Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“I’m not scared, Law. I’m smart. There’s a difference.”
Technicians nearby exchanged glances and subtly began packing up their things. They’d seen this dance before and knew it wasn’t going to stay PG for long.
“You’re impossible,” Wes snapped, turning to adjust one of the detonator charge settings on the touchscreen.
“Oh, right, you’re so smart. Was it smart when you went against my suggestion and insisted on cold-igniting the vapor rig, giving the creative designer third-degree cryogenic burns?”
Wes threw up a hand. “That man leaned into the blast!”
“You triggered it during a rehearsal!”
“I said I was sorry!”
“Yeah, well, sorry won’t make his leg hair grow back.”
Their noses were almost touching, breaths mingling.
“You always think you’re right,” Wes gritted. He turned to walk away, but he only made it one step before Law grabbed him by the belt and spun him back into the steel table, making some of the tools clatter and fall to the floor.
“Law,” Wes warned.
“I am right,” Law countered, his voice low and dangerous. “You want me to prove it?”
“If you think you can.” Wes licked his lips.
“Clear out,” Law muttered to the staff without breaking their eye contact.
The doors had barely closed before Law slammed his mouth over his.
Wes groaned against his lips, muttering, “You always fight dirty.”
Law’s voice was a sinful growl. “You’re damn right I do.”
Law dropped to his knees as if he’d been born there.
“Don’t you—”
Too late.
Law tugged Wes’s fly down and mouthed him through his briefs.
He gripped Wes’s thighs like a steel vise, holding him still as he pulled the waistband down and took him into his mouth in one slow, delicious swallow.
Wes’s head snapped back, hand slamming down on the table for support. “Fuck—Law…”
Law licked and sucked with wicked intent, like he was punishing Wes for daring to argue with him. His tongue was relentless, his mouth a furnace, dragging Wes into submission with each wet glide.
Wes rocked forward, losing the battle for control as Law moaned around him.
“You’re insane,” he choked out.
Law pulled back for a breath, eyes gleaming. “Still think I’m wrong?”
“And you’re such a manipulative bastard,” Wes gasped.
Law sucked like he wanted to own his every decision. He scraped his teeth over him before he flattened his tongue and took apart his argument with every drag up his length.
Wes grabbed the edge of the bench for balance, every tendon in his neck straining. “Law—fuck—I’m gonna—”
Law growled low in his throat, doubling down.
Wes came so hard he thought the fucking table might collapse.
Law stood, eyes glinting, mouth wet, licking his lips. “Told you I was right.”
Wes felt drunk, his vision blurred as he tried to remember what he’d been wrong…he meant right about.
“That’s what I thought.” Law grinned, grabbing Wes’s hips and spinning him around. “Now bend your ass over the table while I finish winning this argument.”
Before Law could slick himself good, the door banged open, making them both jerk upright.
HOS—Head of Security—stormed toward them with a few wide-eyed guards hurrying behind him.
“Goddammit!” HOS barked, his voice ricocheting off the metal walls. “I told you to stop doing that shit on studio property!”
“You know better than to interrupt us when we’re hard at work, HOS! We’re trying to narrow down some very minute details,” Law panted as he haphazardly tried to get his pants up. “The studio managers should be thanking us for our commitment to perfection!”
“Shut up, idiot,” Wes mumbled, trying to catch his breath and his dignity. “What’s going on, HOS?”
“There’s been another breach,” he said. “Devyn Frost and his bodyguard were attacked leaving Stage 8.”
Wes and Law both straightened.
“How are they?” Wes asked.
“Stable, but they’re both in the hospital. Security contained it fast, and we’ve shut down access to the press, but we need everyone off the premises for safety.”
They shared a grim look.
Devyn was no lightweight, and his guard was ex-military. If the two of them had been put down, then…
“I’m glad they’re safe,” Wes sighed.
“It shouldn’t’ve happened. It’s the third breach this month.” HOS squeezed the back of his neck. “Not to mention the vandalism, bomb threats, drone flyovers.”
HOS usually looked as if he fit his title, but today, his dark button-up clung to his chest with sweat and the furrow between his brows was so deep it seemed it would never smooth out again.
His neat hair was mussed from running his fingers through and pulling it, and the pulsing vein in his temple gave away just how close he was to losing his shit.
He was sexy as fuck, sure, but he was one more incident away from aging ten years.
“I’ve hired more personnel from the best security agency in town, upgraded our protocols, but…” HOS exhaled sharply. “It’s not enough. I need better, stronger guards. I need elite.”
Law narrowed his eyes. “Define elite.”
HOS shrugged. “Loyal, skilled, well-trained, not just muscles but intelligence too, someone who can think quick on their feet. Most of all, I need discretion.”