Unforgettable: Book Two (A Hollywood Love Story #2)(8)

“You bitch! You’re ruining my outfit! It’s Versace! You’re going to pay a pretty penny to replace it!”

“I’m not even going to take it to a tailor,” retorts Moneypenny, straddling Katrina and holding her down while she screams and writhes.

My eyes stay riveted on her full, heart-shape arse, and I have the burning desire to spread those huggable cheeks apart. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, M always preached. Scott the Bot meanwhile hoists me higher. I’m now about twenty-five feet in the air. In a few minutes, I’m going to be fish food.


Katrina and Moneypenny continue to go at each other madly, exchanging every expletive in the dictionary. They roll about on the floor. Hissing. Gnawing. Scratching. Fisting. Clumps of hair go flying. It looks like Katrina has the upper hand, stabbing her adversary with the spiky heel of her killer stiletto. Again and again and again.

“Die, you fat bitch!” she screams.

“You die first!” rasps back Moneypenny after another blow. To my utter astonishment, she reaches into her impressive cleavage and yanks out a shiny six-inch knife. She holds it over Katrina. Katrina’s eyes flicker with terror.

“Don’t you dare kill me!” she shrieks. “I’ll give you anything you want! All the money in the world!”

Moneypenny slowly lowers the knife. “There’s only one thing I want, and it’s not your money. And besides, my name comes with it.”

The knife is millimeters from Katrina. Her face is frozen with fear. Moneypenny holds her fierce in her gaze.

“Rot in hell, bitch!”

“Noooooo!”

Katrina’s mouth never closes as Moneypenny plunges the blade into her chest. Splat! My nemesis lets out a deep groan as her right breast deflates and jelled liquid seeps out from the three-inch tear in her jumpsuit.

“Ha! I always new they were fake!” Moneypenny smiles with smug victory and then looks up at me. “Hang on, James!”

My eyes stay on her as she dashes over to the pulley that’s hoisting me. With a whoosh, she slices the cord like a swashbuckler. I fall thirty feet to the ground, but it’s a hell of a lot better than falling into a tank full of man-eating piranhas. I’ve always preferred hard surfaces.

“James, are you okay?” asks a concerned Moneypenny, squatting down beside me. Wasting no time, she cuts though the binding rope and sets me free.

Slowly, I sit up, facing her. I give her nose an affectionate flick. “I like a girl with a knife.”

She grins. But not for long. The smile on her face falls off and her eyes grow wide with terror. “James, watch out!”

I spin around like a top. Fuck. Scott the Bot, who’s programmed to kill me, is coming at me at breakneck speed.

“Die, Bond.” Two monotone syllables. A lethal laser shoots out of one arm, but I move out of harm’s way just in the nick of time. On my next breath, I reach into the breast pocket of my tuxedo and pull out my Beretta. I aim it and fire. Bang! I get the automaton right between the eyes, leaving a bullet-sized hole. And then I fire the gun two more times, aiming for his eyes. Bang! Bang! Double bullseye! His eyes pop out of their sockets, hanging on by mere springs. Deprogrammed, the bot spins around in crazy circles until he collapses onto the floor with a clang.

I rotate on my arse again and face Moneypenny. A seductive smile lights up her face. “And I like a man with a gun.”

“Miss Moneypenny—”

“My name is Zoey.”

“Zoey.” I love the way her name rolls off my tongue. All these years together and I never knew her first name. It’s as beautiful as she is. My cock rises to full attention.

Then, her face grows serious again. “Oh, James. If you died, I’d—”

Tilting up her chin, I silence her with a fierce kiss. She melts into me. It’s as if her soft lips have always belonged on mine. Her tongue finds my tongue and they dance together, swirling and twirling, as if they’ve done this forever. She fists my hair, and her supple breasts press against my chest. I can feel her nipples harden like bullets beneath the fabric of my tux. She moans into my mouth. I want to f*ck her more than I want to serve Her Majesty. I want her to be mine. She will be mine. I’ve never failed at a mission.

I break the kiss and reach for a handful of the rope.

“James, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to properly thank you for saving my life.” Q always told me actions speak louder than words. On my next heated breath, I twist the rope around her wrists, binding them together, and then attach them to a floor-to-ceiling metal pipe. Seeing her tied up like this makes my cock crazy with want. Without wasting a second, I scrunch up her little dress to her hips and rip off her scanty lace panties. I take whiff before tossing them. It’s like I’ve inhaled a drug. I can’t wait to get more. Sitting back on my calves, I spread her legs and bury my head between her thighs. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. Her * so pink and glistening. I can’t wait to taste her. My talented tongue darts out of my hungry mouth and dips into her carnal lips. Jesus. She’s more delicious than I even imagined. I greedily lick and flick her sweet slickness.

Arching back, she moans. “Oh, Sir James.”


Her calling me sir only gets me more excited. None of my Bond girls ever called me that though I was knighted. Such respect and submission.