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"It may be good for us all to have a conversation of how this is exactly going to work. But I realized a lot of things on the little adventure we just had. Biggest of which is that I just want you to be happy, I just want you in any way that I can, and that I also want these assholes to be happy as well," he says gesturing at Beckham. "If they feel even half as in love with you as I do, they would be miserable for the rest of eternity living without you. I couldn't damn my family to that."
I give him a soft kiss, so overcome with how much I don't deserve these beautiful men. I'm aware of Beckham's eyes on me as I do so, and I know that this little arrangement will take some getting used to.
"I'll go talk to Damon," Mason says, walking towards the door. "We just were a little worried you had disappeared again when you didn't return back to the penthouse and neither of you answered your phones. Try to not worry us anymore, okay?"he asks, a dark shadow passing over his face. I know he's thinking of the months I've been gone. I nod and he leaves the apartment.
Beckham walks up behind me and wraps his arms around me.
"I'm going to have to take their keys away," he mutters into my hair.
I laugh despite the fact that I'm still crying.
"Everything is going to be alright,"he tells me, stroking my arms. Despite what just happened, I can feel myself heating up, beginning to crave him one again.
"Let me distract you," he whispers to me as he sweeps me into his arms and carries me back to his bedroom where he distracts me for a very, very long time.
Lying in his arms later on though, listening to his steady breathing, I wonder how I could possibly be able to keep them all.
Chapter 23
Mason
I had to promise my first-born child to Damon and Beckham, but somehow Eva and I are on our way to Paris. I'm going to be playing the concert that I cancelled while she was gone. I still can't believe that we're here, on my private jet together. Despite all that has happened, it feels a little like déjà vu. She's fallen asleep, like she has on every flight I've taken her on. Her head is nestled against my lap, her gold locks spread out behind her like something out of a fantasy, and I'm finally writing for the first time since I found out that she was gone.
The words fly out of me. She inspires me like no one else has. She's my muse, my goddess…my everything. I feel at ease, there's no hunger gnawing at me. It feels strange to feel satiated after the constant hunger I had while she was gone. I feel free.
"Can I see what you're working on?" she asks me in a groggy voice as she cuddles up to me. I pull her into my side and bury my face in her hair. She's my favorite kind of scent, I can't get enough. I can actively feel the energy flooding into me and once again I'm amazed by what a gift she is. I think of how I nearly starved to death being away from her. She won't ever know what I went through while she was gone, but it's a memory that won't soon go away.
"You'll find out soon enough," I tell her, not able to stop myself from grabbing a kiss. She surprises me when she fists my hair, keeping my lips locked on hers. Heat rushes straight to my dick. For months I've craved any kind of intimacy from her and the feel of her soft skin against mine, after so many nights of trying to remember what it felt like, lights a fire under my skin.
Our kissing becomes frantic and somehow my shirt is removed and her fingers are tracing all over the tattoos that I seem to always have had. She stops when she notices the change to the tattoo over my heart which used to read "Lust over love." She gives a soft sigh and kisses it gently. Before she disappeared, I had gotten it changed while on tour. It now reads "Everlasting Love" with "Eva" written underneath.
"Someday I want to know what each of these tattoos mean," she tells me.
"I would like to know that myself," I tell her.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure where a lot of these came from. I just have always had them for as long as I can remember," I tell her. I watch her eyes widen at how old I must be to not remember that.
I begin to kiss her to distract her from the fact that she is dating an old man and it soon escalates into me on top of her with her shirt off. She's wearing a simple black bra that highlights her gold skin. It's somehow the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I skim my nose down the side of her neck and she gasps with pleasure. I massage her breasts on top of her bra but I don't try to take her bra off. I want our first time to be special, whether it's on this trip or not.
"We need to stop," I tell her, my whole body cursing at me as I say the words. She looks at me in surprise but begins to softly kiss down my neck, ignoring my words.
"That sounds like a very bad idea," she whispers, and I agree with her wholeheartedly. There's a confidence about her lately that is so fucking sexy. I didn't think it was possible for me to be more attracted to her. I've always found the fact that she is so reserved and shy to be an enchanting quality about her, but this new addition to Eva's repertoire is perfectly heartstopping.
"The first time I hear your sweet little cries as I make you fall apart beneath me is going to be somewhere where I know that the flight attendant can't hear them too," I whisper.
Her eyes grow wide with that statement and she sits up, frantically pulling on her shirt. I laugh at her panic but just enjoy the show as the last sliver of her perfect skin disappears from view.
***
Eva's eyes are huge when she sees the penthouse we're staying in at the Four Seasons. Upon entering our room and dropping our bags on the floor, she runs to the balcony, bypassing everything else in order to gape at the view of the Eiffel Tower. She stands there with her mouth slightly open and tears glistening in her eyes.
"It's beautiful," she gasps, not taking her eyes off of it. I come up behind her and put my arms around her. "I see something more beautiful," I tell her, squeezing her against me. I know its cheesy the second it comes out of my mouth but I can't help it. It's hard to even marvel at one of the world's greatest landmarks with her in front of me. Her reaction does make me excited for the surprise I've booked for her after the show though.
We call up for room service and her eyes light up when carts and carts of different food are wheeled in under silver lids. I remembered Beckham bragging about a few picnics he made for her where he basically ordered all the food that New York had to offer. I figured I should try the same thing with Paris food.
"Is this all for us?" she asks in wonder, as the waiters begin lifting up the lids showing an array of pastries, cheeses, fruit, and French bread that represent some of the best food that Paris has to offer.
