two
So what do you two plan on doing this weekend—as if I don’t already know?”
Holly’s voice made me smile. “Believe it or not, we actually did make some plans that don’t involve a bed,” I said. “We’re seeing a show Saturday night and a new exhibit at the MoMA on Sunday. Between my rehearsal schedule and his interviews, we’ll barely have any quiet time at all.” I sighed, stretching out across the old couch in the back of the rehearsal studio.
Holly had called from L.A. in between early-morning phone meetings. Being both my best friend and my manager—not to mention Jack’s manager—was a multifaceted role she was handling really well so far. She was great at her job, especially with new talent like Jack. She was crafting his career with precision, keeping him visible but not overexposed.
And speaking of Jack, he was due in tonight! His flight got in around five, and I was meeting him at his hotel. We didn’t want to waste any time, and I expected that our hellos would be quickly followed by my panties’ removal.
“Why do I think quiet times aren’t on the menu this weekend anyway? More like screaming times,” she chuckled, no doubt remembering the caterwauling she’d had to endure all those weeks at her house in L.A.
I blushed. He did make me scream louder than any man before him, and then there were nights when he stunned me silent. Oh, God. Is there a way to speed up time?
“So how’s the show going? You and Michael still getting along, or have you scratched his eyes out?”
“No, actually things are going surprisingly well. I forgot how damn funny he is, and we’re really having a good time together. It’s like we never stopped being friends.” I was so glad we’d put the past behind us.
“Uh-huh,” she said.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just saying ‘uh-huh,’ ” she said, the smile back in her voice.
“Holly, you never say anything without meaning something. Now give it up, bitch.”
“I’m just glad you guys are friends again. It isn’t weird at all? No old chemistry knocking around, nothing coming up between you two?” she asked.
“No, none at all. Thanks for asking, though, you scandal whore.” I laughed. There was nothing going on. But while Michael and I had spent plenty of time reminiscing, we hadn’t addressed the feelings we’d had for each other back then, or any impact they might have on the present. I thought briefly of his eyes locked on mine during the egg roll standoff but brushed that aside.
“So when are you coming to visit, you dumb bitch?” I subject-changed smoothly.
“Nice talk. I’m trying to get out there before Thanksgiving. And by the way, where are you planning on spending the holiday? Can you get back here, or will you still be in rehearsal?”
“I don’t know, but my guess is I’ll be here. Hey, I’ll get to see the Macy’s parade up close and personal. That’ll be kind of cool!” I hadn’t really thought about the upcoming holidays.
“Maybe I’ll wait and come out then. Can’t have my best friend alone on Turkey Day,” she said.
“Aw, that’s sweet, babe. You know there’s no one I’d rather share yams with than your badass self.” I chuckled.
“So when’s he getting in?” she asked.
I ignored the obvious double entendre. “Around five. I have to be here all day for rehearsal, but that’s good. It’s keeping my mind off things. I’m so freaking excited! I really didn’t expect to miss him as much as I do.”
I sighed, leaning back on the couch. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet, and I knew this day would positively drag.
Six hours until boom-boom . . .
“I have to tell you, he’s like a little lost puppy without you,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yeah. He’s doing a ton of promotion and going out with his friends at night a lot, but I can tell he’d rather be with you, watching your god-awful Golden Girls.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’d rather be snuggled up watching Bea Arthur than out on the town,” I sniped.
“Grace, you’re an idiot. The boy is in love. Let him miss you,” she said.
I chewed my lip thoughtfully. “I know he misses me. I miss him too. A lot.”
Just then Michael came into the studio with the musical director.
“Hey, Holly, I gotta go. I’ll call you later this weekend,” I said, rolling off the couch and walking over to the piano.
“Don’t you dare call me when you should be fucking the shit out of your hot British nasty! I love you, good-bye,” she said, and hung up.
I smiled as I clicked off the phone.
“Was that Holly?” Michael asked with a grin.
“Yep, she was harassing me.” I laughed as we began to page through the sheet music.
“About this weekend?” he asked, his smile tightening.
“Yeah, she’s always trying to give me advice. You know how she is,” I said, nodding to the accompanist to begin.
We worked together on the song, finding the emotional beats and drawing out the subtext. Once we finished, I sat back down on the couch and Michael packed up to leave just as Leslie came in from the studio next door.
“So I heard your boyfriend is coming in this weekend. Are you stoked?” she asked, bounding into the room and curling up on the couch next to me.
