Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
He pushes the door open and flips a lightswitch, pulling me into the small room. It’s a storage pantry full of bulk supplies for the bar. Extra bottles of fruit syrups and jars of olives fill the metal shelving units around us, as well as boxes full of paper towels, napkins, and coasters.
It smells like lime and sugar in here, in a comforting way.
My pulse steadies.
My nerves finally calm.
Being around overzealous fans has gotten a hundred times easier over the past year, but when they appear at certain times, I still want to disappear.
“Thanks.”
“Easy dodge,” he says. “Do your fans know you’re bi yet? My friends all know I am by now, probably because I never shut up about it.”
“You know I don’t care if people find out I like guys, Chase. I just don’t want them snapping pictures of me with anybody.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that anymore. I have nothing to hide about my life,” he says firmly, almost like he’s trying to prove a point. “Any exposure is good exposure. I want to sell art, too.”
He leans back against the edge of the tall shelves, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.
God.
Chase looks even better than I remembered, too.
Quitting the excessive drinking seemed to do him a lot of good, and he looks like he might have started working out more, too. Even under his uniform, I can tell he’s filled out more. He probably looks incredible under those clothes.
“So…” he says, looking down and then back up at me. “Are you going to get mad if I show up at your door?”
“Mad wouldn’t be the word I would use,” I tell him softly. “But I might think it’s a questionable idea.”
Chase nods slowly. As he paces back over to me, he’s fiddling with a thin black string around his wrist, and when he approaches me, he reaches out and puts a finger through one of my belt loops.
I know it’s just automatic for him. But it makes it feel like no time has passed since the last time I saw him.
“So you’re going to be here for two months?” Chase asks.
“Filming a movie called Silent Brutality for the next two months. I’m going to a premiere tomorrow for another movie at the Lincoln Center, and having plenty of meetings while I’m here, as always.”
I feel him give the loop a little tug.
“Are you comfortable?”
I nod. “I am.”
The air between us suddenly feels charged. It doesn’t help that we’re tucked away in this storage room, and that Chase is fiddling with my waistband and tugging at me. We stay silent for a while, and his finger roams along the edge of my pants, back and forth.
“What are you thinking?” I ask to break the silence.
His lashes flick up to meet my gaze. “You asking for the truth?”
I swallow. “Sure. I always want honesty.”
Something flickers in his eyes. “No you don’t.”
I pull in a long breath. “Just say it.”
He still looks wary. “Okay, but you can’t blame me afterward. I’m not going to lie to you.”
“Go ahead.”
“I was wondering if you miss my cock,” he says, and every nerve ending in my body is suddenly awake, hyperattuned to Chase’s eyes. “I was wondering if you ever think about it. Dream about it. That kind of stuff.”
I nod. “Thank you for your honesty.”
It feels like something in this small room could detonate at any moment.
I’m sure he notices that I don’t answer the question.
I can’t answer it.
But I don’t give him any relief on that part.
He grips my belt loop a little tighter for a moment, then finally lets it go.
“Thank you for visiting the bar,” he finally says, his eyes dancing over me. “It’s been boring as fuck without uptight old actors haunting the place.”
I puff out a laugh, and finally the tension leaves my chest.
“You can’t seriously be calling me old.”
His mouth comes up in a grin, and a dimple appears on one of his cheeks.
“Never said I didn’t like it.”
“Thanks, Chase.”
He breathes deeply, giving the door a nod. “The fans outside are probably gone. Get over here, VIP. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 12
CHASE
The moment I swing the utility closet door open, I know it’s too early.
“Woah, yo!” somebody says right as Logan and I step out of the small room, and I see that the group of fans who had been waiting by the elevators are now in front of the bar. “Is this bar open—wait, Damien! Shit, sorry. Landon Stone.”
“Logan Stone,” I correct the guy gently. He’s clearly very drunk, as are all the other people in his group. They’re wearing glittery hats, feather boas, and shirts that say I Bit Into the Big Apple.
“Right, right, Logan,” he says. “Goddamn, dude. Hey, my friend Willa didn’t get a good picture with you earlier. Can we take another?”