“Dempsey won’t go on until around nine,” he hedges.
“… Probably enough time to order room service.”
“Oh, fuck yes,” he says, “that is such a good idea.”
I grin and force myself to sit up. I grab the menu off the Lucite desk across the room and drop it in Adam’s lap. “Order me a waffle?”
“You got it.”
I move toward the en suite, and as I’m closing the bathroom door, I catch Adam unabashedly checking me out. He tosses me a wink, and I feel my entire body flush before I close the door. I turn on the faucet for modesty’s sake and take care of business, then slip on the hotel robe hanging near the shower before washing my hands and face.
Adam is sitting with his back against the headboard when I come out, still wearing only his boxer briefs. I bite my lip and allow myself another lingering look at his chest and abs.
Adam said he doesn’t want to go back to LA and pretend this never happened. Which is a relief, because I don’t think I could forget if I tried. I want this too much. I want it to be real.
I’ve been stripped bare for Adam in every conceivable way. Yet despite everything I’ve revealed to Adam today, I don’t think he truly gets how precarious my situation is—that if I don’t sign Dempsey, I will lose my job.
Yesterday, I wouldn’t have even considered telling him. Being that vulnerable in front of Adam Shaw of all people would have seemed like the worst possible decision. Now I’m not so sure.
Spending all day with Adam has changed my mind about a number of things. Namely, that he’s the sort of person who would use information like that against me.
For better or worse, I trust Adam.
“Hey, I want you to know… whatever happens with Dempsey, there’s no hard feelings.”
If I hadn’t spent so much of the day studying Adam, learning his every nuanced expression, I might not have caught the subtle way his face tightens at my words. But I do catch it, and that’s when I know—if I told Adam how badly I need this, what it will cost me if I don’t sign this band, he would bow out.
The problem is, I want to sign Dempsey because I’m the best choice at this stage of their career, not because I guilted my competition into backing off. I want the possibility of having something real with Adam, which can’t happen if a choice like that is hanging over our heads.
More than anything, I need to succeed in my career without feeling indebted to another man.
Adam snags the end of my belt and tugs me closer. I let him pull me down onto the bed for another slow, achingly sweet kiss.
He combs his fingers through my hair and offers a tender smile, like he wants to believe it just as badly as I do. “No hard feelings.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEENADAM
“Fuuuck, that’s good.”
Eleanor’s moans are the greatest soundtrack I’ve ever heard in my life. Though, admittedly, I like it best when I’m responsible for her pleasure. Right now the credit goes to a room service waffle. I swallow a bite of my burger and watch with rapt attention as she licks a bit of whipped cream off her finger and hums happily.
My cock starts to wake up again, and I adjust myself in my boxer briefs as subtly as I can. Eleanor is too absorbed in her food to notice, and I can’t say I blame her. I’m starving, too, and I ate back at the strip club. I’m not sure Eleanor’s had anything besides coffee, water, and pretzels all day.
“Should’ve ordered two,” I say before taking another huge bite of my burger.
She nods and shrugs. “Knowing Ralph, there will be good food at the after-party.”
Still chewing, I hold out my plate wordlessly. Eleanorgrabs a few fries and immediately shoves them into her mouth.
I grab one of the thick cloth napkins from the room service tray and wipe my hands off. “Speaking of…” I swipe the napkin across my mouth, too, and aim for casual when I say, “Jane gave me a few recommendations for restaurants back in LA.”
“Oh yeah?” Eleanor glances over briefly before picking up her fork again and dipping another piece of waffle into the maple syrup.
“Yeah. Maybe we could check one out together.”
Eleanor stops chewing for a moment. She looks over at me and lifts a hand to cover her mouth. She hurries to swallow, and with her fingers still hovering in front of her lips, she asks: “Like a date?”
The question makes her flush, cute as hell.