“He is coming in. How did you know that?” I asked.
“Michael told me,” she said, digging into her bag and pulling out a few magazines.
“What are all these?” I asked as she spread them out on the couch.
“My favorite crush, Jack Hamilton, is supposed to be in them. I thought we could begin a little shrine for our dressing room!” She bounced like a schoolgirl.
I was beginning to wonder if I should tell her about me and Jack. I didn’t mean to keep it a secret so long, but I was following Holly’s directive that we keep our relationship private—out of the newspapers and off the Internet—even though I knew Jack was against it. He trusted Holly implicitly, though, and knew we were only looking out for his career.
It wasn’t that it was a secret, we just weren’t public. And my being on another coast solved a lot of problems with the press, especially now that Jack was doing so many interviews.
Holly had taught him the phrase “I’m not dating anyone right now,” and he was sticking to it in the interviews. If those few pictures they got of us in L.A. stayed on the back burner, we’d be okay. Still, I knew Leslie would eventually find out, and I didn’t want her to think I was keeping things from her.
“Wow . . . he is so hot,” she sighed, finding the first picture in the teenybopper magazine and ripping it out.
I allowed myself a quick glance, which of course made my heart do a little double-time, and then I looked at her. “Hey, Leslie?” I started.
“My God, he’s on fire, that boy! I might need to concentrate on booking more jobs in L.A. I wonder if he’s single?” she continued, flipping through the pages of the next magazine.
“So listen,” I tried again. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. My boyfriend, the one who lives in L.A.—”
I was interrupted by another squeal. “Jesus! Look at those eyes! I mean, they just scream sex, don’t they?” She tore out the picture and added it to the pile.
“Yes, yes, they do. Anyway, like I was saying—”
“Holy shit—Jack Fucking Hamilton,” she said softly.
“Jesus, Leslie, enough already! I’m trying to tell you something about my boyfriend!”
Sitting there with a ripped picture in her hand, she looked dazed. It was a pretty hot picture.
“What about your boyfriend?” a sexy voice said behind me with a distinctly British accent. My eyes grew wide as I slowly turned, now realizing what Leslie meant by her Holy shit—Jack Fucking Hamilton.
He stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame with a bag over his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes rumpled, and his hair needed its own zip code. He smiled at me, and I was struck stupid by the sight of him.
“You were saying something about your boyfriend, I think,” he asked again. His eyes twinkled, the green getting dangerously dark. Then he bit down on that damn lip.
I was off the couch and across the room in seconds, and I jumped at him. He caught me in midair, dropping his bag, the force of my jump carrying us out into the hallway. I pressed myself into him, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. He stumbled backward, laughing at my exuberant welcome, and his back hit the wall.
I didn’t see the other cast members in the hall. I didn’t see the ballet students in their tutus on the way to a dress rehearsal on the main stage. I didn’t see Leslie, still dumbfounded on the couch, mouth hanging open, surrounded by pictures of my very own Sweet Nuts. I didn’t see Michael standing at the end of the hallway, watching.
I saw nothing but the front of Jack’s T-shirt as I clung tightly to him, the colors beginning to swim as I blinked back sudden tears. I smelled nothing but the scent of warm pipe tobacco, cozy chimney smoke, chocolate, and Hamilton. I felt nothing but his strong arms enveloping me and his hands running up and down my back, soothing my shaking body. I heard nothing but his quiet laughter, and then his perfect voice whispered, “Aw, Gracie, I missed you too.”
And then I tasted nothing but his sweet lips, pressed firmly to mine, as I kissed him like it was my job.
When things threatened to get out of control, I finally peeled myself off the Brit and brought him back into the studio, where Leslie was still sitting and waiting.
“I can’t believe you took the red-eye and didn’t tell me, you ass!” I yelled, pummeling him.
“I know. It was last-minute. But I finished up what I needed to in L.A. yesterday, and I couldn’t wait any longer, Nuts Girl,” he said, tucking me into his side like he always did.
I looked at Leslie, whose eyes were still as big as dinner plates. “So, Leslie, this is my boyfriend who I was trying to tell you about. This is Jack.”
He extended a hand, and she took it wordlessly, beginning to realize she was meeting her celebrity crush.
“Leslie, it’s nice to meet you. Grace has told me all about you. Sounds like the two of you are quite a handful together, yes?” He grinned wickedly at her.
He was doing that on purpose, the flirty fuck. Those fans didn’t stand a chance.
