39. Wren
39
WREN
Running out of Stefan’s room, I cross the landing to the safety of mine and slam the door behind me. Dropping down face-first onto my bed, I lie here, crying and shouting into my pillow. When breathing becomes difficult due to the avalanche of tears leaking out of my eyes, I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, crying and berating myself for sleeping with a client again.
Letting out a sigh, I realize I’m still naked. When I ran back here, all I had was Stefan’s sheet wrapped around me. Hopping up, I ball the sheet up and throw it onto the floor. I walk into my en suite bathroom to have a shower, hopefully I can wash away the shame of what I did last night. But, Oh My God, last night was the best night, and sex, of my life. The things that man can do should be taught to all men around the world. My muscles ache in the most delicious way and when I soap up my breasts, I wince a little.
Looking down, I see teeth marks around my nipple from when Stefan bit and sucked them when I demanded him too. A smile graces my face as I run my finger over the indentations … then I gasp in shock when I realize why I’m so upset. I’m falling in love with my client … again.
Why is love and life so confusing? Why isn’t there a manual to guide you?
Sliding down the tile wall, I land on my butt and cry because we can never be. I’ve been here before and it never ends well for the help. They’ll side with the hockey player, just like they sided with the actor last time.
Shaking my head, I think about the moment I found myself in this same predicament with Simon …
… “I think I’m falling in love with you,” Simon whispers. He and I are in his trailer in between takes. We’ve just finished making out like teenagers at the movies on a Saturday night, and his words just now mean everything to me. All the sneaking around while sleeping with my client has been for something. Being in love is worth the secrecy, but what if love isn’t enough?
With a smile on my face, I reach up and cup his face. “I think I’m falling in love with you too but…”
“But what, Babycakes?” I shudder at the nickname he has for me.
“But you’re my client. How is this going to be seen when it all comes out?”
“So we’ll keep us a secret, just like we have been.”
Simon and I have been sneaking around for the last three months. Six months ago, I was hired by the production company of his latest movie to keep him in line and remake his image. Simon Simon—yep, that’s the stage name he went with since Simon Simdovonich is a mouthful, on both his name and his dick.
I’ve done my job and the production team is happy, but along the way our relationship changed. I started to fall for him and, it seems, he fell for me too. I know falling for a client is a no-no but the heart wants what the heart wants.
“I don’t want to hide forever, Simon. I want to be the one to go to movie premieres with you. I want to walk the red carpet on your arm. I want to be by your side at the awards ceremony when you win. I want ? —”
He interrupts me, “And I want that too, Babycakes, but…”
“I’m the hired help,” I dejectedly whisper.
“I knew you’d get it,” he croons. Clearly misreading my words just now. “Now come here and give daddy some sugar. I’m due back on set soon but before I go, I need you.”
He gives me that look that has my pussy weeping, and when he pulls his cock out and I see the tip glistening in the light of his trailer, I lick my lips. Walking over to him, I unbutton my blouse and slip it off my shoulders, leaving me in my demi-cup bra.
Coming to a stop before him, I drop down to my knees. Swiping my finger through his precum, I bring it to my lips and suck. His eyes dilate as he watches me suck my finger into my mouth.
“I can’t wait to have those lips of yours wrapped around my dick.”
Just as he says that, Rebecca, the head of production who hired me, walks in. “For fuck’s sake, Simon, I thought you were past this. Where the fuck is Wren? She’s supposed to be all over this. She’s ? —”
“Oh, she is,” Simon joyfully declares. He leans to the side, exposing a topless me and his dick to my boss.
That was the worst day of my career. Rebecca had me on the next flight out of Alamogordo, New Mexico where we were shooting, and she promised me that I’d never be an image consultant again.
With my tail between my legs, I decided to go to New York and visit my friend, Peyton, who was in town for work. She’s the owner of Monty’s Lingerie and was in the Big Apple for Fashion Week. She consoled me over espresso martinis and being the amazing friend she is, she knew someone who knew someone, and that’s how I met with Jaxson. After promising him I wouldn’t sleep with a client again, he hired me. And it was all going well until him .
“Fuuuuuck,” I cry out and slam my palm onto the tile floor. Another round of tears explodes from my eyes. The water turns cold, so I turn it off and climb out. With a towel wrapped around me, I step into my bedroom and climb back into bed.
Rolling to my side, I curl into a ball and berate myself for succumbing to the sexy charm of Stefan and, once again, fucking up my career.
There’s a knock on my door and it startles me awake. I have no idea what time it is but they knock again. “Wren, please don’t shut me out.” He’s the last fucking person I want to see right now. He knocks again and quietly utters my name with a pleading tone.
“Go away, Stefan,” I sing out. “I need to be alone.”
“Please, Wren,” he begs. “At least let me know you’re okay.”
“I …” But I can’t answer him because I’m not okay but this isn’t on him. It’s on me.
Thankfully he leaves me alone, but there’s also a part of me that wanted him to burst through the door and console me—I’m such a psycho bitch.
