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Chapter 25

Sloan

♪26 | Paramore

It had been three days since we’d come back from Minnesota, and every morning since, it had been a feat getting Jason out of bed and off to be Jaxon Waters.

“Don’t you have to get ready?” I giggled. He was all hands today. “Zane’s going to be here at seven.”

He made a dismissive male grunt and trailed his lips down my naked chest, working his bare shoulders under the sheets. I smiled.

Jason’s new personal assistant, Zane, had started on Monday. A tough-looking, no-nonsense woman with a pompadour, cuffed jeans, and a naked lady tattooed on her forearm. She spoke Spanish, was experienced, knew her way around LA, and she was amazing.

She drove him to his appointments so he didn’t have to deal with traffic and she made sure he ate and got to places on time. Zane turned out to be exactly what he needed because his schedule had officially become ridiculous.

His soundtrack was being released on Friday, and he had radio and TV interviews and photo shoots every day this week. The theme song for the movie was particularly promising. Next weekend he was even playing Saturday Night Live.

Jason started pulling my underwear down. I wriggled, tapping his shoulder. “No, no, no. Come on, get in the shower.”

His head popped up from under the sheet and he gave me a sad puppy dog look.

I smiled at him. “I won’t contribute to your delinquency. You have that KROQ thing today.”

He let out a sigh and rolled off me onto his back, putting an arm over his face. “You make me insane. I can’t keep my hands off you.”

My cell phone pinged, and I leaned over with a grin and reached for it.

“Who’s that?” he asked. It was barely 6:15 in the morning.

“Your mom.”

“My mom? She doesn’t text.”

“She texts me,” I said, flashing him the screen and then going back to typing a response.

“Unbelievable.”

“Well, she’s not going to call me and read me a recipe over the phone like a crazy person,” I said. “It’s eight fifteen there. She found a recipe in a magazine for sloppy joes she thinks you’ll like. And she wants to know if I know how to make a compote.”

“Do you?”

I snorted. “Well, yeah, of course.”

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me and I set the phone down on my chest, smiling. “What?”

“Go on a date with me tonight.”

“You mean go outside?”

We hadn’t spent any time together out of bed since we’d come back from Minnesota. He’d spent the night at my house for the last three nights. I loved it. I loved going to sleep in his arms and waking up to him.

“Let me wine and dine you,” he said. “Walk with you on the beach and hold your hand.”

I put my arms around his neck. “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you, my music man.”

He kissed me deeply and I thought for a second I was going to have to remind him about his call time again. But he broke away and rubbed his nose to mine. “Hey, what do you think about me using that empty bottom drawer in the dresser? Maybe unpack my backpack? Hang it in the closet?”

The request hit me like a bucket of ice water. My response was so knee-jerk I didn’t have time to rein it in. I bit my lip and shook my head. “No. I can’t.”