23. Stargazing

CHAPTER 23

STARGAZING

MYLES SMITH

The shower became useless the second we stepped in, since we’ve been standing under the water kissing the entire time. Slow, sensual kisses. Hard, needy kisses. We’re doing our best to make up for the days she’s been back home instead of here with me.

Until we hear Devin and the dogs come home.

“Oh, come on, man!” he yells from downstairs. I assume he’s in the kitchen. I’m not sure where her panties ended up, but the rest of our clothes are there on the floor.

“Should I tell him we already did?” She laughs and pulls me down for more kisses.

When neither of us can stand the water anymore, I hop out and tell her to wait there. When I come back, I’ve got the softest, most comfortable robe I could find and wrap it around her. It’s black with small sunflowers on it, and it’s beautiful on her.

“Do you like it, Sunshine? Had it custom ordered for you.”

Her fingers trace over the embroidery before she throws her hands around my neck and squeezes me tight. “These things never fit me, Chase. How did you find one so perfect?”

“Lucky guess?”

“Did you call Dani?”

“Dani’s lucky guess?”

“She’s so sneaky. I love it, Puppy!”

“Good. Uhm, I also bought you this.”

Her eyes light up at the dress I pull from the bathroom closet. I’m an idiot when it comes to fashion and dresses, but this thing has a slit up the side and as soon as I saw it, I wanted to see her in it. She runs her hands over the black sequined top and the feather details on the shoulders before giving me a look when she eyes the deep v-cut in the front. I don’t care how much it cost, it will be worth every damn penny when I fuck her stupid in it before I rip it off her.

“You’ll look stunning.”

“Chase, I can’t accept this.”

“You can, because you’re my queen. Unless you were yelling YES earlier about something else.” I tease.

“Well, it might have had something to do with your head being between my legs.”

“Why, Ms. Silva, are you accusing me of using sex to get you to attend this event with me?” she rolls her eyes and I’m not sure if the look she’s flashing me means she’s about to end me, or she’s playing with me. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to, but whichever you choose, I’m not returning the dress. I’ve asked my stylist to send someone over tomorrow to adjust it so you’re not tripping over yourself.”

“Jerk.” She smacks my arm playfully for the dig. “Whatever!

“Anyway, she’s going to bring some jewelry too. If you like any of it, I’ll buy it so you can wear it to other events. Whatever you don’t like, she’ll take it back after the event. Cyn said she’d come over and help get you ready for what the press will be like, too.”

She stares at me and I go head first off the deep end diving board of an empty pool. “Fuck, it’s too much, isn’t it? I’m sorry. You’re probably right and I should, I can, we can do this another time. It’s fine. I’ll just—” Her hand on my chest stops me, but it also helps me calm down. I lean over, dropping my forehead to hers.

“There you go. Breathe for me. I love the dress, Chase,” she coos, rubbing circles with her hands. “It would be an honor to attend the event with you, beautiful boy.”

“Wait, you’re sure?” She nods and I spin her around, holding the dress up to her. She’s going to look stunning, and I tell her that as I kiss up and down her neck.

“Okay, you’re going to mess up the fabric and get it wet,” she laughs.

* * *

She squeezes my hand hard enough to get my attention in the back of the SUV as we head to the charity event. It’s still weird having her hand in mine and not a cold, wet nose. I’m still adjusting to Pongo not being here with me tonight. I avoid bringing him to smaller events. It’s more difficult to pass him off as a pet. They’re expecting a huge crowd tonight, though, just what he’s trained for.

I love my dog, but having her here with me tonight is far more important. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s been teaching Ren some of my tells. She’s picked up on them over the last few weeks and sees right through me when I try to hide. She can tell when the self-doubt, the worry, and the massive imposter syndrome take hold of me.

It’s been a while since I had someone I cared about come to an industry event with me, especially one as big and high profile as this one. Usually it’s my agent or someone else from the agency. I’ve brought a girlfriend or two before and had a few break up with me because I wouldn’t bring them. Cassie hated these damn events with their glitz and glamour, so I stopped asking her to go. That should have marked the beginning of the end of our relationship, but I’m too stubborn to see warning signs and she was too stubborn to realize she couldn’t change me.

The press noticed right away, and our apparent breakup became the running headline for weeks. It made the paps even more desperate for pictures of us out in public. It’s crazy to see some of the supposed experts they get on body language to discuss the photos and try to make out details that just aren’t there.

Our hands were too far apart when we sat at dinner. I wasn’t standing close enough to her when we were out around town. We never looked at each other with love in our eyes. That’s what they ran with from a handful of blurry, shitty photos. They never mentioned the triple-digit heat wave outside or how we’d kissed, but they hadn’t timed their shot right. That didn’t generate sales as much as our implosion as a couple. That’s when they manufactured a fake dating rumor. They still throw that one out from time to time.

