Though he didn’t mind the subject change.

“Let’s go get iced tea. I need the caffeine rush for your blowjob.”

Rush looked into her pretty blue eyes.

And he smiled.

Tawny Kitaen

Rebel

Seven thirty-seven, Tuesday morning . . .

We were kissing.

I was on top, Rush inside. I was moving slowly, enjoying the feel of him filling me, gliding him out, taking him again, while his arm rested almost casually around my waist, the fingers of his other hand tangled in my hair, our mouths connected.

That morning, in my bed, it was just us. No drama had just occurred. No imminent nightmare was on the horizon. No relatives down the hall or about to show with donuts.

We could kiss. We could fuck. We could take all the time we wanted. We could be as loud as we wanted. We could be together, as close together as we could get, and get to know each other even better.

And after, I could make him my egg and bacon cheesy buttermilk biscuit sandwiches.

It was already shaping up to be the perfect day.

And we could use that.

For certain.

I knew Rush was ready to get busy when he rolled me. Linked my fingers in his. Lifted my hand over my head close to the crown and pressed it into the bed. His other hand going between us so he could roll my clit with his thumb.

I slid my hand down his spine and grabbed his ass.

We kissed through it, my fingers tensing in his, his tensing in mine, his rhythm speeding up, the force of his thrusts ramping, the pressure of his thumb increasing.

Until I broke the kiss and whispered, “Rush.”

Then my eyes closed, my neck arched, I clutched his flesh and it rolled over me, lazy and long and beautiful.

His came before mine was over, but I got to hear and feel and watch a bit before he tucked his face in my neck and gently sucked me there.

He didn’t let go of my hand and he didn’t stop moving inside me until he couldn’t do it anymore.

But he still didn’t let go of my hand or stop his lips working my neck.

“Happy anniversary,” I said.

His head came up. “What?”

“We met a week ago today,” I reminded him.

He stared down at me, those gemstone eyes a little hazy with residual sleep (I woke him up to get down to business), fucking, coming . . .

And being with me.

“That seems impossible,” he muttered.

“Well, it’s not official until later. You and your brothers hijacked me in the evening.”

“Babe, that is impossible.”

“No, it isn’t. A week ago today.”

“If you’re counting the hijacking, we met last Monday.”

“Oh,” I mumbled.

Shit, he was right.

Damn.

We missed our anniversary.

He gave me a sweet smile, rolled us to our sides and took our linked hands to his chest, pressing in and not letting go.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Okay, well then the anniversary of the first time we kissed,” I amended. “And now that phase one of celebrating is done, we’re going on to phase two and I’m making breakfast.”

His smile got bigger. “Babe.”

I made a move to pull away, saying, “I’ve gotta get on that. The biscuits take a while.”

His hand tightened in mine and he rolled slightly into me, preventing my exit from the bed.

“Babe,” he repeated.

I looked back into those eyes. “What?”

“Hate to remind you of this, but you’ve been off set for days. Your cast and crew just lost their funding. We don’t yet hold the title, but when we do, the brothers did not vote to fund one final porn film. And they won’t. Since they don’t want them, they’ll be down with taking the proceeds of Bang and infusing them in Luxe. But again, we don’t own that yet and it’ll take time to liquidate. You still need to convince the brothers about your plan, so you gotta write it. This means your crew needs to know the state of play. There’s a lot of shit to do and I’m thinkin’ breakfast sandwiches don’t factor into that.”

I stared at him, thinking about my cast and crew and the fact they were out of jobs until I could sort stuff out.

And some of them would be out of jobs until we got through post production, distributed the last film, and got cash flowing so we could start up again.

Further, I wanted to do the Chaos film first, and the way that was forming in my head, that would not take much crew, if any at all, and it definitely wouldn’t need a cast.

My eyes drifted to the window behind Rush as the realization this insanely cool boon was also a burden.

“Rebel,” he called softly.

I looked to him. “My Benito money.”

“Say again?”

“All that money I made for the last eight months. There’s a lot, Rush. I’d have to go over the figures, but I think, with that, I can keep production going with payroll for at least a week. I can call a meeting today with the cast and crew, share what’s going down, close production for this week. Start back up with my cash. The stuff gets signed over, we can begin the liquidation process, feed that money in to keep things rolling. We only have two, maybe three weeks left on production. I can bank any further monies. I do the cuts myself. Editing, laying over music, bringing the cast back for any reshoots needed, I’ll use that bank. Get the DVDs burned and distributed, the last film gets done, proceeds go into the coffers for my indie, and in the meantime, I can start on Chaos.”

“You got that all planned pretty quick,” he murmured.

“I need to call Meryl,” I told his scruffy jaw. “Get her to call a meeting this morning. So I need to get in the shower.”

I’d pulled free, rolled, but didn’t make it when an arm hooked at my belly, hauling me back in.

“You need cover, Rebel,” Rush said into my ear.

Oh shit.

I twisted my neck. “Anniversary present?”

When he looked harassed I went on swiftly.

“The only time I’ll ask. Promise. And I’ll try to make it fast. Though there’s a lot to go over. Me being Rebel, not Tallulah. Why I was Tallulah. The fact they’ll have to take a week off without pay.”

He sighed.

“Outside of, you know, having to ask when I get back to work, if this situation hasn’t settled yet,” I finished carefully.

He stared at me before he sighed again.

Then said, “You’re lucky you’re a great fuck.”

I grinned.

“And got great hair,” he went on.

I grinned bigger.

“And fantastic legs.”

My grin got seriously toothy.

“And beautiful cheekbones.”

That surprised me. “Beautiful cheekbones?”

Another sigh.

“Baby, you pretty much got beautiful everything, which means I’m fucked.”

I did not grin at that.

I turned in his arms and laid a wet, sloppy kiss on him.

He rolled to his back, pulling me over him, and let me.

We went at it for a while before Rush broke it and reminded me, “Production meeting?”

“Shit!” I cried, then in a flurry of pillows and limbs flying, I jumped out of bed.

Nine forty-five that morning . . .

I stood in front of my cast and crew in the cavernous space that was the studio for Luxe Films, the area behind them dressed as a romantic dinner set, all of their eyes on me.

“So there are no guarantees,” I continued laying it out. “We feel good the handover will go smoothly, but further funding is dependent on the liquidation of Bang. If the handover happens, however, I’ll be personally funding production until assets can be sold. My hope is, we’ll finish this film. But I have to be honest with you, after that, things are up in the air. So I’d ask for you to stick with me, even though I understand it will be a hardship. But I do it with forewarning that you’d be advised to get your resumes out there because once we wrap, I don’t know what the future holds.”

“Mr. Valenzuela is out?” Sharon called.

“It’s my understanding he will be by the end of the week,” I told her.

“Fuckin’ brilliant. That guy gave me the willies,” Darinda, one of my camerawomen muttered.