So, it’s been about a month and a half and between promos and post-production, and with Miranda’s work schedule, the closest I’ve been able to get to her has been about two dinners and a million phone calls. It’s driving me insane, and I keep waiting for her to say she’s just not interested, but so far, she seems happy to hear from me and works within our schedules to get together. I’m pretty amazed. Not sure how to take it all, to be honest.

“It’s called patience, dawg,” Brian tells me as we’re heading back from our meeting. “Stop reading into it. She’s got her life, you got yours. It sounds like, and I use the term loosely considering you, but it almost sounds like an adult relationship. Go figure!” He slaps me on the back before ducking away from my return playful blow to his stomach.

Nick walks by, his cell phone attached to his ear, and he’s not looking all that excited. “Must be talking to Pain in the Heiress,” I whisper to Brian, and he rolls his eyes in agreement. None of us can figure out why he’s still speaking to her. There’s therapy in Nick’s future, and it’s titled ‘Why I Date My Mother.’

“Well, look on the bright side, you got two weeks. Think that’ll be long enough to create some drama and ruin it all?” This time, he doesn’t get away before I can get him in a headlock.

Later, when I’m home and have wandered around the rooms for a while, I pick up the phone. She answers, sounding a bit breathless. “Did I interrupt something?” I ask, playfully.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” she answers without skipping a beat. “What’s new?”

“I have absolutely nothing to do,” I announce, finally making the realization as to why I’ve been roaming around my house. All she does is laugh in my ear. “No, really, they pushed everything back two weeks because of some production thing, and I’ve walked around here for at least an hour trying to figure out what to do and it just dawned on me that I have absolutely nothing to do!”

I know it’s not that funny, but I can’t keep from laughing. I don’t think I’ve ever wandered around my house trying to figure out something to do. Isn’t there always something to do? “Have you cleaned?”

“I have a house keeper,” he says, and I swear he sounds like that should follow with ‘duh!’

“Oh, sorry…” I chuckle. “I should have known!”

“What’re you doing?”

“Well, I don’t have a house keeper. Take a guess.”

“Oh, can’t that wait? Come play with me!”

“Tempting…but I can’t. You’re welcome to come hang out. It shouldn’t take that long.”

“You mean…you’re actually inviting me over? You’re going to divulge your address?”

“Keep it up, Bored-Boy and I’ll let you sit at home counting the fibers in your sheets.”

It’s been a few weeks, but so far, he’s either met me at the restaurant or at the hotel and we take separate cars. It’s not him I don’t trust, I just don’t trust, well, anybody, really. But I figure, if we’re going to get anywhere, he’s going to need to know where I live, right? I figured for sure he’d have gotten bored with my by now. I’m not the glamour and party type, but he keeps calling me anyway. He even keeps calling when I can’t meet him. That’s got to mean something, right?

So, I wasn’t kidding. I was planning on staying home this weekend and cleaning. It’s been a while, I’ve got dust bunnies I’m beginning to name, and this past week has been insane with renovations at the hotel. I just don’t have the energy to be out, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He might once he comes over and sees the real me – I mean, I’m not going to get all spiffy just to dust now, am I? Even if he is adorable and I have a crush on him, if this is going to go anywhere, he’ll see me au natural at some point.

Okay, I can at least put on some mascara…maybe some blush, right? And a clean tee shirt… Dear God, did I shave my legs recently?

Image? What image? What was that about au natural? Who was I kidding?

“Damn, no French maid’s outfit?” he laughs when I answer the door about an hour later. “And here I was expecting you to be cleaning!”

“Newsflash, dude, the only time someone wears a French maid’s outfit is when they’re role playing, pre-sex.”

I kiss him quickly as he steps inside and he hangs by the door, looking around. “Did you already clean?”

“You’re not looking close enough.” I take his hand and lead him further inside. “Look, over there is Esmeralda, the dust bunny.” I point near the corner and he nods, saying a polite hello . “So, welcome to Chez Miranda, home sweet home.” Such as it is…there’s not much to it, when you come right down to it. It’s just a little one bedroom bungalow, but it’s very 1940’s Greta Garbo movie-like, and I fell in love with its charm the second I walked in.

