Baxter’s Right-Hand Man (The Baxter Chronicles #2) Read Online Lane Hayes

Categories Genre: M-M Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Baxter Chronicles Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
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I’m at the studio rehearsing with orange makeup on my face. Don’t ask, he typed.

Now I have to ask. Why orange?

They’re testing lighting and blocking for the new film. I’m a glorified guinea pig.

Oh! I want to see. I hope those photos get leaked, I teased. I can picture you now, sitting in your glamorous trailer looking like a Real Housewife who’s gone a little wild with the bronzer.

Pierce responded with an orange-faced angry emoji and a laughing one, then painted a different picture altogether, complete with a makeup artist who overdid her perfume, griped about her boyfriend, and giggled uncontrollably when her Pomeranian, Miss Dizzy, kept jumping into Pierce’s lap.

I got the impression that he stayed at the studio longer than was required because it was the one place he could roam freely without being stared at or mobbed. He made friends with the camera crews, makeup artists, sound engineers, and a medley of assistants, as well as a few fellow actors. But he didn’t seem to be close to anyone in particular.

Maybe that was why I had his attention.

It didn’t matter. I loved it.

Being in his orbit was rejuvenating. He made me laugh and took my mind off my troubles. I hadn’t heard from Tony again, and other than a passing thought that it would be nice to have the money from the sale of the house in my bank account, I’d put him out of my mind.

Easy to do when Pierce showed up on my doorstep around midnight, pulled off his motorcycle helmet, and flashed a lopsided sexy grin that resembled the one on a million billboards. Only, this one was just for me.

We came together with feverish kisses, undressing each other with our mouths fused, desperate to get to skin. It was all about the intoxicating joy of exploration, learning someone new.

For example, I learned that Pierce loved having his balls sucked, loved rimming…giving and receiving, and that his favorite position usually involved me on my knees or bent over a piece of furniture. I loved it all.

Funny enough, the secrecy turned me on. And that wasn’t like me. I usually loved everything in my life to be big, bold, out and proud. I’d always loved boisterous people and grand gestures. If I cared about someone, I wanted everyone to know how and why. But I’d wilted a bit in the aftermath of a broken relationship, and these stolen moments gave me new life.

January passed in a blur. I spent long hours at the store, selling my heart out and organizing inventory for Valentine’s Day. I visited Mr. Gowan too—once to drop off the flowers I’d meant to bring to the hospital and another time for tea and a chat. He tired easily, but he looked healthier than he had in a while. His coloring was good, and his spirits were up. According to Enid, he was doing better every day.

I could tell Mr. G wanted to ask about Pierce.

“How is—”

“Have you seen—”

He’d hesitate with a faraway look in his eye, a bony finger trembling midair, but he didn’t finish those questions. Frankly, I was glad.

The truth was deliciously X-rated, but top secret.

I glanced over at the box of tchotchkes I’d been packing, and on a whim took a photo of the heart-shaped figurine with stick legs holding a fistful of pink and red balloons, then sent it to Pierce.

What the fuck is that?

I snort-laughed. He’s part of our seasonal collection.

So it’s a Valentine creature?

Yep. Gross, huh?

Super gross. Throw it away. Stat.

I chuckled.

He’s one of a kind. I’m giving this one to Mr. G. when I see him this afternoon. Want to join me?

I pushed Send and watched three dots appear and disappear for a full minute before stuffing my cell into my pocket. Pierce was still in the midst of a positive promo campaign. There were photos of him visiting sick kids and filming a commercial for an ocean conservation awareness group.

I was even in a few of those posts. No kidding.

Pierce talked me into tagging along for short charity stops.

“It’ll take twenty minutes, then I’m all yours. And you’re all mine,” he’d coaxed while I sucked his balls and licked him like a lollipop.

“All mine” was apparently the only incentive I needed to play the role of assistant.

What can I say? I’m easy.

Miraculously, no one in my real life noticed. I was the ho-hum figure in the background with my head bent over my phone doing my best to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Which was borderline hysterical. Pierce shone like the sun wherever he went. His height, his smile, his sheer magnetism carried weight. No one could compete.

Side note: I wasn’t used to being second fiddle…anywhere. Oh, honey, I’d worn shirts a size too small for over two decades for a reason. I liked attention. However, not the kind Pierce received just for stepping out of an SUV. That was slightly terrifying.


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