The Consequence of Seduction (Consequence 3)

“That you don’t have,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Please?” I held my hands out in front of me. “I’ll beg. I’m not above begging. I’m not one of those guys with pride for days. I will honest-to-God get on my hands and knees in desperation. I love my job. I need this job. And I need to sell that damn kiss.”

Jordan made a choking sound, then jerked her glasses off her face, nearly taking a few stray pieces of frizzy dark hair with her. “Fine. But if this is going to work, I’m going to correct you on where you’re going wrong and what you need to do more, all right?”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

I stared.

She stared back.

“Uh.” Jordan’s face flushed red. “Are you going to do it, or do I need to suddenly grow a pair since yours are MIA?”

I glowered and leaned in, bracing my hands on either side of her body, my chest nearly touching hers as my lips brushed her mouth.

Jordan pulled back. “Weak.”

“Not done,” I said through clenched teeth, then gripped her shoulders. “Just getting started.”

“Wha—”

Our lips fused. She tasted like rich coffee and sugar. Swear it was more about her taste than the way her mouth felt—and it felt hot, soft. Shit, I was going to start panting. My hands moved to her face as I tried a different angle, a different dip with my tongue. Damn, she was tasting better and better.

When I pulled back, Jordan’s face was white as a sheet.

“That bad?” Panic made my voice hoarse.

“Um, I’m not sure I—” Jordan gripped my shirt and launched herself against me, her mouth attacking mine with a ferocity that would have been a little frightening had it not felt so damn good I was ready to sell Max and his firstborn in order to keep experiencing it.

We broke apart. Both out of breath.

“You lied,” Jordan huffed. “You don’t have the sizzle blues, your sizzle is off the charts.”

“Really?” I smiled. “I’m not horrible?”

“In a world full of fives, you’re at least a nine.”

“My shrew just loves her compliments.” I kissed her mouth again—it was instinct. But to be fair, she kissed me back.

And suddenly we were making out like teenagers.

Rocking my damn trailer for the world to see.

I was just about ready to rip that blazer from her curvy body when the door opened.

“Mr. Emory, you’re needed on set.”

Jordan and I broke apart.

Her lipstick had completely disappeared. I’d most likely devoured all traces of it.

“Go get ’em.” She winked, her voice heavy with lust.

I was worried someone was going to have to physically restrain me from jumping on her when a throat cleared. “Mr. Emory. Now.”

I almost gave the PA the finger but knew my publicist, aka the best kisser in the universe, would be pissed.

Besides, what the hell was I doing?

She wasn’t my girlfriend.

Or a real shrew.

Or anything.

She shrugged and picked up her computer like we hadn’t just been ready to rip each other’s clothes off.

Right. I was her job.

I needed to remember that.

A job.

A means to an end.

“Let’s do it.” I slapped the PA on the back and made my way to set.

It took us one take to get the kiss.

“Cut!”

“Damn,” Mona whispered under her breath. “That must have been some girl you were thinking about to get you that hot and bothered.”

“Ha-ha.” I laughed. I had to. Because I wasn’t thinking about just anyone. No, I was thinking about my very off-limits publicist with the crazy hair and an inability to keep it contained.

I was thinking about her coffee stains.

About her tight leather pants.

Her high heels.

And again her hair, it was big enough to need at least two thoughts.

Her lips.

Her soft moans.

“Shit,” I muttered.

“What?” Mona winked. “Problem?”

“Nope!” I lied.

Hell, yes, there was a problem. I was falling for someone who was very much off-limits, someone I needed to NOT screw. My career really did depend on her ability to do a good job.

I gulped.

It would be fine. As long as I remembered it wasn’t real. It was fake. Everything I did with her was fake.

Fake.

Fake.

Fake.

“Huh?” Mona asked.

Shit, I’d said that out loud. “Take.” I licked my lips. “Let’s do another take.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JORDAN

Our kiss had lasted twelve minutes.

It had taken place more than six hours ago.

And my hands were still shaking.

It had taken every ounce of willpower I had not to give his snotty little PA the finger and lock the door to the trailer. It was a bit terrifying how much his kiss affected me, and not in a healthy way.

Not at all.

His kiss made me want to smother him.

In an I love this so much I may end up killing the person who brings me pleasure kind of way.

Terrifying, to say the least.

I was the mama who accidentally sat on her young and smothered them. Yup, that’s me. His kiss made me that desperate, which just proved the point that when this was all over with, I needed to find a nice young man and go on a date.

Reid was supposed to meet me at the restaurant bar. But before that, I needed to give Ren all the details of my publicity plan.