by Amity Cross
"You can tell me, Blair. I want you to. You can trust me."
"I can't," I cried. "You were the only one who came back."
He didn't press the issue and for a little while—oh, about five minutes—I thought I'd gotten away with it. Then he let me go and sat up, and I don't know what it was, but I found myself sitting next to him, our bare legs touching. Sometimes he felt like a magnet and without thinking, some part of my body would just unconsciously connect to his. I wondered if it was the same for him, but I was too afraid to ask. I was letting fear take up too much of my time lately.
"If I tell you something about me, will you trust me?" he asked, his chocolate eyes searching mine.
"I can't promise you that, West. I can promise to try, but it's not that easy."
He nodded, running a hand over his face. It seemed to satisfy him because he just came out with whatever had been on his mind. "Six months ago, I almost died."
Out of all the things I could think of, that was definitely not the one I saw coming out of his perfect mouth.
"I was so empty," he said, running his fingers along mine. "I couldn't see a way forward and the only time I felt I had control was when I was high. You know how fucking stupid that sounds?"
His head fell to his knees and I combed my fingers through his hair, settling my palm on the back of his neck. What was I supposed to say to that? You just want to say the right thing and make it better, whether it be comfort, acceptance, denial, confirmation…but I didn't know which was the right one.
"Things had just gotten too much. We were touring nonstop, everywhere we went there were cameras shoved in our faces…money, drugs, women. There's a point where it gets too much, and it got too much. I drowned it all out to a dull roar in the most destructive way until even that wasn't enough."
I could see where this was going and there was nothing I could do to soothe the blow. I just had to watch him take it again. And it was all because he wanted me to trust him.
"We were in America. We'd just played a show in Florida and I went out and got high afterward. The entire leg of that tour had been a nightmare. I was in the papers again and Furlough was off his tree because of it. I couldn’t deal, so I found something to take the edge off. I don't remember all of it, but somehow I made it back to my hotel room and there was this noise. This…pain in my heart that wouldn't go away. So, I just downed everything I had. Furlough found me OD'ing in the bathroom. If he had waited another ten minutes, I probably would've been dead. Afterwards, I told him that it was blissful…unconsciousness and death and all of that. I didn’t really want to die or be a fucking addict, so I went to rehab."
"West," I sighed, leaning my head against his shoulder.
"Furlough is a fuck stain, I get it, but he's like that for a reason. He saved my life and saved the band in more ways than one. He's the reason the press didn't find out. No one outside of the band knows I even went to rehab. No one knows anything. It’s probably one of the best kept secrets in the music business."
I thought I had a screwed-up life, but I didn't have an inch on West. I suddenly felt selfish for wallowing like I had for so long. For fighting everyone and everything, even myself.
"All those women," he sighed, running a hand over his face. "I didn't realize it until later, but I was looking for something I was desperate for."
"What?" I asked, almost too afraid of the answer.
"A connection." He looked up at me with hope and I felt my bottom lip quiver.
I had to be careful that he didn't latch onto me. For someone with such an addictive personality, he could want me for all the wrong reasons and by sticking around I could be enabling him. Maybe all he really needed was to get better on his own. At the end of this, I might have to be the one who walked away to save him from being broken.
"I fucked up that night," he continued. "I shouldn't have gone to that bar, I shouldn't have brought you back here, but I did."
"West." I didn't want to hear him say it. Was he realizing what a mistake I was? This whole deal he'd brokered with me in the back room of Billboard after... I'd break myself if it meant saving him the pain. I cared about him, of course I did. But I didn't even know when the hell my feelings had started to change.
"That's the thing, Blair. I did the wrong thing, but I'd do it again."
I couldn't tear my gaze away from his.
"I know I'm probably fucking this up, that it's too personal for you, but it's real. This," he gestured between us, "is the realest thing I've felt in a long fucking time."
