Already Written (Hollywood Exchange #1)

by Xavier Neal

  “It's your fault when all the magazines read Pierce Wyatt is dating a nerd.”

  “A nottie,” he corrects before kissing me sweetly. “My nottie.”

  There's a soft hum out of me as I declare, “Well this nottie still has a book to finish writing, so you have to keep your hands to yourself.”

  Pierce cocks a grin. “I'll try.” His eyebrows wiggle, which makes me roll my eyes. “I've got lines to look over anyway. First dry run with J.J. is in a couple days.”

  “Dry run?”

  “We get together behind the scenes before we ever step foot in front of the camera. We work through some of the kinks that might come up. Plus, it's helped us build the brotherly bond you see on television that actually occurs off as well.”

  “Really?” I turn in my seat towards him. “I mean I've only seen you text him like twice.”

  “I text or talk to J.J. every day.”

  What the hell? I don't even talk to Em that often and we're women!

  I drop my jaw. “Seriously?”

  “Every day. We're family. Hell, I'm closer to him than my actual brother.” Pierce pulls out his vibrating phone from his pocket. “We've spent the last six years growing up together on the show. What do you expect?” He types something on his phone. “I'm even his daughter's Godfather. He'll be meeting us for dinner with Caroline tonight, not sure if Gen, his wife, or Sami their daughter will be coming, but probably not. We'll have to schedule something else with them.”

  Nervousness churns my stomach.

  Just when I thought I couldn't get any more anxious.

  “Scott just asked me if we would be interested in going to a music festival this fall. Depending on where we're filming when it goes on, will depend on if I can go, but if I can, do you wanna come with me?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Good.” Pierce stands up. “Gonna hit the can before we take off.”

  The minute the word is out of his mouth Gunz makes a motion to follow.

  Through gritted teeth he states, “I can take a piss alone, Gunz.”

  Instantly tension between the two is present, causing the car argument we had on the way to my convention to come rushing back at me.

  “Can you? I mean, my cleaning lady is convinced I've been babysitting a newly potty trained three year old for the past few weeks.”

  My joke breaks the barrier of tension causing all three of us to laugh.

  Pierce leans back down towards my face. “We'll make sure my cleaning lady has a different type of mess to clean up.”

  The sexual implication pushes my legs tightly together.

  This is ridiculous. We had sex right before we left for the airport. Twice. We were almost late! There's no reason my thong should be getting this damp so quickly.

  On a cocky chortle, he strolls away, leaving me alone with Gunz for the first time.

  He's not a big talker. In fact, I can honestly say I don't think I've ever heard him say more than a sentence. And even then not all at the same time. Not gonna lie. Part of me thinks he's ex mobster. Sometimes I can't help but think maybe he doesn't talk around me because he hates me. Because I'm not like the other women who have been around Pierce. Because I don't have an exact grasp of how dangerous each situation is capable of escalating to.

  I pop over the edge of the seat into his space. “Hey.”

  His eyes stay planted on the direction Pierce disappeared too.

  “So I get the whole super, scary silent guard thing, but can you at least tell me if you hate me or not?” When he shifts his gaze my direction, I'm startled to see a puzzled look. “I just, I don't want you to hate me. Or find me super annoying or a combination of both. I mean I get it if you do, I'm kind of all over the place, all the time, but-”

  “I like you more than most, Minka.”

  Holy shit! A full sentence!

  Relieved, my shoulders drop. “You think the others will? J.J.? Caroline?”

  He nods and turns his attention back the direction we're expecting Pierce from. “I advise you to remember the Pierce you love, not the one you're about to be seeing more of.”

  His haunting warning pushes me back in my seat.

  Okay...I know celebrities have a persona and then have who they really are, which is slightly to be expected, but why did that warning feel scarier than just a polite basic reminder?

  The flight is surprisingly silent between us. We both plug in headphones and get caught up in the work waiting for us on our computers. By the time we land, I've victoriously finished the first draft of a new novel. Our de-boarding is quicker than expected and before I know it we're on our way to Pierce's house to change for dinner.

  As soon as we pull into the driveway, my eyes assess the home that is probably half the size of his brother's. In an attempt to keep the mood light I sigh, “So everything really is bigger in Texas.”

  Pierce kills the engine and pins me with a sarcastic look. “Unlike my brother I rarely spend time at home. Between the closeness of filming seasons, travel locations, conventions and the occasional visit back home or vacation, this house is more like a glorified hotel suite.”

  “That's so sad.”

  Damn it! Why don't you try to stop me before I just blurt shit out!

  “I mean-”

  “No,” he cuts me off with a deep breath. “It is sad in a way, but J.J. always reminds me home isn't the four walls that protect you from the sun or the rain, it's the people who support you even when you can't support yourself.”

  Hearing the outlook makes me smile.

