by MV Ellis
Crap. If she carries on like this, she’ll have me in tears with her, ruining my awesome makeup. Must. Keep. Strong. She’s positively brimming over with excitement and praise, commenting on each photo, naming her favorites, asking questions about all of them. She’s just starting to peter out when Dad kicks back in, all brusque and businesslike.
“So when am I going to meet him?” he barks.
“Who, Dad?” I know who he’s talking about, of course, but I’m trying to delay the inevitable awkward conversation.
“Don’t give me that, London, you’re not fooling me. Or anyone, for that matter. We have newspapers in Australia, we’ve been keeping up with your comings and goings. We know all about Paris.” Is there anyone in the known universe who doesn’t?
“And we have eyes.” He motions around him at the photos.
“I’m talking about this Arlo character—the man who has finally claimed your heart.”
He’s trying to look stern, and do the concerned father routine, but I can already see a grin breaking through the frown. He’s a silly old fart, my dad, but I love him madly.
“Danny had my heart, Dad. Besides, I didn’t say—”
“Yes, you did,” he interjects. “Maybe not in words, but it’s loud and clear in each and every one of these photos. What you had with Danny was beautiful, but it wasn’t this.”
Mom nods sagely in agreement.
I’m momentarily floored, standing there like a deer in headlights. I don’t know why I’m surprised—they know me better than anyone, but the overwhelming reality of what I’ve put into the world is beginning to sink in. I might as well have launched a viral video campaign accompanied by skywriting, announcing my love for Arlo. What a clusterfuck.
As if on cue, Arlo joins us. He smiles at me, then snakes his arm to my waist and begins stroking up and down my back. Instantly the goose bumps are back. I’m rooted to the spot, unable to respond.
He gives me a gentle but suggestive kiss on my neck, leaning in to me, smiling that private, sexy smile. He whispers almost inaudibly, “You’re stunning. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you right now.”
Something about the combination of his tone, the way he’s been looking at me all evening, and the emotional charge of the situation sends my libido spiraling into overdrive. I try to focus on something grim and unsexy like my high school math teacher, Mrs. Boorman, in an attempt to cool the heat rising through my body. Not even the vision of her resplendent in navy plaid, with a face like a slapped ass, is enough to extinguish the chemistry between us, or the heat between my legs.
Arlo turns his full attention and thousand-watt smile toward Mom and Dad. Again it strikes me that for someone who can often be a total dick, he can also be extremely charismatic when he chooses, and it really seems to come easy to him. He’s oozing affable charm out the wazoo tonight.
“Mr. and Mrs. Llwellyn, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I was starting to feel bad, spending so much time with your daughter, and hearing so much about you, but never having met you.”
He reaches out and takes Mom’s hand in both of his, kissing it, before shaking Dad’s.
“Please call us Karl and Anita. Mr. and Mrs. Llwellyn makes me feel ancient.” Dad beams.
He’s obviously not oblivious to Arlo’s charm—looks like it runs in the family.
“Karl, Anita, congratulations on raising such a strong, talented, and beautiful woman. It’s exactly those qualities, and a few others I won’t mention, that are the reason I fell in love with her pretty much the moment I met her, and more so every day.”
Oh my God. I cannot believe he just fucking said that! TO. MY. PARENTS. Whom he has only just met. And within earshot of more journalists you can shake a press pass at. Just great. I could literally throttle him right now, but somehow, I still can’t get it together to say anything—I think I’m in shock. In fact, I know I am. And fuming. I try, and no doubt fail, to maintain a neutral expression.
Dad doesn’t miss a beat—if he’s surprised by Arlo’s declaration, he’s got a better game face than me, though that’s not saying much!
“Oh yes, I could see how you’d be defenseless in the face of her charms. Everyone is.” Dad grins like a cheeky schoolboy.
Mom looks curiously back and forth between Arlo and me, no doubt noting the dynamics at play, but saying nothing.