I climb out of the car and a frenzy of flashbulbs blind me; I’m used to it. They limited the number of press photographers in this section of the property, so it’s only a handful and a something of a warmup for Ren. When I take her hand and she steps out of the car, she exudes royalty and her eyes never leave mine. Her confident smile brings the same out in me. I don’t even hear what the photographers are yelling at us. I don’t care.

“I’ll never understand why getting out of a car became so photograph worthy,” she asks, looking around but trying not to be obvious about it.

“Ask the female celebrities,” I reply with a wink.

“Oh. That explains why you stood so close to the door when you opened it for me.”

“Damn right. They’re not taking underwear shots of my girl. Hell, are you even wearing any?”

Her devilish grin tells me I’m right and my heart drums against my ribs. I’m going to spend the whole night thinking of excuses to sneak off with her to a bathroom or down some back hall. I should ask if this place has a wine cellar.

Once we’re inside, there’s an area designated for the guests to meet and mingle before the dinner. It’s so loud, with conversations and laughter echoing off the walls, I don’t know how anyone hears each other. However, most of the people in this room are only here to listen to one person—themselves. I snag two glasses of champagne from a tray as the waiter walks by.

“Is this champagne?” she asks, taking a quick sniff of the glass I handed her. “I’ve never had champagne. What’s it like?”

“It, uhm, tickles? I dunno. I’m not a big fan, but you kind of get used to it after a while.” She smiles and everyone in the room disappears. I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek, whispering, “I can’t take my eyes off of you, Ms. Silva.”

“You never can, Puppy.” She winks. She’s not wrong. Her fingernail taps on my glass. “So you drink things even though you don’t like them?”

“Yeah, comes with the territory. Weird food, too. Some on set, some at parties. You kind of learn how to stop tasting things, I guess.” She raises an eyebrow and I laugh. “There are still things I can taste just fine. The food I make, a smooth whiskey, oh, and you. And if you keep looking at me like that, I’ll toss you on one of those platters and show everyone just how hungry I am for you.”

She takes the champagne flute and tips it back. I don’t know what she’s expecting, but her hand touches her nose and she giggles. Electricity collects at my spine before bursting through my body. I want her. Now. I want to drop to my knees and worship her right here in front of the entire crowd of stodgy, rich people.

“Yeah, you were right. It tickles!” The giggle ripples through her, and they’re contagious. She takes my hand and drags me away from the wall, and further into the room where everyone mingles and mulls about. “I want to see you at work, Puppy. I don’t mean the movies, I’ve seen those. I want to see you become this Hollywood golden boy right here in front of me.”

I shrug and look around, but before I can find someone I trust, people crowd around us, asking both of us questions and chatting away as we float between cliques.

I’m impressed when I see how easily she fits in with wave after wave of famous Hollywood types. She’s effortless. Unfazed when she’s socializing with the rich and famous, as they brag about their wealth or fame. No one knows who she is, but they all assume she’s on their side and not their staff. She commands the room with a glance, and tomorrow morning, while these assholes are sleeping off cocaine hangovers, she’ll be driving her sputtering, broken down Fiat to teach at an unassuming grade school. It would blow their minds.

“So what do you do?” One of the big shot producers asks, as if he can read my mind. We met at another industry event, and I’m not thrilled he’s here. He’s part of the upper elite of Hollywood to survive the Me Too movement unscathed. Well, not entirely. They took him down a few pegs, but he could stand a few more. They should have taken him down to hell and locked him away for good.

“I teach.” She’s brilliant. She’s mastered giving them enough information to answer their question, but leaving them wanting more.

“Ah! A scholar amongst men! Brilliant! Let me guess, art history? Something as beautiful as you?”

I step closer to her, my hand resting on her hip with a gentle squeeze. She makes a show of moving her drink to the other hand so she can reach behind me and grab my ass. I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman claim me like this in public. Grope without permission, yes. I want her to do it again. I can’t stop fantasizing about her leading a pack of these clowns on leashes and collars down Hollywood Boulevard. Humiliating them the way they deserve. It’s giving me a hard on and making my head spin because I’d beg to be right there with them.

“Ah, no. My degree in robotics.”

“Chase, my friend,” the guy slurs, and he definitely isn’t my friend. He’s ogling her and I don’t like it. “You are one lucky son of a bitch to be climbing into?—”

“Watch yourself, Eddie.”

“Fair!” He holds his drink up as his eyes travel to someone new and shiny, and he’s stumbling across the room to drape himself all over a young blonde.

“Did he make you jealous, Puppy?”

