Scripted Love (The Scripted Series Book 2)

by Karen Frances

  I pull away, stand at the side of the bed, and quickly remove my shoes, jeans and then my underwear, leaving me completely naked. His eyes wash over me, taking in every last detail. “Your turn,” I say.

  He almost leaps from the bed and removes his jogging trousers and boxers, and pulls his t-shirt off. I watch, enjoying the show. He might look tired but he’s still perfection and still very much mine. His discarded clothes lie crumpled up next to mine on the floor, but neither of us cares. He is as desperate to reconnect as I am; I can see the desire in his hooded eyes.

  “I want you,” I whisper as I lower myself to the bed, licking my lips. Connor’s soft chuckle has me smiling.

  “What is it my lady wants?” he asks, a teasing tone to his voice.

  “Only you. To touch and to taste.”

  “I want the same and more. To touch. To taste. To have and to hold. I want you forever.” I gasp at his words. “When the time is right, you will be mine forever. But right now, I’ll settle for being buried deep inside you.”

  Doesn’t he realise I’m already his? I’ve been his since the day he walked through those doors at the airport.

  He lowers himself to the bed, kneeling before me, and pulls me up into a sitting position. He takes a deep breath in. “I have every inch of your body memorised in my head. The way you smell, the way you taste. It’s all been here with me.” He places his hand on his heart. “I’ve never been without you these days we’ve been apart. You need to know that. It was all I could do.”

  “I’ve slept in our bed so I could be close to you,” I admit. “Connor.” I wrap my arms around his neck and lie down, pulling his body with me. “Just me and you.”

  “Together we can get through anything.” He’s finally realising it. “You’re all I need and want in my life.”

  He brushes his lips lightly over mine. My hands roam his back before settling on the curve of his arse. I spread my legs further apart, bending my knees. His body is where I want it to be. Skin against skin. My breasts tingling against the firmness of his chest.

  The need to have him deep inside me is far greater than I thought possible. I rock my body against him, his erection pressing hard against me. He moves slowly, thrusting against me. But that’s not what I want.

  “Please, Connor,” I beg.

  He thrusts hard and pushes deep inside me, filling me. I gasp in sweet agony. My body arches up against his with sheer pleasure. “I need you more.”

  The rhythm he sets is magical, and I rise to meet each thrust. The connection between us is undeniable. We both feel it. He smiles, his eyes burning brightly.

  With each thrust, my body draws him in, my muscles tightening around him as my orgasm builds within. His eyes look as heavy as mine feel, but neither of us closes them. I’m scared to close mine in case he disappears again. Maybe he feels the same.

  With every careful thrust, fire spreads through me, taking with it all my thoughts and fears. Taking me on a journey to a height of passion I’ve never felt before. My body begins to vibrate at the same time I notice all the muscles in his shoulders tense. We both freefall together.

  And together is where we belong.

  Forever.

  I turn around to face him. He looks much better now than when I first entered the room. He’s relaxed and fresh from our shower. “I should go and let you speak to your parents on your own.”

  “I’m not sure I can do this on my own.” I can hear the vulnerability in his voice.

  “You can. I have every faith in you, and anyway, I’m out tonight with Michelle from the charity.”

  His face falls, but I believe the three of them need each other. I’ll be here when he needs me, but for now, his parents will need some time and space to come to terms with what Connor has been through.

  “Can I ask you a question?” He nods. “The agent that put you in that horrible situation. What happened to him?”

  “He died a few years ago. I’m not sure how and I don’t care.” My mind wanders to who it could be. I know I could find out, probably quite easily too, if I did some digging. But knowing his name isn’t going to help matters. It won’t change the past.

  “I wanted to help you with the charity,” he says.

  “I know, and you still can. There’s going to plenty of opportunities. I have so many things to tell you. I was with Michelle and a young family during the week and I’m hoping Michelle will take me with her the next time she goes to visit them.”

