Shortly after we got back from New York for my audition, I gave up my studio in the valley and moved in with Ian. It was perfect. Sleeping next to him every night. Waking up to him every morning.

And fucking on basically every flat surface of the apartment.

Sales for Say Yes’s third album were through the roof and the upcoming tour was selling out dates in cities throughout the country. Spin the Bottle is all over the radio.

I was planning to join Ian on tour for a few days at a time, but then, finally, I found out that I was accepted into the Masters program at NYU for acting.

Which meant I was moving to New York City.

We knew it would be a strain on our relationship. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

But we dove in with our eyes open.

I got an apartment on the Lower East Side and enrolled.

And yes, the classes were difficult. And yes, my previous life as video girl/rock star’s fake girlfriend worked against me. There were fellow students who refused me as a scene partner. Teachers who rolled their eyes before I’d even opened my mouth. Casting directors who seemed determined to hate me.

But, a semester in, I’ve worked my ass off and earned the respect of even the most challenging people.

* * *

The crowd cheers as the cast bows for the final curtain call tonight, the final performance of The Trap Door, an original play by an NYU playwright who just won a major award for this piece.

And I had the lead.

The director and wraps her arms around me. The playwright does the same. They both thank me for my work and I tell them sincerely how grateful I am to have worked with them.

It’s been one of the greatest experiences of my life.

I’m at home here. Not New York, I plan to return to California eventually, but on stage. Or on screen. In front of an audience. It’s where I belong. And to finally know this feeling… I’m so fucking lucky.

I’m greeted with hugs and congratulations from the rest of the cast and crew. Even some of the faculty came out for the show.

“You should really be proud of yourself, Ms. Dwyer,” one professor tells me.

I thank her and tell her that I’ll see her when classes resume in January.

As wonderful as this all is and as much as I was to revel in it, I’m crazy distracted.

Ian is supposed to be here tonight. He was to arrive just in time for the show and spend the night with me afterward. Then we’re flying back to LA tomorrow to spend Christmas break with the band.

And Aya, of course.

I try not to look rude and preoccupied while talking with people, but I’ve got one thing on my mind and it’s getting Ian back to my apartment as quickly as possible, stripping him naked and having my way with him.

Apparently, stage horniness isn’t just a rock star thing. Actresses get it too.

Big time.

Finally I see Ian, talking to the lead actor and his boyfriend in the corner, holding a bouquet of red wildflowers and I swear my heart skips a beat.

He sees that I’ve finally been left alone, excuses himself from the guys, and bounds over to me. He throws his arms around me and holds me like I’ll turn to dust if he lets go.

It’s been way too long.

“You were amazing,” he tells me, “You belong out there.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

That makes me smile.

“Some of the cast and crew are meeting at the Mad Fiddler in a few hours for drinks,” I tell him, “I really should make an appearance.”

“Damn,” he says, still smiling, “I wanted you all to myself tonight.”

“Me too,” I say with a heavy exhale, my fingers roaming down his chest, “Just one drink, though. And we have some time.”

“Hmm,” he rumbles, one hand sliding down my back and giving my ass cheek a possessive squeeze. “Let’s get a cab. Go to your place for a minute.”

He doesn’t have to tell ask twice.

We hurry into a cab and ride out the short distance to my apartment in silence. It’s been six long weeks since we’ve last seen each other and, while there’s so much I want to tell him, there’s only one thing on my mind.

Sex.

With Ian.

Now.

His hand creeps up my thigh under my dress and he shoots his best fuck-me eyes. As cold as it is in December in New York, I’m on fire right now.

I pay the driver and we tumble out of the cab, run up the three fights of stairs and I throw open the door to my apartment. Before I can think, that door is shut, locked, and Ian’s slammed me against it. He devours my mouth, kissing me hard enough to knock the wind out of me.

He pulls back and I struggle to catch my breath as I watch Ian drop to his knees and push the skirt of my dress up my thighs. He pulls my little red panties down over my ass and all the way off. They get stuck on my boots.

“I fucking love these,” he says, feeling the delicate lace.

“I know,” I tell him, “That’s why I wore them.”

“But they have to go.”

I’m too wound up to say anything in reply.

