Your Endless Love

by Layla Hagen

  I roll a condom on. Sitting upright, I pull Summer into my lap. I grip my erection at the base, running it along her slit, feeling her quivers every time I nudge her entrance, gobbling up her moans when I tease her clit.

  I enter her slowly, stopping to kiss her after every inch I push inside. No matter how much she thrashes, I have the control. When I’m buried inside her to the base, neither of us move for a while. I just hold her, feeling her pulse around my cock.

  Her frantic heartbeats reverberate against my chest. Our torsos are flush against each other, my hands palming her ass, keeping her right where I want her. When she starts rolling her hips, I guide our movements, keeping the rhythm as slow as I can stand. I know it drives her crazy, because I’m hanging on to a tether of control too. But the buildup is so much more powerful, and the slow rhythm allows me to kiss as much of her as I can reach. When her inner muscles start to clench around me, she whispers, “Alex, please. Oh, please. Let me come. Please.”

  She begs so sweetly that it completely undoes me. I swipe my thumb on her clit. She comes within seconds.

  I love her through her orgasm, not giving her any reprieve. My insides strum with tension. Every muscle burns and spasms as I ride her harder, until she comes a second time, and takes me over the edge with her.

  I hold her tight to me afterward. She’s leaning her head on my bicep, her nose close enough to brush my nipple with every breath. It tickles the hell out of me, but I hold it together, not wanting to move her. I love seeing her all spent and worn out because of me. But eventually, I do have to move her so I can sort out the condom.

  “Shower?” she murmurs.

  “Let’s go.”

  I scoop her up in my arms, carrying her to the bathroom. When we pass by the door connecting us to the living room, she sniffs the air.

  “Do I smell fries?” She sniffs some more. “And cinnamon rolls?”

  I laugh. “LA’s finest, just for you.”

  “They were here when I arrived?”

  “Yep.”

  “I can’t believe you distracted me so much I didn’t realize it.” She gives me a thumbs-up just as I cross the threshold to the bathroom. “What’s the schedule for the weekend? Last I looked, you only had an interview Saturday morning and Sunday in the evening.”

  “It hasn’t changed. I’m all yours in between, Summer.”

  “Excellent. I have so many plans for us.”

  I start the shower, getting us both wet. “Is that so? Like what?”

  She shrugs a shoulder, soaping me up. “Have a little faith in my abilities to surprise you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Summer

  “Mmm, stop it,” I mutter, trying to block out the voices. Blinking open one eye, I notice the room is bathed in light. With a sigh, I stretch on the king-sized bed, focusing on the voices filtering in from the living room. The connecting door is shut, but I recognize the speakers: Alex, Preston, and Amy.

  I search my memory, trying to recall Alex’s schedule, but I’m fairly certain he didn’t have a meeting planned Thursday morning. With an uneasy jolt in my stomach, I push myself out of bed and hurry to the bathroom to brush my teeth and comb my hair. Crap, I don’t have anything to wear. My suitcase is in my room, which is further down the corridor. Yesterday’s clothes are piled up next to the bed, and the shirt is too wrinkled to be wearable. I have no choice but to throw on a robe. Not exactly the attire I want to wear the first time I meet Amy, but I soldier on, heading to the living room.

  “Hey, babe, I’m sorry, did we wake you up?” Alex asks. He’s sitting in one of the armchairs, a tight smile on his face.

  “I had to get up at some point,” I say, sweeping my gaze to the others. Preston sits in the armchair opposite Alex, fingers laced on top of his head. Amy waves at me from the couch.

  “Hey, Summer. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  I relax when I take in her appearance. She’s wearing jeans and a hoodie, and her hair is piled up in a messy bun. I walk up to her to shake her hand, which is when I notice her eyes are red and a little puffy. Has she been crying?

  “What’s going on?” I ask, returning to Alex.

  “Box office predictions for Bree Shannon Finds Love #2 went live last night,” Preston explains. “They’re down 20 percent even from the studio’s worst-case scenario.”

