Page 3 of Bend

Les leaned to one side and flashed Evan a smirk. “That’s bedroom talk, sweetheart. Keep it under wraps.”

I put my hand up, trying to roadblock that avenue of conversation. “Please don’t ever make a sex tape.”

“Too late,” Les whispered, and I thumped the list on the table.

“Moving on, for fuck’s sake. Warner wants to do an interview later tonight. Says he’ll be quick about it, though.”

“That’s fine. He mentioned it earlier—god that look on your face. He really rubs you the wrong way, huh?” Les cocked his head to one side, scrutinizing me. “Or does he?”

Eli rubbed me some kinda way, but lately I wasn’t sure it was all wrong, just annoying. “I don’t like his type. You know that.”

“I vetted the hell out of him.” Evan gave me a smile I knew he meant to be reassuring. “You know that. You know I wouldn’t pick the wrong guy. It’s going to be amazing publicity for us. For everyone. Just wait.”

* * *

Les:Can you tell Eli we need to move the interview to tomorrow, then figure out the scheduling?

Mars:Tonight doesn’t work anymore?

Les:Not any more, no

Mars:okayyyyy

Les:We’re busy right now.

Les:Or, we’re about to be

Mars:Gotcha

I groaned, unfolding myself from the tiny fucking bunk in my sleeping compartment and tossing aside the paperback I’d been reading. I pulled up Les and Evan’s schedule again for tomorrow, ready to text Eli, then decided fuck it; we’d be going back and forth forever trying to get our timelines coordinated. At every stop, Eli’s team usually spent several hours doing “local color” shoots and interviews, sometimes in the mornings, sometimes in the afternoons. I didn’t keep track, but it seemed like they were constantly on the way to some place or another, and for such a small crew, they had a surprising ability to be everywhere.

I tied the drawstring on my pajama pants, slid my feet into a pair of flip-flops, and walked one car down where Eli and his crew had their sleeping cabins. Les texted me again just as I got to Eli’s door.

Les:Nothing too early plz if possible

Mars:Yes princess

Les:I don’t approve of this nickname

Mars:If the tiara fits…

Les:Don’t make me fire you again

I grinned. He’d threatened it a billion times and had never followed through once. I closed out the text, pulled up the schedule again, and was about to knock on the door when something stopped me. I don’t know what. Maybe a flash of movement or shift in light or possibly some newly discovered perv radar, but I dropped my hand back to my side and peeked instead through a tiny crack left uncovered by the interior liner curtain the rooms came equipped with to pull over the windows of the sliding doors for privacy.

Eli’s profile was to me. He had one leg stretched out on the bed, the other braced on the floor, and he hunched over the laptop that was also on the bed as he typed furiously. He was shirtless, some kind of intricate vine work tattoo running across his chest and down the side of his ribs. Good work, too. I studied it for a second, then studied him, how concentration slanted his brow down, a fierce intensity of focus I didn’t typically see on him for all the smirks he was usually tossing in my direction. His chest was well-defined but not overly muscular. Just sleek. Everything about Eli was sleek. Even his profile looked elegant.

He fit what I’d consider a city boy all the way. I wasn’t much for pretty boys, but my cock gave a little twitch that said my interests were broader than I’d thought—or wanted them to be.

He finished typing, closed the folder next to him, then tossed it on the floor beside him and leaned back in the bed, rubbing his shoulder, then idly stroking his chest before his hand kept traveling down to the bulge in his pants. Was he gonna…? Shit, he sure as hell was. My jaw went slack, and I knew this was where I was supposed to either knock or move the hell on.

But did I? Nope. Instead, I paid my first ever perv toll to join the Peeping Tom club and stood there frozen in place as Eli slid his hand inside his pants and stroked himself. It was leisurely and unhurried, like he wasn’t fully committed to the act yet. The nonchalance struck me as sexy as hell. He shimmied his shoulders against his pillow, getting more comfortable, then let his head fall back, shutting his eyes as he let go of himself to arch his hips and ease his pants down on his thighs until his cock popped out and slapped against his stomach. My hand absently went for my own cock until I remembered that I was standing in the hallway, and I made a fist, instead.Move, I told myself.Not yet, my feet and dick chorused.

Eli folded one arm behind his head and wrapped his other around his dick, committed now, his nipples hard and dark, his hips undulating to meet the glide of his hand. Smooth, rhythmic, hypnotic. Fuck me. He slowed, swiped his thumb over his head, spreading around the precum oozing from his slit, then started up again. He trapped his lower lip between his teeth, lips peeling back, and I swore I could feel the moan of pleasure I knew was coming out of him racing through me. For the love of… what the fuck was I doing? I dragged in a deep breath that felt like it had nowhere to go, took a step back, and walked back to my cabin in a daze.

I’d give it ten minutes, then come back. Surely that’d be long enough. And it gave me time to knock one out on my own, because fuck if I wasn’t panting with the need to unload now. Over Eli fucking Warner.

I’ll be damned.