Chapter 8
Eight
Sterling
What the hell was I thinking inviting him back to my trailer, and for pop tarts?
Could I not have thought of a better line than that?
To make matters worse, he said yes. Did he really think I meant food, or did he have the same dirty thoughts as me?
I was so close to knowing my answer that I got cold feet, backing out at the last minute.
I thought the curiosity would have at least lessened after a good jerk-off session and a full night’s rest. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Then there was all the innuendo and suggestiveness in his tone. Maybe I was hearing things.
Maybe I was hearing what I wanted to hear.
Fuck, why didn’t I message Melanie? She might have helped sate this hunger in me.
It’s ravenous and only grows. He smelled better today—all sweaty and all man.
It’s a good thing he didn’t come back with me.
I wouldn’t have been able to hold back. I was struggling as it was while we were outside with so many cars driving by.
Sitting in my vanity chair, I run a comb through my hair, styling it in a way I normally never would.
It’s almost time for me to be someone else.
Five movies later and a bundle of nerves still turns in my stomach fifteen minutes before going on.
There’s only one way to calm them. It’s the reason I need to spare some extra time between makeup and filming.
After looking back to make sure my dressing room door is locked, I unzip the front of my black trousers and pull my cock free from my underwear.
The first few strokes I give myself while closing my eyes and hearing Hayden’s heavy panting from earlier already leave me dizzy.
Warmth swirls in my lower stomach, and I bite back a moan when I increase my hand movements.
I buck my hips. I’m so close. Sliding a hand up my shirt, I twist one of my nipples, my body jerking as I come to the memory of Hayden’s captivating eyes.
I roll my body against the chair, laughing and smiling at myself in the mirror as I cover the vanity in my release.
I made more of a mess this time than I usually do, always so careful and not wanting to risk the chance of anyone finding out what I do between sets.
Not wanting anyone to know my dirty secrets.
I think about what it would be like to have him walk in on me doing this and what I’d do if he was standing behind me, watching me in the mirror the way I was watching myself.
I’d let him. I’d show him exactly what I was doing, and maybe even a little more of what no one else knows about me.
He makes me want to let him see too much of who I am, and I think that’s what scares me the most. What if I reveal what I don’t even know about myself, or keep trying so hard to pretend I don’t?
A knock shakes my door. “Sterling? There’s a package here that’s arrived for you. Want me to leave it outside the door?”
“That’ll be fine, thank you.” I don’t say the name in case I guess the wrong assistant. I’m assigned a new one at every movie, and after a while people’s voices start to blend together at these things.
Not his, though. No, I could pick him out of a noisy crowd. It’s played enough times in my head over the last few days.
“It’s right here whenever you’re ready for it,” the woman on the other side of the door says, dragging me from my thoughts again.
I get cleaned up and wipe down everything around me. It didn’t look like I got anything on the chair, but I wipe it down in case. I’m so much lighter on my feet now, practically gliding across the floor to open the door and grab the small square box.
I take it back into the dressing room with me, not bothering to lock the door again, and sit down with the gift in my lap. It doesn’t say who sent it. There’s no address on it at all. Someone dropped it off personally. Hair stands on the back of my neck. It could be anything and from anyone.
I’ve gotten everything from flowers to lingerie to jewelry with hand-written proposals. I dig through the pink tissue paper, sitting up taller as something black pokes out from under the many layers. I lift the item from the box, my heart tripping over itself.
My throat squeezes tight and I forget how to breathe for what feels like minutes. I drop the knife back into the box, and I’m about to dump it in the trash when I spot a note taped to the blade.
I was thinking this was made to be in your hands when I first bought it for you.
Then I saw you holding it and knew it was.
My movie star is far more deserving of the real thing.
Don’t let them ever make you think otherwise.
Don’t let them take it away from you again.
You’ll know exactly what to do with it when you’re ready to, and you’ll look so beautiful using it for a movie where you’re the only star.
I gasp, running my fingers over the flat side of the blade. Only one thing I’m feeling right now is the reaction I should have. I’m both unsettled and intrigued. I lift the blade closer to my face and my shining eyes are looking back at me.
