Page 31 of Wardrobe Malfunction

“Funny. Too small. Way too small.”

“I think I should stay,” Alex says. “You two might need a referee.”

“We’ll be fine.” I give Alex my most professional smile.

“Yeah, Pins and I will be just fine,” Vaughn states.

God, he’s an annoying, gorgeous bastard. How can I want to kiss his face off and smack him on it at the same time?

“Okay. Well, I’m just next door if you need me.”

I hear the door shut, signaling that Alex has left, and then it’s just Vaughn and me, alone.

Vaughn

Maybe I should have had Alex stay. Not because I fear for my safety, but because I have the strong urge to fuck her.

I spent most of last night trying not to think about her.

And having her here isn’t helping anything. Arguing with her is like the best kind of foreplay ever.

Fuck, is she hot, and that mouth of hers…that fucking smart-ass, sexy mouth of hers that I would love to see wrapped around my cock.

But, nope, not gonna do it.

I’m just here for this movie. No fucking around.

I promised Jack and myself.

“So, we’re doing this?” My voice comes out sounding sharper than I intended.

“Yep. Put this on for me, please,” she says, holding out a crisp white shirt.

I take the shirt from her. “Should I put some music on? I know how you like to twerk before you work.” I snort at my own rhyme. I’m such a fucking loser. “I don’t have any of Madonna’s early stuff, but I think I have ‘Vogue’ on my phone. I’m pretty sure I remember the dance routine as well, if you want me to join in?”

She stares at me for a moment, and then laughter bursts from her. The sound is like sunshine. If sunshine had a sound.

“You’re such a tool.” She laughs again. “Just put the damn shirt on, so we can get this over with.”

A big grin on my face, I peel my tank off and put the shirt on, buttoning it up.

I notice she doesn’t once look at me. She busies herself with her sewing stuff at the dining table.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Yep.”

When she turns to me, she has that damn pincushion on her wrist again, and I swear to God, my balls shrink in on themselves.

“Do you have to use pins? They’re making my balls twitch.”

She snorts out a laugh. “Afraid so. But don’t worry; I won’t get you again.” She steps closer, and I get a whiff of raspberries and vanilla, like I smelled yesterday. “I promise.”

I stare down into her eyes. They’re blue. Dark. Like the color of blueberries.

“I’ll put my hand inside the fabric to protect your skin. I could have done that yesterday, but it didn’t seem appropriate to put my hand down your pants the first day I met you.”

I wouldn’t have minded. “That sounds like a bad pick-up line I’ve used in the past.”