Chapter Fourteen

Alaska

Tugging the skirt down over my thighs, I wriggled my ass, trying to make it just a little bit longer. The wardrobe for the show was completely insane. What was I, a damn street walker?

Tiny skirts, short cut shirts, showing lots of skin and lots of half ass shots; I was the fictional dream of most men.

And my character—virgin, innocent, sexy as sin. According to Marc it would drive the ratings higher and hopefully increase the potential male audience.

But none of this was who I was. I wasn't the sweet innocent girl anymore, and I was never the skimpy clothing wearing woman, looking for a man to pop my cherry.

Kealen had done that, he had taken all of that away. And I was happy he had, even if I wasn't sure about the details.

I still didn't know for certain if he was the one behind that picture or if he had done this in some sick twisted way to steal a minute of fame.

But it didn't matter either way. The picture was out there and I was left without a choice. The show was being forced down my throat, there wasn't a way out. I couldn't afford some big fancy lawyer to help me get out of that contract.

And even if I could, my name was there in permanent script.

Grimacing in the mirror, I let out a huge sigh and lowered my head. Everything about this entire thing fucking sucked.

It cut me so deep to think he might have been the one behind my downfall. I wasn't ready to accept the idea, but I couldn't shove it away either. It was too hard to swallow and even think that he had hired someone to deface me that way.

I wanted to hate him, I wanted to slap him and kick him and tell he was a fucking asshole.

And in that same thought the butterflies would bustle about in my stomach, my fingers would go numb, and my heart would beat erratically.

He was still the man who claimed me, he took my virginity, he would always have that piece of me. I could never erase that memory and I wasn't even ready to start trying.

A knock on the door forced my head up. “Yeah?” I asked, twirling the trim of my shirt in my fingers.

“We need you on set in five.” One of the set hands, whose voice I couldn't make out as anyone specific, spoke through the door, smacking it a second time before walking off.

Inhaling a deep breath, I flicked my head up to the mirror and swallowed all the anger and sadness that was trying to weigh me down. Forcing my camera face on, I painted my lips in the lipstick laid out for me and headed out the door.

Here we go.

I guess it's true. . .

The show will always go on.

The set was outside today, a nice change from the regurgitated carbon copy of a place inside. The whole episode was based around my second date, Fredrick. Another man who the studio chose as one of my potential suitors.

But they had me wrapped, sealed, and going to Garrett. They stole any voice I had in the matter, I didn't get one ounce of input on who I would like to give myself to. Knowing that I was going to have to have sex with that piece of shit made my skin crawl.

He didn't deserve to touch me, never mind getting to have his way with me. The saddest part about the whole ordeal—even the sex was written out, word for word.

Marc had written—in detail—how the whole scene was supposed to go. It was disgusting and horrible to think that even the sex couldn't happen naturally. The only part that really made any difference to me wasn't even mine to begin with.

Taking long steps on my tippie toes, I walked through the grass in heels that weren't made to even graze dirt. The spikes were well over four inches tall, the tip of the toes were embellished with sparkling gems that burst as the sun hit their surface.

A small crowd had gathered around the barricades, separating the city from the set. Their faces were all glued on me as I paraded across the lush green grass in the smallest skirt the world had ever seen.

Keeping my hands on my backside, I held the hem of the skirt, trying to keep my ass off limits to the ogling eyes. A few flashes from cameras popped in from different directions as the paparazzi pushed their way to the front.

Ugh, this sucks!

I'm a fucking spectacle to the world!

My face was stone, ignoring the onslaught of hoots and hollers. I was told to pretend no one was there, to not give them one thing to feed off of.

Marc climbed up into his high chair, holding a megaphone. “Alright people, quiet on the set!” Waving his hand, he ushered me in towards the fountain, patting two fingers for me to sit on the edge. “Right there, Allie, perfect.”

Crossing my legs, I awkwardly leaned forward, hoping the wind would stay dormant and not blow my skirt higher than it already was.

I felt like a fucking barbie doll being paraded around for the rest of the world to scrutinize. This business, the whole haze that hovered over being a virgin and letting everyone watch, had gotten more than a few disgruntled complaints.

For every one person that found it exciting, three others thought it was ludicrous and absurd. I had seen the highlights before I disappeared. People wanted to ban the show, they thought it would cause more young girls to give away their virginity way too soon.

But that negativity drove the curiosity to levels I had never seen. Talk shows debated it, tabloids drew pro and con articles with what I was doing. And in the end it all came back to me, like this was my idea, my creation.

I didn't care either way, it wasn't my idea to make it real. But I did know one thing, and that was I didn't want to be the poster child of the promiscuous boom in the younger generation.

And I didn't want to be the one doing it on screen.

“Okay, here we go!” Marc yelled through his microphone, signaling my new date.

The crowd's voices hushed to barely an audible breath, making my heart pound harder. I sat with my face down, watching a small trickle of ants crawl in and out of a tiny hill at the base of the fountain.

My head should have been in the scene, it should have been trying to focus on my lines. But all I could think about Kealen and how his hands felt on my body, how his lips felt on my skin.

I couldn't get him out of my head. He was sitting there, blanketing my thoughts and sending electric sparks through my veins. Every deep husky voice, every subtle scent of pine or sound of moving water—He was there.

I couldn't even shower this morning without thinking about being in the ocean with him and how it felt to have his fingers run over my skin. The rough touch was mixed with salt and sand, scruffing my flesh in sexual tension.

Marc said something, but I wasn't listening. Lifting my eyes up, I watched him nod his head and lean back in his chair.

My date was coming, that was the signal, that was the cue for me to gaze off into the background, pretending to be unaware of his presence.

Heavy feet padded on the concrete behind me, the thick heat of a man's body wafted over my shoulders.

Alright, show time.

Before I could turn, before I could bat my lashes and put on my sexiest smile, a firm hand tickled over my arm, slipping sensually over the back of my neck, and down my spine.

Wait, that's not what he's supposed to do.

He's got it all wrong.

Tensing, I cocked my head towards Marc, waiting for him to stop production.

But he didn't yell cut, he didn't stop the introduction.

He made changes, of course he took the liberty of making changes.

It wasn't uncommon for things to change in a blink without the producer informing everyone. So I went with it, tilting my head and arching my back.

A deep voice whispered into my ear, the sound puncturing my heart with hot needles. His fingers worked their way over my ribs as he spoke so low only I could hear him.

“I found you.” His lips met my neck, kissing with need, with passion.

The world around me faded away as I recognized the voice and lips on my skin. My body trembled as prickles broke across my flesh, riding my body in waves.

I didn't expect to see him again and I never expected to see him here.

Kealen had found me.

And he found me just in time.