His Every Choice (10 page)

“I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”

“And I won’t forget that you were only in the hospital in the first place because
you took a bullet to save me.”

“I’d have taken a hundred bullets gladly for the chance to be your husband.”

She laughed. “Hunter…”

He put a hand under her chin and made her look at him. “I’m serious, Kallie.

There’s nothing I care about in this whole world the way I care about you.”

“I feel the same way.”

“And to think I almost screwed it all up because I was scared to tell you the truth
about my past. I must have been a fool because I was blind. But now, thank God,
I can see.”

Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly, and then her lips. Slowly,
he lowered himself to the bed next to her and they kissed for a very long time.

Kallie felt so tenderly towards him, and she didn’t know how to express her devotion.
She unzipped his sweatshirt and pulled it off, and then helped him take off his t-shirt.
When his shirt was off, she looked at his wounds and bruises in the candlelight.

“You’ve been through too much,” she told him. “I wish I could heal every last bruise
with a kiss.”

“You can try.”

And so she did try, softly kissing the bruises around his chest. Many of the bruises
had faded or were nearly gone now, but some of the particularly deep ones were still
there. Kallie kissed his wounds, touching them with her hands and lips, wishing she
could take them all away.

He would carry these scars forever, she realized. “I’m sorry you have all of this.

I’m sorry you have scars and pain.”

“These scars make me happy,” he said.

“Why would they make you happy?”

“Because they remind me of how much I love you. They’re my battle scars and I’ll
wear them with pride. I went to battle for you, and for us, and I’ll never stop as
long as I’m drawing breath.”

He pulled her up so that he could kiss her again. She felt his desire as he continued
to draw her closer still, pressing her body against his.

She wanted to be close to him once more, to lay naked in his arms and be held for
the night. That’s when she always felt safest.

Hunter’s lips moved to her cheeks and then her jawline. Slowly, he worked his way
down her neck, lingering at her shoulder. His hands caressed her body as he kissed
everywhere. His touches were slow, as if he was drinking her in through every sense
he had. She felt him taking her in through his lips and tongue, his fingers, his
eyes. He was even smelling her, she thought.

She’d never felt so appreciated by any man. She sensed that he’d changed from everything
he’d gone through. He was no longer the same man that had so glibly written that
BDSM contract for her to sign. Nor was he the same man that had tried to impress
her with a ride on the back of his motorcycle.

He may not have been as carefree as he once was, either. She could see a change in
his eyes—a seriousness that hadn’t quite been there before. As much as it saddened
her to think that he’d changed, it also gratified her. She knew that he’d grown in
so many ways, and let go of so many fears and torn down so many walls that had stood
between them.

As he undressed her slowly and allowed her to undress him, Kallie felt that truly
they were naked, bare to one another in body and soul. There was nowhere left to
hide, and just as importantly, no reason for either of them to hide.

When they were completely naked, Hunter trailed his fingers across her bare breasts
and down her stomach. His touch ignited a firestorm of sensations throughout her
body and she gasped for breath. His eyes locked on hers. “I want to be as close
to you as I can,” he said. “I want to be inside of you forever.”

She opened her legs for him. “I want you inside. Please.” Her breathing sped up
as she anticipated him.

But first, Hunter had other ideas. He kissed her breasts, letting his tongue wander
over her hardened nipples. She cried out as he sucked and licked them, bringing her
arousal to new, dizzying heights.

When she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he began kissing further down her stomach,
licking her belly, tasting her. “You’re so sweet,” he murmured.

She looked down at him, his heavily muscled back working as he lowered himself even
further and started to stroke her most intimate place with his tongue.

Kallie had waited so long to be with him again that she immediately climaxed, surprising
both of them with the ferocity and intensity of her orgasm.

Hunter adapted by grabbing her buttocks and pulling her into his mouth so that he
could suck her clitoris while she came.

This caused her to come immediately again, her urgency shocking in its primitiveness.