He looks around, turning slowly and seems impressed. “This is really nice!”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I tease with a smile, motioning for him to sit, but instead he takes my hand and pulls me in closer, kissing me warmly, and tacking on a quiet ‘hi’ when we’re done. His hand slides down my arm, and I just melt into his eyes. Alex has the warmest brown eyes I’ve ever seen, so gentle and honest.

“Hi,” I answer, kissing him quickly and touching his face. “You look good. Not like you’ve been on the road for a week.”

I lead him over to the couch and we settle in close. “You don’t look like you’re about to clean, either,” he tells me. “How’ve you been? How’s the renovation?” I groan at the mention of it and tell him about my week. Before I know it, we’re talking for two hours and the house isn’t going to get cleaned today after all, I guess. When I come back from getting us something to drink, he’s over by the mantle looking at some pictures. “Who’re they?”

“My friends,” I answer, handing him a pop and looking over his shoulder. “Good friends.”

“I’ll have to meet them sometime,” he says, placing the photo back.

“That would be an occasion,” I chuckle. “I haven’t seen them in a long time.”

“Why?”

“They’re in London these days,” I say, picking up the picture and smiling at it, suddenly missing them desperately. It has been too long…and it sucks. “They got the cushy International job. Hell, you probably stayed at their hotel a million times.”

“I stay at a lot of hotels,” he says, extending his hand towards me. “I’ve probably stayed at most of them at some point.”

“Then you might have walked right past them and never knew how special they were.” I smile and squeeze his hand. “Someday, I’ll introduce you. They always teased me that I’d find myself some hot LA stud.”

“And here you are, with some dork from Florida,” he jokes.

“Damn, if this is what dorks look like in Florida, I’m asking for a transfer!”

“What’s this noise?” Alex bellows from the living room. I stir the pasta and head to the doorway between the kitchen and living room to find him sitting on the floor in front of my entertainment center with my cd’s around him. He’s waving something, eyebrows lifted and looking expectant. “Well?” he asks.

“What? I can’t read it from here.”

“98 Degrees?” he says, pushing himself up from the floor. “I am in the presence of a 98 Degrees album?” he continues, making his way over to me.

“Mmm.” I just nod and turn back to the kitchen. “Hey, why don’t you put it on?” I’m instigating now, but he’s playing with me.

As I look over the pasta, he wraps his arms around my waist and buries his chin into the crook of my neck. “That’s not very nice,” he mumbles before kissing me.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion on my music selection,” I tell him, reaching around and pinching his waist playfully. “I told you, I like boybands.”

“Man-bands, baby!” he proclaims. “The others are boybands. We’re a man-band!”

“Yeah, yeah…now back up. The pasta’s done.”

Somehow I manage to work around him in my tiny kitchen and get food on the table. Before we start eating, he reaches over and squeezes my hand with a smile, which is really very sweet. He says so much without saying a word, you know? I get the feeling that all you ever have to do is look at him to know what he’s thinking. Well, when you’re alone with him. I would think it’s different if you were watching him on stage. He’s not acting now, is he? But I look over as he eats a mouthful of pasta, and he chews and winks at me, nodding happily. He’s not acting. No one is that good, right?

“You’re thinkin’ something,” he says after he swallows, putting his fork down.

I just shake my head. “Not really.”

“You’re thinking something, or you’d be eating,” he points out. “And it’s very good, by the way. So, what’re you thinking?”

“Just making sure I got everything…waiting to make sure it’s all edible.”

“And?” He picks up his fork for another bite.

“And?”

“And you were thinking…”

“You’re like a pit-bull, aren’t you?” I laugh, twirling my fork in my pasta. “Get a hold of something and don’t let go, huh?”

“Something like that,” he admits. “So?”

“I like your honesty,” I say, feeling myself blush. I don’t talk like this. This isn’t how you’re supposed to do it, is it? Aren’t you supposed to dance around your feelings? Not show emotions so soon? Don’t they get scared when you get too close?

