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Rhonda pushes me toward my door. I stumble before catching myself. Gently, I turn the knob and walk out, reminding Rhonda to lock this place up like Fort Knox before she leaves. Turning, I hit hard muscle. My hands rest on his pecs. His large hands envelop my waist and squeeze.
I look from his dark army boots, up his torso, pausing on his thick thighs the jeans stretch around, up his black t-shirt, then stop again on his bulging muscles. Because I’m an arm girl, yeah, I said it! Arms are so underrated, but I love good arms. His are shown off by a black sleeveless shirt. One arm completely covered in ink. His hands are covered in rings on most of his fingers. It is surprisingly hot. Continuing my journey of eye fuckery, up his neck to his sinful lips.He has a tattoo of scripture behind his ear spilling onto his shoulder. Sharp as glass jaw to his God-created nose. It’s slightly bigger but not in a bad way. Okay, fine, I also like bigger noses, and this is on my radar. A gold hoop pokes out of the left side.His black hair hangs in his eyes, damp and curly. When my eyes connect with his black ones, he curls his lip in disgust. I jerk back but his hold tightens.
“You should really watch where you’re going.” His eyes narrow as he takes me in. “Do I know you?” His voice is low, barely above a whisper, creating dormant butterflies to skyrocket.
“Well, no, I’m actually—” Cut off is what I am. Rude.
“Doesn’t matter. Stay the fuck out of my way.” And with that, he releases me. I stumble into my door, my hand over my heart as I watch his retreating back.
“Yes!” Briggs claps. “That was what I was looking for! Good job, Rayne. It takes a lot to rattle Branson Lexington, but look at you.” She smiles and my eyes widen in shock because I had no clue they were even there! How could that many people sneak up on me and I did not notice? I guess because all I could notice was Branson Lexington.
* * *
The main stars, minus Branson, are all waiting in the living room when I make my way down. Heads turn, judgmental eyes narrow. And suddenly I’m frozen on the bottom step.
“Ugh.” A girl with light brown hair rolls her eyes. “They hired a fucking ginger?” My head snaps back and suddenly I find my strength to move. “Good try attempting to cover it up with the blonde.”
I ease my way into a chair so I don’t have to sit next to anyone. Not that anyone offered. “Actually, it’s natural,” I say with a sugary smile.
“Tori, leave her alone,” comes from a beautiful mocha-colored girl with curly purple hair. They are all beautiful, but she has a freedom the rest didn’t.
Tori, who I’m gonna guess is going to be the mean girl, smirks. “The carpet won’t lie.”
“Seriously?” I whisper under my breath. My cheeks are flaming with embarrassment.
Briggs comes in, clapping her hands to get our attention. Lime green suit today, by the way. Makes her black pixie cut hair pop.
“Let’s introduce everyone, starting here.” She points to Tori. “Tori Bancroft.”
Tori has shoulder-length brown hair. Perfect porcelain skin. No freckles. No blemishes. Her body is killer on her small form. But her personality makes it hard to see the beauty in her.
“Tucker Ashford.” She points to the man with blond hair and a killer smile. He has puppy dog green eyes. Seriously. Adorable in a completely hot way. He smiles, waves, and winks.
“Josefina Rivera.” This one is beautiful with her tanner skin and hazel eyes. She has a blank look on her face while she blows bubbles. Her black hair is straight and shiny.
“Dante Marino.” He is who Michele Morrone wanted to be. Deep olive skin. Golden eyes that twinkle with seduction. He wears a white button-up shirt. Sleeves rolled, exposing his delicious skin. And cigar pants. He winks and I hear a collective sigh.
“Kalisha Hart.” The girl who stood up for me. She has double nose piercings and a thousand bracelets and rings on. She gives off this vibe about not caring, and I like it.
“Kyler Pierce.” He looks like he smells of the ocean. Long wavy hair with his flannel open, showing off his body. His skin is golden and his eyes are the deepest shade of the ocean. He runs his hand through his hair with a nod.
“Emerald Lexington.” Long black hair. Her brother's eyes. Light ivory skin. She gives a shy smile and a tiny wave. Comes off sweet.
Briggs sighs like the introductions are above her.
“Justin Wilson.” Chocolate skin and athletic shorts. Looks like he works out a lot. Beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, it kind of hurts to look at him with his brilliant green eyes.
“And this,” she points to me, “is Rayne Marshall.”
Tori laughs. “This is who you hand-picked? Seriously, Briggs.”
“Shut it, Tori.” Briggs glares at her. My heart swells. “Save it for the camera.” And drops. Damn.
“Where’s Branson?” Briggs snaps.
Tucker scratches his head. “He’s, uhm. Okay, so get this, the new housekeeper?” As if on cue, moans start coming from the kitchen.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Briggs sighs. “Lexington! It’s day fucking one. Keep it in your pants and stop fucking my staff!” There’s a dark chuckle and the girl’s moans increase in pitch.
