Fuck, does he look good in a suit.
I used to hardly ever think about sex. But now that I’ve had sex again, and had it with the gorgeous man standing in front of me, my body keeps aching for another go. It’s like I’m aware of what I’ve denied myself, and that makes it so much harder to deny again.
Would I really be so incapable of controlling my emotions if I had casual sex again? It seems a bit more possible now that the heightened, post-sex moments have passed.
Gabriel waggles his eyebrows. “You look unnervingly handsome. As always.”
I straighten my suit jacket, flustered by his annoying, foxy eyebrows. “You, too. I guess I’ll meet more of your friends tonight, is that right?” I ask. “Or will this mainly be business acquaintances?"
Gabriel shrugs. “Friends, I guess. Or something like it.”
“Who should I look out for?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you like Fox, but that’s a working relationship, too. And you hang out sometimes with Everett, Shadow, Nico…” I trail off, trying to remember the other names he’s mentioned. “But who are you closest to?”
I study him. Gabriel knows a million people, it seems like, and gets on well with all of them. It’s only now I’m realizing that he doesn’t seem to have a person, like I have Alyssa.
He turns to his boots. “Do I have to have a favorite?”
“No,” I say quickly as I grab my jacket. “Of course not.” When he still doesn’t say anything, I try again. “Hell, you know I’m not judging. You’re aware of the state of my social life.”
Gabriel looks up again, and it’s a little difficult to read the expression on his face. “I like these guys,” he says. “I’m getting to be decent friends with a few of them, especially the other musicians you’ll meet tonight. But I’ll be moving on soon. You know how it is.”
“Makes sense,” I agree.
I feel self-conscious that I was asking in the first place. It’s not like I’m his real husband meeting his friends for the first time.
Luckily, the awkward moment passes as quickly as I brought it on. We have a car take us instead of arriving on the motorcycle, and on the way, Gabriel asks me a million questions about playing in the Grand Slams and how the touring season works with the Masters kicking off soon.
“The ones I’m focused on are Miami at the end of March and then France,” I say, thinking through the schedule.
“That’s the one our teams put on the dating schedule. Miami at the end of March. And I guess I’ll attend all the Grand Slams?”
“Right,” I say with a nod, surprisingly flustered at the reminder Gabriel will be attending my most significant tournaments.
Having the man I’m with at my match will be crossing another barrier, but it’s inevitable, and I might as well get it over with.
He leans forward. His body whispers against mine as he pushes my door open for me.
“We’ll go a few weeks without seeing each other, looks like. The run-up to your season and my time in the studio keep us busy with excuses.”
“I’m glad we’ll both be able to focus on our careers,” I say, but disappointment sinks in my gut as I get out of the car. It is quite long until I see him again.
When he joins me, Gabriel’s got a look in his eyes. He’s switched into flirty mode, and I feel tingly until the phones come out and I remember why.
Right. This part is all for show.
Smoothly, he throws his arm around my side, smiling while he walks me in.
“No questions tonight,” he says as he holds his hand up to the flashing cameras. We pause for just a minute, turning to let enough proper photos get taken. “We’re just glad to be here and to celebrate Fox on his birthday.”
Someone pulls the doors open for us, and we enter the space.
“Just like entering a gala,” I say.
There’s a steady beat thrumming over an amazing sound system while people in high fashion mingle about. It’s dimly lit, but not dark, and behind scattered silver-and-black furniture, a stage takes up the rear wall.
