“I’ll do my best,” Bennett said without inflection.
“Bennett was telling me he closed the Waldsman merger,” Bea said.
“You did?” Grant asked. He couldn’t hide his shock. That merger had waffled around for over a year without progress.
Bennett shrugged. “I wasn’t only partying in Martha’s Vineyard. I also hobnobbed.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.”
“Really, son, you did good.”
Bennett grinned, and Grant wondered if his praise meant something.
The meal was stellar. The conversation, thanks to Bea, was invigorating and neutral. No mention of Jim, though part of Grant was dying to talk about nothing else now that the secret was out. The children left soon after the dessert course.
It gave Grant just enough time phone Jim before the start of his nightshift at the strip club.
“Hey.” Jim sounded robust, and Grant’s heart lifted.
In the background, Grant heard laughter and shouting.
“Are you having a party?”
“Oh, no. That’s Rory and Shannon. They’re playing one of those elf games.”
“Rory’s still there?”
“Yeah. You know, when you said you’d find a way to apologize, I didn’t think you meant matchmaking. Rory and Shannon are getting on like a house on fire. It’s great. I haven’t seen Shannon smile this much at another person ever, probably.”
For a horrifying moment, Grant remembered what Jim had said about Shannon’s sex drive and his mind applied that to Rory, who he never wanted to think about in that way. She was practically a daughter to him—at least she talked to him like one.
He quickly changed the subject. “Rory rejected all of my ideas. She said they were too extravagant. She said she’d choose. Please tell me she brought you something from me.”
“You gave me a tasteful can of Bustelo coffee and a twelve-count package of plain Hershey bars.”
“Oh God.” Despite his horror, Grant started laughing. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be! I love those things. I thought it was sweet.” Jim’s voice sounded warm.
“I told my children about us. Bea is pleased, and Bennett will warm up. I had to assure him I’m not giving you the company.”
“You’re not? Damn.” Jim laughed. Grant grinned too. He missed him so much after only a day.
“Oh. Well. Good. Say,” Grant added suddenly, before he lost his nerve, “would you like to go to Paris with me?”
“Uh. What?” Jim asked.
“I have a business trip in a few days. I know we said we’d take it slow, but I wondered if maybe you’d like to take it slow in the City of Lights?”
“Oh. Well… that’s generous, but I can’t.”
“I understand. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s not that. I mean, I would, but I don’t have any vacation time.”
“When will you?”
Jim snorted like Grant had said something funny. “Well, never. I don’t get vacation working part-time.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. But let me know when you’re back and bring me some of that chocolate.”
“Sure. I will. Jim, if there was a way for you to go with me, would you want to?”
“Yes. I’ve never been anywhere, and I’d love to have my first time to Europe be with you.”
Chapter Nine
“YOU CANNOT make a habit out of this,” Jim said as he picked his way through the aisle of Grant’s private jet. “I still can’t believe you bought the club so I could have a vacation.”
Grant, already seated with his feet up on the seat opposite him, raised his mimosa in Jim’s direction. “I rented the building for a week. If I’d bought the club, I wouldn’t be able to date you because I’d be your boss. I keep things aboveboard.”
“I see,” Jim groaned. “Shannon and everybody says thanks for the paid vacation, by the way.”
“They’re very welcome. Mimosa?”
“Sure.”
Jim sat down as Grant signaled to his flight attendant. She came immediately and smiled as she handed Jim a prepared flute.
“Thank you,” Jim said. He waited until she’d moved out of earshot before turning to Grant. “You didn’t have to do all this. I don’t want you paying my way.”
“This is how I live, Jim. I own the jet. The jet goes up in the sky, the jet lands, and in between, Chastity there brings me drinks and a meal prepared for me by my personal chef. You’re with me, so you’ll get these things, too, and you don’t need to feel obligated about them. You don’t need to feel guilty, but if you’d prefer not to eat or drink during this several hour flight, then don’t. I want you to have a good trip, whatever that means for you.”
“Well, now I feel like a toddler having a tantrum.”
Grant gave a slight smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to having my lifestyle second-guessed. I’d like to tell you it gets less extravagant from here, but—”
“Let me guess, the hotel will be rolling out the red carpet for us?” Jim chuckled when Grant abashedly shrugged. “Wow.”
“It is what it is,” Grant said. “I never knew this bothered you.”
“It doesn’t. I just, I mean… all the other times I’ve seen you have been after hours, I guess. I’m not used to seeing you served hand and foot.”
“I’m not served hand and foot.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do.”
Jim took a breath. “I thought I was doing something special for you. But now I see I’m just another person who you pay.”
Grant leaned forward and grabbed his hand. “You are special to me. Please believe me. I usually take these trips alone. As for what you do that I pay you for, the reason I feel the way I do about you is entirely separate, I promise. You’re not going to tell me you like me for my money, are you?” He added a carefree smile, but the slight shake in his tone told Jim that Grant had heard this before, and that his smile was more armor than honesty.
“I love how you treat other people.” Jim squeezed Grant’s hand. “You’re smart and you’re giving. You’ve never pushed me. You actually listen. You’re considerate, and when I’m with you, I feel cared for and important.”
