Lights dance across the bay, and I make a silent vow—I won’t ruin this by demanding more than she can offer. I can handle her terms. Something in my posture must change, because she turns in my arms, her gaze piercing and alive, reminiscent of those nights we’d debate existentialism as a form of foreplay.
“Don’t laugh,” she murmurs, barely audible above the harbor sounds. “But ninety days is practically a commitment ceremony for me.”
“Honeybee, coming from you, that’s practically a marriage proposal.”
She laughs, the sound vibrating against my chest. I want to bottle that laugh, keep it close for the lonely nights on tour when hotel rooms blur together and the only constant is her absence. “Marriage? You’re getting ahead of yourself, Singleton.” Her eyes catch the moonlight reflecting off the bay.
I press my lips to her temple, inhaling the scent of her shampoo mingled with the salt air. “Maybe a proposal will be in our future.”
The walk back to the hotel crackles with anticipation. We move at an easy pace, but there’s a quiet urgency in every step. Her hand in mine is at once comfortingly familiar and thrillingly new, like picking up a beloved novel and discovering hidden pages you never knew existed.
In the elevator, she leans against the wall, studying me with that lawyer’s gaze that sees through bullshit. “You’re plotting something.”
“You will see once we get inside our room.”
CHAPTER 29
MINJI
My careerand readers deserve better than a last-minute cancellation, but I seriously thought about it. There was a shift in Minji this morning. Her fingers dug into my shoulders; her voice dropped to that commanding whisper that made my skin burn. It was like she’d found a secret room inside herself and flung the door wide open. I’d happily spend the next two days exploring that room. Instead, I trail after her like a lovesick puppy through the empty bookstore, Advent Pages, where my next signing starts in less than an hour. I scroll through my phone while she stops in the non-fiction section and picks up a book.
“The doors are going to open in an hour.” I walk closer.
“You nervous?” Minji asks, looking up from the book she’s been flipping through.
I scan the rows of empty chairs awaiting readers, running fingers through my hair. “After a hundred signings? Please. But if I were nervous, would you ease my nerves?”
“Depends. Do you need easing?” She places the book back on the shelf.
“Come with me.” I take her hand and lead her to my signing area. We slip behind the signing table into the small curtainedspace set up for authors before events. My heart races as she follows me quietly. I love seeing this side of her. I press her gently against the wall. The space smells like new books and coffee, with just enough room for a table and chair. Her body fits against mine, her breath catching as my hands find her waist.
“So, I’ll ask you again, do you need easing?”
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t like indecent exposure or PDA.”
“Well,” she begins, suddenly reversing our positions, pushing me back against the wall with surprising strength. She fingers the chain at my neck before her hand slides down my chest, fingers tracing the outline of my belt buckle. “We are behind closed curtains. No one is here right now but us.”
My breath catches as her hand dips lower, cupping me through my jeans. “Minji, we can’t—the staff could?—”
“Could what?” she whispers. “Catch the famous Aaron Singleton being thoroughly debauched? You pulled me back here for a reason. Don’t tell me you are shy now.”
Before I can comment, she drops to her knees, looking up at me.
“Hold on,” I manage, despite how my body betrays me. “Tabitha might hear.”
“Then I suggest you stay very quiet.” Her fingers work at my zipper. “Unless you want her to get an earful.”
When her mouth closes around me, my head hits the wall. She’s slow and focused, watching every reaction as I try not to make a sound. Just as the tension peaks, a voice calls out from the bookstore floor. I’ve awakened something wild in Minji. A sex demon, I guess. She told me it’s been a while since she had sex, but her drive is high.
“Aaron?” I hear Tabitha call out to me.
“Tabitha!” I call out in a strangled whisper, hands flying to Minji’s shoulders. She doesn’t stop, those clever lawyerlips working me with devastating precision. Through the thin curtain, I hear my agent’s voice growing closer, chatting with what must be the bookstore manager.
“Aaron? Are you back there?”
Minji pulls back just enough to whisper, “What will you do? Risk getting caught or miss out on this?” Her tongue traces a slow circle around the tip of my cock that makes my knees buckle.
“Just—checking on some notes!” I call out, my voice embarrassingly high. “Be right there!”
