Chapter 12
Twelve
Sterling
I smile up at the ceiling, stretching my arms up with my body.
I still feel wrung out from yesterday but in the best way.
Sitting up in bed, I shove off the covers and push down my hard cock, knowing my hand won’t be able to compare to Hayden’s.
All it will do is leave me more sexually frustrated because I won’t have something filling me around the other side at the same time.
I groan when I press at my hole, rocking my hips, and I toss my head back as I shove my finger not even halfway inside. I’m already sore as it is, and trying to go in there dry isn’t making things better. I add some spit to my hand but it isn’t enough, and all I have is lotion in here.
I let out a sigh and climb off the mattress, tossing on some basketball shorts, and I stop walking when I almost pass by the shirt I borrowed from Hayden yesterday. Lifting it from the floor, I shove my nose into it and practically turn into a puddle of goo where I stand.
It smells like him and me together. I really like the combination and I’m wishing I had it everywhere. My sheets, blankets, and on everything I own. I want to drive back home with it wrapped around me. I smile, wondering if he’d use his fingers on me in my car so that I can.
No. We can’t do anything here. Too many people are around, and someone is always looking for a person like me to slip up somewhere.
It’s why I do my best to keep my private life separate from my work environment.
It doesn’t stop fans from digging, though.
Anyone could be a crazed stalker too. There have been a few assistants who were selling images of actors showering in shared bathrooms to the tabloids.
One even auctioned off a bagel I took a bite of.
What’s even crazier is that someone actually bought it for three hundred dollars.
I don’t even care to wonder what someone would want with a half-eaten bagel.
Nothing normal, that’s for damn sure. Maybe I should start selling my half-eaten food myself.
I laugh at that. If I were to flood the market with it, then there wouldn’t be such a high demand, and I might not have to worry about setting my plate down anymore or throwing away a dirty napkin.
My alarm goes off, pushing away my thoughts, but I dismiss it, setting down Hayden’s shirt before picking it up again.
I slip it on, sliding my hands over the front and gazing at myself in the mirror.
It’s a little big, but there’s this giddy feeling I get wearing clothes he owns.
It’s almost as if he owns me too right now.
What am I even talking about?
Do you hear how you sound in your head right now?
Fucking nuts. That’s how I sound.
I quickly take the shirt off and throw it back on the floor, putting on a white tank instead. It’s better when I get dressed in my dressing room, and most of my outfit changes stay there anyway.
My phone makes a noise again and then it buzzes. I look down and my breaths stutter.
Unknown: Hope you don’t mind, but I got your number from someone else’s phone when they set it down and weren’t paying attention. That’s a little psychopathic, I know, but let’s just blame my recent behavior on the next set I’m about to film.
My hands tighten around my phone, and another message alert has me jumping.
Unknown: Okay, I saw how that sounded just now, so how about we pretend this never happened and I see you at the crafty with your favorite pastries?
Maybe what he said should have unsettled me in some way, but all I can do is smile from the inside out.
It is a bit odd for me to hook up with someone before giving them my number.
I never really thought of doing it before.
My phone is mostly used for work and doom scrolling, or the occasional audio book.
I’ve never had much of a social life outside all this. Not until him.
We’ve gone running together, shared breakfast and dinner. We went swimming in his pool and got each other off. He was beautiful when he came too, his eyes glowing as if he was coming to life for the first time, and all I could think when I saw him was, “I did that. That was from me.”
I look down at the phone again, starting to write a message and then delete it, not wanting to come off too eager. I’ll play it cool. I won’t respond, and I’ll pretend I didn’t see it because of how busy I am and it got buried in all the messages from my other suitors.
I shove my phone in my pocket, slip on my slides, and exit the trailer.
Hayden is outside talking to one of the assistants, and everyone who talks to him is always so fucking flirty.
Her hand keeps finding his shoulder, but he doesn’t lean into her, distancing himself when she comes close.
He doesn’t do that with me. My heart kicks and I tighten my fists at my sides, forcing myself to walk past them while pretending not to notice him there.
I stand in front of the crafty, lifting a plate and slapping it against my hand, trying not to look behind me to see if he’s following me.
