Page 29 of You Rock My World

DORIAN

I stand in the stillness of my kitchen, waiting for her. The staff have been dismissed for the evening. Everything is ready. I check my watch again. She’s not late, but the anticipation gnaws at me.

I walk to the French doors leading to the back patio and pull them open, welcoming the gentle breeze that rustles my hair.

The table is set, understated but elegant.

The appetizers arranged with care. I considered lighting a hundred candles, but in the end, decided to keep it simple. I don’t want to overwhelm Josie.

The fairy lights strung above twinkle like distant stars. They’re enough , I tell myself. I straighten a fork, making sure everything is perfect. Even if perfection isn’t what she’s after. It’s not what I’m looking for, either. I tilt the fork back at the previous weird angle.

Before I move more stuff that doesn’t need readjusting, I return to the kitchen and lean against the counter, arms crossed. Checking my watch again, I fight the urge to pace as the minutes crawl by with agonizing slowness until finally, security alerts me my guest has arrived.

I practically skip to the other side of the house, drying my palms against my jeans. One last inhale, and I swing the door open.

Josie shifts shyly under the warm porch light, stealing the ability to speak from me.

She’s breathtaking. Her hair is in her favorite style, half up with loose waves cascading over her shoulders, and she’s wearing a simple white dress that cinches at the waist, falling above her knees.

The fabric sways in the breeze, held up only by maddeningly thin straps. I’m transfixed.

The lingering scrutiny must give away my thoughts seeing how she’s blushing when I finally meet her gaze.

“Hi,” Josie says, eyes sparkling.

I step forward and wrap her in a hug. She leans into me without hesitation, her arms sliding around my waist, and I allow myself to inhale the salty, floral scent of her shampoo.

“I’m glad you’re here.” My lips graze the shell of her ear. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” she whispers, looking up at me. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

“I might need to give you more work,” I tease, dropping my hand to the small of her back as I guide her across the house. “I can’t go another day without an excuse to see you.”

Josie beams up at me, her smile radiant. “Are you canceling the last part of the tour and haven’t told me?”

“No. But it’s the least excited I’ve been to be on the road in a long time. I hate that I’m leaving right after the VMAs, so soon after reconnecting with you.”

A small, shy nod is her only response. As we step on the patio, Josie’s eyes light up even more as she takes in the romantic setting.

“Dorian, this is…” She trails off, seemingly at a loss for words. I pull out her chair, and she sits, smiling as she surveys the spread of appetizers. “This is amazing,” she finally manages.

“I have to turn on the oven for the main course.” I step back. “Don’t steal the good stuff while I’m gone.”

Josie’s answering laugh follows me into the house. When I return a few minutes later with a pitcher of iced water, I stop mid-step. Josie freezes, wide-eyed, caught red-handed with a half-eaten stuffed mushroom in her hand.

“I couldn’t help it,” she mumbles around the bite, her cheeks adorably puffed with food. “I’m starving.”

I set the pitcher down, shaking my head in mock-disapproval. “Did you eat something sensible for lunch, or was it snacks out of your bag again?”

Josie swallows her bite, her expression shifting to sheepishness. “Guilty,” she admits. “I wanted to catch up with my tech clients and didn’t take a lunch break.”

“One day,” I say, sitting by her side at the round table so we both have a view, “I’m confiscating the purse food. Consider it an intervention.”

She laughs. “Good luck prying it away from me. I might bite.”

“I might like it.” I wink at her, then pour her a glass of water she looks like she could use, seeing how she’s coughing after my teasing comment.

Once she’s recovered, I move the appetizers closer to her. “Let’s make sure you don’t starve tonight, at least.”

Josie pops another canapé in her mouth whole, moaning as she bites down on it. That sound does weird things to my chest, and I grab the table so hard my knuckles turn white.

It’s good to wait, I remind myself. Not to throw the entire spread of food on the floor, sit Josie on the table, and feast on her instead.

I shake the mental image away, not what tonight is about. Tonight is about getting to know each other better.

“Tell me about your art.” I take a sip of water to cool the heat spreading through my body. “Have you always had a passion for drawing? What were you illustrating the other night when I called?”

The question earns me a big smile and a dance of freckles. “After telling Penny a bedtime story, I went home and felt this urge to bring it to life. The characters were begging me to give them form.”

“For me, it’s the same with songs. What was the story about?”

She glances down at her plate with a nonchalant shrug. “Merpeople.”

