Free Total Trainwreck by Evie Claire Page B

More than that, there is a fat curling iron plugged in and ready.
    Powder, blush, mascara and lipstick touch-ups done, I gargle a mouthful of Listerine and spit. Needing to save time, I decide to pee while I’m curling my hair. The only problem is this damn jumpsuit has to come all the way off for me to pee. I swear, these things are sexy as hell but so annoying when a girl’s gotta go. I unhook the top snaps, unzip the waist and sit down, wrapping a curl around the iron to double-team the effort.
    Spence was right to mentally bitch slap me. Here I’ve spent my night either searching for Devon or pining over his unavailable ass. And it’s gotten me nothing. If he really loves me like he says, he’d have solved our problem by now. This night is supposed to be everything. Aboard the legendary Vincent Hugo’s infamously fabulous toy, screening my new film for the Academy members. The fucking Academy. There isn’t an actress in Hollywood that doesn’t wet-dream about moments like this. And here I am pissing it away.
    No. I’m going to get it together. I’m going to sober up. Watch my film and then charm the pants off every voting member on board. I can do this. I can totally be awesome. And Devon, well, he’ll just have to wait.
    After curling my hair, I take another look in the mirror and sigh, relieved to see a semblance of the fuckable fox that first stepped onto this yacht. Now, to get this damn bodysuit back on. I zip the waist, but am still left with two slinky pieces of black silk that need to meet around my neck somehow. Maria had to do it for me earlier. I simply couldn’t get it to hook. With drunken fingers, I’m totally hopeless. There’s a knock on the door. God bless Spence! Coming to my rescue again. I throw open the door. But the eyes meeting mine aren’t warm and brown.
    “Need some help,” he guesses by the way I’m holding my clothes together. No, not from your hands I don’t , I think to myself, and swallow hard against the breath that’s already racing through my throat. I say nothing. Standing and staring like an idiot. This is not good.
    Inside me, civil war rages. I should walk away. Show up at the party naked if I have to. I’ve given him an ultimatum he’s yet to answer. But, my feet stay planted. My arms begin to shake, tired of holding my clothes together. The only thing they want to hold is him.
    He steps around me into the bathroom and takes the black silk from my hand. “You look gorgeous tonight,” he whispers against my neck. The heat of his breath pops chill bumps over my chest. They run down me, tightening my nipples and curling my toes. His fingers carefully push my hair to the side, causing sweat to dampen those bumps. “I have to confess, when I saw his hands on you I wanted to break them.” He miraculously finishes the clasp then runs his hand over my exposed rib cage exactly where Spence’s hand went.
    “Good,” I spit through my teeth, and turn on my heel. “Now you know how it feels.” My eyes narrow and I want so badly to hate him. I dig deep, searching for that familiar angry rage. I find nothing. Devon shakes his head.
    “It’s not at all the same. I’d never touch Heather like that.” Devon’s fingers trace down my arm and he takes my hand. I stare at our clasped hands, knowing I should rip them apart. Where is that fiery bitch in me that used to be so good at this? “You’re the only one I want.”
    Now it’s my turn to shake my head. I look into his eyes, ready to turn and leave, but the hollow look darkening his gaze stops me. He’s just as lost as I am. Just as desperate to find a way back. Being apart is impossible for both of us.
    There isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t want a single part of him, and when he squeezes my hand, silently pleading for an answer, a spark so fiercely hot scorches through me I swear I’m on fire. Oh, what the hell am I thinking? I love this man. I don’t want to leave.
    “You shouldn’t be here.” My