Dimi looks to be deep in thought. “There is, but it would mean trading our privacy and integrity for a quickie.”
“Just to be clear, you’re referring to the quickie we”—I gesture to him and then me—“are going to have, not a quickie one or both of us would need to have with someone else?”
He rolls his eyes and grabs my hand. “Yes.”
“I’m okay with that,” I tell him as he tugs me along the hallway to the lobby.
We approach the concierge desk, and the woman there looks up with a warm smile. “Dimi! Hey, congratulations on the show tonight! I heard it was fantastic.”
“Thanks, Tamara.” He leans close. “I need a favor.”
Her eyes widen and she leans in too.
“This is Jason, he’s—”
“Your boyfriend,” she cuts in, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I love being Dimi’s boyfriend, but I do work here in my own right. And hello, I directed the fantastic show she heard all about.
“Right,” he says. “Anyway, Jase and I need somewhere private to… talk. Could you unlock one of the meeting rooms for us?”
Oh hell. He doesn’t actually think that’s going to work, does he? What was with that little pause? She’s not going to believe we just want to talk.
Sure enough, she hesitates. “Dimi, we both know you’re not going to talk, and letting you f—” She looks around for guests, then lowers her voice. “Do that in a meeting room is going to get me into trouble.”
I knew she’d say no, but disappointment still sits heavy in my stomach.
“How about a trade,” Dimi offers. “I’ll tell you something about me and Jase that only Derek, Trav, and Grant Davis know—and they’re busy socializing at the after-party. You could be the first one to share.”
I’m speechless. Gossip as currency? This place….
Tamara bites her lip and thinks about it. When she finally shakes her head, I honestly believe she’s on the verge of tears.
“I wish I could,” she says, and yep, it sounds like she’s about to start crying. “But the meeting rooms are guest spaces and they’re available 24-7. Someone could wander past and hear you.”
I guess that’s it then. I have to respect her integrity, especially because Dimi and I just threw ours away.
But Dimi’s not done yet.
“Compromise?” he suggests. “What about the janitor’s storeroom outside the day spa? The spa is closed at this time so it’s really unlikely anyone will be near there.”
Her whole face lights up.
“I guess that would be okay. And you’ll still tell me the secret?”
I don’t think I’ve ever had to work this hard to have sex before.
“Of course,” Dimi assures her. “In fact, I’ll tell you right now. Jason and I just said ‘I love you’ to each other.”
A hand covers her mouth. “Oh! That’s so fabulous! I’m so happy for you guys.”
Moments later, she’s programmed a key card to give us access to the storeroom in question.
“We’ll bring it back,” Dimi promises, and she waves us off with a misty look in her eyes, even as she picks up her phone and begins texting.
Dimi leads me through a maze of corridors to the part of the hotel where the spa is. The lights here are dimmed.
“I feel like the spontaneity has been sucked out of this moment,” I say as I wait for him to swipe the key card over the reader beside an unmarked door.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t still have fun.” He opens the door and gestures for me to precede him.
Inside, the “room” is really more of a closet, lined with shelves that hold cleaning and maintenance equipment. The overhead light is glaring florescent, and I honestly can’t think of a less romantic place to have sex. Maybe a bathroom while someone is taking a shit in the next stall.
Don’t judge me for the mistakes of my youth.
Dimi crowds in behind me, pulling the door closed and, at the same time, turning off the light. The tiny space plunges into darkness.
And suddenly, I’m in a dark room with Dimi pressed up against me.
Hello.
He kisses my neck, then runs his tongue up the side until he reaches my ear.
“I love you,” he whispers. It seems romance is alive after all.
I turn in his arms, and our mouths meet, tongues tangling in a wet, impatient kiss. I yank his shirt free of his pants and get to work on his belt. It’s taking too fucking long, and eventually I pull my mouth free so I can concentrate all my attention on the issue. Not being able to see and being distracted by how amazing he tastes makes it too hard.