  “But these are just predictions, right?” I ask, stepping just behind Alex’s armchair, resting my hand on his shoulder.

  Preston shakes his head. “They’re very accurate.”

  “Everyone in the industry takes them at face value,” Amy continues. “And word travels fast. I’d been considering three scripts. This morning my manager got calls regarding two of them. Apparently, they already decided to go with another actress. Translation: no one wants to cast someone with a box office bomb as their leading lady.”

  I squeeze Alex’s shoulder.

  “I’ve heard from the studio this morning,” Preston says, looking from Amy to Alex. “They want you two to fake a reunion and keep up the charade for one month until after the premiere. Anything to get fans to shell out money at the box office. You need to be seen in public. The more displays of affection, the better. Alex, you could even fake moving in with Amy. You two know the drill.”

  Amy rearranges her messy bun. “Sam won’t like it, but I was afraid it might come to this.”

  I go very still, even though my heart’s hammering like it’s about to leap out of my chest. Did I hear them right? Just like that, they’re supposed to stage a reunion and keep up the charade for six weeks? The thought of them kissing slices at me. Preston is right, they know the drill... last time they had to pretend, the fake romance led to a real romance. They were engaged for God’s sake.

  What if they get carried away with all the fake kisses and fall back in love? A lump settles in my throat, blocking my words of protest.

  “No,” Alex says quietly. “Out of the question.”

  I haven’t even realized he’s laid his hand over mine over his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

  “Alex, be reasonable.” Preston focuses on our interlinked hands, then snaps his gaze up to me. “Summer, this is business. Surely you understand?”

  Clearing my throat, I say, “No, actually. I don’t. I think honesty is the only way to go. From where I stand, it looks like the problems started because the studio relied on the fake relationship in the first place.”

  Amy throws her hands up, her eyes becoming glassy. “Who cares? It’s up to us to fix it. We agreed to it in the first place, so it’s not like we’re innocent. And if this will fix things, I’m all for it. Do you know how hard it is to get roles once you’ve got a box office failure of this magnitude hanging around your neck? I don’t want to do B-movies for the rest of my life.”

  Alex interlaces his fingers with mine, brushing the side of my palm with his thumb.

  “Look, I’m willing to do anything to bring in more sales. Anything honest. The studio knows I don’t shy away from hard work. Hard and honest work. I want this movie to succeed as much as anyone else. But I will not lie to the fans. And my relationship with Summer is too important,” he says. His words wash over me, melting my worries and insecurities away. He holds my hand tightly, as if he knows. As if he understands. “If you care about Sam at all—”

  “Don’t pretend you know how I feel,” Amy snaps. “Sam understands how this industry works.”

  “This isn’t the time to choose the high road,” Preston says calmly. “You don’t want to have the reputation of an actor difficult to work with. On top of a possible box office bomb.”

  “I don’t want the reputation of an actor willing to sacrifice his personal life for ticket sales. That’s not how I want to build my career.”

  Amy sniffs, wiping her nose with her sleeves. “You’re being selfish. And you’re talking like that just because you have another franchise in the works. If you were scrambling for roles like me, you wouldn’t have this holier-than-thou
attitude.”

  “Alex—” Preston begins, but Alex cuts him off.

  “This is my final word. If this is why you called this meeting, you’re wasting your time. I have a photo shoot in two hours, and I want to have breakfast first.”

  Alex and Preston exchange a glance, rising to their feet.

  “Alex, don’t be a stubborn mule,” Amy says from the doorway. “You can exercise your newly found ethic compass after we’ve saved this from becoming a stinker.”

  Preston doesn’t say one thing as he leads Amy out of the room. The second the door closes, Alex guides me around the armchair, pulling me in his lap, bringing his lips to my temple, raining kisses down to my jaw, then further down on my neck.

  “Alex, I’m sorry about the box office. How can I help?”

  “You already are helping,” he whispers. “By being here.”

  He rubs his thumb across my jawbone, pulling me into a kiss. Oh God, how he kisses me. Like I’m his lifeline, like he needs my strength more than anything else. I give him everything I have, hoping it’s enough.

