by Nikki Rayne
He scoffed, but I didn’t miss the flicker of hurt in his eyes. “You don’t know shit about me, Nanny McPhee.”
I could sense the irritation and annoyance bubbling beneath his surface. I’d obviously hit a nerve, but if this man thought he could intimidate me or treat me like I was a pushover, he was mistaken. I didn’t take crap from anyone, and I always got the job done no matter what it took, even if it meant acting like a grade-a bitch.
“I know more than I need to know.” I glanced at Noah. “I guarantee Brock will be on time every morning, and unless it’s a late-night shoot, he’ll be in bed by midnight. If he’s needed for an early morning shoot, he’ll be in bed at ten.”
Noah gave a somber nod. “That’s why I hired you.”
I turned my attention back to Brock. “Our flight to Heathrow leaves at nine this evening. That’ll get us to London at about six-thirty GMT tomorrow morning. Then we’ll fly straight to Dublin.” I made a show of glancing at my watch. “You have roughly six hours to pack. We’ll go over your lines during the flight. That way, you’ll be prepared for tomorrow. My car is waiting for us outside. Oh, and please shower.”
He glared at me before storming out of the office.
“I don’t think it’s going to be easy,” Noah said, sounding resigned.
I shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You hired me to do a job. He’ll show up on time, and he won’t touch a drop of alcohol until this movie wraps. I can guarantee you that.”
Noah opened his mouth as if to say something but then closed it.
“Is there something you need to say?”
He blew out a long, loud breath. “Brock will do everything he can to sweet talk you into doing whatever he wants. He’ll try to get you into bed. Be careful, Alex, he’ll see you as something he has to conquer. He’s a narcissistic control freak and always needs to be in charge.”
I waited for a few seconds before replying. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I think after all these years, you know me better than that. Talk about insulting.”
Noah held his hands up in apology. “I’m not trying to insult you. I’m trying to warn you.”
I smiled. “I’ve worked with men a lot more charming than Brock Adams. He can drop to his knees, promise me all of his riches and undying love, but his Oscar-winning ways won’t sway me one way or another.”
“If anyone can manage Brock, you can.” He didn’t look or sound wholly convinced. If anything, Noah looked exhausted and drained.
“Are you sure that’s what you think?”
“I’m sure. I’m sorry for sounding so pessimistic. I’m living on no sleep while trying to manage Brock’s latest shit storm as well as everything else. Ford Linder is having some issues, but that’s a problem for another day.”
I wasn’t sure if my old friend thought I could do my job without falling under Brock’s spell. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I could either. The professional thing to do would be to quit or put someone else on the job, but part of me wanted to prove to myself and Noah that I was immune to Brock’s charms.
I wouldn’t sleep with him.
I wouldn’t fall for him.
I wouldn’t.
I couldn’t.
Chapter 3 - Brock
Two Weeks Later
Head-splitting hammering against my bedroom door and someone screeching my name woke me from a dreamless sleep. I groaned, rolled over, and glanced at the time on my phone. It was three-thirty in the goddamn morning.
“What the fuck?” I threw a pillow towards the door. “Get lost.” The hammering didn’t stop. I threw another pillow and another.
“Mr. Adams,” called the voice I’d grown to detest. “If I have to, I will go down to reception, get security, and have them open the door.”
For two miserable weeks, Alex, the babysitter, hadn’t let up, and there were no signs of her softening. Her job was to make sure I did mine. And it was something she excelled at. From insisting that the mini bar in my room was empty, to waking me up early every morning, to having the phone in my room disconnected, Alex made sure my life was all about filming…and nothing else.
I was surprised that she left the T.V. installed in my suite. When I made a crack about it, she promised to take it out if I didn’t keep on top of my lines.
All in all, Alex made offset life pretty infuriating. I wasn’t used to having someone in charge and was bristling at the constant challenge to my independence.
