Double Take: A Leading Man Romance (9 page)

And he snores.

It’s not loud, and it’s not constant. It’s a slight rattle on a few of his deep inhales. It’s good to know that he recharges sometimes and turns his mind off. I wonder briefly what he’s dreaming about, and if I’m anywhere in the equation at all.

He stirs, so I shift even closer and lay my head against his bare chest. His arm winds around me as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s instinct for him almost. I push up to press my lips to his softly, and he responds by pursing his lips to accept it. It’s so sweet that I don’t know how to react.

I reach behind me to grab my phone and I crane my neck to check the time. It’s barely 5:30am, but call-time for crew today is 8:30am. That means Rob will want to be there by 6:30am. I decide that he’s too peaceful to stir, so I pry myself from his arms and climb out of bed.

I put on coffee first; my coffee maker is antiquated and barely works, but when I’m able to kick it into gear, it makes the best brew in the city. Unfortunately, food is somewhat limited. I don’t eat at home very often and I’m not a fan of leftovers, so I’ve got a pantry devoid of anything except for Frosted Flakes and Butter Lovers Popcorn. Neither of those things sound particularly romantic.

I settle on toast, because it’s the best option I have.

It’s rye, so I’m not sure that’s a winner either, but it’s better than nothing. If Rob eats this, it will be out of politeness. He’ll grab something from set once we’re there anyway, so as soon as the bread is in the toaster, I eject it, return it to the bread bag, and wait by the coffee maker, tapping my fingers on the table.

It’s either the sound of the bubbling brew or the smell, but I hear movement from my bed and I peek around the divider. Rob is sitting on the edge of it, rubbing his eyes a little with the heel of his hand.

It’s a fact: everyone looks cute when they rub their eyes, but Rob looks adorable, like he’s all fluff and no tough when he’s half-asleep with his defenses down. His hair is tussled and his body is hunched over, and I’ve never found anyone quite so attractive before in my life.

He hadn’t redressed when we went to bed last night, so when he stands, he’s in all of his naked glory. He looks more like a sculpture than a man. He’s chiseled, perfect, and exactly what I would dream up if I could mold my perfect man. His stubble is even more pronounced this morning, making his chin dark, and I almost want to tell him not to shave it at all. It would be such a shame.

He’s yawning when he comes into the kitchen, coming up behind me. I’m in a plain pair of navy panties and an oversized white shirt that reads,
I SPEAK FLUENT MOVIE QUOTES
.

His hands slide to my middle, his chin resting on my shoulder, and he turns his head to press a slow kiss to my neck. “Morning,” he murmurs. “You’re a godsend.”

“Don’t get
too
excited, this thing doesn’t always work.” As if to prove my point, the coffee maker lets out a sputtering noise and water shoots from the reservoir. I clamp down the top and hold it there, and it finally begins a slow drip into the decanter. “See what I mean?”

“It’s just… interactive.” He seems amused by his own joke and he lays a line of kisses down the length of my clothed shoulder. “You’re wearing too much.”

I hesitate at that. “Don’t you want to be on set in, like… an hour?”

“It can wait another few minutes.”

Okay. So Rob is perfect. There’s no sacrifice for him, really. There’s nothing that says that he’s giving up his career for me. It’s a few seconds less on set, and no one will be there anyway. But it means the world to me. His hand slips down further, fingers gathering up my shirt, and his palm glides inside of the waistband of my panties.

My body heats up immediately, as though he’s found a simple button that he pushes to turn me on, and I press back against him. I feel his cock stirring against my ass, a small feeling at first. His forefinger finds my clitoris and circles it, and I am already beginning to come undone. “Oh god, Rob…” I’m reduced to monosyllables as he dips his finger further, pressing it inside of me. My body responds in kind, slickening against him, welcoming the intrusion.

“Good girl, look at you. You’re so wet.”

His other hand splays over my stomach to keep me flush against him, and I rub my ass against his hips, giving his cock friction. He groans under his breath, but he’s still got a measure of control.

Rob adds another finger that he curls inside of me, and my body is shamefully his, completely at his mercy. I gasp and grab the edge of the kitchen counter, my knuckles getting whiter with each of his ministrations. God, how I want him. I can’t get enough.

