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He knows because I’ve told him. At this point, there’s not much I haven’t. I watch his fingers as they weave in and out of mine. It’s erotic somehow, just this little touch. And it’s sweet, too. Sort of romantic, even. “How about you? What did you do with your morning before I got here?”

  “Actually, I was working on a script myself. For the next video I’m releasing. We’re shooting back in LA next month when the tour is over.”

  “Oh, how fun.” I hesitate to say any more, afraid it might be too presumptuous to ask if I can watch. Of all the sets I’ve ever been on in my acting career, a music video is about the only kind I haven’t experienced.

  “I have a favor to ask you,” Nick says. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but would you consider starring in it?”

  “Yes,” I say, in my excitement, before I even think about it.

  Then I do think about it, and I almost reconsider. “I mean, actors and actresses star in music videos all the time. Don’t they? It won’t come across as anything the gossip mags need to buzz about, will it?”

  He shrugs. “Literally all the time, yeah. Maybe someone might make an assumption, but you know rumors don’t need anything to get started. And if we don’t add fuel to them, the fire will go out soon enough. I don’t think it would be any worse than the stuff that gets said about any male and female celebrity collaboration.”

  I can hear in his voice how much he wants me to do this, and I want to do it for him. If for nothing else, it would be a nice memory of our time together, captured professionally.

  “I’ll do it,” I say. “I’d love to do it.”

  His shoulders relax and I realize that he was worried about asking me. It’s charming, and I feel all the more pleased about my answer. I like making him happy, I think. I like it when he smiles because of something I’ve said or done. I like it when he looks at me the way he’s looking at me right now, like he’s grateful for my presence. Like he’s glad just to be in a room with me.

  My heart trips, starts beating faster. My chest feels tight, and a fire starts low in my belly. Electricity passes between us where our hands are connected. There’s so much going on inside me, so many strange emotions that I feel like I should be doing something. Though, for the life of me, I couldn’t say what. So instead, I fidget, and avoid making any further eye contact while I wonder.

  Nick seems to have the same nervous energy, and he’s the one who finds a way to resolve it. He stands suddenly, his hand still holding mine. “Dance with me,” he says.

  I almost make a comment about there not being any music, except I realize there is music, something soft and instrumental that’s been playing in the background throughout our meal. The strange, hypnotic current is still traveling between us, pulsing to the beat of the music, and I want to dance with him. I want to be in his arms and move together more desperately than I can admit.

  I want to lose myself in the rhythm and forget all these swirling questions about whether we’re getting too close.

  So instead of speaking, I answer by pushing my chair away from the table and walking into his arms.

  He wraps himself around me, and we find the rhythm together quickly, our bodies melting into each other. He leans his forehead against mine, and it feels like there are things he wants to say, things I can’t possibly let him say. Part of me still wants them. I want to hear that he thinks of me as more than the older woman he’s been sharing a bed with these last couple of months. I want to hear him say there could be more between us. Want to hear him say he has feelings for me, and I want to be able to say I have feelings for him.

  But, of course, if he did say those things, I’d have to walk away. We can’t have more, not with the distance between us. We have different goals. Different futures on the horizon. Which is why I have to live in this moment, this one version of now that we have, because there’s no way it will last.

  I can’t lose myself in the dance. I need to re-find myself, and I’m afraid if I don’t, this is going to hurt. Unbearably.

  Suddenly, I want to make the best of our time together. I want to give him as much of myself as he has given me of him.

  “What would you want to do with me on vacation if you weren’t a celebrity?” I ask.

  “Well, I thought we could take the boat out. We have privacy on the ocean.”

  “No. If you weren’t a celebrity. If you could go anywhere at all without worrying about the fans.”

  “Easy,” he says. “I’d take you to Disney World.”

  I laugh and then quickly my mirth dies when I realize how serious he is. As I think about it, I imagine how amazing that would be. It’s been years since I’ve gone to an amusement park. Years since I’ve gone anywhere so public and crowded. Years since I’ve allowed myself that much fun.