Basically, Alex’s job was to torture me. Physically, I wanted her in a bad, bad way. I’d jerked off every night to thoughts of pinning her to the bed and stopping that bossy mouth with my lips. I wanted to tie her up and pump my cock into her pussy so hard she screamed my name with desire—not in the spite she usually spit it out with.
Her curves were so delicious, it made me nuts. It got to the point where I wanted to plug my ears against her harsh voice but keep my eyes on her swaying hips and bouncing bust. She just looked too good to resist.
Mentally, she drove me up the fucking wall.
Twenty-four-seven, Alex was on the job. She rarely smiled and was always watching, observing, studying. I’d never met a more-in-control woman in my life, but sometimes I saw desire peeking out from behind her façade, sometimes I saw a want so desperate, my heart broke. One of these days, she would lose control, and when she did, I would be right there to scoop her into my arms and into my bed.
“Get up, Mr. Adams.”
Wearing only my boxers, I rolled out of bed and padded towards the door. I didn’t give a crap if wearing next to nothing was inappropriate or unprofessional. If my handler didn’t like what she saw, tough. She could slap me with a harassment charge.
When I yanked the door open, Ms. Prissy Pants stood with her arms crossed and an angry slash where her lips should be.
As usual, she wore her blonde hair in a severe pony, and as usual, a flash of yanking it out and having those blonde locks cascade through my finger flashed through my mind’s eye.
I blinked the image away then blinked at her. “It’s three-thirty in the goddamn morning.”
Her eyes traveled down my body and back up again. Not once over the past two weeks had she shown anything but disdain when we spoke, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t disguise the initial flare of temptation whenever she saw me.
“And you’re due on set at five. Rise and shine. Jump in the shower now, and if we have time, we’ll grab breakfast on the way out.”
I yawned and scrubbed my hands over my face. “I’ll get breakfast at the catering truck, thanks all the same, and I’ll shower when we get to my R.V.”
Alex shrugged. “Fine. Either way, we’re leaving here in thirty minutes. I’ll meet you down in reception.”
Her eyes traveled across my chest. Two punishing hours in the gym seven days a week preparing for this movie, even when I was in Bangkok, meant there wasn’t an ounce of fat on my body. I had muscles on top of muscles. The deep flush in her cheeks showed the wicked thoughts racing through her head. Now would be a perfect time to drag her into my room and throw her onto the mattress.
I leaned against the doorjamb and grinned. “Like what you see?”
Alex quickly blinked and moved her eyes to my face. “Not particularly. I prefer men with a little more heft…more power.” She raised an eyebrow. Was that a challenge I heard in her voice? A hint at what she liked between the sheets? “I’ll see you downstairs, Mr. Adams.”
I watched her stride down the hallway, that curvy rear swaying with every step. Who cared if she didn’t like my personality? I didn’t need Alex to like me. I only needed her to want me enough to ride my dick.
***
Like the perfect Boy Scout, I made it down to reception on time. Alex was standing by a crackling fire with her nose stuck in the planner that documented every second of her day and mine.
When she spotted me coming her way, shock flickered over her face. “Bravo. You’re actually on time. I thought I’d have to go back up there and drag your ba
ckside out of bed.”
I smirked. “I’d like to see you drag my backside anywhere.”
Stepping closer, I invaded her personal space. This time she was careful not to show her emotions. Still, the hard swallow and the shake of her hand promised me that before we moved on to Switzerland next week, Alex would be the one doing whatever I said and not the other way around.
She cleared her throat and studied her planner. “The car is outside. It’ll take thirty minutes to get to the location. Once there, you’ll grab breakfast. After that, you’ll have fifteen minutes before wardrobe. The first scene is in Temple Bar, followed by a chase scene across the Ha’penny Bridge and up along the river towards O’Connell Street. Would you like to run through your lines in the car? I’ll play Ford’s part.”
I threw my head back and howled with laughter. This lady was something else, and that made her even sexier. “I’ve got my lines covered, Sergeant Major.”
“Are you sure? Yesterday, you stumbled a few times.”
