expression.
“You sure? I get tested regularly.”
“Trust me,” she whispers and I get lost in her eyes.
I’m barely able to say, “I do,” when she rocks her hips, taking the very tip of me inside her.
What little control I had disappears as I press her back to the tiles and plant myself to the root. Her head falls back, mouth open, as I pull out before surging deep again. It’s a struggle to stay standing when I lose myself in the punishing rhythm.
“So close…” she mumbles, her fingers clawing against my scalp. “Kyle, I’m so close.”
Afraid I’ll drop her if I let one hand go, I encourage her to use her own.
“Finger to your clit, baby,” I groan, my hips already moving erratically as my balls draw tight to my body.
One of her hands slips between our bodies and I can feel her fingers working furiously where we are joined. The next moment she’s bucking in my arms, and my own yell of release drowns out her cries.
When I catch my breath, I pull out and let her slide down my body until she finds her feet, but I don’t let go.
“Health issues?” I prompt her. I may have been too eager to inquire before, but I still would like to know.
“Can we dry off first?” she asks, looking uncomfortable.
Five minutes later she takes a seat on the edge of the bed, slipping her feet into a pair of Chucks.
“I have an eating disorder.”
I finish buttoning up my jeans and perch on the edge of the dresser. It doesn’t come as a surprise.
“Okay.”
She seems a little startled by that simple word.
“I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with food, and with my body, even before I started acting. You know what it’s like, it’s all about the image.” She bends over to tie her laces, although I suspect it’s more to hide her face from me. “When I passed thirty, people were telling me I’d better start watching myself because the camera adds extra pounds.”
“I’ve heard that. Always thought it was a myth,” I tell her and she lifts her eyes, shaking her head.
“It’s true, actually. I did stupid things to my body, took diuretics, laxatives, did cleanses until that was all I was putting into my system. Whenever I wasn’t on set, I was trying to burn calories. Treadmill, running, jumping rope, whatever I could. My hair started falling out, my skin was awful. One thing led to another, and to another, until I was so sick I could barely muster the energy to get out of bed. One day, Miles showed up and found me passed out beside the toilet. He called an ambulance.”
She shakes her head again, this time at herself.
“Anorexia nervosa.”
“Yeah, and it was ugly. The producers of the show gave me the option to either get myself into an inpatient treatment facility, or I was out of a job.”
“The hospital stay that son of bitch Coxwell told the cops about?”
“Yup.”
“And I’m guessing the Prozac was part of your treatment?”
“Right again,” she says with a fake smile, trying to make light of the topic, but I see the uncertainty in her eyes. “Anyway, lots of testing was done during that time and they discovered I was sterile.”
“Pituitary gland failure?” There are lots of medical problems that arise from starving yourself and that is one of them. Luckily reversible in most patients.
“They suspect it was preexisting. Especially since over time the outcome remained the same—as did my depression. That’s why I was on antidepressants for a few years.”
Her agent is even more of a piece of shit than I already considered him to be, and I feel anger stirring my blood.
“Come here.”
“Why?”
“Annie-chan, come here.”
When she’s close enough, I pull her between my legs, trapping her in my arms.
“I’m not a violent man,” I confess. “I’m supposed to be a healer, but right now if that fucking agent of yours was here, it would take an army to stop me from ripping him apart, limb from limb.”
She drops her forehead against my shoulder and leans her weight into me as she chuckles softly.
“My knight in shining armor,” she mumbles, humor lacing her voice.
“Damn fucking right I am.”
23
Annie
“Behind you!”
I almost jump off the couch when Bryce yells out. I immediately turn around, but it’s too late…I already see the gun flash.
It’s quiet for a moment as my final life drains out of me, but then the controller is plucked from my hands.
“Afraid you’re a lost cause, babe,” Kyle says on my