by Layla Hagen
“Umm... well, he knows my brothers took the job of intimidating my dates, so he can just lay back and watch.”
“So, what’s the plan for the next three weeks?” she asks.
“I’ll have phone conferences and live events on Facebook I can do from my living room, and other than that, I’m yours. We’ll have to stay cooped up in my house, though.”
Stolen moments, cooped up in my house, that’s all I can offer her right now, and I hope to God it will be enough.
“That’s such a hardship, I’m telling you. The place is a small palace.”
Yeah, but that palace still has four walls and a six-feet thuja fence surrounding it. Stay inside long enough, and you’ll wish to be anywhere else. But especially after the incident this afternoon, I can’t risk exposing her. She deserves the world damn it, and I want to lay it at her feet. Which gives me an idea.
“I have a proposition for you. How about a getaway in the Bahamas next weekend? Or anywhere else.”
She perks up, her smile even wider than before. Bingo.
“Wait, is that safe?”
“Sure. We’ll rent a villa with private beach access, and not venture out.”
“You’d really just do that? Whisk me away somewhere?”
“I’d do anything for you.”
“Well, I’d love to go. Wow. I haven’t been to the Bahamas. I can’t wait. Also... I can’t wait for you to make good on that heat level eleven kiss.”
I laugh, pinching her arm. “You have to work hard for that.”
She shifts in her seat, bringing her lips to my ear. I grip the steering wheel tight, making a concerted effort not to take my eyes off the road.
She tugs my earlobe between my teeth. “Hard like this?”
“That earns you a seven, at most.”
“You foul creature.”
“I know how to play my cards, Summer.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Summer
In the past, whenever I heard actors say “promotional tour,” I imagined flashy trips, hours upon hours of relaxing in a hotel spa before heading to interviews. Even the weeks before the tour officially starts are packed with phone interviews.
When Preston e-mailed Alex his tour schedule, he shared it with me too, so I know when he’s available to talk. He will run a tight schedule from six o’clock in the morning until ten at night. His free time will consist of fifteen-minute windows every two hours. Except for our amazing trip to the Bahamas, he’s been working all the time.
“Are these work hours even legal?” I ask as we look at his schedule, curled up on his couch, three evenings before he’s set to leave for the tour.
“You sound like Sophie.”
“Well, I happen to think your sister is right.” She and her family stopped by quite a few times over the last few weeks, and on a few occasions, we might have banded together against Alex. For his own good, of course.
“I can’t complain. Paycheck’s decent.” With a chuckle, he adds, “But your indignation is cute.”
“Well, I hope they keep masseurs on call for you. Male masseurs.”
“So if they send sexy blondes, you’d rather I continue suffering from a stiff neck?”
I consider that for a moment. “I’m conflicted. I want the best for you, but I don’t want anyone touching all this.” I run my hands over his shoulders, down his chest. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. I can give you advance massages.”
“I like how your mind works.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “You little opportunist. You just want to touch me.”
I straddle his lap, shaking my head vehemently. “No, those are just fringe benefits. You can’t blame me, though. Not really. You display all this muscle before me, what do you expect me to do?”
“I can’t believe you’re real, and mine. You make me so happy, Summer.”
My heart expands in my chest. “Hmm... define so. Like this?”
I hold my hands in front of my chest, with just a few inches between my palms. Then I move my hands further and further apart, stealing glances at Alex. “You tell me when to stop.”
When my arms are opened wide around me, and I can’t possibly move them further apart, Alex hugs my waist, kissing my neck, nipping it gently. I can feel his grin against my skin, and it’s contagious.
“More than that,” he whispers. My grin widens. “I’ll miss you, Summer.”
God, the things this man makes me feel. Pure bliss spreads through me, reaching every cell. He moves his hands from my waist up to my breasts, fondling them. I have no choice but to call him out on it. “You’re so full of shit. You were accusing me of looking for an excuse to feel you up?”