Grant’s smile relaxed until he looked delighted. He gazed at Jim with intensity that made Jim feel torn between wanting to look away and wanting to lean closer.
Jim settled for turning his head but keeping his hold on Grant’s hand. “So it’s your turn. Why me?”
“You’re honest. You don’t make me feel used. You actually make me feel valued. I know that sounds like a strange thing to say. I’m so rich, how could I ever feel unworthy? But I do, all the time. People use me without even meaning to. Then there are the ones who take advantage over and over. Besides that, I like you, and I’m looking forward to spending time with you.” He hurried through the last sentence, like he wanted to get to the part about liking Jim before Jim could interrupt with a suggestion of how Bennett had been taking advantage of Grant.
“Me too.” Jim sipped his drink for a few minutes, working up the courage to ask what he really wanted to know. “Are you really okay with this? With me, being how I am.”
“Completely uninterested in my bod?”
Jim flushed and looked away. “I’m not uninterested. I just… from a distance, you know?”
“We’ll figure something out that works for both of us. The most important thing is your comfort.”
“Okay.” Jim studied his drink for a moment, working up his nerve. Grant wasn’t his first boyfriend-lover-whatever to say they’d work out something. Jim knew what that really meant. If he didn’t give Grant permission now, it would end up with Grant cheating and blaming Jim. Jim glanced up and steadied his resolve. “If you want an open relationship, it’s fine with me.”
Grant twisted his mouth. “I thought we were talking about us.”
“We are.”
“So why are you adding someone else in?”
“I’m just thinking about the future. Unless you think you’ll be satisfied with no sex forever.”
“I was satisfied with what we did the other day.”
Jim snorted. “That won’t last.”
“I can be creative.”
“Look, Grant, all I’m saying is if you want somebody on the side to fuck, I’m fine with it.”
“That’s funny, because you don’t sound fine. You sound angry. And I’m wondering why you’re angry at me, when you’re the one who suggested it, and I’m the one who thinks it’s a stupid idea.” Grant maintained his smile as he spoke, but his jaw twitched, betraying the effort of presentation.
“Because you’re going to want it! Everyone does,” Jim snapped.
“Everyone?”
“All the other….” Jim looked away. Immediately, Grant’s hand was on his.
“Oh. I see. You dated a bunch of assholes, and you’re trying to get ahead of it.”
Jim kept his head turned and nodded.
“I’m not like that.”
“So you say.”
“One of the advantages of being older… I know who I am. Jim, I promise, if I feel the need to have sex with another person or to touch someone’s body in a way that you don’t like, I’ll talk to you about it, and I’ll hire someone. Okay?”
“I… I’m not sure.”
“Am I being too practical?”
“I just didn’t expect this to be solved so quickly.”
Grant sat back, pulling his hand from Jim’s. “Solving problems is what I do. Speaking of, I need to review some documents before we land. I’m going straight into meetings.”
“You won’t get in trouble for bringing me on a work trip, will you?”
“I cleared everything with Harold.” Grant waved the concern away. “Anything involving you comes out of my pocket. So don’t worry. We are aboveboard. How’s your French? I’m afraid I’m leaving you alone to enjoy Paris without me for most of your stay.” He paused in opening his briefcase. “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”
“Sure,” Jim said, struggling to catch up with the dips, turns, and swerves of the last few seconds. “Look, I don’t see how you having someone on the side is any different from you having a prostitute, if you’re going to fall for them.”
“I don’t fall for employees,” Grant said absently.
Jim cleared his throat, causing Grant to look at him. A tight blush swept across his cheeks.
“You weren’t an employee. We were engaged in a mutually beneficial service. We had a cordial agreement.”
“So that makes me a business partner?” Jim ventured.
Grant beamed. “Exactly!”
“How romantic.”
Grant motioned to Chastity. “Bring out the big guns.”
“Coming, sir,” she chirped, and a moment later stood beside Jim with an envelope.
Jim removed it from her tray. “Thank you.” He looked at Grant. “Big guns?”
“Open it.”
Jim did. He glanced at the contents, thumbing through them quickly, then back to Grant. “Is this—?”
“All-access passes to every art museum in Paris. I’ve arranged an English-language guide for you at each. You only have to show up. I’ve also arranged credits for you at nearby cafes, and there’s a travel card in there too.”
Jim held up the envelope. His face shone with wonder. “This is too much. I said I didn’t want you to pay for anything.”
“I want you to get the best out of this trip. I restrained myself from hiring you a driver. Please, let me do this for you. You’re going to love Paris, Jim.”
Jim pulled everything out of the envelope, fanning the passes out in his hands. “How can I repay you for this?”
Grant shrugged. “Just be you. Here.” He tossed a Parisian art magazine into Jim’s lap. “Thought this might get you amped up for all your art.”
“Thanks. But I am going to pay you back somehow.” Grinning, Jim put the passes into his bag and settled in to read the magazine.
“I’ll look forward to it,” Grant said with a smile, as he returned his attention to his work.
THE SUITE was Grant’s usual, not that he had any time to enjoy it before racing out to his first meeting. He left Jim with a hurried bit of advice on navigating Paris and a cell phone preloaded with every contact number he could possibly need. He’d tried to add his credit card as well, but Jim had been adamant that doing so would cross a line.
