Healed by You

by Christy Pastore

  “Speaking of privacy, I should tell you that I have an IUD and I’m clean.”

  “I’m clean too,” he whispered in my ear.

  “We really know how to kill a mood, don’t we?”

  “My mood is perfectly pleasant,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re working out the logistics. It’s good to know that if I wanted to fuck you bare, I could.”

  Wetness pooled between my thighs, at the thought of having him inside me with nothing between us. Apparently, the mood was not dead. Not at all. My hands drifted up Grady’s arms, bringing them to the back of his neck.

  “I think we should kiss a little more and think a lot less,” he murmured, before pressing his lips below my earlobe.

  “Is that so?”

  He stared at me for a moment and then leaned in brushing his lips to mine. Our kiss deepened, his tongued licked mine, teasing me until my body was drowning in need. A thousand emotions flickered through me when his hands came up to frame the sides of my face. Everything about tonight had been perfect. I was almost sad we were leaving to go back to The Harbour tomorrow morning. This wasn’t an ending, it was a beginning.

  GRADY JAMES AND HARLOW Trembley PDA at Palmetto Polo Pony Rescue Charity Event—Heather Young Disgusted with Both of Them

  Can photographs tell an entire story? Grady James and Harlow Trembley spent a hefty part of last week together. Heather Young is furious. We’re a little unsure as to why, because she had nothing but negative things to say about her ex-husband on Wake Up with Stacy. Why would she care?

  Whether James and lingerie model, Trembley, just happened to be at the same event respectively or if they attended together is unclear. Sources say the pair looked quite cozy on the red carpet together.

  It’s no secret that James, an avid polo player, loves animals. Over the years, he’s helped rescue countless retired polo ponies and been a large supporter to the Adopt Don’t Shop Movement. Trembley isn’t particularly known for her philanthropy as much as she is for stripping down for the runway.

  A close friend of James said, “Grady and Harlow have been friends for a long time. They were just laughing and having a good time supporting an important cause.”

  But, they were holding hands. That must be a total shot to the heart for Heather, who happens to be great friends with Harlow as they often appeared on each other’s Instagram accounts. The two ladies came up in the modeling scene together about the same time and formed a friendship because of it. Perhaps Heather being upset has less to do about Grady and more about her friendship with Harlow.

  Dating your friend’s ex—doesn’t that go against the girl code? This story is shaping up to be one filled with jealousy, cheating and wild accusations of abuse. Are you excited about this possible new couple alert? Tell us your thoughts in the comments below.

  And so, it begins.

  “Well that didn’t go as well as we planned, did it?” I asked, rising from my seated position on the couch. The paparazzi were waiting for us outside the airport. We managed to ditch them and decided to hideout at Afton’s guest house.

  “I love the ‘great friends’ mention. That’s a stretch. Heather and I, we’re more like, well acquainted people who sometimes attend the same events together out of obligation for work. I applaud them for their stellar journalism.”

  “Son of bitch,” Grady cursed, scrubbing a hand over the curve of his jaw. “Fuck, there’s nothing the world loves more than building up celebrities only to tear them down.”

  I walked to the kitchen to discard my yogurt cup into the recycling bin. Lightning flashed in the morning sky as warm rain began to coat the deck of Afton’s pool. An omen perhaps?

  “Yeah, but America loves a comeback,” I said, pointing my spoon in Grady’s direction before tossing it into the dishwasher. “Despite the negative tone of the article, they did mention the charities—that’s your silver lining.”

  He tilted his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, that is a good thing. I hate the shade they’re throwing your way. I need to get my name cleared of the abuse allegations.”

  I rested my hip against the counter. “You will and when the world finds out Heather cheated on you, oh, the shit will hit the fan.”

  He tugged his earlobe and then swept the pad of his thumb over his jaw. “You’re right. I’m telling Haven to leak the story and then you and I are going back to my house. I want you to stay with me. Pack a bag.”