“Never said I wasn’t looking for one too. You’re quite irresistible, Ms. Bennett.”
“Why, thank you for the compliment, Mr. Westbrook. In case you’re trying to bribe your way into my panties, you already had me at I’ll miss you.”
He tugs my lower lip between his teeth, but the ringtone of his phone interrupts us. He grabs it from the between the cushions, and I sigh.
“Preston is working overtime again,” I comment.
“He works all the time.”
I climb from his lap as he takes the call, putting it on loudspeaker. It seems to be his preferred way to take work calls, but I don’t mind.
“Have you seen Amy’s Facebook Q&A with fans?” Preston asks without further ado. “She couldn’t do more than five minutes before the comment section got out of control.”
“No, but I’ll take a look now at the comments. Wait a second.”
He taps on his phone, pulling up the Facebook app, scrolling. Then Amy’s voice fills the room.
“Hey everyone! Welcome to this Q&A session. Just type your questions in the comments, and I’ll do my best to answer them.”
He mutes the sound, but little icicles pop along the back of my neck. “I’m reading through the comments now. Jesus, they hate us.”
“It’s not a stretch to imagine it will be worse when you’ll be doing promotional appearances together.”
“No, not a stretch,” Alex answers dryly.
“It would be good for the two of you to be seen together before your first appearance. Take her out somewhere. The more public your outing, the better. It’ll make the story of you two still being friends more credible. There’s already talk at the studio of pulling back some of the promotional activities. They’re already writing this off as a box office bomb.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s too early in the game to draw that conclusion.” Alex rises to his feet, locking his eyes on me. I’m hugging my knees, my stomach tight all of a sudden.
“I’m going to meet with them, try and talk them out of it,” Preston says.
“Okay. Thank you. I appreciate this.”
The weight of the world seems to be pressing on Alex’s shoulders after he ends the call, slumping on the couch next to me.
“Comment section so bad, huh?”
“A lot of fans talk about boycotting the movie. They feel duped that we broke up. Some even accuse us that is was all fake just to sell them the first movie. Which is true... was true, at least in the beginning.”
“That’s messed up. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You think Preston’s right, that you should meet with Amy, be seen together?”
I do my best, but my voice still wavers. Alex snaps his gaze to me.
“I don’t want to lie anymore. And it would bother you, wouldn’t it?”
A knot lodges in my throat, making it hard to swallow. I avert my gaze, schooling my voice to be strong, steady. These types of conversations always get nasty. At best, he’ll say I’m possessive. At worst... I don’t want to think about the worst right now.
I try evasive maneuvers. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, it does matter. You matter to me. Summer, I can’t read your mind.”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to read my mind.”
> “Try me. Why are you so tense?”
I realize I’ve been chewing my lower lip and stop. Alex skims his hand from my belly up to my chin.
“Tell me,” he beckons.
“Well, you started by faking things last time too... and then it turned real. I know it’s about friendship now, but...”
My mom always says honesty and communication is the key to a lasting relationship. In my experience, admitting my fears was the kiss of death. But this is Alex. I can trust him. Drawing in a deep breath, I open my mouth. Here goes nothing.
“The thought of you having to go out with her in private, even as friends, makes me want to scratch something.”
“Why was it so hard to admit it?”
I blink twice, shrugging. “Because insecurity isn’t cool?”
He takes my face in both hands, kissing my temple. “I don’t want cool, Summer. I want honest. I want real. Look at me.”
Taking a deep breath, I up my focus to his eyes.
“You’re all I think about. When I imagine the future, you’re all I see.”
Emotions bubble up my throat, even as the surprise of his words leaves me breathless.
“You do?” I manage to croak out.
He nods, more to himself, seeming surprised by his own admission. I read once that feelings have a way of sneaking up on you, growing without asking for permission. I didn’t understand the sentiment until now.