“Hi—um—hi,” she stammered, and then quickly got control. “Sorry, I’m not usually so ridiculous, but we were just cutting out pictures of you, and then you’re standing there, and Grace is trying to mount you in the hall— It’s a lot to take in. It’s nice to meet you,” she finished.
I heard someone else come in and turned to see Michael.
“Hey, I heard there was soft-core porn going on in the hallway,” he said. I noticed his fists were clenched.
“Hey, Michael. Sorry about that. Jack kind of surprised me. You remember Michael, right?” I asked, turning to Jack.
They looked at each other for a second, then Michael held out his hand. “Hey, man, good to see you again. That was quite a surprise. Grace wasn’t expecting you until tonight,” he said, pumping Jack’s hand twice, then dropping it.
“Good to see you too. Yeah, I have to keep her on her toes. I’m good like that,” Jack said, running his hand down my back and wrapping his arm around my hip.
We were all silent for a moment, then Michael cleared his throat. “So, obviously, Grace, why don’t you skip rehearsal this afternoon? We can block around you. Why don’t you take off?”
“Are you sure? I’m sure Jack has things he has to do—” I started.
“Nope, we’re cool. Get out of here,” he said, nodding toward the door.
“If you’re sure, then I guess we’ll take off,” I said, thrilled at this sudden turn of events. Jack grinned down at me. I knew he was thrilled as well.
“That’s cool, man. Thanks,” Jack said, grabbing his bag and mine and throwing them over his shoulder.
I hugged Leslie good-bye; she was still slightly dazed. I gave Michael a hug as well. “Thanks, O’Connell, I appreciate it. See you tomorrow?”
“Yep, have fun.” He nodded, eyes distant, as Jack clasped my hand and pulled me to the door.
We grinned at each other the whole way downstairs. Seeing him, being able to touch him and breathe him in— Wow. I had missed me some Hamilton.
When we got outside, Jack had a car waiting for us. It wasn’t quite a limo but longer than a town car, with a divider between the front and the back.
And I knew we were in trouble. We simply weren’t going to make it to the hotel in time. When the driver opened the door for us, I asked him to take us to Grant’s Tomb. He nodded, we both climbed in, and we were off.
I quickly found the button for the divider and raised it, sealing us in our own little leather-upholstered world.
“Grant’s Tomb, Grace? What’s that about?” Jack asked, his hands beginning to roam across my shoulders.
“Simple. It’s all the way uptown. It’ll take us a while to get up there.” I swung one leg over and sat on his lap.
“Okay, but why are we going up there, love?” he asked again, sweeping my hair off my neck so he could kiss it.
I moaned as I felt his warm lips caress my skin. It had been too long.
“Well, I could’ve asked him to just drive around while you fuck me until I black out, but I wanted to uphold at least a modicum of decency,” I purred in his ear, my hands digging into his silky curls.
He groaned. His eyes blazed liquid emerald. “Gracie, you bad girl . . .” He buried his face in my neck, making me hotter by the second.
“George, you have no idea how bad this girl wants to be.” I sighed as he found that sweet spot on my neck.
Then he pulled back to look in my eyes. “Be my bad girl, Grace,” he whispered.
It was like a dam broke.
I lost all control. I roughly pulled his shirt off his body, and my hands moved across his warm skin, desperate to feel him. I flew through the buttons on my own shirt, letting it fall open to the sides, then I flicked the front clasp on my bra, grabbed his hands, and brought them home, to me.
As his hands surrounded my breasts, I moaned. He bent his head to my collarbone and swept long licks across my skin, making me shiver. He groaned as his mouth found my nipple, and my head fell back as I luxuriated in the feeling of his mouth on me. I began to circle my hips, feeling him rise beneath me, wanting me.
This would not be slow and tender. I needed it too badly.
I slid down to my knees on the floor in a Hamiltonian frenzy. I needed to taste him. I needed him to fill me up. I snapped open his button, unzipped, and had him in my mouth—fast.
His hands came to my hair, guiding me up and down as I sucked him furiously. I heard his groans, and as he said my name, I ached for him. I gave him one last long, strong pull with my lips, then released him and looked up at him from beneath my lashes. He was so beautiful, especially when he was close to coming for me.
I nudged my yoga pants down, kicked off my shoes, and sat next to him. “On your knees, love,” I instructed, and his eyes widened. Then a wicked smile crept across his face.
He sank down and pulled my hips to the edge of the seat.