“You taste amazing,” he said, grinning. “I need more.” Thus saying, he gently licked
up and down the sensitive parts of her, between her legs, until she was arched and
spread, unable to control herself.

She cried out again and again, unable to stop the building wave of ecstasy. “I’m
coming. I’m coming,” she told him.

“Good. Come for me again,” he said, lifting her to him once more.

When that was over, he raised himself up and she saw how hard and ready he was.

“Will you please make love to me?” she pleaded.

His answer was to slowly and forcefully plunge his shaft into her until he could go
no deeper. His thickness filled her space and she locked her legs around him, relishing
the feeling of having him inside.

“You feel so amazing,” he whispered in her ear. “You’re so warm and wet and tight.”
Groaning with pleasure, he began stroking in and out, in and out. At first, his rhythm
was slow and controlled.

Kallie ran her hands along his shoulders and down his arms as he made love to her.

The two of them were moaning in mutual pleasure, and then he was kissing her fully,
his tongue exploring, his hips crashing into her as he began to build towards his
own climax.

This was the part that Kallie loved most. She knew it was coming—that moment when
he lost all control and became the wildest part of himself, taking her with abandon.

It took him longer to build to that place, but when it came, Kallie was hardly ready
for it. Hunter exploded with passion, sliding deeply into her and pulling her hair
as he deeply kissed her mouth. His breath was her breath, his body melded to hers.

She felt that at that precise moment, there was no difference between his soul and
hers. It was a true communion, a true moment of connection that she’d never before
experienced.

He came, grinding himself against her and pouring himself into her. He moaned, almost
a roar.

She came with him, suddenly, with overwhelming abandon.

When it was over, the two of them could barely speak for minutes. Still inside of
her, Hunter lay against her, nuzzling her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

She could feel his heartbeat against hers, intermingling.

Their chests heaved together.

Their sweat cooled together.

“I love you forever,” he said.

“I love you forever,” she told him.

And then came the most blessed, relaxing sleep that she could remember. His body
remained close to hers, and they never bothered getting dressed again. They lay naked,
intertwined—as relaxed and at home with one another as if they’d always none this
moment.

***

It had been a few days since Scarlett had seen Bryson at the basketball court.

After the less-than-encouraging meeting, Scarlett had returned to New York. She’d
spent the following days getting over her jetlag, shopping for some new clothes for
the job, and reading up on the movie biz.

She didn’t know much about Hollywood or filmmaking, so she got a few books—

memoirs written by people who’d lived and breathed this stuff for years on end. The
books scared her. They detailed a world filled with narcissists, people who would
cut your throat to get another rung up the ladder. As scary as it was to read about
the fast-paced and demanding world of a Hollywood insider, Scarlett had to admit that
she found it all fascinating.

And part of her was looking forward to a new challenge, a chance to test herself and
prove that she was capable and worthy. After all, Kallie had believed in her enough
to get her this gig, the least Scarlett could do was give it a real shot.

So even though she thought that Bryson was an obnoxious jock who hadn’t matured much
beyond a high school level, she decided to do everything in her power to be a good
assistant to him.

When he finally got around to calling her and telling her he was in town, Scarlett
was happy to get started. She asked him if he needed her help yet and he was noncommittal.

He told her he didn’t know just what he was even doing, so perhaps she would be bored
trying to be his assistant right now.

However, Scarlett sensed that perhaps there was a place for her in the mix. She said
she’d drop by his apartment the next morning and get to work.

So now she was standing in Midtown Manhattan, at a very swanky building with the doorman
and the whole shebang, and asking to go up and see Bryson Taylor. The concierge called
up and checked in to make sure she was expected, then told her to go ahead.

For a moment, Scarlett had been nervous that Bryson had already forgotten, but apparently
not.