He brings his hands to my waist. I rest my palms on his bicep, loving the feeling of his hard muscles under my fingers. He’s so strong. All man. All mine.
“I’ll tell Preston I won’t do it. Being seen with her in public would fuel speculations, and I don’t want that. We wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place if the studio hadn’t used our personal lives as a marketing stunt. I’m not playing that game anymore. I didn’t want to do it anyway, and even less now that I know how you feel about it.”
He’s being so kind, so understanding. He didn’t react at all like I expected.
“Why are you so accommodating? You’re going to so much trouble for me. I bet there are thousands of girls out there who’d make things so much easier.”
“But I want you. I’ve wanted you since I kissed you the first time. And now we have something, and I don’t mind putting in the work to keep it. It’s worth it. You’re worth it, Summer Bennett. What we have is real and beautiful, and you’re precious.”
I’ve never heard a man talk so honestly, state things so simply. He’s willing to work on what we have, because it’s worth it to him. I’m worth it. I’ve never heard anything more romantic.
And because my romantic streak is wired to my tear ducts, I blink away tears as Alex starts kissing my neck, skimming his hands up until his thumbs are brushing the sides of my breasts. It’s hard for me to think when he does that. Then I don’t want to think at all anymore. I want to feel, to touch, and taste. I want to be wrapped up in him. His hands are everywhere. Moving from my waist up my back, down to my hips, cupping my ass.
He peels off my shirt, then my pants and panties. Poof! My bra goes next, and then he presses his hard—and clothed—body against me. The friction of the bulge in his jeans low on my belly shoots sparks of awareness up my nerves. I push him off me, needing a little space from all the testosterone flying around to make a plan of attack. My favorite place for sexy shenanigans is the bed. But it’s so far away.
The couch is plush and comfy, and it will have to do. When I grab the hem of his shirt, ready to get rid of the pesky thing separating me from his skin, he stops me.
“No!”
I look at him confused. Amusement dances in his eyes.
My fingers itch with the need to remove his clothes. He grabs my ankles, placing them up wide apart on the couch. I feel so exposed, all naked and spread before him, while he’s still fully clothed. My skin burns where he holds my ankles, and I wish he’d touch me in other places, but he doesn’t.
“Touch your inner thighs, Summer. Start with the right one, then move to the other.”
A shiver of excitement runs through me. What’s he playing at? No idea, but that doesn’t stop me from playing along. I let my hand drift down my right inner thigh.
“Slower,” he says. “Draw it out.”
I swallow, fastening the muscles in my belly. I move my fingers toward my center as slowly as possible. My toes curl in anticipation. When I near the apex between my thighs, he murmurs, “Stop.”
I do, more confused than before... and more aroused. He pulls his shirt up, tossing it away.
“If you do exactly what I ask you to, I’ll remove my clothes, one item at a time.”
I nod, drinking in his bare chest. I reach out with my other hand, but he pulls away.
“You’re not touching me. Just yourself. Run your hand down your other thigh, Summer.”
Knowing he’s off-limits drives me insane. All I can do is touch myself, watch him take off his belt, then push down his jeans. When he’s down to his boxers, he takes one of my nipples in his mouth, twirling his tongue around the tight bud until my hips buck.
When he pulls back, the hunger in his eyes sends a physical shock through me. I’m more on display than ever. I’ve been so caught up in him, lured by his promises of revealing more of himself, that I gave no thought to baring myself. On instinct, I clench my knees together. At least, I try to, because he stops me midmotion, kissing down one thigh, eyes locked on mine. Then he stands, takes me in his arms, and carries me upstairs. I kiss and touch every inch of him I can reach, grazing my teeth over his shoulder, biting gently on his neck.
After placing me on the mattress, he pushes down his boxers, then gloves himself with a condom. I watch hungrily, my body aching for him to fill me.
