Magic Mansion by Jordan Price (best fiction books to read .txt) 📕

“I’m sure that’s exactly what someone out there is doing. Painting this whole thing as the magicians’ equivalent of a casting couch.”

A glance at the monitor, at the enraptured look on Ricardo’s face as Professor Topaz spoke to him, told Iain differently. “I don’t think so. Ricardo’s obviously head over heels. Plus the Professor’s not the type. He’s…elegant.”

Marlene shrugged. Even hearing that her favorite contestant wasn’t so bad after all didn’t seem to cheer her up.

“Don’t you think it’s weird,” Iain said, “that the Professor was the one we outed, but Ricardo’s getting the brunt of the flak?”

“In retrospect? No. It pisses off the audience when they feel they’ve been lied to. And the ones who fell in love with the whole Ricardo-and-Sue romance will feel betrayed.”

Iain took one final onscreen look at the covert snapshot of the Professor and Ricardo, then closed the browser. “I’m ready to call it a night. How about you?”

“I want to count the votes one more time.”

Iain stood and stretched, and wondered if he might actually have time for a little Call of Duty before he turned in. “I’ll have my PA count it up. You don’t need to do it yourself.”

“It’s just that it doesn’t make sense.”

Iain sensed a time-suck keeping him from his apartment and his game…but he couldn’t resist. “What doesn’t?”

“Jia’s score.”

“Good…or bad?”

“Nowhere near as high as it should have been. You saw her move—she was so smooth it looked like CGI.”

Iain thought back to the crowd. “They were scared of her, Marlene, plain and simple. Jia looks great on camera, but in person, she’s an intimidating little ball-buster.”

“But she looked gorgeous. And that thing she did with the fans and the ropes was so freaky.” Marlene sighed. “You’re right. Jia’s act was made to be seen from a stage. Not up close.”

“Not that it matters.” Iain flicked the trailer lights on and off a few times in an attempt to get Marlene to take a hint and go home. “You know the advantage they’ll win from today’s challenge is basically bogus.”

___

Stay in bed…or hit the gym? It was a tough call. John never worked out, and he looked great. Still, Ricardo had been diligent about his regime for the past twenty years…it would be a shame to start letting it slip now. The sorry little room that they called a “gym” was thankfully unoccupied. Ricardo warmed up with some shadow boxing, did his crunches on a yoga ball, then moved on to the treadmill. A brisk 4.5 walk there, a 6.0 jog for five minutes, and once his heart was thrumming good and fast, jab-jab-jab at the “up” button to take it to a nice, sustainable 7.5 run….

He was so focused on his run that the feel of someone mounting his treadmill behind him nearly sent him flying right back off…until his assailant spoke in that low, mellifluous voice that pervaded his daydreams. “I’ll need to get better at enticing you to stay in bed.”

Ricardo hopped onto the rails, breathing hard, while the belt sped by between his (and John’s) feet. “You’re always telling me to be careful,” he chided.

“This is nothing.” John pressed into his back, buried his nose in Ricardo’s hair, and breathed him. The belt whirred past, motor working. “You’re totally engaged in what’s going on around you right now. Every bit of your attention is focused. You’re living your Truth. Now is the time…you’re safe.”

Ricardo let his head drop back and press into John’s shoulder. John grabbed his damp hair, pulled his head more sharply to the side, and swiped a long, wet lick down the tendons on his neck—tasting his salt, his sweat. Ricardo stifled a moan. It wasn’t so much that he’d expected John to be timid in bed…just that the full force of his attention would be enough to sweep anybody away. And every time they came together, John managed to take things to yet another level, as if there was no end to the depths in him waiting to be explored. “My attention’s focused, all right,” Ricardo said. “On that bulge you’re pressing into my butt.”

John clenched Ricardo’s hair harder, and allowed his breath to play along the side of Ricardo’s throat. A moan did escape Ricardo, then. And he wondered if John would actually try to go through with it, and do him right there on that big, vibrating machine, where anyone might walk in on them. But no. Not only was John sensual, he was patient, too. He placed a single kiss in the curve where Ricardo’s neck met his shoulder, and then raised his head and spoke against Ricardo’s ear. “This morning, when I opened my eyes and you weren’t there, I realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“When we’re done here…when it’s time to go…I can’t see myself waking up without you by my side.”

Ricardo’s heart rate, which had been cooling down to baseline, picked up again. “What do you…?”

“I want you to move in with me.”

“Oh my God.”

“We’d need a bigger place than my—”

Ricardo spun on the rails with the belt whizzing down the center, flung an arm around John and kissed him, landing his mouth somewhere in John’s beard in all his eagerness. “I can’t believe—I mean—yes, of course yes.” He took John’s face in his hands, tenderly now, and kissed him more deliberately, enjoying the tickle of his mustache, savoring his lips. “This is amazing. I can’t wait. I just can’t wait.”

John turned his head and pressed his cheek to Ricardo’s. “Then we have something to look forward to—both of us.”

The thwap of fabric hitting pleather startled Ricardo out of the followup kiss he’d been planning, and he turned to see Kevin Kazan standing by the chest press, where he’d just flung down his towel. “Y’all can do that shit anywhere,” he said. “Why you gotta go at it here? Some of us got work to do.”

Ricardo was so flush with the giddiness of what John had just suggested, he couldn’t