“Oh, believe me, I was. Literally defenseless.” Arlo winks conspiratorially at Dad. If he’s not careful, he’ll soon be receiving another slap in the face to match the first. I’m mortified by this whole ordeal. As I stand there trying to collect my thoughts, Arlo plows on.
“Listen, I know you’ve only briefly had a chance to catch up with London, but I wondered if I could steal her away from you for a moment for a quick chat?”
“A chat? Whatever you say.” Dad smirks.
Make it stop. Anything to end this torture. Anything. Right now I’d rather be orbiting one of the nine circles of hell than here.
Arlo pulls me to his chest, one arm still grasping my waist as he brings the other up to cup my cheek. Momentarily, I think he’s going to top off the most mortifying experience of my life by going in for the full passionate kiss with my parents gawping at us from two inches away, but thankfully, he leans down and whispers, ”I need to talk to you upstairs.”
“I….” I’m not even sure what I want to say, and before I can formulate a coherent thought, Arlo continues.
“No ifs or buts. Let’s go. Now.”
He sounds pretty definite, and I don’t have the energy to argue. Plus, the last thing I want to do is make this into any more of a spectacle than it already is.
Arlo turns to speak to my parents again.
“So nice to have met you both, and hopefully we can catch up again while you’re here. Excuse us.”
He gives them a genuine, wide smile, before leading me toward the stairs. I want to argue that I can’t leave my own launch party early, especially not with him, but I swallow my words. I’ve got to pick my battles, and right now, there are too many to choose from.
As though reading my mind, Arlo mutters under his breath, “Don’t worry, us disappearing together will just add to the story, and you know what they say about publicity.”
He definitely believes the adage that all publicity is good publicity, but I’d really rather not have my private life dragged through the press any more than it already has been. A brief hush ripples through the room as we climb the stairs, although everyone tries to pretend that they’re not watching us leave. Great. I guess we’ll be reading all about it in the gossip columns tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-five
Arlo leads me into my office, kicking the door closed behind us, and immediately turns toward me. “Arlo—”
“Shhh. Are you trying to kill me or something?” He’s deadly serious.
“Huh?” I’ve got no idea what he’s talking about.
“Strutting around in that outfit, looking good enough to fucking eat, and me on the other side of the room watching every guy in the place salivating over you.” He stalks nearer to me, and traces the neckline of my shirt with his index finger, letting it come to rest at my cleavage. He pauses before sliding his hand under the fabric and grabbing my breast. The intensity of the feeling that washes over me takes my breath away.
“Arlo,” I warn, feeling my resolve crumbling.
“No.”
“What?” I say, confused.
“No to whatever you’re about to say. Whatever words of reason you’re conjuring up to try to convince us that what we want isn’t the right thing. No to everything but this.”
He squeezes my breast a little harder and slips the other hand into my hair, I’m sure disturbing my loose updo. He tilts my head back. Before I can raise any objections, his mouth is pressing down fervently on mine. My body responds immediately, returning his passion without hesitation, and as our lips collide, I quiver. I want him more than I thought possible.
I’m so intoxicated
with arousal that I almost don’t notice Arlo slipping my shirt off my shoulders as my hands roam all over him, reacquainting myself with his ridiculously fine form. His eyes sweep appreciatively over me.
“Holy-motherfucking-shit,” he exhales. “How is it that you’re hotter every time I see you?”
I step back a few paces and hold my hand up between us.
“Arlo, you can’t just… we need to—”
“Fuck.” He interrupts me. “The only thing we need to do right now is fuck. I don’t know about you, but the anticipation is killing me. I need to get it out of my system before I go out of my mind.”
“But—”
“Tog, why are you always trying to fight this? I swear I’ve never met a more stubborn woman. It’s a shame that you’re such a pain in the butt, really, given that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
My breath catches in my throat.