All I could do was lean over and press my lips to his. Cupping his face, I stroked my thumb across the stubble on his jaw. I knew it was my turn, but I wasn't sure how to begin. I'd never come this far before. Not to the point of revealing deep dark secrets, anyway. I let the guy put his dick in me multiple times a day, but I couldn't give him this? I guess it was a different kind of intimate. Baring your body to someone was different to baring your soul.
Besides, West had taken a huge fucking risk telling me what he just did. If Furlough'd been right about me, then I could go straight to whatever magazine would pay me the highest and fuck off into the sunset a rich woman. I had no job and if I didn't get any cash soon, I'd have no home either. I had a strong motive, but I could never do that, not to West and not to anybody. I might be a bitch with serious social anxiety issues, but warm blood ran through my veins.
Pulling away, I cast my eyes down. I didn't want to see the pity in his eyes and I'm sure he didn't want to see mine for him.
“I know I’m a bitch,” I said. “I know I’m cold and mean and push people away. I had a lifetime of people telling me how pathetic and useless I am. I don’t have anyone. If no one’s there, then no one can hurt me again.”
“What about your family?”
"My parents are dead," I replied, playing with the edge of the sheet.
"How did they die?"
I shook my head. I hadn't thought about it in years and certainly not in the last few days. I locked it away in a deep dark chasm inside my brain and threw away the key.
"Nothing you say to me will ever leave this room."
That's the thing I should've said to him first. "Likewise."
He smiled, taking my hand again.
"My dad was an alcoholic," I began. "He did all the usual raging alco stuff. Beat my mum, stole, lied, sent us broke. More than a few times we went without dinner or electricity."
"Did he hurt you?" West asked, thinly.
"He never touched me," I replied. "Though sometimes I wish he would've hit me instead to save my mum the pain."
West tightened his grip, but didn't say anything, just waiting for me to work through it.
"When Tim grabbed me this afternoon, it reminded me of him. I would've fought if you hadn't come, but it was like his ghost had come back to start on me, you know?"
"What happened to him? Your dad?"
Sighing, I ran my fingers along West's jaw, feeling his stubble against my skin. He'd trusted me, shouldn't I trust him?
"When I was eighteen," I began, "I moved to the city to go to Uni at Monash. I got a scholarship for regional kids to help with housing and fees. Never in a million years did I ever think they'd be stupid enough to give it to me, but they did. I didn't want to leave my mum behind, but she told me to get out while I had the chance. A month later I got a knock on the door."
This was the part I had trouble with. The part where the cops knocked on your door and told you your parents were dead. For me, it wasn't the fact that they were gone that was the problem, it was the how that was the punch line.
"The police?" West prompted when I fell silent.
Nodding, I said, "Yeah. They were dead. Dad had a breakdown or was blind drunk or something. He shot my mum and turned the gun on himself."
I felt West's entire body tense, his muscles hardening like he was readying himself for flight.
"I guess that's why I'm like I am," I added before he could run. "People equal pain or s
ome shit. Leave before I get hurt. It’s happened my entire life, so why would it ever change."
Now was the part where West would freak out and leave, but all he did was wrap his arms around me, pulling my body tighter against his. It was the comfort I'd wanted all along and had never found.
"What?" he asked, when I tensed.
"I've never got to this part before."
He let a small smile pull at his lips and he whispered, "You're safe with me."
It was the weirdest thing, sleeping with someone without having sex. I couldn't think of a time I'd ever done it before and I wondered what took me so long. Maybe I had to wait for Blair for it to finally feel right.
Sunlight streamed through cracks in the curtains, lighting the room just enough so I could take in her sleeping form. Her expression was so peaceful, I didn't have it in me to wake her. Hard-ass Blair Hayden looked like the sweetest thing when she was asleep. That was a thought I was going to keep to myself because I could image what she'd do to me if she knew. I liked my balls just the way they were.
