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Asher goes first to call the press conference to order. Then keeping our hands joined, we walk out to a blaze of camera fire, and move to stand at the microphone.
“Good morning,” Mick begins, his voice clear and steady. The crowd of reporters settles. “These past few days have been hell, as rumors and lies have swirled about us. I want to thank my incredible wife for her depth of loyalty and unwavering faith in me. I also want to thank our family, friends, fans, and everyone who took to social media to defend me against the baseless claims. Thank you to the Chicago Children’s We Care Foundation for their continued patience while I sorted this out. Andfinally, appreciation goes to those of you in the media that reported the events with professional integrity, allowing the facts to bare out.
“Unfortunately, not everyone was as concerned with the truth and many were downright cruel. I kept our relationship out of the public for that very reason. I didn’t want Dee to have to deal with vicious attacks. But she has, proving herself to be stronger and more resilient than ever.
“I love and respect my wife. I value our life together. I did not and would not have an affair. Many of you were duped by a fake story. It dismays me how quickly there was a rush to judgment. But here are the facts as you will see for yourselves.”
Asher cues up the system. I know it guts Mick to have me watch the video again. That because of Lisa’s vindictiveness, it will forever live on the Internet. Unfortunately, we can’t change that, but I can let Mick know that it can’t hurt me or change anything between us.
I give him a tender smile, then mouth “it’s okay” before I turn my head and stoically face the screen. Mick pulls me close and together we watch the videos play side by side. Two almost identical clips. The one that went viral had been digitally altered to show a recent date stamp and the ending cut short. While the unedited, longer version, shows the real date from back in October and Mick ultimately rejecting Lisa’s sexual advance.
Murmurs follow as we pivot back to the front. A few reporters even have the grace to bow their heads knowing they were part of perpetuating the lie.
“As is obvious from the footage,” Mick resumes, “the video was taken before my relationship with Dee and did not accurately represent the full story. Nevertheless, I regret my poor judgment and apologize to my wife for being dragged into an attempted scandal.”
He ends the statement to a flurry of questions.
Lisa Manning denies posting the video. Do you believe her?
“No comment.”
Is she obsessed with you?
“No comment.”
Are you going to seek legal action against Mr. Duncan and Ms. Manning?
“I’ll leave that with my legal team to comment on. As for Dee and I, we are anxious to put this nightmare behind us and move forward.”
“That’s all.” Asher steps in and holds his hand up. “Thank you for coming.”
Mick ushers me away through the blaze of camera explosions to the limo where Bernard is waiting out front.
Micah
I don’t have to guesshow pleased Dee was about the press conference. Her affectionate demeanor and excited praise during the drive home leave no room for doubt. Nor does the way she attacks me the instant we’re at home and behind closed doors—like a sexy tigress. Her tongue licks into my mouth. Her hands shove off my suit jacket, pulling my shirt out of the waistband of my pants, pushing beneath the material to claw her fingers over my muscles.
“If I had known press conferences were such a turn on—”
“They’re not.” She pants with impatience. “But you are. Commanding the audience, pledging your love…I want you.Now.”
On an aroused laugh, I toe-off my shoes. Seconds later Dee pulls away and my amusement dies. Her curls are piled up on top of her head in an alluring style, with a few loose wisps falling along her graceful neck and framing her beautiful face. Watching me, she unties the belted bow at her waist, and without hesitation, slithers out of the wrap dress. It drops quietly to the floor, pooling at her feet.
I stand frozen in place. Only I don’t feel anything close to cold. I feel in-the-desert-at-high-noon hot. She’s wearing a translucent bra and panty set, sheer thigh stockings, and high nude heels. She’s naked but not. I can’t tear my eyes away from the decadence of Dee. Her milk-chocolate nipples are pebbled through the gauzy material, her full breasts swell above the demi-cups. Her landing strip peeks through the sheer V between her voluptuous thighs.
Looking at her makes me primal. Like a caveman on steroids. I put my hands on her waist. Slide them up her ribcage. She breathes out a tiny giggle. I’d first discovered her ticklish spots when we were fifteen and I was trying to wrestle out of her the answers from a test. I would use any excuse back then to touch her. How lucky am I that I no longer need one?
I trail my palms higher to the under curves of her breasts. I cup them through the thin layer, hefting their weight, gently squeezing.
“Mick,” she moans when I rub my thumbs across her hardened nipples. “I’m supposed to be seducing you.”
“You are…just by being you.”
“Let’s go to the bedroom.” She unbuckles my belt and undoes the button.
“Too far.” Deepening the kiss, I walk her several steps in a slow dance to the living room. “Leave the heels on,” I murmur, lowering her to the area rug.
My mouth finds hers again, hot and sultry. Her arms circle my neck, holding me to her. My fingers encounter her belly above the bikini line of her panties, softly rounded, quivering when my knuckles sweep across the skin.
