T-Bone’s eyes light up, and he opens and closes his mouth. Then, to my horror, he opens his arms wide and slams me into a teddy bear hug. His belly smashes into mine, and he grips me so tight I can barely breathe. He practically screams into my ear so loudly I worry he’ll bust my eardrum. “Fantastic! Perfect for the show! Let’s do it!”
“Great. I’ll talk to Martina, the coach, and get them working on the poses. Do you have the lingerie ready for each woman? I’d like to do a practice run in the outfits, so they get more comfortable. Also, we need the pants for the partners of six of the women.”
“Sì, sì, sì!” he answers in Italian. “Right away. I shall have my assistant deliver what is needed, though I’m still working on some of the pants.”
“Sounds like you have a lot to do and only two more days before the show on Saturday.”
“This is true. Which means you must leave me to it.” He flicks a hand over his head as if he’s swatting a fly before removing himself from the conversation.
“I’ll go chat with Anna-Maria about the lingerie.”
I leave his work space and head to the ballet studio, trying to focus on the upcoming show, but all I can think about is flying to New York on Sunday to see Skyler. The FaceTime sex was a blast and a half, but I need to touch her, listen to her laugh, share a meal with her. I know it’s only been a few days since she was at my place, spending time with me and my family, but I want more. And it’s the first time in a long time I’ve really wanted more from a woman. I want to know everything about Skyler, but I want to know it from the source, not from reading it online in a smut mag filled with half-truths.
I press the button on my phone to call my girl and see if I can catch her before she leaves for work. With the time difference, it’s nine a.m. there.
She picks up on the first ring. “Pretty boy.” Her voice is breathy and seductive.
I grin, loving her voice in my ear. I’d prefer a whisper when she’s over my body, naked and sated after a round of our epic sexcapades, but I’ll take this too. For now.
“Good morning, Peaches.”
“Good afternoon to you, right?”
“Yep. You at home or on set?”
She groans. “On set. Been here since six. I’m getting fitted for this full-body suit that records my movements. Then I’m going head-to-head with the bad guy while the computers record everything. Then they can add all kinds of special effects.”
“That sounds ridiculously cool.”
“It is, but weird because I’m doing it all in front of a green screen. It’s easier to act out things when it’s more organic. You know, outside in the elements or on a full set. I don’t like the green screen, but it’s a good challenge for my acting abilities.”
“Which I know for a fact are on point!” I compliment her, wanting her to know how I see her abilities.
She laughs, and it’s music to my ears. “You’re my boyfriend; you have to say that.” Her tone is conspiratorial, but I can tell by the inflection on the word boyfriend that she likes saying the word in reference to me. Hell, I like hearing it from her too.
“Sure, but it’s easier to say when it’s true. And I mean it, baby. You’re killing it. And I can’t wait to see it live. I was telling Sophie about it last night at dinner . . .”
“What?” Skyler cuts me off, a sharpness to her voice that wasn’t there before. “Sophie’s in Italy? I thought she was in France?”
“Well, yeah, but she’s attending the fashion show and a few others while on business here. Had dinner with her last night—”
I was about to add with Bo, but she cut me off.
“I can’t believe this! The second I leave, you’re off having dinner with Sophie! The woman you told I was a bit of fun, essentially a fuck buddy.”
“Excuse me. I have never once, not ever, inferred or referred to you as my fuck buddy. And I have no idea what you’re talking about, so please, if you will, enlighten me regarding what’s got you pissed off all of a sudden.”
She groans loudly into the phone. “In Copenhagen on the last day, you told Sophie you were not in a relationship with me, nor were you ready for one, and we were just fucking. Having fun.”
I think back to the conversation with Sophie in the hotel room. It’s hazy at best because I’d been awakened from a dead sleep. It was crack-of-dawn thirty in the morning, and I was itching to get back to Skyler, warm and snuggled up in the bed I’d just vacated. At the time, I’d have said anything to get Sophie to leave so I could get back to my girl.
