“Exactly. There’s way more to this, and you know it.”
Later that day, I toss a crumpled up sheet of paper into the wastebasket and swivel my chair so I face Oliver. He’s slumped back on the couch with his navy tie loosened as we review contracts. “Let me ask you a question,” I say.
“Hit me.”
“You ever fallen in love when getting a blow job?”
Oliver cracks up, his hand on his belly. “Oh dear Lord. You have come to the right man with that inquiry.”
“That so?”
“Oh, yes,” he says confidently. “I’ve fallen in love when getting them, and when giving them. But that’s not all. I’ve also seen God, witnessed angels, traveled to the stars, and seen the light of distant planets.” I roll my eyes, but Oliver’s not done. He sits up straighter. “I’ll have you know I’ve also walked through the pearly gates and back.”
“You’ve died and gone to heaven and back all from giving and getting head?”
He laughs deeply. “No, no, no. During the heavenly experience, I was absolutely the recipient. Bloke had the most astonishing—”
I hold up a hand. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know what was so astonishing about—”
Oliver jumps back in, a quizzical look on his features. “About his tongue?” he asks, 100 percent deadpan.
“You’re the worst.”
He wiggles his eyebrows and sticks out his tongue, flicking it around.
Dragging my hands through my hair, I mutter, “Why do I even ask you this shit?”
Oliver taps his chin as if in deep thought. “Hmm. Let me guess. Might it be because you fell in love during a blow job today?”
I sigh heavily, then I smile stupidly.
I did fall in love during a blow job. Only it wasn’t because of the astonishing friction or the magnificent deep throating. But trust me, her ability to go deep is, indeed, astonishing. What did it for me was her passion. Her zest, if you will. She wanted it to be amazing for me, and after what I put her through eight years ago, that’s saying something.
It says something about her. About her heart. About her willingness to try again. She’s all in when it comes to starting over. She surprised me at my fucking office with a striptease and some oral loving to say she was sorry for something she didn’t even need to apologize for. But she did it anyway, and I loved the gesture.
Am I falling in love through my dick?
That’s not how I see it. A man puts himself at a woman’s mercy with a blow job. On the surface, I have the power. She’s on her knees, my hands are in her hair, and I’ve got her where I want her.
But no.
During a blow job, a woman holds all the cards. She’s got a man’s most valuable possession in her mouth, and next to her teeth.
To top it off, Delaney had me by the goddamn balls. Literally.
And like that, I surrendered to her, and she gave me the best time ever, even though I’m the asshole who broke her heart.
Now, I hope to hell I’m the man she lets back in.
And make no mistake, I want her heart badly.
How to win it is the big question.
21
Tyler
* * *
When I leave Craig Buckley’s office that afternoon, you’d have to wipe the grin off my face with a street sweeper.
My go-big-or-go-home strategy worked. It performed like a Bugatti hugging the curves on the Autobahn. We won nearly every point, making this one beautiful deal for Jay Benator. I punch the air when I exit the revolving glass doors of the Midtown office building then call Jay on my cell phone.
As soon as he answers, I dive in. “Congratulations! You are now the lead prime-time show on LGO, and you’ll be getting a fifteen percent raise.”
“Holy shit.” His voice is rich with elation and relief all at once. “I can’t believe it.” He repeats those words over and over as I tell him the details.
“You did it, man,” I say with a grin as wide as the traffic jam near Times Square.
“No, you did it, Tyler. I’m amazed,” he says, awestruck.
I like having a client who’s amazed. We took a risk and it paid off. Proof that sometimes you have to swing for the fences.
We chat for a little longer, and then I call Clay. I give him the good news as I walk up Broadway through the late afternoon crowds, feeling like I own this city. I might even be strutting, and that’s fine with me. I’m in one helluva New York groove. My cousin has been a fantastic mentor, guiding me through the ins and outs of entertainment law and giving me the opportunity to pursue riskier opportunities.
When we’re through, my workday is officially over, so I head to Speakeasy, a bar in Midtown where I’m slated to meet Simon. We toast to the good news as we grab some stools at the counter.
Then he clears his throat. “I’ve got some good news, too.”
“You do?”
The man nods with a grin. “I asked Abby to move in with me, and she said yes.”
“Excellent,” I say, and I knock fists with him. “You’ve got the whole happy Brady Bunch thing going on, don’t you?”
“Life with my ladies truly couldn’t be any more perfect.” Simon has a five-year-old daughter, and I can already tell that Simon, Abby, and Hayden will be the happiest blended family around.
“Wait. Don’t tell me you need moving help.”
Simon laughs and shakes his head. “Pretty sure my phone still works.”