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CHAPTER THREE

Austin

Another weekend. Another party. Another night of me casually surveying the room to see if Kane had decided to make an appearance.

I kept telling myself he wasn’t the only reason I’d decided to score a last-minute invitation through a friend, but that was such a blatant lie I couldn’t even bring myself to try for more than a few minutes. The truth was I did want to see Kane again. I just didn’t know why .

For the past ten years, things had always been filthy and casual and fucking perfect, so why the fuck was I suddenly stalking his Instagram like one of his obsessed fans? It wasn’t like I needed his dick—I got plenty of action at work—and it wasn’t like his company was particularly inspiring considering half our conversations were dirty talk and the rest was straight up teasing and flirting. And it wasn’t like we talked outside these events either.

I didn’t think I’d ever messaged him and I was pretty sure I’d never had anything from him. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know if I had a way to reach him outside of his official social media and that would be heavily managed by his publicist. I couldn’t exactly slide into his DMs and hit him up for a fuck when I knew someone else was reading it—it would totally blow the shroud of mystery and subterfuge we’d carefully managed to keep over our situationship.

There was not a single logical reason for me to be here looking for him.

But here I fucking was anyway.

Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with me?

“Many things,” said a sly, warm voice from beside me and I glanced over in shock to see Kane lounging on the sofa next to me, drink in hand. The sofa was one of several tucked up against the wall, giving the guests a place to lounge, drink, and chat in comfort. I’d picked it because it gave me a fairly good view of the room without being as noticeable as the bar.

“What?” I asked, still getting over my surprise at him turning up next to me. How the hell had I not noticed him? The man wasn’t that subtle. Or sneaky. Or graceful. He’d once tripped over the fucking hallway carpet outside my hotel room and nearly smashed a vase.

So much for all that boy band dance training.

“You asked what the fuck was wrong with you,” Kane said, sipping his drink. “And I replied.”

I stared at him, momentarily thrown. Had I really said that part out loud? Fuck, I was feeling off tonight.

“Well,” I said with a smirk, trying to recover my footing. “Nobody’s perfect. But I’m as close as you can get.”

Kane snorted. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Hey, I’m just telling the truth.”

“Most people who say that are assholes,” Kane said flatly. “And you’re not the exception to the rule.”

I put my hand on my chest and slid a little closer to him. “Ouch, you hurt my feelings.”

“Oh no, what a shame.”

“It is a shame.” I fluttered my lashes at him and smiled, wishing I could put my hand on his thigh but knowing this was too public a place to risk it. Instead, I lowered my voice and said, “You should kiss me so I feel better.”

“Not going to happen,” Kane said.

“Not at all? Or not here?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Of course there is, kitten,” I said playfully, watching his expression dance between amused and irritated. It was like he wanted to be annoyed at me but couldn’t quite get all the way there. Usually, I was a damn gentleman and I’d help my partner get whatever they needed, but this was one situation where I didn’t want to tip Kane over the edge. If I did, there was a hell of a lot less chance I’d get what I craved.

“Don’t call me kitten.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not your fucking pet,” Kane said. His voice had morphed into a low growl I’d rarely heard from him and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

How delicious.

“You could be,” I said, sliding even closer to him. “You’d look so pretty in a collar. And I already know you look good on your knees.”

Kane huffed in irritation but his tongue was playing with his lips and I’d known him long enough to know what that meant. He was thinking about all the times he’d dropped to his knees for me, desperately sucking my cock like it was his last fucking meal. Fuck, Kane could be such a little cock slut when he was horny.

“You look good on all fours too,” I added, letting my words ghost over his ear. Kane glared at me, his eyes burning with lust and a smidge of irritation.

“Do you ever not flirt?”

“Of course.” I shrugged. “I can be serious when I need to be. Why? Do you want me to be serious now?” I grinned. “Do you want romance? Is that it, kitten? Want me to wine and dine you before I fuck your brains out?”

Kane’s eyes went wide with shock and I could see him fighting to keep his expression neutral, even if his body had tensed like I’d struck a nerve.

See, here was the thing about doing porn that most people didn’t realise—it made me really fucking good at reading people’s body language. When I was in the middle of filming a scene, I needed to be able to know what was working and if my partner was uncomfortable or needed a break, and all the minute movements of their face and body fed into that. Because some people, especially newbies, would lie and tell me they were fine when the shaking in their thighs or the twitch of their eye told me otherwise.

And while it was easy to fake shit on camera, it always came out so much better when everyone was actually having a good time.

The fact was that Kane wanted romance… even if he didn’t want to admit it.

I could do that.

True, we’d only ever gone straight to sex but that didn’t mean I couldn’t romance the fuck out of him if that was what he wanted.

I grinned, plucked the drink out of his hand, winked at him, downed it, and then held out my hand. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get out of here.”