“Sky . . . you misunderstood. At the time, if you remember, we were still considering what we had as casual. I wasn’t about to go into full detail with Sophie about our budding relationship. And yes, even then I was fighting the term relationship because it’s a foreign concept to me, and the last time I’d been in one was a complete and utter failure. A fucking disaster!” I growl, clenching my teeth hard.
“Oh really? I wouldn’t know, because you’ve never told me about your past.”
“And I’m not sure the time is now either . . .” The skin at the back of my neck tingles, and my clothing is suddenly hot as hell.
“I beg to differ. I’ve told the team I need thirty minutes. Spill, pretty boy.”
“Sky . . . ,” I warn, but she doesn’t heed the edginess in my tone.
“You told your girlfriend you were at dinner with another woman, a woman you were fucking right before me. A woman you say you are great friends with. How am I to trust that you are only friends if you can’t tell me what’s going on with you? I need to know how you tick, Parker, or I’m never going to be able to trust what we have. I told you about Johan. What happened in your past to make you unable to commit to a woman?”
“I’ve committed to you. What does it matter what came before?” I grit my teeth and hold the phone closer to my ear. The traffic outside is making it hard to hear as I walk back toward the ballet studio.
“Parker, who hurt you?”
I close my eyes and lean against one of the buildings. The sun shines down on me, warming my body from the outside the way Skyler’s whispered request is warming the inside. I’d rather have this conversation with her in private and in person, but I’m finding a lot of our relationship will be via phone. It’s the nature of our businesses. I should count my lucky stars I have a woman who wants to be with me even though I’m gone more than half the time.
“Her name was Kayla McCormick. We met in college. Dated her, asked her to marry me right off.”
Skyler gasps, and it sounds overly loud in my ear.
I swallow down the disgusting taste in my mouth that thoughts of Kayla always bring. “Bo and Royce hated her, though they put up with her for me. I was blinded by what I thought was love. In the end, I think I was in love with the idea of her. She was beautiful. Smart. And she seemed to dote on me. Turns out she doted a lot on my ex–best friend too. Caught him banging the hell out of her one day. I had no idea she was cheating. So I lost a best friend and my fiancée along with my trust of the opposite sex. Now I’m starting to want what I gave up that day. And I want it with you.”
“Honey . . .” Her soft tone pierces right through my chest and squeezes my heart.
“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that one word come from your lips. Skyler, please don’t be jealous of Sophie. She’s the only female friend I have besides Wendy, and I like her in that role. She hasn’t made one move on me. And dinner last night was shared with Bo too. I swear Sophie and I ended any sexual relationship we had back in Paris. We’re never going there again.”
“It’s so hard. She’s beautiful and funny and . . . and French, which is exotic! I can’t help but feel threatened by her.” I can hear the insecurity lacing her words, and I wish I could be there to hold her.
“Skyler . . . Peaches, you are the most sought-after actress—hell, celebrity—in the entire world. Everyone wants a piece of you. Especially Rick the Prick.”
She sighs, and it hurts my heart.
“What if we both agree we’re going to stop being jealous of Sophie and Rick?”
I smile and lift off the wall and continue to walk. “I think I can agree to that. I don’t want you jealous of Sophie, but I absolutely cannot be in a position to choose between the two of you. Because I won’t choose either of you. It’s not right. People come into our lives for a reason. She’s been a great help to me and a good friend.”
“I know. And she gave me no reason to believe otherwise when we spent time together in Copenhagen. I . . . we’re new, and it’s hard being apart when you’re new.”
“Yes, it is. But I’m going to be there Sunday night.”
“I can’t wait.” She speaks with a hint of need I can easily relate to.
“Me either. And I’ll promise to tame my jealousy toward Rick the Prick too.”
“Can you start by not referring to him as Rick the Prick?” she deadpans, and I’m not sure if she’s being funny or serious. Probably a little of both.
“Eh . . . that I can’t commit to.” I laugh.
