Already Famous

by Heather Leigh

  “Hi, nice to meet you,” I say as we try to rush past the growing horde of Andrew Forrester fans and gawkers.

  “Can I get a picture with you?” the annoying New York smoker asks.

  “Sorry, like she said, we’re late,” I tell her, my hurried steps not slowing down.

  “Come on! Just one picture! My niece will never believe this!”

  Fucking A, this woman is irritating!

  I see the camera phones out and pointed at me. She’s the one hassling me and I get to be the asshole caught on video. Well tough shit. It’s too bad for her that I don’t give a fuck what they say about me in the tabloids.

  Good thing I have Jane. We have a routine for when fans get too pushy. Jane plays bad cop and I play the cop who doesn’t give a shit.

  “Listen lady, we told you several times. We. Are. Late. For. Our. Flight. So, if you’ll excuse us, you will not be getting a picture, an autograph, or anything else today. Have a nice day.” Jane says all of this with a polite smile on her face and the woman’s determined expression is replaced by one of anger.

  Of course she’s an angry one and not an embarrassed one. I have yet to meet a New Yorker that gets embarrassed over anything. Well, except for Sydney, but she seems to be the exception to everything. Fuck if I know, she might not even be from New York.

  The throng of bystanders follows us all the way to the club lounge where they thankfully, aren’t allowed.

  “Well, she sure was an aggressive one,” Jane says in disgust as the heavy club door closes behind us.

  “Yeah, once again it’s a wonderful fuckin’ day at the airport.”

  “Drew! Stop swearing so much!”

  Shit, I always forget that she hates it when I curse, which I do in almost every sentence I speak.

  “Sorry!”

  Only Jane could get away with scolding me like that. And Sydney. I mean fuck, Sydney went toe to toe with me yesterday over Adam fucking Reynolds! I’ve never let a woman get the best of me like that, except maybe my mom.

  “Let’s go sit,” Jane says, patting my arm.

  “Great.” I’ve never been so unhappy to be going to work as I am right now.

  CHAPTER 21

  “Forrester, we need you on the set!” Chad’s voice crackles through the overhead system.

  Crap, I was spacing out. Thinking about Sydney… again. I hustle from my dressing room to the soundstage. I’ve been hiding out ever since we started filming. Apparently, my reputation of hooking up on set has preceded me and the women on the crew have been relentless in trying to get my attention. I can’t walk ten feet without a PA or a sound technician jumping in front of me and flirting. I’ve pretty much been a dick about it too, but all I can think about is Sydney and it’s making me irritable.

  I enter the massive soundstage and sigh at the bare green walls and floor and the partial helicopter constructed in the center.

  My co-star, Zane McNamara, and I have been filming chroma key scenes for the last three days. It’s brutal, mind-numbing work, pretending to see things and react to events that aren’t there, but we can’t actually film an anti-Communist movie in Red Square or fly over Moscow, so this is what we have to do. I despise it, and being away from Sydney is making this the most difficult shoot I’ve ever done.

  At least my character is under a lot of stress, because that I can manage to portray.

  “Zane.” I nod at the bulky blonde man who will play another CIA operative with me.

  “Andrew,” he says seriously. Zane is the guy who stays in character all the time. It works for him, but it drives me up the fucking wall. At least he uses his real name on set. Those assholes who insist on being called by their character’s name throughout a shoot really get under my skin.

  Luckily, the rest of the day goes well and we’re done by 7pm for the first time all week. I rush back to the Sunset Marquis so I can Skype Sydney and show her the plane ticket I have for tomorrow. I can’t wait to see her face. She cut off my Skype sessions when I kept apologizing for the no-condom bathtub sex and I only just got her to agree to Skype me tonight after I promised not to discuss it anymore.

  I rush through the tropical grounds and past the pool at the Marquis to my suite in the Presidential Villa. It’s the same one I stay in every time I’m in California. I would just rent it permanently, but the thought of putting down any kind of roots in this city makes me nauseous.