  Grady wanted me to stay with him, but he didn’t exactly specify for how long. I didn’t want to be presumptuous so I tossed in a few casual outfits and two bathing suits. It was just after one in the afternoon by the time I had my things packed. The sun started to peek through the clouds, chasing away the grey gloomy skies. We pulled onto the road that led to Grady’s place to find a crowd of people outside—taking photos, shouting obscenities and shaking their fists in the air. Scowls painted their faces, and the roars of disdain became more audible.

  A woman with red hair wearing a white floral dress jogged beside us. “Grady, how could you do this to Heather?”

  Another woman wearing black capris, and a pink tank top appeared on Grady’s side. “You are the most deplorable kind of man!”

  “You should be ashamed of yourself, you slut!” a feminine voice called out from the crowd.

  This was the side of celebrity I’d never experienced. These must be those super fans I keep hearing so much about. Luckily no one did anything remotely violent, like pound on the windows or step in front of him while he was driving.

  “Do you have security?” I asked, as he maneuvered his Range Rover up the driveway. Once trees cleared, my eyes took in a stunning grey, cedar shingled home with large expansive windows and white painted wood.

  “I’ve never needed it here,” he said, pulling his car into the garage. “But, I guess I should call someone now.”

  Once we’re inside the house, Grady pulled his phone from his pocket swiping it to life. “Hey, man, I guess it’s time that we have that chat about my security needs. Yeah, that sounds good.”

  That was all he said, before ending the call and then tossing his phone onto the kitchen counter.

  “Are you okay?”

  Tension rolled off him as he expelled a deep sigh. “I will be.” Grasping my hand, he pulled me into his frame. “I’m just glad that you’re here.”

  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” My fingers dug into the muscles of his back.

  He kissed the top of my head, breathing me in and then his muscles relaxed. “So, this is my place—sans the horde of people outside, it’s normally quiet.”

  It was certainly peaceful. He led me towards the living room. Everything was white accented with warm woods. There wasn’t a space left untouched by natural light from the large windows that surround the two sides of his house.

  “Wait, is that yours?” I asked pointing towards the large boat anchored at his dock.

  “Yep, I’ve had my eye on her for a while.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind. “And she’s finally all mine.”

  I smiled. It was clear that he’s talking about the boat, but a small part of me allowed the words to take on a different meaning.

  “Have you taken her out yet?”

  “Nope, but you’ll come with me. We’ll christen the boat properly.”

  He grasped my shoulders turning me so that I faced him. His lips captured mine in a slow kiss. It was warm, and wonderful.

  The doorbell rang as we uncurled from our embrace. “That’s my security appointment. You’re welcome to stay or you can take your things upstairs to my bedroom.”

  We walked hand in hand across the room and I scooped up my bags. “I think I’ll settle in and maybe get some work done while you’re in your meeting.”

  His hands cupped my face. “There’s a fully stocked bar upstairs, unwind with a glass of wine if you like.”

  Our lips met for a long, slow, torturous kiss that turned me into a big ball of need. If his doorbell wasn’t ring
ing out, I’d have him upstairs and naked. The kiss ended, leaving me feeling an odd sense of loss.

  Sunlight splashed over the grey-painted pine floors, as I crept up the staircase. When I landed in the master suite, the view of the ocean appeared—spectacular waves of blue spread out before me. My palms smoothed over the white comforter on his bed. Everything was white or soft beige, minimalism at its finest.

  I hauled my laptop bag up onto the writing desk in the corner and began organizing a makeshift workspace. My phone buzzed against the tabletop. It was a text from Zanita. I swiped open the message, a link from one of the UK tabloids appeared:

  Has Grady James netted a former WAG? Actor steps out with Harry Brackman’s model ex.

  A week after his blunder against Team USA, English footballer Harry Brackman has been dealt another emotional blow. The goalkeeper’s ex, model Harlow Trembley was spotted on the red carpet at the Palmetto Polo Charity Event with the handsome model/actor. Rumors are circulating that the pair are dating.

  Sources allege that Brackman’s split from Trembley left him heartbroken and has contributed to his poor performance during England’s opening match with USA.