Skyler chuckles. “Fine. Just don’t ever let him hear you say that.”
“One last thing, which might make you feel even better about Sophie?”
“Yeah?”
“She’s seeing a man back in Paris. So far, she’s very happy with him. He’s a scientist at her company.”
“Really? Awesome.” Her tone carries a bit of relief with a side of awe thrown in.
“Thought you’d like hearing that.” I grin, but she can’t see me doing it.
“Yeah, I do,” she says softly.
“Baby, I miss you already, and it’s only been a few days. How are we ever going to do this?” I ask honestly, sharing my discomfort with her. Usually I’d keep my feelings to myself, but this woman is bringing out an entirely different side to me. An honest, more open side.
“Same way it’s working now. I come to you, you come to me. Whenever we’re together, we enjoy our time to the fullest. As time progresses, we’ll keep talking about it. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a place in Boston.”
The simple thought of her being closer in between jobs sends a tight feeling of anticipation thumping against my temple. Though I fear giving the idea even the smallest encouragement because of what it would mean for us. It’s too soon. Too fast.
“But your work is in New York—”
“And LA, and abroad. Honey, I work everywhere. I can hang my hat wherever I want. I don’t have family aside from Tracey, and she’s a hop, skip, and a plane ride to New York City from Boston. You have a business and a family in Boston, not to mention your chosen brothers. I’d never ask you to give that up.”
“And yet you’d so quickly give up your home in New York?”
“Home isn’t always a place. It’s a feeling. And right now, where I think this is headed, I’m more at home when I’m with you. How’s about you chew on that bomb awhile. I’ve got to get on set. My thirty minutes are up.”
“Sky, baby, you dropped a pretty serious nuke on me.”
“Well, it isn’t going to happen this month, or even next month. How’s about we put it out into the universe and see what happens this year? We’ve got all the time in the world to make grand overtures to one another,” she teases.
“Have I told you lately that I like you?”
“No.”
“I really like you.” I use my sexy bedroom voice, hoping it will make her think of me when she goes back to work with Rick the Prick.
“I really like you too, Parker. Oh, and tonight . . .”
“Yeah, Peaches?”
“Dream of me.”
My girl air-kisses the phone and hangs up without waiting for my goodbye. I shake my head and open the door of the dance studio. It’s time to help teach some women how to embrace their sexiness while thinking about the sexiest woman alive back in New York who practically offered to move to Boston for me.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that information?
“Anna-Maria, I want you to put on the thong and the robe and come into this room with me.” I point to the private ballet space, a small, twelve-by-twelve-foot mirrored room. I imagine dancers use this for one-on-one training. Right now, it’s going to be me having a heart-to-heart with a skittish mother of two.
The woman nods, goes to the changing room, and comes back out within a few minutes. Her blonde hair is hanging down around her ears, cut barely to her shoulders. Her eyes are blue, and her features rounded nicely. Under the robe I already know she has large breasts, a bit of a tummy, and wide hips. Her legs are long and strong, thighs pretty toned. Overall, she’s any man’s fantasy. All soft curves and bountiful tits and ass.
I have a single chair in the center of the room. “Go ahead and take a seat, sweetheart,” I say in as nonthreatening a tone as I can.
She does what I ask, though she’s watching her feet as she approaches, the robe clutched tight in her fists and around her body.
I go over to the door and find the light switch, where I dim the light.
“In the show, the lighting will be even darker. Though it will flash to brighter spotlights, but fleetingly. Not long enough for anyone to scrutinize over anything in particular.”
She purses her lips and nods.
“What I want you to do is to show me the routine Martina taught you, while you’re wearing your robe.”
“Um, okay. What about music?”
I pull out my phone, hit “Play” on the song “Don’t Cha” from the Pussycat Dolls, and set it on as high a volume as it will go.
The room fills with the song, and Anna-Maria starts to move while I stay back near the door.
