Wait For Me

After each cool introduction, not one person asks me another question—nothing about myself or how I’m enjoying the evening. They could care less that I’m even here.

Fine by me. These people don’t need to know me any more than I need to know them. I stand back and listen quietly as women walk up and want to gossip.

I’m proud to say Nora doesn’t participate. Instead, she smiles and listens, but doesn’t add to the drama. In fact, she looks uncomfortable. These women call themselves her friends, but I’m guessing by the bored look on Nora’s face that they’re more acquaintances than anything.

Regardless, the mindless chatter is driving me batshit crazy. This is worse that listening to my kids bicker.

“Want to get out of here?” I ask when we get a reprieve.

Nora looks up at me, relieved. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The ride back to Calabasas is quiet. When we walk through the front door, Nora shuts it softly and walks straight back to her room. She glances over her shoulder once to make sure I’m following, which I am, because I’m a sucker for this woman.

Once in her room, she takes out her earrings, sets them on the dresser, and then proceeds to pull the bobby pins, one by one, from her hair until it falls down her back in thick, dark waves.

And then she turns to me.

She’s gorgeous. Her big eyes blink up at me as she runs a tongue along her lower lip. Everything about her is perfect. She’s like something out of a magazine—too beautiful, too perfect, too everything. She’s untouchable, but here I am running my fingers up her arms and over her collarbone until I cup her delicate neck in the palm of my hand.

She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she melts against me.

“I’m scared,” she whispers.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to do.”

“I’m not scared of that. I’m ready for that.”

“Then what are you scared of?”

“This. Us.”

I brush a strand of hair from her face. “I’m scared too, you know.”

“You don’t seem like the type of man to be scared of anything. You’re always so strong and sure of yourself.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t get scared, and you, Nora Hayes, frighten the hell out of me. Everything between us has happened so fast.”

She nods. “I know it has.”

“But I don’t want it to end. It’s not you or the thought of you that scares me. It’s knowing you’re going to leave—that one of these days I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone.”

“I don’t have to leave.”

“Yes, you do. Your life is here, Nora. Your life is on stage, touring the world, entertaining your fans. And that’s how it should be. That’s what you love.”

“I can have more than one love. And just because I leave doesn’t mean I won’t come back.”

“That’s the answer I was hoping for.”

I kiss her soft lips, slide my hand up the curve of her waist, and cup her breast in my hand. She arches her back, pressing herself against me.

“Make love to me,” she whispers, her lips brushing mine. “I need you, Grayson.”

“I need you too, sweetheart.”

Nora takes a step back. With her eyes on mine, she lowers the straps of her dress and shimmies out of it until she’s standing naked before me.

My mouth waters at the sight of her: round, perky tits, curvy waist made for my hands, and the damp V between her legs.