My approach ends up being fairly simple.I avoid speaking with Orlando the rest of the day. Avoid even looking at him. As far as I'm concerned for the time being, he doesn't even exist.But I'm overly friendly with everyone else. I chat with the crew, even if it's just asking about how certain pieces of equipment work. Between takes, I talk to Omar and Christian. Omar seems more interested in his phone than in holding a conversation, but Christian is willing to speak with me. He throws a few wary glances toward Orlando the first time, but to my disappointment - and Christian's obvious relief - our director isn't intending to charge over here every time a man talks to me, despite his earlier behavior.Damn it, I think as Christian tells me about some upcoming project he's excited about. I was hoping this would be enough. It's really, really hard not to look around for Orlando, to see if he's watching us. It would be encouraging if he were glaring or something.As the day wears on, t
That isn't the last time Orlando and I speak on the phone. He starts calling me every night after filming wraps up for the day. We talk about everything - our favorite books, favorite foods, favorite music. I learn that Orlando is a surprisingly good swimmer, and that he takes camping trips up in Northern California a few times a year. I tell him about my acting debut in Peter Pan and confess that I don't know how to ride a bicycle.More than once, I find myself thinking about what Christian said about Orlando being two different people. He laughs so often during our calls that I'm beginning to wonder how he could ever turn off that humor, even at work. His intensity is still there, though. Every so often he'll say something that launches a surge of heat through me, and my body sends me constant reminders of how much I want him. I start having some pretty wild dreams about him after those calls - dreams that leave me panting and dizzy when I wake in the morning.Sadly, the day I fina
"Incoming call," Orlando growls. "Hold on, let me reject it." A couple of seconds later, he sounds much better. "Now, where were we?""You were telling me to keep touching myself," I say."Oh, yes. Keep touching yourself, but imagine it's me there instead. It's me caressing you between your legs. Me sliding my finger in and out of you. Me massaging your clit with my thumb."I moan again. Imagining him anywhere near me intensifies everything a hundred times. I've never felt anything like this before. He's not even touching me, and I'm falling apart."But I'd do more than that," he says, his voice so raw it's almost unrecognizable. "If I were that close to you, I wouldn't be able to resist leaning down and having a taste. I'd lick you from your clit all the way down to your - "I cry out in pleasure as my climax overtakes me. It comes on so fast, so suddenly, that I don't have time to warn him, let alone try to stop it. All I can do is ride out the pleasure. I buck against the bed,
Apparently, I overestimated my packing abilities when I told Orlando I could be done in half an hour. When the car pulls up the following morning at five-thirty on the dot, I'm still frantically shoving clothes and shoes into my rolling suitcase. I only remember my toiletries bag as I'm rushing out the door, but I guess that's better than forgetting it altogether. Early flights are the work of the devil. Still, as exhausted and frazzled as I am, it's impossible to be in a bad mood. I'm going to L.A. with Orlando, and that's all that matters. Most people would probably call me crazy - and they'd be right. We've only known each other a couple of weeks. Not to mention the fact that he's a celebrity, and we both know he can do much better than me. He'll probably dump me the first time some gorgeous young supermodel bats her eyelashes in his direction. But I can't resist the pull of him. I have to see this through, one way or another. Even if I end up with my heart broken.I'm nearly to
I just stare at him. He can't actually be serious.As he continues looking at me, though, that devilish gleam in his eye never fading, I know he's not just pulling my leg."So I guess it doesn't matter that I haven't received my final paycheck?" I ask him."Circumstances have changed." There's a flash of pain in his eyes that he quickly suppresses. "And either way, everyone knows that anything that happens at thirty thousand feet doesn't really count.""Ah," I say. Maybe there's more than one way I can comfort him after all. If Orlando wants to use me to distract himself from his concern over his father, then I won't refuse. And now that the initial shock of his suggestion has worn off, I find myself intrigued by the idea.I sit back in my seat and sip at my mimosa, trying to look relaxed and nonchalant. I can't believe I'm actually considering this. Orlando's eyes are still on me, sending little frissons of pleasure through me, and I try to keep my blush from spreading down to my
It's like I've let a wild animal off his leash. His mouth falls on mine, capturing me completely, and his hand moves deeper between my legs, the tip of his finger sliding inside me. I can only open my legs so wide in this tiny lavatory - and with my jeans around my knees besides - but otherwise that finger slips easily inside, my body eager to welcome him.He only teases me for a moment before pulling abruptly away. Then he grabs me by the arms and twists me around so that I'm facing the mirror. My hands fly up to brace me, and his hand slips between my legs again, this time from behind."Much better," he breathes against my hair. "When we get to L.A. I'm going to have you a hundred different ways, but right here, this might be the only way I can bury myself as deep as I want to inside of you."He leans down slightly, fumbling with his jeans, and a couple of seconds later he straightens holding a condom. He rips the package open with his teeth before sliding the protection over his
