“We just give them what they want… and they’ll back off.”
He studies me, patience wearing thin. “And what exactly do they want?”
“This.”
I grab his face and crash my mouth against his. It’s hard enough to make our teeth click—almost—but thankfully, his thick lips save us from that disaster. He’s stunned for a second. Maybe two. But the moment my tongue slips past his lips, and my fingers thread through his hair, he catches up quickly.
“You’re fucking crazy,” he mumbles against my mouth.
I smile into the kiss. “What I am, Elijah, is a gay man, and I’m so fucking proud. I want to shout it from the rooftops that I’m in love with you. I think there’s a saying for that, but hell if I know what it is.”
“Loud and proud?” He grins, laughing as he scoops me off the ground and spins me in a full circle. “I fucking love you,” he yells over the thunder of the camera shutters and fans erupting around us.
He sets me down and kisses me again… this time, slower, deeper, and another round of flashes ignites the night.
When he finally releases me, I’m breathless, grinning. I throw both arms into the air and wave to my fans.
“Now I’m ready,” I say, tugging on his hand. “Take me dancing.”
Cool air sweepsacross our skin the second the doors swing open, and we step inside Gravity.
Just like that, the chaos outside vanishes—the noise, the lights, the flashing cameras—all shadowed by the hush of luxury and music pulsing in the distance.
We both take a breather, pulling out our phones at the same time, swiping and tapping in unison. It’s clear we’ve just received theexactsame text, because we both let out a deep, knowing laugh.
A still-shot fills the screen: me, mid-make out, practically inhaling Elijah on the sidewalk; and Elijah, sweeping me off my feet, lifting me like a trophy he’s damn proud to show off.
And beneath the image:
Seriously? #getaroom, #gaydads.
Of course it’s from Ana.
Elijah winks, pocketing his phone.
I shake my head, grinning. “Let’s do this!”
“A Night to Remember” by Shalamar comes rocking through the speakers, and I swear the universe couldn’t have picked a more perfect song for this night.
I sidle up to Elijah as we weave along the curvy design of the bar, headed toward the dance floor. This time, I’m passing on the tequila, passing on the bourbon. I’m drunk on love, and I plan to stay that way.
“Two bourbons on the rocks,” Elijah orders, squeezing into a small opening at the bar.
Okay, well, maybe one won’t hurt.
As I wait, my eyes catch on a pulsing orange-and-black sign behind the bar: Café Bonito. That has Elijah written all over it. I know he’s close with the owners—probably helped get their brand in here. But coffee? In a nightclub? Then again… the idea of an espresso martini made with authentic Puerto Rican coffee has my taste buds waking up. Who knows, maybe they’ll even branch out and make a coffee liqueur someday. Now that’s something I could get behind.
Bourbon in hand, I turn toward the dance floor. It’s jam-fucking-packed. And I’m buzzing with excitement. I’m so high on happiness, I’m pretty sure my smile is permanently pressed into my face.
I take Elijah’s hand and pull him in closer, touching my lips to his ear. “Dance with me?”
Those lips curl into a devilish grin just as he tosses back the rest of his bourbon. Michael Jackson’s “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” kicks in, and my heart practically moonwalks out of my chest. Ilovethis song! The DJ’s spinning old-school tunes, and I’m definitely not complaining.
Elijah slams his glass down onto the bar, grabs my hand, and we’re on the move.
Arrogance sits like a king on his broad shoulders as he carves a path through the crush of bodies. The bass vibrates through my veins, syncing perfectly with the rush of bourbon.
We break into the center of the dance floor, swallowed up by swaying limbs and a storm of colored strobe lights. Bodies bounce, legs pump like they belong on a trampoline, and arms flail wildly without apology as I focus on finding my footing.
