Comfort Object (26 page)

“Someone is posing as her and blogging about your life together, for whatever reason. Some of the posts are explicit. Imaginative.”

I looked up at him in alarm.

“Not that imaginative. It's not someone who knows what she is to you. But someone is making stuff up that's pretty racy. Not to mention defamatory to Nell. This writer paints her as a gold digger, and someone who's using you for sex. Ironic,” he added with a smirk.

“It's not funny. I'm not laughing.”

“No, I agree, it's not funny. That's why I wanted you to see it right away. It not only reflects badly on her if people buy into this, it reflects badly on you.”

“Why? Why would someone do this?”

Kyle shrugged. “I dunno. Jealousy. Sour grapes. Boredom. Overactive imagination. You know how some of the fans get.”

I stared at the computer screen. “Fuck.” The elusive peace, the satisfaction and calm I'd felt after my scene with Nell came crashing down. “What the fuck? Why are people so idiotic? This person has to stop. This has to come down. Call Martin and see what we can do about this.”

“I already have, but I had to leave a message. I'll try again in the morning.”

“Let him know I want this taken down. Full press. Whatever has to be done.”

“I will.”

“And don't tell her about this. She's already—” I waved my hand. “She's not handling the exposure very well.”

“Isn't she?” Kyle looked at me and waited. “Do you…? Should I…? Do you want to—”

“No. I'll handle it.”

“I never even considered… She didn't seem that shy the night I met her, not the way she is now. If I had known—”

“She's not shy; she's just freaked-out a little. We'll handle it, like I said. Jesus, I worked too hard to get her here to let her go now.”

“I'm glad to hear it's working out,” he said. He looked at me again, an assessing look that annoyed me.

“Anything else?” I asked.

He looked up, and I followed his gaze to where Nell stood in the shadow of the door.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi, Kyle.”

Nell frowned at him the way she always did, but Kyle… I was trying to understand the look on his face. I sobered when I placed it. Reluctant infatuation. His eyes returned to mine.

“That's all I wanted to show you,” Kyle said then, closing his laptop. “I'll leave you alone. I'm sure you're both tired,” he added with a barely concealed smirk.

Disrespectful little fuck. He had a smirk for every situation. After the door closed, I turned to Nell, who still stood watching me warily from the doorway.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

I tried not to let my uneasiness show. “Everything's fine. Just some nutjob fan—”

I stopped talking as alarm washed across her features.

“It's nothing, Nell. It goes on all the time.”

“There are a lot of them out there, I guess. Crazy fans.”

“Yes. But you're not to worry about it. It's not your problem.”
Not if I don't tell you about it
. I looked at her, the girl I'd made so vulnerable. What was this novel emotion I was feeling? Guilt? “Look, would you like to sit and have a beer with me before bed?”

“I can't drink a beer before bed. I'm sorry. I don't have your magic metabolism. That reminds me. Do they have yoga classes here, do you think?”

“If you need a yoga class, you'll have one. I'll tell Kyle.”

“I can try to find one myself—”

“Kyle will help you,” I insisted. “I know you aren't crazy about each other, but I trust him to do what I want him to do, and that includes looking after you. There's a great gym here too, downstairs. Just tell Kyle when you want to go, and he'll take you. I don't want you going anywhere alone.”

The last part slipped out, and the alarm was back again.

“Why can't I go alone if it's in the hotel?”

“Because I don't want you to. Don't question me, okay?”

She gave me a long, probing look. I tried to exude utter nonchalance.

“Okay,” she finally conceded. “Anyway, I'll sit with you if you like, but I'll just drink some water instead of a beer.”

She was leaning against the door in her sexy, transparent pajamas, trying to look awake for my benefit.

“No, go to bed,” I said. “But come kiss me first.”

She crossed to me as if it might be a trick, as if it weren't possible that all I wanted was a kiss. I drew her into my lap when she was close enough. I ran my hands down her arms, then encircled her tiny waist and pulled her close. I lowered my lips to hers, kissing her softly, gently. She curled into me, pressed against me, open, relaxed, available, sweet.

She smelled clean from the shower and tasted like toothpaste. My fresh, minty girl. I felt dirty and despicable in contrast for what I was doing to her, the freaks and nuts I was exposing her to.

But I need her.

I deepened the kiss, then pulled away just as quickly. I nudged her off my lap.

