Page 12 of Nathan

Except imagining such things is a stupid fucking idea, because now I have a raging hard-on to contend with.

I peel myself off the bed, my erection tenting my boxers as I pad into the bathroom, and flick on the shower. My first thought is to turn the water to ice cold, but a second thought creeps in—one much more appealing. Dex is all wrong. Too young, too innocent, too real. But that doesn’t mean I can’t use her image for a little self-care.

I take off my underwear and step into the shower as steam fills the bathroom. Lowering my head, I grip my dick with one hand, and brace the palm of my other hand against the tiled wall. With the image of Dex fixed in my mind, her hip cocked out to one side as she flays me with her eyes, and lashes me with her tongue, it takes less than a minute for me to climax. I groan, my body trembling as pulse after pulse of cum spurts onto my hand before the torrent of water washes it down the drain.

After switching off the shower, I curse. Instead of feeling sleepy, masturbating has made me amped and horny. I towel off and walk naked back into the bedroom, forcing myself between the sheets when what I really want to do is drive over to Dex’s apartment building, knock on every door until I find the right one, and fuck her until my dick begs me to stop.

But I won’t do that because I actually like her. Not only for the soft place between her legs that my cock would like to get acquainted with, but for her. The woman. The last thing she needs is a man like me in her life. She deserves so much better. For once, I’ll do the selfless thing and leave her alone, even if doing the right thing sucks.

On Saturday evening, my driver drops me off at home. It’s been a long, exhausting week, and my body aches from the action scenes I filmed today. Yet as tired as I feel, the thought of another night alone doesn’t appeal to me. Then again, neither did the offer to go for a drink with the crew. My friends would be happy to keep me company, but I don’t have the energy to put on a show tonight, to pretend I have the perfect life when it’s anything but.

The door to my house closes behind me with a hollow thud, and I head straight for the kitchen, my stomach growling with hunger. Today had been too busy to even fit in lunch, so I open the fridge. Damn. Nothing in. Takeout doesn’t appeal tonight, either. I’m craving something fresh. Healthy. With a curse, I grab my keys and set off for the grocery store.

Too busy daydreaming, I miss the turnoff to my local store, and by the time I’ve realized it, I’m a half hour from home. I manage to spot another store, though it’s not my usual haunt, but it’ll do. I drive into a parking space as far away from the entrance as possible and grab a baseball cap from the glove compartment, making sure to pull it low over my eyes while adding sunglasses, even though it’s dusk. I’ll hardly stick out. In LA, people wear sunglasses everywhere.

Turning the collar up on my jacket, I keep my head down and wander inside. Harassed moms drag screaming children by the hands as they dash down aisles, stuffing their carts with chips, chocolate, and ice cream, probably to buy themselves a few minutes of well-earned peace.

I don’t linger. I go straight to the meat counter at the back of the store. What I want is steak, salad, maybe some mango sorbet, or my favorite… frozen yogurt. Once I have everything in hand, I head for the fast lane at the checkout. The guy in front has twelve items. Can’t the fucker read? Ten items. Ten fucking items. I let out a heavy sigh but resist the urge to call him on it. Bringing attention to myself is the last thing I want. In, out, as fast as possible.

I keep my head bowed while the guy in front packs his things, but when my own items remain stationary on the belt, I lift my head, expecting to see the cashier tapping on her cell or picking her teeth. Anything other than what she’s meant to be doing—serving me.

Instead, my gaze meets an elfin face, high cheekbones, dove-gray eyes surrounded by dark lashes, and that mouth I fantasized about fucking while I’d gotten myself off last night.

Dex.

She stares at me, those plump, rosy lips falling open. Color floods her cheeks, and she wrinkles her forehead, following her confusion up with a slight shake of her head.

“Would you like me to pack for you, sir?” she says, clearly deciding to ignore the fact we know each other.

I glance over my shoulder. There are no customers waiting behind me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask. “Has Bernard fired you again?”

If he has, I’m going to rip him a new asshole.

She shakes her head and begins scanning my items before placing them carefully into a paper bag.

“Then, what’s going on?”

She scans the last item. “That’ll be nineteen thirty-six, sir.” She avoids eye contact, her gaze fixed somewhere around my navel.

Irritated, I lean in. “The only time I like sir as a form of address is in the bedroom, so call me sir again, and I’ll expect a different kind of service from you.”

Dex’s head snaps up, and the look on her face—a hint of delight tinged with anxiety—triggers something in me. It’s time to stop lying to myself. I want her, this girl I don’t know and didn’t give a shit about until a few days ago. Yet now, with the image of her sprawled naked on my bed, mine to tease, to tantalize, to play with as I see fit, my dick hardens.

“What are you doing here?” she whispers.

I give her one of my best ‘what the fuck?’ stares and jerk my chin at the bag she just packed for me. “Shopping. The reason you’re here, though, is much more interesting.”

She shrugs. “We’re not all mega-rich stars with houses in Malibu and infinity pools overlooking the ocean.”

I bark a laugh. If only she knew that living in one of those places is my worst fucking nightmare. “Correct. We’re not.”

She narrows her eyes, but when I stare her down, she relents. “I need the extra money.”

“Why?”

I’d seen her apartment building. It wasn’t situated in the best part of town, but not in the worst, either. She should be able to more than afford the rent with what Bernard is paying her, even before the raise I forced him into. Why the need to take an extra job? She must be exhausted.

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