Man in Love
Page 23
Not that all there was between us was sex. I’d always been attracted to her ideas. One of my favorite things to do was listen to her talk about the things she was passionate about, and there were so many, especially now that she had a significant role at Conscience Connect.
But it wasn’t just the big issues that drew out her fervor. Since she’d moved in with me six months before, after Teyana officially moved in with Kendra, I’d discovered just how much of the world excited Tess, and it was basically all of it. From Netflix shows to snowfalls to brands of toothpaste, my woman loved life.
And I loved her. A little more with every breath I took.
“I can’t believe we get to spend our one-year anniversary in the same place we met,” she said as we approached the first big silo. “Or almost one year.”
The official day was tomorrow. Close enough, as far as I was concerned. “I know. That’s why I convinced Brett to have the party here.”
“You convinced Brett,” she said, rightly suspicious.
“Totally.” More accurately, he’d said the rooftop bar was their first choice for the engagement announcement, and I’d enthusiastically supported it.
If he hadn’t, I would have dragged her out here on the official day, but there was something magical about being here tonight with the party in the background. Somewhat romantic too, in a perverted sort of way, considering Brett’s intended bride.
Only Tess would appreciate that fact. Brett, if he knew, probably not so much.
We rounded the silo, and Tess let go of my hand, rushing ahead to the wall that framed the smokestack. “Right here,” she said, bracing her back against the brick. “You were right here when I first saw you.”
“Really? And what was I doing?” I didn’t need to be reminded, but it was fun to let her remind me.
She smirked. “I’m not going to say it. You know.”
I stalked toward her. “Do I?”
“You do. And you were such an asshole to Eden while you were doing it, might I add. I remember thinking, if he was so willing to do that—”
“Do what?” I insisted, wanting to hear the words from her dirty little mouth.
“Finger-fuck her, okay? If you were willing to finger-fuck a girl you obviously weren’t into, giving her what seemed like a pretty decent orgasm, from my vantage point—”
“Only one? You must have shown up later than I realized.”
She leveled a stare at me. “I remember wondering if you treated a girl you didn’t like that well, how well would you treat a girl you loved?”
“Hmm. Interesting question.” With one hand braced on the wall behind her, partially caging her in, I traced her lips with my finger, then stuck it in the whole way when they parted, silently urging her to get it wet. Teasing her, I drew a jagged trail down her neck with that wet finger, stopping at the neck of her dress where the top of her breasts taunted me. “Why don’t I show you?”
“Show me what?” Her eyes were already glossy with desire.
“Show you how well I’d treat a girl I loved.”
“Mmhmm.” She nodded encouragingly. “Yeah, you should totally do that.”
I couldn’t have set the stage better than if I’d planned it.
I slunk down her body, nipping at a nipple on my way, until I was down on my knees, eye-level with her pretty pussy—hidden behind her gold skirt, but familiar enough that I could picture it perfectly without having to see it.
She spread her legs apart, inviting me in, and unable to help myself, I gathered her dress up at her waist and placed a naughty kiss on the panty-clad V between her thighs. She moaned, and God it was torture to pull away with my dick as hard as it was, but when she closed her eyes, I released her, propped up one foot, and dug into my jacket pocket so that when she opened them again to find out why I’d stopped, what she’d see was me.
On my knee.
Holding out a ring.
“Uh, what?” The daze of lust morphed into a daze of surprise.
“The way I’d treat a girl I loved would be to cherish her, protect her, support her, laugh with her, cry with her, fuck her—a lot of fucking her—make babies with her, keep her forever. Choose her forever. Terese Turani, I love you. Will you choose me again? Forever this time?”
It usually destroyed me to see her anywhere near tears. Generally, the minute her eyes got watery, I was on my knees ready to do anything and everything to make her better.
This time I was already on my knees, and her tears killed me in a different way. Like my emotions were too big for my body and there was no way I could fit how much I loved her inside of me. Like I’d need a lifetime to figure out how to carry that much love.
Hopefully, she’d give it to me.
I wasn’t sure based on her response. Besides the tears, she had yet to say yes. “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she whimpered, which didn’t seem promising. “I didn’t put on waterproof mascara. This is really not fair.”
“Okay, but baby? I’m on my knee here.” Taking her hand, I slid the ring on her finger, a dazzling blue diamond solitaire—not too large or “gaudy” per Teyana’s orders—in a platinum pavé setting. It looked fucking gorgeous on her, and now that I’d slipped it on, there was no way I was ever letting her take it off.
Her tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Your parents are going to freak out.”
They would, but I rarely interacted with them anymore. I had enough family without them—my siblings, my cousins, Grandpa Irving. Tess.
“Freaking them out is an added benefit.” I brought her hand to my lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Your mother, on the other hand, will be thrilled.”
