by Vivian Wood
She was surprised that he’d drawn the conclusion so fast.
“Sort of. I stayed at home the next few days. My mother was horrified at mybehavior and thought it unacceptable that I’d broken off my engagement without giving him the chance to explain and to forgive him. Eventually I told them I wanted to go to design school, they both flipped. You’d have sworn I’d stolen from the family business from my father’s expression. My mother was of the opinion that I’d betrayed her and was never planning on carrying through with the plan to begin with. It dawned on me that if I was ever going to live my own life, I had to get away from them. So I packed my bags, went to Josh’s 'cause there’s no space for me at Katie’s and Mary was away. He offered me his spare bedroom until I figured things out. He went ballistic when I told him about you and then told me that I could only live with him if I was single. That’s when when I called you. And as you said, the rest is history.”
He kept quiet for a beat, taking in everything she'd told him.
“Riddle me this, princess. Would you feel the same way if I cheated on you?”
Her heart stilled, her ears pounding. Her hand flew out and swatted at his chest as she moved to scamper off his lap.
“Of course I would!” she exclaimed, but he only held her tighter to him, preventing her attempted escape.
“Hang on, is that your stupid half-baked way of asking if we’re exclusive?”
His smile widened. “Only if you want it to be.”
She looked deep into his open, honest expression. He may be slightly teasing her, but there was something else there. So she inched forward. “Only if you kiss me.”
He surveyed her expression for only a second before claiming her mouth with his, effectively wiping every thought from her mind again.
He flipped her over so she was on her back on the couch and kissed her deeply. “Thank you for telling me that, princess. I know it wasn’t easy for you,” he breathed into her ear, placing small kisses along her jaw and collarbone.
“Likewise, baby.” She tried his new chosen nickname and found that she liked it, generic as it was. I’ll think of a better, more original one when he’s not… oh god… Her thought fled entirely as he thumbed her nipples through her shirt and moved his other hand down her stomach and over her crotch.
He lifted her dress over her head before she even knew what was happening and brought his hard body all the way over hers. Their kisses heated up and their hips ground together. She moaned with need for him. It had only been since this morning, but her body was pulsing with want again and his breathing was ragged.
They kissed and touched until she broke and reached for his pants. He was still shirtless from cooking and suddenly he had kicked his jeans off. Only his briefs and her underwear separated them now. He growled at the feel at her almost naked skin and rubbed harder against her. He teased her nipples though her lacy bra until they were both tearing at it. He made short work of getting her out of it and clasped his mouth over her left nipple. He was still teasing her right nipple with his thumb but his free hand danced down her stomach and played with the hem of her underwear, tugging at it playfully and grazing her clit every now and then.
“Tease,” she moaned, which deepened when he sucked on her collarbone and slid her underwear off.
“Yeah?” he challenged. “You’re not enjoying this then?” His hands stilled.
She groaned with desire. He was going to make her say it. She just knew it.
“You want me to stop?” he asked, a serious expression on his face.
“If you stop, I’ll beat you with this pillow,” she threatened, holding a throw pillow over his face.
“Can’t have that,” he growled jokingly and slid into her.
It had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d last filled her, but she sighed in relief at the feeling. He groaned and slid deeper. He started a slow, steady rhythm and pretty soon, she was moaning his name and thrusting her hips against his. “I know, princess.” His breathing was fast and the muscles in his back quivered as he reached down and stroked her clit, sending her straight over the edge. He slowed as she came down, kissing her gently.
“What about you?” she asked, mind still in a daze.
“Oh princess, I’m not nearly done with you yet.” He scooped her up and carried her to the master bedroom.
Hours later, she felt like she was going to pass out. Her body couldn't take any more. Although, she'd said that two orgasms ago and he’d kept on going. Now, though, he slid off her and there was a sheen of perspiration on his skin.
He pulled her against him and whispered to her as she fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-One
She knew that the bed was empty before she opened her eyes. Panic set in, then she realized where they were. He’d probably gone for an early swim or something.
She found pajamas in her suitcase, just shorts and a tank top and went off to find him. She found French toast in the oven and fixed a plate, piling on some syrup and cheese before she settled at the table on the patio. It could seat ten people easily, but it was just her this morning.
The French toast was delicious, and she was savoring the last of it as she spotted him jogging back toward the house over the beach.
Relief flooded her veins. She didn’t really think he’d abandon her here and she'd even checked to make sure his car was still here, but he’d pulled more than one disappearing act on her. Things had changed, sure, but she'd still needed to convince herself. He pulled her into a sweaty hug, but she didn't care. She wanted him as close to her as she could have him. She inhaled his musk and felt the butterflies go wild in her stomach.
“You like the French toast?” he asked as he pulled away from her. “You said no full-time housekeeper, so I made it myself.” He gave her a lopsided grin, proud of himself at her cleaned plate.
“Seriously? That was amazing, baby!” She threw her arms around his sweaty neck and he pulled her into a deep kiss.
