Page 57 of You Rock My World

DORIAN

We spend the next two days holed up in my bedroom, the world outside a distant memory.

Occasionally, we venture into the kitchen to forage for food, raiding the fridge like a pair of sleep-deprived college kids.

With most of my staff on leave for the holidays, the house is our own private sanctuary, giving Josie and me the extra privacy we crave.

The first morning she’s here, I send someone to retrieve her phone and shoes from her sister’s place and a change of clothes from her house—not that I’m letting her stay clothed for long.

We live in a perpetual state of sleeping in late, having each other for breakfast, and losing track of time in the best way.

We talk, we laugh, we make love.

I’ve officially lost my edge. Give it another week, and I’ll have Live, Laugh, Love monogrammed on my pillows. At the speed things are going my obituary will read, Here lies Dorian. He lived, he laughed, he loved. And Josie roasted him for it.

On the second morning, Josie attempts to cook—burns toast—then declares we should stick to our strengths, which for her means looking devastatingly cute in my shirt, and for me means reheating the gourmet frozen meals my chef stocked in the freezer.

We stay wrapped in this cocoon made only for two until, on Christmas morning, she stirs beside me, her bare legs tangling with mine underneath the sheets. The room is still dipped in that early-morning winter light.

Josie’s fingers brush my stomach as she sighs into the pillow. My lips curve into a smile before I even open my eyes.

“Morning,” I mumble, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Mmm. Merry Christmas.”

I shift on top of her, flicking my tongue over the hollow of her throat. “Got any Christmas wishes?”

“No, I already have everything I want.”

I swallow, my fingers pressing harder on her waist, my pulse drumming against hers. “You sure about that?”

Her nails drag along my shoulder, her breath warm against my mouth. “I don’t want to be greedy, but if you have something specific in mind, I can always be persuaded.”

“Oh, I’ve got lots of specifics in mind, love.” I kiss her deeply, unhurriedly, savoring every second like it’s a gift. There’s no rush, no urgency—just two people who finally have all the time in the world. I want her to feel how much I need her, how much I love her.

And I do. I make love to her slowly, tenderly, every touch and kiss a silent confession of my feelings.

Her soft gasps and the way she clings to me the answer to a love so profound, it scares me.

We move together. Breathe together. We give and take, we love each other until pleasure ricochets through us, leaving our bodies trembling and our minds dazed.

We collapse into each other, our skin slick and warm, our hearts pounding in a shared, chaotic beat.

For a long instant, we simply lie there, entwined and silent, basking in the afterglow.

I stroke her hair, kiss her forehead, and she nestles closer, her breathing calming.

An overwhelming sense of peace settles over me—an undeniable rightness, as if every fragment of my life has aligned to bring me here, to this perfect moment with her.

I might drift back to sleep—I’m not sure—but when Josie’s phone pings on the nightstand, it feels like a rude awakening.

She rolls over to check the notification, and I miss her warmth. I scoot closer, ready to convince her to drop the phone and love me some more. But when she leans against the headboard and pulls her knees up, worrying her lower lip as she reads the text, I panic.

Worst-case scenarios flash through my head.

Something terrible has happened. A new reason we can’t be together.

Lily is tired of the paparazzi camping out of her housing complex after videos of my serenade went viral.

Josie’s sister has reassured us they are no bother, and the excitement should die down soon.

But something could’ve changed. The attention becoming too much.

The press not leaving Penny alone. My mind spins through every catastrophic possibility as I watch Josie read, the glow of the screen casting shadows on her face.

She’s too still, too quiet, and it’s killing me. Not knowing is torture.

“What is it?” I ask.

Josie looks up at me, her frown immediately disappearing. “My agent. She wishes me happy holidays and asks if her Christmas present is that I’m Rian Phoenix’s mystery woman.”

My heartbeat slows down. “Oh?”

“She says that if I am, she’s going to put my book out for auction.” Josie winces as if discussing money with me is something she’d rather not do. “That publishers go nuts for celebrity books and with the attention we’re getting now, I can hope for a high-six-figure advance.”

“And you look so dejected about that why?”

“I don’t want to piggyback on your fame, or exploit who you are.”

“Josie.” I pull her into my lap, doing my best not to get distracted by her naked chest until the conversation is over. “You lost your job for me, your career. If my fame will help you launch a new one, I want you to go for it.”

“But—”

I press a finger to her lips. “Dating a celebrity has many downsides. I want you to also take the upsides. And, honestly, I’m just being selfish right now.”

She pouts adorably. “Selfish how?”

“If you can be a full-time author, it’s a job you can do from anywhere. You could come with me when I’m on tour, we could see the world together…”

“Ah.” Josie beams at me. “Your long-standing plan of turning me into a full-time groupie.”

I smirk, fingers tracing absent patterns over her bare thigh. “Groupie? No, love. I prefer the term ‘traveling muse.’ Much more poetic. You inspire, I perform, we make questionable decisions in every time zone.”

Josie laughs, tipping her head back and exposing her long throat. I have to grind my teeth not to bite her. “Questionable decisions, huh? Like what? Wearing matching leather jackets?”

“I was thinking more… sneaking you backstage, kissing you breathless against a dressing-room door, giving you a beard burn so fierce the entire world will know who I’m singing about.”

She presses a palm to my chest, pushing me back just enough to study my face with a serious frown that doesn’t match the teasing sparkle in her eyes.

“You realize that if I come on tour with you, you’ll have to focus on performing? That you can’t just spend your time keeping me entertained.”

“Well, my last tour just ended, so for the next couple of years, I’ll have nothing to do but keep you entertained, baby.”

Josie’s eyes smolder, turning molten, and it’s the last straw. I flip her onto the mattress, pinning her under me again, her phone tumbles off the bed—neither of us so much as looks at it.

Her hair fans out across the pillow like a halo, and her lips part in breathless anticipation. I lace our fingers together over her head, studying her face, her mouth, the rise and fall of her chest.

She wriggles under me, testing my hold as a sly smile curves her lips. “Dorian.” Her voice is a seductive challenge. “Are you going to just stare, or will you”—she sing-songs the next part— “love me now, love me loud?—”

I cut her off with a kiss, swallowing the last of her teasing words as my mouth claims hers—hot, insistent, and entirely without patience.

She meets me just as eagerly. Her hands are still blocked and the only way she can get closer is to arch her body into mine, torturing me with the soft press of her curves against me.

The heat between us is a living, growing thing, all-consuming.

I trail kisses down her jawline and her neck, taking my time, savoring the taste of her skin. She tilts her head to the side, offering me more, and I oblige, nipping and sucking, leaving a trail of red marks that will fade too fast. I want to be on her skin forever.

I drop one hand on her hips, holding her steady as I shift my weight and make love to her again until the only words left between us are whispered pleads and gasped names.

Because here, in her arms, is where the song ends—and where forever begins.