Meet Me in Venus: A Steamy Second-Chances Romance Novella

Chapter 3- Ruined

Riya

I'd stand naked in front of Jacob all night just to watch him watch me.

The second we'd left each other at the airport after the tour, I put an alert on my phone to notify me of every time he was mentioned. Eventually, as he became more popular, I had to shut it off. But I checked on him every day.

Every day his image was plastered over the tabloids and the internet. I studied him, becoming a student of Jacob Pressler, much like tens of million others around the world. I knew every song, watched every video. I stalked his social media and bought every tune he sold. Where was he? Who was he with? What was he doing?

It fed my ego and my sense of hope that of all the women he'd been linked to—the red carpet dates, the fun in the sun with other celebs dates, the obvious set ups by his studio—never once did he look at anyone the way he had looked at me that summer. And how he looked at me now, at the Hotel Venus.

That pleased me.

But making me happier was the way his body looked, stretched out on the bed, naked. Like a feast laid out on a table, just waiting for me. Gone was the long lanky body of the teen I'd met in California. Now he had a man's body, a body perfected to please the outside world and sell music to fans who crushed on him. Here, in my penthouse, I couldn't wait for that awesome body to please me.

My hands wouldn't stay off him. It had been so long. So damn long, since I touched him, or anyone. I ran a fingernail down his long body, watching his skin jump from the contact.

I'd tried dating, but nobody stirred emotion in me. My effort with the opposite sex was so dismal that my sister thought I was a lesbian. I didn't argue. Maybe I was. Maybe there were no men for me. Maybe Jacob had ruined me for all men, by filling and then sealing my heart so that no one else could penetrate it.

It was my idea to break up and to stop contact. I didn't think a long-distance relationship would work. But it was also me who texted him a week after our split to beg him to forget my dumb ideas and come back to me.

For whatever reason, he didn't answer that text. I'm sure he would have, had he gotten the message. I guessed that his people intercepted it. That wasn't a bad thing, because in my heart I knew that if we were meant to be, it would happen. Me begging him to come back via text wasn't how fate wanted our lives to pan out.

Still, I couldn't stop myself. I'd tried texting a couple more times, but soon the endless change of the cell phone number started. When you're famous like Jacob, your number changes constantly.

I probably could have reached him through my agent or my industry contacts. As confident as I was that he'd want to be with me, the fact was that I was in India, and he was in America. In order for our dreams to come true, that fact couldn't be altered.

Here, though? Venus? It had to have been arranged by fate. His press said he was vacationing with family in the South Pacific for the holidays. I had no idea...

I sighed, taking him in, still not sure it was all real.

Jacob.

My Jacob.

I love you, Riya. If we never cross paths again, I want you to know that. Know that every minute of every day, no matter where we are, that I love you.

We will cross paths again, Jacob Pressler. Have faith. Trust fate.

I walked along the edge of the bed, studying him as he lay there watching. I touched his cheek, his chin, his neck, down over his smooth chest, his belly. I appreciated his arousal but didn't touch, tracing a path over his thigh, down his leg. My own body quivered, tingled, begged me to let him in.