I shook my head. “No, what was that?” My body raced with electricity. We were alone in the hallway.
His other hand wrapped around my waist, locking against my hip. “So I could have you whenever I want,” he answered.
I saw the devilish gleam in his eye.
“But I thought I was your boss?” I teased.
He brushed his lips over mine, dipping his tongue into my mouth. “Who was the boss last night?” he growled lowly.
My heart beat rapidly. My core twinged with the memory of being taken not once, but twice. Remembering what it felt like to be fucked by both of them, one after the other until my body felt nothing but magical pleasure.
“You,” I answered, knowing I was getting wetter by the second. “And Isaac.”
He nodded. “That’s right.” He brushed the hair from my cheek. “We own you, darlin’.”
“Mmmhmm.” I waited for his mouth again. My lips parted as he kissed me, shoving me against the wall. My back slammed into one of the framed prints, but I didn’t care. I’d lost all reason. Kissing Dylan was everything.
Everything about him was physical and strong. He took what he wanted. There was no hesitation. No doubt in his movements. His tongue stroked mine like a fucking kissing expert.
“Excuse me. Umm…Miss McCade?”
Dylan pressed his forehead to mine. “Fuck that was hot,” he whispered in my ear. He took a step back so I could compose myself.
“Yes?” I was embarrassed we had been caught, but I realized I shouldn’t have been. He was my fiancé, after all.
“It’s time for makeup. We start taping in fifteen.” The assistant held her clipboard to her hip.
“Thank you.”
“You can come with me.” She eyed Dylan. He had turned so she couldn’t see how his hard cock stretched the expensive suit pants he wore. “And Jeannette will be back to find you next.”
“Good to know.”
I waved at him as I followed her around the corner to the makeup chair.
“Sorry about that,” the girl apologized.
“It’s ok. We should have been more professional. I wasn’t thinking.”
She giggled. “If I had a fiancé like that, especially if he were Dylan James, the last thing I would care about was being professional.”
I smiled. She wasn’t completely wrong.
The lights were brighter than I expected. I squinted a few times trying to adjust to the all the angles shining on us.
I took a deep breath. Dylan was laughing with Chantel about some miraculous play he made last season. I knew she didn’t work out of Austin. I was expecting someone with less star power from the network. We were a story, but did we warrant Chantel Morris flying in from New York?
I didn’t know why I felt as if there were an elephant sitting on my chest. The sound tech was fidgeting with the mic he’d attached to inside lining of my dress. He patted it a second time to make sure it was secure.
I realized how comfortable Dylan was in this scenario. He was one of those players that loved the attention he received. He seemed to be able to control his narrative. Even the partying. Despite the women and the drinking—they loved him. Maybe it was why they loved him. He was always comfortable in his own skin. He lived life the way he wanted to without hesitation.
I hoped some of that would rub off on me in this interview. I was out of my element. I tried to look past the glare of the lights. I saw a dark silhouette near the camera. Isaac.
I sighed. He was here. Just like he promised. There was something steadying about his presence. I smiled into the camera’s perimeter, hoping he knew it was for him.
Chantel stopped abruptly. “It’s time? We’re on?”
The producer pointed to us. “We’re counting down, everyone.”