  “Oh. Where are you helping tonight?”

  “On the streets of the city centre.”

  “Once I’ve spoken with my parents, can I call you and we can go home together?” I smile at his words, even though my house is no longer home.

  “Yes.”

  There’s a knock at the door and I know this is his parents. They called when they arrived and he told them the room number. “I’ll get it,” I say, kissing him. I leave him standing by the window. “Come in,” I say to his parents as I open the door. His mum’s eyes are red from crying and there’s no sign of her warm, loving smile.

  “Ella, I can’t thank you enough,” she says, hugging me tightly before releasing me. Her eyes dart to where her son stands and I know he’s trying to gather his own strength to tell his parents.

  We spoke briefly after our shower and his concern about his parents is that he doesn’t want to disappoint them. I tried my best to reassure him that he couldn’t disappoint them, but I don’t think he listened. Hopefully, his parents will have more luck than me.

  “You have nothing to thank me for. I’m going to leave you so you can talk. Please be gentle with him.”

  “Of course we will,” his mum says, her eyes brimming with more tears.

  “Ella, if you’re leaving, you might want to arrange with the hotel to leave through a back entrance.”

  Connor walks toward us. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “There’s a lot of press gathered outside,” his dad tells us. “It seems someone alerted them when Ella arrived earlier.”

  “Ella, just stay. Call Michelle and cancel. She’ll understand.”

  “She will, I don’t doubt that. But your mum needs you. I think you all need some space as a family. I love you so much and it hurts to walk away from you right now, but I’m leaving because it’s the right thing to do. You need time with your parents and I’ll be here as soon as you need me.”

  “I know you’re right, but . . . I’ll see you later?”

  “Of course you will.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I say before leaving the room. Leaving him to be comforted by his parents.

  Pausing in the hallway, I hope I’ve done the right thing. It felt like the right decision. His mum is a very proud and private woman, and her love for her son is unconditional. She will want time to process what he tells her and I know she’ll do everything in her power to support him through this.

  I take a deep breath. Now, I have a decision to make; do I scurry away through the back entrance, or do I hold my head up tall and walk out the main doors and hopefully not into the lion’s den.

  My phone beeps in my hand. It’s Trevor: I’m at the hotel.

  I’m on my way down. I’ll see you in a few minutes at the main entrance. I type out my reply.

  Trevor: That’s our girl

  I exit the elevator and Trevor is standing inside the hotel’s reception. “Why are you here?” I ask.

  “Because I had a feeling you’d be leaving soon, although I’m not sure if you’re going home or to Michelle. I’d been tipped off that there were journalists here waiting. Someone contacted them after seeing you arrive earlier.”

  “I’m glad you’re here. What should I say?”

  “Well, today’s story isn’t for you to confirm or deny. When and if Connor wants to give his side of the story, that will be up to him. How is he now?”

  “You saw him this morning, didn’t you?”

  “Of course. He’s my client and I
always look out for my clients, but more importantly, he’s the love of your life, and like everyone else who loves you, I’d do anything for you.”

  “You know you’re getting mushy in your old age?”

  “Betty will tell you I’ve always been mushy. Especially when it comes to those close to me. Now, I trust you to say the right thing. If it starts to get out of hand, I’ll step in.”

  “Okay. Let’s do this,” I say as the doorman holds the door open for us.

  Cameras flash in every direction, but I don’t let it faze me.

  “Ella, you look well considering today’s breaking story.”

  “I am well.”

  Trevor stays close as we stop because it’s clear I’m not getting through this crowd without answering a few questions.

  “Miss McGregor, have you watched the footage?”

  “No.”

  “It clearly shows Mr Andrews.”

  “Is there a question in that sentence?” I ask the reporter who is standing in front of me, blocking the path to Trevor’s car.

  “No, there wasn’t.” The woman’s face falls with what I think is sadness, and it’s clear to me that she’s seen some of the footage at least.

