A San Francisco boy.
Famous actor and model.
Renowned playboy.
Damaged lover.
And a heartless robot.

He needs to fix his reputation.  I need money for my sister's treatment.

Everything about us is fake ... but sometimes the line between fake and real can get blurred.

Enrique Blackburn turned himself into a robot.  Untouchable.  Emotionless.  The quintessential bachelor of the silver screen.

He doesn't do love.  He can never say the words.  Especially not to me, his contracted phony girlfriend.  

But despite the consequences I let him take my breath and steal the things I know.  Like fire on fire, he burns himself into my heart.  And that's the last place I want him to be.    

We made an arrangement.  We agreed to a contract.  No sex.  No love.  No relationship.

Can I unfold him?  Can I make this real?  Can I make him find his heart?

But most importantly - can I make him say the words?

The Actor's Contract

Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house) 


I feel his need pressing against my hip and resist the urge to let out a whole hysterical laugh. “Sport … " 


“Yes,” he feathers kisses down my neck. My brain shuts down. 


“I … eh … " Oh hell I’m stuttering. I let out a low laugh and try to push him away. “I want you. I do. But I still want to hurt you too. Because you always hurt me … but that’s just who you are … and I know that … you’re a player and actually it’s not your fault … you never led me on … but still I need you to feel the same pain … it’s pitiful but …” 


He cups my face and kisses me … most likely to shut me up … and frickin hell it’s working - here hauled up against the very sexy, very warm, very hard body of the man I love I’m totally speechless. 


Payback