Hands All Over // Soundgarden

The house feels different now that we're back. In fact, everything feels different, although "feels" is probably the wrong word. It's more like I put on glasses with a filter that takes the edge off the world around me. I'd been on the defense in Emily's beach house before our trip. My sense of self preservation lived under the surface, a low decibel hum of anxiety keeping me from truly letting my guard down.

And although I still feel that way for Emily–my prime directive being to keep her safe–I don't feel that way with her. It's the opposite now. I'm raw, completely open. Absolutely vulnerable to her every look. What I used to see as offensive measures from her–the way she'd stir the world around her into a frenzy of confusion–I now see for what they are; a shield from the outside world. She's dropped her guard for my sake, but I watched it rise into place as soon as we arrived at the studio for stunt rehearsals.

The entire trip back home, Emily kept a physical distance from me, only touching me when necessary and fixing her focus on the journey in front of her rather than me. We'd agreed to keep up the guise of a solely professional connection because our time to go public hasn't arrived. And yet her demeanor remained open, her smile genuine. She's been the definition of hope, something I hadn't seen in her until now.

But as soon as the car door opened at the studio, I recognized her stoic body language. I saw the shift in countenance for what it was; a defensive maneuver.

Now I'm silently seething, watching her put up a front to keep everyone else at bay.

"Listen up, everyone." Bryant shouts to the room. The cast and stunt crew turn to look at the director as they stand scattered around. Practice mats cover the floor, an indication of today's physical rehearsal. I remain in the corner, standing near the wall with my arms crossed in front of me. My eyes are trained on Emily. No one I'm concerned about has arrived yet. It's a blessing and a curse because now I'm taut as a live wire, the tension of anticipation surging through me.

Emily and Jacob stand together, laughing. If I didn't know the guy was head over heels for Char, it might stoke the spark of jealousy I feel at the sight. He's not hitting on her. But I wish she and I could have that type of easy conversation in public. Instead I'm forced to stand guard and fume, needing to touch her so damn bad my fingers ache.

Bryant claps his hands like a preschool teacher to get everyone to shut up before he launches into the task for today.

"We'll be working on stunt choreography for the rescue scene. This is the climax. The final battle between our hero and heroine and the big villain." Bryant squints his eyes and searches the room. "Who isn't here, by the way." The dude starts yelling at the top of his lungs. "For Pete's...are you kidding me right now! How in the Sam dumpster fire are we supposed to practice taking out the villain without the villain?"

His assistant pats him on the shoulder, leaning in to whisper in his ear while the rest of the room stands frozen. I shift my gaze back to Emily, taking my fill of her standing there in tight as sin yoga pants and a workout tank top that fits her like a glove. Knowing she's about to work up a sweat while I stand across the room unable to touch her is a special kind of torture.

But I'm going home with the princess so I push back my need and tell my dick he'll get his chance later.

"Hmmm," Bryant mutters after the assistant scoots away. "We'll start with our stunt double until our villain arrives."

He sounds irritated at having to wait for John, but on the other hand, I've never not heard Bryant sound irritated. It's his constant disposition. I guess that's a director thing.

"Alright, Emily and Jake, get in position."

"Jacob," Emily corrects.

"Yes, fine. Jacob." Bryant waves off the correction and hops into his director's chair to oversee the process.

Part of me hates that Emily and Jacob are close enough for her to correct the director on his name. But the other part of me loves that she cares about her friends enough to support even the little things like a nickname correction. Most Hollywood names wouldn't bother, so absorbed in themselves they don't notice things like that. But not Emily. She cares about everyone in her circle.

Including me.

I catch the look she gives me from the corner of her eye, one that tells me she knows I'm watching her and that she's happy I'm here. Her encouragement straightens my back. With a renewed sense of protection and pride, I watch as John's stunt double talks them through the maneuver.

The stuntman, Keith, stands behind Emily then wraps his arm around her neck. My nerves are on high alert at the sight but I tell myself he knows what he's doing. The guy fakes fights for a living. He says something to Emily before pointing to Jacob and directing him to stand closer.

My muscles riot against my skin, itching to jump in and protect Emily. I clench my jaw when Keith pulls Emily against him, clearly acting out the scene. Jacob lunges forward, pulling Keith's arm away from Emily's body. She drops to the ground, crawling away, as Jacob spins with Keith's arm still in his grasp. Then Jacob flips Keith over his shoulder and flat onto his back on the mat.

The two men slap hands in a high five while I glance at Emily to make sure she's good.

She sits a few feet away with an enormous smile on her face.