  “Will Mr Andrews be making a statement on today’s story?” a man from the back of the crowd calls out. “Is it true he was abused?”

  “I’m sorry. I have no comment to make.”

  Trevor puts his hand on the small of my back and pushes his way through the crowd. He opens the passenger door and I get in quickly as photographers still take picture after picture.

  “You done good girl. Are you sure you still want to go ahead with your plans?”

  “Yes,” I say without hesitation.

  If I can keep myself busy, I won’t be wondering how Connor and his parents are.

  I shouldn’t worry about them. They love him unconditionally.

  And the sooner he realises that, the better.

  “I HONESTLY DIDN’T THINK I’D see you tonight,” Michelle says as I enter the shelter. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’d given you my word I’d be here tonight, and my word isn’t something I tend to go back on.”

  “I’m realising that. As long as you’re sure. If at any point tonight or today’s events get too much, just tell me.” I nod with a smile. “Okay, I’m about to give all the volunteers a briefing on what to look out for.”

  I follow her into another room which is huge and filled with makeshift beds and lots of volunteers. Michelle told me this isn’t the only venue used at night to help the homeless in the city; there’s another four throughout the city centre. Even with four venues with all these makeshift beds, there are still people sleeping on the streets. It suddenly hits me that our homeless problem is much bigger than I initially thought.

  I stand at the back as Michelle makes her way to the front of the room. Any hope of blending in with the crowd is long gone when Michelle announces that I’m here to help. Everyone turns and looks at me. She proceeds to split everyone into groups of two or three and gives each group instructions on which area of the city they will be working in and what to look out for; checking on anyone showing signs of sickness.

  Every group has to check in several times. I suppose that’s one way of ensuring the safety of all the volunteers. Michelle hopes to get as many homeless people as she possibly can off the streets tonight and sleeping in one of the shelters.

  I stand back and watch as each group gathers some boxes. “What are they doing?” I ask.

  “Not everyone will take our offer of a bed for the night. Sometimes, we have to earn their trust. They may be scared that we’ll go to other authorities. We’ll give those who don’t accept a bed for the night some basic toiletries such as, face wipes, hand sanitiser, a toothbrush, and toothpaste. It doesn’t seem like much, but most people are so grateful. We also provide them with a hot drink and a roll.”

  “How do you get hot food to them?”

  “Well, we can tell them where to go, but most won’t, so I have a team of guys who are prepared to take hot food to them. I just call in the destination.”

  “It sounds like you are very well organised.”

  “We need to be. There’s a lot of ground to be covered in a night.”

  We take a few boxes of supplies out to Michelle’s car. There’s a guy coming out with us; Tom. He’s young and seems really friendly, but I can’t help thinking I recognise him. “Considering you’re an A-list star, it should be me staring,” he says with a cheeky smile.

  “Sorry, it’s just you look familiar.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have seen pictures of me at the main office.”

  “So, you were homeless?” I ask as we put the last of the boxes in the car.

  “Yes. I owe my life to the charity and that’s why I’m here at the weekend instead of drinking in the pub. And what you’re doing is amazing. You will lift the profile of the charity.”

  “I hope I can help.”

  “I have no doubts you will, Miss McGregor.”

  “Please, only Ella.”

  “Okay, Ella. If I can get some pictures of you helping, is that okay? I’m not sure if Michelle has asked or not but we’d love to have a piece in one of the papers.”

  “Yes and yes. I’m here to help the charity in any way. You can do what you want.” Tom smirks. “Within reason,” I add.

  “So I can’t steal a kiss then?”

  “Tom!” Michelle shouts. “Ella is here to help, not to have you come on to her. Ella, you’ll need to forgive Tom. He’s just a typical young lad.”

  “He’s already forgiven. Look at the smile. I’m sure no one can stay angry with him for long.” Michelle gets in the car and Tom winks at me. I get in the car, laughing, because this feels so normal after today and the week I’ve had.