  “So, since that's the case, I never leave home.” He winks and smiles sweetly. “Now, let's get inside and changed. Caroline hates when I'm late.”

  I grab my computer bag while Pierce grabs my two pieces of luggage.

  What do you mean that's not enough? It's just a vacation, I'm not moving in! No. Do not talk about that right now. Focus on the fact I had to struggle to find enough shit to put in the two pieces I brought! When I write I wear the same hoodie and shorts for the duration of the session, if I wear shorts. Other than that, most of my days, I'm a hermit who has to force herself to leave because I'm constantly writing and because Netflix streams right into my living room. Even then, it's usually just to the movies and that's jeans with a t-shirt. Emerson coached me on what to bring and what not to, yet I still couldn't fill what most women could without effort. Pierce told me to stop over thinking. He promised if I needed anything else he'd buy it. He even offered to send me on a shopping spree for a new dress to wear to his event. Once he threw in a trip to the bookstore to go with it, agreeing to buy books in equal or greater value, I accepted. Dresses come and go, but books...books are my life line.

  Pierce opens the front door exposing an over stuffy environment. Following him down the hall, I try not to stare too judgmentally at the odd artwork on the walls. There are three steps that lower us down into his luxurious, living room. The long dark brown leather couch is in the middle of two matching recliners, all aimed at the fireplace, which has a large T.V. hung on the wall above it. Everything around the area appears perfectly staged as if it's never been touched.

  Not exactly what I had in mind when I thought about taking a tour of my boyfriend's house. I didn't think it would be like taking a tour of an actual museum. Wonder where the 'do not touch' signs are cleverly placed.

  Turning around slowly to continue my observation, I spot the small open kitchen where Pierce has stopped to grab a drink. “Water?”

  I shake my head.

  “I don't keep soda in the house but I can make sure Mary picks up some on her way over in the morning.”

  Curious, I question, “Mary?”

  “Housekeeper. She comes by every day to clean and restock the fridge or house for products.”

  My jaw drops in bafflement. “You don't do your own grocery shopping?”

  He shrugs. “I'm rarely here. On set and on the road Caroline takes the liberty of making sure I have the essentials. We dine out, co
nstantly, with all the traveling, which is one reason you typically see me pick the lighter choices at a restaurant. Have to stay fit and unless I want drug enhancements to help, I have to have some sort of routine.”

  As more waves of realization that I have no idea how he really lives crash over me, I nibble on my bottom lip.

  “Does that bother you?” He twists the cap off. “Do I need to try to go grocery shopping?”

  “No,” I answer with an eye roll. “I don't care if you can't grocery shop-”

  “I can. I'm physically capable.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Pierce smirks. “Saves time and hassle of calling Gunz over, which by the way, now that we're here, you should be aware, he goes everywhere I do outside of this house. No more personal dates with just the two of us.”

  “I remember Vegas. You come with a chaperon.”

  He grunts and takes a swig of the water.

  “Just look what happened the one time you didn't,” I tease, which wipes away the momentary irritation he threatened to fall into.

  “Come on smart ass. Let me show you the rest of the place.”

  He exits the kitchen, passing by the doors that lead to the backyard, grabs my luggage and heads down the hall with me on his heels. Along the walk he tosses his head various directions indicating the three guest rooms, his office, his at home workout area, and the entertainment room. Finally we arrive at his bed room at the opposite end of the house.

  The door swings opens and unveils something that feels just as untouched as everything else in this mausoleum he calls a house. Inside there's a king sized bed with a dark brown leather headboard and two sitting chairs across from it. Beside the bed is a nightstand like expected yet above it is classic framed movie photos. The door to an adjoining bathroom is cracked open while the doors directly across from the bedroom door are closed with the blinds wide open giving me a view of the gorgeous backyard.

  Holy shit! Do you see that pool?

  Pierce drops down onto the edge of his bed. “It's not much, but it gets me by.”

  I give a sarcastic glare. “Not much? Your bedroom literally opens up to a hot tub!”

  He glances over his shoulder. “Yeah. It's actually kinda romantic to sit in it and watch the sunset.” When he turns back around he says, “Which we are going to have to find time to do while you're here.”

  And have sex in it. What! I've never had sex in a hot tub before!

  “I'm gonna rinse off and change,” his announcement gets my already sexually occupied mind reeling. As if sensing my thoughts, he wets his lips slowly. “Wanna join me?”

  I stroll over so his hands can slide up the back of my legs. “What about being late?”

  “Fuck it.” He squeezes my ass. “J.J. will understand.”

  “And Caroline?”

  “Will learn to schedule me at least thirty minutes later for shit when my girlfriend's in town.”

  A giggle escapes and I crawl into his lap, mouth more desperate for him than the meal we're about to consume.

  Maybe pre dinner sex will brush away the nerves of meeting the most important people in his life. If not at least I still got laid.