All he does he look at me, a gentle smile crossing his face. “That’s good to know,” he answers. I take a bit of my dinner and look down at my plate feeling like an idiot and telling myself to back off in spite of feeling like the room is whirling past me in my thoughts. What am I doing? What the Hell am I doing? He’s mega-famous. He can have just about anyone he wants. Don’t go there, Andi. Stay away from there…casual, friendly, light, right? But I feel his hand close over mine and I look up to see him watching me carefully. “Is this the ‘what are we doing?’ silence?” he asks.

Back pedal…quick! Quick! “Oh, no!” I exclaim, maybe a bit too fast and furious.

He pulls his hand back and blinks at me with my tone, I suppose, collects himself and smiles at me and covers my hand with his again. “Uh, it’s okay if it is,” he says gently. “You’re not the only one wondering.”

I’m suddenly not hungry anymore and put my fork down, forcing myself to look at him. “What are you wondering?” I hate this ledge. I’m looking down into that foggy abyss below and so don’t want to take that leap.

“Just that,” he says plainly. “What are we doing? Because, and correct me if I’m wrong,” he says as he pushes his seat out a bit and turns to face me a little more, “I get the feeling that you kind of like me the way that I like you and neither one of us is pushing it because we don’t know…” He just shakes his head and looks at gives me a questioning look. “Am I totally wrong here?”

“No, you’re right on the mark, actually.”

He seems to breathe a little easier and smiles more comfortably. “Okay, good. That’s good to know.” He shifts his chair closer and leans in towards me. “Before this does go any further, I just have to say a few things.” Even if I’m dreading it, I can’t turn away. He’s watching me so intently, not breaking eye contact. “And I think it’s probably what you’re thinking. I’m in a group, and we’re getting ready for the big promotion push, and I’m going to be honest with you: there’s not going to be a whole hell of a lot of time to be the typical boyfriend.” I just blink at him, not sure what to say, but he continues. “I mean, I’m not going to always be around, or have time to do stuff like this,” he motions to the dinner going cold in front of us, “or hang out, or go to a movie or stuff like that. But if you let me, I can be really good at being a not-typical boyfriend. I can give you a lot of phone calls, maybe travel, sometimes a decent party or two. But it gets hectic, and I get really drained and really tired and it can get really selfish and me-me-me. But that’s just the God’s honest truth. There’s not a whole heck of a lot of privacy. There’s tabloids on occasion, but sometimes it’s amusing to see what I’m supposed to have been doing.”Hhe gives me a quick grin. “But, look, what I’m saying is, all those things you’ve probably already thought about are true, but it’s not always like that, and there’s times when I’ll be the typical boyfriend and be stupid, and play golf and watch TV and leave dishes in the sink. It’s just…”

“Complicated,” I finish for him, completely understanding what he’s trying to tell me. “And I’ve been forewarned. But so have you. I told you that I haven’t really done the dating thing for a while, and I’m probably gonna get freaked out once in a while on you.” He nods, totally serious and hearing what I’m telling him. I want to look down and see if my heart actually is beating on my sleeve, because that’s exactly what this feels like to me, and I’m not really saying much, am I?

“Just let me know when it’s too much or too fast or too…whatever. Just let me know,” he says again. “I think we’ve got a good shot here, though, don’t you? I mean, in spite of you having 98 Degrees in your music collection.” He winks at me and leans in just a little closer. “I just wanted to know if we had a direction to move in,” he says softly. “If I should keep coming around or…”

“Keep coming around,” I interrupt, giving him a small kiss.

Kristin answers the door and is already laughing. “Hey, Prince! Our guests are arriving!” she calls over her shoulder before kissing my cheek hello. I introduce Miranda, and Kris extends her hands warmly and welcomes her inside. “Sorry, the new Prince song is on and every time Prince is on...” She just shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

Kevin’s having all of us over for a barbecue and the premiere of the video on MTV. Miranda looks at Kristin and nods sympathetically as Kevin appears mimicking Prince with a quick turn and a bow. “I rest my case,” Kristin says and the girls laugh together. I breathe a little easier, although I’m not sure why. I’m not concerned about Miranda getting along with Kristin. She’ll get along fine with LeighAnne…

“Hey, Baby,” Kevin says to Miranda, kissing her cheek and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Good to see you again!” Don’t need to worry about her getting along with Kevin either, apparently. Kevin really likes her. I can already tell. She flirts with him, and he understands ‘flirt’ as a native language.

