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And maybe I have.
"Katie Edwards," I say her name slowly as I take another step toward her chair. The scent of her shampoo, something flowery, wafts up to my nostrils, and I inhale deeply. I stuff my hands in my pockets to keep her from seeing how I ball them into fists to repress the urge to reach out and touch her. No need to act like a total psycho and scare her right off the bat.
"I'm…" I start to introduce myself, but she interrupts me.
"Justin Robison," she pushes herself up from the chair and takes a step back, putting the chair between us. I frown at the new distance, irrationally bothered by it. "Yeah, I know who you are. There was no need to clear the room to introduce yourself. You're already late, and now we're holding the whole production team up." She crosses her arms as she looks up at me.
I blink at her candid tone, slightly taken aback. I'm not used to actresses berating me. Quite the opposite, actually. I usually have to fight them off when they throw themselves at me whether I want them or not. I'm not saying that in a conceited manner either. It's actually quite tiresome.
Ironic that the one woman I wouldn't mind throwing herself at me seems to be doing nothing but trying to distance herself from me.
I try to shrug it all off with a smile and a reassuring, "Clive will live. He and I have worked together before." It's true. The director is very familiar with how I operate, which is usually by flying on the seat of my pants but whatever. I might be late sometimes. I might have a 'fuck it' attitude. But at the end of the day, I still deliver. It's why I keep getting cast for movies time and time again.
"Katie," I taste her name again and take another step toward her. I don't know why. I don't know what I'm planning to do. God only knows how much I want to taste her lips, run my fingers through her hair, feel the velvety softness of her skin.
Just fucking be near her.
"Justin," she parrots my name back at me and takes a step back. A shiver runs down my spine at my name coming from her lips. I want to hear her moaning it in my ear as I…
"Time's up!" Clive announces as he strolls back into the room, glaring at me before his eyes flick between Katie and me.
I glare back at him, pissed beyond measure at being interrupted. From what I don't know. It's not like we were even doing anything. I just want to talk to her. Get to know her.
She turns to walk away from me, and I panic. I reach out and grab her wrist to stop her from leaving.
She gasps as she turns back to face me, her hair bouncing around her face at the movement.
Electricity snaps along every nerve ending in my body at finally touching her. Her skin is just as velvety soft as I imagined it would be.
She feels so fucking delicate. A surge of protectiveness swells up within me.
Mine.
Everything about this girl is screaming she's mine. I don't know how I know that, but I do.
Her eyes flick down to where I'm holding her wrist, and then she looks up at me and attempts a scowl.
But I feel her pulse thundering under my grip. I feel the slight tremor that goes through her. She feels this too. This whatever this is between us.
I can't help but tighten my grip on her as I lean down and say right into her ear. "This isn't over, Katie. We'll talk more later."
Her scent surrounds me, and I have to fight from nuzzling into her hair right there in front of everyone. Instead, I inhale, like a wolf scenting its mate, before I finally rise to my full height and release her.
"I'm aware of your, ah," she stumbles over her words, her cheeks prettily flushed before she settles on, "reputation." She covers her wrist where I was holding her as if trying to wipe away the contact, "And nothing is going to happen between us," she hisses at me before promptly turning and striding away over to where the director and other staff are.
I stare after her, dumbfounded, though why I don’t know. I'm well aware of what the tabloids print about me. No matter that half of it isn’t even true. I usually don't give a fuck one way or the other if people believe the trash printed in them.
But the thought that Katie might really believe me to be the unfeeling Hollywood player that the tabloids paint me as stings. It bothers me more than I care to admit.
I square my jaw as I follow her onto the set.
I determine right then and then that I'm going to do everything I can to show her I'm not that guy from the papers.
Because whether Katie Edwards realizes it or not, I've learned one truth this morning.
That she's mine. Everything about her tells me so whether she realizes it or not. And nothing will stand in my way of having her. Not even the woman herself.
