Fix It Up - Mary Calmes Page 0,94
time together, and now, suddenly, you’re supposed to trust me because I say so?”
I sat up and stared out the window at the night sky, at the clouds and the big, bright moon that gave a soft ambient glow to the otherwise dark room. “You really should go back downstairs. Everyone is here to see you, and it’s not fair that––”
“Don’t do that,” he whispered, feathering his fingers through my hair before he tightened his hand and turned my head so I could see him. “Don’t withdraw behind the whole professional-mask thing of yours.”
“Nick––”
“And that kid thing was really shitty.”
“Sorry,” I said automatically.
“You’re not sorry. You actually believe the whole, ‘you’re young, and I know what’s best for you’ crap you spew.”
“I do know what’s best for you, though,” I said tiredly.
He shook his head. “I lost my shit out there,” he confessed, grimacing. “I mean, Desmond—and I had to ask someone who the fuck he was, because I met so many people today I had no clue—but Desmond, Dez, I guess…he’s a handsome man. And that handsome man was sitting there flirting with you, talking to you for hours while I was up there singing, watching you the whole time, and you guys are drinking with other guys first, and then it’s just the two of you.”
I turned my head to look at him.
“And then he was leaning in with his arm around your shoulder, and I saw him turn his head, and his mouth was––” He caught his breath. “––Jesus. I almost yelled, but I got up instead and walked over there and––”
“I was moving,” I told him. “I was getting up.”
“Yeah, I saw.”
“I mean, yeah, I’m a little out of it, but when I felt his breath on my skin, I––”
“Here,” he said, slipping his hand around the side of my neck, stroking, drawing me close. “I saw his lips part, and he was going to taste this spot right here.”
“I would never have let him.”
“I know,” he husked, closing the space between us to kiss me.
It was gentle for a moment, before he slipped his tongue between my lips, parting them and then devouring my mouth, hungrily, possessively, pushing me down until I was flat on my back, and still he took and claimed until I had to shove him off me for air.
“Nick,” I moaned softly. “You need to––”
“Tell me, and don’t lie,” he demanded gently between voracious kisses. “Are you embarrassed that you love to bottom?”
“No,” I said truthfully. “It’s what I like most of the time. Sometimes I don’t, but it has nothing to do with me outside of this room.”
“Then you were hurt because you thought I shared something that was just between us.”
“Yeah,” I admitted under my breath.
“Then we’re back on the same page,” he murmured, his hands on my T-shirt, lifting it over my head and off. “Now, take off your boots and your socks, your jeans and your underwear, and lie down on the bed.”
“You have people to––”
“After a fight?” He almost choked on the words. “You expect me to leave you after a fight?” His brows furrowed. “That’s not going to happen. That will never happen.”
“You came here to see these people and film a documentary and write your album, and I’m distracting you, and that’s not––”
“I swear to God,” he said, chuckling suddenly, his eyes glinting in the moonlight, “your superpower is arguing. You could medal in the Olympics.”
I scowled at him.
“But see that…now…” he said, sighing. “Your ‘Nick’s annoying the shit out of me’ face, that makes my dick hard.”
“Nick––”
“Take off your clothes,” he ordered, and it was soft, but I heard the demand underneath.
“You really need to––”
“Please, baby,” he husked.
The pleading tone and his eyes in the dark—I wanted to fix it, for everything to be like it was, and in that moment I felt his pull on me for the first time, my desire to have him want only me. It would become necessary if I wasn’t careful.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pulled off my boots, one after the other, peeled off my socks, and then stood and worked open my belt.
He came around the bed as I shoved my underwear and jeans to my thighs, and he tore down the covers before he toppled me back onto the mattress.
“Not helpful,” I teased him, liking the look on his face, all heat and need.
Gently, like he was going slow on purpose, careful not to manhandle me, he took hold of the