  Maybe it’s because Nick makes me feel so alive and young. Or maybe it’s because of that pocket universe theory I’d imagined earlier. I’m beginning to feel invincible with him. Even a little reckless. After all, we have a legitimate reason to be seen together with this music video.

  Whatever the reason, I’m sincere and excited when I say, “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Roller Coaster

  Nick

  “Two All-Day Passes to the Magic Kingdom for myself and my princess.” I hand the plastic card with a picture of Cinderella’s castle on it to Natalia and keep the one with the Beast on it for myself. She wrinkles her nose adorably, but doesn’t protest my use of the endearment. After all, at Disney, every girl’s a princess, right?

  “Thanks.” She moves her shopping bag from one hand to the other and stuffs the day pass into her back pocket, where it will be lucky enough to spend the day with her ass. “Want to see what I got us?”

  While I’d stood in line to make our ticket purchase, she had browsed the vendors outside the park before finding a quiet spot away from everyone to wait for me. I found her tucked into the shadows near the bathrooms, likely avoiding the crowds of people streaming past her to the entrance. It’s only the beginning of our day, and I’m already worried that this trip into the public eye might be too much for her.

  If I were a gentleman, I’d let her off the hook. Tell her we don’t have to go through with it.

  But I’m too excited about spending this time with her. Not just because it’s finally a chance to go out with the woman I love, like a normal couple, but also because I want to do this with her. I missed out on so much regular-kid stuff because of the Ryder Brothers. And how often these days do I have a chance to have a first time at something? Taking my very first trip to Disney World is something I can share with her while also fulfilling the dreams of baby-Nick from years ago.

  Only now we can drink, so maybe even better than those dreams.

  “Lay it on me,” I say.

  And she does. Literally. She pulls out a ball cap with Mickey Mouse ears on the top and places it on my head, then brings out a second cap, red this time, and sticks it on her own. In addition to the ears, hers also has a red and white polka-dot bow.

  “I think it’s a theme-fitting disguise,” she says, tossing the bag into a nearby garbage can and cupping one hand around her mouse-ear. “What’s that you say? There’s someone famous in the park? You’re right! It’s Minnie Mouse!”

  She’s unbelievably adorable, even when she’s anxious about our adventure. I can picture her as a mother, risking publicity to take her kids to Disney. She’d make it a game like she is now, and they’d go bananas for it.

  I’m bananas for it. I’m bananas for her. I want those kids in her future to be my kids too, and the vision of that is so magical in my head, it takes all my restraint not to kiss her. I have a feeling I’m going to be exercising that restraint all day. She agreed to going to a wildly popular amusement park with me, but I know full well that I haven’t convinced her to throw caution to the wind and just be my girlfriend. We aren’t that kind of together.

  Though, more and more it feels like we are that kind of tog
ether. We went from rushing through pleasantries on text to get to the sexy stuff, to hours on the phone discussing our pasts and our futures. That isn’t what fuckbuddies do. It’s what partners do. I just don’t know if she’s realized that yet.

  Fortunately, I can be patient.

  “Oh, I have one more thing. Hold out your hand.” I pull out the extra wristband that was given to me by the woman at the ticket stand and wrap one around Natalia’s tiny wrist.

  “What are these for?” she asks, noticing the matching band that I’m already wearing.

  I grin, knowing I’ve scored in securing these simple items. “They get us to the front of the lines on most of the rides. We’re jumping the queues, girl.”

  Her jaw practically drops. “And they just gave them to you?”

  “Pretty much. I think she recognized me, because after I purchased the tickets, she passed these over and said, ‘This should make things easier.’ I wasn’t going to argue about it.”

  Nat’s face goes pale, which was not the reaction I’d been expecting. She swallows, and while I can’t see her eyes behind the reflective lenses of her sunglasses, I sense she’s blinking a lot, something she does when she gets nervous or concerned.