He spent the day first with the head of a media company he was thinking about buying, then with one that Jessup Enterprises was in final negotiations with about buying, and finally one they had bought. When he returned to the suite at eleven in the evening, he had a wine headache and his throat burned from acid reflux. He briefly debated the wisdom of taking one of his pills on top of the wine. He glanced around the room. There was something different about it, but he couldn’t place what.
Normally, Grant used the suite’s second bedroom as an office, but this time he figured Jim would use it. Dropping his briefcase on the coffee table in the living room, he was disappointed to see its door standing open. Evidently Jim hadn’t come home yet. Well, what had he expected? Jim was a young man, and he deserved a taste of Parisian nightlife. Glancing toward his own room, Grant experienced a longing for his bed that he’d rarely felt at Jim’s age. He carefully removed his suit jacket and stepped into his bedroom, intending to hang it in the closet.
Instead, he felt two large hands on his upper arms, stilling him completely. “Keep your clothes on,” Jim murmured, somehow making it the sexiest thing Grant had ever heard.
Grant didn’t have a chance to respond to the way the order made him go warm before Jim’s mouth pressed to his, and he was captured in a kiss that was both commanding and passionate. Grant had just tried to add his tongue into the mix when Jim pulled back and, still holding Grant, guided him into an armchair that he now realized was the thing missing from the living room.
“Don’t move.”
Grant had no intention of moving as Jim backed away.
“What’s going on?”
Jim pressed his finger to his lips. “Payback. Just trying something to see if it works for both of us.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped it. Grant had a split second to appreciate Jim’s tight T-shirt and blue jeans before “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga started playing.
“Does this song choice have any relevance to our—” Grant stopped talking when Jim launched himself forward in an aerial somersault and landed upside down on the bed with his legs splayed. Grant swallowed. He wondered if Jim’s command not to move included his hands because…. He glanced down at his crotch and shifted in the chair but kept his hands on the chair’s arms. On the bed, Jim flipped over, onto his knees, and stretched toward the ceiling, causing his shirt to pull up and reveal a sliver of tanned skin and a hint of brunet treasure trail. Grant realized he’d stopped breathing. Then Jim looked right at him and popped the button on his jeans. He eased the zipper down as Grant watched, certain that his face was giving away his every thought.
Jim smirked, and as Gaga went into her chorus, he twisted and dived and landed on his stomach, facing away from Grant, thus giving Grant the perfect view of his ass and spread knees as he humped the bed in time with the music.
Even biting his lip couldn’t stop the groan coming out. He squeezed the chair tighter. Jim, meanwhile, rolled onto his back, stuck his legs in the air in a V-shape, and thrust his hand down to cup his groin. Grant’s cock strained against his underwear. Grant frantically calculated the cost of disobeying Jim (and possibly causing him to stop) versus the potential embarrassment of handing cum-soaked clothes over to be laundered. Then Jim planted his feet on the bed and stood up on the mattress like it was nothing. He stripped his shirt off and stepped off the bed. He tossed the shirt aside as he stalked toward Grant.
Grant lifted his hands, moving reverently towa
rd Jim’s chest, but Jim grabbed them with practiced ease and returned them to the armchair.
“No touching.”
Grant’s protest disappeared when Jim straddled the chair, arms and all, and buried his face in Grant’s neck. Grant closed his eyes. Jim’s hair brushed his cheek, his breath landed warm in the ticklish skin of his neck, his shoulders and chest bumped Grant’s as he moved, and the soft denim of his jeans felt both too heavy and not enough as Jim’s thighs pressed down on Grant’s forearms.
“Please, I need—” Grant gasped.
“If you touch me, I’ll stop,” Jim said sweetly, but it cut through Grant like an actual command. His chest tightened with need. He was certain Jim could sense his cock, even though Jim’s ass hovered inches above it.
“You’re trying to kill me. I’m an old man.”
“Well then, I really shouldn’t do this.”
“Do wha—?” Everything in Grant stopped as Jim leaned back, balancing himself now with one hand on Grant’s knee. He reached into his open jeans and pulled his cock out. To Grant’s surprise, it was hard. He hadn’t expected Jim to get aroused from this, given how often he must have done similar performances professionally. Grant could only watch openmouthed and needy as Jim pulled at his dick with abusive force.
Jim gritted out, “Lift your shirt.”
The first drops of come had already landed before Grant’s brain caught up and he hurriedly moved it out of the way. The rest splattered on his stomach. Jim grinned and slid down to the floor, not once touching Grant’s cock.
“Good night,” he said cheerily and got up. He grabbed his T-shirt from the floor and walked out of the room.
Grant yanked his pants open and came so hard that some of it landed on the bed.
JIM RUBBED his cheek where Grant had kissed him at breakfast. He was glad his striptease had pleased Grant. Jim hadn’t expected to get turned on by it, too, but the pure, open way Grant watched him had been so similar to Jim’s fantasies that his body had responded. Between last night and the Narcissus fantasy role play, Jim was starting to realize he liked it when Grant watched.
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