“What… where…”

“You want romance, I’ll give you romance.”

“But we…” He glanced around and I shrugged.

“Come on, nobody is fucking looking. And you don’t have to hold my hand if you don’t want.”

Kane’s expression wobbled. Then he stood and gestured for me to start walking, ignoring my outstretched hand. “Fine, but you owe me a fucking drink. Do you know how much they’re charging here?”

I laughed as we made our way through the crowd. Like I’d predicted, nobody gave us a second glance. “It’s fucking London and it’s a party of famous people. Of course they’re extorting us.”

“Yeah, but thirty-five quid for one cocktail is a bit much.”

“Fuck.” I whistled. “Did it have, like, fucking gold leaf in it?”

“For that price I’d hope so.”

We’d reached the exit by this point and I smiled charmingly as one of the enormous security guards pushed the door open for us. “Thanks,” I said, giving him a little wink. “You’re a peach.”

Kane snorted as we stepped out into the cooling night air. The street was quiet since it was already close to midnight, but there were a few taxis lingering and in the distance I could hear traffic. “Where are we going?” he asked as I hailed a taxi.

“My hotel,” I said, giving the address to the cabbie before I climbed inside. I was still thinking through how I might accomplish the whole romance aspect of the evening, but an idea was forming. And as we reached the hotel, it clicked into place.

“By the way, what’s your real name?” I asked as we stepped back onto the pavement outside the familiar facade of The Library. Since it was small and discreet, we’d be as safe as we could be from prying eyes here.

“Er, Kanan,” Kane said quietly. “Kanan Pendleberry.”

That definitely wasn’t what I’d been expecting. “Hmm, bit of a change to Jude Kane.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t my choice.” It was impossible to miss the note of bitterness in his voice and it sent a sudden pang of sadness echoing through my chest. It was why I’d fought so hard to escape that part of the industry and carve out my own place in the world. Because at least that way I got to choose my own damn name.

“That’s the industry for you.” I smiled softly at him then grabbed his hand. I’d held his hand before but never like this. Mostly because we’d never done anything like this. “All right, let’s go, Pendleberry.”

He laughed as I dragged him inside, the sound rich and warm and not something I’d heard from him before. It sounded real, not like the fake, practised laugh I’d heard him use in interviews or in the ridiculous documentary they’d filmed on Underground Dreaming.

Which, yes, I had watched, but no, I would never admit to. Not even under pain of death.

We headed for the reception desk, which was still staffed even at this late hour, and the pretty young man behind it did his very best to suppress his surprised recognition when I leant on the counter and smiled at him, my eyes quickly roaming across his uniform. “Hi, I know it’s late but I’m wondering if you can help me, Jacob,” I said, pouring all my charm into the words and watching as Jacob melted slightly.

“Y-Yes, of course, sir. Whatever you need. What can I do?”

“Thank you, I knew I could count on you,” I said, pulling out the killer smile that always got me what I wanted. “My friend and I have been at a party but the food was shit, the drinks were extortionate, and we’re looking to make the evening better. Is it at all possible that we could get a few things sent up to the room?”

“O-Of course, we do a late-night room service menu and I’m happy to get you whatever you’d like.”

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” I glanced at Kane, who’d deliberately moved away from me and was lurking out of sight. I shook my head fondly because it wasn’t like there was anyone else around. “I’d love a good bottle of champagne, Taittinger if possible, with two glasses and an ice bucket. Some fruit—bite sized or small, please, maybe some strawberries, cherries, things like that, and maybe some chocolate to dip them in too. Then some patisserie—macaroons, little cakes, anything like that. And if you can find a few flowers, I’d be forever grateful. Do you think you can do that? Please?”

“Yes, sir,” Jacob said, his voice hitching slightly.

“Good boy.” I smiled at him and pulled my wallet out of the back pocket of my jeans, handing him a fifty-pound note. “And Jacob, you won’t tell anyone who it’s for or that we were here, will you?”

“No, sir.”

“Perfect. Thank you very much for your help. Oh, and it’s room 513.” Because I’d been a decadent sod and forked out for a suite since I was going to be here filming for a few days and wanted something plush to come back to.

“Of course, sir. I’ll bring everything up as soon as it’s ready.”

“Thank you, Jacob. You really are a star.” I winked at him and then strolled over to Kane, tucking my wallet back into my jeans and pulling out my keycard. “Want to go upstairs?” I asked quietly as I reached him.

“What were you—”

“Just sorting a few things out,” I said, sliding my hand into his. “Come on, kitten. Upstairs. I’ve got something I think you’ll like, and I promise it’s not just my dick.”

Kane snorted but didn’t resist me leading him towards the lift.

If Kanan Pendleberry wanted romance, then he was going to get fucking romance.