On the elevator ride up, she looked herself over. She’d dressed in a burgundy slouchy
knit top and a black mini skirt, black high heels. It was a bit much, but she wanted
to give off an air of effortless New York sophistication. Bryson hadn’t seen that
side of her and perhaps it would shock him into looking at her in a different light.

She arrived at the door to his apartment and knocked twice.

Moments later, he opened the door and greeted her. “Wow, you dressed up,” he said.

“Wow, you didn’t,” she replied, taking note of his basketball shorts and sleeveless
tank top—a different ensemble than what he’d worn the other day at the courts, but
basically the same idea.

“Sorry, I just woke up not too long ago. Still on L.A. time.” He wandered through
the apartment, giving her a de facto tour of the place. It was huge, spacious, modern.
“It’s kind of got the whole post-modern Zen thing going on,” he said.

“Actually, I don’t even know what that means. The realtor told me that.”

She supposed Bryson was lucky that the production had paid for him to stay in such
a nice place.

Scarlett admired the views of Manhattan from the enormous picture windows.

Everything was light wood, and very sleek and minimalist. Still, Bryson had managed
to mess it up already with a few pizza boxes, empty beer bottles, magazines and papers
floating around.

Not to mention, the clothes she glimpsed on the floor of his bedroom through the slightly
ajar door.

They ended up in the kitchen, where Bryson started to brew coffee. “You like it strong?”
he asked her.

“Of course.” She sat down at the table and stared at the majestic skyline. “What
a view,” she marveled.

He glanced over as he ground the beans. “Yeah, it’s pretty killer all right.”

“Rad,” she mumbled, over the sound of the grinder.

“So,” Bryson said, smiling as the coffee brewed and then poured automatically into
a mug.

“So,” she agreed.

“I’m not really sure where to start.”

Scarlett opened her purse and pulled out a notebook and pen. “Well, let’s just get
an idea of what needs doing, okay?”

Bryson brought the mug over to her. “What do you prefer—cream, sugar, Splenda, cocoa
powder, vanilla extract? I can go on.”

She laughed. For a millisecond, she nearly found him charming. “I take it black
with a few Splenda.”

He put a box of Splenda on the table next to her mug, and a spoon. Then he went back
to the coffee maker and started on his mug. He was tall and broad shouldered, athletic,
and handsome. She figured that he’d never probably had much of an issue with the
ladies—at least, not getting them into bed.

But she wasn’t here for any of that. Bryson was still standing by the coffee machine
and she was waiting with her pen in the air.

“So, what are the basic things you need to get done in the next week or two?” she
asked.

He sighed. “It’s all in my head. I’m not really a list-making kind of guy.”

“But don’t you think maybe for a project this big, it could help to jot down some
goals?”

“Yeah, maybe.” He grabbed his cup and slowly meandered over to the table.

“Honestly, my main goal at the moment is to do some of these rewrites that Max and
the Sony people came up with.”

“Rewrites?”

He nodded as he poured cream into his coffee. “Yeah. A couple days ago, Max called
me and said they had a few minor tweaks. Well, when they sent their notes over, it
turned out to be some major stuff.”

Scarlett jotted the phrase “major rewrites” in her notebook.

“What did you just write?” he said.

“I just put that down as a goal.”

“No. That doesn’t count. Cross that out.”

“Why?”

“Because, that’s my goal. That’s personal to me. It’s not—it’s not what I envision
you helping me with.”

She pursed her lips and lay her pen down. “So what do you envision me helping you
with, Bryson?”

He waved his arms, nearly spilling his cup. “I don’t know. This. All of this.”

“All of what?”

“The stuff that I need to organize. I need to call my AD’s, start making storyboards,
a master shot list, talk to the cinematographer, scout locations—which reminds me,
that means talking to the location scout.”

Scarlett was writing everything down furiously as he spoke. “Okay, okay. That’s
a lot of stuff.”

He took a sip of coffee. “Oh, and I need to meet with Dale and Eliza. Separately.

No, together.” He stopped mid sip and reconsidered. “No, separately.”