Talking of balls...Blair wasn't the only thing I'd woken up with and I couldn't help flexing against her tight little ass. She rolled over with a whimper and I caught her lips with mine, kissing her awake.
"Mmm," she mumbled. "Hello."
"Did you sleep okay?" I asked before pressing my lips to her forehead.
"Yeah." Her voice was husky from sleep, hair all tangled, and even without a stitch of makeup she was still beautiful. Fucking hell, when did I become every woman's marriage material fantasy? I was the bad-boy rock star. There went my street cred.
"What time is it?" she asked, stretching out beside me.
"Doesn't matter. You've only got one place to be and you're already there." Blair slid a hand down the front of my boxers, feeling my morning hard-on. I pressed into her palm, a groan rumbling through me.
"How about it?" she asked, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth.
"Anytime, beautiful."
I pulled my T-shirt off her and dragged the boxers down and off, my fingers circling her clit and my mouth firmly around a nipple.
"On your back," she murmured and pushed me on my back.
This time it was her turn to undress me. My T-shirt was gone in two seconds flat and hands were tugging my boxers down and off, my cock hard and free. Before I had the chance to pull her on top, her tongue was running the length of my erection and I sucked in a sharp breath as she encased my tip with her wet lips. I was not expecting that. Then she was sucking, licking, tasting…drawing everything out of me. Groaning, I fisted a hand into her hair as her palm wrapped around my hilt, moving up and down my length in rhythm with her mouth.
"Fuck. Me. Blair," I gasped. I'd been sucked off before, but never like this. Never with so much attention.
Her cheeks were hollowed as she sucked with just the right amount of pressure, not too hard, not too soft. Just enough to get me frustrated and hot. Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction when she looked up, catching my expression. Her lips around my hard-on was the most electrifying sight I’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. She moved faster, cupping my balls, and teeth grazed the sensitive skin of my cock as she fucked me with her mouth. It took all I had to hold back and not thrust deep into the back of her throat. Sitting up, I pulled her away and ripped open the condom I'd been grasping on to.
"As fucking amazing as your mouth is," I said, pulling her up and onto my lap, "I want to come inside you."
A satisfied moan rippled through her as she positioned herself over me, rubbing her wet pussy along my shaft. Taking control from her, I slid deep inside, right to the hilt, and a soft moan came from between her perfect lips. The same perfect lips that had been sucking my dick moments before. She began to move, sliding up and down, grinding her clit into my pelvis.
"West," she gasped against my mouth, tugging at my hair.
"You feel so good, beautiful." Every time I felt the tip of my cock hit deep inside her, a shudder ripped through my entire body.
"You taste fucking delicious," she gasped as she rode me. She fucking knew she had the control and was delighting in every stroke, every groan that came from me, and I was happy to let her take it…for now.
I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth, tasting myself on her as I kneaded her breasts, pinching and twisting her hard nipples. Fuck, I was hot and tight, right on the edge. I needed to move and I needed to move now. Flipping Blair on her back, I began to fuck her faster, spreading her legs up and opening her to me. All of her. Her gasps and moans only encouraged me to thrust harder.
"Come for me, Blair," I growled into the crook of her neck. "Give it to me."
Her walls began to tighten, milking my own release, and any man who couldn't come inside Blair Hayden was a fucking pussy. I'd never let another man touch her, not while I was around. She'd feel where I'd been for the rest of her life. Blair was mine.
"West," she gasped, her fingers digging into my back, scratching deep. "Fuck, yes. Don't stop."
I began spilling hard inside her and I didn't know what else to say other than what I was feeling. "You are mine."
Her eyes met mine as the last of our orgasms washed over us and I didn't dare look away. She let out one last whimper and was still. Sensing I'd overstepped the line, I kissed her long and deep, flexing my pelvis against her sensitive clit.
"I can't be yours," she whispered. "Not when you're going to leave."