“I’m sure.” With my tongue firmly in my cheek, I said, “There’s a love scene tomorrow. Want to run through those lines? Or we could go through the choreography.”
The scornful glance she threw my way could have killed a weaker man. “No.” Alex snapped her planner closed and marched towards the exit.
That made me laugh again. I loved watching her stomp away.
There were several things I wanted to run through with her, and my lines weren’t one of them.
Chapter 4 - Alex
For eighteen hours, I watched Brock work. Most of the day, rain teemed down from cement colored clouds, and not once had he complained or griped.
The movie was a race against time story centering on two ex-cons investigating a plot to infect the world with a deadly virus. There was also a romantic subplot. Jemma Winters played the love interest. The sun-kissed Australian viewed me as her enemy while I viewed her as an annoying, jumped up madam. The casting couch could tell a story or two about her career path.
Brock had been on the move for hours on end. Only once had a stunt double taken over because there was a risk of decapitation. The director, Anton Forrester, didn’t believe in using a green screen for stunts or anything else. No matter the risks, he wanted everything live-action.
I would give credit where credit was due, all day long, Brock had busted his ass, knew his lines, and he did everything Anton had asked of him without objection. Ford Linder, on the other hand, acted like a diva and continuously complained that Brock’s character was better written. I could see why he and Brock clashed the way they did.
From the day we’d landed in Dublin, Brock’s professionalism toward everyone he came into contact with was inspiring. The only person he was unprofessional with was me, who he flirted with nonstop.
Not once since filming began, had he drank a drop of alcohol or skipped out to go partying. Still, his angelic behavior wouldn’t lull me into a false sense of security. His twenty-four-hour drinking binges were legendary, and there were persistent rumors about threesomes, foursomes, and sometimes fivesomes.
Brock spelled trouble with a capital T, but that didn’t stop my heart lurching every time I was on the receiving end of his devastating smile. I’d never salivated over a client before, and I didn’t like feeling out of control. Not one little bit.
As the hours and minutes passed, resisting him became more and more like quicksand—the more I fought and struggled, the deeper I sank.
Thoughts about the movie star consumed me. I dreamed and fantasized about him. Every morning, I reminded my reflection that my job was to keep him on the straight and narrow. Jumping into bed with my boss wasn’t how to achieve that.
We still had almost two and a half months left, and I wasn’t sure how I would reach the end without surrendering.
I couldn’t risk giving Brock my heart or my body. Life had shown me that love meant pain, and relying on others always brought bitter disappointment in its wake. Plus, I didn’t want to face the inevitable rejection that would come with getting involved with a movie star.
When filming finished for the day, Brock retired to his R.V., and I followed. We’d had a few requests for interviews from local T.V. stations. The PR would be good for him. I rapped my knuckles against the door but didn’t bother to wait for an answer before letting myself in.
My breath caught at the sight that greeted me. He’d stripped off, and right in front of my face was Brock’s taut arse. God, he was glorious, and I didn’t know whether to grab on with two hands or run screaming.
My hand flew to my mouth, and my cheeks heated to nuclear levels. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in like that. I’ll wait in the car.”
He glanced over his shoulder before turning around to face me. He didn’t try to cover his nakedness. “Don’t leave on my behalf.” The laughter in his voice further embarrassed me. “You’ve seen a naked man before, haven’t you?”
Unable to continue looking at him, I lifted my eyes to the ceiling. “Please meet me at the car.”
He chuckled in a way that made it sound like my discomfort brought him tremendous joy. “I want you to stay. I have a hankering for some booze. I need my babysitter to make sure I stay on the straight and narrow.”
Firming my lips, I lowered my head and glared in his direction. I didn’t care that he was buck naked.
I wouldn’t look down.
I wouldn’t look down.
My eyes flickered down to his crotch. Oh my. An impressive cock hung between his legs, even soft he was huge.
My thighs clenched, and a tremor ran up my spine. I would very much like for Brock to rip off my clothes and take me up against the R.V. wall. And I would very much like for him to kiss me breathless.