“Glad you liked it! I’m gonna go get cleaned up. Marco would have my ass if I slack, but how about you think about something we can do today. I’m happy with anything, as long as it doesn’t involve us leaving this house.” He gave her another quick kiss and winked over his shoulders as he entered the sliding doors to the bedroom.
She made herself comfortable in one of the loungers under the roof of the patio after clearing her plate.
She relaxed to the sound of the ocean and the seagulls, when she heard the bedroom doors sliding open again.
“You’ve given some thought to what you wanna do today, yeah?” His voice permeated every cell of her relaxed being. “Sure, I’m gonna go clean up too, then we’ll go swimming.” I should’ve just showered with him, she thought as she hit the bathroom, but she hadn’t thought about it, delicious French toast and all.
She showered quickly and left her hair loose as she pulled on her bikini and a sundress. She found Rhys already in the pool, recently chosen pants, shirt and underwear in a heap next to the pool. He turned to find her staring at the heap of clothes and her mind grasping at what was happening. He’d put up the umbrella that covered the pool. “Care to join me, love?” There it was again, his offhand pet name that he’d only called her once before but had her stomach in knots.
“Climb in with your bikini, we can get rid of the bottoms once you’re in. If anyone happens to walk by, they won’t see anything.”
A delicious shiver ran up her spine as she did what he suggested. The water was warm, enough to cool you down but not cold at all.
He stared at her, swam up and cradled her body on his lap on the step that surrounded the pool. Then his eyes were far away, staring over the ocean.
“You asked me once what touring was like, you remember?”
“Of course I do. You’ve been to some of the most exotic and beautiful places in the world, Rhys. Of course I want to know what that’s like.”
He answered without looking her in the eye, still engrossed by the ocean. “W
e have. Been to those places, I mean. But we’ve never gotten to experience them. Not really. We only ever see the inside of hotels. Once or twice we’ve managed to sneak out and see some of the sights. And of course we see the road from the airport, to wherever we’re playing, to the hotel. But that’s about it. The fans and the press make it difficult for us to see more.” His eyes were still over the ocean.
“We’re fucking lucky. Don’t ever doubt it, coming from where we did, to see as much of the world as we have.” He continued, kissing her neck every now and then, but still not with her. Not really. “But it all kind of blends into one. Landscapes, stadiums, time zones… After a while it doesn’t matter. The only thing that differs is the name of the place Jett yells when the show starts.”
He finally hoisted her completely up to him again, fixing his gaze to hers. “That must sound fucked up, huh? Really fucking spoiled! For guys who’ve come from where we were, to travel the world and then bitch about it.” He sounded bitter, but sincere. Like he hated himself for thinking this way.
“It doesn’t, Rhys. It must be really fucking frustrating, having your dreams come true, travel the world, but not being able to ever really experience anything. Being in the most amazing places on earth, but being confined to a hotel or a dressing room. I’ve only had a little taste of your life so far, baby, but I know it’s harder than it seems. You never have to apologize for that. Not for feeling what you feel.”
He rest his head on her chest, her legs clamped against his waist.
“That’s why it had to be you, Serena. You see me - hell, all of us - for the flawed, fucked up creatures we are and you still haven’t bolted. Who I am hasn’t scared you away, especially now…”
She kissed him with everything she had. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to, baby,” she whispered and his hips rubbed against her and his fingers started playing with her nipples. Eventually, he slipped her bikini bottoms off to join his clothes on the heap and he drove her crazy with his fingers. She came apart in the pool before he replaced his fingers with his rock hard cock and rocked them to oblivion again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
She woke up to Rhys strumming one of his guitars softly and staring out over the ocean from the master suite. The lower half of his body was shielded by the chair he was sitting in, but his top half was bare, muscles and tattoos rippling as he strummed. They'd spent days here, each day more perfect than the last.
She lay quietly, taking in the perfection that was - she thought - her boyfriend. He’d certainly been acting like it recently. Since that burlesque party at the club almost two weeks ago. So much had happened in that space of time that her head spun slightly just thinking about it.
Her brain was totally unable to process it. Not only had she walked into that club a virgin- which she definitely was no longer,, but her heart now also belonged entirely to the utterly heart-wrenchingly perfect man staring out at the sunrise over the ocean.
Speaking of how long it had been, images of Katie and Mary flashed in her brain and she swallowed guiltily. It had also been more than a week since she'd spoken to either of them. She'd texted them that she was okay, that Rhys and her were taking some time for themselves, but since they thought that’s what they'd been doing all along, there were some “screamy” messages that she'd ignored that warranted an answer.
Rhys’s phone rang and he whipped his head around to her before answering.
“Milo,” he snapped quietly. “Little early to be waking me and Sese, don’t you think?”
She smiled at the nickname Milo had given her all those weeks ago as Rhys settled beside her, having realized she was awake.
She could hear Milo’s voice, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. Rhys just sighed and looked at her, resigned to whatever Milo was telling him.
“Right, no, it’s not okay. But we’ll be there, bro. See you in two hours.” He listened for a second before snapping into the phone, “No, Milo, I can’t be there sooner. I’ll see you in two fucking hours. Tell them to fucking deal with it.”