  I drop into the desk chair and open the app on my laptop. Skype rings a few times before it clicks on. Sydney’s gorgeous face lights up my computer.

  “Hey beautiful, I miss you,” I tell her, leaning towards the screen as if she’s actually right in front of me.

  “I miss you too,” she whispers in a soft voice.

  Then I see it. She looks terrible. Her eyes are rimmed with red and there are dark circles under them. Her lips are trembling ever so slightly, as if she’s overcome with anxiety. She looks thin, way too thin. How the fuck could she have lost so much weight in one week?

  My protective instinct takes over and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Sydney? What’s wrong? Why are you so thin? Are you okay? Do I need to send over a doctor?”

  She lowers her eyes for a moment, then looks back up. “Nothing’s wrong, Drew. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

  Jesus Christ! I ball up my fists under the table where she can’t see them. I wrestle with my desire to scream at the fucking computer until she tells me what the hell is going on. I am so sick and tired of being kept at arm’s length while she falls to pieces.

  I exhale deeply before speaking, afraid my anger will overtake me. “One day, Sydney, you’ll let me in so I can protect you from whatever it is that haunts you. Between the shit you’re going through personally, the extra workload, and that ass Adam Reynolds trying to steal you from me… I should have just cancelled this project and stayed with you!”

  I drag my hands through my hair in frustration. If she would just fucking trust me!

  “I know, I’m sorry. And Adam Reynolds isn’t trying to steal me, Drew.” The way she brushes off my concern over that prick makes my blood boil. “Oh! I forgot, I have news.”

  Sydney’s face lights up with whatever news she has for me. Me? I’m wary of whatever she thinks is so great. Her last bit of news was when she told me she’s going to a party with that douchbag Reynolds.

  She smiles brightly. “Not pregnant.”

  God, she looks so relieved. Me, I’m ridiculously disappointed. I had been fantasizing about Sydney and me raising a little mini-Sydney in my brownstone. Stupid, I know.

  “That’s great, Syd. Really great. The timing would have been awful.”

  She makes a weird face but it’s gone before I can decipher it. “I know,” she says. “It’s a relief to have a little less to worry about.”

  Thank fuck for that. This girl is under more stress than anyone I’ve ever met, and I’ve met two sitting presidents.

  “If you’re less stressed, then it’s great, Sydney. So, I also have news.” I can’t wait to see her reaction. I pick up my phone and pull up the confirmation number for my flight tomorrow and hold it up to the camera.

  “You’re coming home tomorrow?” she screams.

  I grin, a real one. Watching her face, flushed with excitement, is worth all the shit we’ve been through this week.

  “Yep. I got Chad to rearrange a few things with the schedule so I can see my girl!”

  “I cannot wait to have you here, should I get you from the airport? I can use the hotel car service.”

  Sydney? Seeing me at the airport? With a pack of fans following me outside? Over my dead body!

  “No!” I shout, cringing when I see her face fall. Shit, asshole. “I don’t want you to have to go all the way to JFK, I have Bruce to drive me. I’ll swing by my place to grab a few things then can I stay with you?”

  “Of course I want you to stay with me, just call me when you land. You get in at 7pm, right?”

  “Yes, and since I
won’t be bringing any luggage I can just go straight from the plane to the car. So I’ll probably be over around 8 or 8:30, sound good?”

  “Sounds amazing!”

  CHAPTER 22

  Thank God I didn’t let Sydney come to the airport. It’s a nightmare, especially without Jane. I’m going to have to start bringing my own bodyguards with me. The media is just so much more aggressive than they used to be.

  “Move!” The airport security guard yells at the paparazzi that swarm around me like flies to a carcass.

  I’m thankful for his willingness to help me, but he’s not very effective. A horde of men with massive cameras who are trying to play twenty questions with me as they push and shove each other, aren’t receptive to listening to random security guards.

  “Andrew! How’s filming going!”

  “Any ladies Andrew? Or are you still single?”

  “What’s it like working with Zane McNamara?”

  “We heard you were just in the Caribbean, is that true?”

