Page 66 of You Rock My World
I shift, gathering my thoughts, but it’s impossible with him this close. “You’re distracting me.”
He grins, tilting his head. “That’s the idea.”
I nudge his shoulder. “Is your plan to keep me flustered so I never ask you the tough questions?”
He backs off. “The opposite, I want you to ask all the hard questions. But I also love messing with you.”
I shift closer, pressing my hand flat on his chest and tilting my chin up, my lips a whisper from his. “What if I mess with you in return?”
His eyes darken, his fingers flexing. He looks two seconds away from grabbing my face. “Josie.”
I let my lips part, wetting them. “What?”
His gaze drops to my mouth before bouncing back. Then, with visible effort, he pulls back, dragging a hand through his hair. “Alright. You win. Let’s get through the hard stuff first.”
I swallow, letting the teasing slip away, because the words I need to say are not that fun. I straighten up. “Earlier, you got furious with Tessa. It wasn’t simple frustration, it was… more.”
“I’m stressed, I snapped. You never snap?”
“I do.” I watch him, weighing up how much to say. “It’s not just today. I’ve heard things over the years. At the agency.”
Dorian’s hand, which had been resting loosely on his thigh, now closes into a fist.
“The night we met…” I swallow, forcing myself to continue. “You were there because a video of you punching a guy went viral.”
He keeps his body very still, but tension ripples under his muscles. “What’s the question?”
“Do you always carry this much anger and struggle to manage your temper or is it just Billie who turns you like that?”
“It’s her. That night was about her, too.”
My insecurities crawl back out of the dark as he tenses at the mere mention of his ex. Fucking Billie. I’ve never agreed more with Tessa.
He says she’s the past, but then?—
“That night.” Dorian’s gaze gets distant as if he is staringthroughthe floor, replaying something only he can see. “You want to know why I punched that guy?” he asks, still not looking at me.
“I do.”
Dorian drags his hands over his face, as if wiping away a memory he’d rather leave buried. When he speaks, his voice sounds like it’s being dragged out of him through broken glass.
“When I was in New Orleans with Billie, things were already bad. We were staying in separate rooms. Fighting all the time. But I hadn’t given up yet. I thought if we got through that tour, we’d figure our shit out.” He frowns as if looking directly into the past. “That day, she’d missed rehearsal before our show. No texts, no calls. She wasn’t answering her phone, so I went to her room to check on her.” He huffs a short, humorless breath. “I had a key. Walked in. And she was in bed with someone else.”
Nausea rolls through me. “Who?”
His mouth presses into a tight line. “Another woman I’d never seen before.”
I’m not sure what reaction to have.
He glances at me now, his expression unreadable. “But that’s not what fucked me up.”
I want to hug him, but I let him continue without interrupting.
“I still thought we were monogamous,” he says simply. “We hadn’t had sex in forever, but I never strayed. And that day, she looked me in the eye and invited me to join them like it was nothing. And when I didn’t, she threw a shoe at me and called me a pussy.”
My stomach twists.
Dorian leans forward, elbows on his knees, studying his hands like they hold the answer to something. “I was hurting like hell. I didn’t go to my room because I couldn’t bear to be alone and went to get a drink at the hotel bar instead. And that’s when some asshole comes up to me, already half-wasted, grinning like we’re old pals, and says, ‘Man, your wife has the best tits I’ve ever seen.’”
