“No? Well, okay then,” she says in an overly loud voice, “I’ll take these to get laundered.” She quickly picks up my discarded clothes that I removed in the scene, clutches them to her chest, and strides away, leaving the set through an exit door.
“What the hell was that?” Natasha says in a low voice, coming up beside me.
I pull on the robe, tying the belt. “I don’t know.” I sigh.
“That wasn’t like you, Vaughn.”
I look her in the eye. “I know,” I say.
Something flickers in her eyes.
“Ah, you like her,” she says. “That’s what caused the chubby.”
“Chubby? Jesus, Natasha.”
“What?” She laughs. “I’m a mom now.”
I shake my head.
“So, you like the girl. Go for it. She seems sweet.”
“I can’t.” I sigh, leaning back against the bar that Drew just screwed Lexi on. “I promised Jack and myself that I’d keep my pecker clean while I made this movie.”
Understanding passes over her face.
“Well, no matter what, you owe her an apology.”
“Yeah”—I sigh, looking over at the door Charly just exited out of—“I know.”
Charly
I don’t cry.
It’s not something I ever do.
The one and only time I remember crying was when my grandmother died.
That was twelve years ago. I haven’t shed a tear since.
I think my tear ducts are defunct.
When I do get hurt or upset though, I get angry.
And, right now, I’m seething fucking mad.
What a wanker Vaughn West is!
Yelling at me like that in front of everyone. All I did was accidentally pick up the wrong robe. It was an easy mistake to make. And, honestly, I was just feeling all flustered after watching that scene he did with Natasha, and I wasn’t paying full attention to what I was doing.
And don’t think I didn’t spot the erection he was sporting after the scene. Sure, it must be hard, being a guy and grinding up all over a beautiful woman, but she’s married with a kid, and he got a hard-on over her, which is gross.
But then he did get an erection before I stabbed him in the balls. Maybe he just gets hard when he’s close to a woman. He does like to put out, as the press has recently reported.
Ugh. He’s a pig!
He’s off my Christmas card list—not that he was ever on it.
This morning, after I thought on it, I figured he had probably been off with me in his trailer because he was tense over doing that scene. So, I was going to let it go. But, oh no, super asshole comes out to play after the scene is over.
It’s official. I really, really dislike the hot jerk.
I’m in the main warehouse where we store all the clothes. Ava asked me to put away the shoes from today’s shoot. After I wheeled them over here in a cart, I reach inside and grab a pair of men’s brogues.
Even though I know these shoes are not Vaughn’s, I still slam them onto the rack like they are his. If I can’t take my anger out on him, then the shoes are getting it.
Sorry, shoes.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
I whirl around at the voice, my heart making a break out of my chest.
Vaughn.
“Jesus, you scared me.” I frown at him, pressing my hand to my heart, trying to settle it.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Yeah, well, you did.” I turn away from him and grab another pair of shoes—Jimmy Choos this time. I’m a little more careful with putting these ones back. No way can I abuse a pair of Choos.
“Did you need me to do something?” I add with attitude.
“I want to apologize. For earlier. I was an ass.”
My heart skips. But I don’t let it show. “Yeah, you were. A monumental one.”
“I know.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, as in you forgive me?”
I shrug.
“Jesus. Can you turn and look at me while I talk to you? It’s no fun having a conversation with your back.”
I look at him over my shoulder. “Yeah, well, it’s no fun being yelled at in front of the whole crew.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay then,” I retort.
“Jesus, woman, what do you want? Blood? I said I was sorry. I can’t do any more.”
Anger lancing through me, I spin around to face him. “I don’t want anything from you. You said you were sorry. We’re good.”
“From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like we’re good.”
“What do you want? You want me to do a little happy dance or something?” I do a little dance on the spot, waving my hands around.
He laughs. “You’re fucking crazy.”
I stop dancing and frown. “Maybe because you make me crazy.”
“Right back at you, Pins.”
“Will you stop calling me that?” My hands go to my hips. So do his eyes.
“No,” he says slowly, dragging his gaze back up to mine.
“Fine. Then, I’ll just call you…Boner!”
I see a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. He knows I saw the hard-on he had earlier while filming.
His expression narrows. “You know, you should speak to me with more respect than that.”
“Why? Because you’re a big movie star, and I’m just a wardrobe assistant? Yeah, well, you know what you can do with that notion? I only give respect to people who earn it.”
“Oh, I’ve earned it all right.” His face is tightening with anger.
“You haven’t earned a dime of respect. You’re just an arrogant, jumped-up—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence because he cuts me off.
Well, his arm cuts me off when it reaches out, grabs ahold of me, and yanks me into his body.
Then, his lips are on mine.
Soft and sweet. Nothing like I was expecting but so much better. Pressed there, but he doesn’t make a move to kiss me further.
I pop open an eye. “Um, what are you doing?” I ask, breathless. Because I am breathless.
Vaughn West’s lips are currently on mine. Vaughn West, the movie star. Vaughn West, whom I’ve more than once used as a mental prop when spending alone time with my vibrator.
The fangirl in me is jumping up and down—even if he is an arrogant jerk.
His eyes open and stare into mine. “I’m kissing you. Is that okay?”
“Mmhmm.” I nod lightly, my lips still attached to his. “Totally. I was just checking because—”
“Pins.”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up, and let me kiss you.”
And I do. I let him push me back up against the shoe rack and kiss the hell out of me.
And, God, can the man kiss.
His tongue lightly sweeps over my bottom lip, and then he nips it with his teeth, making me moan.
One hand is cupping the nape of my neck; the other finds its way to the hem of my dress. His fingers brush over my bare skin, making me gasp.
He stills.
There’s a fraction of a beat where he just breathes against me. Then, he dives in again, and all bets are off.
His hand grabs my thigh and lifts. Hooking my leg around his hip, he presses into me.
And he’s hard.
I already saw his size earlier. It’s impressive.
And it’s even better pressed up against me.
I wrap my arms around his neck, crushing my breasts to his chest. My hips start to move against him without my control. It’s instinctual.
I suck on his tongue, and he groans.
“You feel so fucking good, Charly,” he says into my mouth. “Taste so good. Better than I imagined.”