  “I felt you go rigid when Preston said Amy and I should start faking it again,” he whispers, trailing his mouth down on my neck.

  “I’m sorry... I... I want to support your career, Alex. I don’t mind hiding from paps or even being chased by them when we eventually go public. But I couldn’t watch you in a fake relationship....”

  He stops trailing kisses, snapping his head up until our gazes are level.

  “I know. You don’t have to explain. Or apologize. I understand perfectly.”

  “But what if the studio changes their mind about the superhero spin-off? You haven’t signed that contract yet after all, right?”

  “No, it’s all been informal, but I don’t like to think in what-ifs. We’ll cross that bridge if it comes to it.”

  “Okay.”

  He resumes kissing my neck, nibbling at my clavicle. I settle my knees at his sides, wedging them between his thighs and the armrest, kissing what I can reach of him, touching the rest.

  “I don’t want to go to that photo shoot,” he murmurs, unfastening my robe. “I want to stay here with you.”

  He pushes the tank I’ve slept in up, baring me to him, feathering his thumbs on the undersides of my breasts, until my nipples harden. Then he rolls each between his thumb and forefinger until I gasp.

  “Alex!”

  I scramble out of his lap, fastening my robe again. “You don’t have time for this, mister. Your photo shoot will start soon, so go. Chop, chop. You can think about this,” I gesture to my body, “all day. It’ll be your bonus.”

  He traps me with his molten gaze, licking his lips. I press my thighs together, quenching the sudden ache. To think, I could be feeling his tongue on me right now.... It’s messing with my determination to shove him outside the door. Oh goodness, what’s a girl to do when Alex unleashes his smolder on her? Surely I’m not expected to resist him. He rises from his armchair, stalking toward me without a word. He pushes my shirt up again, taking one nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue over it until my toes curl.

  “For good luck,” he mutters, smiling against my skin. Then he straightens up. Damn. Just when I was going to succumb to the dark side, he decides to behave. Just my luck.

  I bare my other breast too, batting my eyelashes at him.

  “For the best luck?”

  Grinning like the devil he is, he swipes his tongue once over what I’m offering, before covering me.

  “Go get them, Westbrook. Charm America with your smolder. I can’t wait to have the results in my grubby hands.”

  “I’ll ask the photographer to give me some samples to bring to you. And that smolder? Just know I’ll be thinking about you the entire time. Only you.”

  ***

  After Alex leaves, I call my cousin Valentina Connor. It’s been a few months since I saw her, which is a few months too many.

  “Hey, girl,” she greets me.

  “Val, hey! I’m in LA right now.”

  “Shut the front door. Since when? Until when? You’re not leaving without us meeting, or the bad vibes I’ll send you will reach you faster than karma.”

  I grin. “Relax, Val. Of course we’re meeting. That’s why I’m calling. I’d love to see all of you. Are Friday dinners still a thing in the Connor clan?”

  “Of course. It’ll be a thing until we’re ninety or toothless, whichever comes first.”

  “Great. At what time should I stop by tomorrow?”

  “Dinner’s at seven, but I’ll be home at six.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be there at six. See you tomorrow, Val.”

  The next day, I’m bumbling through shops in search of a gift. The Connors are family, but I don’t like to go to anyone’s home empty-handed. I love shopping in LA as much as I love taking leisurely strolls. We might still be in California, but LA has such a different vibe than San Francisco, we might as well be on another continent. At least that’s how it seems to me. The pace is different than in the Bay area, for one. Plus, the artistic vibe is strong here. I’m about to enter a shop selling hand-sewn tablecloths when Alex calls. Weird! According to his schedule, he should be in a meeting with Preston right now.

  “Hey,” I greet. “Finally realized they’re exploiting you and you lobbied for a longer break?”

  “No, but the atmosphere in the meeting room was so tense, we needed a breather.”

  “Why?”

  “The studio called Preston. They’re pulling the plug on the spin-off.”

  “Oh God.” The other shoe dropped freaking fast.

