Perfect Imperfections

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

With a smile on his face, Jeremy snuggled closer and continued fondling Reg’s package.

“It’s Francis,” Reg said after a minute. “He’s up to something. I don’t know what. But I think he’s the one leaking your locations and all the other crap.”

“Seriously?” Jeremy sat up. “I’ve never liked him, but why would he do that?”

“I don’t know.” Reg rolled onto his back and shrugged. “I don’t understand half the shit I’ve seen the rich and famous do since I met you. But I’m telling you, it’s him.”

“I believe you.” And he did. There was no doubt in Jeremy’s mind. If Reg said Francis was responsible, that was exactly where he needed to focus. “Tell me what tipped you off. I’ll need to fill Bill in when I tell him I want Francis off my account.”

“Lots of little things. He’s the one who sets up your interviews, so he knows where you’re going to be. He acts really shifty when things are going down, like that time at the radio station when you’d had the annoying interview, and then all the paparazzi were outside. Instead of figuring out how to get you out of there, he got you worked up, practically put you in front of the cameras, and then stepped out of the frame.”

Remembering that day and how angry he’d been before Reg stepped in, Jeremy nodded. “You really think he did that on purpose?”

“At the time, no. I thought he was acting weird, but it didn’t stand out that much because I think half the people I’ve met on this tour act weird.” Reg paused. “Maybe more like 90 percent. Anyway, that’s not the biggest reason I know it’s him. Remember that clown reporter on Halloween?”

“Yeah.”

“Francis set him up. He told the paper to send a guy in a scary clown costume. When I heard that right after you said you’ve always been scared of clowns, I did a little online research.”

“Research?”

“Yup. I googled your name and the word ‘fear,’ and I got a bunch of hits—articles, blog posts, all sorts of things—referencing an interview you did two years ago where you mentioned a fear of clowns.”

“I think I remember that interview.” Jeremy sighed. “They asked the most annoying questions. Biggest fear. Favorite color.” He paused. “Who has a favorite color?”

“Black,” Reg said simply.

“What?”

“My favorite color. It’s black.”

“Oh.” Jeremy blinked in surprise.

“You don’t have a favorite color because you’re too colorful to settle for just one.” Reg kissed Jeremy’s forehead. “But back to the clown. What do you want to bet Francis knew you were scared of them?”

“I’m sure he did,” Jeremy confirmed. “It’s not a secret.”

“Good thing he hasn’t ever seen you faced with a spider. Lord knows what he would have come up with.”

Jeremy shuddered.

“Seriously, though. He knew about the clown thing, and he used that knowledge to catch you off guard and put you in a room with one. It was just like the radio-station situation.”

Nodding, Jeremy said, “I’ll call Bill. Tell him about this. I already pointed out to him that the only time I haven’t had a camera in my face in months was when he didn’t know where I was, so he has to realize the leak is someone on his team. It’s just taking him a bit of time to admit it.”

“I heard you say that to him. I was inside, listening,” Reg confessed. “It means a lot that you trust me.”

Feeling his chest tighten, Jeremy climbed onto Reg’s bigger body and cupped his whiskery cheeks. “In my whole life, I’ve never trusted anybody like I do you.” He dropped his forehead onto Reg’s. “I can’t tell you what that means to me, being able to just… be. Not having to think or be careful or pretend.”

He kissed Reg, softly at first, but after the first few kisses, Reg tilted his head, and Jeremy found the perfect angle to slip his tongue inside. Reg slid his tongue over Jeremy’s, the sensation unique and arousing, before sucking on Jeremy’s tongue.

“Mmm, JJ.” Reg tangled his fingers in the sides of Jeremy’s hair. “I’ll never take your trust for granted.” Kissing his way across Jeremy’s jaw, he whispered. “Won’t take you for granted.”

“I won’t either,” Jeremy promised. “Reg.”

“Uh-huh.” Reg kept kissing and licking—his jaw, his neck, his ear.

“Don’t let me, yeah?”

“Okay.” He suckled on Jeremy’s ear lobe. “Wait.” He pulled back and looked at Jeremy, his eyebrows drawn together. “What do you mean? What am I not letting you do?”

“Don’t let me take you for granted. I know I’m high-maintenance and self-absorbed and….” He tried to think of all the descriptions his exes and staff had used over the years. “And spoiled, but you’re important to me, really important, and—”

“Hey, cut it out.” Reg smiled at him tenderly. “I won’t let you talk about my boyfriend like that.” He brushed Jeremy’s hair off his forehead. “Besides, I like that you’re high-maintenance; it gives me something to do. And spoiling you is fun, superstar.”