Rising from his knees, Chase cups my face then brings his lips to mine. His kiss is frenzied, desperate, as though he can’t possibly get enough of me. I can still taste myself on his tongue and his swollen lips. He scoops me into his arms then carries me back to the bedroom.
From the insatiable passion in his kiss, I expect him to toss me on the bed like a rag doll and ravish me, but he doesn’t. He lays me down as though I’m delicate, precious. As he hovers over me, his expression makes my breath catch in my throat. He says “I love you,” all the time, and I know he means it, but from the way he’s looking at me right now, with such intensity, such fire burning in his eyes, I can feel the depth and magnitude of his emotions, and it rocks me to the core. I’ve never felt so adored, so secure.
I try to reciprocate the expression. I want him to know I feel the same way. “I love you too,” I whisper before I kiss him.
I tug at the bottom of his shirt then pull it over his head. After tossing it aside, we resume our kiss, and I run my hands down the smooth contours of his body, my fingers tracing his defined muscles. When my hand reaches his pants, I slide under the waistband. The instant my fingertips touch the head of his cock, he gasps and his eyes roll back.
With my free hand, I gently push his shoulder, encouraging him to lie on his back. Once he’s lying down, I slide down his pants, then he flings them across the room with his foot. I push his legs apart slightly and crawl up the bed between them. His body shudders as I run my tongue along the ridge of his tip.
“Ohhh, fuuuuck,” he mutters.
His hands grasp my hair as I lick him from root to tip. His grip tightens when I blow gently on his cock before taking him deep in my mouth. The way he fists my locks as though he’s holding on for dear life, hearing him moan my name while I suck his cock, knowing I’m giving him pleasure, all of it makes me crazy. I press my thighs together, but my desire becomes too intense to bear. I need him inside me.
I give him one last hard suck, then I pull back. My eyes meet his as I straddle him. He inhales a shaky breath when I lower myself onto him. Putting my hand on the wall for support, I rock against him, his pelvis grinding against my clit. Our bodies move together like a well-oiled machine. We know each other so well that knowing how to move, how fast to go, how much pressure to use is instinctive. As natural as it is, being with Chase never feels boring or routine. Being with someone who knows me this well allows us to explore and push limits and boundaries.
His body tenses and I know he’s close to coming, but I’m not there yet. I move his hand from my back to clit. He presses his thumb against me, rubbing with just the right amount of pressure. He thrusts deep inside me as he comes, and I follow seconds later. When I come, my reflex is to close my eyes, but I force them to stay locked on Chase’s eyes, making the whole experience that much more powerful.
Breathless, exhausted, and satiated, I collapse next to him. As we ride the post-orgasm high, I can’t help but stare at him. These are the eyes I’ll be staring into for the rest of my life. This is the skin I’ll feel under my fingertips until the day I die. This is the body I’ll feel against mine every night. I have never felt more loved or more lucky in my life.
*****
“Now that I’m not the most hated man in America, wedding plans should come together easier, don’t you think?”
I groan. “Poor Bryan’s been trying to squeeze blood from a stone. The last set of places he sent me were really the bottom of the barrel. Literally, an old bourbon barreling plant in some run-down hollow in Kentucky. He swore with two or three hundred thousand dollars in flowers and another hundred in lights, he could make it a wedding wonderland.”
“Oh, is that all? For that price, couldn’t we just build a whole new site? Maybe one that’s not in the middle of nowhere?”
“Don’t give him any ideas! He probably would. I can see it now, ‘For a few million we can buy a truck stop, renovate it and turn into something gorgeous!’
“Nah,” Chase replies. “He wouldn’t want anything that close to a freeway. All the exhaust would make his floral sculptures wilt.”
“Regardless, I hope vendors will stop telling him no. I’d even settle for a maybe.”
Chase strokes my thigh. “I think our options are about to significantly improve. In fact, let’s schedule a meeting with him so he can move forward with a little direction. We’ve been worried about finding a place that’s willing to work with us, but now that we should have options again, we should make sure we’re all on the same page.”
“And what page is that exactly? We’ve gone from wanting a week-long super-vacation to wanting any place where we don’t get pelted with beer bottles on the way to the altar. Where are we now? What should we tell him we want? Other than that we want no run-down factories in need of a botanical garden’s worth of flowers to cover up the rotten yeast smell.”
“The third week of February through the end of May, those are my only parameters. If he can’t work with that, we’re eloping,” he says with a grin.
I run through my mental calendar, but I can’t think of anything major we have scheduled at the end of May. “Why May?”
“Just want to make sure things aren’t too crazy before pre-season. Other than that, I’m open-minded. Does that work for you?”
“Well, my spring was devoted to the fashion line. Now that it’s gone—”
“Ari, I—”
I put my finger to his lips. “No more apologies. What I was saying is now that my calendar is open, I’ll have tons of time to work with Bryan on the wedding.”
He still has that sad, puppy dog face.
“Everything works out the way it’s supposed to,” I said, caressing his cheek. “Had everything gone as planned, I would have been bouncing around the world doing my millions of projects and would have had zero time to dedicate to the wedding. Now I’ll be able to play a bigger role, and that makes me happy.”