“Hang on your own woman,” I tease, taking Miranda’s hand and pulling her closer to me. She rests her head against my shoulder and I think she makes a face at Kevin because he cracks up.

“I have her all the time!” Kevin whines, kissing Kris’ cheek.

“How’s the fire, Kev?” Kris asks dryly, but playful.

“Oh, yeah! Fire!” He turns and starts out towards the back as the rest of us follow.

“He’s such a guy sometimes,” Kristin says with a shake of her head.

“Only sometimes?” I ask. “What is he other times?”

“The Artist Formerly Known as Kevin?” Miranda answers.

“So, you excited to see yourself on TV?” Howie asks me, starting up conversation again.

I chuckle and lift a shoulder. “I think I’m more nervous than excited,” I admit, “bit part that it is.”

“Speaking parts are worse,” LeighAnne drawls in a faint Southern accent. I never realized how thick their accents were until they were around each other.

“That’s why I’m not in the business,” I answer. “I think I’m better behind the scenes.”

“Nah,” Alex tells me, squeezing my shoulder, “you’re a pro.”

I laugh. “And you can tell by me walking across the room? You missed your calling then, Alex. You should be an agent.”

“In my next life,” he assures me, kissing my cheek quickly, and we get a chorus of ‘awww’s from the table.

Later, Kristin, LeighAnne, Leigh, Howie’s girlfriend, and I are clearing the mess in the kitchen. Kristin puts an arm around my shoulder and squeezes warmly. “We’ve decided we like you,” she giggles as I hand her another dirty plate.

It kind of catches me off guard, and I chuckle a little awkwardly. “Because I’m so good at handing you dirty dishes?”

“Because you handle dirty dishes!” LeighAnne corrects me. “Unlike some dates that have been brought by for barbecues with Nick… Oops.” She widens her eyes as if that was some kind of secret. I’m taking this all to mean that they’ve had the pleasure of meeting ‘Pain in the Heiress,’ aka Paris Hilton.

“She’s a little obnoxious, isn’t she?” Kristin says lowering her voice and glancing out the window.

“I’m glad it’s not just me,” Leigh answers with relief, handing some dishes over to her.

“Oh, heck no,” LeighAnne groans behind me, adding her plates to the counter. “We all just kept telling ourselves that she was temporary.”

“Didn’t work very well, but we tried,” Kristin adds.

“Which is why it’s such a pleasure to meet you,” Kristin says, placing her hand on my arm and squeezing, “we like you! I mean, look, you’re in here helping with the dishes. You’re regular people. You know how to laugh at yourself.”

“Oh, I’m much better when I laugh at other people,” I giggle.

“Aren’t we all?” Leigh laughs. “That’s why we’re in here and they’re out there.”

“They don’t know the secret handshake to get in?” I ask.

“Some handshake,” Kristin says, putting a plate into the dishwasher. “Dirty dishes and making coffee.”

“Let’s revolt!” Leigh chimes. “See how long it takes for it to get done if we don’t finish!”

“You think they’ll notice?” Kris asks. “Kev’ll come in here, ignore it all and just make the coffee.”

“Kevin?” LeighAnne gasps. “He’ll come in here, see the dishes and there will never be coffee.” Kristin pauses a moment and then nods in agreement. “Yeah, exactly. We’re just making sure there’s coffee to be had.”

“Yeah, we’re all gathered here at Kev’s for the premiere, Carson,” Alex says into the cell phone. “Pretty exciting!” He rolls his eyes at me and sticks his tongue out. “No, it was just filmed a few weeks ago out here in LA.”

Kevin drops down into the couch next to me and puts his arm across the back. “He’s gonna be talking awhile,” he tells me with a wink. “He’s great friends with Carson,” he says ironically and nudges Alex with his toe.

“I get the feeling you’re not very sincere about that, Mr. Richardson!”

“So, come on,” he continues, “you’re a little excited, aren’t you? Admit it. You can tell me.”

I look over my shoulder slyly and nod. “A little.”

“Thought so,” he laughs. “I think we all felt that way before our first video.”

