Make Me Yours Read online

  “I’ll do my best to keep you that way.” He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “Have you ever had any situations?”

  “Stalker wise?” He nods. “Yeah, a few. Most of them were with my old bodyguard. It became less frequent when I hired your brother. He did a good job of scaring the creeps off. Luckily, they never made it close enough to do any damage.” I’m not sure if his brother told him everything about what this job entails. I’ve been stalked, harassed, and even sent death threats. I do what I love, but there are drawbacks.

  Chapter Four

  Hudson

  “What the fuck, Dallas? I’m living with this chick?” I hiss as soon as he answers my call. I want to shove my foot up his ass. It was stupid of me not to ask more questions before hopping my dumbass on a plane to some unknown job.

  He chuckles. “I see you made it safe and sound. How was your flight?”

  “Shitty. I gave away my first class ticket to some pregnant gal who needed it more than I did. Now answer my question. What the fuck did you get me into?” I figured I’d crash at some hotel, not at her house.

  “Of course, you stay there. That’s what I did when Lucy moved back home.”

  The only reason Dallas took this job was because Lucy wanted to spread her wings and get a taste of life out of Bluebeech. Life wasn’t what she imagined here, so she moved back after getting pregnant with Maven. They somehow managed to keep a long distance relationship since then.

  No, I didn’t. Shows how much I knew. “Lucy was cool with that?”

  “I hope you’re not asking what I think you are. I never fucked around with Stella. I’m a married man. I had the love of my life, so there was no need for anyone else. Strictly platonic between the two of us.”

  “How beautiful,” I mutter.

  “I got you a kickass job with great pay. A thank you would be nice.”

  “Thanks,” I grumble. “So what exactly am I supposed to do here? Hang out with this chick all day and night? I’ll go fucking nuts.”

  “It’s not all day and night. If you need time off to do something, ask her. You’ll be spending the next week attending promotional events and screenings for her new movie. Your lucky ass gets to travel and stay in the nicest hotels for free. Quit bitching and enjoy it.”

  “Do I have to paint her nails and braid her hair as well?”

  “If you’re into that shit, go ahead. She might not be too keen on your offer, though. This might surprise you, but she’s a pretty private person.”

  I scoff. Yeah right. If you make the decision to be famous, you’re choosing to give your privacy up and giving consent to all of your dirty laundry being aired out to the world.

  “What did you do with her?” I ask. Dallas is more of a people person than I am. Maybe he’ll have some decent ideas to get me through this.

  “We watched movies. I read. Find something you have in common.”

  “We have nothing in common.”

  “Stay optimistic. You never know.”

  He changes the subject by giving me an update on Lucy and then tells me about Maven starting her first day of school. We talk for a good hour before I hang up to get ready for bed. It’s after eleven, and I’m nowhere near tired, but I don’t know what else to do with myself.

  My bedroom is on the main floor and is what I assume the in-law suite. There’s a bathroom, a full kitchenette, and also a space for the computer monitors that show me a view of every camera on the property. I undress, turn on the TV, and slide into the world’s most comfortable bed. My next three hours are spent tossing and turning. Sleep isn’t coming to me tonight. I get up to grab an Ambien from my bag and open a cabinet for a glass.

  Shit.

  It’s empty.

  I check another one.

  Empty again.

  I crack open the door and notice all of the lights are off. I tiptoe towards the kitchen and make it around the corner at the same time a light flips on and I collide into something … or someone.

  “Fuck!” a high-pitched voice screams.

  I stumble back to find Stella standing in front of me with her hand settled on her chest as she takes in deep breaths. “You scared the living shit out of me,” she says, in-between pants.

  It looks bad, but I can’t stop myself from sweeping my gaze down her body and appreciating the view she’s giving me. My dick is enjoying it as well. Purple silk shorts small enough to be considered panties stop at the base of her thighs. Lace wraps around the edges, and my hands itch with a need to run my fingers over it. A matching tank stops above her belly button, showing off the tan of her hips and a blue belly-button ring. She has curves for days that I could explore for even longer. All of her makeup has been scrubbed off her face. Her hair is in a messy ponytail at the top of her head, a few tendrils sweeping in front of her wide eyes.

  She must be trying to kill me.

  “Shit,” I finally stutter out. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be asleep.”

  She waves off my apology, but I can tell she’s still startled. “No biggie.” She seems to always be on edge like she’s waiting for a killer to barge through the front door with a chainsaw.

  The room falls silent, and I start to get uncomfortable when her eyes drop down my body, not going any further than my cock. She tilts her head to the side as if she’s studying my junk. I understand why when I glance down to see what the problem is.

  I’m not wearing anything but boxer briefs.

  And they’re not regular boxer briefs.

  They’re the ones Dallas gave me as a gag gift last year.

  The words Take Me To Your Beaver are written across my cock.

  I clear my throat, and it takes a good second before I grab her attention. She can’t hold back the smirk on her face when she finally looks at me.

  “Take me to your beaver?” She laughs. “Nice. And here I thought you had no sense of humor. Only on your undies does your hilarity come out.”

