Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 43856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
A literal drawstring.
I always imagined some pervy inventor came up with the idea as he laughed in his lab.
Of course Liam can’t get all that cock in there. Had me up all night searching for the biggest one.
Sighing, I handed my coffee to my assistant, Gissele. “I’ll be right back.”
“Uh. . .” She blinked a few times. “I could do it for you, Rae.”
I knew how big of a Liam fan Gissele was. If she had to adjust his modesty patch, there might be a serious lawsuit triggered with her as the clear aggressor.
“I’ve got it, Gissele.” I smirked. “Just keep my coffee warm and my notes ready.”
Being an intimacy coordinator was equal parts choreography, therapist, and mediator—though nobody ever warned me about the weird in-between moments.
One minute, I’d be explaining the exact angle a kiss should land to look good on camera, and the next, I’d be crouched under a satin sheet, making sure a strategically placed modesty patch didn’t peel off mid-take.
Let’s see what’s up with Mr. Sexy.
Just as I started walking, he got in my way and towered over me. "Morning, sunshine."
“Morning to you, Liam.” I chuckled. “You stay giving me trouble.”
“I swear I’m not trying to, Rae.”
Liam greeted me with his signature devilish grin, the kind that had half of Hollywood's population (and all of its gossip blogs) under his spell.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Alright. Let’s see what you did.”
It wasn’t every day I had to secure a modesty patch on the man People magazine had twice named the Sexiest Man Alive.
Ava sashayed over and pulled her phone out. “Let’s get this scene going, Liam. I have an interview during lunch and it’s going to take forever to get all this blood off me. Plus, it’s Valentine’s Day.”
“Never rush greatness,” Liam replied.
Ava walked off.
Liam undid his robe, letting it slip off his shoulders like he was starring in an Old Spice commercial.
Oh. . .that’s what God gave you?
The rumors were true. His fans would absolutely not be disappointed. In fact, they’d probably cry tears of joy.
Warmth hit me, but I shoved that away.
I was not here to ogle his cock. My job was to keep Liam’s very large assets hidden from the world.
Alright. Let’s fix this.
I leaned my head to the side.
The modesty patch’s fabric was stretched thin, straining under the sheer size of his cock, barely covering anything it was supposed to. The thick length sat lopsided, the adhesive edges curling slightly, as if it had given up halfway through the job. Wrinkles bunched along one side, only emphasizing how inadequate it was for the task at hand.
Ummm.
There was no hiding the sheer mass of his cock. Every ridge and vein pressed against the fabric, outlining him with such clarity that the patch seemed almost pointless—a flimsy, laughable attempt to contain something that clearly refused to be contained.
“Okay. I know what to do.” I glanced over my shoulder to call over Gissele and was shocked to see that my assistant was already right by me. “When did you get over here?”
A lusty blush spread across her face. “I. . .uh. . .figured you would need my assistance.”
I bet your horny ass did. . .
I rolled my eyes. “Get the backup modesty patches for me, please.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take this modesty patch off first?” She pointed to Liam’s cock. “I could do that. I don’t mind.”
I scowled. “Go get the backups.”
“Of course.” She cleared her throat and hurried away.
Liam—none the wiser to how he had all the women on set close to combusting—hummed a tune and winked at me. “You think you could fix this?”
“Yeah. I’ll hook you up. You kind of. . .put it on wrong and perhaps that one is too small.”
“Cool.” He gave me a nervous smile. “You know in all my years of filming, this is my first sex scene.”
“No way.”
“Yeah. It’s always been action stuff, jumping from exploding buildings or taking down a villain in a river of blood.” Then, he lowered his voice. “I’m. . .actually a bit worried this is going to be a disaster.”
“Are you trying to say I can’t do my job?”
“You’re perfect. I’m the one that may mess this up.”
“Breathe. You are ready to kill this moment and make movie-goers worldwide go crazy in the theater.”
He sighed.
“And do you want to know something that might make this easier for you?”
He looked skeptical but nodded hesitantly. “Yeah?”
“Filming an action scene is actually a lot like filming a sex scene.”
That caught his attention.
He quirked his brows. “How?”
“Both are about creating intimacy—just in different ways. With an action scene, you’re building tension between the characters, the stakes are high, and every move has to feel deliberate, like it matters. With a sex scene, it’s the same thing—except the stakes are emotional, not physical. Either way, you’re telling a story through movement.”