by Marie Force
“Is this one of your cars?”
“Nope. This one is rented because I wanted the privacy screen.”
“Why? What’s going to happen back here?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” I nuzzle her neck. “But anything is possible.”
“Mmm.” She tips her head to give me better access. “I have to tell you something Maddie said earlier when I was nervous.”
“What did she say?”
“That I didn’t need to be nervous because you’d be there to take care of me.”
“She said that?” I’m ridiculously moved.
“Uh-huh.”
“She’s right. I will take care of you, and there’s absolutely nothing to be nervous about.”
“After having my kids, this is the most exciting thing I’ve ever done.”
“I’m glad you’re excited. I am, too.”
“I’m sure it’s exciting—and scary—to know that people will see the film for the first time tonight.”
“It is, but that’s not the main reason I’m excited.”
“It’s not?”
I shake my head. “My date for the evening is way more exciting than the film. In fact, this is the first time I’ve ever taken a real date to one of these things.”
“Stop. I am not more exciting than the film you’ve spent years working on, and I can’t believe you’ve never brought a date.”
“You are far more exciting than the film, and I usually don’t want the bother of having to tend to a date when I’m working, so I usually go with an actress or model who also doesn’t want the bother of romantic entanglements at a work thing. But tonight…” I nuzzle her neck. “Tonight, I’ve never been so happy to be thoroughly entangled, and I can’t wait to tend to my date after the work is finished.”
“I can’t wait either,” she says, sounding breathless. “What’re we doing later?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Her hand moves over my inner thigh to cup my erection. “Will it involve some of this?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is. I want it.”
I groan from the blast of lust that burns through me. I love how she says whatever she thinks, that I never have to wonder what’s on her mind or what she wants. “Keep it up, and I’ll be hard all night.”
“I want to keep it up,” she says, rubbing me shamelessly. “Will this do it?”
I grab her hand, not because I want her to stop, but because I don’t want to come in my pants like a schoolboy getting lucky for the first time.
“You’re no fun,” she says with an adorable pout.
Scowling playfully, I say, “I’ll show you fun. Later.”
“That’s a long time from now,” she says with a sigh.
“Believe me, I know.” I’ve been thinking about our private after-party from the time I left her bed this morning. She’s almost all I thought about on a day when I had many other pressing matters I was supposed to be focused on. “By the way, you’re doing a number on my concentration.”
“Am I?”
I love this coy, playful side of her. “You know you are, and I may need to punish you for it when I get you alone.”
Her cheeks flush and her eyes go big with surprise and what might be curiosity. “How will you punish me?”
“There’re so many ways.” Thinking about them doesn’t help to quell the throbbing ache in my groin.
“Give me an example.”
“I could spank your sweet ass until it’s hot pink.”
She swallows hard. “And that would count as a punishment?”
Holy fuck. Is she saying she’d like it too much to consider it punishment? “All depends on how it’s administered.”
“How would you administer it?”
“It hurts a little more with a paddle than with a bare hand.”
When she squirms in the seat next to me, I rest a hand on her inner thigh and drag it upward, encountering a flash of heat at her core.
“Does it turn you on to talk about this?”
“Incredibly. I’ve been reading up on it, and I want to try everything.”
Jesus. I’m not going to survive this woman. The thought of her reading up on BDSM kills me.
“I’m not saying I’ll like it all, but I want to at least try.”
“We need to change the subject. Immediately.”
“Why?” she asks, her brows knitting adorably.
“Because I don’t feel like walking around all night with wet pants.”
“Oh,” she says on a long exhale followed by a giggle.
“It’s not funny.”
“It really is.”
“Mocking your Dom will earn you another punishment.”
She curls her hands around my arm and lays her head on my shoulder. “Okay.”
I’m dying a slow painful death from desire, and her sweet capitulation only makes the ache that much worse.
The premiere is filled with celebrities, paparazzi and flashes exploding in our faces as we walk the red carpet in the broiling late-afternoon heat. I’m actually walking a red carpet in Hollywood, on the arm of the man I love. This is like a dream I’m going to wake up from any minute now. I try to take it all in, so I can tell the kids about it tomorrow.
We’re at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, made famous by the celebrity handprints pressed into the sidewalk. Kristian points to a grouping of handprints to the left of the carpet. “Those are ours.”
It’s overwhelming and exciting at the same time. I’m about to say something to him about the Quantum handprints when the world seems to tilt, and I’m hit with a head rush. For a brief, sickening moment, I fear I’m going to pass out.
Because he’s holding me so closely, Kristian immediately realizes something is wrong. He tightens the arm he has around me and gets me out of the warm sunshine and into the cool relief of the theater. He eases me onto a bench and sits next to me. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. I was fine, and then I wasn’t. This is better. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize. Do you want to leave?”