“Okay, then. Well, good night. I have to look over some lines anyway. I don't want to keep you up.”

“Okay. Good night, Jeremy.”

I watched her cross to her room and close the door behind her after one last shy glance at me. Kyle's news might have ultimately ruined the evening, but it had still been a success because of that look she gave me. Because of the kiss.

For the first time she hadn't tensed or held herself away. Intimacy bred intimacy, I thought, even if the intimacy was the basely sexual kind. Perhaps
especially
if the intimacy was the basely sexual kind. Things would go a lot easier when she felt more relaxed around me. She'd grow more confident and lose the fear of the photographers and fans. That was the hope anyway, that we would find a symbiosis that benefited us both.

The blogger, though, that was troublesome. Ah well. Until I could speak to Martin, I would try to put it out of my mind.

I looked over lines instead, and when I had a pretty good handle on them, I stood up to drag myself to bed.

To my bed? No.

Without thinking about it, I headed to hers. I pulled the covers down and pulled her close to me roughly, not caring if I woke her. I needed her body against mine.

Maybe I'd ask her from now on to sleep in my bed. Nightly cuddle time. Why not, if that was what I wanted?

She was mine to do with as I pleased.

Routines

I loved the mornings. Well, I actually had two mornings in my life as Jeremy's paid companion. I had the morning before dawn when Jeremy woke me up to fuck me, and the second morning, when I woke later, alone.

The first morning was okay. It was nice actually. Before the end of the first week, Jeremy had decided that while we would keep separate rooms, I was to sleep in his bed, and the morning sex began soon after that.

I was a snuggler, so I had no problem with sleeping in his bed. I loved curling up next to him. The best nights were the nights after a long, intense scene when he'd clasp me close in his arms, and I'd feel my sore, naked ass rubbing against the scratchy hair of his muscular upper thighs.

Then in the morning, always, he woke up hard. He was ridiculously randy for a man his age. If he had to work, he'd nudge into me from behind and fuck me quick and dirty. By this point we'd had follow-up blood tests, so there was no fumbling around with condoms. If it was a weekend morning, or if he had a late report time to the set, he would take more time, demand more adventurous things. Blowjobs, ass fucking, violating me with some kinky new toy while I masturbated him. One blessed morning, I woke up to him lapping avidly between my legs.

But when he had work, he left, and most mornings I stayed in bed a few more hours, just luxuriating in the soft, fragrant sheets and the quiet of the empty hotel room, drifting in and out of sleep. I felt like a treasured concubine, utterly relaxed and still humming from morning sex. I had nothing to do, no job but to pamper myself and read or relax until he returned. Not that I did that. Eventually I rolled out of bed to hit the gym or the salon or the yoga studio, with Kyle tagging reluctantly along.

Kyle, that stupid, jerky, gorgeous man. He made a big fuss complaining, to me, never Jeremy, about how he had to drag me all over town. Of course he had no problem tagging along when Jeremy felt like having group sex. He was more than happy to hang out with me then.

The first time Kyle had joined us for sex, we'd been at the set and driven back to the hotel together. Kyle didn't normally come back with us, but this day, he took a seat beside the driver in the front of the black sedan. Jeremy had looked down at me and said, “Kyle is coming back with us to the room.”

I looked up at the back of the driver's head. Was he listening? I knew what went on in Jeremy's bedroom was a secret. Of course, to the uninterested party, the fact that Kyle was coming back with us to the room could have signified anything. Dinner, a meeting, documents to sign. But I knew that wasn't why.

Of course, Kyle had already known, already been told that his services would be required tonight in playing with me. I hated myself for the sudden rush of heat between my legs. Jeremy shifted beside me, smiling. Of course Jeremy, of all people, would know that I was turned on by the idea. As much as I despised Kyle, I was excited by the idea of being used by two men at once like the sex toy I was paid to be.

At the same time I was nervous. I mean, I was no stranger at all to the subtleties of the ménage à trois, but I wasn't completely sure yet what the dynamic was going to be. Was Kyle only a voyeur for Jeremy's pleasure, or something more? I hadn't quite pinned it down yet.

Jeremy still seemed totally straight to me, but Kyle… I didn't know. I still caught the occasional jealous glance that I really didn't understand. A kind of baleful stare. As it turns out, I was to be the only focus of our sexual romps together, and the only thing they shared. If Kyle wanted Jeremy—and I suspected he did—then he made no outward overtures to him.