  “Who were you with on vacation, Andrew?”

  Jesus Christ! How do they find this shit out?

  I spot Bruce at the curb, holding open the back door to the Town Car and jump in. He took an earlier flight while I finished my scenes so he could get the car and meet me here.

  “Hey Bruce.” I jump in and he pulls away from the shouting paparazzi.

  I fish out my cellphone and shoot Sydney a quick text.

  Me

  I’m about to make a call when my phone beeps back.

  Sydney

  I grin like an idiot. Then I remember the call I need to make and scowl as I pull up the contact and push send.

  “Drew! What’s up?” Rhys, my PR director, says.

  “Rhys, you know I don’t pay attention to any of that bullshit in the tabloids.” I cut right to the chase.

  “Yes,” he replies hesitantly, guessing correctly that he’s not going to like this conversation.

  “Has there been anything about my St. Bart’s vacation anywhere?”

  Silence.

  If that’s not a yes then I don’t know what is.

  “How did they find out?” I growl, pissed that there might be a picture of Sydney out there.

  “I have no idea. Someone saw you on St. Bart’s or someone at the airport leaked your flight plan.”

  “Did they call for a comment?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck, Rhys! Stop with the short answers and give me the fucking story!” I snap.

  “Alright. The day after you returned I got a call from a tabloid wanting to know if you had been on vacation on St. Bart’s. There were no other specifics and the article I saw had no photos with it. It was just a bunch of speculation as to where you stayed and what you did. No first-hand accounts.”

  “No photos?” I ask in disbelief.

  “None.”

  “Thank God,” I murmur more to myself than to Rhys.

  “Is there a reason you care about this specific article?” Damn. Rhys knows me too well.

  “No,” I lie. “Just curious.”

  “Okay, well if you need anything else just call. Don’t forget that the premiere for A Soldier’s Burden has been scheduled for March 24th in L.A.”

  “Got it. Talk to you later.”

  I lean back on the leather seat and rub my face with my hands. How am I going to explain another trip to L.A. to Sydney? Or better yet, how can I get her to get over her shit and go with me?

  A laugh tears from my throat. Dozens of women have hounded me to take them to an event. Reporters question me about my solo appearance on each and every red carpet I walk. I’ve been dubbed the ‘Ultimate Bachelor’ multiple times and I’ve never wanted any of the shit that comes with dating someone publically.

  I finally find a woman I want to bring with me to a premiere, to show off to everyone, to claim as mine, and she would rather jump off of a cliff than go with me.

  Fuckin’ irony.

  Thirty minutes later and Sydney’s front door flies open, her beautiful, but too skinny face smiling at me like she hasn’t seen me in months. God, she’s so gorgeous it hurts.

  I step into her loft and throw down my bag, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her firmly against me. “I missed you,” I murmur into her hair as she clutches me back just as tight. The iron band that had been wrapped around my chest for the last week and a half has finally been loosened and I can breathe again.

  “Me too,” she says, tipping her head up to see my face.

  Having her pressed into me sends a welcome rush of pleasure through my body, flooding my mind with every lustful thought I’ve had over the last ten days. Uninhibited, I lower my mouth to hers and greedily capture her soft lips, sliding my tongue along the seam until she opens to me. When she does, it’s as if a tiny spark within her ignites into a roaring blaze of passion. She fists my hair and moans, fitting her lithe body around mine sensually.

  I reach around and lift her by her ass, positioning her right over my hard cock as she winds her legs around my waist and locks her ankles behind me. Our mouths stay connected as I carry her into the dark bedroom and deposit her on one of the chairs by the windows.

  “Why are you stopping?” she complains as I pull away from her grasp.

  “Because I need to be inside you, now,” I rasp, beginning to shed my clothes as quickly as I can. “Strip.”

  I see her eyes widen a fraction, then darken with desire as my words sink in. Sydney gets up and stands in front of me as she begins hurriedly removing her clothes.

  By the time we’re both naked, my control is hanging by a thread, ready to snap at any second. I have to rein myself in, or this will be over before we’ve begun. I grab Sydney and push her against the wall of windows that spans the back of her room.