I pulled out, falling heavily on the mattress beside her. "Blair, I—"
My phone started ringing and vibrating across the bedside table, interrupting me. Rolling my eyes, I picked it up and saw Furlough's name on the screen. I let it go to voice mail, but a text came in straight after.
I'll be there in twenty.
"I better have a shower, then," Blair said quietly, reading over my shoulder.
"We better have a shower."
She smiled thinly and climbed from the bed and I scrambled to follow her into the bathroom. We stood under the spray of water together, kissing, touching, washing each other, but something was different. A wall had gone back up and I knew it was because of that thing I said in the haze of my impending orgasm.
"I'm sorry if I overstepped the line," I said, circling body wash across Blair's chest.
"Don't worry about it." Her hands covered mine and she made me squeeze her breasts.
"I—"
"Don't sweat it, West. Furlough'll be here soon and I don't want him to bust in on me naked in the shower."
I knew she was avoiding talking about it, but it was my fault. We'd grown closer after last night, but there was still the fact that I had to get on a plane and go to fucking London in a few days. I'd be leaving her and after she confided in me, saying that to her… Fuck, I was such an insensitive wanker.
Cupping her cheek, I ran a thumb over her lips and my cock twitched again as she closed her eyes and leaned into my palm. I wanted to ask her to come with me, but that was the most selfish fucking thing I could do. She'd lost her job in the most spectacular way and that wasn't any fault of her own, I'd complicated her life a billion times over with my insane need for a connection, burdened her with the knowledge of my fucked-up downward spiral, and I wanted her to come with me? Shit, I was such an asshole.
I didn't even consider what she wanted, and what if she wanted to leave at the end of the week? I wouldn't blame her if she did, but fuck...I would fight to keep her.
She stepped out of the shower and I followed, watching her every move. Why the fuck did Furlough have to come now? It was like he fucking knew the right time to come in and break us apart like an unapproving parent. Truth was, that's exactly what he was doing even if he wouldn’t admit it. That man could go hot or cold in a millisecond.
Blair wrapped one of the hotel robes around her perfect body, tying the sash around her waist.
"How do I look?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
"I liked it better off."
A knock at the door broke us apa
rt and I wandered out into the room, pulling on a clean pair of boxers and jeans. Letting Furlough in, I didn't bother saying hello.
"Reception asked me to bring these up," he declared blandly, in full manager asshole mode. He tossed Blair's clothes on the bed like he was annoyed that he had to touch her stuff.
"What do you want, Furlough?" I asked, wanting his ass out of here as soon as possible. He was eating into the little time I had left with Blair.
"We need to have a serious talk about accountability."
"Accountability?" I scoffed.
He nodded to my hand, which wasn't really that bad. I'd forgotten about it, it was that insignificant.
Blair sighed loudly and scooped up her clothes. "I'm getting changed while you have your lover's tiff." A moment later the bathroom door slammed closed.
"Do you have to do this now?" I asked, waving a hand after her. "Can't you leave it for the ride to the airport?"
"It's now or never, West. You know me. Schedules and shit." He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did you really have to beat the guy? I know what you're going to say, but did it have to go the way it did?"
"Fuck you. In hindsight, maybe I didn't have to punch him repeatedly, but he deserved it."
"You could've broken your hand."
And there it was. Broken hand equaled cancelled shows. Money is power and power is money. Blah blah, fucking blah.
"I'd do it again," I said and just to piss him off more, I added, "I told her everything."
"West," Furlough said, straightening up, a look of absolute douchewaddery on his face. "You didn't…" He glanced to Blair, who'd just come out of the bathroom dressed in her own clothes.
"I fucking did."
"And what's to stop her from going to the press, hmm?" He looked her over like she was a problem he didn't want to have.
"The thought never crossed my mind," Blair declared, catching on to what we were semi-arguing about. "Who's a fucking judgmental asshole now?"
"How much money are you after?"
"Get fucked," she hissed, getting all up in Furlough's face. "I don't want your stinking cash. You can wipe your ass on it for all I care."