At first, I can see her movements are stilted, but the longer the song goes on and she starts to repeat the twelve moves, she becomes comfortable.
“Okay now, remove the robe.”
“But . . .”
“Sweetheart, I know you’re self-conscious, but what you don’t know is that you look absolutely incredible. Women everywhere are going to look at you and be amazed. A mother of two who looks as beautiful as you do. They’ll feel empowered by what you’re doing . . . for them. This isn’t for you. It’s to show women like you they too can be and feel sexy with the body they have in this lingerie. This line is made to empower all women of all sizes. And I think once you get past the nerves, you’re going to see yourself differently, which is why I wanted to bring you in here in your outfit. So you could have some time to assess what you look like in it.”
“It’s a thong, and my butt isn’t what it used to be,” she mumbles, her Italian accent thick and wavering with the emotions manifesting as fear inside her.
“Try. Start with taking off the robe. I’ve already seen you in the outfit and thought you were stunning. As did the designer. Now it’s time to see yourself.”
I restart the song as she stands up, firms her spine, and nods resolutely. She undoes the robe and lets it drop to the floor. She’s wearing a dark-purple number with satin and lace at the cups, which barely hold her large breasts but give them a slight lift, making them even more enticing. The rest of the piece skims down against her belly in a camisole-type shape adjuster that flattens the tummy slightly, which is supposed to make the woman feel more supported. On the bottom is a scrap of a thong, covering what it needs to in front but completely bare at the ass, a saucy purple satin bow right at the tailbone as if highlighting the ass as a gift. Which, from where I’m standing . . . it absolutely is.
Seeing a woman who’s all luscious curves has my dick perking up. I can’t help it; she’s scantily dressed and stunning. I’d have to be dead not to appreciate this image, but thoughts of my Skyler keep the beast at rest.
Anna-Maria works through her routine, her eyes glued to herself in the mirror. I can see the second she sees what we’ve all seen. Her eyes light up when she brings her arms together, which has the awesome effect of showing off her ample breasts in the mirror. A little smile curves her lips as she twirls her neck, letting her hair fly a
round wildly. She spins in a circle and moves her ass from side to side, showing off her very spankable cheeks.
“Jesus, girl, you’re going to make men lose their minds.” I clap as she smiles wide in the mirror and continues to move her body the way she was taught.
When the music ends, she’s ass toward the mirror, looking over her shoulder in the pose she was told to hold on the runway under one of the spotlights. Right then, I flick the lights all the way on so she can see her ass and body in all their glory for a mere ten seconds before I flick most of them off.
“So, what do you think?” My breath is lodged in my throat as I wait for her to say whether or not she’ll wear the outfit as the designer expects.
“I . . . I . . . I look really good in it. Even my butt. I . . . I can’t believe it.” She runs her hand over her bare ass.
“Sweetheart, you wouldn’t have been picked if the designer didn’t think you were the perfect woman for the design. Which you are. I hope you can see that now.”
She shrugs, and her cheeks pinken as I move toward her and hand her the robe. She puts it on, covering up her fine ass. Pity.
“Maybe. I mean, I think it looks good.”
“So you’ll wear the thong and do the show?”
Anna-Maria smiles and nods. “Sì. Yes, I’ll do it.”
“Excellent. You’ll be doing a favor for women everywhere, but I think you’ll be doing one for yourself too.”
She grins and covers her mouth with her hand. “I can’t wait for my husband to see me. He wouldn’t do the runway, but he’s excited for me. Says he’s looking forward to the world seeing how beautiful his wife is, knowing I’m still his.”
This time, I smile wide and hook an arm appropriately over her shoulder, careful not to grip anything. “Sweetheart, it sounds like you’ve got a great man at home.”
“I do. And you? Is there a Mrs. Ellis?” Her question throws me off guard.
Mrs. Ellis.
I’ve always attributed that name to my mother. “Married? No. Someone special? Yes.”
International Guy: Milan (International Guy Series Book 4) Page 8