Wardrobe Malfunction (Wardrobe #1)

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” He chuckles. “Great night, West. Thanks for the ride.” He slings an arm around me, giving me a guy hug. “Love you, man,” he slurs, patting my back before letting go.

Gabe always gets affectionate when he’s drunk. It’s usually funny. Right now, I just want him out of my fucking car, so I can get back to Charly and screw her brains out.

“Sleep it off, man.” I laugh, shoving him in the direction of the open car door.

He stumbles out, glass still in hand. He rights himself on the pavement. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, which isn’t much!” He laughs at his own joke, stumbling slightly.

I shake my head at him, laughing. Honestly, at this moment in time, I don’t give a shit if he does know I’m going back to Charly. I just want to go.

“Get to bed, and sleep it off,” I say to him. “Make sure he gets inside all right,” I tell his doorman, who is standing outside, holding the door open for Gabe.

“Will do, Mr. West. Come on, Mr. Evans, let’s get you to your apartment.”

I shut the limo door to the sound of Gabe singing Lukas Graham’s “7 Years” loudly. His neighbors must fucking love him.

“Back to Charly’s hotel,” I tell Aiden. “And drive fast.”

“Will do.” He chuckles.

He pulls off, the tires squealing as he slams on the gas.

It takes for-fucking-ever to get there.

I swear to God, we hit every red light. It’s like someone is out to torture me.

I’m climbing the limo walls by the time we finally pull up at her hotel.

“Pick me up at eight a.m.,” I tell Aiden.

He hands me my ball cap. Pulling it on, I’m out of the limo the second it stops.

Then, I’m jogging—I’m fucking jogging—through the hotel and up the steps and along the corridor to her hotel room.

I’ve never needed to be inside someone as much as I do her.

I don’t know what the fuck she’s done to me, but I like it. A lot.

Then, I’m knocking on her door. Fucking finally!

I wait a few seconds, and then the door pulls open.

And there she is.

Standing there, looking like a fucking goddess.

A leather-boot-wearing goddess.

My mouth waters as I take her in.

“I thought you were never going to get here,” she says.

I grip ahold of the doorframe, restraining myself from pouncing on her. “Me neither. I was ready to commit murder if it meant getting back here sooner.”

She laughs, and my cock stands up to attention. Not that he wasn’t already paying attention at the sight of her in those goddamn boots and sexy red lacy underwear.

She’s like every man’s fantasy.

She’s my fantasy.

And she’s about to become my reality.

“Babe, not that you don’t look sexy as fuck, but I believe I expressly said, boots only.”

Fighting a smile, she lifts her chin, and with those vixen eyes fixed on mine, she unclips the bra, slides it down her arms, and throws it to the floor. Then, she hooks her fingers into the elastic of the panties and pulls them down her hips and over her boots before kicking them aside.

Her hands go to her hips. “Better?”

She’s standing there in nothing but those boots. The hotel door is still open. Anyone could see her, and she doesn’t give a fuck.

Her liberty is intoxicating.

I want to inhale it. Snort it…her into my lungs and breathe her for the rest of my life.

“Almost,” I growl. I stride through the door, slamming it shut behind me. I pick her up, loving the feel of those boot-covered legs going around my waist. “Now, it’s better.”

Then, I kiss her like I’ve wanted to kiss her all night. Hard and deep.

Charly

These last few weeks have gone by in a blur of laughter, fun, and sex with Vaughn. It’s been amazing.

We spend evenings watching movies and eating room service. And I’ve just started watching Julian’s show with Vaughn. But we don’t spend every evening together. Sometimes, we’re on the film set until late. Other times, Vaughn has dinner with Brandon and Natasha, or he goes for drinks with Gabriel and Julian. Some evenings, I go out with Ava and Logan or just Ava. We go out for dinner or to the movies or just out for drinks.

But, at the end of every night, Vaughn and I end up in bed together.

We haven’t spent a night apart since the first night we slept together.

We generally always spend the night at my hotel. It’s less likely that we’ll get spotted. It’s more likely that people—hotel staff—would notice if I kept frequenting Vaughn’s room. He can slip from here, going unnoticed.

I don’t really know what it means. Or what’s happening between us.

I mean, I don’t think we’re dating because we can’t exactly go out on a date together, which does make me a little frustrated at times. But it also works for me, too, because I can’t have the press delving into my personal life right now.

And, because I don’t really know what Vaughn and I are doing, where we’re heading—if anywhere at all—I can’t have my life upended.

We might not be dating, but I figure we’re fuck buddies, and I think we’re exclusive. Well, I hope we’re exclusive. I don’t think he’s seeing anyone else, and the fact that he ends every night in my bed tells me the same.