Page 76 of Good Enough

“Don’t care. Why does anyone work with that man?”

“Simple.” She shrugged. “Behind the dickhead nature, he can sniff out a winning picture better than a crack whore in a warehouse of smack. And he’s richer than the gods of Olympus, so if he’s throwing money into something, that means it’s a winner. Unfortunately, that’s how Hollywood works. Follow the money to success.”

“You are not to touch that,” he ordered, pointing at the phone, “until tomorrow morning. You’re skipping the range today. Get your cute little ass into my room and take a nap.”

“Why?”

“First, whether you realize it or not, the adrenaline crash is coming, and I can’t have you on the range with a live weapon when that happens. Brick will make one dumbass joke, and you’ll shoot him.

“Second, my room because your room qualifies for national disaster relief funds from FEMA. Most of it needs a complete replacement, which I will help you figure out later.

“And third”—he grabbed her chin in his hand—“we have a date later, and you’re going to need all the rest you can get.” With that, he tore the cap from her head and threw it off to the side. Then his mouth was swooping down onto hers, teeth clashing with his intensity, his tongue plundering her mouth to show her exactly what energy he had stored up for her.

The kiss was hard and hot but over quickly, leaving her stunned into silence. “Get in my room and get in my bed,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” she parodied with a sarcastic salute. When she turned on her heel, she readied to take a step, and there was a massive crack sound, followed by a stinging sensation on her right ass cheek.

An arm snaked around her waist, and then another loosely around her front, dragging her back against his chest. His breath was hot in her ear when he threatened, “You bet that wicked ass, ‘Yes, sir.’ Now take your saucy attitude out of here, or I’m gonna make that ass red from the palm of my hand.” Then his teeth gently nipped her earlobe before he let her go with a gentle push.

When she got to the door, she took the chance to look back. What she saw pushed her internal temperature up a couple more degrees. He was rock solid, almost statue-like in appearance, and laser-focused on her face.

“Waters?” she asked softly.

“Kubrick?”

“Wake me when you’re all back from the range.”

His grin was positively feral. “My pleasure, baby.”

She shivered, then stepped out of the War Room, closing the door behind her. Quietly, she slipped into his room across the hall and locked the door behind her. Stripping down to her sports bra and boy shorts, she dropped her clothes on the floor where she stood and crawled between the sheets of his perfectly-made bed.

So typical! Could probably bounce a coin off of this bed. Why make a bed you’re just going to get back into later that day?

Kai buried her head in his pillow and inhaled. She couldn’t prevent the groan escaping from her throat. His smell was everywhere. Wanting it to imprint on her body, she pulled the sheets tight around her and snuggled deeper into the pillow. It might creep him out later that she was covered in his scent, but somehow, she doubted it. That would probably cater to some sort of natural claiming behavior he had going on that his woman smelled like he’d rubbed himself all over her, marking her so other males knew to stay away.

His woman.

Is that what she was?

Why do people have to put labels on everything?

For now, at least, it appeared he’d marked her as his. But at the end of filming, they would go their separate ways, and what was she then? His ex?

At that moment, it suddenly became too much to think about. Her bones felt like they weighed twice their normal burden, her eyes felt gritty, and exhaustion slammed into her with the speed and force of a freight train. Her eyelids closed, she burrowed deeper into the comfort of Waters’ bed, and fell instantly asleep.

25

MARCH 7TH

Waters

Waters tried his door and smiled at finding it locked. Smart girl. He pulled the key from his pocket and entered his room silently, moving through the darkness without turning on the lights. The moon provided enough light through the window for him to see that Kubrick was exactly where she had been when he checked on her in the afternoon. And while TB said she hadn’t exited the house, he didn’t feel secure until he’d witnessed her sleeping for himself.

You’ve got it bad, dude.

She rolled over onto her side away from the door; however, she didn’t wake. He took in how tangled the sheets were, pulled up tight to her chin up front but leaving her back side completely uncovered. They were pulled entirely free of the bed, and the bottom end of the sheets were shrouding her, knees to feet, as tightly as an Egyptian mummy. He half-heartedly smiled at what would happen if she woke suddenly and tried to fly out of the bed.

Definitely does not sleep neat. It looks like she’s hugging your sheets as if they were you.

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