Page 32 of Velvet and Valor (Platinum Security: Shadows of LA #4)

“Hey, Axel,” Bastian says wickedly. “Is there going to be an actual MOVIE at this movie premiere party?”

Axel, who had been about an inch away from kissing me, sighs and turns to face Bastian.

“As I’ve explained about a million times, the film is AFTER the party.”

“Why is that?” Bastian asks.

“Because if the party is after the film, nobody will show up for the actual movie,” Axel says. “They’ll just come to the party afterward. This way we can guilt everyone into walking downstairs to the theater after they’ve had their whores d-vores.”

“It’s pronounced hors d'oeuvres,” I say helpfully.

“Isn’t that what I said?”

Bastian snorts. “You don’t have to worry about guilting anyone from the Security firm. Jax made attendance mandatory for everyone who isn’t on assignment.”

“Now that’s a boss I can get behind,” Axel says.

“You won’t be saying that after you get your new assignment,” Dane says, joining us with two glasses of champagne in his hand. I assume one of them is for his lady, Selene.

Axel looks at him with alarm.

“Why? What’s my new assignment?”

Bastian snickers. “Don’t worry, lover boy, it won’t take you out of LA,” he says. “You don’t have to sleep by yourself for long.”

“Any time at all is too long,” Axel grumbles.

“It’s been almost a year since we started dating,” I point out to Axel. “We’re at the stage where our relationship can survive a short separation, I think.”

“Sure, we can survive,” Axel says, putting his hands around my waist and pulling me close. His eyes glow with the soft light of affection. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Axel kisses me, and I dimly hear Bastian telling us to ‘get a room.’ I gently break away from Axel and put my hands on his chest. “We need to schmooze. I am a producer on this film, after all.”

He takes my hand and we stride over to make our rounds. As much as I’ve looked forward to this night for what feels like ages, I’m anticipating going home with Axel even more.

“What happens to a dream deferred?”

I curl up next to Axel, the leather sofa beneath us squeaking softly. The Langston Hughes biopic plays on the silver screen above. We’re up on a balcony, overseeing the rest of the theater.

“It looks like the audience is loving it,” Axel whispers in my ear.

I smile and turn to face him. His tie has come undone. I reach up and tie it back into place.

“This is Cannes, Axel,” I say. “The most generous of audiences for this type of project. We’ll just have to see what the general audiences have to say about it.”

“General audiences? I thought you were just a small, struggling art-house studio head. What do you care about general audiences? You want the film critics, the art-house snobs—”

“Yeah, yeah, I want to make some dollars, too,” I reply, punching him lightly on the arm. “More money means more projects.”

Axel cocks an eyebrow. “You know, our story would make one Hell of a movie.”

I roll my eyes and groan. “Axel,” I hiss in a fierce whisper. “We have been over this and over this. It’s too ludicrous! No one would believe it was a true story.”

“It’s not the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he replies. “You hear some stuff in the trenches.”

I give him a look.

“What?” he asks.

“When was the last time you were in a trench? I mean, an actual trench and not a metaphor?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, and laughs softly.

“Okay, so I’ve never been in an actual trench…but you know what I mean.”

Axel kisses me, slow and sweet. I cup his face with my hands and give as good as I get. The lights go up, and the audience applauds. It takes me a moment to realize the spotlight is on us. Sheepishly, I break off the kiss and look around to take in the accolades.

“That was embarrassing,” I say.

“Nonsense,” Axel replies. “You know you just added to your legend. Besides, the stars and the director are getting most of the attention.”

It’s true. In fact, it looks like we might be able to slip away without being assaulted by the press corps.

“We have little chance of getting a taxi,” I say.

“Our hotel isn't far,” he says. “We can walk.”

I look down at my strappy shoes and sigh.

“In these heels?”

His response is to sweep me off my feet, literally this time, and carry me out of the theater’s side exit. I throw my arms around his neck and laugh, kissing him and pressing my face into the nape of his neck. I inhale deeply of his scent, basking in his masculine aroma.

The chaos of the Cannes Film Festival buzzes outside the hotel window, a cacophony of clinking glasses, laughter, and flashbulbs popping like distant fireworks.

Inside, the room is silent except for the sound of our breathing—mine shallow, his deliberate.

Axel leans in, his lips crashing against mine with a hunger that steals the air from my lungs.

His hand grips the back of my neck, his fingers firm, unyielding, as if he’s staking a claim.

“Mm—Axel—” His name escapes me in a breathless whisper, but he doesn’t pause. His kiss is a command, not a request.

I fumble with his tuxedo, my hands trembling as I yank at the bowtie, the buttons, anything to rid him of the barrier between us. He doesn’t help; he lets me struggle, a small, smug smirk playing on his lips as he watches me unravel.

Before I can respond, he pushes me down onto the bed, my evening gown bunching around my waist as he hikes it up with one swift motion.

His hands are warm against my thighs, spreading them apart with an ease that makes me shiver.

Axel’s breath comes hot against my skin as he trails kisses along the inside of my leg, each one a slow, deliberate tease.