He’s right. It’s almost as though denying my feelings for him has become a habit, rather than a necessity. While the guilt I initially felt over Danny hasn’t completely eroded, for a while now, I’ve been able to see that moving on from what we had doesn’t make me a bad person. Nor do the differences in the love I have for the two wildly different men.
The cliché that everyone is in your life for a season or a reason is spot-on. What Danny and I had was real and genuine and beautiful, but that was then, and this is now. This thing with Arlo is different. Not better, or worse, but unique to us, and to now. I’m not the same London I was then, and I never will be. Danny will always have a place in my heart, but the rest of it, the lion’s share, belongs lock, stock, and barrel to Arlo Jones.
I know things with us got off to a pretty bad start, but so much has changed since then that it’s almost as though we are two different people now. Plus, if there’s one thing I’ve learned during our time apart, it’s that my feelings for Arlo aren’t going anywhere. In fact, they’re growing stronger by the day. It’s not just lust either. Yes, on a basic level, I’m so attracted to him it’s painful to be near him without touching, and when we do touch, I’m overcome with desire. But if it were just sexual chemistry, it would be far easier to ignore. There’s no chance of that. I can’t deny that we have an emotional connection drawing us to each other.
Yes, I’ve missed the physical side of our relationship, but I’ve also missed just hanging out with Arlo, talking and laughing. I miss how close we became when we were living in each other’s pockets on tour. I loved being in his company, and while we might not have had a friendship before the tour, we definitely had one afterward. Being with him 24/7, I learned a lot about the sides of Arlo that the public doesn’t often see—the man who is caring, thoughtful, loyal, patient, selfless, generous, and fiercely protective. The man I could love for a long time to come.
“Now let’s make that desk fantasy of yours a reality.”
He swipes his hand across my desk, knocking most of the contents onto the floor in one fell swoop. Well, I guess that’s one way to deal with the mountain of paperwork that’s been spiraling out of control while I’ve been immersed in this project. It beats filing, that’s for sure.
“That fantasy was about screwing on your desk, not mine. Plus, this isn’t even my desk anymore, my tenancy is over at the end of the exhibit. Imagine what the new owner or tenant would say if they knew what had happened on top of it.”
“Your desk, my desk, same, same. Besides, there’s no need to worry about the new owner—I know for a fact that they’ll be more than satisfied with what’s about to happen on their desk.’’
“What? How can you be so sure?”
“Well, I’m about to show her such a good time that she’ll barely remember her name once we’re done, let alone worry about the state of her desk.”
“What are talking about?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” He grins at the thought of whatever secret he’s harboring.
“I guess not, huh? Well… I’ve bought this place. For you. It’s in your name, the paperwork’s all sorted through the lawyers. It’s yours.”
“Arlo, what the fuck?” I’m utterly dumbfounded. Blindsided again.
“What? You said yourself how much you love the place, how it’s ideal for your needs—a studio to shoot in downstairs, and the office upstairs— and you’d be looking for something similar to rent after the showing, so…?”
“Yeah, I know all that, but you can’t just go out and buy me a building!” I literally cannot believe it.
“I don’t see why not. You love it. I love you. I want you to be happy. This will make you happy. It’s a no-brainer. Now quit whining, it’s done.”
I catch that gleam in his emerald eyes, and I’m putty in his hands.
“But—”
I let him pull me in close to his chest and silence me with a deep and passionate kiss. God, I love this man. I. Love. This. Man. I feverishly return his kiss, nipping his lips, clawing at his clothes at the same time. I let him push my pants down, and then I pull my top off over my head.
“Fuck me!” mutters Arlo between kisses. I knew he’d appreciate the view.
“I’m about to,” I reply, yanking at his fly.
His cock springs free. Trust Arlo to be free-balling, even on an occasion like this. Not that I’m complaining—I love the easy access going commando provides. I run my hand up and down the length of his huge erection. Perfection.