  James’ ex-wife, actress Heather Young recently told US talk show host, Stacy Carlton that her ex-husband was abusive and said that he made her enter rehab to revive her career. The actress later admitted that she was devastated that Grady had moved on so quickly.

  Quickly? The pair ended their marriage months ago. As for Brackman and Trembley, no one seems to know when the pair exactly called it quits. Although some sources claim she dumped him only a few weeks ago. Ouch.

  I finished reading the link and sent Zanita a quick text back, thanking her for sending along the article. My fingers itched to shoot off a text to Haven asking if she had leaked the cheating story yet. Harry had yet to deny that our breakup was the cause of his terrible play. Fuck. It was starting to irritate me, but I know he doesn’t read the papers when he’s playing. Maybe he doesn’t know what’s being said. I’d give him a little more time.

  But, Grady, he’s not an abuser and why Heather would lie and trash his reputation was beyond me.

  ALEX ROBERTSEN CROSSED THROUGH my foyer, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. “What did you do, James, become an overnight celebrity?”

  “Sorry about that mess outside.”

  “It’s not your fault, my fiancée keeps me well informed where celebrity gossip is concerned. This is about what I expected.”

  I nodded. “You want a drink?”

  “Nah, I’m good.” Alex swiped the screen of his iPad. “With security, I will set you up with this system. It’s the same one I have for our house, and Ella’s store—top of the line. No one is getting in here. I’ll have this place sealed tighter than the White House.”

  I wouldn’t expect anything less from Robertsen Security. Alex’s company was the best and I trusted his expertise.

  “You have a system that includes rooftop snipers? I’m impressed, Robertsen.”

  His mouth twisted up, as if he’d actually entertained the idea once. “I can have one or two guys stationed on your property, whatever you like—do you want around the clock security or just a guy to have your back when you go out?”

  Staring up at the beams in my living room, I shoved a hand through my hair. “What do you recommend?”

  “I always recommend that celebrities, such as yourself, have security, but I understand that it can cramp your lifestyle. It’s an adjustment. I can promise you this—any one of my guys will be as visible or invisible as you need them to be.”

  Weighing my options, I poured a drink. I’d never needed a fulltime security detail. Usually the studios would have someone who escorted me for appearances and movie premieres, but I never felt the need to employ security—until today. Earlier, outside my driveway, that was a wakeup call. What was most important to me was Harlow’s safety. I’d dragged her into this arrangement, now it was up to me to make sure both of us came out of it physically and mentally unscathed.

  “I can see this is overwhelming, James. How about we do a trial run?”

  I took a drink as I let his suggestion turn over in my mind. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  After we squared away the details, he snapped his iPad closed. “I won’t let you down, buddy. I’ve scheduled your installation for this week and I’ll be here to personally oversee it.”

  I blew out a sharp breath. “I appreciate that, but you’re getting married in a few days. Don’t you have better things to do than babysit an installation crew?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I’m the groom, all I have to do is show up.”

  I smirked. “Sure, buddy, keep telling yourself that.”

  I stepped into my bedroom, just as Harlow appeared in nothing but a towel. “Well, it looks like I’m late. You’ve already showered—alone.”

  “Yep, guess you’re going to need to work on your timing.”

  I flopped back onto my bed. “My imagination is fucking you like crazy right now.”

  Harlow gave me an easy smile as she sauntered over to my bed. “Give me your hand.”

  Offering her my hand, I cocked a brow. She gripped my hand in hers and then lifted the towel revealing her bare pussy. Holy Christ.

  Harlow positioned herself over my hand and then eased my middle finger inside her. She worked her hips finding the perfect rhythm. Her skin smelled like my soap and the wet heat of her body was intoxicating.

  Watching her fuck my finger was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen in my life. Somehow I tore my gaze from where our bodies were connected meeting her hooded hazel eyes. Harlow’s teeth grazed over her plump bottom lip. The zipper of my shorts bit into my balls, the aching friction sent my need for her into overdrive.

  “Touch yourself,” she murmured. “I want to watch you stroke your cock.”