What would it feel like to have him disappear into my depths? To have him take me any way he wanted? To have him pin my body down and take full control?
“My face is up here, Alex.”
I choked back a cough and lifted my eyes to his. “Please put on some clothes, Mr. Adams. This is highly unprofessional.”
He shrugged, grabbed a towel from a nearby chair, and wrapped it around his waist. “What’s the problem? You still don’t like what you see?”
The problem was I more than liked what I saw. “As I already said, I’ll meet you at the car.”
Before I could leave the R.V., he grabbed my hand, and it was a miracle all the bones in my body didn’t melt. I could’ve snatched my hand away and stormed out, but I didn’t want to.
Desire glowed in his beautiful, brown eyes, rendering me helpless. “I more than like what I see when I look at you, Alex—no more sidestepping the truth. I want you. I want to lick your pussy and suck your clit. I want to drive deep inside you and feel you come on my dick.”
All the moisture evaporated from my body, and I swallowed hard. “Mr. Adams, I—”
“—I love it when you call me Brock, but it drives me crazy when you call me Mr. Adams. That’s when I know you’re mad and when I’ve hit a nerve. When I fuck you, and I will, will you scream Mr. Adams or Brock?” He closed the distance between us.
My lips parted, and my breath hitched. “This isn’t going to happen, Mr. Adams. I won’t deny you’re an attractive man, alluring even, but I’m not going to fall into bed with you.”
“Why do we need a bed? I can fuck you right here, right now.”
He was going to kiss me, and I was going to let him.
In a flash of movement, he pressed his lips against mine. Instead of stepping back and smacking him across the face as I should have done, my lips opened, inviting him in, silently asking for more, more, more.
It was heavenly. It was sinful. It was everything.
A moan drifted from my mouth, and the tip of my tongue tapped against his. He cupped his hand around the back of my neck, holding me as if I belonged to him, as if he owned me. I wasn’t a small woman, but I felt petite, almost delicate in Brock’s arms.
His stubble brushed against my chin;
his lips soft but demanding. Need rippled through my veins and came out of my mouth as low, raspy groans.
I couldn’t stand it, and I wouldn’t wait any longer. I wanted him. Reaching up, I curled my hands over Brock’s muscular shoulders.
He dragged me closer still, his sizable erection jutting through the towel. Why had I resisted him? Why had I denied myself this kind of pleasure?
A brisk knock on the door brought me to my senses. I jerked back and pressed my fingertips to my lips. My eyes wide, my body trembling.
I was a bloody idiot. I’d crossed a line I could never uncross.
Brock glanced down at his hard-on, winked, and retreated to the bathroom. I smoothed my hands over my hair, rolled my shoulders back, and opened the door.
It was Jemma Winters. Fantastic.
“Hi there, Alexa.”
“It’s Alex.”
“Whatever.” She peered behind me. “Brock here?” Without waiting for an invite, she stepped her stick-thin, perky self into the R.V., and glanced around. “I need him to go over tomorrow’s lines with me. I had a lot of trouble today. Plus, tomorrow is the love scene. I want to make sure we have the choreography down.” She giggled like a sugar-high ten-year-old. “Practice makes perfect.”
Despite wanting to kick her out and tell her never to come back, I smiled as sweetly as I could. I had no right to be jealous. I had no claim over the movie star, and yet here I was ready to gouge her green eyes out.
“He’s in the bathroom getting dressed,” I informed Jemma. “I doubt he’ll go over any lines with you tonight, though. There’s another early start tomorrow, and it’s already late.”
Jemma changed from Princess Perky to Dagger-throwing Diva. “What are you, his mother?” Her narrowed eyes raked me from head to toe. “Judging by your clothes, you could be. You really shouldn’t shop in the old lady section at T.J. Maxx. Mom jeans are so last year.”
She picked the wrong person to bitch at. “Sweetie, I take it the reason you want to run through your lines is that you want Brock’s cock in your mouth.”
She pressed a hand against her chest and did her best to act affronted. “Why I—”