Page 35 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

He frowned, his mood souring.

One guard stood near the end of the patio, face down in his damn phone, the bright glow illuminating his face. Another had made himself comfortable at the edge of the pool, shoes and socks off, pants rolled to his calves, dangling his bare feet in the water.

Were they on break?

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” he muttered.

Another leaned against the fountain on the west side of his lawn, in front of his vegetable garden, smoking lazily as if he were at a barbecue instead of on a security assignment.

Xander looked toward the darker edges of the property but there were no signs of the other two.

Maybe they were actually patrolling.

He rubbed tiredly at his forehead. Tomorrow morning he was calling Jesse and insisting they start interviewing real protection firms, not this crap the studio assigned.

Still, six armed men outside should deter anybody from trying to get to him.

Right?

God, he hoped so.

He thought the shower would relax him.

Steam curled around the large glass stall as hot water pounded across his shoulders, but his brain refused to slow down.

He tried running lines in his head and focusing on his upcoming scenes—and not thinking about Cassidy.

He was failing.

Because all he could picture were those deep brown eyes staring down at him. A serious, penetrating glare. Melancholy and hardened.

Eyes that were somehow focused and fatigued at the same time.

Xander leaned one forearm against the cool tile and rested his forehead against it.

He wondered what was Cassidy doing right now?

Working probably.

In the seven months of filming, Xander couldn’t remember a single time he hadn’t seen Cassidy somewhere on the lot.

Moving, watching, directing. Always so present. That kind of work ethic was crazy attractive to him.

Xander began to breathe faster, his inhales shallower, as his thoughts drifted to the size of Cassidy’s hands, his big chest. His voice. The heat of him when he was close.

He swallowed hard.

Was Cassidy alone too?

He opened his eyes, his pulse beating, the heat from the shower doing more than making his muscles feel good. He groaned as he massaged the steam into his sore pecs.

He glanced down—

“Oh my God.”

His cock was hard as stone, jutting straight out like a locked and loaded weapon.

Warmth flooded his face.