“Trouble in paradise, baby?” She leaned into him, planting light kisses on the tattoo on his chest.
“I’m afraid this honeymoon is over, princess. They’re all headed to Misery house and I’m needed ASAP, apparently. Production meeting or some shit.”
They took one last leisurely shower together, though not nearly as leisurely as most of the showers they'd taken together while they'd been here, before they packed and locked up. She paused to take one last sweeping look at the opulent place, trying to etch every part of it into her brain, before they were back in the Range Rover and speeding back toward the Misery house in the Hills.
Rhys held her hand all the way back, scraping his lips over the back of her hand in his every so often, but not saying much. He seemed focused, but far more relaxed than when they'd made this drive days earlier.
They pulled up to the Misery ‘party house’ where she now knew Jett, Luc and Milo still lived, to a flurry of activity. There seemed to be cars everywhere, people hurrying about carrying pieces of equipment, others barking into smartphones and girls sipping at cocktails everywhere.
Rhys had told her at some point over the course of the last few days that there was a recording studio here where they were expected to record the next album, but that he’d kitted out the studio at the beach and was planning on convincing only the band and the most necessary people to record it there. Where it was tranquil, where they could concentrate, focus and just be. Seemed like that plan was up in smoke.
Rhys took her hand and led her through the crowd. There seemed to be groupies, lawyers, publicists and others she didn't know all milling about.
Deacon and Annie strode up to them, looking extremely stressed and annoyed. “Rhys,” Deacon snapped. “Good to have you among the living. Serena, you’re… still here,” was all he managed for her.
Rhys pulled her tighter to his side, kissing her temple before pulling Annie into a one-armed hug, still holding onto Serena with the other.
“We’ve got a lot to get through this morning, Rhys,” Annie said. “And since your goddamn brothers can’t just spend a quiet night in and your manager sees it necessary to grow his ego with the amount of people he can fit in to rig up an already rigged studio, we have to get started.” Her eyes shot fire at Deacon.
Rhys tilted her head up and kissed her deeply, but possessively. He sighed. “I’m sorry, love, duty calls. Go get comfortable in my old room, it’s the door through the one from the room I took you to that first night. I’ll come get you as soon as I can,” he whispered in her ear, nibbling just a little at her ear at the end.
The guys all hugged her as they passed her on their way into the dining room, all except Anders, who just gave her a passing nod. None of them were their energetic, usual selves. Clearly, whatever was going on was getting to them. As soon as they’d filed in, the door clicked with a decisive lock.
She sighed but headed toward the floating staircase that she'd only ever been up once before. As she passed the kitchen, she noticed a gaggle of girls sitting on the counter.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded of the groupies.
“Sshh!” the one closest to her hissed. “You can sort of hear their conversation through the A/C vent,” she whispered excitedly. “This is the only way to find out exactly what’s happening with them.” She made space for her next to the vent and waved her closer.
Every part of her being screamed to ignore her, to go up to Rhys’ room and get comfortable like he had asked, but some curious part of her- clearly the dominant part - had her shuffling toward the vent and joining the groupies on the counter.
The band was arguing about something, though she couldn't make out what until she heard Rhys’ strong voice demand, “HE HAS TO GO TO FUCKING REHAB, DEACON!”
Everyone fell silent until Deacon’s voice sounded out. “He will,” he declared. “Once you’ve recorded your new album. We’ll p
ut off a tour.”
Everyone started talking at once, the argument seemingly back in full force. “Enough,” Annie’s voice commanded.
“That’s months away from happening, Deacon. And you know it. What if he fucking drinks himself to death before then? You think we’ll find a replacement like ‘that’?” Rhys voice rang out, his fingers snapping for emphasis.
“I’m not putting his life in danger just to wait for a new fucking album, not to mention that as soon as it’s released, it's promos, yet another fucking tour…” Rhys hissed.
A loud booming laugh came through the vent. Anders’, she thought. His voice was slurred a little, but clearly he found something very funny.
“I can handle myself, bro.” Definitely Anders then. “What about you, Rhysie? I can handle myself. Always have. You, on the other hand, running around hand in hand with that fucking slut who’s your fake girlfriend? What the fuck are we supposed to do with that? Drawing all this fucking attention to us. We just got off a nine month tour bro, people would’ve left us alone if not for that fucking stunt you pulled. Way I see it, you’re the one we should be worried about! Not enough free pussy out there for you?”
She held her breath, waiting for Rhys to defend her, to defend them. The silence was deafening before he finally answered, “Go fuck yourself, Anders!” His voice quivered with anger now. Then he said the words that made her head and her heart spiral into unknown depths, bottom out and turn the edges of her vision black.
“The only fucking reason I brought her into this shitshow to fucking begin with, the only reason I began that fucking relationship is because I wanted to keep the paps from digging. From finding out about your goddamn drug problem!”
Her heart cracked. Right down the middle, she swore she could feel it happening. Her stomach turned to ice, and a lump that felt like it was the size of a small country formed in her throat. I can’t hear any more of this. I can’t believe it… Actually, I can, but I don’t want to think about it here…