“You shouldn’t call me that here.” I stare down at her, watching her hips sway to the music as she presses her body against mine. Fuck.

“Oh, there are rules now? Puppy? ” Her fingers wrap around my tie slowly, pulling it out of my jacket and giving it a little tug.

“No, ma’am. You can call me whatever you want, whenever you want.”

“That’s better.” She pulls me down to her and my head fights for blood flow since it’s all gone to my dick. “So, Puppy. What if I were to put your collar on you, pull you up on stage, and spank you like the needy little slut you are in front of all these people?”

Fuck! I’m so hard right now, and she knows it. Her glossy lips ghost mine, my eyes darting back and forth between hers. I want to pick her up and carry her to the nearest table. I want her to scream my name and call me a whore. No—to call me her whore. I want her to smack me in the face, spit in my mouth, and tell me to get on my goddamn knees and worship her.

She’s opened Pandora’s box inside of me, and I have no idea what I am anymore other than hers.

“Careful, Puppy. We don’t want to have to leave the party early, and I doubt any of them will buy the old, ‘ran to the store for smokes’ excuse anymore.”

“There’s a bathroom?—”

“Chase Cooper! There you are!”

I’m only pulled halfway out of my trance as my eyes search out the source of the voice. I groan when I find it. Richard Lawson, big time movie producer and the guy who heads up this fundraiser every year. I’m about to hide a raging hard on from the biggest Hollywood royal pain in the ass. Fun.

I promised Cyn I would be on my best behavior with these guys since they still have pull when they want to use it.

“I’ve been looking for you, buddy.” Lawson has never, and will never, be someone I called buddy.

I’m thanking Ren with my smile, because the second I stand, she steps in front of me enough to keep my secret. I reach across and offer my hand. “Mr. Lawson, nice to see you.”

“Say, where’s the muscled out guy you brought with you last year? Sean, was it?”

“Steve. He’s married now, and I brought my date, Renate, instead. Renate, Richard Lawson.”

“Shame, he had…talent. Call me Richie.” He doesn’t say it to her, he says it to me, because Lawson still thinks we’re in 1952 and he matters.

There’s something about older men tossing ‘ie’ at the end of their name that always weirds me out. Like they’re grasping for the last strings of youth, which they haven’t had in decades.

“Look, I booked Ashton Vincenti to give an award tonight after the dinner, but he called me five minutes ago. Can you believe that shit? Do me a solid and take his spot, yeah?”

Lawson isn’t even trying, laying out the shoddy groundwork for an old Hollywood bait and switch. Vincenti found himself on the wrong side of a warrant last week, and he’ll have a hard time finding jobs after what they say he did. Lawson needs to distance himself from Vincenti, and I’m the perfect guy to help with that. Hollywood’s golden boy instead of the child groomer.

I glance down at Ren and shrug. I can tell she’s surprised that I’d even ask her. Of course I’m asking her, she’s my date. My queen. She nods and I flash her a grin before looking back at Richie boy.

“Sure thing. Anything special?”

“Nah, we’ve got the teleprompter for the intro. It’s a couple quick lines, you announce the name, bingo, bongo, you’re back next to your, uh, lady friend here.”

He hasn’t even looked at Ren, and he’s tiptoeing that line between things I’ll let slide and things he’ll regret. “Fine, you know where I’ll be.”

“Fantastic, I gotta run!” He ducks back into the crowd.

“I’m sorry. He’s always been a prick. It’s why I refuse to work with his people or his studio.” I ask as I pinch the back of my neck, the nerves kicking in again. Looking around the room, I notice a fair amount of other people I would describe the same way I described Lawson. I hope that I never turn into them, but I’ll also take their money when it’s offered for the right job. Feed the machine, as they say.

“People like him don’t intimidate me, Chase. Besides, I’d make most of the men in this room, including Richie Lawson, cry.”

“You’d have them on their knees, Sunshine. Come on, I want to see where they’ve got us, and get out of the crowd for a few minutes.” I caress her cheek and it’s as if I can feel the dynamic between us shift. She’s letting me take the lead, at least for now. I hold out my arm and she takes it with both hands as we navigate the swarm of people toward the photography step and repeat.

She stops before we step out in front of the cameras. Our big moment lies two steps ahead of us. We could turn around now and stay in the shadows, letting the paps make their wild guesses while I claim she’s from my rep’s agency. But as soon as we step out there in front of the cameras, there’s no more ‘rumored to be dating’, it becomes public knowledge.

“We’re good, right? If not, we turn around and walk the other way.” I check in with her one last time as she takes a deep breath, lets go of me with one hand, and shakes her hair out. With a wink that says ‘Let’s do this,’ I lead the way into the lights.