No pun intended.
I finally get his pants open and sink to my knees, sliding down his body the whole way. Dimi groans, and a wicked little smirk tugs at my lips.
Going down on Dimi in the dark is amazing. I had no idea the lack of light would add so much to the experience. I’ve always liked sucking cock—there’s such a huge power rush—but having to do it entirely without sight is…. Wow. There’s the thickness of him stretching my mouth, his smell, his soft skin under my fingers. Nothing new, but yet all new, and so much more intense.
His hands are in my hair, holding my head, but he seems content to let me drive. Finally, though, he tugs me off. “Do you have a condom?” he gasps, and I shake my head in the cradle of his grip.
“I didn’t think we’d need one tonight. Do we need one? I can just finish you like this.” I hear a thud that could be his head falling back against the door.
“Sure,” he says faintly. “If that’s what you want, I guess I can make the sacrifice.”
I grin in the darkness.
“You’re such a giving guy.” Lightly, I stroke my index finger over his balls, and his whole body shudders. “I’m sorry, was that uncomfortable?”
“It was awful,” he says, voice strained. “Do it again.”
So I do. And this time, I suck the head of his dick at the same time. The sound he makes has my already stiff cock going hard enough to pound nails.
It’s not long before he’s tugging on my hair again. “Jase, I’m gonna….”
He’s so sweet to warn me, but I want everything he has to give. Seconds later, he shouts something incomprehensible and comes.
I lick him clean, relishing his hissed-in breath—he’s always sensitive after coming—then get to my feet and kiss him.
“I love you,” I murmur finally, and I feel him smile against my lips.
“I love you. Your turn now.”
***
We’ve been gone close to two hours before we rejoin the party, and we’re both sex drunk and feeling amazing.
I don’t even feel guilty that we left the party when we were supposed to be working the crowd.
Well, not very guilty.
At least, not until we get there to find that the reviews are in.
“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Trav exclaims, a tablet in one hand and a drink in the other. “Look!” He thrusts the tablet toward us and nearly overbalances. Derek, amused, steadies him.
Dimi takes the tablet and I crowd in beside him. We read Laurie Henderson’s review. Then Mitch Craig’s. Then the ones by the critics from Jacksonville and Atlanta. One from an LA entertainment site. A few more.
Finally, I lift my gaze to meet Dimi’s. He has a crazy grin on his face.
We did it.
***
It’s past dawn before the party breaks up. To keep people’s interest, Dimi and the events and marketing people packed all the VIPs up in buses and moved the party from the Village to one of JU’s swanky themed hotels—one with a ballroom that opens onto a pool area overlooking the river (which is manmade, in case you’re wondering. It runs through most of the complex and is really a canal, I guess). Most of the guests stick around to watch the sun rise over
the river before the clever events people usher them away to take advantage of a buffet breakfast and be taken back to their hotels for a nap before heading home.
Dimi smiles tiredly at me and takes my hand. “You didn’t want to go to the buffet, did you?”
“Hell no. Let’s go home.” These all-night parties were a lot easier thirty years ago. Heck, even twenty years ago.
We officially relieved our assistants of duty about five hours ago, but they hung around for the fun—plus I think they both appointed themselves our guardians, because they checked in a few times to make sure Rick hadn’t caused any trouble. I see them now, talking to Derek and Trav, who somehow both manage to look as fresh as daisies. Trav should be in the throes of a hangover by now at the very least, but he’s bright-eyed and looks ready to start the new day.
“I guess we should say goodbye,” I concede, even though it’s an extra forty-five-second delay to getting horizontal. Dimi chuckles and pulls me toward our friends.
Huh. “Our” friends. I like that.
Although speaking of friends… “Has anyone seen Brice and David?” It’s been a couple of hours since Brice started a conga line around the pool. Yes, seriously.
