How Good It Was, page 25
“Jesus Christ. What the fuck is in the water in California? What do you mean, deal?”
“For a fee, my dad introduced the two of us. Ansel came on sweet and charming. We became a darling couple and, yes, had sex, because I thought he had real feelings for me. Until he cheated on me with Amie Saint, the former porn star and lead singer of that punk band, Remedy.”
“Dick.” Luke turned his back on the sunrise to face her. “I still don’t get it, though. Why?”
“He was stuck in rom-com roles. Wanted to shift gears but was typecast. Not to be too crass about it, but he made out with the princess, then fucked her over with the bad bitch so he’d look less attractive to rom-com producers. Then, he buffed up, inked up, got a tongue piercing, and now he’s the action hero of some famous space alien trilogy.”
“Well, I have heard some stupid shit in my time, but that’s messed up. Have you thought about exposing him? Or the director? Or even your dad?”
“I have. I continue to grapple with it. Especially when that big movie producer was toppled recently and all his old sexual assaults on young actresses came to light The huge public scrutiny those women went through. I’m not sure I’m strong enough.”
Luke placed his hand over her shoulder. “I’m pretty certain you are a lot stronger than you think.”
And his words settled in her bones as she watched the sun turn the sky orange on the longest day of the year.
18
Luke lazily slid his arms further around Willow’s waist, pulling her tighter to his chest. He loved the feel of her, the softness of her skin, the musky warmth of her. When he woke like this, wrapped around her, he felt grounded.
Less panicked.
Thanks to the session he’d had with Neil three days earlier, he’d begun to realise that the tight ball that existed in his chest most of the time was anxiety.
When Neil had suggested he consider medication to bring it down, they’d debated the merits in his case. While he had no doubt they worked and were great for so many people, Luke had refused. Drugs were his nemesis. Substituting coke with something prescribed felt like switching one numbing agent for something else he’d need to quit later. And he needed to feel and face his demons to conquer them. He’d spent most of his life trying to bury them. Plus, the conversations were helping. This was the worst he’d ever be.
The trip to Brighton had helped. So had the conversation with Willow when they’d returned home.
Suddenly, he’d become aware of everything. Dust motes in a ray of sunshine. The scent of water. How cool the air became when he opened the fridge door. The texture of his sheet against his skin. And he didn’t want that to end.
Because, for once in his life, he felt an ease and comfort in his own skin that surpassed anything artificial stimulants could provide.
“Happy album release day,” Willow mumbled from beneath his arm and the covers bundled up over her.
How had he momentarily forgot, so caught up in simply being, that the day they had all worked for was finally here? His stomach flipped with excitement.
“Thank you,” he said, pressing his nose to the side of her neck before kissing her. “Happy Fourth of July.”
Her body moved against his, a sudden flare of awareness that she was naked, and he had at least an hour before he had to be out the door to the BBC Studios at Salford Quays for their first interview of the day.
“Slide this up over my thigh, flower,” he said, pulling her leg back so she opened for him. Pleasure flowed through him as she did what he said, leaving her open to his exploration. He rubbed his hand over her stomach. There was no hiding her bump now, and watching it grow, watching Willow’s body change, feeling it beneath his fingertips and lips was intoxicating.
He’d Googled it, whether it was normal for a man to be that turned on by his partner’s pregnant body. He’d been surprised to find a split. Those who found the changes a turn off, and those, like him, who felt their attraction to their partners grow. For him, it was the intimacy of it. Something they’d created, something she was doing for the three of them.
It was raw.
And inspiring.
He slid his hand lower, easing to her clit and lips, a slow and steady slide over her. Not paying attention to any one area in particular. When she sighed and lazily rolled her hips so her arse pressed up against his dick, he tensed.
“Stay still,” he grumbled.
“It feels good.” He could hear the happiness in her voice.
“I know, flower. Roll onto your back a little more. I need a little more space to work my magic.”
She did as he said, turning her face to his as she did so. He loved her lips in the morning. So fucking soft, he could nibble on them. “You get me every time,” he muttered as he kissed her, finding it hard to believe the way she responded to him.
Their tongues met, unhurried.
Fucking hot.
He slid his index finger inside her, catching her exhale in his breath.
“Luke,” she sighed.
Rising onto his elbow, he kissed the curve of her breast, savouring the slightly salty taste of her skin. When he sucked her nipple into his mouth, her back arched off the bed. Yeah, he knew that combination was her Kryptonite. Finger deep, and hard draws on her breast. He could feel every flinch and spasm as her body took over.
Leading her to the edge, he loved watching her fall over.
Normally, he’d go lower. Lick and suck on a different set of lips so he could be right in the heat of her when she came. But today, he just wanted to kiss her.
He moved back to her face. Kissing her cheek, the tip of her nose. Her eyelids. Even her forehead before he returned to her smile.
“Kiss me, flower,” he instructed, and she did as he said, her hand lazily slipping around the back of his head to hold him to her.
Increasing his strokes, he added another finger. Circled her clit with his thumb. And he matched the slide of his tongue to his fingers.
“Luke,” she cried.
