Trashed / Page 62

Page 62


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And then, somehow, I’m wrapped up in him. His arms are circled around me, my head tucked beneath his chin, my body tangled with his. I feel the stickiness of his come on his cock as it lies against my thigh. My skin cools as the sweat dries, and I feel his pulse thrumming in his throat, in his chest.

He doesn’t ask anything of me. Doesn’t demand I tell him how I feel or try to kiss me. He drags the blankets over us both and holds me. And this, it turns out, is the magical key to unlocking the gates. He holds me and the fear reflex, the instinct to protect myself from getting to close to anyone, fades into nothingness.

Chapter 14

We’re sitting in the waiting room of a doctor’s office. Adam is beside me, reading a magazine. I notice he’s been probing at his ribs every once in a while.

“Adam?” He glances up at me. “How are your ribs?”

He shrugs. “They’re fine,” he says. “They’ll heal.”

“Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. Aches a little.”

“What was the stunt?”

He closes his magazine. “Jumping from the roof of a warehouse to the top of a moving train. The director wanted the landing to look a certain way, and I kept messing it up. Well, on the last take, the train was moving too fast, so instead of my jump being timed to land in the middle of the car, I hit the back edge, caught it with my stomach. Some bruising, nothing I can’t handle.” He’s obviously trying to make light of it.

“Wait. You were jumping onto the roof of a moving train? Like, for real? Isn’t that dangerous?”

He shrugs. “It’s what I do.”

“That’s crazy! You could’ve been killed!”

“It’s all carefully orchestrated and planned out. And, honestly, if you think about it, it’s no less crazy than putting on some pads and letting other guys tackle you on the field. Playing football, you risk concussion and broken bones every single day. Every practice, every game, you risk injury. In acting, even the most dangerous stunts are planned down to the most minute detail. And this stunt, yeah, it went wrong, but that’s one scene out of hundreds. And that’s the most difficult one we’ll do on this project. It’s not a big deal.”

“Did we make it worse, last night?”

He winks at me. “Babe, I didn’t even feel it. In college, I played injured several times. I played a full game with a sprained wrist once. Bruises like this were so commonplace you didn’t even mention them, honestly. A cracked rib would be a different story, but this is just some bruising.”

I’m focusing on him, rather than my nerves. We’re at a gynecologist to get me on birth control. Adam insisted on going with me, and on having Oliver drive us. Which meant avoiding Oliver’s knowing smirk. God. How embarrassing. Twenty-two, almost twenty-three, and I’m just now going on birth control for the first time. And I was driven to the appointment by a bodyguard, with my famous movie star boyfriend sitting beside me.

Boyfriend? Is that what he is? Is this an actual thing between us? If he’s willing to sit in a gynecologist’s office with me, I’d guess so.

I have a boyfriend.

Holy shit. That excites me more than I’m comfortable admitting even to myself.

Adam catches my giddy grin. “What?”

I shrug and shake my head. “I just…I don’t know. It’s silly. I’ll tell you later.”

“Okay, then.” He smiles and shrugs.

The door between the waiting area and the exam rooms opens. A young woman with curly brown hair and dark green scrubs stands in the doorway, propping the door open with a foot, an iPad in her hand.

She glances up. “Destiny Ross?”

Adam frowns and looks at me. I blush and refuse to meet his confused gaze.

The nurse looks at me. “Destiny Ross?” she repeats.

I stand up. “That’s…that’s me.” I move toward the nurse, saying, “I go by Des.”

“Des, then. Come on back, Dr. Guzman will see you now.”

I turn back to Adam, who has a puzzled frown on his face. I shrug at him, and then the door is closing behind me, and the nurse is having me step on a scale and measuring my height, noting the results in her iPad. And then I’m in an exam room, and the nurse is in the doorway.

Her eyes are wide as she leans toward me. “Your boyfriend, is that—?”

I nod, and can’t stop a wide, giddy grin from crossing my face. “Yeah.”

“Damn. You go, girl!”

I wave her over. “But you can’t say anything to anyone, okay? Please?”

She tugs on a brown ringlet. “Can I tell my roommate I met him, at least?”

I shrug. “Sure. Just…don’t take any pictures or anything. He’s here privately, for me. It’s important.”

She nods. “No problem.” She giggles and shakes her head. “I can’t believe you’re dating Adam Trenton. That’s so cool.”

“You have no idea.” I’m blushing furiously now.

She seems to realize what kind of office she works in and what the implications are, and her eyes widen. “Ohmygod. Is he as big—”

I cut her off. “There’s no way in hell I’m answering that question.”

She ducks her head. “Of course not. Sorry.” She smiles at me, and then offers a polite, formal smile. “Dr. Guzman will be in to see you in just a moment.”

“Thanks.”

“A moment” turns out to be fifteen minutes. And I thought it’d be a matter of just saying I wanted to get on birth control and get some pills, but it’s not that easy. Since I’ve never had any kind of medical insurance, I’ve never had a proper exam, so she insists on that, and then there’s the whole conversation of what kind of birth control I want. I decide on an IUD, because remembering to take a pill every day is never going to happen.

When I leave the exam room, I hear the hubbub of voices raised in excitement. My heart stops as I push open the door to find Adam in the waiting room, surrounded by a crowd of women, some of them patients, some of them wearing scrubs. He’s got a Sharpie in his hand and he’s signing receipts and the backs of cell phones, and he’s got his public smile on, but it looks strained. I push through the women, grab Adam by the hand, snatch his Sharpie from him and cap it, and then stand in front of him, between him and the women, all of whom seem a little…rabid.

“Excuse me,” I say, giving each one a glare. “That’s enough.”


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