“No!” That’s the last thing I want to do. “I just need a minute.” It’s been months since I had one of the episodes that had frequently come over me during my treatment, leaving me dizzy and nauseated and sometimes disoriented. I’ve been pushing the limits lately and not getting enough sleep while I prepared for the move and then settled into my new home—and then spending my nights making love with a sexy man rather than sleeping.
Sleep is the furthest thing from my mind when I’m with him. I suppose it was only a matter of time before it caught up to me. The pervasive fatigue that followed me through treatment has lifted somewhat recently, but this episode is a reminder that I’m still recovering. I need to be careful or risk a setback. That’s the last thing I need with everything in my life going so well.
“What can I do?” he asks, his concern palpable.
“Nothing. I’m okay. I just needed to sit for a minute.”
“Are you sure? We don’t have to stay.”
“Yes, we do. This is your big night. I don’t want to miss it.”
Kristian waves down a theater employee. “Would it be possible to get a bottle of water, please?”
“Of course, sir.”
“I’m okay,” I tell him again, touched by his concern.
The employee returns with the water, and Kristian thanks him. He opens it and hands it to me. “Drink up.”
“Yes, Sir.”
His eyes blaze with heat, but before he can comment, Flynn, Natalie, Hayden, Addie and Marlowe join us. Natalie immediately senses something is up.
“Aileen was feeling woozy,” Kristian says before she can ask. “Might’ve been the heat.”
“Are you better now?” Natalie asks.
“Much.”
“They’re opening the doors,” Flynn says.
“We’ll be right in,” Kristian replies.
While the others head inside, Kristian stops me from getting up with his hand on my arm. “Take one more minute. Finish the water.”
I hate that I’ve given him reason for concern about my health on such an important night for him—and for us. He’ll want to coddle me later rather than dominate me, and that makes me sad.
We’re the last two to enter the theater, and we’re shown to seats on the center aisle, next to his Quantum partners and their dates.
“You look gorgeous,” Marlowe says when I sit next to her.
Oh my God! Marlowe Sloane thinks I look gorgeous! “Thank you, so do you.” Wearing a black gown with her signature red hair corralled into an elaborate updo and jewels dangling from her earlobes, tonight she’s every bit the glamorous movie star the world has come to know. I feel honored to know the other side of her, the casual, funny, fiercely loyal woman who more than holds her own with her male business partners.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asks.
“I’m fine, thanks.” It occurs to me that I’ll always be the “sick” girl in this group, the one who has cancer, because I was in the thick of treatment when I met them. It’s nice that they care so much, but I hope that in time the word cancer isn’t so closely associated with me.
My thoughts are interrupted by Hayden, who stands before the gathering to introduce the film. He talks about the story in Insidious within the context of the opioid epidemic sweeping the country. “This story appealed to my Quantum partners and me because it’s the story of our generation. While preparing for the film, we spent time with families that have been touched by this epidemic, and many of them are here with us tonight. We thank them for sharing their stories with us, and we dedicate this film to the loved ones they’ve lost to addiction. In honor of Insidious, my partners and I will make a one-million-dollar donation to several Los Angeles-area treatment facilities on the frontlines of this new war on drugs.”
The announcement is met with thunderous applause.
“And now,” Hayden concludes, “I’m proud to present Insidious.”
He walks off the stage, and the house lights go dark.
Next to me, I hear Kristian take a deep breath and release it. I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze.
The film opens with a scene on the streets of LA in which a man is looking to score heroin. It takes a full minute to recognize the drug addict as Flynn. I suppress a gasp. He looks so different! It’s astounding. The film captivates me. It’s gritty and visceral and spares no punches as it follows Flynn’s character from rock bottom through rehab and the effort to put his life back together. Marlowe is fantastic as his take-no-prisoners therapist, and I can definitely see why they’re both getting early Oscar buzz.
The closing credits roll, and the theater explodes with a standing ovation, shouts and cheers.
Flynn, Marlowe and the rest of the cast join Hayden onstage for a curtain call.
I’m overwhelmed with emotion after watching the film, the same way I was after seeing Camouflage. It’s no wonder Flynn is considered one of his generation’s greatest actors. Marlowe is his female counterpart. And they’re both my friends.
I glance to my left and see Natalie wiping away tears as she claps for her husband and the rest of the brilliant cast. How thrilling it must be to play even a small role in such a production, and I begin to understand Kristian a little better as I watch him applaud his colleagues.
“Congratulations,” I say to him when the noise dies down to the point where he’ll be able to hear me. “It’s incredible.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“Everyone will think so. It’s going to be a huge hit.”
He hugs me and kisses me right there in front of everyone. “I was hoping you’d like it.”
“I loved it. I can’t wait to see it again. And I loved seeing your name as executive producer.”
“That never gets old, no matter how many films we do. To see my name attached to something so amazing…”
“You should be very proud.”
“I am, thank you.”
I love his humility, his sense of wonder, the excitement that dances in his blue eyes as he watches his partners, the people who have been his family, soak up the adulation of an appreciative crowd.
