Drunk in Love

by Anthology

  My brothers burst out laughing and Tanner throws his arm around Frank’s narrow shoulders. “You’re bloody fantastic, Frank. You have to go clubbing with us sometime.”

  Frank’s brow arches. “Would you consider a gay club?”

  Tanner strokes his beard and nods. “If it means more laughs with you, I’d give it a go.”

  Frank’s eyes alight in amazement as he exclaims, “This is the best night of my life!”

  My laughs are interrupted by two hands that snake around my waist from behind. Hayden’s voice whispers in my ear, “It’s not quite eleven yet, but I can’t go another second without touching you, Bunny. Let’s go up to the garden. Please. They won’t even know we’re gone.”

  “From our own engagement party?”

  He nips at my ear. “Our party. Our rules.”

  He threads his hand through my fingers and pulls me through the flat and out onto the large balcony. A couple of our friends are standing out there with cocktails, but they must read between the lines because they smile politely and head inside.

  “Coast is clear. Let’s go.” Hayden nods toward the ladder that leads up to the roof.

  Since our flat occupies the entire eleventh floor, we have our own lift, making the rooftop completely ours. It’s a stunning part of the property with huge, sweeping lattice arches covered in greenery and floral vines crawling all over. Large, colourful pots overwhelm the space with some of the most vibrant flowers you’ve ever seen. And nestled right beneath the Chinese lanterns is a huge, round, white rattan sun lounger. It’s my favourite space in the whole wide world. Hayden and I spend most of our evenings up here, gazing up at the sky, talking about our day, and enjoying the peace and quiet of each other. Nothing else in the world bothers us when we are up here.

  After my ascent up the ladder, I stretch out on the lounger, kicking my shoes off and wiggling my scrunched toes. Hayden finishes his climb and looks at me with a dark heat to his eyes as he slips off his waistcoat.

  “Did I tell you, you look absolutely beautiful tonight?” he asks, slowly walking toward me. He deposits his jacket on a nearby chair and begins unbuttoning the snaps around his wrists.

  “I don’t think you got around to it.”

  He shakes his head, standing at my feet now. “A moment lost. Allow me to make up for it.” He shoots me a dirty smirk, making his sentiments known.

  Instead of replying, I turn my head and squint at the watch on his wrist.

  “Why are you so concerned about the time, Vi?” Hayden asks. His sleeves are rolled up on his forearms and he’s popped a couple of buttons on his chest already. “Did you hire a plane to fly by with an ‘I want to shag Hayden Clarke’ banner? Because I don’t need a sign to grant you that wish.”

  I giggle and shake my head, leaning back and propping myself on my elbows. “You are a cheeky sod, you know that?”

  He smiles and nods proudly while slowly uncrossing my feet and spreading my legs. I gasp as he begins crawling up the length of my body, my dress hitching up the closer he gets. We’ve had sexy time on this sun lounger more times than I can remember. My reactions are a reflex at this point.

  Hayden kisses me sweetly on my shoulder. “I’m your cheeky sod. We’re just moments away from making it official.” He begins nibbling my neck and sending goose pimples all over my body.

  “It’s going to take more than a few moments to plan a wedding, Hayden,” I reply breathlessly as I squeeze my legs around his hips.

  “You know what I mean.” He pauses his action and pulls back to look me in the eye. “This is it, Vi. We’re engaged. This is our life. Together. Just the two of us and nothing else.” His gaze falls to my lips before he closes the space between us and kisses me, pressing his tongue into my mouth so deeply that I forget all common sense for a moment.

  He moves his hand from my waist and reaches between us, stroking slowly up my inner thigh. When he slides past the band on my knickers and pushes one finger inside of me, I swear I could come within seconds just from the combination of his words and his touch. He breaks our kiss and presses his forehead to mine. “And when times get tough, when I feel myself slipping, we come up here. A place no one can touch us. No one can bother us. No one can tell us that we aren’t enough for each other.”

  His breath is coming heavily now, and he kisses me with a sudden sense of desperation, mimicking the motion with his fingers between my legs. I reach for the belt buckle on his trousers, brushing over his hard bulge and frantically tearing away at his clothes, aching to feel his words inside of me. He grabs the centre of my knickers and pulls until they split open. Within seconds, he’s thrust so deep inside of me, I don’t know where Hayden ends and I begin.

  Because we are one.

  We are each other’s landing point and catching ground, moving together in a perfect synchronisation that feels as if we were truly made for each other. As he rocks inside of me and kisses me savagely, I squeeze his face with all my might, kissing him so hard, I swear I’ll be leaving a permanent love bite behind.

  “Hayden.” I cry out his name as my climax comes much too soon. I don’t want this to be over. I want to stay lost in this world with him inside of me. Where there are no problems around us, no sudden changes coming. I don’t want to think of the time on his watch or what I need to tell him. I want to just stay us. “I love you.”

  He pulls his face back so he can look at me. His grey eyes are wide and wonderful. “I love you, too, Bunny. You are all I’ll ever need in this life. As long as I have you, I’ll always have a reason to live. I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

  His words are brutal and beautiful. They hold so much meaning because of his past…because of what he’s been through…because of what he almost gave up. My Hayden.

