Belonging (20 page)

His voice was gentle when he said, “It
wasn’t a criticism, love. I just wondered why you’d done
it.”

I broke eye contact and murmured,
“Because that’s the way I was trained. A good blow job shouldn’t
rely on using my hands to increase stimulation. I put them behind
my back so I could focus on how I was sucking you. But I can
change. I can do it however you want.” My contentedness fell away,
replaced with a feeling of disappointment in myself. I’d wanted
this to be so good for him.

“What do you mean, trained? By whom?”
His voice was still so soft.

“My first boyfriend. He taught me how
to pleasure a man. But like I said, I can do it differently. You
can teach me what you like.”

“How old were you, Gianni?”

“Seventeen,” I admitted
quietly.

“How old was he?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“Bloody hell,” he whispered. “No
wonder you think nothing of our age difference.”

“It’s not like it sounds,” I told him,
still avoiding eye contact. “He didn’t force me or take advantage
of me or anything. He actually took good care of me.”

“Did your family know about
him?”

“Not until later. When I was nineteen,
I moved in with him. They didn’t know it had already been going on
for a couple years at that point. I knew how it looked and knew
they’d jump to conclusions about him, so I thought it was best to
just keep it quiet at first.”

Zan asked, “How long were you involved
with him?”

“Four years.”

“What ended it?”

I shrugged and said, “He just got
tired of me after a while.”

“What did you do then?”

“I moved back home. I was there for
about nine months before my next lover asked me to move in with
her.”

“With
her
. You’re bisexual like I am,” Zan
murmured.

I nodded. “My stronger preference is
for men, that’s who I’ve been with ninety percent of the time, but
I’ve also been with a total of three women. My most recent real
relationship was with a woman, actually. She was kind to me and
treated me with respect, and I was so sad when she died. Later on,
I was completely humiliated when her nephews accused me of being a
whore, took me to court and took away everything she’d given me,
including a house that I was quite attached to. Six months after
she passed, I got involved with one more woman. She only kept me a
few weeks though, and got sick of me in the middle of a
Mediterranean cruise. That was special. I flew myself home after
she found herself a hotter, younger guy.”

“You really know how to pick ‘em,” Zan
murmured.

“Actually, I never pick anyone. They
pick me.” The conversation was starting to make me feel pretty
vulnerable and I wished I wasn’t naked, but I made no move to get
up and get dressed since Zan was still holding me.

“Have all your relationships been with
people older than you?” I nodded again. Since I still wasn’t
looking at him, he put a fingertip under my chin and tilted my head
up gently, until I made eye contact. “Why do you think that
is?”

“That dynamic just feels comfortable
to me. I dated guys my age a few times, but I just didn’t get that
same feeling of security or of being cared for.” As soon as he let
go of my chin, I dropped my gaze again, putting my head on his
chest.

He mulled that over for a while before
asking quietly, “What is it that you like about me, Gianni? It
sounds like my age is the only thing that would fit your criteria.
I doubt I’d inspire feelings of security, and it’s far more likely
that you’d be the one taking care of me if this grows into a
relationship, not the other way around.”

“It’s not a question of totaling up a
series of checkmarks to see if you make the cut. I’m incredibly
attracted to you, Zan. It’s that simple.”

“Well, that’s quite
mutual.”

After a pause, I said hesitantly as I
held on to him, “Maybe...maybe if this grows into something we
could take care of each other.”

“
You’re so sweet,” he told
me, holding me a little tighter. “I would never in a million years
have expected you to be so shy and vulnerable once I got you in
bed. I also never expected to get you in bed, incidentally, but
that’s a different point entirely.”

“I can try to be more assertive during
sex if you want. I know not everyone likes guys that are a hundred
percent submissive. Just tell me what you need and I’ll do
it.”

“That wasn’t a criticism,
love, and I don’t want you to bend to the will of others, not mine
or anyone else’s. I want you to enjoy yourself and just be who you
are. What is it that
you
want, Gianni?”

“I want to make you happy and I want
you to feel incredibly good.”

“What if I want exactly the same thing
for you?”

I looked up at him, searching his
green eyes. “Pleasing you will give me so much pleasure. I don’t
just pretend to be submissive for the sake of others. Making you
feel good really is what I need.”

“The term
submissive
worries me,
because it suggests that I in turn should be a Dom, and that’s not
who I am.”

I said, “There’s more than one
definition of a submissive. Mine doesn’t have anything to do with
whips and pain.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I should mention that I’m almost one
hundred percent a bottom, though. I hope that’s okay.”

“Fine with me. But out of curiosity,
how did that work when you were dating women?”

I looked away again. “A woman can
absolutely sexually dominate a man. I did whatever they asked of
me, whether that meant letting them fuck me with a dildo or fucking
them when they told me to.”

After another pause, Zan asked, “Why
is it that you can’t look me in the eye when you’re talking about
your sex life?”

“Because I know how all of this
sounds.”

“How does it sound?”

“Some members of my family think I’m a
prostitute. Not all of them, but some. They’ve watched me give
myself to one older lover after another and let them take care of
me in all ways, including financially. That’s not what I am, but
I’ve gotten used to being judged for my relationships.”

“So, you’re afraid to maintain eye
contact because you think you’re going to see judgment in my eyes?”
When I shrugged, he said softly, “Look at me, Gianni.”