He opens me up, one kiss, one loving and passionate thrust at a time. Despite our wild lovemaking, our gazes remain locked. Our connection intensifies with every second. I’m drunk on it, feel it in every cell. He loves me fast and hard, until I fist the sheets, pulling at them.
“That’s it, beautiful. Don’t hold back. I want to hear you cry out. Don’t hold back on me, baby,” he whispers.
I’m pulsing around him, and I’m so close, and still, the anticipation keeps building and building, spurred by his thrusts, his touch, and his sinfully sexy words, which feel as if they came from a place of trust and affection.
I come hard, pulling him with me. We grind against each other until we wring out every drop of pleasure. As he lays with his cheek on my chest, I tightly wrap my arms around his head, semi-aware that I’m smothering him. Scratch that, I’m fully aware, seeing how I’m having a little trouble catching my breath too. But I can’t help wanting to soak it all in. If I loosen my arms a bit, I think I’d breathe easier. But then we wouldn’t have full frontal contact. Decisions, decisions...
“Want to shower?” he murmurs.
“Nope, I’m not letting you go. Do you mind?”
“I can think of worse things than being trapped between your thighs and arms.”
I pat his shoulder playfully. “For your sake, I hope you can’t think of better things. Or if you do, then lie. Lie through your teeth. Except, I’d know you’d be lying.”
I feel the corner of his mouth lift against my skin. “You’re setting me up for a trap.”
“That’s right. Leaving you just one option. This is amazing or amazing. Take your pick.” I work as much sass in my voice as possible... and it all goes straight down the drain when he flicks his thumb over my nipple.
“You are amazing, Summer.”
“Oooh, you’re so lucky you’re good at charming.”
“What if I wasn’t?”
I don’t miss a beat. “I’d torture you,” I say, wiggling my lower body so he knows I mean business.
“Woman, do you want to kill me?”
“Nah, merely proving a point to my sexy friend down there.”
Laughter reverberates through Alex’s chest, shaking my torso too. I finally release my arms—becau
se we’re both close to choking, not because I’ve got enough of him—and he rolls off me.
“All my clothes are downstairs,” I mutter. “Can you give me a robe? And some panties would be good.”
He grins. “New rule for today: no panties allowed in the house today.”
“I’ll be staying in the yard, then.”
“Watch it, or I’ll add bras to the list of banned items.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and ban all clothing?”
“I might do just that.”
As he hauls me up from the bed, he wraps his arms around me from behind, planting small kisses on my neck. “I’m not even gone, and I already miss you.”
“Oh, Alex.” I turn around, kissing his mouth, fashioning a plan of attack for the next three days.
Step one: I shall smother him with enough kisses so they last him while he’s gone.
Step two: I shall not make this harder for him by admitting how much I’ll miss him too.
And then I’ll brace myself for twenty days without him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Summer
“Yes, yes, yes. Nailed it!” I clap my hands, feeling on top of the world. I just talked the Tate museum into lending little old us a collection. It took me three months to seal the deal, but I can nag like nobody’s business. Pardon my French, I meant convincing. Yeah! That’s the word. Ha! I could sing for joy, but I don’t want the windows cracking from my terrible tunes.
I check my clock and hop off my kitchen counter right away. It’s almost time for my daily phone call with Alex.
The live events started two days into his tour, and there’s no pussy-footing around it: they’re a shitshow. Alex told me that all moderators and presenters have been warned to avoid the topic of their breakup, and still they ask about it.
Fan events are the worst. I watch every single one that’s broadcast online. Alex fills me in on the events that aren’t broadcast. They don’t go any different. I want to make things better, but I have no clue how.
I brainstorm like crazy as I pour extra whipped cream on my hot chocolate. Ten minutes until our call. Eleven o’clock in the evening isn’t the best time for such a caloric bomb, but I need reinforcements. I can’t be expected to talk to my boyfriend, whom I miss like hell, and not have something hot and tasty to devour. He’s been gone for one week, but it feels more like one month.