“Axel—” My voice cracks, and I clutch at the sheets, my knuckles whitening as his lips inch closer to where I need him most.

“Say it again.” His eyes flick up to meet mine, and there’s a glint of something predatory in them.

“Please,” I whimper, my hips arching toward him.

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through me.

His mouth finds me, and I gasp, my head falling back against the pillows.

His tongue is relentless, his movements precise, as if he’s mapping every inch of me.

My hands tangle in his hair, tugging, but he doesn’t stop.

If anything, he doubles down, his teeth grazing my skin as he bites through the delicate fabric of my panties, tearing them away.

My breath hitches, and I’m already on the edge, teetering, when he dips his tongue inside me, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core.

“That’s it,” he growls, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place. “Let me hear you.”

I can’t hold back. My body arches off the bed, a scream tearing from my throat as I come undone beneath him. He doesn’t let up, drawing out every wave until I’m shaking, my legs trembling as I collapse back onto the bed, still thrashing with pleasure.

My body still hums with the aftershocks of my own pleasure, but I can’t stop myself.

I reach for him, my fingers wrapping around his cock with a firmness that makes him groan.

His eyes lock onto mine, dark and full of something I can’t quite name—desire, yes, but something deeper, something that makes my chest tighten.

“June,” he growls, his voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot. It’s a warning, but I don’t care. I’ve never felt this bold, this sure of myself. I want to give him this, to make him feel even a fraction of what he’s made me feel.

I lean in, my tongue tracing the length of him, slow and deliberate. He hisses through his teeth.

I take my time, savoring the way he reacts to every touch, every flick of my tongue. His body is tense, coiled like a spring, and I can feel the effort it takes for him to stay still.

I work him with my mouth, my hand, my tongue, every movement calculated to draw out every sound, every shudder.

He’s not quiet, not by any means, and the sounds he makes—deep, guttural, almost primal—send a thrill through me.

I’ve never felt like this before, like I’m in control, like I’m the one giving him something he needs.

When he finally comes, it’s with a low, guttural groan that seems to come from deep within him. I swallow every drop, my eyes never leaving his. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, and I can’t help but feel a sense of pride. I did that. Me.

The hum of the film festival outside fades into white noise as Axel’s weight presses me into the mattress.

His hands grip my wrists, pinning them above my head with a control that’s both infuriating and exhilarating.

I arch against him, my breath hitching as his lips find the curve of my neck, teeth grazing in a way that makes my pulse spike.

His fingers slide down my arms, trailing heat, before one hand slips between us, gripping my hip with a possessiveness that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. The other hand shifts to the small of my back, arching me against him.

My mind is a whirl of sensation, his body a heat source I can’t escape—not that I want to. His cock presses against me, insistent, and I shift my hips, inviting him in. He doesn’t hesitate, sliding into me with a groan that’s half frustration, half relief.

“June,” he cries, his rhythm quickening, each thrust deliberate and deep. His hands roam my body, fingers digging into my skin as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of me.

“I’m yours,” I moan, the words spilling out in a rush. My hands claw at his back, nails digging into his skin as I pull him closer, desperate for the connection. His breath hitches, a sound that’s almost a laugh, and he leans down to capture my lips in a kiss that’s all teeth and hunger.

When I come, it’s with a cry that he muffles with his mouth, his grip tightening as though he’s afraid I’ll float away.

But he’s not done—far from it. Before I can catch my breath, he’s rolling me onto my stomach, his hands on my hips, pulling me back against him.

I brace myself on my elbows, the sheets tangled beneath me, as he thrusts into me again, deeper this time.

His hands slide up my back, fingers pressing into my shoulders as he leans over me, his breath hot against my neck. You’re perfect,” he murmurs, the words raw and unfiltered. His rhythm falters for a moment, and I feel the shift in him, the way his body tightens as he gets closer.

I reach behind me, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “Axel,” I gasp, my voice breaking as I feel the tension snap, the waves of pleasure crashing over me again.

He buries his face in my neck, his groan muffled against my skin as he follows me over the edge, his body shuddering against mine.

For a moment, we stay like that, his weight on me, his breath hot against my skin. Then he shifts, pulling me into his arms as he rolls onto his back.

I curl into him, my head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat. His fingers trace patterns on my skin, a lazy, contented touch that makes warmth bloom in my chest.

Outside, the festival continues, the sound of laughter and music drifting through the window. But here, in this room, the world is reduced to the two of us, and I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.

“So,” Axel says, “I’m thinking Matt Damon could play me.”

“Only if Scarlett Johansson plays me,” I say.

Axel’s mouth falls open. I kiss him before he can react.

“I love you,” he says when he can speak again.

“I love you, too. Now, do you want to go out and face the press, or would you rather–”

The sounds of the festival drown out my delighted squeal as Axel pins me to the bed.

Looks like we’re staying in tonight.

If you liked Axel and June’s story, you’ll love going back to the origin of Platinum Security with Jax and Easton in Dark Kisses.