“All those many years ago. You’re pros now, though, right? You’re not nervous in the least, are you?” He just tilts his head slightly. “Alex? Don’t forget to tell Carson that Kevin’s nervous.”

“You little…!” Kevin cackles, covering my mouth with his hand. Before it goes any further, Alex shoves the phone at Kevin and yanks me away with a loud cackle. “Hey, it’s Kevin…”

“He’s such a pro!” I laugh, watching Kevin ease into the conversation about the video.

“Hey,” Alex says, turning my chin to face him, “I was just being a pro, too.”

I just smile and kiss him gently. “Don’t worry, Baby, I still like you best.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he whispers in my ear before kissing me again. Why don’t I feel like an idiot? Normally, with people around, I’m not like this. I’m the one that usually groans and says ‘get a room’ but I don’t mind this. It’s sweet, isn’t it? I’m actually comfortable with Alex. Really comfortable with him. When did this happen? Come to think of it, when didn’t I feel comfortable with him?

LeighAnne’s on the phone checking up on the babysitter, Howie’s sitting easily with his arm around Leigh. I’m holding Miranda’s hand and Kris snuggles up next to Kevin, resting her head on his shoulder. Yeah, we’re old and boring, aren’t we? Settled down, relaxed…. Since when? I look over from watching TV and smile at Miranda. Is it possible to settle down and be this relaxed with someone I barely know? But it’s there…deep down in my gut. That’s the feeling you’re supposed to trust, isn’t it?

“So, I think it looked good,” Brian finally says…again…and smiles.

“Like you had any doubts?” Miranda asks, slapping his knee playfully. “I was in it to make you look good! What were you worried about?” She collapses into laughter against me, and I just want to hug her, wrap my arms around her and never let go.

“Told ya you looked amazing,” I tell her.

“It was your make-up artists, Baby,” she says, lifting her head up, but she’s beaming. Her eyes are bright and clear,and she’s beaming. “And luckily, you don’t really see me very clearly.”

“The Hell it was,” I tell her, kissing her, “and the Hell I don’t. I know it’s you.”

“I thought you looked great,” Leigh says, leaning over to smile at her.

“The whole thing was great,” Miranda says. “The curtains blowing around like that? I work in the coolest hotel in the world! And I missed the curtains by the pool! When’d that happen?”

“Oh, you don’t want to ask that question,” Kevin says, running his fingers through Kris’ hair lazily. “We don’t remember when or what…it just all magically gets done somehow. And they took forever trying to rig up the dang material to get it to look like that.”

“Yeah, to us, it’s ‘stand here and sing that line’ and we sing it over and over and over,” Howie says with an easy laugh. “But it worked out good this time.”

“This time?” Kristin asks. “When didn’t it?”

“The one you were in,” Nick says with a lift of his eyebrow. “The one we re-did because it was just too dang cheesy.”

“Oh, sure, pick on my video, why don’t you!” she laughs, tossing a throw pillow at him. “Just because she’s new you’re going to be nice?” she teases.

“Darlin’,” Kevin says, also giving Kris a serious look, “I love you dearly, but your video really was covered with Velveeta.”

“Oh, shush,” she pouts playfully and folds her arms. “I liked it. I thought it was cute.”

“Velveeta, and canned cheese,” I add with a laugh. “I love you too, but…no.”

“Yeah, give ‘em ten years, and they’ll say the same thing about this one,” she tells Miranda with a grin and a nod.

“So, what do you think?” Miranda asks when we’re heading to my car. “Will it be Velveeta and canned cheese in ten years?”

I unlock the doors and open hers for her. “I got news for you,” I start and wait until I’m sitting in the driver’s seat to continue, “Kevin can say Kris’ video is cheesy, but he loves it just as much as I’ll love this one, just because you’re in it.”

“I’ll bring the crackers then?” she suggests, letting me take her hand once we’re out of the drive way.

“So, where to now?” I ask. “Or do you need to get home?”