“She’ll be thrilled when she has a grandbaby. No sooner.”
“Does this mean you’re saying yes?” She was killing me, and not just because the ground was hard on my kneecap.
“Yes, you silly man. I will marry you. I will choose you forever. I’ve already chosen you forever. Nothing would make me happier than making it official.”
“Nothing makes me happier than you.”
I was half a second from jumping up to kiss the shit out of her, but before I could, she sat on my knee, wrapped her arms around my neck, and kissed the shit out of me instead.
And I could see our whole future together in that kiss—a lifetime of best moments and surprises and sacrifices and blessings. A lifetime with the woman who made me want to be a better person. A lifetime with the woman who made me a better man.
I could keep kissing her like this for a lifetime.
Apparently, she had other thoughts in mind. “Does this mean you aren’t going to lick my pussy? Because I was led to believe that you were, and while a ring is nice and all…”
“I’ll consider it. Can we pretend we’re being watched while I do it?”
“By a hot woman trying to find service for her phone?”
“A smoking hot woman, definitely.”
“You better make me mewl like a kitten so she’ll have a reason to come looking for us.”
“Oh, I can make you mewl all right.”
“So that’s a yes?” She stood up in anticipation of my answer, gathering her skirt up herself and bracing her back against the fireplace like she had before.
God, yes. Forever yes.
But I answered with my mouth, not with words, devouring her pretty pussy, licking her while she trembled, torturing her until she cried out her release loud enough for our fictional onlooker, showing her exactly the way this man treats the woman he loves.
Want to know more about Brett and his bride? Find out in the next book in the Sebastian World: Man for Me
* * *
Brett Sebastian is the very best kind of friend.
Who else would get me a job at one of the biggest corporations in America?
And hook me up with his uber-rich cousin to boot?
And let me cry on his shoulder every time said cousin blows me off?
Okay, it’s pretty obvious that Brett cares
about me in a different way than I do for him, but he seems fine with how things are, and our friendship works.
Until one fateful night when I'm mooning over his cousin, and Brett utters four words that should make me happy for him, should make me relieved, should balance out our uneven relationship:
"I met a girl."
Suddenly my world is crashing down around me, and I’m forced to ask myself—am I only interested in Brett now that he’s taken?
Or have I been looking at the wrong man all along?
* * *
Get Man for Me here.
Author’s Note and Acknowledgments
In early 2019, my friend Lauren Blakely and I were chatting about our favorite romantic comedies of the past, and I shared with her that I’d love to one day do a retelling of Working Girl because that movie was fun and inspiring and Harrison Ford (yum). As all good friends do, she encouraged me, and despite having other things I was supposed to be thinking about, I spent the next couple of days imagining my version and daydreaming it in my spare time.
But even after I had images chosen for the covers and titles picked out, I insisted I didn’t have the time. I was just starting the Slay quartet and after those four there were another five books lined up to be written after, and since I’m not a relatively speedy writer, that was a good three years’ worth of releases. I really didn’t have the time in my schedule.
Then Lauren reminded me that I worked for myself, and therefore I was the one who made my schedule.
I wasn’t won over by that reminder right away (but my fans are waiting for Cade! but I have that other series I want to start! but, but, but, but, but), but after I finished the brutal writing of Slay and Australia was on fire and a world pandemic hit and so many people were sick and dying, I needed to put Man in Charge in my lineup. Because I needed to not write another brutal story right now. I needed to write something fun and light and happy.
Not that, as my editor Erica Russikoff says, a duet about social status, a debilitating disease, and ethnic prejudice can accurately be called “light.” Perhaps a better word is easier. Easier because the basic story already existed and a lot of the elements that I added didn’t have to be researched or thought up because they were elements from my own life. I am half Iranian. I am estranged from my father. I have a master’s degree from a university that cost thousands in student loans, and while I and many of my peers thought a fancy degree could write us our own ticket, we soon discovered that life isn’t that easy. Not when you are the wrong gender and have the wrong skin color and don’t know the right people. It’s depressing how many well-educated people can only find work at places like McDonald’s. I once worked at a movie theater where the lead guy on the cleaning crew had a medical degree from India. The struggle is real.
As for the debilitating disease, I also have personal experience there. My oldest daughter (a girl with a genius IQ and an ambitious passion for learning) has POTS, and saying that her illness has changed our lives and the potential for her own life is an understatement. Like Tess, I have felt all the complicated feelings that come with having a disabled person in my life. Of course, the worst part is seeing a loved one suffer, but there are other more selfish bad parts. It’s frustrating when our plans have to change because my daughter is feeling POTSie. It’s hard not to be resentful sometimes. It’s hard not to get lost in pitying myself (and her). It’s hard not to feel like I have to make up for those shallow feelings by, you know, writing her illness into my book and making people more aware, even though that changes nothing in our home life.
