"Why are they here?" he calmly asks, stepping to me and resting his hands on my hips.
I put my hands on his shoulders and our eyes meet, letting him walk back with me following suit to the bed to sit. "Josh is my brother, James is like family to me, the other 3 are good friends of mine. I cleared it with Johnny and 'Tima," I reply softly, bending at my waist and place a sweet kiss on his lips.
Once I stand upright again, his strong hands pull me to straddle his lap and wraps his arms around my waist. He rests his head on my shoulder, his fingertips brushing the naked expanse of skin on my lower back and I curve my back toward his body. His lips press against the side of my neck and my head drops back to expose the front of it, his fingers pressing against my back. "I miss holding you," he whispers.
"I'm still mad."
"Please?"
"Prove you've changed."
I'm daring him to go against his instinct, to stop dead in his tracks as I feel him get hard under me. He stops kissing my neck, taking deep breaths and lightly massaging my back to show what level of respect he has now. "Sorry, I got carried away. I love you."
"I love you, too." Wow, he has begun changing, I'm surprised. I might be able to allow myself to fall for him again if he keeps the changes up, but I doubt he will do it consistently.
I can't fight the desire and sexual energy any longer, his hands begin traveling the length of my back. "I hated not talking to you after that fight," he admits, truly going against his natural desires.
"Sometimes I need space, time and to be mad," I tell him, the tension I feel evident in my voice.
I feel him kiss my shoulder. "I understand that. Are you ok?"
"Yeah, I want you now." Talk about admitting defeat!
He laughs softly, kissing my neck and resumes brushing his fingers against my lower back in ways that only he can do. "Are you sure?" he asks, his lips brushing the curve between my shoulder and neck.
"Uh-huh," I tell him, confessing the need. I tug on his long sleeve shirt. "Off," I command.
He slides his hands off my back, positioning his arms so I can pull it off and I kick off my shoes. He slips his hands under my shirt and pushes upward, making me lift my arms to easily remove my shirt. "I've wanted to hold you so bad the whole time, but you wouldn't let me."
"Nick," I whine, breathing heavily and my body rocking on his lap.
"Look at me," he demands, pulling his head back away from my neck and guiding my head with one hand to look at him. I do and he kisses me, turning us around to lay me on the bed. He's leaning over me, grinding on me and I match him move for move. Our eyes are locked and as much as I want to close mine like I always have to hide the color of them at this particular moment, but I can't. I'm wishing that it's Justin and getting lost in the moment with him, not Nick.
"I love you."
I don't love you like I used to. "I love you, too."
We've been laying naked and wrapped in each other's arms, my head on his chest with my hand splayed in front of my eyes. "Your eyes haven't been that color before, not that I've seen," Nick calmly mentions, gently rubbing my back.
Justin had every single time, I keep my eyes open for him and not you. "I always have my eyes closed or my head thrown back by habit," I quietly tell him.
I took a shower, got on a nice pair of jeans and a good shirt, only thing left to do is the discombobulated mop people call my hair. "Gel and scrunch it," Nick suggests, leaning against the door frame of the bathroom.
My eyes snap to his reflection in the mirror. "You think so?"
"I love when you do that with your hair."
"Mmm."
He pushes off the frame and walks up behind me, holding my hips. "Please?"
"Okay," I agree, grabbing my gel and squeezing the tube so that some of the blue contents are deposited into my palm. "You realize I'm going to dinner with my brother tonight and then all five tomorrow night? The 12th, you have to pretend to get along with them."
"Why?" he questions, scrunching his face up and scowling.
"Because they'll be sitting in on the rehearsal and show that day," I explain, turning to face him and sit on the edge of the sink with his waist nestled between my legs. He pulls me into a hug, kissing my neck. "Fatima cleared it."
"Josh, relax. I set it up and we have the whole back corner to ourselves."
He glances at me from the driver's seat at a red light, nervously smiling. "I trust you, it's everyone else I don't." He looks in the mirror, his brows furrowing. "Why is that car following us?"
I glance in my sideview and flip off the driver, the person's headlights flash off and back on. "That's Jeremy, my security detail when I'm with the Boys."
"You have your own security staff?!" he shouts.
"Yeah, Fatima and Nick demanded it."
"Talk about treated well. Who pays for it?"
"The Boys, I think."
We pull up, he helps me exit his rental and hands the keys to a staff member of the restaurant. I forgot what they're called, my mind is blank right now and I'm more focused on strengthening the bond Josh and I are building. We walk in and I stop at the greeting podium inside a new French restaurant, waiting for a waiter. A teen boy with short caramel hair and hazel eyes stands in front of us, donning khakis and a red collared dress shirt with a pocketed piece of cloth tied to his waist. "Combien, mademoiselle?" he inquires, meeting my eyes.
"Deux, monsieur," I respond.
"Sous quel nom?"
"Chasez, Jazzy. Merci, jeune homme," I tell him.
"De cette façon, s'il vous plaît. Un membre de notre personnel se fera par prendre votre commande très prochainement. Merci pour manger avec nous ce soir."
He pulls my chair out and I sit, allowing him to push the chair in behind me. Josh sits across from me and shoots me a curious glance. "What the fuck did you just say?"
I smile and join my hands together by weaving my fingers together, resting my chin on them. "I told him a reservation for two under my nickname was done, thanked him and he thanked us for eating here."
"How long have you been learning French?"
"A couple years. Aaron's been teaching me German, I know Irish and plan on improving my Spanish."
"That'd make it 5 languages."
"I need to be able to talk to people in other languages, people who can't speak good English."
"True."
The waiter comes to our table and I order what we want, having learned French. I speak it fluently because I had been determined to learn it, to be able to write in it. "I can't believe that we have actually begun to bond, both of us being honest. You realize how hard it is for me?" I comment, narrowing my eyes as I ask the question.
"No, but I am trying so hard to be patient and I'm trying my best to let you live your life as I live mine," he explains, pulling my hands apart and placing his hand on the table over mine.
"Understandable, but I'm a teenager."
"Chris explained what it's like to deal with a younger teen sister."
"Good."
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