Chapter 20 Married #2
I shrugged. “Honestly, Paris is way too scary on his own, even without his hunk of a husband looming behind him.”
“Agreed.”
Terry grabbed the remote and turned up the sound just as Renner asked, “You’re saying you’ve been in a committed relationship all this time?”
Paris smiled pleasantly. “Yes.”
A few gasps came from the live audience in the studio.
Renner leaned forward, frowning at Paris. “Why keep it a secret?”
“You knew my parents.”
“I think everybody did. Both of your fathers have sat on the sofa you’re sitting on now.”
“But you knew them in person, and you saw glimpses of their private life over the years.”
“Yes, I did.”
“You also know how constant public scrutiny affected their marriage.”
The tension in the studio was palpable. Renner frowned but agreed.
“Growing up,” Paris continued, “I watched my fathers fight, break up, and get back together, only to become estranged again despite the love and passion they shared.”
“Do you blame the public for the divorce? Or two divorces. Your fathers remarried after six years apart if I remember it correctly.”
“And divorced again two years later, yes.” Paris smirked. “I wouldn’t say I blame the public. No. We all are responsible for our own fate and happiness. But I know firsthand the strain fame puts on relationships early on, and I wanted to experience love without the constant pressure.”
“So you decided to keep your love life secret.”
“As much as possible, yes.”
“Which led to a large amount of speculation.”
Paris merely smiled.
Renner picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and began reading.
“You're presumed to have dated Allan Caspian, at least six of your costars, Governor Figueroa, and the governor’s husband, Felix Figueroa. I even have an article here claiming you were part of a three-way relationship with the Figueroas. Another newspaper has speculated that you’ve been spending your heats at sex resorts abroad.
And recently, we’ve all heard the rumors about you and Lothair Courtemanche. ”
“Lothair and I are good friends.”
“You keep saying that, yes.”
Paris laughed. “Lothair knows I’ve been happily married all these years.”
Renner gaped, his eyebrows hiking up theatrically. “Married?”
Paris looked to the side, and the camera zoomed out. Boone walked onto the stage, his impressive frame appearing even larger in a simple dark suit. He looked only at Paris. He sat down next to him and grabbed his hand.
Paris turned toward the audience. “My husband, Boone Hawthorne.”
The crowd in the studio went crazy, shrieking excitedly. Boone kissed the back of Paris’s hand while Paris gave him one of his rare, genuine smiles. While the crowd kept clapping and stomping, Renner turned toward the cameras and helplessly threw his hands in the air.
It took several minutes for the people in the studio to calm down.
The interview continued after a commercial break.
Renner challenged Paris, asking him whether he felt he’d been deceiving his fans all these years, but Paris managed to sidestep the trap.
The rest of the talk show revolved around how Boone and Paris met and how Boone handled the secrecy.
Boone barely said two words, but he appeared composed and steady at Paris’s side.
Overall, it seemed like the news would be accepted with grace and even enthusiasm, but we couldn’t know for sure until the major outlets ran the story.
The credits rolled, and I turned the TV off. Terry massaged my nape with his fingers, and I closed my eyes.
“I think it might work,” Terry said. “If Carlos throws the pics on top of this, he’d be attacking the privacy of a happy couple and not exposing a sex scandal.”
“Maybe.”
Terry combed through my hair. “How are you feeling, baby? You look exhausted.”
“I’m fine. Just annoyed.”
“Why?”
“Regardless of what Carlos does, it’ll come out that you and I are together sooner or later. You’ll hate the attention.”
“I’ll live. It’s not that important.”
“It’ll be important when people harass you in the street.”
“I can take care of myself.”
I glanced at him, once again marveling at how pretty he was. Terry was the proverbial golden boy. The media would adore him—before they would inevitably make his life hell.
“I know you can. But you keep making sacrifices for me. What Paris said about fame and relationships, it’s true.”
He leaned in and kissed my lips, lingering for a few breaths. He didn’t deepen the kiss. Instead, he pulled back and cupped my cheek, scraping through my stubble with his thumb.
“It’s not either or, Lothair. The things I’m losing are nothing compared to what I’ve gained. I’ve made a few adjustments at work. So what? Maybe I won’t go shopping in malls anymore when people start recognizing me. As if I’ve ever enjoyed that. It’s not a big deal.”
“I love you, Terry. I need you happy with me.”
“I am happy. And I love you too.”
When we had sex that night, it was tame.
The stress from the last few days weighed on us both.
I needed the connection more than the sexual release itself—which was new to me.
Terry sank into me, and I wrapped my arms around his back, pulling him down for a kiss.
With his tongue sliding against mine, his cock reaching deep into my guts, I sighed with relief.
“I needed this.”
Terry smirked and bit my lower lip. “You always need to fuck.” He pushed into me harder, and I groaned.
“Tonight…I need you…to make love to me.”
My mate’s eyes softened as he slowed down the tempo of his thrusts. He circled his hips, stretching my hole. My cock was trapped between our bellies, the ridges aching deliciously.
“Like this?”
A long, slow thrust, deep enough to make me grunt.
“Yesss.”
He didn’t tease me anymore. He recaptured my lips with his and didn’t break the kiss until I was shaking, my cock jerking between us, my cum smearing our torsos.
Growling, Terry stilled deep inside me.
“Love you,” I mumbled around his tongue in my mouth. He shuddered through his orgasm, clutching me to him, filling me up.
Much later, after he pulled out of me, I stretched my limbs. The pleasure lingered in my underbelly, and I was suddenly in a great mood.
I rolled to my side and tapped my finger on his lips.
“How about we get married too?”
Terry snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”
“What? It’s not a laughing matter. You’re my fated mate. Of course I want you to be my husband too.”
He pushed himself up on his arms and glowered down at me.
“Then you should work on your proposal technique, Lothair.”
With that, he shot up from the bed and walked to the bathroom, flashing me his impeccable backside.
“Challenge accepted!” I yelled after him.
His laugh sounded happy, and I grinned.
Maybe, just maybe, we’d get some peace now.