He shuffles away and I can hear him mumbling, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. Last night with Stefan was amazing, the best night of my life, and for me to do what I did, running away, it makes me a bitch. And ignoring him is childish, but I can’t right now. I need time to process. I need time to figure out where to go from here.
A short time later, my stomach growls and I realize I’m starving. After all, it’s after lunch and I haven’t eaten anything since last night, and I did get in a lot of cardio last night, hence the hunger. Climbing off the bed, I pull on some clothes and turn to exit my room, but I stand here and stare at the door. “Just do it,” I grumble. “You can’t hide in here forever.”
Reaching out, my hand is on the handle to open the door when Stefan knocks again. I jump in fright but I mutely stand here, staring at the door. Chicken , I hiss internally. I’m about to open the door when Stefan says, “I need to head to afternoon practice, Wren, but when I get back, we need to talk.” He pauses. “No, we ARE going to talk.”
Without giving me a chance to reply, he leaves. The sound of his feet stomping down the stairs echoes through my room and once again, I feel like a bitch.
Pulling on my big girl panties, I finally depart my room and by the time I get downstairs, he’s gone … it’s just me and my endless thoughts.
Opening the fridge, I stare into it, looking for something to eat. I spot the bottle of wine on the shelf and think, why not? Grabbing the bottle, I pour myself a glass and I chug it back before pouring myself another. Deciding to put together a choo-choo board, I get some cheese, meats, and grapes out and go about putting together my platter.
With my food and drink in hand—including the rest of the bottle—I head up to the rooftop deck. I’ve done some of my best thinking up here, and I’m hoping that today is no different. FYI, I don’t think about much and instead, I drink my wine and nibble on cheese. Since I’ve only eaten some cheese, a few crackers, and I’m sitting in the sun, the wine hits me hard and before I know it, I’m tipsy and my bottle is empty.
On shaky legs, I make my way downstairs to grab another bottle and when I’m bent over in the fridge, Stefan returns. Standing up, I spin around and I come face-to-face with him. I see the morose look on his face and that bitch feeling resurfaces. “Hi,” I utter.
“Hi,” he replies.
Awkwardly we stand here staring at one another. “Wine?” I offer but he shakes his head and once again, silence envelops us.
Stefan breaks the quietness when it becomes insufferable. “We need to talk.”
“So you said,” I snap. I don’t mean to be a bitch but with me hating myself right now, I’m projecting.
“You drive me crazy, Wren.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” I throw back at him, but this time there’s no sass or resentment. It’s the honest goddamn truth. “Stefan, I know we need to talk but I can’t right now. I need time to process.”
“Process what?” he hisses.
“This. Us. Everything,” I mumble. “Things are changing and I’m scared an?—”
“Wren,” he interrupts.
“No,” I snap. “I need time. I can’t do this.”
Slamming the wine bottle down on the counter, I storm out of the kitchen pissed off. I’ve asked him for time and he can’t even do that, fucking douche , but really, I should have known he wouldn’t listen. Guys like him never do. They just take and take and take until you have nothing left to give. It’s fine for Stefan if this all blows up because he’s the famous hockey player, he’ll be grand. But me? I’m just the image consultant who fucked her client … again.
Stefan doesn’t let me get far, he reaches out, grabs me, and presses me into the wall at the bottom of the stairs. His body leans into mine. Our breaths mingle. The air around us sizzles, just like it did last night.
“You’re really driving me crazy now,” he sneers.
“Crazy attracts crazy and, clearly, you and I are both fucking crazy.”
“I’m not talking about that kind of crazy,” he hisses through his teeth. His eyes are filled with desire and anger. His chest is heaving. His tongue darts out and slides across his lower lip. My eyes track the movement and the douche smirks. He knows what I’m thinking right now, it’s like last night synced us mentally.
Biting into my bottom lip, he stares as I drag my teeth over the skin, letting it pop back out. Our eyes meet again and there’s a hunger in his gaze that has me pressing my thighs together. “I want to bite that lip more than I need my next breath, but before I do that, Wren, you need to know something. You need to know that I’m crazy about you. I can’t stop thinking about you. Your taste. Your touch. Yo?—”
“You just want me for sex,” I snap in defense.
He shakes his head. “I want you for more than that, Wren. I want you for you. You told me to find what makes me happy, and you make me happy, Wren. You piss me off to no end but regardless of that, I still want you. I’m not going to push you because I’m not that kind of man. I want you to want me because I’m all you can think about. I want you to want me because I make you laugh. Because I make you happier than you’ve ever been before. I want you to want me how I want you.”
Standing here facing off, we stare intently at one another. If I thought the air was heated before, I was wrong. Now it’s a stifling inferno. Full of sexualized energy and his words hanging.
Neither of us moves.
Neither of us wants to be the one to give in but since I’m the one who ran away … since I’m the one still running, I know I have to be the one to make the move. And I want to, but at the same time I don’t, because I’m scared.
I’ve never felt like this about anyone before and I know, without a doubt, I want to be with him, but he’s my client. And even though he’s my client, he’s all I can think about. He looks at me with pleading eyes and like last time, I decide to leap because fuck the consequences. Stefan makes me happy so I do as my brother suggested. I leap.