I did as I was told. Zan smiled at me,
his green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not only am I not
judging, I completely get it. I spent my early twenties with a
boyfriend eleven years older than I was. In a lot of ways, he
defined my sexuality for me, and I let him because I had no idea
who I was at that point. After we broke up, I tried anything and
everything in an effort to figure out what I really wanted. I dated
men and women interchangeably and even got married a couple times.
Oh, and I was in a ménage relationship for four months at some
point in the early nineties. Can’t forget that one.”

“Really, a ménage? How’d that work
out?”

“Not well at all. I’m crap at
sharing.”

I grinned and said, “So, after all
that, what did you learn about yourself?”

He smiled again. “Not a bleedin’
thing. Some of it was pretty fun, though. I don’t know why I got so
lucky, by the way, and somehow never wound up with a social disease
after all I did. Luck favors the stupid, apparently.”

“You, um...you were married to someone
else when you got Christian’s mom pregnant,” I said. It wasn’t a
question, but I really wondered what he had to say about
that.

“I’m surprised he told
you.”

“He didn’t, actually, I just did the
math. After I got the job assisting you, I watched a documentary
about your life. A quarter of it discussed your marriage to that
actress, Dev Holland, I guess because she’s so famous. Then I
realized those years were right when Christian was
born.”

“What made you want to watch a
documentary about me?”

“I was trying to make sense of you. It
didn’t help.”

Zan grinned at that. “If you want to
know anything, feel free to ask. I won’t ever keep secrets from
you, Gianni.”

“Thanks. But...I mean, your past isn’t
really my business.”

“Sure it is. You deserve to know
exactly who you’re getting involved with. As you’ll find out, I’ve
done many things I’m not proud of, including cheating on both of my
wives. There was so much I didn’t understand back then, including
what it meant to be in a committed relationship. Blaming it on the
drugs and alcohol would be a cop-out. The truth is, I was an
immature, self-entitled wanker. I don’t think I started out that
way, but that’s what fame did to me. All these people were telling
me I was something special, and after a while, I guess I started to
believe it.”

“That doesn’t sound like
you.”

“I like to think I’ve been in a
long-term dipshit recovery program. One thing solitude does is give
you plenty of time to reflect. Having a child put a lot of things
into perspective too, and taught me what it meant to truly love
someone. When Christian was born, his mother didn’t want me to be a
part of his life, which should tell you about the type of person I
was back then. She said it was because she didn’t want him to grow
up hounded by the paparazzi, and that’s partly true. But she also
thought I was too much of a narcissistic arse to be a good dad. She
figured I’d tire of him eventually and abandon him, the same way I
left her.”

“But you didn’t abandon either of
them. I know you still help both her and your son financially to
this day, because I overheard him talking about it once. And
Christian told me how you took him in no questions asked when he
showed up on your doorstep at fifteen.”

Zan grinned a little. “I didn’t do
everything wrong, only most of it. I like to think I’ve gotten
better with time.”

“You have. You’re not even sort of
this guy you’re describing,” I told him, and he kissed my
shoulder.

“It’s kind of you to give me the
benefit of the doubt. I hope that continues to be your opinion as
you get to know me.”

His lids were getting heavy, so I
said, “Do you want to get under the covers and nap for a while? You
already seemed tired before we came upstairs, and then I engaged
you in this long conversation.”

“It’s been an absolute joy to talk to
you. I regret being too stupid to manage that all those months you
were coming to my house.”

“Well, we can continue after you’ve
rested a bit,” I told him.

He helped me pull the blanket out from
beneath us. Once we were tucked under it, worry appeared in his
eyes and he asked, “Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I will, Zan. I’ll be right
here.”

He looked relieved. “I’m sorry to be
so clingy, but this will be the first time in ages that I’ll be
waking up in an unfamiliar place.”

I touched his cheek and said, “I know,
and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Chapter
Twelve

I’d been true to my word. Zan ended up
sleeping all afternoon and through the night, and awoke to find his
head on my lap and one of his arms strewn across my thighs. He
blinked a few times as he tried to process where he was and what
was happening.

At some point I’d dressed in a pair of
sweats and a hoodie, and was propped up against the headboard with
my phone, texting back and forth with Yosh. I’d gone through my
many messages while Zan slept and texted everyone who’d contacted
me after seeing the airport videos. Overnight, the story had
absolutely exploded, and Zan’s reappearance was the main topic on
most of the major news outlets.

“Good morning,” I said with a smile,
reaching down and brushing his long, dark hair back from his face.
It was shot through with just a bit of grey, which I found really
sexy.

He sat up and looked around. “Oh hell,
is it morning? I can’t believe I slept that long.”

“You obviously needed it. Yesterday
was pretty harrowing.”

“You’ve been here the entire time,
haven’t you?” When I nodded, Zan said, “I’m sorry you had to
babysit me like that. It must have been incredibly boring for
you.”

“Not at all, I was perfectly capable
of entertaining myself while you slept. I was just chatting with my
best friend Yoshi. Hang on, let me say goodbye to him.” I shot Yosh
a message and put my phone on the nightstand.

“You must have missed dinner, though.
And breakfast.”

“Nope. Jessie brought my meals up for
me.”

“I still feel awful. You were
basically held hostage in your room because of my
neediness.”

I grinned at that and told him,
“That’s pretty overstated.”

“It’s true, though. You should have
woken me. Or just ignored what I said and gone about your
business.”

“This was right where I wanted to
be.”