“Take these off,” I said, hooking my fingers through the band of my white lace panties, which were already soaked.
He obliged, scooting them down over my hips, my thighs, my knees, and finally my ankles. He threw the panties over his shoulder, then appraised the situation.
I kept my knees firmly locked together, and when I saw him begin to pant heavily at what I was keeping from him, I slowly parted my legs, revealing myself to him. I felt the cool air rush in to hit me and saw his face change to something very close to abject worship.
I wrapped my hands in his hair and brought him down to where I wanted him to go.
“I need to come at least three times before you can fuck me. Can you handle that?” I asked, my breath hitching in my throat as I anticipated the work he was about to do to make me see stars.
Bossy Bad Girl Grace was in full force—my Jack loved a challenge.
“Consider it handled, Crazy,” he whispered, grinning that sexy half grin. He roughly pulled me closer, and my hands clutched tightly in his hair as he kissed me, first on the insides of my thighs and then—sweet Lord—right on my gonna-see-God.
Feeling his mouth on me after so long was almost more than I could take, and I bucked up wildly. His fingers swept me open so he could focus more thoroughly on my center, and his tongue fluttered lightly against me, bringing me to the edge quickly. Maybe it had just been too long, or maybe it was all those nights imagining exactly this, but within seconds of that magic tongue touching me, I was coming in his mouth. I screamed, and all the tension that had been building over the last weeks poured forth in a wave that left my brain scrambled and my sex pulsing.
“That’s one,” he whispered, immediately beginning to work me again. Not letting me down from the first, he pressed his tongue against me, licking me from top to bottom, his lips searching me out. He sucked me into his mouth, encircling me with his lips as his tongue worked feverishly against the tiny bundle of nerves designed for the sole purpose of pleasure.
Now that is intelligent design.
I could feel myself building again, and as I pressed his face into me, he moaned, sending the vibration straight into me. I threw my head back against the seat as I came again, thrashing about under his tongue.
He leaned back a little, licking his lips. “That’s two, love,” he said with a wink.
“I changed my mind—get inside now. I need you,” I said, trying to get him to crawl up my body.
“Hell no! I need you to really be ready for me, Gracie,” he teased. His fingers began to dance around me, and when he grazed me with his knuckle, it was shocking. My back arched into his fingers as one, then two slipped inside.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said, his voice uneven and husky. I panted, and he watched as I began to shake. His fingers, strong and sure, stroked me, and finding that J-spot, he brought me to another hard orgasm.
“And that’s three,” he said with a triumphant grin.
“Unbelievable, as always. Now get up here, please. I need you inside me,” I growled, my face flushed with passion.
“I think my bad girl deserves one more, don’t you?” he asked, slipping back down.
As his fingers plunged back into me, his tongue found me once more. His teeth nibbled lightly, and I almost came out of my skin. His fingers stroked me from the inside, manipulating my J-spot as his tongue teased out another earth-shattering orgasm. I could feel this one coming, and it was huge. The combination of textures and rubbing and sucking and licking and stroking and pushing and incredible sweet invasion was too much. I let out a long, lusty scream, which became his name, over and over again.
“Oh, God, Jack! Oohhh!” I screamed, collapsing against the seat. He kissed the inside of both of my thighs, and when his lips found the site of my original Hamilton Brand, he bit down, marking me once again as his. I hissed and dragged him back up to me.
I pushed him into the seat, swung my leg over him, and sat on him. I felt every perfect inch of him as he sank into me, and we both cried out.
“Jesus, I missed you, George,” I said as my body clenched around him, never wanting to let him go.
“Fuuuuck,” was all he could get out as I began to move my hips, encouraging him to sink deeper into my body. He drove into me as I bounced above him, his mouth capturing my nipple and teasing me with his teeth. I rolled my hips back and forth, letting him feel all of me, his cock exploring me from the inside. His hands were rough on my hips, guiding me, slamming me up and down harder and harder as we both felt the explosion building.
“I missed you, Jack. I missed feeling you inside me,” I chanted as he moved me up and down.
“Oh, God, Grace, you feel amazing,” he groaned. “You’re so warm and wet and tight around me.” He sped up, and I matched his rhythm. He looked me in the eye, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. I knew this sweet face. My Jack was about to come.
I squeezed him with all I had, feeling my orgasm begin to rip through me, and we came together.
In the back of a town car, in the middle of Manhattan. What must that poor driver be thinking?
This long weekend was going to be insane.