Page 20 of Wardrobe Malfunction

Vaughn West has a semi over me.

The things that is doing for my self-confidence right now.

I feel like doing an air punch. And possibly another twerk.

But, of course, I’m a professional, so I pretend not to notice. Expression schooled—and I can’t even begin to tell you how hard that is, pun intended—I say to him, “Okay, a few more pins, and we’re done.”

I take a pin from the cushion and turn the fabric in to pin it. As I move my hand, my knuckles accidentally—and, I swear, it’s an accident—brush against him. His hips jerk forward right as I’m pushing the pin in the material of his pants, and—

“Jesus! Fuck!” he yells, jumping back away from me.

I stare up at him in shock.

Oh, shit. No…

Please no.

I just stabbed Vaughn West in the cock with a pin.

I just stabbed the world’s biggest movie star. With a pin. In his cock.

I snap into action, leaping to my feet. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I just did that! It was an accident, I swear! I can’t believe I stabbed you in your cock! I mean, penis! Oh, Jesus.” I cover my face with my hands.

“Ball sack.” He moans a pained sound.

I drop my hands. “What?”

“You got me in my ball sack, not my cock. Jesus, fuck, this hurts! What did you stab me with? A knife?”

“A pin. And it was only a small one.”

The glare he fixes me with makes me want to piss my pants.

“I really am sorry. So, so sorry.” I wince.

I’m so fired.

“Let me help you.” I move toward him, but he backs away from me.

“Seriously, stay the fuck away. I can’t believe you just stabbed me.”

“Pinned.”

He glares again.

“Sorry,” I mumble, dropping my gaze.

“Vaughn?”

“What?” he snaps.

“The pin…it’s still in…there.”

His eyes follow mine down. “Jesus Christ,” he groans.

“Do you want me to pull it out?”

“No, I don’t want you to fucking pull it out! I’m not letting you anywhere near me ever again. You’ve probably just killed all my best swimmers. I swear to God, if I lose a ball because of you—”