Chapter 17

Victoria

This is a mistake. I must be losing my mind.

The litany of how asinine it is to invite Hayden Maddox to my house for a lunchtime tryst plays on repeat through my head all morning, growing louder and more insistent as my lunch break draws closer.

I combat it by telling myself that I'm allowed to have fun. That it's okay for me to spend time with a man who likes me. That lots of people enjoy casual sex without ending up accidentally pregnant, and that this situation isn't at all the same as the one I found myself in at nineteen.

For one, I'm not nineteen. I don't think I'm in love with a guy who's failing out of school because he'd rather stay up late drinking and getting high with his buddies, thinks condoms ruin the experience, and doesn't want me messing with my hormones via birth control either. And I'm not so foolish anymore as to think that was genuine concern for me, my health, or our "spiritual connection," as he put it. He was happy for any excuse to make life as easy as possible for himself. Going to class and keeping a job required work and discipline, two things he was never interested in, but I was too caught up in his philosophical rants about artistic expression and letting the universe speak to him via mind-altering substances to notice until it was far too late.

Basically, I'm not stupid and gullible anymore.

And I've had sex and not gotten pregnant more than once before this. So hooking up with a sexy movie star on my lunch break isn't going to end in disaster.

Even in the worst-case scenario where people find out about us and the gossip rips through town like a forest fire through dry brush in August after a summer-long drought, it can't be worse than when I returned home with a baby and moved back into my childhood bedroom, feeling every inch a failure for not being able to finish school and live up to all my fashion designer dreams like I'd been talking about since I was fifteen.

I survived. I adjusted. I made smart choices, I became a dental hygienist—with my parents' help and support—moved into my own place, and have been successfully raising my daughter in spite of judgmental looks and complete abandonment by Erin's father.

He'd said all the right things when I found out I was pregnant. Or at least I thought they were the right things at the time. Of course, he always told me whatever I wanted to hear, until what I wanted to hear was, "I'll get a job and help with the baby."

I realized I was on my own by the time Erin was born, but I still tried my best to make it work at school. It just … I couldn't.

The death knell was when my advisor had me come in for a meeting a few weeks after Erin was born and explained that she'd already started the paperwork for me to withdraw from classes because there was no way I'd be able to catch up. She was compassionate, which somehow made it worse, and I'd bawled through the appointment, my tiny baby asleep in her car seat at my feet, as I signed the forms she presented me with, recognizing her wisdom.

"You can come back," she assured me. "Once your baby's a little older and you have things figured out."

But I couldn't. I didn't. I needed something stable, and I needed help. I couldn't afford childcare and rent, and I couldn't live in the dorms if I wasn't attending school, and even if I could somehow still manage that, they don't let you live in the dorm with a baby.

I'm thirty now. I know what pregnancy and childbirth are like, even if it's not necessarily at the top of my list of things to do now. But if, by chance, I did get pregnant again, I have more options now. I don't know that I could bring myself to terminate the pregnancy now any more than I could when I was nineteen, but I have money. I have a job. I have a house. And Hayden Maddox, while I doubt he'd be really involved, is unlikely to fuck off and leave me without any kind of support. At the very least, I expect he'd pay child support, even if it ended up all going through lawyers and whatever else big-money actors use to cover up their indiscretions, and he wasn't in our life at all.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter to myself as I grab my things, getting ready to head home for lunch. "I really need to pull back. Nothing like that is going to happen." We'll have some fun, he'll leave once the film is finished, and I'll always get to have fond memories of that time I helped with costumes on a movie and had a fling with a movie star.

I need to chill out and stop preparing for worst-case scenarios that are highly unlikely to happen.

"Did you forget your lunch?" Anna asks as she sees me about to take off.

I offer her a polite smile. "Yup." It's the simplest explanation, and while I don't like lying, I don't want to scramble for something closer to the truth that sounds more like a lie. "I'll be back in time for my first afternoon appointment. Don't worry."

She waves me off. "I never worry about you, Tori. See you in a bit!"

My phone vibrates in my hand on my way to my car.

Hayden Maddox

I'm parked on the street outside your house.

Be there in 5

I should probably change his name in my phone to something else. Something more discreet. What if he texts me something like that and someone sees?

That would be a disaster.

The knowledge that he's waiting for me spurs me on. And it's not just nerves fluttering in my belly—though lord knows there's a fair amount of that in the mix. No, it's anticipation. Excitement. My blood fizzes with it. I can't remember the last time I felt this way about a man, and part of me wants to go back to catastrophizing just so I don't get my hopes up too much.

But Brit's voice plays in my head—You deserve some fun.

"That's all this is," I remind myself out loud. "You're having fun with a man. And sneaking around only adds to the excitement. You're allowed to be happy and enjoy yourself." The catastrophizing is only a way to try to protect myself. On some level, I'm aware of that. But protecting myself from potential pain also stops me from experiencing potential happiness.

On that note, I pull into my driveway and throw my car into park. My lunch break is only an hour, so there's no time to waste. I hurry to my front door, fumbling with my keys in my haste, agonizingly aware of Hayden standing behind me.

He follows me inside, waiting patiently while I set an alarm on my phone so I don't have to keep an eye on the clock, his smile matching mine when I turn to face him.

He yanks off the Dodgers hat he had pulled low over his eyes, tossing it on the couch and reaching for me. "I've missed you," he murmurs, bending his head to kiss me.

"Really?" I didn't expect him to say that.

He pauses, his brows lifting, a small smile claiming his lips. "I take it the feeling wasn't mutual?"

