“Oh, you know I’m a man of my word, Rockstar,” he teases, but his voice has an edge to it that has me thinking of his sexy smirk and those intense brown eyes peering down at me as his skin rubs against mine.
And my next words are breathless, full of anticipation. “I’ll see you tonight?”
“Can’t wait.” We hang up, and I take a deep breath, trying to recalibrate myself.
“That was like watching porn,” Rose whispers, and I almost jump out of my skin because I forgot they were there. “But the good kind that wins prizes in Cannes.”
“Ilovea man who initiates a booty call.” Giselle fans herself, and I roll my eyes.
“Not a booty call,” I correct. “He called to invite me to watch a recording session with Rig Romero tomorrow.”
All the girls squeal and rush to me with excitement except for Rose, who goes from flushed to blanched in seconds.
I untangle myself from the fangirl attack and walk over to her. “You okay, Rose?”
“Yeah, just feeling a bit under the weather all of a sudden.” She rubs her stomach. “Must be that vegan poke bowl I ate for breakfast.”
“I told you it looked fishy,” Tia says and comes to Rose’s other side, wrapping her arms around the petite redhead and pulling her against the soft curves of her luscious figure. “Want me to make you some tea, honey?”
“No, I think I’ll head home for the day. Call in sick.” Rose smiles weakly. “Thank you.”
“I have an out of office errand to run for Joanna. I’ll make sure you get home okay.” Tia squeezes Rose again, and Rose nods, letting Tia usher her out.
“What was that all about?” Hattie wonders, and I shrug, looking at Gisselle, who seems just as baffled as we do.
My phone pings, and I absentmindedly pull it out, unlocking the screen without too much thought.
“Dios mío!” Giselle exclaims and twists my hand, so the screen full of a shirtless Michael in ass-hugging jeans, ink fully on display and ahow you doin’ gaze paired with that up to no good grin is facing her. “Lucky bitch.”
“Aren’t you engaged to a man that gives you multiple orgasms on a daily basis?” I ask in a dry tone, raising an eyebrow at Hattie, who is peering over my shoulder with her jaw dropped in awe.
“Ramon has many qualities,” Giselle replies with her eyes still fixed on my phone, “and I would never replace him for a million Michaels, but he cannot pull off the tattooed bad boy look.” Giselle tilts her head to the left. “You get to climb that man candy, Chica. At least let a girl enjoy the view.”
Hattie hums her affirmation, and I sigh in annoyed resignation. “Ten seconds.”
“Is that how long Jason would last?” Giselle asks with a smirk that reminds me why I love her, and both Hattie and I burst out laughing as I return my phone to my pocket.
“You’re hopeless,” I declare through bouts, and Giselle winks at me, both of us waving at Hattie as she makes her way back to her own floor, still snorting and wiping away tears.
Giselle and I keep chatting through our work about the upcoming events I have with Michael, the second cocktail attire event next week, and the country club brunch right after, and I realize how much has changed for me since Michael came into my life, how many chances I’ve taken. On him, on these girls, but most of all—on myself.
And I don’t think I could ever go back to the way I was before, scared and small, and for that, I will always be grateful to him.
Chapter Twelve
Michael
“Okay.”I exhale and shake out my limbs. “You’re not a horny teen. Get a grip.” A deep inhale, and I open the door to the loft, greeted by the scrumptious scent of Lauren’s cooking. “Honey, I’m home.”
“Hi, Cupcake.” Lauren lifts her head from the chopping board to smile at me, but the second our eyes connect, any semblance of civility is gone.
She drops her knife, and I drop my keys; we meet in the middle devouring each other as we try to get our hands onto skin. I push down her shorts and rip off her panties before pulling a condom out, tossing my wallet to wherever as Lauren works my belt and jeans open. I tear the foil and lift Lauren onto the counter, and she finishes pushing my jeans and briefs off with her toes, my cock springing free, and I roll on the condom in record speed, sinking deep into her wet warmth with a moan.
Lauren wraps her long legs around my waist, shorts hanging off one ankle. “God, Mikey,” she pants, desperately urging me with her heels. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
I pull back and thrust in deep, and Lauren whimpers with need.
“Me too, Rockstar.” I repeat the motion, the tension in my body begging for release, so I start going fast and hard. “I’ve been burning for you.” Pound, pound, pound. “To be inside your tight body.” Pound, pound, pound. “Feeling you come.” Pound, pound, pound, pound, pound. “Fuck, Lauren, I need you to come, come for me, oh fuck.”