  “Yeah. They’ve read the box office forecast.”

  My throat tightens. “But that’s bullshit. Why are they using predictions for a romantic comedy to make decisions for a superhero franchise?”

  “Because there’s enough crossover in terms of fans, and because they don’t have much else to base their decisions on.”

  “Why aren’t they waiting for the movie in the main superhero series to come out?”

  “Because that’s an ensemble cast. They’re afraid I can’t carry a franchise on my own, that I’m not enough of a box office draw without the group. Preston was right about one thing. They’ve labeled me as difficult. No one wants a diva on their hands.”

  I fix my gaze on the beautifully sewn rose on one of the tablecloths in the storefront, but I’m not really seeing it.

  “You’re not a diva for wanting to be in control of your personal life. Where are you?”

  “Taking a walk in the hotel’s inner yard.”

  God, he sounds so sad that all I want to do is wrap my arms around him.

  “How long is your break? I can be at the hotel in half an hour, and I can bring donuts. They make everything better. I promise. I can sprinkle a kiss or two as well, you know, for improving your luck.”

  “No, that’s fine. I’m going to walk some more on my own, gather my thoughts, consider my options.”

  If someone dropped an ice bucket on my head, I don’t think my blood would have felt as glacial. Consider his options? What exactly does this mean? Is he considering faking the romance with Amy after all? I’m too much of a coward to ask.

  “Tell me how I can make things better, Alex.”

  “You can’t right now. I just need to think.”

  A hundred-pound weight settles on my chest. Yesterday morning he said we’ll find solutions together. Up until now, he’s always sought my presence when things went haywire. Why does he want to be alone now?

  “Okay. You’ll tell me if you change your mind?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “Alex, I’m really sorry about this.”

  “So am I. Listen, I’ve got to go. I just wanted to tell you.”

  “Okay. See you tonight. We’re still on for room service at ten, right?”

  He has another photo shoot while I’m at Val’s, and it should last until nine.

  “Of course. Have fun with your cousins.”

 
“Thanks. I will.”

  Spending time with the Connors is always fun, but I’m not sure even Val’s cooking or Jace’s constant teasing will keep me from worrying.

  Chapter Thirty

  Summer

  The cab drive to Val’s house takes forever, which gives me far too much time with my thoughts. I fiddle with my phone, itching to call Alex again, to hear his voice, reassure him somehow. But here’s the thing: I don’t know how to reassure him. No matter how you look at it, this blows. And he said he needs time to think. My being a nuisance wouldn’t help at all.

  Even though it nags at me that he won’t at least let me be there for him, I shove my phone deep in my purse and look out the window.

  Traffic is the one thing I dislike about LA. Not that San Francisco lacks in this department, but LA is considerably bigger. So is its traffic problem. I use this as an opportunity to admire the street fashion and art.

  When the cab pulls in front of Val’s gate, I can’t help a smile. Her fence is painted in vibrant blue. A few months ago, it was green. She’s always changing something. Val is one of those people who can’t stay still for too long.

  I push past the gate and up the cobblestone alley snaking up to her beautiful ranch-style house, which is on top of a rather vicious slope.

  “I promise I’m going to turn the alley into stairs... eventually. Everyone complains about the slope, including myself. I’m looking for a landscaper, someone who can transform this whole space.” Val waits for me at the top, arms open. I walk right into them.

  “I missed you,” I say.

  “Back at you. Come on in, everyone’s waiting.”

  “Oh, but I’m not late, am I?”

  “Nah, but when I told them you’re joining us, they all came earlier.”

  Val leads me inside the house, straight to the dining room, where all the Connors are gathered. Well, all minus Landon, Val’s twin brother. He’s in the Bay area.

  We have many cousins, but I’ve always had a soft spot for the Connors. We’re related on my mother’s side. Their parents died when Landon and Valentina were freshmen in college, and the two of them came straight back home, gave up their scholarships and took care of their brothers and sisters. Jace pulls me into a bear hug, almost crushing me with those strong arms of his—hazards of being a professional athlete.