“Sorry, for what?” My voice was low, edged with a huskiness that I had never heard myself speak before.
“I was selfish. I should have waited for you. But Ella, I was so desperate to come, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I feel that we’ve had the longest foreplay ever. What with me being away from you for nearly a whole week. Every night I fell asleep thinking about you. All my dreams had you in them, and I woke up every morning thinking about you. Then, just to add to everything, in all my interviews, people wanted to talk about you. And all I wanted to do was hold you close, kiss you, love you.”
“And fuck me senseless.” I giggled at my own interruption.
Alex grinned. “And fuck you senseless, yes.”
He shifted sideways, lying next to me on the sofa. “Look at us,” he said. “We’re like a pair of horny teenagers.”
He took my hand in his before kissing the back of it.
We laid next to each other for several minutes. The only sound in the room was our breathing as we both slowly calmed.
“Is that electric meter topped up?” he suddenly asked.
“I think so. Why?”
“Because we’re going to have a shower together.”
He jumped from the sofa and pulled his t-shirt off. As he strode across the room toward the bathroom he kicked off his shoes and pulled his jean free from his legs.
“You coming, Ella? Or do I have to drag you?”
After the most erotic and loving shower I had ever had, we had stumbled into my bed. Sleep was in short supply, as every time one of us woke up, so did the other. Unable to keep our hands off each other, our nightly waking turned into sensual love making.
Alex’s growling stomach eventually forced us to face the thought of stumbling out of bed. I headed for the shower without him, insisting that I needed time to myself to freshen up. But as I turned to look back at him, still lying in my bed, the sight of him nearly made me return. He was completely naked, lying on his back with his hands behind his head. One of his legs was slightly bent at the knee, his cock visible from where I stood—still semi-hard. I was about to turn and walk out of the room when Alex winked at me.
“You sure you don’t want me to join you? I’m sure I could wash some part of your body for you.”
I shook my head.
“I have no idea where you get your energy from,” I told him. “I’m exhausted.”
He rolled over, and my eyes darted to his groin just before he turned onto his stomach, resting his head sideways on the pillow.
“Go get your shower then, Ella. I wouldn’t want to change your mind.” He closed his eyes as he settled.
I managed to tear my eyes away from him and head to the bathroom. He’d be there when I returned. It was a thought that I couldn’t push from my head. He was here, with me, of his own free-will. He’d said he loved me, and throughout all the times we’d made love last night, and this morning, he never once pushed me to do anything I didn’t want. We seemed evenly matched, both in stamina and our need for each other. I never wanted him to leave.
When I emerged from the shower, Alex was wearing nothing but his trunks as he wandering around the kitchen. He opened and shut cupboard doors whilst talking to someone on his mobile phone. My loved-up bubble popped. Why had he contacted someone?
He leaned against the counter, his serious expression turning to a cheeky grin. “Yes. Do you think you can sort that? No, give us a day or two. Aim for Friday. That would be perfect.”
I raised my own eyebrows, silently questioning his end of the conversation.
“I’m sure she’ll love it.” He paused momentarily, listening to the other person speaking. “Fuck, I don’t care about that. We’ll sort something. Yes, I know I need to talk to her. Yes, I know it’s important.”
He opened the fridge door, grabbed a carton of milk and placed it on the counter. 'Tea?' he mouthed.
I nodded.
“Call me with all the details when it’s sorted. Actually, don’t call me, text me. I don’t want to be disturbed again.”
He poured the boiling water from the kettle into two mugs.
“I know I rang you. Yes, yes, okay. Text me.”
I slumped in the corner of the sofa, curling my legs underneath me. I didn’t like that he’d burst our bubble of bliss by making a phone call.
“Look, I’ve got to go. Tomorrow? Yes, I suppose so. Okay, see you later.”
He ended the call.
“Ella, I’m so sorry,” he said as he approached me, a mug in each hand. “I had things to sort out.”