Willow’s breath shortened to gasps. Kissing her as she fell apart was his favourite thing. As she battled the need to cry out with the need for his mouth against hers. When she forgot about absolutely everything except her own release.
He fucking loved it.
And shit.
He loved her.
The realisation almost as intense as her orgasm.
It wasn’t like. It wasn’t even pure lust. He couldn’t lie to himself any more than she could hide the way she fell apart in his arms.
“Good morning,” she muttered, breathlessly.
Luke rolled onto his back. “Ride me, flower.”
Willow did as he asked, reaching between them to hold his cock before easing down on him.
“Fuck. That feels good,” he said, reaching for her hips. He watched as her lips spread around his cock as she eased up and then soaked him as she lowered. Her hips rolled as she seated herself, grinding her clit against him.
While her arms and waist remained the same, her breasts felt larger, and heavy in his hands. And her stomach. Fuck.
“Faster?” she asked, her eyes focused on him.
“Nah. Slow. I want to fuck you good and slow and deep this morning.”
Willow smiled, and it knocked him on his arse. Well, figuratively, as he was already flat on his back, but who the fuck cared. “That sounds good,” she said, planting her palms on his chest.
He released her hip and cupped her face. “I could lose myself in you, Will.”
Her eyes flickered shut for a moment, as she eased down on him, seating him so deep inside, he could feel her pulse around him. For a second, he wondered if it was possible to come just from that pressure alone.
“I’m pretty certain we aren’t losing ourselves, Luke. I think we are finding ourselves.”
“So fucking wise.” His palms travelled along her spine to her arse, then back again, pulling her down until they were flush. Her breasts and stomach pushed up against him.
He kissed her as he moved a fraction, a slight withdrawal, a reseating. Just enough motion and friction to keep him on the edge, but hitting Willow exactly where she needed it.
Their eyes met. Focused. Intense. He couldn’t see anything but her. Didn’t want anyone but her. “I love you, Willow,” he gasped, feeling every part of her on him, the scent of her around him.
“You do?” she asked. The crack in her voice slicing through his heart.
“Yeah, flower. I do. I love you. Don’t go anywhere, yeah? At least, not without me.”
Willow placed her forehead on his shoulder. The sound she made was part sob, part gasp. Then, he felt the shudders, through her ribs, beneath his fingers. And he pulled her closer, held her tighter, wanting to take whatever had upset her away. Tears tingled in his eyes, and holy shit, somehow sex had turned into something . . .
Soul baring. Or soul destroying.
“Don’t cry, flower. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.” The words were muffled but he heard them all the same.
He reached for her cheeks and lifted her head gently. When he saw the tears, he brushed them away with his thumbs. “Explain to me why you’re crying.”
“Happy tears,” she confirmed. “A bit overwhelmed. Slightly orgasmic. You love me. And I’m pretty sure I love you. It’s scary. And incredible. And overwhelming. And not how I thought I wanted it to go.”
Luke kissed her chastely. “That’s a lot of thinking and feeling.”
“For seven o’clock in the morning, it most definitely is. But I do love you.”
He rolled them over, so she was beneath him, and began to move. “I still don’t understand how everything I thought I didn’t want ended up becoming everything I need, but I’m fucking glad you are here and that we get to do this together.”
Willow raised her knees and gripped his sides. “Same.”
Home.
Everything about her felt like home. Doe eyes filled with love for him. The way her body anchored him, held him safe. The way she took him as he was, knowing when he was at rock bottom, and being with him every step of the way back to the top.
“Will,” he groaned as his pace increased. “Never been like this.” The words felt punctuated, grunted out between breaths.
It hadn’t. It was overwhelming, terrifying, and yet the most natural thing in the world.
“Come with me,” he said, before kissing her, tangling his tongue with hers. Tasting her. Savouring her.
His balls tightened. God, he needed to come. Shifting his bodyweight slightly, he cupped her arse, holding her open to him.
Willow’s eyes went wide, her mouth formed an O as she came again, her channel squeezing the life out of his cock, sending her over the edge with him.
For a moment, everything outside the two of them ceased to exist.
Her breath brushed his cheek as she gasped for air.
Slowly, he eased both of them down, then playfully pulled her into a bear hug so he could nibble at her neck. “Can’t keep my hands off you,” he growled as she squealed.
“Luke, stop. Please,” she gasped, trying to fend off his hands as he tickled her.
“No. That got heavy. And now, we need this.” The sound of her laughter filled the room. When she managed to tug the pillow from beneath her head, she started to smack him with it.
“Watch it, Warner,” he said, rising to his knees and grabbing his own. “Oof,” he grunted as she caught him good on the side of the head. He swung his pillow at her, catching her softly in the shoulder.
“Hey, you’re going to knock me off the bed,” she cried.
He tossed his pillow away and grabbed her again, settling them down on the bed. “Never. I’ll never let you fall.”
Her hand touched his cheek. “I know.”
“I feel happy. Like, deep down in my bones happy. And it’s been a long time since I felt that way. When I said I love you, I meant it. I truly do.”
Willow sighed as she smiled. “I’m glad you’re happy. I think you’ve earned it. Happiness. Our love,” she said, putting her hand on her stomach. “I feel your world is changing for good. I just hope when you get through all this, you still want me.”