  In an impressive flash, clothes are flown off and we've relocated to the heat of his shower. The moment Pierce's tongue tastes my neck, his slow, slippery actions, shift as if the reminder of how famished he is has been sparked. Suddenly I'm spun around and planting my hands on the bench for support. Without wasting another second, his cock pierces deep, eliciting a hortatory moan. Pierce's pushes are precise, pointed, yet the speed is leisurely, like the only thing he has to accomplish for the day is me. One of his hands guides around to toy with my clit while the other is on a path, teasing torturously all it's own. When he tugs at my nipple harsher than he has before, my body bows backward on a heated, heavy cry. His movements start to slow while his hands attach to mine. Together in a tandem of touches, tugs, and thrusts the two of us tumble into a fusillade of orgasms.

  Stertorously, Pierce declares, “I'm more than okay with being late, nottie.”

  A sweet giggle slips out seconds before he starts to shower my skin with kisses.

  Maybe my headline will read 'Pierce Wyatt's Late To Award Show Because Sex With Girlfriend Minka Knight Is Too Good To Turn Down.'. It's a little long, but we'll work on it.

  At dinner, I'm seated on one side of the booth with Pierce while J.J. and Caroline are across from us. Gunz as well as J.J.'s body guard are stationed at the bar, neither drinking, but both enjoying a conversation that's making them crack up.

  It's weird to see Gunz laugh. Almost as weird as it was to hear him say a full sentence to me. From what I've been told J.J.'s bodyguard works for Gunz who actually owns a personal security company. His lack of speaking skills makes the fact he runs a successful company all the more impressive.

  “Thank God Caroline's done fan girling,” J.J. jokes, leaning back in his seat. “I was starting to feel like you wanted to kill Minka and wear her skin as your own.”

  “I was not giving off a Silence of the Lambs vibe,” the petite brunette woman fusses. “And need I remind you, your wife is one phone call away-”

  “Whoa. Whoa,” J.J. rushes to say. “No need to bring out the shotgun when I barely fired a pistol.”

  Pierce chuckles at the same time, I lean against his chest. Immediately his hand drops to stroke my arm.

  Love that his affectionate ways haven't stalled or stopped since we've been in town. This may be our first outing, but it's a good sign he's still behaving like this in a different environment.

  “You have no idea how proud and how weird it is to see you like this,” J.J. says giving his flawless lightly tanned face a rub.

  “I could say the same thing about that beard on your face.” Pierce points. “Erick's gonna make you shave that.”

  “I know,” he grumps. “Too bad too. Gen loves it.”

  “She does not,” Caroline snaps. “She just doesn't wanna be the one to tell you you look like homeless surfer.”

  A helpless giggle escapes me and J.J.'s blue eyes glare.

  It's hard to find him even remotely threatening. While Pierce is 6'0, broad, ripped, and please screw me, J.J. is 6'3, thinner, toned, and please tell me how the waves were today. His light features from his hair to his eyes scream dream boat, which is what I guess makes him perfect for television.

  “Speaking of the show, I have news.”

  “Oh look J.J., Caroline didn't say the word bad with it.”

  “Meaning it's horrific,” J.J. backs my boyfriend.

  “You're both so damn over dramatic,” she scolds before looking at me. “They really are. I swear I'm not the bad guy.”

  “Nah. You're like the perfect supporting character who should get her story in the next book.”

  Caroline smiles brightly at me and then snaps at them, “Why can't you assholes ever say nice things to me like that?”

  “Because you call us assholes,” J.J. points out.

  Pierce lets out a small laugh as she huffs, “When the shoe fits.”

  “Then I must've been shoe shopping with Gen because that's the only way that's gonna happen.”

  “It's kinda sad you can't buy your own shoes.”

  Caroline instantly jumps on Pierce's case. “Says the man who can't pick out a matching tie without a frantic call to Helena if I'm not around.”

  “That's different.”

  I shake my head. “I don't think it is.”

  “See. Your girlfriend knows the winning side of this argument.”

  “My girlfriend. My side.”

  J.J. laughs again. “No man. That's not how it works. Your girlfriend, her side. You no longer have rights to winning any argument ever again and as fair warning, that shit only gets worse when you get married.”

  Isn't marriage talk a little premature for us? And normally I would've said something odd, strange, or just inappropriate but I'm straining my mouth from moving until I'm fairly certain I wo
n't make a giant fool of myself like usual. So far I think I'm doing okay. What? What do you mean it's only been an hour? What does that matter!

  “The news,” my boyfriend redirects the conversation as the waitress delivers an array of unappetizing food.

  J.J. and Pierce have small portions of fish with large portions of green vegetables I'm not sure I can identify while Caroline and I both ordered salads. However, hers has corn, tomatoes, beans and a bunch of other shit that doesn't belong on the same plate as the oversized leaves.