Hunter Page. Action hero. Heartthrob. Adored by men and women worldwide.
And Saint’s rumored boyfriend.
What the fuck?
A low growl escaped my throat.
I was just about to order him to get the fuck out of there and never darken my woman’s door again when Saint’s voice squealed, “You’re here!”
Hunter Page’s dark, brooding gaze settled somewhere over my shoulder, and his mouth curved into a wide grin. His stare scanned down, then back up again. “Fuck me, baby. You look like a wet dream.”
Slowly, I craned my neck, and my entire body jerked.
Saint glided down the stairs toward us and fuck me if the sight of her didn’t make me almost swallow my tongue.
She wore a slip of a silvery pink sequin dress that hit her thighs just below the cheeks of her ass. The top of it was a halterneck, and the neckline draped loosely to show an expanse of smooth, glowing, firm cleavage. The top part of her long, black hair was slicked back from her face and pinned up to give it height, while the bottom half cascaded down her back. Her eye makeup was dark, smoky, and sexy. My woman’s mouth was pale pink and so damned juicy-looking that I couldn’t stop the dirty images of sliding my cock between those glossed-up lips from stabbing through my mind.
It hit me then how much I hated Hunter Page with every drop of blood that flowed through my veins, but the asshat was correct about one thing.
Saintdid indeedlook like a wet dream.
Fuck me.
Fuck me.
Heat crawled up my neck, and I cracked it from side to side, my eyes never leaving the sex-kitten who strutted toward us on sky-high silver sandals with straps that crisscrossed up her ankle.
My mouth filled with saliva as Saint’s eyes met mine and held.
“You okay, hon?” she asked with a breezy innocence.
I grunted in reply, willing my dick to deflate instead of trying to punch a hole through the inseam of my Tom Ford pants.
One side of Saint’s mouth tipped up into a lopsided grin, and her gaze skated away, warming as it fell on the Neanderthal standing behind me. “Hunter,” she breathed, moving into his waiting arms before leaning up and kissing his cheek softly. “When did you get back?”
“This morning,” he murmured, his mouth going slack as he took in her face, hair, and dress approvingly. “Never seen you looking sexier, babe. I need to take more overseas roles if this is what I’m treated to when I come home.”
“Overseas?” she chided. “You’ve been in Canada.”
I almost snorted my disgust.
Obviously, you didn’t need brains to be a movie star these days. Hunter may have been an action hero, but in the words of Gambit, Hunter Page was thick as pig shit.
God only knew what the fuck Saint saw in him.
“Been in Thailand, too, remember,” he chided back, his eyes coming back to me and dancing with humor. “My girl gets so into her music and songwriting that she forgets where I am most of the time.”
I folded my arms across my chest and let out another grunt.
He snaked a hairy-assed arm across Saint’s shoulders while holding the other one out toward me. “Good to meet ya. I’m Hunter.”
“Ice,” I replied, taking his fingers and giving them a firm squeeze.
He squeezed back sharply. “Thanks for looking after my girl.”
A cocky grin slid across my face, and I squeezed harder, making him wince before I dropped his hand. “Saint’s a dream to look after. Enjoyed every second so far. Shame you’re away working so often, and someone else has to do your job, but then, at least I’m military trained, whereas you just act the part.”
“Oh, I dunno,” he rumbled. “I fought MMA for five years. I think I could handle a bit of CPP. I’m actually bigger than my bodyguards. It’s a running joke between my fanbase. My security’s more likely to get shit when we’re out than I am, but the studios insist.” He shrugged. “You know how it is when you make millions of dollars per movie—Oh, that’s right. You don’t.”
