Perfect temperature.

I climb in, getting under the spray.

“Um…what the fuck is that?”

“What?” I turn to him getting in behind me.

I move to the side to give him space under the water.

“This.” He tugs on my shower cap.

“It’s a shower cap,” I say slowly. “My hair doesn’t need washing, so I use this to keep it dry.”

And then I realize that I’m in the shower with Vaughn West, and I have a fucking shower cap on my head.

God, I’m so lame.

“Yeah, Pins, I got that it was a shower cap, but is it supposed to be”—he peers closer—“a crown?”

I die a little inside.

“Uh…yeah. It’s my Queen of the Shower cap,” I mutter quietly.

Why did I tell him that? God, I’m a fucking moron.

I blame Nick. He bought it for me.

“It’s, uh…pretty.”

He’s fighting laughter. I can see it in the tightness of his eyes and the pinch of his mouth.


He picks up my shower gel and flips up the cap. “So, can you get King of the Shower caps, too?”

“Ugh.” I roll my eyes and take the shower gel from him.

“What? I’m being serious. I was thinking we could get matching ones.”

“You’re such an asshole.” I shove him.

“Aw, Pins! I’m just playing.” He catches my chin with his hand. “You’re pretty…and sexy and hot. So hot.”

His eyes darken, and his breathing changes. So has my own.

“Even with the shower cap crown?”

He grazes his teeth over his lower lip. “Even with the shower cap crown. No one but you could pull it off.”

“Now, I know you’re taking the piss.” I pull my face from his hand.

“I’m serious. You look hot as fuck.” His hands grab my waist, and he yanks me closer, my stomach pressing to his hips.

Oh. He’s hard.

“Yeah”—his eyes glitter down at me—“this is all you. You could wear a trash bag, and I’d be hard for you. I’ve been hard since the day I met you.”

Oh, wow.

I turn him on even when I’m wearing a ridiculous shower cap. Go me!

“So, now that you’ve made me hard with your sexy shower cap crown, I think it’s only fair you service your King, Princess.”

“Queen. Get it right. And I don’t see you wearing a crown. Real royalty outranks Hollywood royalty. So, get down on your knees, King of Hollywood.” I smirk, totally teasing him.

His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, his eyes flaring with something hot and dirty, making my thighs clench.

“As you wish, my Queen.” Then, he drops to his knees, lifts my leg, hooks it over his shoulder, and puts his mouth on me.

“God,” I moan, dropping the shower gel, my hands going straight to his head.

“King, baby, and don’t you forget it. And, if you’re a really good girl, after I make you come with my mouth, I’ll let you sit on my throne.” He flashes me a grin and then puts his mouth back on me.

Cocky bastard.

But he can be because he’s that good.

And the King of Hollywood spends the next thirty minutes making me come with his mouth and then fucking me from behind like I’m a whore, but the whole time, he still manages to make me feel like a queen.


I watch Charly as she brushes her hair in front of the mirror above the dresser. I love the colors in her hair. So different. So her.

She’s wearing this white sweater that stops halfway down her thighs. I think it’s supposed to be a dress. But the killer is the boots…black and over the knees…destined to be wrapped around my waist.

God, she’s so fucking sexy. I want her again already, and I only just had her.

She finishes up with brushing her hair and puts the brush in her bag. “Right. I’m ready.” She turns to me, swinging her bag over her shoulder, the ton of bangles on her wrist clanging together. “Do you want me to leave first? Or you?”

My brows draw together. “Um, neither. We’re going together. I texted Aiden. He’s on his way to pick us up and take us to the studio. Alex is bringing me some fresh clothes from the hotel, so I’ll get changed when we get there.”

“Um”—her eyes practically bug out of her head—“Aiden knows where you’ve been? And Alex, too?”

“Yeah.” I give an easy laugh. “How do you think I got here last night? And how do you think I knew which room you were in? Aiden brought me, told me your room number. And of course Alex knows where I am. He’s my PA.”

“I thought you didn’t want people knowing about this.” She gestures a hand between us.

“I don’t,” I say softly, still feeling like a monumental dick that I’m hiding her like I’m ashamed of her when it couldn’t be further from the truth. “But they’re my inner circle, Pins. They work for me. I can’t not tell them where I am. And I trust them. They’ve both been with me for years.”

“Okay,” she says easily. “But I can’t drive in with you.”

“Why not?” I frown.

She rubs her forehead with her fingers and pins me with a look. “Because nothing says we’re fucking like your driver bringing me to the set.”

Okay, she makes a good point.

“How do you normally get to the set?” I ask.