The knife feels so heavy and so right. I tighten my grip around it and touch the cool metal to my cheek. A knock at the door has me nearly dropping it to the floor.
“Yeah?” I say, shoving the knife back into the box and covering it with the tissue.
“They’re almost ready for you, Mr. Maxwell,” a deep voice says.
“I’ll be right out,” I say, not recognizing my own voice.
I tuck the box into my closet behind all my hanging outfits I set on the rack for the week.
I quickly close the door and take a deep breath.
The gift should scare me. At the least it should have me wanting to alert the guards, but I don’t.
I pretend everything’s normal and put on a fake smile.
Except, for once it’s not fake. It’s real, and I have to touch it to make sure it’s actually there.
The person who’s been switching out my fake props for real ones sent me a gift, and all I can think as I step in front of the cameras is what will they gift me next, and will they be here to watch me holding it with a smile on my face when they do?
We got everything on the first take, and it was an easy scene. Boring but easy. Halfway through, we moved outside to a wooded area, and I had to thrust a shovel into a hole that was dug up ahead of time. The heat’s getting to me now, causing my jacket to stick to my skin.
They made me wear a stupid blazer in the middle of summer, and I take it off before we start walking back. Hayden catches up to me, his camera hanging from a strap on his shoulder.
“You did good out there. Almost believable even,” he says in a chipper tone, and I laugh.
I planned to avoid him the rest of the time I was here, but he makes it impossible. I hate that I like that he does.
“Thanks, I guess.” I look at the ground, my eyes struggling to stay there.
I can’t look into his eyes because if he asks me to go somewhere with him, it’ll make it harder for me to say no, and I need to take the knife to my trailer where no one can accidentally stumble upon it.
How will I be able to explain my need to keep it?
How those words in the letter about it being mine were true?
It felt like it was mine the first time I picked it up, and even more so after being told it was purchased with me in mind.
“I hear it’s going to be lettuce wraps for lunch. What do you say we get out of here and go get some real food.”
My eyes can’t help but search out his this time.
“That is unless you’re unable to leave the premises.”
“I can leave,” I say a little too quickly, as if I have something to prove.
“Then how about I take you to my house and I make you your favorite meal? It can be anything too.”
“What makes you think you’ll have everything on hand to make it?” I clip.
“If I don’t, the store’s only minutes away. Don’t worry, I’ll bring you back before it gets dark.”
And if I don’t want him to? Will he still bring me back before then?
“Okay, sure,” I say, sounding listless. Acting like it’s whatever and not a big deal while I’m freaking out on the inside.
I’m going to his house where it’ll be only the two of us.
Or I assume it will be. I was supposed to prevent that from happening again, but I keep saying yes at the drop of a hat.
“Okay, cool. My car’s on the far-right side of the building. It’s a short walk from where we already are.”
“Wait.” I stop moving. “You meant right this second?”
“Yeah.” He smiles, his feet also coming to a halt and only inches away from mine. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. You don’t have to drop that off first?”
He looks to where my eyes are pointing and his brows dip. “Oh, I guess I do.” Laughing, he pats his bag and shakes his head. “I’m so damn hungry I’m letting my stomach do all the thinking.”
“You go deal with that and I’ll go change into something less appropriate for some winter formal.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Sounds like a plan. Meet me at the back door when you’re ready.”
“Okay.” We continue walking, both moving quietly together until we reach my trailer.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” he says, giving a light slap to my shoulder.
“Is your hungry stomach doing all the talking now?”
He shakes with laughter. “It would seem so. That or a different part of my body.” He smirks and leaves me standing here feeling as if I swallowed my tongue whole.
Much like when I asked him to join me for pop tarts earlier, this isn’t just about food, but this time when I try to open my mouth to back out of it, nothing comes out.
It’s happening. I’ll ride with him in his car, walk through the front door of his lake house with him, and will probably keep saying yes to whatever he suggests we do next, because that’s all I can do when it comes to him. That’s all I want to do.
Twelve minutes later I reach his car, thinking I can still change my mind. Then he rolls down his window and with an easy smile, he says, “Get in, movie star.”
So I do.