“I don’t have anything pressing to do.” She shrugs. “Any suggestions?” The thought of food makes me sick. One thing I can say for a barbecue at Kevin and Kristin’s, you definitely don’t leave hungry. It’s late, so a movie is out. I’m not really in the mood for a movie anyway. Not in the mood for a club either. I drive out of Kevin’s complex and sit at the driveway for a minute. “How about we just go back to your place?” she suggests. “You’ve seen where I live. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

As we head up the sidewalk, I make a mental list of the mess that might be waiting for me. Did I pick up my clothes? No. Are there dishes in the sink? Probably. Do I ever bother to put down the toilet seat? Hell no. When did the maid come last? What’s lurking in the bathroom that I need to warn her about? “I’m warning you now, it’s probably a mess.”

She smiles warmly. “It’s probably very bachelor-esque,” she says, already knowing. “It’s pretty amazing from the outside, though. I think my entire house can fit inside with rooms to spare.”

“Your entire house would fit in the entertainment room alone,” I tell her. “But it’s more tastefully decorated. I know nothing when it comes to decorating. I let my mom and my last girlfriend do it all. I just made sure there was state of the art equipment everywhere so I could be happy, and then I let them do what they wanted anywhere else.” I push open the door and let her step inside.

“Wow,” she says, pausing in the foyer and blinking.

“Is that a good ‘wow’ or a scared ‘wow?’”

“That’s a ‘this place is huge’ wow. And you live here alone?”

“I do now.” I take her hand and lead her inside. I’ve never really looked around since Sarah left, and it just dawns on me now that I haven’t. I shouldn’t feel uneasy showing Miranda my place, should I? It’s not like she doesn’t know there was someone before her, right? But somehow, suddenly, I see a lot of Sarah around me and don’t want Miranda to get the wrong impression.

She’s nice about it all, though, and seems enthusiastic about the entertainment room, and the bathrooms, playing with the stuffed animals found in some of the rooms. If she sees a lot of Sarah in here, she doesn’t let on if it bothers her, but suddenly, I want to redecorate. Start again.

Once the house tour is over, I take her out to the patio in the back and light the pool and some of the candles that have been sitting around in their holders for forever. The light flickers in the breeze a little, but it’s nice. I pick up one of the remotes and turn on the radio, low, before asking her if she wants something to drink, and now, I’m nervous.

“You haven’t entertained in a while, have you?” she asks, kicking off her shoes and curling up on one of the lounge chairs.

I light a cigarette behind the dry bar and take out some juice from the small fridge under the counter. “Why?”

“Because it’s either that, or you’re suddenly afraid of me,” she says seriously. “And I can’t imagine that you’d be afraid of me now.”

“Well,” I hesitate and bring over the drinks before heading back for the ashtray and my cigarette, “I think it might be a little of both. I don’t know why.”

She sits up a little and tilts her head, looking at me once I sit on the lounge chair next to her. “Well, Alex, remember what you said a few days ago? That conversation we had over dinner about things sometimes being a little complicated?”

I swallow heavily, feeling more nervous. “Yeah.”

“This doesn’t have to be,” she tells me with a gentle smile, reaching out for my hand. But why does it feel…I don’t know…awkward? Why am I suddenly nervous with her? Just a little while ago, I was content and relaxed with her! She puts her drink down, moves to sit next to me on the lounge chair and guides me over for a kiss. It’s slow and gentle, and I have to pull back and take a deep breath just looking at her.

I’m nervous because this isn’t just about sex. I know where this is headed tonight and it’s not about sex. I want to be with her, and I want it to be amazing, and I want it to be natural, and I don’t want to scare her, or do something that’s going to make her think of her ex, or make her feel uncomfortable, or do something wrong and I don’t know what to do to do any of that right.

“Alex?” she says, watching me closely.

I’m probably freaking her out and making her think I’m not interested in what’s happening here. I’m probably doing everything I don’t want to do, and I need to do or say something! Speak, man, speak! Say something!

Just as she’s about to pull back from me, I lean over and kiss her, moving closer to her. If I just concentrate on the kiss…just concentrate on how amazing it is to just be able to kiss her, and touch her hair. It’s about her, isn’t it? It’s all about me wanting to be with her and when I am, it feels like I’m falling into a light blue sky; soft and easy and warm… “I just don’t want to screw this up,” I tell her softly when I pull away from her. I slide my fingers through her hair and exhale deeply, admitting the fear. I really don’t want to screw this up.