His breath is hot and it beats against me, his stubble scratching the sensitive skin of my neck. My hips roll against him, trying to pick up his pace, but he is unsparing and only adds to my desperation by rubbing my clit with his thumb. His fingers pump me erratically and I’m whimpering, though there’s very little sound. I’m just breathless. Causeless. I’m his right now, in the literal palm of his hand.

“Come on, Kylie. Give me everything.”

I didn’t think I was close to coming, but his words take me to my edge quickly. My thighs clamp down against his hand and my orgasm sweeps through me suddenly, catching me off guard. I crest and I fall, hands searching the counter for something to grip. I find nothing, so I reach back and grip his hair, keeping him against me.

My body shudders as my inner walls clutch his fingers in wave after wave, sensitivity to his touch and growing by the moment. I rut my hips against his hand until the last crescendo has subsided, and I let out a stilled heave of a sigh.

Rob draws his fingers out from inside of me but strokes my labia for a few moments, easing me down easily. He finally draws out his fingers completely and hugs me tightly, and I feel the full scope of his hardened cock against me.

I’m about to offer to do something about that when he kisses the side of my face and murmurs, “We should get ready to head out. You have portable coffee cups?”

I nod, my hands trembling as I stretch up to the cabinet. I can’t quite reach it without climbing on tip toe, and I don’t want to and risk losing some of the contact I have with Rob right now. He reads me well and he reaches up, his height acting to his advantage. He finds two thermoses and pulls them down, his arm still wrapped around my belly, keeping me against him.

“When you change,” he says, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world, “take off your panties and give them to me.”

I crane my head a little in questioning, but barely manage a, “Why?” before I’m silenced by his brilliant smile.

“I want to know I can have you whenever I want you.”

I grin from ear to ear and nod, and Rob fills both cups with piping hot coffee. I don’t know what he’s done to me over the course of a few days, but I know that I like it. He’s adventurous, strangely boyish, and monstrously attractive, and he
wants me
. I can’t think of anywhere I would rather be.

Lori is pissed. Again.

She’s always been a total
sacrifice who you need to in order to get what you want
kind of chick, but she’s absolutely lost her shit over this movie.

“
The House?”
she’s raving, holding up her phone and waving it. “It’s called
The House?”

“It’s a movie title, Lor, not a death sentence.”

I’ve met her at a little café just a few miles away from set. I mistakenly assumed that, if we were in public, it’d spare me some of her barbs, but she’s got other ideas completely.

“It’s the title. It’s set in stone? Not just a working title anymore? Jesus Christ, you’d think they’d at least
hint
at what you do.
The Fuck Pad
. That sounds better. Let’s go with that.”

I shake a Raw Sugar packet, rip it, and dump it into my coffee to distract her a little. I don’t have to be here. I don’t even really know why I am. I just figured, in all of my intelligent glory, that it would help her if I kept tabs every so often. I’m only making things worse, apparently.

“This isn’t about my porn career. It’s a movie.”

“I know what the hell it is, Brett. I’m not an idiot.”

No, you’re just overbearing.

“I’m sorry this offends you so much.”

Lori rubs her temple, like I’m giving her the worst headache she’s had in her life, eyes closing to seal the deal. “It’s not… I’m not
offended
. It’s offensive to my sensibilities, yes, but I’m a bigger person than that. I’m
irritated
that you don’t have a timeline, you aren’t allowed to shoot scenes with me, and that there are companies pounding on my door every day asking when Brett Buckhurst is going to be available again. News stations are blowing up my phone begging to know if you’re quitting porn or not, and frankly, I don’t know what to tell them, because even
I
don’t know anymore.”

I don’t answer her. I let her lose steam as I take a small sip of coffee. But the outrage seems to calm her down, and she sinks back into her seat, defeated and deflated.

“You’re the best I’ve ever seen,” she says finally. “I can’t afford not to have you anymore.”

I’m quiet for a few moments, nodding along. I need compliance for just a few more weeks. I need things to be
easy
. She’s my agent. It’s my management company. It’s not like I can shake them off so easily, as much as I’m trying to. I’ve been pouring over my contract, looking for a loophole and a way out.