  “They were a gag gift from my dickhead brother. I didn’t get the chance to go through my clothes when I got home, so I threw random shit into my suitcase.” That’s a lie. The truth is that Cameron packed up my belongings, with the exception of all of the furniture, appliances, and electronics I bought, and dropped them off at Dallas’ when she moved Grady in. “I promise I don’t wear sexual innuendos underneath my clothes daily or prance around other people’s houses like this.”

  She smiles. “Can’t say I’d complain if you did.”

  My dick stirs. I decide to reroute this conversation before I end up taking my cock to her beaver. “There were no glasses in the cabinet.”

  She points to the fridge. “The kitchen is always open. I don’t think Dallas used that kitchenette once.” She flips on another light, and the kitchen lights up like the Vegas strip. “Can’t sleep?” I shake my head. “Me either. I’m putting on some tea. Want a cup?”

  “The only kind of tea I drink is laced with sugar and served on ice. Not sure that’ll exactly make me tired.”

  She takes the teapot off the stove and starts to fill it up with water before setting it back onto the burner and turning it on. “It’s herbal tea. Chamomile. My insomnia remedy.”

  We’re standing in her kitchen both damn near naked, and she’s offering me tea. I’m not sure how this can get any more awkward. Might as well make the best of it, though. She’s not freaking out or rushing away in embarrassment, so I’ll look like a dipshit if I do.

  “It’s worth a shot.” I shrug and sit down. “Why can’t you sleep?”

  “I have a lot on my mind.” I raise a questioning brow, a silent plea to go on, and am surprised when she does. “I’m making a significant career change. This is my first role in a movie, and I want people to like it. To like me. I want to prove that I can do more than play a teenage witch.”

  “Do you like it?” She nods. “Then that’s all that matters.” I throw my arms out to gesture to the kitchen. “You must have some decent talent considering you’re able t
o afford all of this at your age.” Some people will work a lifetime and never earn enough money to buy a home like this.

  “Money doesn’t always equal talent.”

  I settle back in my chair. “I guess you’re right there.”

  “Do you not like me?” The bluntness of her question surprises me.

  Shit. Not the conversation I wanted to have with her. I look frenzied while I try to come up with the best answer.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “You have this wall up. It seems you’d rather be anywhere but here. I mean, I’m not expecting you to be my biggest fan, but it’s like I pissed in your Cheerios or something.”

  She has a point, but my dickness isn’t only because I’m here. That’s only a slice of it. “Do you want me to be honest?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t.”

  “I’m sure it comes as no surprise that I didn’t want to take this job.”

  “Why? Because you think I’m a terrible person?”

  “Never said that.”

  She leans back against the cabinet and crosses her arms. “Actions speak louder than words, homeboy.”

  “I don’t know you.”

  “Exactly, so you have no right to judge me so early.”

  “But,” I stress. “I’ve heard stories.”

  She snorts. “Didn’t think you were one of those dudes. Stories from where?”

  “Not from my brother.” I want to make that clear. Dallas has never muttered a bad word about her and has always kept her business private. “From magazines and shit.” And Cameron.

  She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Magazines and shit? Those are some credible sources, let me tell ya.” She grins arrogantly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to like me. Not everyone has good taste.”

  Damn. Maybe she does have some spark in her. I love me a good smartass woman.

  “Trust me, I have good taste,” I correct. “And a good eye for character. So far, you haven’t done anything too diva-like or whatever they say, but we’ve only known each other for a few hours. No one shows their flaws and bad side this early.”

  She stares at me blankly. “So you’re hiding your flaws from me until later? What do you have some demon hidden away in there? Are you a psychopath or one of those men who like to be dressed up in a diaper and changed as sexual foreplay?”

  I can’t stop a smile from flashing over my lips. Spark, yeah she has it. “The last two are a huge ass negative.” Internal demons? Possibly. My stomach knots. “I’m sure you’ll find qualities I have that you don’t like. No one is perfect.” This conversation is taking a huge turn from where I wanted it to go. My plan had been to drink some of this supposed miraculous tea, have limited conversation, and then get my ass to bed.

  “Have you even watched my show before?” she asks.

  “Can’t say I have. I tend to be an action fan. Teenage witches aren’t really my first choice.” Maven has asked me to watch it with her countless times, but I’ve never been interested.

  A hint of sadness flows over her face, and she turns around when the teapot whistles through the awkward tension. She grabs two tea packets and places them in the cups.

  “So why can’t you sleep?” she asks, keeping her attention on the pot while pouring the steaming water.

  I scrub a hand over my face. “It’s only my second night back in the States. It’ll take some time for me to adjust to a different sleep schedule. It always does.”

  She hands a cup to me. “Where were you stationed?”

  “Afghanistan both times.”

  “Do you think you’ll go back? Do another one?”

  “I promised my family that it would be my last, but I’m not so sure now.” I have nothing to stay here for. I take a sip of the tea, feeling it scorch the tip of my tongue. It’s a little bland for my taste, but not too bad.

  She puckers her full lips and blows into her cup. “Why aren’t you sure?”

  “Shit changed. People changed. I changed. My situation is different now than when I made that promise.”