As I said before, the struggle is real.
None of these things I’ve mentioned here are parts of my life that have been easy, but as I do now and always have used my writing as therapy, it was easy to put these things into my story. It was easy to decide not to care if these scraps of my history made for good entertainment. It was easy to choose to write this duet for me rather than an audience.
Which doesn’t mean that I don’t hope that you enjoyed it because I very much do.
It also doesn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy writing it because I very much did. I especially liked being able to address issues in the original source material that are bothersome and dated such as the notion that just being a man was all it took to pave a way to the top (there’s even a hierarchy within the patriarchy). Another bothersome piece of Working Girl is the portrayal of the secondary headstrong female character as a villain. Really? Do we have to make every successful woman a bitch? I didn’t think we had to, and after working in an industry with many, many successful, headstrong women, who are also compassionate and supportive and givers of time and money and energy, I wanted to make sure Kendra didn’t come off as a one-dimensional bad guy (gal). I hope those layers are apparent.
And I hope this not-light, spattered-with-bits-of-my-biography retelling gave you something you were looking for when you picked up book one, even if it was just a few hours of swooning. I hope that you’ll forgive me for having to wait the extra months for Cade’s story (the final Dirty Universe trilogy). I hope that you set this finished book down with a smile on your face because you were able to forget for a few hours about the world and the struggle and the fires and the not-so-fair parts of your own life.
* * *
As personally therapeutic as this duet was, there are still many people who I owe thanks for its existence, and I’d like to acknowledge those people now:
To Lauren Blakely (of course) for insisting.
To Melissa Gaston, Candi Kane, Roxie Madar, and Kayti McGee for being my support system and my orphanage and all the All that you are to me.
To Liz Berry, Rebecca Friedman, Christine Reiss, and Jana Aston and all the Shop Talkers for being successful, headstrong women that I admire.
To Amy Vox Libris for smoothing out the rough edges. To Erica Russikoff and Kim Ruiz and Michele Ficht for making the state of my words less embarrassing. To Alyssa Garcia for making the words look pretty in written form.
To the LARCs, who I don’t thank personally enough (mia culpa, mia culpa).
To The Sky Launchers and all my readers who continue to support the things I write, as unbelievable as that always will be to me.
To my household of crazy (amazing, brilliant, funny, smart) women and my sweet, loving dear husband for holding his own in our midst.
To Open Cathedral for being a community away from my community.
To my God—and yes, I will always mention Him here—the acknowledgments is my space, so if you are anti-religious and don’t want to hear it, don’t come here <3—for giving me the hardships and the struggles, knowing that kindle is necessary to start a fire.
The Dirty Universe Continues…
The epic final trilogy in the Dirty Universe is coming soon!
* * *
Are you ready for Wild Rebel?
* * *
We were supposed to run away after high school.
When she didn’t show up at our meeting place, I gathered my courage and went after her.
It was a mistake.
I left bloodied and bruised.
My heart didn’t fair half as well.
* * *
I had no choice but to walk away.
* * *
Years passed. A decade. More.
I traveled, settled halfway around the world, made myself a name and enough money that I didn’t have to look back.
But I never got over her.
And when my memories got the best of me, I went looking. Put all my effort behind the search.
Even the best of the best private eyes couldn’t find the woman I’d deeply loved.
* * *
Then, out of the blue, she calls.
* * *
And, what she asks for, the favor that she wants?
I never thought I'd be willing to take a life.
But the truth is, and always has been: I'd do anything for her.
* * *
Don’t miss Wild Rebel!
And don’t miss my other dirty men:
* * *
Dirty Duet - Donovan Kincaid
Dirty Filthy Rich Boys - Read for FREE
Dirty Filthy Rich Men
Dirty Filthy Rich Love
* * *
Dirty Games Duet - Weston King
Dirty Sexy Bastard - a free prequel to the Dirty Games Duet
Dirty Sexy Player
Dirty Sexy Games
* * *
Dirty Filthy Fix - Nate Sinclair
* * *
Dirty Sweet Duet - Dylan Locke
Sweet Liar
Sweet Fate
Also by Laurelin Paige
Visit my website for a more detailed reading order.
* * *
Man in Charge Duet
Man in Charge
Man in Love
Man for Me
The Dirty Universe
Dirty Filthy Rich Boys - READ FREE
Dirty Duet (Donovan Kincaid): Dirty Filthy Rich Men | Dirty Filthy Rich Love
Dirty Games Duet (Weston King): Dirty Sexy Player | Dirty Sexy Games
Dirty Sweet Duet (Dylan Locke): Sweet Liar | Sweet Fate
(Nate Sinclair) Dirty Filthy Fix (a spinoff novella)