Never Tied Down (The Never Duet #2)



It was dark when I left the studio that night. Scenes ran long, although thankfully I wasn’t the only one holding up production, and the weight of the director’s disdain landed on someone else not long after I’d tried to shrug it off. It had been a long day, full of mistakes and mishaps, having to reshoot scenes for idiotic reasons, and trying not to let aggravation seep into my performance. Sometimes I found myself thinking about how modeling was so much easier than acting. Modeling, although it came with its difficulties as well, sometimes was just as easy as standing in a certain pose and staring at the camera. Acting, especially on film, was a whole different animal and it came with an impressive list of difficulties, hurdles, and a steep learning curve.

I pulled my coat closed around me again, the chill in the air quite a bit more biting now that the sun had set. I thought that the next day I should wear a cap, or a scarf. I knew it wouldn’t get too cold in LA—snow wasn’t even on my radar—but the early mornings and late evenings warranted warmer clothing.

I made it to my truck, climbed in, and started the engine, blasting the heater. The windows fogged a little, showing the age of my truck, so I sat and leaned my head against the back of the cab.

Kalli was here. In LA. Working on the same studio lot as me.

Most of me wanted to be really happy about the news I’d learned, but the majority found a way to be crushed instead. My mind thought back to the coffee shop that afternoon, remembered what I’d seen of her, just the golden trail of her long blonde hair falling down her back against the denim jacket she was wearing. I’d seen, poking out from under the table, a little brown high-heeled boot on her foot, and that image alone sparked hundreds I had stored inside my brain. Memories I’d only allowed myself to ponder in deep moments of complete masochism.

I remembered her blue eyes staring down at me, her hair making a veil around us as she hovered, both of us naked, me inside of her, watching as she moved. The pink of her lips matching the exact shade of her cheeks, her creamy skin with a hint of the flush caused by her arousal.

My eyes drifted closed as I remembered the way she felt wrapped around me, how her heat enveloped me, spurred me on, and made me lose control on more than one occasion. Sex with Kalli was addictive and she was so receptive to being taken, it was difficult to be around her and not simply want to take.

My dick grew hard as I sat in the parking lot of my job, and the realization that I was hitting a new low washed over me. I wanted her so badly, but it seemed I was the last thing she was interested in. My hands gripped the steering wheel and I watched my knuckles turn white. How stupid could I have been? She’d pushed me away months ago and I was still hanging on to hope that her rejection was only temporary. Fuck me. I swiped my hands down my face roughly, threw the truck in reverse, and hauled ass out of that parking lot. I aimed my truck at the bar down the street from my apartment, planning to walk home when I was good and drunk.





Chapter Six


Be Invisible


Kalli

I’d developed a routine since arriving in LA. I went to work and stayed on set when possible, ignoring my desire to explore the studio lot. I was afraid if I wandered, I’d wander right into Riot. Therefore, in an effort to avoid such an instance, I stayed on set or at the Coffee Bean right next to my soundstage.

I knew it was ridiculous. I knew eventually I’d run into him and things would be awkward. But I was willing to postpone the painful experience as long as possible. So I kept to my private studio, the set, and the Coffee Bean. When the day was finished I hauled it back to the studio apartment I’d rented.

November had brought some unusual rain to LA, so I was run-walking all the way into the coffee shop and didn’t stop at the register to order. Instead, I headed directly to my table, which was usually empty because people on a studio lot in LA weren’t there to sit and have a relaxing cup of coffee. People ordered to go and left with as much haste as they came in with.

I dropped my bag on the chair and shook out my coat, and only when I lifted my eyes to the tabletop did I see the piece of paper folded up and lying flat atop it. The paper had my name scrawled across it and I knew it was his handwriting.