When Orlando asked me to come to L.A., I never stopped to consider any of the logistics. I guess that's what happens when you think with your body and not your head, when you let yourself get caught up in exciting fantasies rather than reality. Maybe I can blame the grogginess I still feel after my nap on our flight, but it's not until our cab pulls into a long driveway that I realize where we're going."This is your house?" I ask, peering out the window. Orlando pushes a button on his keys to open the big, arching gates. Beyond that is a huge white house with fluted columns and an attached carriage house.Talk about living the dream.There are houses like this in some of the fancier corners of Atlanta, but something about the big California sky and swaying palm trees just completes the picture. There isn't much of a lawn to speak of - not in the way you see lawns in Atlanta, anyway - but the grounds are still substantial. Rock gardens, flowering cacti, and succulents are arranged b
Awkwardly flapping my arms, I manage to twist around and get my feet under me again. When I turn, there's a man standing on the edge of the pool. A man I recognize."You're Dante Fontaine," I say.He looks exactly like he does in the tabloids - tall, dark, and handsome, with a perfect square jaw and eyes that remind me so much of Orlando's. He's always had a reputation for being serious, even brooding, and at a glance I can tell that the rumors are true. He looks like a man who means business, and he shares something of Orlando's intensity. But while Orlando's fierce nature is born of a deep passion for what he does, Dante strikes me more as a man whose intensity comes from a need to be in control of every situation - or perhaps I'm just projecting my ideas of how an oldest sibling must think and behave. He certainly looks like he's ready to do anything on behalf of his youngest brother."You'll leave this property at once," he says, not even bothering to confirm his identity. "Or I
Sometimes small choices can have a huge impact on your life.Now, almost a year after I first set foot on the set of Death and Deadly Night, I'm standing with Orlando on the red carpet at the premiere. I'm wearing the most beautiful dress I've ever seen, a shimmery gown with dark silver accents, and my hair has been styled into cascading waves that hang down over my shoulder. I have no idea what I'm doing - there are so many lights, so many people shouting - but as long as Orlando's arm is around my waist, I don't care. I can face anything.Orlando is nervous. He doesn't show it, not on the surface, but I've learned to read him quite well. He doesn't have any reason to worry, though. Death and Deadly Night is brilliant. Some might even call it a masterpiece. I have complete faith that the critics and the rest of the world will finally see Orlando for the genius he is, and he can finally move out of the shadow of his family.Not that I don't love his family, of course. They've all co
Despite the fact that I've slept a number of nights by Orlando's side, I've never gotten a good look at him asleep before. With that loose, tousled hair, he looks almost angelic, but I know that the moment he opens his eyes again, that devilish spark will be back.Repositioning myself in my uncomfortable plastic chair, I prop my notebook on my lap. I've sketched half a dozen different pictures of him over the last half hour. It's tricky to hold the pen with these thick bandages on my palms, but I'm starting to get the hang of it. And Orlando is much easier to draw when his eyes are closed. In this latest doodle, I've even included some of the complicated machines on the far side of his hospital bed, even though only one of them is currently hooked up to him.I'm adding some shading when his voice rises from the bed. "Now I know how my actors feel."I glance up. "Huh?"Orlando smiles. "The way you're studying me from all angles. I imagine that's how my actors feel when I have them i
I just want to go home, slip on my yoga pants, climb into bed, and stay there for days.I glance around the waiting room as I walk through. There are a few more people here now, a few more people who understand the agonizing but monotonous torture of having a loved one in the hospital. The man with the hat and the popped collar looks up as I pass, but otherwise no one pays me any attention.A bright blue sky greets me as I step outside, and a warm breeze sweeps playfully across the parking lot, but neither one can lift my mood. I want to cry again, to sink down onto my knees and weep until all my tears have dried up.I also want to call Orlando, to hear his voice one more time. To tell him I made his father laugh.There's a footstep behind me."I was hoping for Orlando, but you'll do just as well."Throat clenching, I spin around. The man from the waiting room - the one with the cap and the collar - is standing there, and as he lifts the brim of his hat, my eyes go right to the r