She moves in just a little closer and lets her fingertips trace my beard and moustache for a minute with a slight smile on her lips. “Don’t think so hard about it,” she says quietly, “and it’ll be fine.”

For the record, I wasn’t even considering this when he picked me up tonight. Just, somewhere in between dinner and the video and the conversation afterwards, it dawned on me that I was going to spend the night with him. Okay, well, maybe it was in the back of my mind. I took tomorrow off under the pretense of thinking I’d be out late celebrating the video or something. But, maybe somewhere in my mind, I considered this is what would happen. I want it to happen, anyway. And now that he’s suddenly scared and nervous, I want it to happen more because I just know he’s going to be careful with me. I know his reputation. I waited this long because I was afraid he’d consider me just another bedmate, but now? No… I don’t know what he’s thinking, but this isn’t ‘hail the conquering hero.’ It’s not in his eyes, and everything is in his eyes. And he’s not making a joke, which is what he usually does when he wants to keep things from getting too serious.

“You can’t break me,” I say, still tracing his beard and touching his neck softly. He cracks a smile and closes his eyes when I run my fingers along the back of his neck. “Can you kiss me?”

He does, and I feel like I’m sinking into him, absorbed into him somehow as the world falls away around me. It’s just the touch of his fingers and taste of his mouth, and I don’t want to open my eyes and spoil it. I want to be surprised where he’ll touch next, how he’ll kiss me in the next instant. I love how solid his arms feel when they wrap around me and hold me so tight as if I’m going to disappear if he doesn’t hold on. I love the sound of his breath in my ear, the scratch of his beard on my cheek. I never felt this alive before. I never felt this many sensations with one single touch, a single kiss.

We’re not even kissing anymore. He’s watching my face while his hands slide along my torso, breaking the gaze just for a moment as he looks down to trace his path with his eyes. On his way back up, he slides his hands under my shirt and lifts it up over my head. It’s not cold. The breeze is actually warm against my skin, and he seems to stop and study me for a moment, watching me breathe before coming back for a deep kiss. We move closer; my legs wrap around his waist, and I want to feel him against me. I pull back from him and slide his tee shirt over his head and touch the firm muscles of his stomach and chest. Heat radiates from him, and we sink together against the lounge chair, lost again in deep kisses and slow, tender touches.

Eventually, our clothes end up on the patio and we barely move, lying together, slowly tracing each other’s shape with our fingertips and hands. I’m forcing myself to stay slow and not beg for him to enter me, but it’s getting difficult. I can barely breathe every time he slides a thumb over my nipples or lowers his mouth to one of them. Instead, I concentrate on how well my fingertips fit into the ridge of his spine, or the curve of his tight ass, or how solid his arms feel when I rub my hands over them…anything at this point to keep me from coming.

I think my moaning gives me away though because he shifts, lowering himself down my torso and fitting himself between my legs. If it’s possible to shed your skin with pleasure, I’d be doing it. Just the first flick of his tongue against me, and I want to scream with how good it feels to finally be touched. I cling onto his shoulder and the side of the lounge chair, reacting to the way his beard and moustache scratches against the delicate flesh, contrasting with his soft tongue as it presses against my clit. It’s not long before I’ve got my hand in his hair and am gasping for air as I come.

He makes his way back up my body, lingering on my belly and breasts before kissing me deeply. “You taste so good, Baby,” he whispers in my ear. “You’re so wet…so ready…”

Thank God he’s one of those ‘prepared’ guys and has a condom in his wallet because if he doesn’t enter me soon, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I need to feel him…I need him to fill me…I just need…something…or I’m going to lose my mind. I can’t even wait for him to lie over me. I take the condom from him and make him lie back so I can roll it on and straddle his hips. His eyes close slightly when I rub his tip across my pussy quickly and then slide his full length into me. We both gasp with the pleasure, and I pause a moment, just feeling how he fills me, but he’s losing his control. His hips move beneath me, and he’s breathing much faster now.

