Page 30 of Stuck with the Billionaire Celebrity

The worst part is, usually, I can control my urges when it comes to a woman teasing and playing with me, regardless of what she’s saying or doing.

The pull between us is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

I could’ve stopped at any point. Ishouldhave stopped. I could’ve walked away. But no. Instead, I gave in. I gave in to everything I’ve been feeling since the first moment I saw her. I let all of it out.

I grip the back of a chair, my knuckles white from the pressure, and stare at the door. She’s on the other side. Probably confused. Hurt. Angry. Hell, she should be all those things.

I overreacted and I know that, but there’s no turning back now.

The memory of Alexia floods back, and my stomach twists. I swore after her that I wouldn’t allow anyone in my home again.

Not like that.

Not in a way that could be misinterpreted, misused, twisted into some sick story for the tabloids.

Not after what she did to me.

I had been careful with Alexia. Polite but distant. Professional. I really was just trying to be helpful to a woman whom I thought needed help, needed a man to be kind to her and give her a hand up.

She took it the wrong way and developed a crush and when I turned her down, she lost it. She wanted more.

And when I didn’t give it to her, she told the world I had harassed her.

Made up stories, fabricated lies about how I had cornered her, pressured her, made her feel unsafe.

She had told some crazy stories, and the more that I didn’t react publicly to him, the wilder they got.

She made me out to be a monster.

I lost everything for a while. My reputation, my projects. Every producer suddenly had “scheduling conflicts,” every director “decided to go in a different direction.”

No one wanted to touch me, not with the rumors swirling around, not when Alexia made sure the media ate up every word she said.

I was labeled dangerous, predatory. And even though I was innocent, even though nothing she said was true, the stain stuck.

It took years to claw my way back. To prove that none of it had happened, to clear my name. Devon helped tremendously with it.

But it’s still there, lingering in the shadows, waiting to resurface at the slightest provocation.

And now if Grace says anything… if she feels uncomfortable, unsafe, or worse—violated—I’ll be finished. Hollywood’s unforgiving like that. Even the hint of impropriety and you can be blacklisted, erased.

No one will want to work with me, and I’ll be back to square one, but worse.

Because this time, I reallydidcross the line.

I groan and sit back down on the bed, my hands clenched in my lap. The memory of Alexia gnaws at me, but it’s not about her anymore. It’s about Grace.

I shouldn’t have crossed the line with her. I shouldn’t have put myself in that position.

She didn’t say no, I mean, she was clearly into it. It was a blur—one second we were talking, the next… I don’t even know how it happened.

I kissed her, and once I did, there was no going back. My mind went blank, instincts took over, and I let it happen.

I’ve never felt that connected to a woman before.

I’ve never felt so primal with a woman before, but Grace brought it all out of me.

I can still feel the heat of her body pressed against mine, the taste of her lips.

---