  “Drew,” she moans, her eyelids half closed, heavy with desire.

  “Are you ready for me?” I ask, sliding a hand down between her legs and skimming a finger along her needy slit. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

  “Take me Drew,” she pants as she runs her hands down my chest and curls one around my throbbing cock.

  “God Syd, I missed you so much.” I rip open a condom and quickly roll it down my length.

  Eyes roaming up and down her naked body, I step forward, pressing her against the windows and lift one of her legs, hooking it around my waist. Not wasting a single second, I position myself at her damp entrance and stare into her eyes as I roughly push into her tight heat.

  “Jesus,” I whisper as her wet depths surround me and pull me in. Sydney lets out a soft sound that’s half-sigh half-moan, her warm breath tickling my ear.

  I scrabble to grab behind her other knee, desperately needing to be closer to her. Finally finding where I’m reaching for, I yank on it and lift her up, pressing her harder against the window as she clings to me. Sydney licks her lips and closes her eyes, waiting for me, her breath held in anticipation.

  When I start to move, the outside world ceases to exist. Sydney’s eyes fly open and meet mine, our gazes are locked together as I thrust up into her, hard. Each snap of my hips shoves her further and further up the glass, her skin squeaking against the window, drawing a low moan from the back of her throat.

  Unable to go slow, our pace is frenzied, the pleasure building quickly from the intensity and from our time apart.

  Bending my mouth to her ear, I speak to her, each word falling from my lips in rhythm with the movement of my hips. “I. Missed. You. So. Fucking. Much. You’re mine Sydney. Only mine.”

  She closes her eyes and lets the sensation take over. Her swollen lips part and her pink tongue darts out to lick them again, driving me crazy, making me want to devour her mouth.

  “Say it!” I demand. Her eyes fly open and lock with mine again. “Tell me you’re mine.”

  “I’m yours Drew.”

  “Fuck yes you are. No one else Sydney.”

  I crush my lips t
o hers and savor the taste of her sweet mouth. I can feel the tightening of her pussy around my cock and know that she’s close. Shoving my hand between us, I circle my thumb over her clit and she comes apart, screaming and convulsing as she shatters.

  “That’s right baby, come for me,” I grunt as I slam into her a few more times before the overpowering pleasure rushes through my body and gathers at the base of my spine, begging me to release everything I have into her willing pussy.

  I grit my teeth and force myself to pull out, watching Sydney’s eyes widen as she begins to protest the loss. “Turn around,” I growl, lowering her feet to the floor and spinning her quickly so her front is crushed against the glass.

  Sydney slams her palms down on the window one at either side of her head and turns so her cheek is pressed against the glass. “God Drew, yes!” she cries when I forcefully enter her from behind.

  “Jesus, I love fucking you,” I snarl. She whimpers and pushes her ass out, arching her back sinfully in a silent invitation. The temptation to manhandle her proves to be too much for me to ignore, especially when she’s all but asking for it. I reach up and wrap her long hair around one hand and tug so her head bows back until it rests on my chest. Her long, slender neck is exposed, the creamy skin calling like a beacon in the night. I lick and taste and bite at the sinuous flesh, never slowing the furious thrusts up into her tight pussy.

  Sydney begins wailing, a primitive sound that I don’t think she realizes she’s making. Her entire body shudders, and she lets out a stream of incoherent words as she comes around my cock again.

  The sounds, the scent of her arousal, her perfect response to my rough handling prove to be too much for me. The pleasure explodes from my aching balls, shooting up through my spine into an orgasm so strong that I can’t stop thrusting into her, over and over until the blissful sensation subsides.

  When I finally am able to stop, the only sound in the room is our heavy breathing. I release her hair and drop my head onto her shoulder, trailing small kisses back and forth over her sensitive skin, overwhelmed by how much I feel for this amazing girl. Gently, I pick her up and carry her over to the bed and lay her down, climbing in next to her and pulling the covers over us.