Page 19 of Charmed by You

I have a reputation for seducing my co-stars, after all, soI know I can do this. I can make him hot. Make him hard. And it doesn’t have tomean anything.

I never go after a co-star who’s involved, because I don’tbelieve in fucking up someone else’s relationship. But there’s an intimacy inworking together on a film, and being intimate in bed just helps thatrelationship. That trust.

Which is what I tell them, but it’s bullshit.

The truth is I like being in control. I like knowing thatI’m the one taking the lead. I’m the one doing the seducing. Because if that’sthe case, then I’m not the one getting hurt.

Except that’s not what I want now. Not with Simon. I don’twant to be the one pushing and taking and claiming. I want to be the one whosurrenders.

That word comes back to me. What he’d said at my house. Thatone simple word that had pissed me off even as much as it had turned me on,even though he hadn’t been talking about sex at all.

Obey.

I shiver, my nipples tightening, my whole body suddenlyaware. I close my hand on the knob again, but I don’t turn. I can’t—I won’t—bethe one who pushes. Not with him. Not the first time.

I fully intend to head back to my own room, but somehow Idon’t end up there. Instead, I go to the back door, then look out at the darknight, illuminated only by the dim glow from a partial moon.

I don’t even realize I’ve opened the door until I’m outside,the air warm around me. I sigh, then step off the patio so that my bare feetare in the thick, trimmed grass. I lean back against the post and close my eyes,the grass beneath me and the sky above me, and Simon in the house looking overme.

I feel safe. Taken care of. And that’s not a feeling I’mused to.

I want him.

I want him, but I need to stop. He’s my bodyguard. He’s hereto protect me. But he doesn’t want me. I’m not even sure he likes me, thoughwe’ve at least reached a détente.

So I need to stop thinking like that because I don’t needthe frustration, and I need to just get the fuck over it.

I’m about to push away from the post and head back inside tobed when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I start to cry out, but another handcloses over my mouth, and in that instant, I know just how badly I screwed up.I’d been safe in his house, but out here—out under the sky—I’m a target, and I—

“You shouldn’t be out here.”

My entire body goes limp with relief, and I draw in a breathas he removes his hand from my mouth.

“I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” I tense, readyingmyself for the verbal lashing as he tells me what an idiot I was.

But that’s not what he says. Instead, he says, “Why didn’tyou come in?”

“What—”

“I heard you outside my room,” he says. “I could practicallyfeel your desire. But you walked away.”

I want to tell him he’s wrong. That he’s too damn arrogantfor his own good.

Except he’s not wrong at all, and right then, I can barelyform words, much less think clearly.

He’s still behind me, my head against the post. He trailshis hands down my arms, then stops near my waist. Before I even realize hishands have moved, he’s holding the sash. “Your call, sweetheart,” he whispers,his voice soft near my ear. I should say no. I should tell him this isunprofessional and we can’t go there.

I should tell him I don’t want him at all.

Instead, I say, “Yes. Oh, yes, please.”

I hear his low, sensual growl as he opens the robe, then Iwhimper as his hands stroke my skin, his fingers slipping lower until he’sstroking the juncture between my sex and my thigh, and I’m going crazy,desperate to feel him against my clit. Desperate for his fingers—his cock—to bedeep inside me.

Then his hands are gone, and he’s standing in front of me.“Simon,” I beg. “Please.”

He moves closer, then opens the robe more so that my breastsare completely exposed. His gaze roams over me, slow and easy, as if he’sassessing where to touch me. How to make me melt. And I want to. Dear God, Iwant to melt.

“Touch yourself,” he says.