Okay, so coming to the hospital might be mistake number 2,152 I've made since Orlando walked into my life. I thought I was ready for this. I thought I was strong enough to handle whatever I learned today. But I wasn't prepared for the sudden rush of emotion I feel when we walk through the automatic sliding doors into the hospital lobby. I've spent a lot of time in hospitals these past few years. I should have known better.As Rafe and Edie sign us in, my gaze wanders over the people in the waiting room. In one corner, a woman knits while two small children play with a plastic puzzle at her feet. Several chairs away, an elderly couple sits hand-in-hand, the man looking on the verge of tears. Against the far wall, another man sits with his cap pulled down over his eyes and his shirt collar popped up. He looks like he wants to sink right into the wall.All these people are here waiting for a loved one, waiting for news. I know exactly how they feel. Guilt swells in my belly when I think
Thankfully, the GPS system in Rafe and Edie's sedan already has Orlando's address programmed in. Before long, I'm cruising through the streets of L.A. toward his house.I have no idea what I'm going to say to him when I see him. But I'll figure it out when I get there. I just want to see him again.My palms are sweaty on the steering wheel, but I tighten my grip and pretend not to notice. Not even my overactive sweat glands can distract me tonight.When I pull into Orlando's house, I hit a bit of a snag - I don't know the code to his gate. Any grand plans I had to waltz into his house and surprise him with a big romantic gesture are effectively thwarted, but I'm not about to turn back now.I lean out the window and press the button on the call box.It takes a moment for him to respond."Hello?" he sounds confused. I guess it is closing in on midnight."Hey," I say into the speaker. "It's me.""Maggie." His voice is much more alert now."I want to talk," I tell him. "Can I come
Half an hour later, I find myself walking into Rafe and Edie's house, my head throbbing with tears I refuse to cry. Rafe takes the baby, and Edie gestures for me to follow her.What am I doing? I ask myself as Edie leads me upstairs to one of the guest rooms. I don't even know these people. I never should have accepted their offer of hospitality. They were just trying to be polite.But that's not the only regret bouncing around in my head. I just walked away from Orlando Fontaine. Girls like me don't usually get the chance to be with guys like him, under any circumstances. I should have been grateful he even looked at me twice. I should have reveled in the time we had together, for however long it took for him to get tired of me. He's mind-numbingly hot, astonishingly talented, and he knows how to do things in bed that I'd never even imagined before. So what if he doesn't love me? Half a relationship with Orlando might still have been better than no relationship at all.Edie shows m
Orlando twists around. Just outside his window stands a big, muscled guy with a closely shaved head and a dark line of stubble along his jaw. At first glance, he's terrifying - but then I get a better look at his face. It's the only one of Orlando's brothers I haven't met yet - Raphael, or Rafe, as he's more commonly known."Everything okay in there?" Rafe says through the window. His voice is so deep it's almost startling."We're fine," Orlando says back. He glances over at me. Whatever he had left to say to me, it clearly isn't going to happen now.I flick open the lock and open the car door, climbing out. And that's when I see that Rafe isn't the only person standing in the driveway - there's also a pretty, friendly faced woman with a baby in her arms."What are you doing here?" Orlando demands of his brother as he gets out of the car."Did you forget?" Rafe says. "You said I could get those movies for our father. Edie and I are heading over to the hospital first thing tomorrow
I stride over to the bathroom door and unlock it, then hurry out into the restaurant. My dress is still partway unzipped, but I can't bring myself to care. I want to get out of here, to find a place to be alone and figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do now.He doesn't love me. That knowledge burns deeper into my heart with every step I take. I love him, but he doesn't love me. Even though I told myself a hundred times this was coming, even though I warned myself from the beginning that my crush would never be returned, not in the way I wanted, it feels like someone has torn my heart out.Something tugs at my foot, nearly tripping me, and when I look down I see that my thong is caught around my ankle, tangled partway around the heel of my shoe. And that one of the bands of elastic has caught on the edge of a table leg."Maggie!"Orlando's voice carries across the restaurant, causing a number of people to look up from their meals.I'm too emotional to listen to him right now.
The moment the words are out of my mouth, my climax hits. I go tumbling off the cliff, falling headfirst into a river of sensations so deep I can't remember which way is up. Within seconds, Orlando groans against my throat, pinning me hard against the chair as he finds his release.We both stay there for several long moments, just trying to catch our breath. My skin is dewy with perspiration, and several large beads of sweat roll down my back, but for once, I don't mind. I don't even care that large patches of my hair cling damply to my throat.With a contented sigh, I let myself lean against the back of the chair. Orlando reaches down and pulls up his pants, then takes a seat on one of the lower stacks of chairs nearby.I rub my eyes, feeling exhausted. "That was...hot."He chuckles, and he sounds just as tired as I feel. "I agree."There's something strange in his tone, and I open my eyes to slits, peering at him. "Is something wrong?""No," he replies, shifting and reaching do