  Tears well in my eyes and I pull him close, kissing him with everything I have left inside of me, riding out the aftershocks of my orgasm until he comes himself. When we’re finished, he pulls out and drops onto his side, rolling me over to face him. I press my forehead to his and stare at his mouth because I’m sure if I look at his eyes, he’ll see. He’ll see it all.

  I grab his hand and pull it up between us, glancing at the time. As if destiny is having a laugh right now, the time ticks over to 11:11 and I say with a sigh, “I’m pregnant.”

  Hayden goes still. His breathing stops. His arms grow tense. I swear, even the world stops spinning.

  This is what I feared. This kind of change would spook him. And after all the beautiful words he said about just the two of us up here, an ominous feeling creeps over me.

  The time, 11:11, held so much meaning for him in his past after his sister passed away. It sent him into a deep, dark place that made him believe he no longer wanted to live. But this past year, it became something wonderful that we shared together. We’d catch 11:11 on a clock and make a wish about our life together. Of course, we’d still remember the loved ones we lost; but instead of wishing for the past to change, like he used to, we just wish for them to continue inspiring our future.

  “Hayden,” I say, looking up into his expressionless eyes. “Say something.”

  His face continues to remain frozen.

  “Was that a wish or a fact?” he asks, finally breaking the silence.

  I bite my lip and sit up, pulling away from his stiffness. “What do you want it to be?”

  He sits up, too, his pants pulled backed up but his buckle still undone. His hand reaches toward my chest as he pulls the white plastic stick out from between my cleavage. It must have worked its way up. I’d completely forgotten it was there.

  He holds it in his hand, examining the test window carefully. The corner of his mouth creeps up into something resembling a smile. “You know how we always make a wish together at 11:11?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I whisper, still terrified of what might come next.

  “This was one of my wishes.”

  “It was?” I gasp and he nods. “But you never said. Everything we’ve talked about up
here has always been about just us. Traveling, seeing the world, maybe opening up our own business, buying a house. We’ve never talked about kids, Hayden.”

  He swallows. “I didn’t want to spook you.”

  “Spook me?” I bark. “I thought this would spook you!”

  “Look, Vi.” He shifts closer to me and cups my hand in his, pulling it up to his mouth and kissing it softly. “I have a fucked up past. That’s very well known. But I don’t want you to be afraid for what kind of a dad I’ll be. I’ll always be here for you and this baby. You were all the reason I needed to live before. Now, that fact has been doubled. Maybe tripled. Twins are hereditary, right?”

  He glances up and his grey eyes look so wide and innocent, I can’t even wrap my head around what he’s saying right now. “Bunny, say something.”

  I shake my head.

  “You don’t have to be scared.”

  I start laughing. “I’m not scared, Hayden. I’m bloody thrilled.” I throw myself into his arms and he falls backwards on the lounger, holding me to him as I drop thousands of kisses all over his cheeks and lips. I giggle, “This is the best engagement party ever.”

  “This right here really is a perfect moment.” He chuckles softly against my lips right before kissing me fiercely.

  I inwardly sigh as I realise that all of my wishes are actually coming true.

  The End

  ABOUT AMY DAWS

  Amy Daws is a lover of all things British, and her London-based love stories bring the incredible city to life on every page. Read all about hot British men, hilarious American heroines, and an unforgettable, original ensemble cast that pulls out all of the feels.

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  CHANGE OF HEART

  Carey Heywood

  1

  CHAPTER ONE

  I’m at the bachelorette party of a girl I hate, what could possibly go wrong? It’s not like I would have accepted the invitation at all until I found out, going to the Donny Abraham concert was on the itinerary. All I had to do was hang out with the girls I’ve avoided since high school.

  Sure, it meant I spent the last hour cooing over the rock Frank McAlister gave Britney Allen. I should get an Academy Award for not vomiting all over her ring finger every time she flaunts it. The only reason Britney invited me in the first place was out of obligation because we grew up together and our moms are friends. That’s fine, she was just a means to an end, and that end was getting back stage.

  Now that I’ve made it past security, all I have to do is find his dressing room. That should be a breeze. How tough can it be to find a door with a giant gold star with the name Donny Abraham plastered on it?

  Problem is, there are no giant golden stars on any of the doors at all. There have only been printed sheets of paper thumbtacked to the doors I’ve passed so far. The print on them is too small to read without looking conspicuous. I should have brought my glasses but I only need them for reading, and I didn’t think I’d be doing that tonight.

  No, tonight I’m meeting my hero, my idol, my rock god in human form. Donny Abraham is the reason I learned to play guitar and part of the inspiration for every song I’ve written.

  I have to meet him to tell him how much his music has meant to me over the years. Now, if I can only find his dressing room.

  “Hey, are you supposed to be back here?” a deep voice asks from behind me.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Slowly, I turn to face a wall of bare chest. I had planned out what I would say if at any point during my escapade backstage I was caught, but all rational thought evaporates as I ask, “Where’s your shirt?”

