The Consequence of Seduction (Consequence 3)

“That too.”

“Reid—”

“Fine.” He rubbed his hands together. “No stalling. Go.”

I forced a smile and hit the “Record” button on my MacBook Pro. My voice was all business. “Dating advice from one of Hollywood’s hottest stars—you girls ready? You guys have pens?”

“Jordan.” Reid shook his head. “Don’t use the fake voice. The fake voice sounds fake.”

“Fine.” I deleted and tried again, clearing my throat. “Hey, guys and gals, welcome to—”

Reid hit “Stop.” “What the hell was that?”

“What?” I pushed his hand away from the mouse pad. “I’m a business professional, not a cruise director! What do you want from me?”

“Smile!” He pointed at his own smile. “And don’t look so upset to be sitting next to me.”

I tucked my hair behind my ears and straightened in my seat.

Reid looked down. “Why the hell are you still wearing work clothes?”

“Because this”—I pointed to the computer—“this is work. This is my job. You’re my job.”

“Funny.” He leaned in, his lips inches from mine. “I thought I was the tamer . . .” His lips hovered as he reached around me and hit the “Record” button. Chest heaving, I waited for him to move away; instead he pressed his body against mine. “Boys, pay attention.” He didn’t look at the camera. “This, this right here is what you want. You want to be in a position where you’re stalking your prey.”

“Ha.” I snorted. “Girls, write this down—if a man calls you prey, run, very fast.”

“Do it.” Reid laughed, his lips tickling my neck. “Isn’t that right, men? What’s the fun in chasing if the antelope doesn’t even run?”

“So now we’re antelope?”

“I could have said you were a warthog.”

“Aw, so sweet.” I ignored the way Reid pinned himself over my body and glanced at the computer screen. “So apparently we’re doing a segment on what not to do on a date. Name calling? Probably a bad idea unless you want to get punched in the face.”

“You mean you don’t like it when I call you Muffin Butt?” Reid feigned a hurt expression. “You know the only reason I call you that is because you fed me muffins in bed after the first time we had sex.”

WHAT? I let out a self-conscious laugh. “We’ve never had sex.” I shook my head vigorously at the computer.

“You were there.” Reid nodded innocently. “I mean, I know I take you to places you’ve never been before, but like, not literally.” He winked.

“I’m going to kill you!” I shoved at his chest. “Take this seriously! I knew we shouldn’t have done shots!”

He quickly grabbed my hands and pinned me onto the couch. “Men, pay attention. This is my favorite part. Foreplay.”

“Touch me with any part of your body and I’m cutting it off!”

He ignored me. “Women are timid, like birds, and a lot of times they don’t mean what they say. Take, for example, the heavy breathing coming from my lady friend.”

“Not breathing heavy!” I lied and tried to hold my breath.

“Witty banter.” He shrugged. “A bit of violence.” He dipped his mouth to my neck. “And, oh, look, there it is.”

“What? Where’s what?”

“Your tell.”

“I have no tell. Get. Off!”

Reid’s cursed aqua eyes were like homing beacons. When this was over with, I was going to make him wear sunglasses over those laser beams. “You do.”

“Do not.” I bucked beneath him.

He cupped my chin, and my very treacherous body moved.

“There it is again.”

“I’m not doing anything!” I squeezed my eyes shut.

“The arch,” he said, then ran his hand down my side, his fingers moving to my back. “She arches . . . because no matter what insanity may be coming from that sexy little mouth of hers—her body still responds.”

He kissed my cheek.

I told my body not to react.

Arch.

“Stop it!”

He kissed me again.

And another arch. Freaking men! “Reid . . . this is . . . assault.”

He jumped off me and hit “Stop” on the camera. “So, I think that went well.”

“No,” I huffed. “Not well. We’re doing it again and sticking to the script I wrote out for both of us!”

“Script? That’s for movies—this is life.”

“The hell it is! This is my job!”

“Mine too!” His voice rose an octave. “And people will like this a hell of a lot better than the shit you write out.” He grabbed my notepad. “Tell him he looks nice.”

“Give me that!”

He held it high above his head. “Compliment his shoes?”

“It works!” I argued, still trying to grab the notepad away.

“If you’re gay!”

“Lots of straight men respond to that compliment!”

“Because they think if they say thank you they can get in your pants! Damn, are you really this dense?”

I finally wrenched my notepad free and slapped him with it. “Are you really this childish?”