  “I say do whatever makes you happy.” I yawn, and she holds up her cup, grinning. “See. Told you it works.” She slides across the kitchen floor in her socks. “Goodnight, Hudson. Hopefully, you’ll like me tomorrow because we have a long day ahead of us.”

  I turn around in my chair to look at her. “What do you mean?”

  “We’re flying out in the morning to finish off the promotional tour. Didn’t Dallas tell you that?”

  “Nope. Must’ve slipped his mind,” I grunt.

  “Now you know. Get some rest.”

  I give her a small smile. “Goodnight, Stella.”

  I turn off the lights and bring the cup back to my room with me. Even though I can feel myself growing drowsy, something irritating is playing with my mind. I snatch my laptop from its sleeve and open up iTunes. I type in the name of her show and buy every season. I only make it through the first three episodes before dozing off.

  Chapter Five

  Stella

  “You ready to get this party started?” Willow asks when she strolls into my bedroom.

  Her fire red hair is pulled back tight in double braids, and she’s wearing a bright green maxi dress. She likes to travel comfortably like me, which is why I’m wearing something similar, but my dress is black. I’m sitting on the side of my bed, making sure I have my passport and everything I need.

  “By the way,” she goes on. “I saw your hot as hell bodyguard down in the kitchen making coffee. Someone needs to pull that stick out of his ass.”

  I open my mouth to tell her about our conversation last night but close it before I do. She’ll only try to push him in-between my legs more.

  “He’s probably tired,” I say, feeling the need to defend him. “He’s only been home a few days and is adjusting to the time difference.”

  She grins. “Dang, look at you Ms. Know It All. Did he tell you that?” Her face scrunches up when I nod. “He was only home a few days and left? I bet his girlfriend wasn’t happy about that.”

  “I think they broke up.”

  “Did your new bestie disclose that as well?”

  “Not exactly, but he said he promised his family he wouldn’t deploy again, but now shit has changed.”

  “Hmm … it sounds like the both of you are in need of releasing some tension. You know what helps with that?”

  “A massage? Oreo cookies?”

  “A massage to your clitoris. Oreo cookies licked off your body.”

  “Um ew. You know I’d freak out if crumbs got in my bed.”

  She sighs. “One of these days I’m going to find you a good man.”

  I sigh back – more dramatically. “One of these days I’m going to find you a good man, so you stay out of my love life.” Willow has a boyfriend, but he’s not my biggest fan. And I’m not his. He’s a loser, but she loves him, so there’s not much I can do but be supportive, even though I can’t hold myself back from throwing jabs now and then. She can do so much better than a guy who’s been caught sending dick pics to chicks he met on Craigslist’s casual encounters listings.

  “If you don’t start dating, you’re going to be eighty, wrinkly, and living alone with your sixty-odd-something cats while whining about how men suck while you sip on whiskey.”

  “As long as there’s alcohol involved, it sounds like a promising future. Whiskey and pussies.”

  She rolls her eyes and slaps my leg to get up. “Until then, we have a plane to catch. Your luggage has already been brought down by Muscled Marine, so as soon as you’re ready, we need to head out.”

  “Muscled Marine? You need Jesus.”

  “And you need some dick to get a better sense of humor.”

  Hudson is still in the kitchen when we make it down. I frown when I notice he’s dressed this time and I won’t be getting another view of his finely sculpted chest that runs down to washboard abs. Even though I had my tea and went upstairs, it took me awhile to fal
l asleep because I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I wanted to ask more questions and convince him I’m not who he thinks I am.

  “Morning, ladies,” he says when he notices us. I’ve been anxious to see him since I woke up. Will he act like we didn’t see each other in our underwear? “Coffee?” He holds up his cup while raising a brow.

  “Dear god, yes,” I say around a yawn. “Coffee before talkie.” Coffee is my liquid heroin. I’m a caffeine aficionado.

  He chuckles, and his laugh is what I’d expected it to be. Deep, like it’s coming from the bottom of his stomach and forcing it’s way up his throat. He pours me a cup and hands it over. “Coffee – because crack is bad for you.” Damn, it’s like he read my mind.

  “I took the road less traveled … that led to Starbucks, and that’s made all the difference,” I reply, with a smile.

  He looks impressed at my comeback. “Want to hear a joke? Decaf.”

  “Coffee, a liquid hug for your brain.”

  Oh my god.

  Are we flirting?

  Are we having a moment?

  Over coffee puns?

  Are we really flirting in this ridiculously lame way?

  We’ve locked eyes, his dark gaze impaling mine, and his mouth curves into an even bigger grin. If it takes some coffee and a lame joke to get him to crack a smile, I’ll take it.

  “I feel like I’m intruding on a moment,” Willow drawls out. “A coffee-flirting-I-don’t-know-what-the-hell-is-going-on moment.” She snickers. “This is why I don’t drink that shit. It makes people all weird and fidgety.”

  I’m glad I’m not the only one realizing this is something. A spark we keep adding more life to each time we have a conversation.

  He laughs nervously, breaking eye contact. “It’s a non-coffee drinker thing. You think we’re crazy when it’s really you.”