Page 62 of If the Stars Align
Before I have to let go.
“I don’t even know how my agent got me the audition,” he says, still stunned. “I mean, I’m proud of the work I’ve done, but it doesn’t really show my range. The director said she saw something in me, though.”
“Of course she did,” I say with a huge smile as I work hard to pull myself together to be supportive. To be a friend.
After all, long before we were lovers, Dex and I were friends. I have this sinking feeling that I’ll be reprising that role again soon.
He’s going to be an A-list celebrity. He’ll be rubbing elbows with the most dazzling people in Hollywood. In the world, even. Why would he want to stay tethered to me? What could I possibly have to offer Dex Oliver, the movie star? I’d just be a burden.
My mom’s vile words from years ago come barging back into my brain.
Is that really what you want, Sunny? To live in Dex’s shadow like that? To abandon your own dreams and follow him around like a lovesick puppy? And hope, against all odds, that he’ll come home to you every night?
Dex’s voice pulls me out of the depths of my waking nightmare, and back into his arms. Then he gives me a morsel of hope.
“They’re going to put my soap character in a coma. He’ll get in a car accident, and the evil twin will disappear when the police start asking questions. That way they can write me back into the script if the movie tanks,” he explains. “But the best part is—we’ll be filming in London in the fall. I can visit you while you’re in Paris.”
Me and Dex, together, in the most romantic city in the world? Now, that’s something to look forward to.
True to his word, Dex visits me in Paris in early October. The last time I saw him was in July, when he flew me out to LA for a weekend. It’s been a few months, but I’m actually shocked at how much he’s changed. He’s a lot more muscular, for one thing. I wonder if they made him bulk up for the movie. He’s wearing a dark gray cashmere sweater that fits tightly around his biceps. For the first time, he has a five o’clock shadow, which makes him look a little older. A little more rugged.
It’s sexy.He’s so damn sexy, I can barely breathe.
Dex must like what he sees too because, after a brief exchange of hellos and pleasantries, he has me pinned against the wall in the tiny foyer of my studio apartment. And his kisses feel different this time. There’s an urgency to them, like if he doesn’t have me right away, the world might end.
I like it.
I start to lift his sweater, and he pulls it over his head. “Holyshit,” I say, as my gaze falls to his abs. He’s always been fit, but now he has a fully defined six-pack—maybe even an eight-pack—not that it matters, but it’ll be fun to count later. Right now, I’m too distracted. I kiss his neck and bite him, softly sucking his skin between my teeth. He smells incredible. Not just soap and CK One anymore, but something warm, woodsy and very masculine. Something expensive, like the sweater I couldn’t wait for him to take off.
I’m not having sex with Oliver Dexter tonight. I’m having sex with Dex Oliver. The soap star. The soon-to-be movie star. And I’m completely captivated by him.
I unzip his jeans, get down on my knees and take him in my mouth until I know he’s close. Then I lean against the wall again and pull him toward me by his belt loops. I put my arms around his neck and wrap a leg around him.
“Touch me,” I whisper.
His hand goes up my inner thigh, and he moves my underwear aside. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he says when his fingers are inside me.
I close my eyes and sigh. “See what you do to me, Dex?”
He kneels down and lifts my dress to pull off my thong. Then he kisses the soft, pillowy flesh of my inner thighs. I know he adores that part of me, and it makes me smile. He runs his hands up the backs of my legs and pulls me closer to him. Then he puts his mouth on me. He savors me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. My hands are in his hair, and his tongue feels so good that the room starts spinning. But then he stands and, with his hands still gripping my ass, he carries me tothe kitchenette and sets me down on the counter.
He peels the layers of my dress and bra away from my breast and takes my nipple in his mouth. He knows how much I love that. I brush my fingertips up and down the nape of his neck because I like the way it makes him shudder. Then I slide my fingertips down the ripples of his abs and reach for him. I grip him, and he braces his hands on the counter, leaving space between us, like he’s trying to hold himself back from ravaging me.
But I don’t want him to.
“Fuck me,” I say under my breath. And he does. Right there, with pots and pans clattering next to me and crashing onto the floor. Then we move to the couch, where he teases me mercilessly with his tongue again and makes me beg for him. Finally, he throws me onto the bed, takes me in ways we’ve never tried before, and I’m screaming so loud my neighbor starts rapping on the wall.
But we’re done now.
Dex and I lie next to each other on the bed, holding hands and recovering.
When our labored breaths start to steady, I turn to him, and he smiles as though the weight of the world just lifted off his shoulders. I feel his joy wrap around my core like a hug from the inside out.
Maybethisis the happiest I’ve seen him.
“Do you want to shower with me?” I ask. We’re drenched in sweat.
Dex nods and kisses me.