Ian runs his hands over my hips and cups my ass. He guides one of my legs over his shoulder and slowly runs his lips from my inner thigh to my pussy. He gives my seam a long lick.

I tug lightly at his hair, trying to steady myself against the door.

“Fuck, Ian,” I seethe out as he does it again. It’s fucking excruciating, beautiful torture.

He moans against me and the vibrations make me dizzy with need. I gasp as he plunges his tongue inside me and rubs my clit with his thumb.

God, his tongue is something possessed. So fucking powerful.

I’m close.

So damn close.

One more thrust of his tongue and I go over the edge, throwing my head back, my body melting agains the door like ice cream on a hot sidewalk. Ian helps me to my knees, down on the floor with him and I grab his face and kiss him, hard, tasting myself on him.

“On your back,” I order him.

He looks at me, his lips swollen and his eyes half-open. He just nods.

I don’t bother taking more of my clothes off. I don’t bother with Ian’s jacket or shirt. I tear through his belt, yank down the zipper of his jeans and pull out his big, throbbing cock.

I give it a good, long stroke. I torment him as painfully slowly as he was doing me earlier.

“Fuck, Cora,” he groans, “Please.”

Such a beautiful cock. So many options.

I gleam. I’m in control now.

I slither down his body and take him in my mouth as deeply as I can and give him a hard suck. I pull off at the top with a loud popping noise, a trail of saliva running down the head.

“Fucking filthy, baby.”

“Only for you,” I admit. Yeah, he made me filthy. And I like it.

“I love that,” he groans.

Ian props his head up to watch me. He likes watching me suck him off.

I run my tongue up the underside and swirl it around the tip before taking him all in again. He hits the back of my throat. I pump my hand in time with my mouth and bring him right to the edge.

“Cora,” he growls, “I’m gonna come. I want to be inside you when I come.”

Yes. Fuck, yes.

I manage to shuck off my jacket and pull up my skirt again, preparing to ride Ian senseless, when he sits up and wrestles me onto my back. He pins my wrists over my head.

Fuck, I love the look he gets when he knows I’m at his mercy.

He hooks my ankles over his shoulders and drives into me with one hard thrust that makes me cry out. He fucks me slow, but punishingly hard. I lift my head to snare his lips in mine and it makes him growl again.

“Touch yourself, Cora,” he hisses.

I bring my fingers to my clit and stroke myself in time with Ian.

“I’m gonna come, I…”

He cuts me off with a ferocious, hungry, animalistic kiss and I see sparklers go off behind my eyes as my orgasm hits me.

Then he’s there with me.

His thighs tense. His abs constrict. His breath gets all ragged.

I feel him come and then go soft inside me.

We make no effort to move for several minutes.

“How much do you really want to go to that party?” he asks.

“Not even a little bit,” I tell him, “But I have to. You can chill out here if you want.”

“No, I won’t make you go alone.”

We get up and help each other back into our clothes.

Something falls out of Ian’s jacket pocket.

“What’s this?” I ask as I kneel to pick up a small, velvety box and examine it.

Oh my God. Is this what I think it is?

“Could you at least let me put my dick away before I propose to you?” he says with a teasing eye roll.

I’m dumbstruck.

I look at him, my eyes as big as saucers.

Are you fucking serious?

He nods solemnly.

Never breaking eye contact, he drops to one knee, meeting me on the floor, takes the box and opens it. Inside is a beautiful, solitaire diamond ring. It’s classic and understated. Completely perfect.

“Yes,” I tell him, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face or the happy tears welling in my eyes.

“I haven’t asked you anything yet,” he says with a wink. “Here goes.” He takes a deep breath. “After all this time and everything I’ve been through, I never thought I’d be asking Cora Dwyer to marry me and not immediately wake up as a sixteen-year-old boy with sticky sheets.”

“Ew,” I laugh.

“But here we are. Better versions of ourselves. And I am so completely in love with you, Cora. I live to make you happy.”

I can barely breathe, I’m so choked up.

“Will you marry me?”

I look into his beautiful dark brown eyes.

“Yes,” I tell him, rushing into his arms. “I love you so much Ian Brooks.”

He presses a sweet kiss to my lips.

He tries to pull away, but I won’t let him. I keep kissing him.

And I won’t ever stop.