“Why don’t you come to set?” I regret the question the moment I’ve uttered it.

“What?”

“Yeah. Just come to set with me today. You’ll see that it’s not some… frenetic attempt to send my career into the shitter. And you’ll see that they aren’t dragging their heels. It goes fast.”

Lori sits back in her chair, her lips pulled together as she glances to the side. She’s pretending to consider it, keep me on the line, but I already know her answer before she gives it.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to see what you’ve been put through.”

“There you go.” I take another swallow of coffee and lift my hand for the check as Lori tugs the company credit card from her purse.

Rob and I beat everyone to set. Craft services arrives shortly after we do and begins setting up. Rob retreats to the office of the home and starts to study it, planning out his plan of attack for the day.

I’m left twiddling my thumbs.

I hate feeling useless, but no one else is scheduled to arrive for another half an hour and Rob doesn’t like to be bothered when he’s fully concentrating. I head to the tents set up in the back and the empty chairs and tables that will be filled and bustling in an hour’s time.

It also gives me a view of the trailers. There are three: Brett’s, Melanie’s, and one to store the costumes, hair products, and makeup. I ease onto the steps of the third and drag out my phone to bide my time with Candy Crush.

I run out of moves just as a car drives up, a Bentley that catches my eye. I don’t remember any crew members driving a Bentley. Most of these people probably wouldn’t even know what a Bentley was if its gasket blew up in their faces. I start to rise to see what the occupant wants, but stop when the passenger side door opens.

Brett steps out. He’s carrying a hoodie over his arm and he glances over at the driver as she steps out.

And
she
is
all
she.

She looks to be 5’11”, blond hair that’s clearly been bleached to hell and reaches the small of her back. She’s older than Brett, maybe forty, but she’s gone to great lengths to hide it. Obvious boob job, even more obvious lip injections. Her nails are veritable claws and French manicured to perfection. She looks more like a blowup doll than a woman.

So this is the kind of girl Brett likes.

It makes sense, given his profession. I’m almost disappointed in him. It isn’t that I’ve gotten to know his innermost thoughts and dreams, but I’ve assumed up until now that he’s still somehow better than a stereotype. But this is so stereotypical.

I remind myself harshly that she’s still a woman, no matter how medically conceived she is, and not a caricature. If she wants to look like that, she has every right in the world to.

Still, there’s a slight pull in the pit of my stomach. I convince myself that it’s disappointment rather than jealousy, but it doesn’t help quell the feeling at all.

Brett closes the car door behind him and squints around the set to see who’s here and if it’s safe for him to make a clean break for his trailer. What he intends to do there I can only guess. He sees me, however, and his face lights up. He lifts his hand in a wave, and I wave back at him.

Shit. He’s coming over here
.

He approaches, the woman not far behind on stilettos that I’m not sure support the full weight of her implants. “Hey, Kylie. I want you to meet someone.”

I rise to be polite, but truth be told, I’m intimidated. I’d much rather stay where I am and sink under the steps of the trailer. “Hey,” I say back, my eyes darting to the woman.

Brett makes a motion between the two of us, first at the woman and then at me, and back again. “Lori, this is Kylie, the set’s PA. Kylie, this is my agent Lori.”

Agent. Oh, holy shit
.

I immediately feel terrible for judging her, but it makes so much more sense now. I extend my hand and it’s almost a grateful gesture. She takes my hand as though she’s doing me a favor.

“That’s charming. A PA?” she repeats.

“Yeah.” I give her hand a single shake then pull mine back. She smells like these flowers that used to bloom on a tree in my back yard when I was a kid.

“So you… what. You get coffee? Fluff up the actors?”

“Uh…” It’s not exactly untrue. My job on this set is anything but glamorous. I know it, Rob knows it, Brett knows it, and apparently Lori knows it, too. It’s a thankless job, and I’ve always known it was less than I deserved, but it’s one hell of an opportunity and I am not going to throw it away.

My mind is going a mile a minute, trying to think of how to respond to her, when Brett breaks in for me. “She’s really useful, Lor. Retract the claws.”