"Well, no, that's not—" I splutter, and with a soft chuckle, he claims my lips, effectively silencing my awkward protests.

I pull back from the kiss, though, needing to say more. "I did miss you," I say softly. He's never far from my thoughts, especially at night when I'm alone in my bed reliving the sliver of time I spent in the bed in his trailer. "I just didn't think you'd miss me too."

"Of course I did," he whispers, placing light kisses on my lips. "How could I not? All I can think about between takes is how long it'll be until I see you again. I spend all my time on set wondering when I'll catch a glimpse of you. It's taken all my self control not to find Mia and demand to know your schedule."

That has me chuckling now. "I'll text it to you later if you want."

He hums. "Yes, please. Knowing when to look for you will help me stay a little more focused."

"Having me around is a distraction?" I try to pull away, because I feel like this needs to be talked about, but he's having none of it. His arms wrap around me and he keeps me close, kissing my temple, my cheek, my jaw, since he can't get to my lips.

Another rumbly hum that vibrates through his chest and into my palms resting against it. "A good distraction."

My eyebrows jump. "Is the film not going well?"

Sighing, he stops kissing me and looks down into my face, brushing a strand of hair off my forehead. "Filming is going excellent. I'm more excited about this project than I've been in a long time, even if Brady is a perfectionistic ass the majority of the time. As much as it sucks to deal with on set, it'll make the end result that much better—at least that's usually the case. This is his big directorial debut, so he's extra invested in making sure it's a hit. I am too, since I'm helping fund it. But don't worry, Victoria. You're not messing me up." He flashes a grin. "You help keep me from getting so in my head that I start messing up."

The last sentence fills me with relief. "Okay, then."

He claims my lips once more. While he kisses me, his fingers skate under my scrubs, and he starts taking off my top. I let him, then disentangle myself from his grip, lace my fingers through his, and lead him to my bedroom.

Stepping inside the room still darkened by my light blocking curtains, I turn on the bedside lamp, letting the warm yellow glow illuminate the space rather than using the harsh overhead light. He pauses in the doorway, toeing off his shoes as he surveys the artwork on the walls—a combination of fashion plates, prints from local artists, and pictures Erin's drawn for me over the years—and smiles. "This feels very cozy," he says quietly, stepping inside and reaching for me once more.

"Thanks," I respond in the same tone, lifting my hands to his shoulders and trailing my fingers behind his neck, stroking the hair at his nape.

He gives me another soft smile, bending his head and touching his lips to mine in a gentle kiss. He continues indulging in these tender kisses, one followed by another, like we have all the time in the world to stand here and kiss each other. No sense of urgency, no sense that he realizes I have a literal ticking clock in my pocket counting down the time until I have to go back to work, no worries at all.

"Shhh," he murmurs, skating his lips down my cheek to place a kiss below my ear. "I can hear you thinking. Relax. It'll be better that way."

Huffing out a quiet laugh, I tip my head, giving him better access to my neck and shoulder, and he hums in pleasure.

"You smell so good," he murmurs, nipping at the tendon where my neck connects to my shoulder, soothing the faint sting with more kisses. Then he lifts the hem of the tank top I have on beneath today's scrubs, revealing my blush lace bra. He grunts softly, a sound of appreciation. "This is pretty."

"Thank you."

"Now take it off."

That makes me laugh, and he grins too, taking a step back and reaching for the hem of his own shirt and lifting it up and over his head, balling up the fabric and tossing it aside, and the sight of his abs rippling as he undresses has me frozen to the spot. When he quirks his eyebrows, his hands falling to the belt of his jeans, I unfreeze, unhooking my bra and letting it fall away, forcing myself to act nonchalant even though undressing in front of someone has my heart rate kicking up, and not just from desire.

I know he saw me naked already and he was nothing but complimentary. But there's still part of me that's uncomfortably aware of my squishy belly and stretch marks and the fact that my boobs aren't as perky as they once were.

But then Hayden is naked, stepping toward me and reaching for the drawstring at the waist of my scrubs. "How are you still wearing clothes?" he asks, smiling as he makes a soft tsking sound. "Let's get rid of these."

With a tug and a push, my pants are at my knees, and I sit on the bed, kicking them away, leaving me in only the sheer black thong I chose this morning.

Hayden's grinning like the cat that caught the canary, and I guess I'm the canary in this situation. And if that means he's going to eat me up, I have no objections. Especially after last time.

The look in his eyes is positively predatory as he stalks over me, and I can't suppress my smile or shiver of anticipation as he braces his hands on either side of me, then hooks two fingers in the waist of my thong and tugs.

Lifting my hips, I help get it off, and he tosses it over his shoulder, uncaring where it lands. I scoot farther onto the bed as he crawls over me, the head of his dick dragging up my thigh. He drops his head and kisses me, settling over me on his elbows, once again resuming that unhurried pace like kissing me is the only thing on the agenda for today. Only this time his dick lies hot and heavy on my lower belly, and he starts grinding it against me, slowly moving so that the underside of his dick strokes my clit, and I lift my hips to meet him, needing every ounce of friction he'll give me.

I sigh into his mouth, wrapping my arms around him and planting my feet on the bed to give me leverage to meet him. When he drags along my opening, I whimper.

I want him. I want his kisses. I want his mouth on my clit. But most of all, I want him inside me.

We got interrupted before that could happen last time, and every time I've relived those moments, I've wondered what he'd feel like.

"I need you," I whisper against his lips.

Pulling back, he grins down at me. "Let me make sure you're ready first."