“They’re at the buffet,” Chloe says with a grin. “Brice said he plans to eat until he feels sick, then sleep the day away. He did tell me to remind you that you’re welcome to hide out in their room if you want?” She sounds a little confused by that, since we haven’t had a chance to tell her about the plan for today. I’m too tired to recount the whole story now, so I just shrug and say, “Thanks, Chloe.”
“Seth and Malcolm left a few hours back, but they said to tell you they want to meet tomorrow morning. They’re going to hang around a few days, and I guess since your branch of the business is the reason they’re here, you get the first meeting. Expect to get the formal request via the app sometime today,” Derek informs us.
A few months—or even a few weeks—ago, I might have been nervous about that. But not today. Dimi and I kicked ass, and I fully expect this meeting to be congratulatory, with maybe a side of “let’s increase your budget.” The gleam in Dimi’s eyes tells me he’s thinking the same thing.
We say our goodbyes and head back to my place, because it’s closer by about ninety seconds, and fall asleep within minutes.
Only to be woken by the shrill ring of a phone.
I groan, because it’s mine. Dimi pulls his pillow over his head as I roll toward the edge of the mattress and gracelessly clamber to my feet. By the time I get to where I dropped my pants earlier, the ringing has stopped. I’m tempted to just leave it and go back to bed, but—
BRRRRRIIIING!
Yep. What the hell possessed me to choose such an annoying and obtrusive ringtone?
I snatch up my pants and dig the phone out. I don’t know the number on the screen, but since I blocked Rick’s number, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s just calling from another phone.
“Hello?” I mumble, swiping a hand over my face. I pull my phone away from my ear to check the time. We’ve slept nearly six hours, which is pretty good.
“…can’t find you anywhere and none of the staff will give me your address,” Rick is saying.
Fuck me, I would hope not. Is he nuts?
“None of the staff knows my address,” I tell him, “and even if they did, they’d get into a lot of trouble for giving it out. Rick, I’m sleeping. It was a long night last night. Can this wait until I’m awake?”
I can practically hear him pouting. “Fine,” he huffs. “When can we meet?”
In the bed, Dimi sits up, looking far more awake and alert than me. I roll my eyes at him.
“You’re staying at the Chateau, right?” I’m pretty sure that’s where we put the highest-profile VIPs. He makes a noise of agreement, so I say, “They have a small terrace lounge on the fifth floor—let’s meet there at five. It’s closed at that time, but I can get us in.” That exclusiveness will appeal to him, but more importantly, it means we’ll be private. No chance for a public scene that can be recorded by a tourist’s iPhone and uploaded to the internet. Although depending on how long he draws it out, waiting until five might mean I’ll have to hustle to get to the theater.
A thought occurs to me.
“What time is your flight?” No way do I want to delay his departure.
“Don’t worry about that, this is more important,” he says breezily.
Um. No.
“Don’t throw money away.” My dislike of wasting money even though I have plenty was one of the things he threw in my face when he left, and I figure reminding him of that right now can’t hurt. Plus, I want him on that plane.
He hesitates, hopefully remembering how much he apparently hated living with me, then admits, “It’s at five thirty.”
I instantly reassess, because he’s getting on that plane if it kills me. “Why don’t we meet in forty-five minutes?” There will still be some VIPs floating around, but if we stick to the terrace lounge, hopefully we can avoid them.
“That would be great. I can’t wait to see you… I’ve missed you.” He lowers his voice in that way I used to find so sexy, but it does nothing for me anymore.
“Yeah, see you soon.” I end the call and sit down on the side of the bed. I’d really hoped to snooze a bit more, fool around with Dimi, have a long, hot shower and a decent meal while checking off my to-do list before going to the theater for tonight’s show.
“I’ll call the Chateau and warn them we’re using the terrace lounge,” Dimi says, crawling across the bed to kiss my shoulder. “Better to get it over with sooner and make sure he’s on that plane.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Thanks.” Wait. “You can’t come with me.”