"That was textbook," Keith says loud enough for me to hear. Not two seconds later, the door to the studio space opens and John saunters in, sunglasses still on like the dipshit he is. The asshole smirks to the room, his ego on display. He's a character actor, not a leading start. He has no basis for his inflated self image, but it isn't uncommon in this town.

"Glad you made it," Bryant mutters when John pulls his sunglasses off and tilts his chin to the director.

"Couldn't be helped. You know how it is in this town. Always need to be in two places at once." He smirks as he speaks, the picture of narcissism.

Bryant grunts something unintelligible. John saunters to the area where Emily and Jacob are working. I watch on high alert as John takes Keith's place. As Keith shows John where to grab Emily. She looks back at John, requesting him to mark the movements rather than go full out this first attempt.

A gleam of sadistic satisfaction shines in John's eyes when he takes position behind Emily, wrapping an arm around her neck. John pulls back, going full and blowing off Emily's request.

Emily winces.

I move, my strides eating up the distance between them and me. I'm on John less than 5 seconds later, shoving his arm away from Emily. Her eyes pop wide when she takes in the absolute fury that must be written on my face. I put my body between them, Jacob yelling something but I'm too fueled on adrenaline to decipher it. Keith ushers Emily to the side while I glare at John.

If he showed an ounce of shock at my actions, or at remorse for his, I might have already backed down. I might feel ashamed at overreacting. But everything I see in John is awareness. He knew what he was doing and he knows why I bum rushed him. The fucker set me up.

"Interesting," he smirks. "I see she's already got her claws in you. Anita read this situation pretty accurately."

I say nothing but continue leveling a dark glare at him.

"Bryant!" He calls out, eyes never leaving mine. "Can we get this gorilla out of here? He's a bit unhinged. Guy doesn't know the difference between a threat and a stunt."

My jaw is so tight my teeth might crack. My nostrils flare as I pull in air like a raging bull. He's right. I'm unhinged. But not because I was fooled by stunt practice.

I read that guy's body language perfectly. And he knows it.

"Keep it professional," I manage to grit out, glaring.

He laughs sardonically. "You should take your own advice, son."

"John, you know this is a tech rehearsal," Keith says, giving me a look. He read the same intention from John that I did. "Dial down the aggression."

"I don't half ass my job, unlike some of you."

He means me. I could give less of a shit what he thinks.

"Javier stays." Emily states with arms crossed. Her demand is firm, but the look she gives me isn't. She pleads with her eyes for me to stay in the background.

I don't want to cause more problems for her, but I don't want John manhandling her either. I catch Keith's attention then shift a side-eye over to John, silently signaling for Keith to keep John under control. He nods in understanding. I'm only slightly reassured until Jacob gives me a hard look telling me he's just as pissed about John's actions as I am.

They go again, but this time John appears to mark the move rather than grab her with force. However, Jacob does not mark his move. Instead, he shoves John even harder than he had Keith and really throws John over his shoulder. The guy lands with a thud on the mat, grabbing his chest with a deep grunt.

"Holy shit, Jake. I thought we were marking it?" John cries.

"Well, I don't half ass my job, Johnny." Jacob leans over John, looking him in the eye. "And the name is Jacob, remember? It's the name in big bold font on the movie poster, three times the size of yours."

Although I love the back up from the guy, I wish it was me telling John off.

Which is actually bullshit. Because what I actually wish is to punch that guy right in his smug face. But I can't

Because I'm keeping it professional.

I catch Emily's eye, the look on her face telling me I'm doing a crap job of keeping it professional. The way I feel about her is anything but. It's possessive. It's protective. The way I feel is hot and aroused and needy. I want her next to me, touching me, looking at me the way only she can.

What I don't want is to blow this up before we can make it more, take it deeper. But I'm willing to wait. I'm willing to look like an unhinged asshole bodyguard if it means she feels protected. But I will not let a piece of shit like John, or an overbearing parental figure like Anita, push me away.

I don't second guess myself for the rest of the afternoon. I keep my distance and my glare. I watch John like a hawk but he behaves himself for the entire rehearsal.

It isn't until much later, when we're back at home and my guard is down, that I start to worry I've gone too far.

Not until my phone rings with a call from Clinton whose first words are, "We need to talk."

He's full on bull dog in this one. But we love a protective man, don't we?! There may be consequences for his actions, however...

PLUS just one more month until Not Another Player releases in Kindle Unlimited! I can't wait for you to read the new version of Jacob and Char's story.

Hands All Over is again a mood song for Javi. He's pissed and this song sounds as angry as he is.

https://youtu.be/sQOOgQtLI4M