  I’m still staring at pecs. Oh my God, did the right one just bounce?

  His abs contract as he chuckles, drawing my attention downward. Jesus, Penny, you have seen a hot bod before and not been dumbstruck. Get your shit together.

  “It gets hot on stage,” he murmurs.

  That’s when my eyes travel up to rest on the face, and more specifically mouth, of this guy. It’s also when I recognize him.

  He is not Donny Abraham. I knew that the second I turned around and was eye level with his chest. From Donny’s online biography, he’s closer to my height and has more of a lanky build. No, this is Donny’s drummer, and what’s worse is he is no stranger.

  Do I admit I know him or wait to see if he recognizes me? While I ponder this he squints at me. Shit.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement and almost weep for joy when I turn my head to watch Donny Freaking Abraham approaching us.

  He gives me a head-to-toe appraisal and shrugs before saying, “She’ll do.”

  Topher starts to say something, but I quickly shake my head. He stares at me as Donny leads me away. The concerned expression on his face only minimally dulls the glow of the fact that I’ve done it. I am with Donny Abraham, and in moments will be able to tell him how much he means to me.

  The door he leads me to is blank, no star and no thumbtacked piece of paper either. Sheesh, I never would have found it. He flips on the light as we walk inside. The room is mainly empty, save a black leather sofa. He promptly moves to and collapses onto it, his hands moving to his belt.

  Uh oh.

  “You want to suck me off?” he casually asks, as though he were offering a soda.

  “Oh wow,” I mumble, taking a step closer to the door.

  He tilts his head to the side. “You’ll need to come closer than that.”

  “I think there’s been some confusion. I’m not here to, um, do that.”

  His hands still on his now open belt. “You were talking to Topher.”

  What he says makes no sense, so I keep talking. “I wanted to meet you so I could tell you what an inspiration your music has been to me.”

  He leans forward, eyebrows pinched together, and asks, “You’re not here to suck my dick?”

  I shake my head and take another step back, my hand reaching behind me to rest on the doorknob. “No, I’m not, and I have an awful gag reflex anyways so neither of us would probably enjoy it if I was.”

  Shit. Did I seriously just tell Donny Abraham I had a bad gag reflex?

  He blinks, and I start to turn the knob. This was a terrible idea. Before I can finish twisting it though, the knob moves on its own, and the door pushes open with enough force to make me fall forward, my arms spinning before I land on my knees in front of Donny.

  With my hands braced on his legs, I turn back to see Topher entering with a woman. His eyes flash when he sees where I’m kneeling.

  “Guess I was wrong,” he mutters, reaching for the woman’s elbow to escort her back out of the room.

  I scramble to my feet explaining, “It’s not what it looks like. I was leaving when the door opened and made me fall.”

  Topher’s gaze holds mine as he confirms, “You were leaving?”

  Nodding, I turn my head toward Donny, whose focus is now mainly on the woman trying to inch past me to get to him. “It was, um, interesting to meet you.”

  He doesn’t look at me, but lifts his hand in an absentminded farewell, “I’d be nowhere without my fans.”

  The woman, a tall, leggy blonde with curves for miles, settles herself next to him on the sofa with a giggle. Inwardly, I cringe. I’ve heard you should never meet your idols; that the real life person will never live up to the fantasy you’ve made up of them. Holy crap was that ever the truth for me.

  Will I ever be able to listen to his music without hearing him ask if I wanted to suck his cock? He didn’t even bother to say hello first. I’m not sure what’s worse, Donny Abraham being a slime ball or Topher Wilson witnessing my humiliation.

  “Let’
s get you out of here,” he murmurs, taking my hand.

  “You knew that was going to happen,” I mumble as soon as the door is closed behind us.

  His eyes move to it, probably well aware of what was now happening on the other side of it. “I know Donny.” He pauses before adding, “And I know you.”

  “I need to go,” I whisper.

  He nods, his too familiar grayish-blue eyes seeing right through me. “Did you drive or take a cab?”

  “A limo. I came with a bachelorette party,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I’ll drive you home. I just need to grab a shirt and borrow a car.”

  I tug at my hand, still held tightly in his. “I can call a cab. You don’t have to take me.”

  He ignores me, pulling me to and through another door. This room isn’t empty. There are a few guys and some woman sitting on the two sofas. One couple is full on making out, the woman’s breasts out and everything, completely oblivious to their audience.

  “You’re going to need to find another room if you want some privacy, Wilson,” one guy says, looking me over.

  “Shut up, Clint,” Topher growls, letting go of my hand to ruffle through a duffle bag near the door.

  “Oh, chill out, man. It’s good to see you’re finally getting some,” the man, who I’m guessing is Clint, replies.

  Topher doesn’t say a word. He pulls a long sleeve maroon Henley from his bag and tugs it on over his head. As soon as his arms are through it, his hand finds mine again and we leave.

  We’re heading toward security when I say, “I’m serious. You don’t need to take me home.”

  He glances down at me before replying, “No way. Besides, we need to talk.”