CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
“You look at me, and you see all these different things I never thought were there. You called me an artist the other night. I know it’s gonna sound like I have a huge ego, but that’s something I haven’t been able to forget. It’s not every day somebody like me gets called an artist.”
“But you are.” I tug on his hand. “Come on. Let’s walk. It’s a beautiful night.”
And it is, clear and cool with a crisp breeze blowing down the street. Granted, the breeze carries all the smells of the city, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’d probably choke if I were ever out in the country or up in the mountains, where the air is truly clean and fresh.
He drapes an arm over my shoulders, and I lean in a little.
It’s nice, so nice. He’s back to being just a normal person again, and that’s the version of Dustin I would rather be with right now.
Just a man with many hidden depths, capable of writing songs that touch my heart—and not just my heart, but also the hearts of everybody around him.
“I have a confession to make,” I murmur as we walk.
“I went through a short, dark period not long ago. Work-related. I found out my books weren’t selling anymore.
And maybe it was too easy at first. I don’t know if you did any reading up on me, but I hit the New York Times list on my first try.
That almost never happens, not unless an author is really lucky and backed by the right people who really believe in their work. ”
“That’s amazing for you.”
“It was, and it was amazing the other times too. I live a charmed life. I know that. But I don’t think I really appreciated it fully until my sales started slumping.
I had been so spoiled.” I even laugh softly when I remember that meeting in Maggie’s office, where I expected champagne and congratulations and instead was told I needed to start writing steamier books. “Tastes change. The market fluctuates.”
“Tell me about it,” he groans.
“I had to switch up everything. I couldn’t write sweet, cute romance anymore, even when that’s all I really want to write.
I know you were lashing out earlier when you sort of insulted me.
But you made it sound like I’m some mindless Pollyanna who just wants to see the good in everybody and believe we’re all in this together and whatever. ”
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, really.”
“I think you did a little bit, but it was because you were upset. I get it. You don’t have to explain it to me.
I know I wasn’t feeling very good when my editor pretty much told me that what I was writing was crap.
So, I had to spice things up. I had to start following the trends that people wanted to read about, which felt completely foreign to me.
I was convinced I couldn’t do it, that I would be untrue to myself if I started writing trendier books. I took it personally. Deeply so.”
“I’m really sorry that happened.” He gives me a small squeeze. “How’s it been going since then?”
“You mean, aside from the fact that I’m writing three times faster than I ever used to?
It seems to be going well. I adjusted, no matter how much I didn’t want to at the time.
And it didn’t kill me to start writing sexier books.
But gosh, I really doubted myself big time.
There were moments when I wondered if I should be doing this at all. ”
“Wow. You and I have more in common than I first thought.”
“I know how it feels. And I know how insecurity sucks. When you wonder if you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing or if maybe you should consider a career change.”
He lets out a low whistle. “This is all I know how to do.”
“I truly believe it’s what you’re meant to do.
” I stop, turning to him, and I take the chance of sliding my arms around his waist. He pulls me closer.
“I really believe you have a gift. I’m not just saying that because I’m standing here in the middle of the sidewalk with you and my teenage self would’ve killed for this opportunity. ”
He snickers at this, and his eyes light up. “That’s nice to hear.”
“You know what I mean. I’m not feeding you a line just because I know it’s what you want to hear. I mean it. And I don’t have a doubt in the world that you’re going to be on top again someday.”
He draws me into a deep, long kiss that leaves my legs shaking and my stomach all twisted up in happy, joyful knots.
“I need a lot more of you in my life,” he rasps before kissing me again and again until I almost forget we’re out in public and there are certain things we probably shouldn’t do out here.
So, throwing him to the ground and humping him until I pass out is not an option. But oh boy, do I wish it were.
Because I would like a lot more of him in my life too. Especially if he keeps kissing me the way he is now.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, giggling, as he guides me into a darkened doorway leading up to apartments situated over a corner bodega. “What is this place?”
“Who cares?” he asks before pushing me against the wall, deep in the shadows.
I’m so overwhelmed by this that, at first, there’s nothing in the world but Dustin’s mouth and hands and his ragged breathing. The smell of sweat and whiskey and cologne, all mixed together in a scent that’s entirely his. His knee slides between my thighs before he thrusts his hips against me.
And it’s good. It’s really, really good.
But it’s also a dirty doorway that reeks like pee.
“Dustin, Dustin, wait a sec.” I have to remove his hands from my butt when he doesn’t listen.
“I need you, Kitty …” He takes one of my hands and places it against the very obvious, very large bulge in his jeans. “This is what you do to me. One kiss, and I’m hard as a rock.”
Should I congratulate him? “Can we go someplace a little better than this? Like, where there’s privacy?”
He growls softly before pushing away from me. “Damn it. You’re making me crazy.”
“I’m … sorry? Hey, I’m totally down with this.” Does that sound cool? Or am I trying too hard? “But not here. In a doorway, where it smells like somebody peed earlier. What happens if someone comes out? Or they want to go in? What if you’re recognized? That would be terrible for you.”
The man has zero impulse control. He honestly looks pissed that I stopped him. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“We can go to your hotel, if you want,” I suggest, trying to be playful. “Or my apartment.”
He opens his mouth to reply—but not before his phone buzzes. “Sorry, hang on.” He reads the message and scowls. “Damn it. Todd wants me to meet up with him at some club, so I can talk with some random guitarist he represents.”
“Oh, okay. That sounds fun.” It doesn’t, but I’m trying. I’m really trying.
Even when he gives me a funny, pained sort of look. “I think it’s the kind of thing I should do alone. No offense. We’ll be talking shop the whole time anyway, so you’d be bored out of your mind.”
“Sure. I get it.” I’m not upset. Although … “Maybe we can get together later? Or tomorrow? Whenever.” Okay, Kitty, dial it back a notch. You don’t have to sound so desperate.
It’s just that I finally made up my mind about whether I’m going to sleep with him or not, and now that I want to, he’s not available. Just my luck.
“Yeah. That sounds good. I’ll have to let you know when I’m free. I’ve got interviews and stuff all week. But we’ll make it work.”
Gee, we’ll make it work? What are we planning, a business meeting?
I manage a smile as he flags down a cab and even smile through our good-byes.
When I’m in the car, on the other hand, all I can do is fume.
And wonder what he thinks of me if he expected me to do it in a stinky doorway.