  My thoughts drift to Connor and I type out a message on my phone.

  I love you and hope the three of you are okay. X

  He replies almost instantly. I love you and you were right. We did need space.

  I smile at his response.

  Our drive isn’t long, and before I know it, we’re walking along what is, during the day, one of the busiest high streets in Glasgow. But, tonight, the scene is different. Groups of people going from one pub to another ignore everything else.

  We’ve each put some supplies in backpacks. Talk is cheery as we walk. Tom has a knack of making Michelle and me laugh. Someone like him is great company on nights like this because he keeps spirits high.

  “Slow down, guys,” Michelle says as we approach a large shop with a double doorway. There are at least two people there.

  “Hello, Mack. How are you tonight?” Tom asks the man sitting up in a sleeping bag. I try not to stare, but it’s hard not to.

  I can’t even begin to estimate what age he is. His dirty, ripped clothes hang loosely on his undernourished frame. His matted hair is long and greasy. The shirt on his back is spattered with blood and covered in mould and saliva from his hard nights on the street.

  This is so wrong.

  I want to say our country is fucked, letting this go on. But this isn’t just our city, our country’s problem. This is a worldwide problem. That needs to be addressed.

  “I’m not too bad,” Mack says, adjusting his sleeping bag. “I see you’ve brought a new friend, but I’m hoping she’s not from social services.” Michelle’s words about trust ring loudly through my ears.

  “No, she’s not from social services. This is Ella McGregor.”

  “She could be a movie star,” Mack says, and Tom laughs. “What’s so funny, young man?”

  “She is a movie star. One of the best,” Tom replies. As Mack studies me, movement at the other sleeping bag catches my eye. I can’t hide the gasp that escapes my mouth as I take in the sight before me. Tears fill my eyes.

  A young boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, sits up and stares at me. I can hear Mack and Tom talking; he’s asking why I’d want to be on the streets helping
the likes of him when I could be sitting in my warm house.

  I tune out their conversation and concentrate on the small boy. He’s not as dirty as Mack so I presume he’s not been on the streets long. The lad’s deep blue eyes stare at me and he blinks rapidly as though he recognises me. “You’re Ella McGregor.”

  I bend down to his level. “Yes, I am. How do you know me?”

  “I saw your last movie with my mu . . .” He doesn’t finish his sentence and sadness creeps across his expression. A moment ago, his face was full of light, and now, all I see is darkness. He slumps back against the door, fidgeting with something around his neck. There’s a gold cross between his fingers.

  Michelle is on her phone, calling in for hot food and drinks. “So, our young scrapper is with you again,” Tom says to Mack.

  Again?

  “Yes. He’s a good lad. I gave you my word I’d look out for him. It seems I’m stuck with him.”

  “I can leave you at any time, old man,” the boy says, his voiced laced with humour. Michelle and Tom laugh, but I can’t. My eyes are filling with tears and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.

  What has happened to our society? A young boy who should be at home with his family, going to school, playing football with his friends. Why is he not at home?

  “Miss Ella!” It’s Mack’s voice that brings me away from my thoughts. “Is this your first night out?”

  “Yes, and it won’t be my last.”

  “Mack, can’t we offer you both beds in the shelter tonight?” Michelle asks.

  “Not tonight. The boy won’t go and I won’t leave him on his own.” And with Mack’s words, my tears fall. Tom hands me a tissue. I want to give Mack a kiss for what he’s doing for the boy, and as for him, I want to take him in my arms and tell him everything will be okay. That there’s someone to look out for him and protect him.

  But most of all, love him.

  “Miss Ella, don’t cry. He’s fine with me. No harm will come to him.”

  “Ella, do you need a minute?” Michelle asks.

  “No. Can I sit down with you?” Michelle and Tom look at each other. Tom smiles and Michelle shrugs her shoulders.