“Ah. Was a tattooed merman included, by any chance?”

Josie groans, covering her face with her hands. “Ugh, Penny and her big mouth. I swear, that girl…”

“I should spend more time with your niece.” I wipe my mouth on the cloth napkin before taking another sip of water. “Get all the dirt on her favorite aunt.”

“Do you really mean that? My family wasn’t too much the other night?”

I take her hand in mine, my thumb caressing her knuckles.

“Josie, it was great to meet everyone. Honestly, I didn’t realize how much I missed being part of a family until I was with yours.

” I pause, unsure if I should go on. But that’s why we’re here.

To learn these things about each other. The good.

The ugly. So I give her everything. “The past two years, I’ve been pretty lonely. ”

Her expression softens, and she squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry, Dorian.”

The timer on my phone sounds, reminding me it’s time to take the main course out of the oven. Reluctantly, I stand up, but not before leaning in close to Josie. With a gentle tap on her nose, I whisper, “I’m not lonely anymore.”

As I walk towards the kitchen, I can sense her gaze on me. Knowing she’s here, in my space, feels dangerously close to the thing I didn’t think I’d have again… a home. I turn my head over my shoulder and find her eyes glued to my— ass .

So much for my soppy nonsense. Trust her to knock me off balance with a look and somehow make me enjoy it.

I swivel my hips in an exaggerated shimmy. “You like the view, Monroe? Should I give you the full show?”

“Woo-hoo,” she cat-calls. “I’ll be waiting with my one-dollar bills.”

I spin around dramatically. “One dollar? I’m worth at least fives.”

“I’d tip more, but I hear you’re already rolling in platinum records.”

I’m smiling like an idiot the entire time I’m in the kitchen.

When I take out the potato-crusted halibut, the aroma of herbs and garlic follows me outside. I set the dish on the table and scoop a generous portion for Josie.

She laughs as I hand her the plate. “Dorian, I’m not that starved!” Despite her protest, she devours the first few bites like a castaway on a desert island.

“Good, huh?”

“Terrible,” Josie says around a mouthful. “The worst thing I’ve ever eaten. You should fire your chef. And I should take any leftovers off of you, for your well-being.”

I chuckle. “I’ll pass along your harsh critique.”

As we eat and talk about all and nothing, Josie’s gaze keeps drifting to the tattoos on my arms.

It happens again, and again, each glance lingering longer. Is she fascinated? Does she find the ink excessive? Or maybe… she’s turned on?

“You really have a thing for my tattoos, don’t you?”

“I’m obsessed,” she deadpans, and I’ve no idea if she’s joking. “I want to know the story behind each one.”

Not joking, then.

And I want to share them with her. Each tattoo is a piece of me, a visible timeline of who I am and what I’ve been through. “We might not get through them all tonight, but we can start. Which one do you want to know about first?”

“What does the line of text on your ribs say? I’ve wanted to read it since the photoshoot.”

Ah, she always goes straight for the throat, catching me at my most vulnerable.

I lean back and lift my T-shirt, revealing the inscription. Josie’s eyes snag on it, drinking me in more ravenously than when she was staring at the food.

“It’s a lyric from the song I wrote about my mom,” I explain softly. “‘You let me borrow your wings, so I could fly.’”

Josie’s fingertips trace the words. The unexpected contact sets my skin on fire, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to start purring like an overeager tomcat.

“That line is beautiful,” she whispers, slowly retreating her hand.

I let my shirt fall back down, the fabric a poor substitute for her electric touch. “Which one’s next?”

Josie shifts her chair to face me and reaches for my wrists.

And I mirror her, angling my chair so the table is no longer between us.

Her hand trails, featherlight, up my arms, exploring with both her eyes and fingertips.

I struggle to keep still, caught between wanting the not-enough touch to end and wishing it could last forever.

Her fingers graze over my left forearm, following the dark, intricate linework that coils over my skin. As she moves higher, the design changes. The sharp geometry softens into curling vines, delicate leaves, and large, blooming roses.

“Why all the thorns?”

“Sometimes, my inspiration comes from things that cut deep.”

“So tormented, rockstar. Do you ever sing about things that don’t hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Will I ever get a song?”

I laugh, not ready to tell her how many of my latest songs are already about her. “Be a good girl, and maybe you’ll get an entire album.”

She drags her nails lightly over my skin, just enough to turn me insane. “So, I can’t be even a little bad?”