  “The ticket lady recognized you?” She wrings her hands in front of her. “The very first person who sees us here recognized you. Maybe this is a bad idea. We’re going to get swarmed with fans. We’re just inviting the tabloids to come find us. What if we just go back to the hotel and watch Disney movies instead? We can keep wearing our ears.”

  I look around to be sure no one is watching us then step closer to her. I can’t wrap her up in my arms like I want to, so instead I try to wrap my voice around her, warm and soft. “My credit card says N. Ryder. And I wasn’t wearing my sunglasses. It was going to be hard for her not to recognize me. That’s why you didn’t go with me to the booth, remember? She’s the only person who we really have to deal with face to face today. I think we’re going to be fine. Frankly, the passes will make things easier, because we won’t have to hang out in crowds where no one has anything better to do than stare at each other. I can’t possibly be her first celebrity if she knew to do that.”

  My eyes travel to her mouth as her tongue pokes out to wet her lips. My dick jumps at the gesture, and I have to force myself to look back at my reflection in her lenses before I do something impulsive, like kiss the fuck out of her.

  And then fuck more kisses out of her.

  “But even though I think we’re safe,” I continue, once I have my attention in the right place, “if you would prefer to ditch the park and spend the day riding my face back in my hotel room instead, I’m not going to try to talk you out of it.”

  She blushes, then gently shakes her head. “No. As much as I’m tempted by your other offer, I really do want to be here. I used to love roller coasters. I can’t even remember the last time I was on one.”

  “I can tell you when you last rode one. It was this morning, when you rode my cock cowgirl-style. Up and up and up until you went over the big one.”

  “Nick!” she admonishes, even as her cheeks flush in remembered desire. “You have to stop that. We are in public.”

  There’s still no one within hearing distance of us, but I concede with a laugh. “Okay, okay. I can be good if you can. Which means, be careful how you lick those lips of yours if you expect me not to join you with it.”

  She swats me playfully on the arm. “Maybe you just keep your eyes to yourself.”

  And my hands. And my mouth. Yeah, yeah, I know. Won’t make it any easier.

  “Shall we go in?” I ask, giving her one more chance to back out.

  She doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes. And I get to pick the first ride.” There’s a bounce in her step as she starts toward the gates.

  I follow after her, trying my hardest not to stare at her tight ass swaying in front of me, and failing. “And what ride is that?”

  “Space Mountain,” she retorts. “Duh.”

  Goddamn, I love this woman. It takes all I have not to shout it aloud. “Excellent choice,” I say instead.

  We ride Space Mountain three times in a row. My inner child is as happy as its been since cake-smash birthdays. Skipping the line means we don’t have to spend our entire day crawling toward the start of the ride with potential fans. It gives us a much better chance at laying low, and it seems to work.

  It’s as though when we’re together, a spell protects us. It’s the only way I can think we haven’t been busted by now. Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo. By midday we still haven’t been recognized by anyone, and we’ve both begun to relax at the most magical place on earth.

  Somewhat relax, anyway. There’s still tension between us, but now it’s just the extreme sexual pull that is always present between our bodies. When was the last time I was with Natalia that I had to concentrate so hard on keeping my hands off of her? When was the last time I had to give my cock a pep talk about inappropriate times to show off? Typically, in a hotel, we’re free to act on every urge. It’s a tough readjustment.

  There’s something exciting about it, too. The looks we exchange are long. The distance between us as we stand waiting for our turn on the next ride gets shorter and shorter. We might not be touching, but that’s only a technicality, considering how we gravitate toward each other. I’ve spent half the day with a semi, and it’s all I can do not to jack off in a stall when I take a restroom break. All I can say is Natalia better be prepared for a marathon in my bed tonight to reward me for all this holding back.

  Just thinking about what I have to look forward to is the only thing keeping me in line at the moment. Both literally and figuratively.