The pop tarts are on the table like he said they would be, with a different design on top than usual.
I study them closer and the crust looks flakier too, and not one single pop tart is the same size as another.
My neck tickles at the back as I struggle to stay still.
Did he see me? Was he too wrapped up in his conversation with her to notice me walking by?
My stomach plummets. I can’t stop the irrational thoughts from coming, and if anything, they start to spiral out of control.
Has he asked her to join him at his house for dinner?
Has she been in his pool? Has she been in his bed?
I’m about to turn around and head to my dressing room, but my feet halt when a hand lands next to mine. I look up to the left of me and Hayden’s smile has my breath sticking to the back of my throat.
“You found the breakfast I made you.”
My chest flutters. “You . . . you made these?”
“Yeah. Go ahead and try them. Let me know if they pass the Sterling test.”
My mouth wrinkles in the corners and I set two on my plate, not caring who’s watching for once. The most important person is looking, while also liking everything he sees. It’s hard to care about anyone else’s approval when I have his.
“Go on,” he encourages, and I don’t realize I already have one in my hand until it’s pressed to my lips.
It’s sweet with the first bite, and I sink my teeth into the center, humming around it as the soft pastry easily slides on my tongue. It’s delicious. Better than the ones from the bakery. And what heightens the experience is having such a good audience.
He’s so enamored by me. His eyes are filled with wonder, and they’re glued in place, as if he doesn’t want to miss a minute of his favorite show.
“Good?”
“Yeah.” I eat some more and he licks his lips, the corners lifting. His eyes are filled with hunger, needing me to enjoy more of what he brought me. Needing him to see the truth behind my sounds, of how much I’m really enjoying it, I say, “It’s probably the best thing I’ve eaten.”
“I like feeding you.”
I smile, licking at my fingers, and reach for the second pop tart. “I like eating, so that works out.”
He chuckles, face elated. “Does that mean you’ll agree to have dinner with me again?”
“At your house?” Not sure I can get away with going that far out again.
“No. The hotel I’m at has two restaurants and room services.”
I set the pop tart back down, my breaths shaky. “I don’t know. Are other people who are working on the movie staying there?”
“No. I made sure before booking my room. They’re mostly staying at the Holiday Inn across the way. Where I’m at is a little further down.”
“Maybe.”
“You think about it while you enjoy your food.” He winks.
“I may need to think on it longer than that.”
“Luckily we have all day. It’s only breakfast time.” He squeezes my arm. “I’ll see you on set.”
“Yeah,” I say low, wrapping my remaining pop tart in a napkin before shoving it in my pocket.
His hand slides to my back, moving up and down before he walks off to one of the back rooms. He wasn’t touching her like that, and he didn’t bring her food, but if I don’t join him for dinner, will he settle for her or someone else instead.
The thought leaves me sick. I want to leave here with him.
I want to spend the night in the same bed.
I was so relaxed and sated lying next to him after having the best orgasm of my life, I think I could easily have passed out without the sleeping pills.
We may have gotten away with leaving together without anyone getting wind of it the first time, but what if we’re not as lucky this time around?
The choices I made to further my career and keep on going in the right direction were easier to stand by before he came along. In only a few days this man has me wanting to keep throwing caution to the wind and not care about any other fan or person watching me but him.
I’m a star when I step onstage or when I’m up on the big screen in a movie theater to everyone else, but with him, I’m always one.
People busy themselves around me, and when Lisa walks in the front door calling out orders to whoever looks her way, I scurry off to my dressing room.
Looking at the time on my wall, I close the door behind me and place the pop tart on the vanity. As I lower myself into my chair, my ass is poked by something sharp—the corner of a box. I only have twenty minutes to ease the nerves in me, so I should probably open it later.
What if it’s another prop replacement? What if it’s one I haven’t seen yet?
Why do I need to see whatever it is so badly?
It’s making my skin itch when I consider shoving it back in the closet.
I can take a quick peek and then hide whatever it is if I need to.
There’s no shipping label again, and no name.
I peel back the tape and open the flaps.