The look of sheer terror on her beautiful face makes it hard to contain my chuckle. My fingers wrap around her thin arms as she struggles to find her feet and tries to balance on her ridiculously too-high heels. I can feel her body tremble under my fingertips, and her lips form a perfect O as recognition flashes across her face.

I smile down on her, and she slams her mouth shut just as her cheeks fill with color. I usually have that effect on women. Glad to see she's not any different.

It was impossible not to notice her the moment she stepped out of that limo. Her long blonde hair, her petite frame, and the anxious way she ran from the paparazzi and fell right into my arms.

My thumbs rub the soft skin of her arms, and the scent of her floral perfume is intoxicating.

“Hey, hey, easy now,” I joke with her as she presses her hands against my chest and regains her composure. Her eyes flutter closed, and she takes a deep breath, but I can't help but notice her hands shaking and her full lips twitching nervously.

Realizing what's just happened, she exhales softly. “God, I'm so sorry,” she mumbles under her breath, shuffling from foot to foot as she tries to straighten her long, black dress that has shifted during her stumble.

“The cameras can be intimidating.” I try to calm her and ease her obvious anxiety. “But I'm pretty sure that stumble is going to make the highlight reel on tonight's tabloid television.”

I laugh openly and her cheeks turn a darker shade of red. “I'm Pax.” I grin, holding out one hand for her to shake while my other still holds her upright. “And you are?”

Her eyes fall to my outstretched hand only she doesn’t reciprocate. “I know who you are,” her voice rattles. “I'm not a celebrity. I’m a kindergarten teacher.”

She finally manages to shrug out of my grip, and I hold both hands up in a show of surrender. She lifts her chin and finally holds eye contact with me in mock confidence. I can see how fucking nervous she is by the little dance she’s doing and it’s making my dick hard. I love it when I can make women squirm.

The flush from her cheeks is now crawling down her neck and onto her chest. It's hard not to follow those red splotches down to her perfectly lifted tits—tits that would fit nicely in the palm of my hands.

“Name. What's your name?” I lift my head from her breasts up to her face as I wait for her to answer. She fumbles around awkwardly, juggling her small clutch from hand to hand.

“Kaylee. Kaylee Rose.”

I see Kendall Scott, my publicist, over Kaylee's shoulder, one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows arched in curiosity, but a look of warning shoots from her bright blue eyes. A look she’s always giving me.

I give her a little wink and decide to ignore her non-verbal warning, turning my attention back to Kaylee.

“Nice to meet you, Kaylee Rose.”

She inhales sharply at the sound of her name rolling off my tongue. I've yet to lose the Southern accent I acquired growing up in Texas. It's my secret weapon. Women find it hard to resist that accent, and it's helped me more often than it's hurt me.

My agent has spent thousands on dialect coaches, telling me it'll make me more marketable when I'm able to ditch that light Southern drawl, but I know when to use it, and when I need to turn up the charm. I hold my hand out again for her to take and she hesitates for just a moment before sliding her soft hand in mine.

Kaylee is adorable and horribly uncomfortable, and I can't help but find it perfectly amusing. She nods her head frantically as her eyes dart around me and toward the large theater doors she was so adamant to get to when she fell face first into me.

Pulling her hand from mine, she fakes a smile. “Nice to meet you too,” she mutters as she scurries away, glancing back over her delicate shoulder at me.

“Enjoy the movie, Kaylee.” I laugh openly as she hurries inside.

“What the hell was that?” Philip Montes asks as he sidles up next to me, sipping a glass of champagne. He's breaking public relations cardinal rule number one; don't be photographed with alcohol. He catches me looking at the crystal glass in his hand and shrugs before taking a sip of bubbly.

“I'm not entirely sure, but I'm about to find out.” I see the large double doors close behind her.

“She's not Hollywood,” he scoffs and steps aside as Jenna Berg and Ashton Walters make their way toward us down the red carpet.

“No. No, she's not. Which makes me all the more interested,” I reply, also stepping aside. Jenna and Ashton are the new “it” couple in Hollywood. Cameras flash, blinding me. I take this as my cue to get the hell inside and away from this red carpet.

“I give them five months,” Philip says under his breath, his eyebrow rising as we watch the power couple work the red carpet. “I'm ninety-nine percent sure he plays for both teams.”

I openly laugh, because I'm ninety-nine percent sure Philip is right.

Philip has been my best friend and confidant in this wild business. We've co-starred in three movies together, and both of our careers took off simultaneously. We've been dubbed the modern-day Matt Damon and Ben Affleck—a whole lot to live up to, but we're definitely up to the challenge.

Philip and I follow the growing crowd toward the dark theater. After we check our phones in, protocol for all screenings and premieres, we find our way toward the assigned seats that await us in the front row.

It's hard not to notice Kaylee, sitting in the roped off area just across the row from me, where typically only actors, directors, and producers are allowed. She sits with her legs carefully crossed and her hands resting on her knee—so proper.

It's when I see Roger Ward, our director, approach her with a smile before leaning down and pulling her into an embrace that my curiosity is even more piqued.

She knows Ward.

Interesting.

Ward’s wife, Lindsay, also greets Kaylee warmly. All three share in conversation, laughing before Roger Ward points to the seat next to Kaylee. A moment passes between them before the smile suddenly falls from Mr. Ward’s face. It’s a look of disappointment. I’ve seen it many times, only this time it’s not directed at me.

Kaylee cringes, as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ward look upset, but not at Kaylee. A few more words are exchanged and another brief embrace before they sit down in the row directly in front of her. They both occasionally turn around to make small talk before the lights begin to flicker, and it's easy to see Kaylee begin to visibly calm.

Philip and I take our seats as the lights begin to dim and then rise again in an effort to get everyone to quiet down, but I can't help but notice the empty seat next to Kaylee.

A round of applause fills the theater as Roger Ward stands and makes his way to the front to address the audience.

I try to sit still as the movie starts, as the scenes play. It’s impossible. I decide to make my move. I nod my head toward Kaylee and Philip rolls his eyes, but not before he fist bumps me.

It takes me three steps to get to her. Three steps before her bright blue eyes look up at me. Three steps is all it takes for me to decide that this girl is going to be mine.