  While the electricity between us is ultra high throughout the day, it’s not until we’re on the Haunted Mansion ride that I discover I’m not the only one with the problem of restraint. The two of us are finally, blessedly alone in a car with a high back. So not only are we unable to see the people around us, but they’re unable to see us. It’s what I’ve been waiting for all day. The second we’re plunged into the dark, Nat shows me she was waiting, too, crashing toward me so that our lips can meet in a frenzied, scorching kiss.

  My tongue knows her mouth now, every bit of it. I’ve memorized the rhythm that she prefers, slow then fast. Shallow, sipping at her lips, then deep and long, exploring all she has to offer. It’s how she likes to take my cock too, at varying tempos and depths of my strokes, and I can’t kiss her anymore without making love to her mouth. I can’t touch her anymore without making love to her body. I can’t hold back these emotions anymore, and though I haven’t said the words, she has to feel my love in our every interaction.

  Even in this make-out session in Disney’s Haunted Mansion.

  “It’s so hard not to touch you,” she whispers when my kisses travel to her nape.

  God, I know. So hard. My cock presses against the zipper of my jeans, echoing the sentiment.

  “Touch me now, baby,” I urge, pulling her hand to cover the aching bulge in my lap. I hiss when she begins fondling me through my pants, and though what she’s doing is fucking incredible, I’m more interested in touching her. I push my hand inside her shorts and panties. “Spread your legs, Nat. At best we have four minutes before this ride is over, and I want to make it count.”

  I make it a game, and it’s the best game. Stroking her tight little clit, making her wriggle and squirm in our seat while being driven past scenes of mischievous ghosts. Can I make her finish before the ride is over?

  It doesn’t take long but I win. She clings to me as she starts to shudder and fall apart, alternatively using my mouth to swallow up her cries and burying her face in my shoulder. She’s glistening with sweat and her cheeks are rosy red by the time we get to the end of the ride. Thank God for the hoodie she insisted on buying at the last store we stopped in, otherwise I’d have nothing to hide my enormous erection as we jump out of the car and make our exit, avoiding eye contact with anyone waiting.

  Now
we’re back to practicing restraint. Back to keeping our hands to ourselves. Back to the aching torture.

  “Where next?” I ask, taking deep breaths and refusing to look at her while I try to calm my dick down.

  A naughty grin slides across her lips. “What other rides will put us alone in the dark?”

  Maybe I don’t have to calm my dick down after all. I just have to convince him to be patient.

  We head next to Fantasyland. Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride is a dark single car ride, and we do make out on it, but we’re jerked around so much that we mostly end up laughing. Peter Pan’s Flight is much smoother going, but flying through a night sky has a romantic aspect that the other rides didn’t, and I find I just want to pull her close and hold her. So I do. She doesn’t seem to mind, and the sexual tension that’s remained taut between us all day changes to something warmer. Something thicker. Something almost tangible. Something I want to hold onto and cherish as tightly as my music and my career and my brothers. More, even.

  We’ve just finished eating dinner at Aloha Isle outside the Enchanted Tiki Room when it happens—I’m recognized. I’m waiting at our table for Natalia to return from the bathroom, and a group of somewhat tipsy sorority girls proposition me for pictures and autographs.

  “Uh, sure,” I say, trying to subtly check for Nat and warn her while also giving attention to my fans. “One quick group selfie. How’s that?”

  The girls agree, but are too excited and inebriated to make the picture a quick one. There is still a blonde hanging on my shoulder and a redhead trying to sit on my lap when Nat returns. The look on her face—one of shock and pure panic—mimics the feeling squeezing my chest. Our safe little bubble, just like that, has been popped.

  “Oh my God,” a petite, glossy-eyed brunette exclaims. “You’re Natalia Lowen! Wait. Are you two here together?”

  I clam up, not sure how she wants me to address this. Do I pretend it’s coincidence that we’ve bumped into each other here? Or do I brush off the question altogether?