Incentive (Infidelity Universe)

“Really, Collette?” I swallow a furious rush of air and temper my voice. “We were doing so good there, behaving professionally and amicably like grownups. Why did you have to ruin it by being a dick?”

Collette’s shoulders snap back, and a scowl warps her pretty elfin features.

“We’re just trying to help,” Alley says in a bored tone as she adjusts the string of diamonds on her wrist. “You’re not a spring chicken, Laynee, and now you’re divorced. If you don’t upgrade your appearance, you’ll end your career as a tired old maid.”

Outrage spikes through my veins, but the actress in me maintains a regal smile. “If you don’t upgrade your personality, you’ll end your career as a hollow plastic bitch.”

She inhales sharply. “Is that a threat?”

I’d give her a nasty look, but she already has one. “If you think I’m so tired and old, how about you fight me?” I bat my eyelashes and grin. “After the photo shoot, you and I can have a little sparring match and find out how well your implants stand up to my fists.”

A month ago, I would’ve never proposed such a thing. But after training with Decker, I’m confident enough to take on a scrawny skank. Sadly, I don’t think Alley takes my offer seriously.

“You’re insane.” Her attention locks on something across the room, and she clutches Collette’s wrist. “Oh. My. God.”

The trio of women turn toward the sudden activity at the back entrance. Reese and two of my bodyguards veer off to the side, but the women remain fixated on the door and the man who just walked in.

Decker’s sharp gaze scans the crew of people darting around the crowded studio. Dark denim stretches across his powerful thighs and sits low on his hips. A white collared shirt hangs off his shoulders, unbuttoned and exposing a gray undershirt molded around defined pecs. The black studded belt, worn Converse, and tousled hair gives him the rebellious look I find so damn irresistible.

“Who the hell is he?” Alley whispers. “I’ve never seen anything that hot. Jesus.”

“He must be a model.” Collette absently runs a hand over her black hair. “Look at those biceps. And eyes. Dear God, his lips.”

“I don’t know who he is,” Alley says breathlessly. “But I saw him first. He’s mine.”

My molars crash together. It’s going to crush me when he smiles at them. It’ll destroy me if he flirts with them. They’re young and stunning and preening like peacocks in anticipation of his attention. With just one of his roguish winks, he could have all three of them in bed. At the same time.

Except he signed an agreement, and I paid a handsome amount of money for his commitment. He’s stuck with me for eleven more months.

I push down my stupid insecurities and watch him from beneath my lashes as he surveys the room.

His proud posture exudes swagger and sex as he rests his fingertips in the front pockets of his jeans. The catty women beside me aren’t the only ones stunned into speechless ogling. The male crew members stare and give him a wide berth. The female technicians steal glances, their hands fumbling with equipment as they dare another peek.

His complexion is golden from our morning jogs on the trails, and his brown eyes shimmer in the glow of a nearby light modifier. It’s impossible not to stare at him. He’s an erotic work of art, hotter than hot, and he knows it.

His dark eyes pan left to right, and when they lock on me, a wicked grin spreads across his face. I melt against the wall at my back.

Holding my gaze, he heads in my direction, his long-legged strides eating up the distance and sending my pulse into a soaring spiral.

“Holy shit.” Alley straightens in my periphery. “He’s coming this way.”

With each step, his eyes become clearer, more intense, never leaving mine. I can’t breathe or move or look away. I’m utterly gobsmacked by his unwavering focus on me.

“It’s criminal how good-looking he is,” Collette whispers under her breath. “I want to lick him. Every. Hard. Fuckable. Inch.”

A possessive thrill shoots through me. I sleep beside that man every night. I’ve seen the way his naked body flexes as he fucks his hand, and I’ve come all over those delicious lips. Twice.

I might not have been his first choice in a companion, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off me once to check out the women at my side. He could be doing it out of respect for my public image or simply because he likes looking at me. Regardless of the reason, it makes my heart beat a joyful dance against my ribs. He’s gone way past his obligation to make me feel special, attractive, secure. Claimed.

Ten feet away, his gaze breaks from mine to browse my body. It’s an unhurried trip that lingers on my chest, my bare legs, and the short hem of my dress, before returning to my eyes.