three
Now that Jack was in New York, things felt right. They felt good. My oonie certainly felt good . . .
As we headed to Jack’s hotel, I’m sure the driver was mildly curious about why we didn’t spend any time at Grant’s Tomb once we got all the way up there, but no matter.
We pulled up to the Four Seasons on Fifty-Seventh Street, and when we climbed out I suddenly remembered we weren’t supposed to be seen in public. Especially checking into a hotel. Very bad idea.
“Hey, why don’t you get checked in, then call me and let me know what room you’re in, and I’ll come up,” I said quietly, beginning to move off in the direction of Madison Avenue.
“Grace, that’s silly. Hey, Grace . . .” he protested, as the bellman took his bag inside and I walked away.
I held up my cell and mouthed, “Call me.”
He grimaced, shook his head, and went inside.
I walked around the block, waiting for his call. I knew he thought I was being stupid, but based on the press coverage he was now getting—ugh. I didn’t want the scrutiny that would accompany another “unidentified redhead” sighting.
His premiere was coming up so quickly, and he was about to start a huge press junket. Then he’d be traveling all over the country to make personal appearances. He wasn’t sure how many people would actually show up to see him, but I had a feeling it was going to blow his mind. He was going to be freaking swarmed.
And speaking of the premiere, nothing had been said about whether I was invited. I’d mentioned it to Michael, just in case I would maybe need to head back to L.A. for a weekend. It would be tricky because our rehearsal time was so limited—the show was set to go up the first week of December. We’d locked in three weeks of performances initially, and then we’d see what kind of response we got.
I was almost around the block when I got a text from the Brit:
Get your sweet ass back here. Room 2104. Don’t make me come looking for you—I will make a scene. I will identify this motherfucking redhead.
And I’d thought I was being all subtle and shit. Dammit, he knew me too well.
You are never subtle.
Good point.
I finished my loop, made my way through the front entrance into the beautiful lobby, then found the bank of elevators. I thought fondly of our hotel in Santa Barbara and the fact that the hotel sex had been unfathomably great. Hmm . . . We might have to sleep here tonight, instead of at my place.
I approached his door and knocked lightly. I could hear him on the phone, and when he opened the door, he smiled and pulled me in, continuing his conversation. I admired the room. It was well appointed and had a great view of the park. I checked out the bathroom: huge. It also had a rain shower like the one in Santa Barbara. Yep, I was definitely staying here with him. I didn’t care if I had to enter the building separately every day wrapped in a giant poncho.
I went back into the main room and saw Jack standing by the window, still on the phone. He mouthed the words I’m sorry, and I shook my head with a smile. “No problem,” I mouthed back.
With a running leap I vaulted myself onto the giant bed, landing smack in the middle with a belly flop. It was soft and inviting, covered in pillows and a silky duvet. I heard a snicker behind me and turned to see Jack looking amused at my acrobatic feat. I curled up on my side and waved at him. He smiled back and mouthed, “Five minutes.”
I snickered, getting a delightful idea. I rose up, then sat on the side of the bed, within grasping distance of him. “It’s hot in here,” I mouthed.
“More AC?” he mouthed back, starting toward the thermostat.
“No, I’m going to get totally naked while you try to carry on your conversation,” I whispered. I didn’t want him to miss that part.
His eyes widened as I proceeded to do exactly that. First the jacket and scarf came off, then the sneakers. My shirt came off next, followed quickly by my usual yoga pants. I could see him beginning to have trouble following his conversation, so my plan was working. I sat on the edge of the bed in my white panties and white lacy bra, and beckoned him over with one finger. He stalled, trying to decide what to do.
In the end, the boy won out over the man, and he stood in front of me, still on the damn phone. “I’m sorry, love. It shouldn’t be much longer,” he mouthed.
I smiled sweetly up at him, snaking my hands around his waist and bringing him closer. “It’s okay. Take your time,” I whispered. “I’m just going to do things to you while you carry on,” I said, to his horror and delight.
He attempted to back up, but I quickly unzipped him and had my hand around him through his boxers before he could move very far. His eyes closed quickly, and he hardened completely in my hand.
God, you really had to love a twenty-four-year-old.
Yep, and I really had to love this one in particular.
I stroked him firmly, watching his face contort. He was a little distracted, you see. I pumped him, both hands inside his boxers now, and I could see he was really going to have some trouble soon.
“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, so I would need to be there for the London premiere on which day? Oh, God . . . I mean, sorry. Oh, God, that’s fine. I can be there then . . .” He moaned, and I took pity. His eyes rolled back in his head as I stood up and pushed him gently away.
“Meet me in the shower when you’re through,” I whispered, removing my bra and throwing it over my shoulder as I walked toward the bathroom. I used to be so concerned about men seeing me naked, always worried about what was sticking out, what was jiggling, what was smushed. But with Jack? I knew all he wanted was me, and he preferred me naked. Totally liberating.
I stopped at the door and slowly slid my panties down, looking behind me.
