what happened. I’ve wanted to come see you so many times, but I knew you were angry, and you needed to get that out of your system.”

  “You mean, my drink and sex addiction. Oh, and my tendencies toward violence. You told them I hit you, for fuck’s sake, Piper.”

  “I never said any of that, V. You know the press; they make shit up.” She steps forward and wraps her hands around my wrists. “I miss you.”

  I yank them away and step back. “Yeah, well, I don’t miss you. I don’t even like you. I’m not sure I ever did.”

  “Do you remember how good we used to be together?”

  “No. I remember I used to like fucking you, but that got old fast.”

  Her brows draw together. I’m surprised they can move with the amount of Botox she has done.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I really do. What are you here for, Piper? Really?”

  “You, I told you.”

  “No, you’re after something. But, honestly, I don’t care. There’s nothing you can do to hurt me. Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.” I nod in the direction of the door.

  “V, listen to me; the only thing I want is you. I want you back.” She’s in my space in seconds and presses her hands to my chest.

  “Yoo-hoo! It’s me! You’d better be decent…or not…”

  Charly’s soft laughter tickles my ears just as I’ve caught hold of Piper’s wrist to try to get the crazy bitch off me.

  But, instantly, I know how this will look to Charly.

  And it’s not good. Not good at all.

  She looks frozen to the spot. The hurt in her expression is so clear and evident and like a punch to the chest.

  “Charly.” I shove Piper aside.

  She seems to snap back to attention, her face and eyes clearing of all emotion. “I just came to drop off your clothes for tomorrow.” She drops the garment bag in her hand over the chair by the door. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  And, before I can say another word, she’s gone, back out the door.

  I’m going to fucking strangle Piper.

  “You.” I turn on her. “Out. Now.”

  She laughs, her eyes going to the door that Charly just exited, and in this moment, I can’t see one thing that I ever saw in this woman. She’s a total bitch.

  She looks back at me, a twisted smile on her face. “Her? Really, V? I thought you had better taste than that.”

  “Clearly not because I dated your psycho ass for six months. And, for fuck’s sake, stop calling me V! I hate it. I’ve always hated it. And not that it’s any of your fucking business, but no, I’m not dating her. Even still, she has more class in her little finger than you have in your whole body. Now, get your bony ass the fuck out of my trailer before I pick you up and throw you out myself, and then you’ll really have a story to sell to the press.”

  My chest is heaving. I’m raging. And I need to find Charly.

  “Fine, have it your way, V,” she accentuates just to piss me off. “Have your fun with your little chippie. You’ll be crawling back to me soon enough when you get bored.”

  I grab a T-shirt that was hanging over the back of the sofa. Not caring if it’s dirty, I pull it on. “Honest
ly, I’d rather chop my nuts off, fry them in a hot pan, and eat them than ever get back with you.”

  “Fuck you!” she snaps.

  “And there’s the girl I never loved.” I laugh, pushing my feet into my sneakers. “Now, get the fuck out of my trailer, and don’t ever come back, you crazy bitch.”

  “You’ll regret this, Vaughn West!” she yells like a bad movie villain before slamming her way out of my trailer.

  I grab my cell and call Charly’s number, but it just rings and then goes to voice mail.

  I wait for a beat, making sure Piper is gone, before leaving to find Charly. I don’t trust Piper, and I sure as hell don’t want her following me to Charly. Knowing Piper, she’d take pictures of me with Charly and sell them to the highest bidder.

  I head straight for the wardrobe trailer, hoping she’ll be there.

  And she is, but she’s not alone. Ava’s there.

  “Hey, Vaughn, what can we do for you?” Ava smiles at me.

  Charly hasn’t looked at me. She’s over on the other side of the trailer, looking through a drawer.

  “I just need Charly for a minute.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. Charly, Vaughn needs you,” Ava calls to her before disappearing into the back.

  I see Charly’s body stiffen.

  “Is it important, or can it wait?” she says without even looking up, her voice as rigid as her body. “I’m busy right now.”

  Pretending to look through a drawer. Right.

  “It’s important,” I say in a voice that means I’m not fucking around.

  I won’t have her avoiding me and hurting over something that she thinks happened that definitely did not when I can fix this with a few words.

  She pauses and then slowly rights herself before turning to face me. The hurt in her eyes that she’s trying to hide slays me.

  “Fine,” she says tonelessly, her eyes narrowing, her hands going to her hips. “What’s so important that it can’t wait?”

  If she wasn’t hurting and this wasn’t a fucked up situation, I’d be turned on right now.

  Okay, maybe I’m a little turned on, but she’s hot as fuck. And, when she’s angry, she’s off-the-charts hot.

  “I ripped my shirt,” I lie, knowing that Ava could be listening to what we’re saying right now.

  “Okay, give it here, and I’ll fix it for you.” She sticks her hand out, knowing full well I don’t have a ripped shirt and that I definitely don’t have one with me.