Page 61 of Cleats and Pumps

“Okay, tell me about your opinion ofAlec in Wanderlust, and Alec in particular.”

I spent another hour asking him as many questions as I could think up. Mostly pulling out his emotions. I might not be a journalist who covers Broadway, but I knew for a fact people would be much more interested in the emotional side of things than the grunts and short answers my sports folks were accustomed to.

He studied his lines later that day while I sat cuddled up against him, typing my article. Occasionally, I’d stop and ask him something I missed and needed an answer for. Something I knew would make the article better.

By the time I was done writing, I knew it was one of the best articles I’d ever written... mostly because I had so much insight into the guy I was writing about.

I double-checked my work, making sure I didn’t have any pesky typos, then sent the first quarter of the article to theNew York Press, knowing of all the publications out there, this one would be the most likely to scoop up the story.

It wasn’t just a sports article, or an article about a new and upcoming Broadway star. No, this was about so much more. I’d already spoken to my contact at thePressand had been told whom to send it to. If I was lucky, they’d have already told them I was sending this their way.

I closed my laptop then and put it aside before snuggling deeper against Amos. He opened his arms and let me all butcrawl onto him. God, I would never get used to how amazing that felt… how right I felt when I was cuddled into Amos’s arms.

I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep until Amos picked me up into those huge muscular arms, causing me to yelp like a surprised puppy.

“Amos, what’re you doing?” I asked, chuckling.

“Wooing my man.”

I slipped my arms around him, not even worrying about how ridiculous this must look, and laid my head onto his gloriously thick shoulder. He laid me onto the bed and began taking off my clothes. Of course, this proved too much for me, so I sat up, only to be pushed back down.

“Stop, this is the catch-up stuff I was talking about. Now, let me have my way with you.”

I shook my head, but I was putty in Amos’s hands. As my unbuttoned shirt fell open, he began to undo my jeans before surprising me when he flipped the pants off in one swift motion, taking my underwear down most of the way with them.

He quickly dispatched them, too, and began to move his tongue up my torso toward my neck. My heart soared through the night as we made love again and again.

Damn, I thought, as I lay happily ravaged under Amos, his glorious weight pushing me into the mattress. He’d already begun to snore in my ear, and I smiled. Luckily, his snores weren’t the kind that could wake the dead. Instead, the sound was a soft rumble that quickly lulled me to sleep beside him.

I was happier and more sated than I had ever been in my life once again.

46

Amos

“OhmyfuckingGod,you’re trying to kill me,” I said to the tiny sprite of a woman who told me to do the dance routine one more time. We’d been doing itonce morefor at least an hour.

She laughed. “Come on, big guy, you got this: five, six, seven, eight.” I barely had time to think before she counted down the routine… again.

Somehow, some way, we must’ve done something she approved of, although for the life of me, I couldn’t tell what I’d done differently, but mercifully, she was about to let us go. “Struggling a bit?” she asked as she came over to me.

I pinned her with my look. “Listen, I’ve played on the NFL for years. I’ve run up and down a football field until I literally puked from exhaustion. I’m not afraid of you.”

She leaned back and laughed. “Got it. Okay, group, this mister says he’s got more in him, so let’s take it from the top.”

My mouth fell open, and I know I must’ve groaned. One of the background dancers sidled up next to me and pushed my mouth shut. “Next time, beg for your life.”

“There won’t be a next time. I’ll be dead,” I exclaimed to hers and a lot of other people’s laughter.

Then the evil fairy, forget sprite, began the torture session again.

By the time I got back to Ford’s flat, I was exhausted. Luckily for me, he’d moved in with Dorian, and I was able to sublease his flat, which was close to the theater. Close was absolutely essential, since I tended to fall asleep even the few blocks from the theater to here.

“Wow, you look exhausted,” Tommy said as I came in and collapsed on the sofa.

“Dude, you will never understand. I swear they want me dead!”

Tommy just chuckled, like he did any night he came over and handed me a sandwich he must’ve bought from some fantastic place, ’cause it smelled way too good to be homemade. Besides, Tommy wasn’t that much of a better cook than me.

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