Luke placed his hand over the top of hers. “It’s because of you and this that my world is changing. And whatever it looks like at the end, if you aren’t there, then I don’t want it. I know those are just words, but I promise, Willow. I’m going to spend the rest of our lives showing you just how much I’ll pick you a thousand times over.”
“It’s not rock ’n’ roll enough, is it?” she said to Chaya who stood next to her.
“Erm. There’s a chocolate fountain.” Chaya’s hair had been blow-dried pin-straight, and her smoky eye was perfect.
“Are you saying it’s too much?” Willow asked. She glanced down at her black halter dress that had just enough support for her breasts and hugged her bump. Currently barefoot, she planned to shove her feet into heels just before the boys arrived.
“Chill, mate. It’s really freaking sweet.”
She’d had the idea to throw them a family party to celebrate the album release as they’d driven home from Brighton. But she’d found their venue, The Midland Hotel, after getting off the tram at St. Peter’s Square to hit the Starbucks. The wonderfully ornate hotel was nearly a hundred and twenty years old. She’d become obsessed with its history.
A call to Simon, the band’s manager, had confirmed he could get the band there by seven. Then, she’d texted everybody but the band to make sure they could come.
“I should have booked something in a nightclub.”
Cerys wandered over to them, looking gorgeous in her gunmetal grey dinner jacket with nothing underneath and slim pants. “What should you have done in a nightclub?”
“This,” she gestured around furiously.
Cerys shook her head. “Nan probably wouldn’t have come if you’d held it at the nightclub.”
Chaya looked to where Nan sat in a floral dress. Next to her were Ben and Alex’s parents, both of whom looked subdued. “And then, we would have missed out on the fairy cakes with our initials on it.”
“They are so freaking cute.” Willow had taken a photograph of them. Two fairy cakes for each person with their initials on it in little silver balls. There were even a little CE and CH to make sure Cerys and Chaya didn’t take the wrong ones.
“Watch when the lads get here,” Cerys added. “They are like putty when it comes to Nan’s fairy cakes. Rumour has it she has extras in that ginormous shopping bag of hers.”
“It looks beautiful,” Zoe said as she joined them.
“Thank you,” Willow signed in response. She couldn’t expand much beyond that because she’d only just started to learn sign language, but she wanted to try whenever she could.
“Shouldn’t you be sitting down or something?” Izabel said as she bounced over in a pretty pink dress.
Willow laughed and pointed down to her toes, which she wiggled. “I’m living up to the whole barefoot and pregnant stereotype.” Her phone vibrated in her palm. “Oh, this is probably Simon letting me know the guys are on their way. One second.”
She answered her phone as she stepped away from the group. “Hello.”
“Willow, it’s mom.”
Tears pricked Willow’s eyes, and the same time, anger churned in her stomach. “Mom. You haven’t called or replied to any of my texts. I’ve been worried. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, sweetheart. But I’m worried about you. All of this is so unlike you. Everyone is worried.”
“Why didn’t you call me back? Did Dad tell you not to?”
There was a pause, too long.
“It’s complicated. The lawyers and things. You understand.”
“No. I don’t understand, Mom. You had to know. All the money I earned paid for your lifestyle. Please, help me get what’s mine. I won’t leave you broke and out on the street. That’s not what I want.”
“It’s not what I want, either. I want us all back together . . . well, I . . . you have to stop this lawsuit. It’s not good for the family. And I saw your post. I can’t believe you didn’t tell us in person that you were pregnant.”
“Did you know what Dad was doing?”
Another pause. “Your dad didn’t do anything wrong. We gave you every opportunity to film when you were younger. It’s only right that we were entitled to some payment at the time for the sacrifices.”
“Do you really believe that, Mom?” She’d always hoped that her mom loved her. For who she was, not what she could do for her. To hear her confirm that she’d been in it for the money severed the last thread of hope Willow ever had.
The pause was long, but this time, as the noise in the room ebbed momentarily, she heard it. A whisper so faint she almost missed it.
“Dad,” she said, realising her mom sounded hollow because she must be on speaker phone.
“Willow. You’re a hard girl to get hold of.” Her dad’s voice grated over the phone line, and she was relieved she couldn’t see his face.
“We aren’t meant to be talking directly to each other.”
“Oh, I know. I just wondered if our messages were getting muddled when we talked through lawyers.”
Willow sighed as she glanced out of the window. “What do you want?”
“You need to drop this action by Friday, or I’ll be changing track in how I make this problem go away.”
“All you need is a fake evil laugh at the end of the sentence, Dad. Are you trying to be threatening?” she said, her voice sounding way more confident than she actually felt.
“It’s not a threat, Willow. I want our status quo back. You’re out of control. Getting knocked up. Flying around the world on a whim. Dropping responsibilities. Come back. I’ll manage you, and our life goes on. We can put this stupidity behind us once you’ve covered my lawyers’ fees. But if you don’t, then I need to try something different.”
“I will vigorously defend myself against any conservatorship move, and we have already moved pre-emptively to block that.”
