“The host is starting to wonder if you two are porn stars he should look into,” Theo says beside us. Adam pulls back, his head low in embarrassment.
I giggle, slipping my hands through Adam’s. “If you’d given us a little heads up that you were so tight with half of Hollywood, Mr. Big Shot Producer, maybe we would’ve worked a bit more on our audition for your friends.”
Theo wiggles his eyebrows, handing us each another bottle of beer. “Then I would’ve been worried you wanted to hang with me for the fame and not my smoking hot body.” He waves at someone in the crowd. “I’ll be right back. Have to rub noses with the rich and famous.”
Adam stiffens beside me, watching Theo walk away.
“Okay, you need to stop with the jealousy bit,” I whisper, standing tall to playfully nip at his lip. “You know that’s just how he is. And you’re the one who told him you’d like to experience what it’s like to have his job. This is his way of letting you in, giving you a little glimpse of the glamour involved. Besides, I’m yours. No refund. Remember?”
“You’re sure he got the message? I mean, I appreciate that he’s become a good friend of ours and all, but I still don’t understand why he was so amped about flying us back—”
I cover his mouth with another kiss. “I guarantee he got the message, loud and clear.
And he knows damn well you’re all mine. If you need a little reassurance, we could go find somewhere quiet.”
“Here? On the roof?” he asks, his voice shooting up half an octave.
I lick my lips and grin, reaching down to fondle him, letting him know I’m serious.
“Another thing to add to the old list. What do you say?”
A deep hum vibrates through his chest. “You’re going to kill me.”
He couldn’t have come up with a worse choice of words, but I don’t call him on it.
I’ve become so desperate to share whatever intimate moments we have left together that it’s like I’m possessed by desire.
I look away, grabbing his hand and pulling him along to the dark side of the roof. We find a concealed spot behind the air conditioning unit where I don’t have to see the city below and worry about controlling my breathing.
Adam has only had one drink that I know of, but I feel the alcohol’s hold on him in his clumsy moves, taste it on his bitter tongue. I want to stop him and ask if brittle diabetics should be drinking. Doesn’t it mess with his blood sugar? Could it shorten whatever time he has left?
The minute his fingers find me and he realizes I’m not wearing underwear, I know the sex won’t last long. He unzips his pants and groans loudly into my mouth as he enters me, the notion of finding a condom lost with the whims of our passion.
The sex feels borderline dirty, and I’m almost ashamed. I have to bite down on his lip to keep from crying with each of his half-hearted thrusts. He pulls out rather than exploding inside of me, leaving his mark hundreds of feet high on a roof in New York.
Drunken giggles fill me as I try to drag him back. “I want to do that again!”
Adam hushes me, touching my mouth with his hand. “Not so loud.”
“C’mon, baby,” I say, trying to make my voice sound sensual. “Fuck me again. Who knows how many times we have left?”
Adam recoils like he’s been slapped and his expression hardens. “I’m calling it a night.”
I know I’ve stepped over the line. The whole point was to get a reaction out of him.
Make him feel some kind of guilt for the situation he’s forcing me into. Still, I hate to see the hurt in his eyes.
“Don’t be mad,” I plead, reeling him back in. “Please, don’t be mad. I love you. It’s not my fault you’ve turned me into a sex vixen.”
He tilts his head back and sighs before returning to plant small kisses on my shoulder and neck before running up to my mouth. “I’m not mad, baby. I just don’t want you to feel like shit again in the morning. I’m excited to see whatever else you have to show me.” He gently sucks on my lower lip, his excitement returning to match mine.
“I have to show you my world,” I whisper, breathing heavy against his mouth. “Just one more time. I know you’ve got it in you. Let’s own this night and make it one we’ll never forget.”
He gives in, making love to me for a third time in the course of twenty-four hours.
The whole time I feel as if I’m breaking inside.
Early morning I wake alone in Theo’s guest bed. Immediately, I begin to panic. What if something happened, and he’s lying collapsed downstairs in a puddle of his own blood or whatever it is that would happen to a diabetic who is in need of a transplant?