He sighs wistfully, puppy dog eyes still in place. “It’s going to be hard to find anything that’ll top Vespers.”
I pull my knees to my chest. “Maybe. I’m choosing to believe we dodged a bullet. There could have been a hurricane. Or maybe the construction wouldn’t be done in time. Vespers fell through because that was not where we were supposed to get married. It’s that simple. Seriously, no more talking about the past. I’m only looking forward.”
Chase leans across the bed and picks up his phone, then he starts typing. “I’m emailing Bryan to set up a time. The sooner we get him started, the sooner he can find the place we’re actually supposed to get married.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Arianna
The caterers finish setting up the sushi spread for lunch just as everyone arrives. Chase doesn’t have time to eat or sleep right now, but he’s insisting we make time to talk about the wedding. He says he can’t focus on the game until he knows the wedding is moving forward, which makes no sense to me whatsoever. If I were him, I wouldn’t give the wedding a second thought until after the season. He and I have always been different that way. When I was playing, I could tune out everything and just play, but he never could. So we’ve got one hour to hammer out a plan.
The meeting was just supposed to be Chase, Bryan, and me, but apparently Shelly and Scott approached Bryan with an idea, so now Chase’s entire staff is joining us. It’s a glaring reminder I need to hire a new manager and agent. I’m dragging my feet because I haven’t met anyone I’ve clicked with yet. I refuse to hire someone I’ll have to justify my choices to. Everyone I meet is focused on how I can make the most money, naturally—that’s how he or she will make the most money. But money is the last thing I care about right now. I want to put Chase and me in a good place where we’re both doing things that make us happy and make a difference. Money’s irrelevant. Those are two words an agent never wants to hear.
One of the sushi delivery guys asks Chase for his autograph, and he beams. His eyes light up like a slot machine on a jackpot. I don’t think
I’ve ever seen him so excited to meet a fan, but it’s been a long time since someone was actually happy to see him. While he’s chatting with the delivery guy, Melody, the front office assistant, shows everyone in.
“We need to make this fast,” I tell them as they hang up their coats. “Chase has to get back to practice. Let’s call this speed wedding planning. There’s no time for arguing, posturing, or pissing contests.”
Everyone fills a plate, then sits down.
Shelly dunks her California roll in soy sauce. “Scott and I have spoken at great length about how to move forward rebuilding Chase’s reputation.”
Chase picks up a spicy tuna roll with his chopsticks. “We’re not talking about me today, guys. I know we need to have a discussion about how to move forward, but I think that’s a longer conversation for another time. After the next game we can sit down and hammer out a plan. Wedding only for today, okay?”
Shelly lays her chopsticks on the side of her plate. “That’s the thing. We think the wedding could be one of the vehicles we use to drive you out of the shit pile and back into the spotlight.”
I do not like the sound of this. I glance at Bryan, hoping to get a read on him, but he’s looking through his notes without giving off a vibe one way or another. “What does that mean exactly?”
Shelly pours a cup of gyrokoru from the pot on the table. “When we last discussed wedding plans, preserving your privacy was the foremost concern. But based on the impact Ninergate has had on both of your marketability, we think keeping the wedding private would be wasting a pivotal opportunity to repair your public image. The world was obsessed with the two of you before the scandal broke. And that’s when you were keeping them at arm’s length. If you let the world in, let the wedding be more public, I think we can make the world fall back in love with you.”
I glare at her. “I repeat, what does that mean exactly?”
Chase pops a piece of futomaki in his mouth. “I’m not interested in pulling a Kardashian and making my wedding a made-for-TV event.”
“No, no, no,” Shelly says, waving her hands. “Nothing like that. We want you to be visible. Accessible. Not reality show accessible, but we want America to feel as though they have a bird’s-eye view.”
With every additional word out of her mouth, the urgency to run out of the room grows.
Scott eats a piece of ginger. “Shell’s worried about public perception, I’m focused on your contract. We went into this season thinking the big contract was a lock, but now… man, I’m going to be honest. I don’t know if San Fran is going to want to sign you again. After the flak they’ve taken from the fans for standing by you, they may want to make a clean break.”
“But everyone knows now that the whole thing was a sham,” Chase retorts. “I’m sure now that the truth is out, fans aren’t going to hold it against the team.”
Scott looks at me. “Jeb didn’t tell him?”
I can’t believe he’s going to bring this up now. “No,” I reply through gritted teeth. “We didn’t see the point.”
“Tell me what?” Chase asks.
“A couple of weeks ago, a group of season ticket holders sent a letter to Jeb saying if the Niners didn’t bench you, they’d revolt. Last week he was sent thousands of torn-up tickets to your upcoming game, along with a letter that says they won’t renew their seats for next year.”
Chase’s face falls. “Seriously? We’re going into our last home game undefeated, and we may be playing to an empty stadium?”
I was hoping he’d never hear about that, but I guess I was being naïve. Ticket prices are running an average of $385 per ticket. For someone to just tear them up, throwing away almost eight hundred dollars for their pair… that’s quite a statement. One that Chase is hearing loud and clear. Season ticket holders are pivotal to an organization’s success, so regardless of Chase’s relationship with Jeb, the team will be hard pressed to ignore this move.