He pauses while rummaging through his pants, presumably looking for his phone. “What?”
I shake my head. “I need to do this alone, Dimi. He… he made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. I let him make me feel that way. It’s taken me a long time to rebuild my self-worth, and I need to do this now without having backup there.” It sounds faintly ridiculous, but it really means something to me, and I hope he gets that.
He studies me for a long time, then sighs. “Yeah, okay. I’m letting my ego get in the way here, but this isn’t about me.”
Have you ever given a small child something they really, really wanted and watch their whole being just light up? That’s how I feel right now. Like I’ve lit up from the inside out.
“I love you.”
We said it last night, many times after that first weird public declaration, but it bears repeating. It means something. Especially now. My man loves and respects me enough to push aside his own instinctive need to “protect” me.
His expression softens, and he drops his pants and comes back to the bed to kiss me.
A few minutes late won’t hurt.
***
Rick’s waiting when I get to the terrace lounge at the Chateau, and he’s scowling. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Fortunately, some accommodating staff member unlocked the door so he could wait inside—or outside, as the case may be.
“You’re late,” he snaps, and I try not to feel pissed about his tone. I am late, after all.
“I had to drive in from town,” I remind him. “And I was asleep when you called. I needed a shower and coffee.” And some groping with my boyfriend. We thought about a quickie, but the fact is, I can’t get it up multiple times a day anymore, especially after a big night like last night, so we decided to save it for later.
He doesn’t look mollified. “I would have come to you if I’d known where you were.”
I take a deep breath. “Rick, none of that matters. I’m here now.”
His face changes. “You’re right, of course.” He comes forward, arms reaching to me, and I step back.
“Let’s sit.” I gesture to a pai
r of chairs and then plant myself in one. It’s not a particularly roomy chair, but that’s fine—it means there’s definitely no way for Rick to join me in it. Not that that was something he ever used to do, but then, he never used to act like I was so eminently desirable, either. Not since that first year we were together.
A momentary fear seizes me. Is Dimi’s interest going to wane after the first year, too? Will I become a pair of comfortable old socks, and then eventually a pair of threadbare socks that causes blisters, just like with Rick?
No. Even this early in our relationship, there are notable differences. And now is not the time to be worrying about something that may never happen.
Rick drops into the other chair and leans forward to take my hands. I draw them back, beginning to feel like I’m in some kind of farce. Shit, how to begin?
“There’s been a lot of upheaval in both our lives over the past couple of years,” I venture cautiously and watch as a repentant expression crosses his face. He’s always been a good actor—not up to professional standard, but good enough to fool most people.
“We got too complacent in our relationship. We forgot how much we love each other and let ourselves get distracted by the world.”
Ooookay. That’s not quite how I remember it.
“You’re right, we got complacent in our relationship. I got complacent. I was so comfortable in my life that I ignored all the signs that—” Nope, calling him a cheating dickbag is not going to help things. “—uh, that I wasn’t really that happy anymore. I needed a change. This move has been great for me, and Rick, as wonderful as our life together was for so many years, we really just grew apart.”
A flurry of emotions takes over his face. Anger, hurt, regret, fear… and that last is one I can understand. Starting over is hard, and in my own storm of bad memories, it’s easy to forget that Rick was betrayed too. He’s the bad guy in my story, but he has his own cheating ex… and his story was splashed across tabloids and gossip sites all over the country. It would be so easy for me to walk away and say he got what he deserved, but as much as he hurt me, aren’t I in a better place now? My career is just as solid as ever, and I’m loving the challenges involved in this new venture. My real friends have rallied around me. I’ve made new friends. And I have Dimi. Honestly, the last few years—maybe even as many as the last five—with Rick, I was just going through the motions. I told myself I loved him, but the truth is, I was just too comfortable in my life to realize that we’d both changed in different ways over the years.
Follow My Lead: A Joy Universe Novel Page 20
