“I dunno. Kinda? I mean, I liked the people, the connections I made. That was kinda new for me. But I still text a couple of ’em, and ya know, we have the book club, which was my favorite part of it.” My eyes refocused, and I stared intently into my ranch water. “I don’t think it was my forever place to be, though,” I tell him thoughtfully.
“No?”
It didn’t take any more encouragement from him, I knew he wanted me to tell him what was on my mind, and I did. “I’ve never really known what to do with my life, you know that. I mean, school was a given, I was gonna get a degree to fall back on, somewhere to get started if nothing else called to me. But…nothing really has. I’m not really sure where I fit in in this world. I’ve never found thatthingthat’s my passion, like you did.” I gave him a sad smile, meeting his eyes again, and took a sip of my drink.
“We’ll find it for you, baby.” He sounded so sure, but I wasn’t. I mean, I’m not sure if everyone out there finds something they’re passionate about, what makes their heartbeat speed up, what gives them a thrill to get to do it every day, something that makes waking up more appealing than not, but I was twenty-four and not any closer to finding mine. The only thing I’d ever felt that way about was a person, not a job at all. But I let his certainty wash through me all the same, his infectious optimismlike a balm atop the last of my insecurities. He soothed me even in his silence, as we sat there sipping our drinks, shooting the shit, and talking about some of our wildest dreams.
He was convinced winning an Oscar and a Golden Globe by thirty was ridiculous, but I wasn’t so sure. I stand by my take that he has a pretty good chance of garnering the attention of the powers that be between the last season ofMidnight Empire(and holy cow, the next one!) and that indie flick he shot over the summer. And if those don’t get him nominated for something, they’ll surely land him some other opportunities that can open those doors for him. I told him so, and he actuallyblushedthen changed the subject.
“Hey,” he said suddenly.
“Yeah?” I looked back up at him.
“I know you’re not, like,workingat the library anymore…” he trailed off.
“Yeah?” I repeated, staring at him curiously.
He hit me with a little devilish look that made my stomach flip and a rush of heat bloom down south.
“But I’d love to pretend you still do next time we go, maybe make use of one of those rooms off to the side…” His eyes tracked down my body, catching on my chest underneath the cozy sweater I was wearing, my breaths getting deeper as his gaze warmed me from the inside out. “You’re so good at staying quiet,” he said, all sexy and shit, and then we were done talking for the night, and put our mouths to use in other ways instead.
In the week since that conversation passed, I’m starting to have a pretty solid idea of what it is that’s important to me, what I want out of my life, what my dreams look like.
When Aaron gets home and fills me in on how the meeting went, I’m thrilled to hear that he’s agreed to get back to his normal filming schedule as of this next week, and I have the courtesy to pretend Alex wasn’t sending me real-time updatesthroughout the big talk, and act surprised at the news. His character has been being held and tortured by the rival family for the last three episodes, and they want to rescue him and bring him home in the next one. I’m excited for him because this is so much more character depth than a lot of the roles he’s played before, and the showrunners are really giving him a chance to cut his teeth on something meaty. I know he’s gonna kill it, and it’s going to absolutely blow up his opportunities for the future.
“You better warn Tom about all the offers he’s going to be getting for you,” I tell him, referring to his longtime agent. “Fuck it, I’ll text him.” I get out my phone and send him a quick message to start that conversation.
Aaron shakes his head at me, staring at me like I’m too good to be, and I grin back at him, cause sometimes, he really is.
“Hey,” he says seriously. I blink at him, waiting to hear what’s on his mind. Serious? Flirty? Can be hard to guess with him sometimes. “Will you come back to set with me? To the lot, when I go back?”
My eyes widen, and I think my mouth pops open a little, too, because he keeps going quickly. “Not as my assistant!” he clarifies. “Like, I know you have your business now. But, just, to be there with me? As my partner? It’s beenmonths, and I was such a dick, and I just…I feel like the best me when you’re with me, and that’s what I want to show them. That I’m back. For real.”
Not sure he took a breath during that little ramble, but I reach out to rub his bicep up and down reassuringly. “You don’t even have to ask, Stone. Where you go, I go.” The look of appreciation on his face warms a part of my heart I never even knew existed.
It’shis first day back. We’re in his trailer, prepping for his first shot back. Or, that’s what weshouldbe doing. Instead, Aaron is looking me over with a heated intensity I’ve come to know is a promise for what’s to come (spoiler alert: it’s me), and a chill breaks out along my limbs. The dark T-shirt he arrived in is thrown over the back of the small couch against the wall of the trailer, and he has yet to pull on the outfit wardrobe laid out for him. Which means, lucky me, I get a view of his chiseled abs and pecs—that tattoo he got there just for me—those fucking little lines at his hips, with nothing covering him but a pair of jeans, and I don’t mindat all.
Not sure how this is me helping him on his first day back, but hey. Not much of a complainer, me. Here to be supportive however he needs me to, not to ask questions. So I support him by taking in the sight before me appreciatively.
When he sees where my eyes are focused, he gives me a cocky little smirk with one side of his mouth, and brings his hand up to his face, running his fingers over his mouth with deliberation, drawing my eyes to what he’s doing. Those fingers. That mouth. I can’t help but be inundated with memories of the last two and a half weeks. All of the times I’ve felt his hands, his lips, his tongue all over me. Which was exactly his point, the bastard.
We’re not past that obsession stage yet—that time in a new relationship where you’ve lusted after each other for so long, that it takes an absoluteageto catch up on all the times you missed out on—and I’m honestly not sure we ever will be. No matter how many times we bring each other to ruin in a day, it’s never enough. I don’t think I’lleverget enough of him. I hope it’s not just a stage.
With this being his first real day back on set, basically the first day we haven’t spent the majority of the day holed up at one of our places, I had mentally prepared myself to go the entire day without him.
Mock me if you want, I know it sounds needy, but Idoneed as much of him as I can get. He’s the most intoxicating, addictive sort of craving I’ve ever had. And now, forced to stare down that ridged stomach that I could grind on and ride until I come, that chest my short nails have dug into countless times in recent days and nights, watch him tease me with those skilled fingers against that gifted, talented mouth of his…I’m not so sure I can make it all day, after all.
A tremble goes through my core when I recall exactly how that same stomach looked as he thrust in and out of me last night, clenched and toned, with a couple beads of sweat running down those lines, that definition. I gotta say, I’ve never been so thankful for all the work I put into keeping him on the regimen from his trainer for the past several years as when I get to admire our handiwork up close like that. Goddamn, is his pain-in-the-ass self-worth it when I get to reapallthe rewards from what we’ve sown.
I do my best to swallow without gulping, bring my eyes up to his face—hardly safer territory, if I’m being honest—and press my legs together to keep my arousal at bay. Leaning back against the mini fridge, I’m pressed almost as far away from him as I can be, but in the small living room of the trailer, it can’t be more than four feet from his half-naked body.
His tongue darts out to touch his top lip, then it slides down to the side of his mouth and retreats. I think I whimper in response. He drops his head forward in a little chuckle and then flicks his eyes back up at me, his head still tilted down toward the floor.
“You good over there, Gem?”
“Mmm,” I reply, as convincingly as possible.
“You look a little flushed. You staying hydrated? Need anything?”