We’re escorted by security personnel to the after-party, which is held on the roof of a nearby restaurant. Waiters pass out flutes of champagne and delicious bite-size appetizers as we hobnob with Hollywood royalty. I can’t believe some of the faces I recognize in the crowd. After their big win with Camouflage last year, everyone wants a piece of the Quantum partners, or so it seems to me.
Kristian is engaged in an intense conversation with a studio executive he introduced me to, so I signal to him that I’m going to talk to Natalie.
He nods, but I can tell he wishes I’d stay close to him, and I feel his gaze on me as I cross the crowded room to where Nat is sitting in a half-circle booth with Addie, Ellie, Sebastian, Leah and Emmett. They move over to make room for me, and I squeeze in on the end next to Nat.
I’m there about ten seconds when another flute of champagne appears in front of me.
“How’re you feeling?” Nat asks. The room is loud with voices and background music. The others are engaged in conversation, so no one can hear us.
“Totally fine. Nothing to worry about. How about you?” I raise a brow that makes her giggle, remembering the news she shared earlier.
“Never better,” she says, winking.
I lower my voice even further. “It was mean to do that to me when I couldn’t freak out.”
“Maybe so, but your reaction was priceless.”
I squeeze her arm. “I’m so happy for you guys.”
“Thanks. We’re rather thrilled ourselves.”
“Have you told anyone else?”
“Not yet. We were waiting until after tonight. Everyone has been so busy and stressed out getting ready.”
“I’m honored to be in the know.”
“I needed to tell someone.”
“Thanks for picking me.”
“Now you have to tell me something no one else knows. You and Kristian? Getting busy, yes?”
“Perhaps,” I say with a coy smile.
She nudges me. “Knock it off and spill the deets.”
I find him in the crowd, laughing and talking with two other men. It’s like he has a spotlight over his head, because he’s the only one I see in a crowd of people. “I’m in love with him.”
“Oh, Aileen… That’s so amazing.”
I tear my gaze off him to look at her. “I think I have been since your wedding.”
“If you ask me, the feeling is entirely mutual. He keeps looking at you, even while he’s talking to other people. Flynn says he’s been totally different at the office this week—distracted and leaving early and generally not at all himself.”
“Is it wrong to say I love to hear that he’s as messed up as I am?”
“Not wrong at all. I’m so excited about this!”
“Could I ask you something super personal? And if it’s too personal, you don’t have to tell me.”
“Of course.”
My gaze lands once again on Kristian, because if he’s in the room, I want to look at him. “When you and Flynn were first together, how did you deal with…”
“The BDSM?”
“Yes,” I say, relieved that she spared me from having to say it. If I’m squeamish about talking about it, maybe I shouldn’t be so eager to try it.
“It took some time for him to come clean with me about his needs in that regard, but after he did, we hashed it all out. He insisted on a contract that spells out what I will and will not do. We came up with a safe word, and we gave it a try.”
“You have an actual contract? With your husband?”
“Yes, most Doms will insist on a contract so there’re no surprises in a scene. Practitioners of the lifestyle are very big on communication—before, during and after. If Kristian is a
nything like Flynn, you’ll talk more about your sex life with him than you ever have. Not that I had anything to compare it to, but from what I’m told, most people outside the lifestyle don’t have frank conversations about what they’re going to do in the bedroom the way we do.”
As a big fan of open communication in all aspects of my life, I find this refreshing. But the thought of discussing, in detail, what’s going to happen in bed with Kristian, makes me feel warm all over, particularly between my legs, where an insistent throb has my full attention. I can’t wait to be alone with him.
“How long do these parties usually last?” I ask.
“A couple of hours, but I wouldn’t be surprised if your man claims you much sooner than that, seeing as how he went to so much trouble to get you alone for the night.”
“He keeps telling me he doesn’t need the kink when he’s with me. That it’s already more with me.”
“Hmm.”
“What does that mean? Hmm?”
“I’m certainly no expert, but from what I’ve come to know about Flynn and the others, I find it surprising that he’s suddenly not interested.”
“So do I. I think it’s because I was sick, and he’s afraid to push me too far. How do I tell him I want him to push me? I want to experience everything with him. I don’t want him to feel like he has to turn off this part of himself that’s been so important to him because he’s with me now. You know what I mean?”
“I do, and you need to keep telling him that you want it so he won’t be afraid to go there with you. Flynn and I had a lot of similar challenges after what I went through in the past. His inclination was to treat me like I was a delicate flower. I showed him I’m a lot tougher than that, and we got through it. You will, too.”
“What if…” I bite my lip, trying to find the courage to express my greatest fear in actual words. If I say it out loud, then it becomes real.
“What, honey?”
“What if I can’t take it? What if it’s too much for me, and I can’t be what he needs?”
“If he cares about you as much as I think he does, he’ll adjust what he needs to what you can handle. He’d never want you to be afraid of him. I’m sure of that.”
