Mister Weston

“You’ve read my book three times?”

“Seven,” he said. “And I’m not done. You have a lot of errors you need to know about.”

“It’s already published.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He was smiling. “You need to know about each and every one of them.” He clasped my hand. “Why did you change where we first had sex? It was against the bookshelf, but in your book it’s on my desk.”

“My editor thought that was a better place.”

“My eyes skew towards a lighter blue, not dark blue.”

“Another editorial change.”

“We fucked on way more than one international flight, and you sucked my cock for the first time in New York, not a stopover hotel.”

“Once again, editorial.”

“I also don’t ever recall saying that I loved you that soon in our relationship.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I said what we had was messy and I liked it.”

“So, you don’t love me?” I asked.

“That’s not the point.”

“Care to get to it?” I mocked his voice, and he smiled again.

“The point is, I haven’t seen or fucked you in months, and I haven’t seen or fucked anyone else in months either.” He pressed his lips against mine. “And that, no one else will ever compare. I miss and I love you, and only you. And most of all, I miss fucking you.”

“You really could’ve left that last part out...”

“No, it was very much needed.” He wiped one of my stray tears away. “I love you, Gillian. No matter what, and I think we need to leave this party. Now.”

“Not until I ask you a few questions. I need to know what type of man I’m dealing with tonight.”

“The type that’s going to fuck you the second we make it to the elevator, the type that’s going to take you to his place after that and fuck you all over again.”

I blushed, but remained still. “Why did you take me off your visitors’ list at the hospital?”

“I didn’t want you to see me that way,” he said, looking genuine. “Plus, you’d already been there two weeks in a row and I was fine. I wanted you to worry about yourself.”

“Are you the anonymous person who’s been upgrading all my flights to first class for all my recent book signings?”

“Of course not,” he said, smirking. “Only someone who still loves you would do something like that.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re very welcome. Is that the end of your questions?”

“No, I have two more.”

“I’ll answer one more.”

“Fine. Is this the part where you propose?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He pressed his mouth against mine and kissed me so hard and reckless that I nearly lost my balance. Then he squeezed my hand and began to lead me toward the elevator. “This is the part where we start a new chapter, one we can write together.”

**The End**