Britney looks at us, her eyes bright. “Bex, Frank Moro is a fucking legend,” she says. “He’s like the Brad Pitt of porn.”
Chapter 6
Bex
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” I stammer, not really needing her to repeat it because I heard it quite clearly the first time. But what. The. Fuck.
“I don’t watch as much porn as Brit,” Ally says, as Britney gives her a teasing glare. “But Bex, even I know who Frank Moro is,” Ally comments, her fingertips flying across her keyboard. “And according to Google, he’s getting some sort of lifetime career achievement thing at the awards show.”
Frowning at her, I mumble, “I hope your work is tracking your search history.”
She smirks at me. “Bex, I know we usually tell you to not invest too much inguys—”
“At least not immediately,” Britney interrupts.
“Right, just be more chill?” I say.
Ally nods. “Yeah… Well, ignore us this time. This sounds like a fun time, and if he’s only in town for a few days, there’s not really enough time to get too attached,” she reasons.
“Think about all the incredible sex you could have! Bex!” Britney jumps up from the couch, waving her hands about, giddy.
“Uh…”
“You would have to tell us everything, of course,” Ally says, tilting her head as if accepting this was intended to become my luck. Or my fate?
Britney nods. “Naturally.”
Shaking my head, I stand and stretch, trying to signal to them that this conversation is over. “That’s great, ladies, really, thanks for the shared enthusiasm here, but—”
“But nothing! You can’t just not accept this sex god gift in your life!” Britney whines.
I arch a brow at her. “You’re making assumptions. We were just… flirting last night. It meant nothing.” Angling my head, I crack my neck—a bad habit, I know, but one I can never break since it gets stiff otherwise. “And besides, it’s not like I got his number or anything.”
As if on cue, my phone starts vibrating. I glance up at Britney and pounce for my phone on the table at the same time she does.
“Ha!” I say, snatching it away. I glance down at the screen and see “Corey Calling…”
The memory of Corey taking my phone for a moment last night surfaces, and my heart begins racing. “Oh, god.”
“If you don’t answer that, I will!” Ally calls from her seat at the island, her attention turned back to her work laptop.
Hands shaking, I stand and walk back toward my room, shutting the door against the protests and groans from my roommates. I want to get comfortable, maybe lie on the bed to take the call? But worry that he will hang up outweighs the urge for comfort, so I swipe to answer and raise the phone to my ear.
“This is Bex,” I say, my voice cracking slightly at the lack of proper morning hydration and nerves.
“Of course it is.” Corey’s deep voice rumbles through my body. “How are you doing today, sugar?”
My stomach flutters from the sound of his voice alone. Knowing he’s a porn star –not just a porn star, but an epic porn star–has me tied up in nerves. Popping my eyes open, I begin to pace. I try to focus on the collage of photos on my wall, a collection of different images taken by the kids at the youth center over the years, but it’s no use. I’m pacing around my short room like a demented Energizer bunny running on butterfly flutters.
“I’m good. Great, even. Really good. You?” The words tumble out, and I cringe at how awkward I sound. There’s no way he doesn’t notice this as well.
“Can’t complain.”
There’s a moment of silence before I ask, “How was the club last night?”
He groans softly, and I imagine he’s still in bed in a penthouse somewhere, probably stretching that long, fit body against luxury satin sheets. Internally, I tell myself to stop picturing this man in bed, stop thinking about the scene Britney tried to describe, and just fucking chill for a moment.
“It was okay. Caught up with some old friends who are in town, doing some pre-work for an event in a few months,” he says.