“I thought we were going to have at least one day to ourselves.” I pouted. “No interruptions, remember?”
“Are you sulking?” There was amusement in his voice, and I shot him a dirty frown.
He chuckled, placed the mugs of tea on the table, and knelt on the floor, before resting his hands on my legs.
“I’ve arranged for something. A surprise.”
“You promised we’d be left alone. No calls, no disturbances,” I reminded him, still not forgiving him. I didn’t really like surprises at the best of times, never mind when they interfered with our alone time.
He leaned over, kissing my thigh. “It’s a surprise for you.”
My annoyance at the phone call eased slightly.
“What?” I asked.
He leaned over me, his lips meeting mine in a slow, lingering kiss.
“I’m only going to tell you if you stop sulking, Ella,” he whispered against my mouth.
I poked my fingers in his ribs. “Tell me!”
“Say please.”
“Tell me,” I repeated, digging my fingers into his sides.
“Owww . . . what’s the magic word?” His mouth ventured to my neck and he placed light, teasing kisses on the skin.
“No, you’ll not make me say it.”
He sucked at my skin, and I squirmed under him, trying to move away from his persuasive lips.
“Say it, and I’ll tell you who I was speaking to, and what the surprise is.”
I couldn’t stand it any longer. I gave in.
“Please!” I shrieked. “Tell me!”
He kissed my nose.
“It was Megan. She’s not only my sister, but also my PA. I’ve asked her to arrange for us to go away together on Friday. Somewhere we won’t be found. I don’t want us to be in England when all the shit hits the papers this weekend. She’s also going to get you some clothes for where we’re going, not that I see you wearing many. I doubt we’ll be leaving the bedroom.”
I stared at him, unable to register what he was saying.
“You? Me? Going away? Together?”
He kissed my lips quickly.
“You did say you had a passport, didn’t you? You’d best find it, because we’re going to the Azores for a week.”
It emerged that during the conversation that Alex and Megan had, they’d also discussed the remaining time of my work experience. The scheduled four weeks would be cut short to just under two weeks if Alex and I went away.
Megan was concerned that if the trip went ahead I wouldn’t be able to complete my work experience. The thought had crossed my mind a few times. I’d miss the final week, the week that I’d intended to go to the studio. If I didn’t go in, regardless of what Rowan said, or signed, I couldn’t see anything going my way when I returned to college. There was nothing but a big fail at the end of my course because of everything that had happened.
Alex had reasoned with me that going back to college would be near enough impossible now, and tentatively asked me if it was a concern that we needed to discuss at length. How serious was I about my studies? Was this the career that I dreamt about, and was he ruining it for me? I’d shook my head and told him that I’d already decided I wasn’t cut out for directing stars like him and Amy. I couldn’t stand it. I just had to decide what I wanted to do with my life.
The letter that arrived in the mail later that morning only confirmed what I had already assumed. I
had been thrown off my course due to my unacceptable and unprofessional behaviour whilst on my highly prestigious work experience. The letter reminded me that the work experience was one that any other student would have grabbed with both hands and made the most of in a highly professional manner.
Alex had read the letter, cursed several times at the tone of it, before grinning, informing me that I had grabbed something with both hands, and he was quite glad I hadn’t behaved in a professional manner. He had hugged me tightly and told me that we would work something out. He didn’t like that his appearance in my life had already caused me so much trouble.
Alex spent the rest of the day trying to take my mind off things. He didn’t make any further phone calls, and nobody rung him. We relaxed and spent most of the day in bed, only drifting to sleep in each other’s arms when our bodies were exhausted.
It was eleven o'clock on Thursday morning when I woke up. Alex was lying beside me, on his back, breathing slowly as quiet snores escaped him.
I had no idea how he’d managed to keep surprising me like he’d done for the past few days. He had been insatiable. Although, looking at him now, I wondered if all our love making had finally caught up with him. I took the opportunity to study him whilst he still slept. Of all the times I’d looked at pictures of him on the internet, I’d never imagined that he would be this close, and this committed to me and my happiness. The pictures on the internet and the candid ones posted on twitter just didn’t do him justice.
