“Yeah,” I agree.
“You feel weird now, titch?”
I turn my head and stare into the darkness, waiting for my eyes to adjust so I can make him out. “A little.”
“Just so you know…I told Hud after your first week I didn’t want you at my shoots.”
My pulse slowly hammers in my chest. “Why?”
“I just didn’t want you to see me doing that shit.”
“Thanks,” I whisper. For some reason, that hits me hard. I thought he didn’t care, I thought it didn’t bother him, but I was wrong.
I hear him shift in bed, then I see his silhouette as he makes his way toward my bed. The mattress dips when he crawls in next to me.
“What are you doing, Tyler?”
He drags in a heavy breath and then I feel his hand caresses the side of my face. “Pretending my life’s the way it should be,” he says before kissing me.
Our lips move against each other so gently, his tongue barely brushing against mine as he draws my face closer to his. This kiss makes me question my decision to not be with him. It’s the kind of kiss you see in movies; so perfect it can’t be real. Emotions well inside my chest, my heart slams against my ribs, and everything inside of me is screaming that no matter what, he is who I belong with.
I give into him. I give into him hard.
Within moments, we’re both undressed, and he’s kissing all over my body, slowly, tentatively.
“I miss this,” he whispers over my stomach. “I miss you.”
My legs fall apart, and he settles between my thighs. He pushes into me. The feeling of him inside of me forces a sex-laced moan from my lips. I lose myself in this moment, forgetting how horrible this is for my heart.
He sinks deeper inside of me, kissing my lips again before his pace picks up.
“I love you,” he says against my mouth. It’s like I can’t breathe, can’t think. All I can do is feel him inside me, over me.
“I love you too.” Those words fall from my lips too easily.
“Fuck, I love you.”
Heat drowns my body as my muscles stiffen then release. My skin buzzes as waves of intense pleasure crash through me.
“I love you, Jemma,” he says, quickening his pace. Within seconds, he’s gone rigid on top of me, my nails are embedded in his hard shoulders, and we’re both moaning. He collapses on top of me, and we lie here, breathless and holding each other, pretending this is a life we could have.
I wake to an empty bed. I sit up and wince from how sore I am.Shit.Did that really happen? I swore to myself from the moment I watched him plow through Brandi, I would never touch his nasty dick again. Yet here I lay on crumpled sheets with a sore vagina. And I fucked him bareback. Great. Winning at life right about now.
Flopping back down on the bed, I groan before dragging my hands down my face. Shame doesn’t even touch this. Honestly, I’d feel better about this if Tyler were just some random porn star, but he’s not. I’m actually in love with him and—Oh, my God. Did we really tell each other we loved one another? Fuck, this could not possibly have become messier.
My phone dings and I grab it from the nightstand and read over the text from Heather.
You fucked him, didn’t you?
God, yes. I feel so dirty.
Meh. Not the worst that could happen. Sometimes we have to take our diamonds with a little shit on them.
What?
Basically, nothing’s ever perfect, Jemma.
I don’t respond to her because she’s supposed to be my rock in situations like this. Heather is my fucked up voice of reason and telling me nothing’s ever perfect—that dating a porn star isn’t the worst that could happen—well, that’s not helping me right now.