Jack stood in the middle of the room, mouth hanging slightly open, with his pants around his ankles. He looked totally turned on and slightly mortified at the same time.
I stifled a giggle and twirled my panties around my finger, now totally exposed to him. His eyes traveled down my body and back up to my eyes. “Hurry up,” I mouthed, and slipped into the bathroom.
I’d barely gotten the water started and was adjusting the temperature when I heard the door open. I smiled as the water poured over me, steam filling up the large glass enclosure. Then I felt a very warm and very naked Jack press against my back, and my breath caught in my throat.
“You are diabolical,” he muttered, dragging his tongue up the side of my neck.
I shivered as he spun me around. “Next time, get off faster,” I said, pulling him under the spray with me.
“No one is getting off fast, love. Certainly not you,” he promised, dipping his head to kiss the hollow of my neck.
Oh, this was going to be a great weekend.
Waterlogged and weak-kneed, we left the shower about an hour later, having thoroughly enjoyed the hotel’s giant water heaters. I’d lost track of how many times the Brit made me see stars, and I was a little concerned that I now had a shower-tile imprint permanently etched into my bum.
We were punch-drunk and slaphappy as we stumbled into the bedroom, laughing at the lunacy of our actions.
“Seriously, George, you’ve only been in New York a few hours, and we’re already working through our greatest hits!” I giggled, falling onto the bed and struggling to get under the covers. My hair was wound up in a towel, and I wore a plush Four Seasons robe. He walked around to his side of the bed, pulling the covers down as he went, and climbed in next to me.
“I’ve been working you in my mind for weeks now, love, and I have a whole set of newest hits for us to try this weekend.” He grinned dangerously. I was in for it. We might never leave this hotel. “Besides, I missed you like crazy,” he added. “Now that I have you in my clutches, I may not let you go again. And speaking of clutches, bring those fantastic tits over here,” he muttered, pulling open my robe as he pressed his body against me. He turned me on my side, his hands finding my breasts, and then . . .
Perfection. All was right with the world.
We were both asleep in minutes.
I woke up groggy and confused, as I often do when I nap in the afternoon. I felt Jack’s strong arms around me, and for a second I thought I was back in L.A. But the light was different, and when I looked around, I remembered where we were. My heart stuttered a bit, reminding me we weren’t together all the time anymore, but it started up again as I thought about the rest of the long weekend.
Mmm . . .
I rolled away carefully, trying not to wake him, and made it to the edge of the bed before I felt his hands pull me back to him. I giggled.
“Where do you think you’re going, Nuts Girl?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
“To brush out my hair. I’m sure it’s quite lovely from falling asleep with it wet.” I attempted to run my fingers through it, and I could tell it was sticking out every which way. Charming.
“I think it looks cute—sort of a cross between finger-in-the-socket and homeless,” he said, pulling me back against him. “Scoot, please,” he instructed, pressing me onto my back and laying his head on my chest. He nudged my neck up so he could snuggle into the nook and wiggled about for a minute until he finally settled in.
“Comfortable?” I asked with a quiet smile.
“Incredibly so, yes,” he said, wrapping his arms more tightly around my waist.
I glanced at the alarm clock and saw that it was already four thirty. We’d effectively wasted the day on showers and naptime. Just then, my stomach let out a loud growl.
Jack moved lower on my body, kissed my tummy, then looked sternly at my navel. “Shhh, don’t be rude.”
I giggled when, seconds later, my stomach growled again.
Jack rolled his eyes. “I said quiet down,” he ordered, kissing my tummy once more.
“Sweetie, I need to eat something. How are you not hungry? We both skipped lunch, and you flew all night!” I said.
“Actually, I’m starving now that you mention it. Fancy a snack?”
“I fancy a snack,” I affirmed, removing his arms from my waist and taking the room-service menu from the night-stand. “Are we going out for dinner tonight?” I asked, flipping through to the snacky stuff.
“That’s entirely your call. I made no plans, other than an interview I have to do Saturday morning,” he answered, scratching my back.
“Are we in a salty mood or a desserty mood?” I asked, chewing my lip thoughtfully.
“Both. Just order what sounds good to you, and I’ll eat whatever,” he said, looking at me.
“What’re you looking at? No more comments about my hair.” I frowned, trying again to run my fingers through it.
“No, it’s just . . . it’s just really fucking great to see you, Gracie.” He smiled softly at me, his eyes bright green.
“I missed you too, George. I really did,” I whispered, kissing him gently, breathing in his warm s’more-like smell. There was really no way I would ever eat a s’more again without wanting to have sex with it.
My tummy growled again.
“Okay, I’m calling in this order, and then we’re going to plan our evening. And we are leaving this room, Hamilton. We’re in Manhattan! We aren’t staying in all night,” I warned, picking up the phone.
“Sheridan, if I wanted to make you stay in all night with me, all I’d have to do is wave some candy in front of you and then kiss on your sweet boobies. You’d be putty in my hands.” He grinned sexily.
“There’s candy?” I asked, looking around excitedly.
Jack laughed so hard, he fell off the bed.