He seemed a lot happier with things as well. It was so easy to forget how he reacted to my appearance at the studio on that first day. The way he had snarled and spoken to me, and the way he had upset me, now seemed like a lifetime away. I continued observing him, loving that his stubble was already looking like a beard, and how his lips pouted as he dreamed.
I turned onto my side to watch him sleep. I couldn’t resist letting my eyes travel down the rest of his body. They skimmed over his chest, noting the smattering of hairs, seeing the contours of his abs before they narrowed to the point just below his sides into the glorious 'V' of his abdomen. I chuckled quietly as my eyes focused on the thickening mass of dark curls that covered his groin, and the placid-ness of his body in that area. He really was exhausted.
I resisted the urge to keep staring at his groin, and followed the curve of his legs lying across the bed. He was so tall that his feet hung over the edge. He had hairy legs, not rough and coarse ones, but soft, fine, almost downy hairs covering every inch of them. His toes were hairy as well, and I recalled how he had groaned in pleasure when I had massaged them last night. It seemed that Alex liked his feet being touched.
“Why are you staring at my legs?”
Alex had woken up. He lifted his arms above his head, and released a long yawn as he stretched.
“I like them,” I replied, bending over him to kiss his cheek.
He smiled lazily. “I really like it here. It’s so peaceful. Shall we stay in bed all day again?”
I screwed my nose up. “I’d love to, but—”
“But what?”
“I hate to remind you, but you said that Anthony could interview you today. We’re going away tomorrow.”
He groaned. “Stupid interview. I don’t know what to say, how much, how little. I still don’t trust him.”
I offered a reassuring smile. “I don’t think he’ll print anything that’ll paint you in a bad light. He’s got your sister to contend with, remember?”
He managed a quiet chuckle. “You’re coming with me, Ella. I need your support. I think I’m going to give him the whole story, but I don’t quite know how I’m going to get through it.”
I hugged him. “You know I’ll be there for you. I’ll help you.”
He lifted his head from the pillow, and twisted his body so that he was lying over me. “I said in America that I loved you. I announced it on live television for fucks sake. But I’ve not told you since I came back, have I?”
I shook my head, unable to look away from him as I muttered the word. “No.”
“Well I do, you know. I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you, too,” I replied just before his lips met mine.
It was obvious from the forceful way he kissed me that it would be a few more hours before we ventured downstairs to speak to Anthony.
I grabbed Alex’s hand as we headed down the stairs. One look at his face and I knew how nervous and apprehensive he was about all this. I still couldn’t believe that he’d decided to tell Anthony everything. I hoped that Anthony would remain professional throughout the interview. The last thing Alex needed was Anthony’s sarcasm and jokes.
“You okay?” I asked, squeezing his hand for encouragement as he knocked on Anthony’s door.
He nodded, scratching his head, and pulling at the side of his hair.
“I just keep reminding myself that once this is over we can start sorting things out for tomorrow. Getting away from all this seems like the best idea I’ve ever had,” he said.
“We’ll have a great time. Let the shit hit the fan whilst we relax.” I sidled up to him, raising my hand to stroke his cheek. His eyes were tired, drawn and worried. “It’ll be fine,” I promised before kissing him.
“Hey, Ella, Alex. I’m all ready for you. Come in.”
Alex’s hand gently pushed me forward.
“It’s a bit tidier then last week,” I said, looking around the room.
“Well, I think that’s due to Megan. I can’t expect her to live in a pig sty, can I? And she threatened to withdraw sexual services if I didn’t sort my crap out.”
Alex screwed his nose up. “If I wasn’t feeling sick before I came in here, I do now. Anthony, please, she’s my sister. Can you keep the sexual innuendos about her to yourself whilst I’m here?”