I put my hand on Chase’s arm. “You have to remember that was before the truth came out. It’s a whole new ball game now. I talked Jeb into reprinting the tickets and mailing them back out to the ticket holders, hoping they’d reconsider.” I turn to Scott. “You can’t believe they still feel that way now.”
I almost say that I don’t see Jeb or Oscar cutting ties with Chase now, not after how well he’s performed in the face of endless adversity, but I stop myself. This is a business, and loyalty and friendships only go so far. The bottom line is what dictates everything. Chase’s future is riding on turning this around.
“I had some rough polling done,” Shelly chimes in. “It’s not great. A lot of people are still confused and conflicted. We need to win those people back. It’s going to be very hard to sell either of you until those numbers look up.”
Scott chews on a piece of unagi. “So like I was saying, after all the drama this year, guilty or not, the Niners may want a clean slate. That would be devastating for us from a dollars-and-cents perspective. We at least need them in the running, or any other team is going to lowball you. If you guys can make yourselves out to be the king and queen of the Bay Area, bolster that fan support, it’ll go a long way come contract negotiation time.”
Skeptical of their logic, I look at them with raised eyebrows as I squeeze out an edamame. “You really think a bunch of football fans are going to be wooed by our wedding? Most men couldn’t care less about tabloid fodder. I can’t see them rushing out to renew their season tickets because they like my wedding dress.”
“It’s not them,” Scott says. “It’s their wives, girlfriends, secretaries. They start talking about how crazy they are over you, and by osmosis, the fans are on your side again. They’re buying tickets. They’re buying jerseys. They’re counting the days till the season starts. And you’re counting your money all the way to the bank.” He grabs a dumpling off of Shelly’s plate. “Plus, once you get the chicks, Armani comes back, Ford comes back. They all come back, and we’re sitting fat.”
“It’s a slow process that requires a systematic plan of media saturation,” Shelly explains. “Carefully planted stories and exclusives that will get people talking about you in a positive way again. We give them nibbles of information, sprinkle tidbits about the wedding, so that by the time the big day comes, the whole city—hell, the whole country—is on pins and needles waiting for pictures. We think we can make you two our own version of Will and Kate.”
I snort. “You’re laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”
I look over at Chase to see if he’s buying into this, and my breath hitches. His eyes are bright, and his lips are curled up ever so slightly. For the first time in months, he looks hopeful. Looks as though I need to warm up to this idea.
I turn to Bryan. “So they came to you with this idea. I’m guessing you have an idea for this royal wedding?”
Bryan stands and hands us each a folder. I open it up, and the first picture is of City Hall. Unlike other cities where the city government offices are drab and dull, City Hall is one of the most beautiful buildings in San Francisco. The main staircase is iconic, with marble flooring and detailed bronze hand railings. The dome has some of the most intricate statues and sculpted medallions and embellishments. The building is internationally known as a marvel of art and design.
“We start with a ceremony at City Hall,” Bryan begins. “I’ve done events all over the world at some of the most exquisite locations, and this staircase is going to top them all. I’m telling you, with what I have planned, this will be the wedding everyone uses as the basis of comparison. It will have elegance, sophistication, grandeur.”
I flip through the pages. He has sketches of floral designs and ways to use lighting to accentuate the Rotunda. It looks like something out of a movie, it’s so elaborate.
“This looks amazing,” Chase says as he scans the pictures. “Would we do the reception here too?”
“This is my favorite part,” Shelly says. “From City Hall to the reception, everyone will ride in a row
of trolley cars. You two will have your own, of course. We suspect that if we leak what time you’ll be en route, you’ll have quite the crowd lined up, hoping to catch a glimpse.”
“You make it sound like a parade,” I say.
She claps. “Exactly.”
“You’ve got to be kiddi—”
Bryan cuts me off before I can express my thoughts on how obnoxiously pompous and pretentious a wedding parade is. “The reception will be on the top floor of the Merchants Exchange. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the whole city. The view alone is breathtaking, but I plan on taking that room to a whole other level.” He points at my packet. “Look at page ten. Shelly told me iconic San Francisco luxury, and the Julia Morgan ballroom is it. Especially with the number of guests you’re thinking of.” Bryan glances at his notes. “Now, I despise all the dark woods, so my plan is to use mirrors and light, along with floral sculpture, to transform the ballroom into a starry night. If you look on page thirteen, you’ll see what I mean. It’ll look so real, you’ll swear you’re outside.”
I flip through the pages, and I’m blown away. The ceiling is draped in black fabric and directly under it is a layer of lights. The perimeter of the room is blanketed in a wall of white flowers. Mainly dahlias, of course—the flower of San Francisco. He certainly has thought of every last San Franciscan detail. According to Bryan’s notes, the white accent walls will highlight the faux starry sky.
“Damn, Bryan,” Chase says as he scans the CGI models of Bryan’s designs. “That looks fucking awesome. It’s hard to believe it’s the same place. You can really do that? It’s like a planetarium.”
Love To Love You (Love/Hate #3) Page 26