He gently eases back from the kiss so he can look into my eyes. His gaze is so intense I can hardly bear to return it. His startlingly green eyes smolder with desire and love. After what seems like an eternity, he finally speaks.
“This right here. You, me. What we’re feeling right now. This is everything. You know that, right?” His voice, just above a whisper, is barely audible.
I nod, too overcome to trust myself to speak. But I do know. I know there’s nowhere I’d rather be, and nobody I’d rather be with than right here, right now with him.
“Good.” He pushes me down onto the desk it. Lying on my back, I stretch my legs up into the air, crossing them at the ankles, which I rest gently against Arlo’s shoulder. He takes in the view, desire burning bright in his eyes.
“Jesus, woman, you’re going to be the death of me.” He pulls a condom from his wallet and rolls it on before reaching down to clutch my butt, thrusting into me at the same time. Hard.
“Ooooooooooh” is all I can muster. My stomach flips, and I feel like my insides are alive with butterflies.
“Yeah,” says Arlo, thrusting harder.
My body takes over, opening up to him, taking him deep. We pick up momentum, each thrust pushing him further inside me. At this angle, his size is almost too much to bear, so I bring my feet down from his shoulder, to rest either side of him, on the edge of the desk. Arlo lowers himself down on top of me, always maintaining eye contact, every thrust bringing us both closer to climax, and I know it won’t be long before we come together.
I’m the first to let go, my muscles clenching, gripping Arlo tighter, taking him over the edge with me. The pleasure is indescribable and almost unbearable. As the last shocks tear through my body, I convulse beneath Arlo, who is lost in his own release. I find myself suddenly crying uncontrollably. Huge, heavy tears cascade down my face, and I can’t seem to make them stop. Not even the worry of ruining my makeup is enough to stem the tide. I don’t know when I turned into such a crybaby; it’s so not like me. At least it didn’t used to be.
Arlo looks at me questioningly, raising an eyebrow and gently wiping away my tears as he waits for my explanation. I lean up on my elbows so I can return his gaze. I see love, desire, arousal—it’s all there. Volumes of unspoken words pass between the two of us. He’s an open book to me, and I’m the same to him. Finally, when I feel a little more in control, I speak.
“I love you, Arlo. I’m in love with you,” I confess.
He cracks the biggest shit-eating grin, before speaking.
“Worst kept secret in showbiz, babe.”
He gives me his signature wink.
“What now?”
I wonder if I’ll ever have the upper hand with him. I’m beginning to suspect not.
“Well, I know that, and after seeing those photos, that room full of people downstairs knows it too. Hell, it’s probably all over social media as we speak, so it looks like you’re the last one to be invited to your own love party.” He’s chuckling now. “If that’s not enough, you mumbled it in your sleep in Paris. But even before that, when you told me that you were scared of us, even though you didn’t come right out and say it, I knew. Those big feelings you were fighting, the guilt about Danny, all of it. Why would you be struggling with any of that if you didn’t love me?
“And why the hell else do you think I agreed so readily to put some distance between us? It’s the last thing I wanted, but I did it hoping that being away from me would show you how much you wanted to be with me. I gotta tell you, the waiting damn near killed me. Ask the boys—I was a fucking basket case for most of it. If I didn’t have an ego the size of a small planet, I’d be offended by the fact that you’ve been trying to talk yourself out of loving me for so long.”
I regain my composure enough to respond.
“But….”
“You’re not still searching for reasons not to be with me, are you, Tog?”
“No, but—” I don’t even know what I want to say, and I know that resistance is futile anyway, my feelings are taking me in one direction and one direction only, and that’s into Arlo’s arms.
“That’s right, no buts. This shit’s getting real. Hell, while we’re putting our cocks on the block, I might as well go the whole hog and let it all out. Again.”
He cricks his neck from side to side before gently cupping my cheeks in his hands, fixing me with the same intense emerald stare that stole my attention the first time we met.