Anthony grinned. “Yeah, of course I can. I suspect that I’ll be hearing plenty from you anyway.”
Alex frowned as he positioned himself on the sofa. I sat next to him, placing my hand on his knee.
“You and Amy?” Anthony confirmed, but said it as a question.
Alex sniggered. “Sex, and Amy? Anthony, the two hardly ever went together with us two. That’s not the sort of story you’ll be getting from me.”
“Oh, I just thought . . . well, after what Simon said.”
Alex glared at Anthony, his eyes locking on his. “What exactly did Simon say?”
Anthony looked as if he was about to speak, but shook his head. “I’ll tell you in a minute. Drink?”
I nodded. “Please. Just water.”
“Something stronger for me,” Alex said.
Anthony sauntered toward the kitchen. “Is whiskey okay Alex? I’ve got a bit of whisky left from when Ella drank most of the bottle last week.”
“I had one swig,” I protested.
“Whiskey?” Alex questioned, a smirk appearing at the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah. I needed it. We’d had an argument, remember?”
Alex immediately became serious. “Yes. I remember. Sorry.”
I leaned forward and kissed him. “It’s okay. You have nothing to apologise for.”
“Right!” Anthony exclaimed as he handed me my water then poured Alex a glass of whiskey. “Let’s get started.”
He sat on the sofa opposite us, and placed a small digital recorder on the table in front of Alex.
Alex leaned forward. “Before I say anything,” Alex said. “I want to know what Simon told you.”
Anthony reached across the sofa, grabbing some sheets of paper.
“This is the draft of what I sent through to my editor.” He handed the papers to Alex, who quickly read through them. I glanced through the typed-up document along with Alex. It seemed weird reading Simon’s version of events. It wasn’t something I could comment on. I’d only heard Alex’s side. I knew nothing about Amy and Simon’s relationship.
Alex nodded as he read, occasionally sighing, and even guffawing out loud at one point. When he’d finished,
he calmly handed the papers back to Anthony.
“Well if that doesn’t end her career, I think I’ll end it with what I’m going to tell you.”
“Is what Simon said true then? Do you agree with what he’s said? Could you back up his story?” Anthony questioned.
Alex nodded. “Yes. I actually think he’s been quite kind to her.”
“The bit mentioning her pregnancy and who the daddy is—you sure that Rowan is in the picture for it? Because if this is printed and it’s not true, Rowan could sue me.”
“Oh yes. Rowan is well and truly up there as a possibility, isn’t he Ella?”
I nodded slowly, not liking the way Simon’s interview was going to affect Rowan as well as Amy. But like Alex said the other day, Rowan got involved with Amy knowing what she was like, and knowing that she was in a relationship with Simon. He had to deal with the consequences, just like the rest of us.
“All this article does is confirm that Amy sleeps around, is now pregnant, and that Simon had left her,” Alex said. “There’s nothing there about how she met him and what went on in the early days of their relationship. Hey, wait a minute, he said that he’s not the father. Shouldn’t that be, he’s hoping that he isn’t?”
“Simon knows he isn’t the father,” Anthony said.
“How?” Alex asked. “Has he not fucked her for the past several months?”
“She’s eleven weeks pregnant. She had some tests done earlier this week. Simon is not the daddy.”
“Tests? This early?” Alex exclaimed. “I didn’t think it was possible.”
Anthony nodded. “Yep, Chorionic Villi sampling. It carries a risk of affecting the foetus, but can be done between ten and thirteen weeks. Simon insisted she have it done.”
Alex was silent for a few seconds. “Whose is it then?” he asked, the strain in his voice already noticeable.
Anthony shrugged. “Seems there are three further possibilities, or so Simon told me.”
“Who?” Alex pushed.
“Well, there’s Rowan, someone called Paul.” He paused awkwardly. “And you.”
Alex raised his face heavenwards. “I knew it. Is she trying to make out that it could be mine?”
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