Page 9 of Need to Know

Benji glanced up from his phone, “The venue’s a ten-minute car journey from the hotel. Limo’s booked. Oh, and by the way, De Luca’s just told me that Johnny, Portia, Gregor, and Padme arrived earlier.”

Johnny, Portia, Gregor, and Padme were actors from the movie. I was secretly glad there would be other co-stars to take the spotlight from me. I’d done this dance so many times before, but then I’d had Erik on my arm to calm my anxiety. Erik was gregarious and loved to party. He had the charisma to work a room effortlessly at events and charity galas. Without him I felt…rudderless, adrift.

“Enough now! Out, out the lot of you! Go to your own rooms, I want some privacy,” Jack said, shooing the entourage out the door. Roz pointed a witchy finger at me and said,

“Keep your damn phone on. I’m already stressed enough with…everything, I don’t need my client to be incommunicado again.”

When they’d all gone, I felt a welcome hand squeezed my shoulder. “Wanna hit the gym?” Jack asked softly, pulling me from a daze. “I feel like I’ve been sitting on my arse for far too long. It’s either an hour at the gym or I’m booking in for a Brazilian butt lift,” he joked.

Jack’s sense of humour caught me unawares again and I barked out a laugh. Jack’s upbringing was completely different from my American high school education. He’d trained at the Royal School of Ballet from eleven to seventeen before he decided he wanted to be an actor. He’d then attended the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, where a lot of iconic British actors studied. And so, Jack Boyd had developed a sinfully hot dancer’s body, sculpted arms and chest, strong thighs, and a shapely, muscular…biteable ass.

“We wouldn’t want your perfect ass turning to fat,” I said drolly.

“You think I’ve got a perfect ass?” Jack asked sounding surprised. As our eyes met a flash of heat ran through me.

“Duh!” I said goofily. “I guess seeing you in shorts could take my mind off my car crash life for a while.”

“Well, never let it be said that I’m not benevolent. I do what I can to help the needy!” he replied dryly, and then we both laughed.

Jack vanished into his bathroom and I scrolled through the messages on my phone to see several were from my mom, Martha, and my sister Beth. I’d need to take a moment to reply, just to reassure them I was okay. Erik had an eclectic circle of ultra-wealthy friends, Russian oligarchs, Silicon Valley billionaires, celebrity artists, designers, and writers. Viewing messages from people in our wider social circle made my skin crawl. These were people Erik and I knew from the gallery openings, the galas, the charity events. I regretted giving any of them my number. I’d need to get a new phone SIM when I got home. My to-do list on my return to NYC was getting longer!

“Nate…oi…Nate!” Jack called. Seems I’d zoned out. “Sorry, what?” I looked up from my phone to see Jack had strolled out of the bathroom wearing only a white jock with red straps. My mouth watered and my eyes bugged out like in a cartoon as he bent over and rummaged through his suitcase. I swear I had emotional whiplash at this stage. With a provocative chuckle he called,

“Off you go, get your gym kit,” Jack prompted. The view of Jack shamelessly naked, apart from a jockstrap was melting my brain. His ass is so fucking perfect!

I’d discovered during our time working together that Jack understood his provocative power like no one else I’d ever known. He was sensual, and alluring, but not sexually aggressive. There was a hint of playful boyish innocence thrown into the mix. Jack had flicked the switch and change from my goofball British friend to giving full spotlight allure with those sinful chocolate bedroom eyes. When he looked at me in that way, I was gone. This time was no different. My brain short-circuited and again, I became exasperated, tongue-tied, and flustered in his presence. Don’t get me wrong, his playful flirtation was always lovely and disarming, but he didn’t actually mean it, right? Flirting was a game, just a part of his nature.

I watched as Jack stepped into compression shorts and the fabric was pulled up and over his incredible ass. Was he really doing it in slow motion with a bass heavy soul soundtrack or was that just my imagination?

“I’ll, um…yeah…I’ll…uh…go get changed!” I muttered dazedly.

****

CHAPTER FOUR

Nate

I like beautiful things, and I enjoy looking good, but during the Vogue photo shoot what I’d loved most of all was seeing Jack playing up for the camera. His thirst-trap ass filling out tailored trousers to perfection was a sight to behold. Throughout the shoot Jack checked-in, making sure I was comfortable with our more intimate poses. He had a knack of making me laugh just as Max Erdmann was ready to shoot, giving the photographs energy, humour, and intimacy. Suffice to say, the photographer was overjoyed with the shoot.

I returned to my suite afterward, as there was time for a power nap before I had to get ready for the red carpet. Finally relaxed enough to sleep, I closed the curtains, removed my sweats and the hoodie and melted into the enormous bed. I reached for my phone to set an alarm for three hours later when it suddenly rang in my hand. I stared at the screen to see an unknown number. I should have ignored it, but I pressed the button to accept the call.

“Hello?”

“Nate…that you, boy?” a raspy, shaky American voice asked.

“Who is this?”

“Newt…God, I’m so sorry…for everything, for the mischief,” the man said, sounding distressed, even tearful.

The comment was baffling. “Erik is that you?”

“I left it too long. I might not make it this time. I’m so sorry…it’s—” then the line was cut.

I lay there confused and unsettled by the call. The man had called me boy. Erik never called me his boy. The man was in distress and the voice sounded familiar, but I don’t think it was my husband. I’d heard him drunk, stoned, unwell, and through a range of emotional states. Who was that? How had a stranger gotten hold of my phone number, and what the hell was he apologizing for? A coil of unease writhed in my gut. I clicked the screen to call back but the number was dead. Weird. I absently set my alarm, then placed my phone on the nightstand and rolled over. The feeling of unease remained, but I needed to sleep and couldn’t allow myself to dwell on it any longer.

The scent of oils from the massage was still on my skin, the smell eliciting memories of the duo massage and the noises Jack made as the therapist worked on the back of his thighs and his glutes. I was glad we’d lain on our front at the time because I’d popped wood at hearing his groans of satisfaction. Getting hard was a minor miracle for me these days. My libido was depleted and sex with Erik hadn’t been on the agenda for so long that we just didn’t bother trying. Jack’s groans had sent a bolt of need through me. And now, in bed with thoughts of Jack, I was like a steel rod for him. Interesting! I gripped my thick length and with a few tugs thinking about Jack’s perfect ass and his jockstrap, I brought myself off at lightning speed, and then I fell into a deep, satisfied sleep.

****