One of his hands cups my breast while the other rests on my waist, guiding my movement over him. At first it’s slow and steady, but soon, both hands are on my waist and he’s gasping for breath and mumbling, I think to me and himself, before his hips buck against me rigidly in his release. I drop down against his chest, listening to his heart pound in my ear, and close my eyes as his hands slowly run along my spine . I want to melt against him, just like this, full of him and just feeling alive and content.

Eventually we move apart, but he continues to touch and kiss me gently as we lie together, the breeze cooling us as we catch our breath. I rest my head in my hand and look down at him, sure that I’m grinning like a contented idiot because he looks at me and starts to giggle. He leans up and kisses me quickly, brushing my hair back to no avail. It’s a tangled mess at this point. “There’s no point,” I tell him with a slight shake of my head. “It’s going to do whatever it wants at this point.”

“It’s a little wild,” he teases, his eyes dancing beneath those long, dark lashes. “But sexy as hell. You’re sexy as hell. That was amazing.”

I finally feel like I can take a deep breath and exhale deeply, leaning down to kiss him. “And you were worried about screwing it up,” I tease. “I don’t think I’ve ever craved to be with anyone more than that…and I really hope you don’t have prying neighbors.”

“They can’t see anything,” he shakes his head, “at least, not from this angle. But they’re not deaf.” He pulls me back down against him, and I hear his chuckle rumble through his chest as his arms wrap around me tightly. I just close my eyes and breathe in deeply, not even caring if anyone’s heard us. Hell, I don’t even care if anyone was watching at this point. I just want to stay curled up in his arms, and listen to his heartbeat. The rest of the world can fall away. I think I’ve found paradise.

Oh, man, I’m gonna screw this up, aren’t I? Aren’t I? We’ve moved inside, and she’s on her belly, with the sheet to her waist, and she’s amazing. Isn’t she? She’s just lying there, and I’m amazed. Oh, man, I’m gonna screw this up. I don’t know how, or when, but it’s gonna happen, isn’t it? I’ve been trying to breathe since she’s fallen asleep. I think I managed to cover the panic while she was awake, but now she can’t see me. Now she can’t look at me like she does and know everything.

What if she wakes up and that’s it? What if I disappointed her? What if she’s disappointed in the morning? What if this is it? What if she’s ‘fucked the Backstreet Boy’ and she’s done? What if…I have to stop thinking. That’s all there is to it. Thinking – bad. Real bad. When she’s awake and we’re just…together…I don’t feel like this because I’m not thinking about it.

But tonight? How fucking amazing was tonight? And I’m not just talking about the sex. I’m talking about the whole night. She was fabulous at Kris and Kev’s: natural, calm, funny. It felt like we’ve all been friends forever. Yeah, she met us all at the hotel, but that was work, for her and us. This was different. This was just us being us, and we didn’t have to “behave” or anything – and it still worked.

And then being here. I don’t know how we got here. I honestly don’t. As soon as she suggested coming back here, I kind of knew we’d have sex, but not like that. Not so…damn, that was just fucking amazing. It went beyond sex, and it’s been a really long time since I’ve felt that close to anyone, felt so wanted. And it wasn’t because of my job. I’m sure of that. It was me she wanted, not the reputation or the connections or the money…me.

She rolls over, slipping her arm across my waist, and moves close next to me. I just watch her a minute, brushing her hair off her face and her eyes flutter open. “Mmm,” she grumbles at me and snuggles in closer. “Sleep.”

“I will,” I whisper quietly, running my hand down her back and kissing her forehead gently.

She turns to rest her back against me and slips her hand down my arm, bringing it up against her. “Why aren’t you sleeping now?” she asks with a groggy voice, kissing my knuckles.

“I kind of don’t want today to end.” I somehow manage to move closer against her and close my eyes. Maybe that is it. Maybe that’s why I’m not passed out asleep yet. I don’t want to wake up and have something happen that’s going to fuck this up. Right now, it’s perfect.

“But tomorrow can’t be better if today never ends,” she mumbles sleepily.

Does it get better than this? I don’t think so, but right now, maybe I just need to trust her. Right now, she’s in my arms, soft and warm and here. One day at a time and all that… Even if tomorrow isn’t better, I’ll never lose today, will I?