  “You are such a demanding dirty girl.” My eyes never left hers as I unzipped my shorts and gripped my cock. She hummed and moaned as my hand grazed up and down my shaft with long slow strokes. A lazy smile tugged the corners of her mouth. Her movements managed to loosen the white cotton from her body and I watched it slide down exposing her breasts.

  A long moan slipped from Harlow’s lips sending electricity charging through my veins. She picked up her pace using my finger for her pleasure.

  “More please.”

  My thumb teased over her clit, and I felt her walls tighten around my finger. When the towel hit the floor, Harlow’s free hand cupped her breast. Her other hand held my finger in place, and I felt the tremors pulsing against me.

  “Fuck, Harlow, get on my dick and let me fuck you.”

  She shook her head and that lazy grin returned. The wicked gleam in her eyes alone nearly had me coming undone. Harlow was enjoying the power of control. It was hot as hell.

  She was wild, raw and opened to me. Fuck. She looked beautiful—her auburn hair swayed back and forth as unintelligible words slipped from her lips.

  “Don’t stop, Grady,” she groaned, as the spasms rolled through her body.

  My hand pumped my cock faster and I thrust my finger deeper inside Harlow giving her just what she wanted.

  “Yes, yes, oh yes . . .” she chanted, shaking and riding my finger through the muscle-weakening orgasm. Waves of my own release tingled in my balls when her arousal slid down my hand. Jesus.

  I let her ride my finger until her legs threatened to give out. In a swift motion, I pulled her on top of me. What surprised me next was when she slid down my body, and popped the button of my shorts. She gave me a wicked smile before taking my cock into her mouth. I watched with extreme fascination as my dick slid between her perfect pink lips. Her tongue swirled around the tip of my dick, teasing the underside and sucking my balls into her mouth.

  “Harlow, sweetheart, I’m going to come.” My voice was strained with warning.

  She stared up at me, not caring, sucking me deeper. My hips shot up, and she tested her gag reflex. “Fucking hell, your
sweet mouth.”

  Teetering on the edge of losing it, my fingers tangled in her dark hair. My eyes screwed tight as my head fell back against the pillows. Gripping my length with two hands, she sent me over the edge exploding into her mouth.

  “My God, you’re amazing.” I blinked up at the wooden beams taking a quick moment to regain my breathing.

  Her fingers brushed up my thighs, sending a shiver rattling through my bones. My gaze returned to her and I wrapped my arm around her lower back bringing her closer. She curled into my side, nuzzling the crook of my shoulder.

  “I think I need another shower,” she murmured, tracing her finger along the tip of my half-hard cock.

  “Keep doing that and I’ll have no choice but to fuck you—here on my bed or in the shower.”

  She rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. “Should I expect to become familiar with every flat surface inside this place or the entire property? I think I saw an outdoor shower.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I thought we established that your ex-wife was the crazy one and you really shouldn’t tell a woman that she’s crazy,” she said with smile.

  “There are two definitions to the word, crazy,” I informed, zipping my shorts. “Number one—unhinged. That one’s mental state has manifested in a wild or aggressive way. Two, extremely enthusiastic and I’m particularly fascinated by the way you passionately mentioned the outdoor shower.”

  She shot me a pointed glance. “I’m not sure that you’re expressing the term correctly, rather twisting it to fit your narrative.”

  “Hmm, I’d like to see you twisting that beautiful body of yours again.”

  “Are you some kind of sexual deviant or is everything an innuendo to you?”

  “Not a deviant. But if you leave the sexual innuendo door open even a fraction, I’ll come barreling through like the Kool Aid Man.”

  She snickered, dropping her forehead to my chest. My hand brushed up and down her back and she tossed her arm over my stomach. We laid on my bed in silence, listening to the sounds of The Harbour and my ceiling fan. My fingers continued to skim over her skin, the sight of Harlow’s naked body atop my bed with sunlight splashing over her curves had a profound effect on me. If I had any talent, I’d take a photograph or paint a portrait of her capturing this moment.