by Lisa Swallow
He tips his head. “Really? So if I take you somewhere private, you won’t try and get my clothes off?”
“If you tease me, you won’t be getting mine off.”
Without another word, Bryn drags me into the rain and we run across the muddy grass in the direction of our tent. The sky lights up, followed by a crack of thunder echoing through the quiet site.
“Holy fuck!” Bryn stops and his grip on my hand tightens. “Storm.”
“Yes, and rain. A lot of rain. Move!” I shove him as the water flattens my hair.
“I’m not staying out here in this.” A second flash and clap of thunder instantaneously and Bryn jumps. “Fuck.”
“It’s close.”
“I know! Why are we standing here?” He drags me back in the direction we came. “Quick!”
Bemused, I run after him and, when he ducks at the next crash, realisation dawns. “Mountain man, are you scared of thunder?”
“Shut up and get inside!”
The bar has filled with other visitors escaping the storm, including a little boy crying with his mum. Water drips from us and I shake rain from my hair.
“Bryn?”
His face is pale and at the next crash, he backs away from the door. “What?”
“Are you scared of thunder?”
“I don’t like storms.” He frowns. “I hope you’re not about to laugh at me.”
“No. It’s kind of funny in a not-funny way.”
“I bet you have a phobia, too.”
“Not really.”
“Spiders? All chicks are scared of spiders.”
“Don’t be so sexist! And I’m not.”
Lightning flashes outside, the sky filled with a bright light. Bryn sits at a nearby table. “I need a drink.”
“I’ll get them.”
Pushing damp hair from my face, I order the beers and return to a still startled Bryn. My man, the gentle guy beneath the rough exterior exposing his vulnerability.
“I guess being so tall there’s always a risk you’ll be struck by lightning,” I say as I place the glasses on the table.
“That’s not funny, Avery.”
“Sorry.”
We sit in silence for a minute, Bryn warily watching the storm outside. Eventually, he slumps back in his seat.
“Five star hotel, did you say?”
We share a smile, laughing at the weird situation. I wipe the water that’s dripped from Bryn’s hair onto his face and kiss him. I’m sheltering from a storm in a small bar in rural France with a member of the most famous rock band in the world. Nobody looks twice at us; out of context, he’s an average guy and I’m his girl.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
BRYN
I sit in the armchair close to the bed, legs stretched onto the sheets, feet crossed at the ankles as I run through emails on my iPad. Six a.m. Not exactly ‘rock and roll’, but I woke up horny after a second night lying naked next to Avery without sex; and instead of pissing Avery off by waking her, decided to wait until she does. I get a better response that way. She’s exhausted a lot of the time, the early weeks of her training in school taking up all her energy and leaving less for us. I get pouty about this after a couple of days, but my powers of persuasion often win.
Avery sleeps in the middle of the large bed, the sheets wrapped around her small figure, dark hair tangled. Whenever I look at this woman, my heart surges with a love I never knew how to give before. I’d hoarded it away, ready to give to the woman who didn’t want it. Now there’s Avery and I don’t feel as if I give her enough.
I love her.
Body, heart, and soul love her.
This petite, obstinate, sexy as fuck woman is my world.
Distracted from my emails by watching Avery sleep, I relax and allow the rush of happiness through my body. How lucky am I to find somebody who eclipses my stupid teen infatuation? I’ve made peace with the fact that’s what Hannah was, and what I held onto. I avoided real relationships for years; I wanted an all-encompassing, passionate relationship and there was no room for that with Blue Phoenix filling that role.
Now, there’s Avery.
She shifts, the sheet tightening around the curves I’ve mapped with my mouth and hands; my new world. Curves that need exploring again.
Nope, not waiting.
Setting down my iPad, I crawl across the bed and slip beneath the bedding. Avery’s soft skin is warm beneath my hands as I lie on my side and pull her into me, spooning side by side. The soothing feeling of holding her in my arms doesn’t last because Avery’s naked ass against my thighs pushes less calm things into my mind.
I burrow my face into the curve of Avery’s neck, breathing her subtle floral scent, and kiss her gently as I slide my hand across her naked belly. She murmurs and shifts against me, rubbing that gorgeous round ass against my hardening cock.
Inevitable.
“Avery,” I whisper, running my tongue along her neck and shoulders.
She makes a sleepy noise and doesn’t move so I nip her earlobe.
“Bryn.” She swats at my face with one hand, missing me in her half-asleep state.
I run my fingers along Avery’s side, to the top of her ass. “Wake up.”
“What time is it?”
“Time I fucked you,” I whisper.
Avery shifts around, looking at me with bleary eyes. “Charming.”
I drop a kiss on her mouth with a smile. “You fell asleep before I got to bed last night. Second night in a row. Do you know what rejection does to a man’s soul, cariad?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Some of us are busy,” she says pointedly.
“Some of us have needs,” I reply. “Such as, I need to fuck you.”
Avery tips her head back and grabs my curls as I slide my tongue across her soft tits and pull her nipple into my mouth. “Stop saying that.”
“What?” I flick her nipple with my tongue and push my hand between her thighs.
“You know.”
Avery’s naked; her pussy close to my fingers as I stroke the inside of her thigh, knowing my self-control won’t last long. “Fine, I won’t say it. I’ll just do it.”
I need this woman always, spend the hours we’re apart fantasising about the days we never leave the bedroom, the hours spent with her beneath me, on top of me, hands and mouths learning everything about each other. Sex with Avery is fucking amazing.
When I move my hand to the edge of her pussy, she’s already wet. I knew she would be because, despite her protests, she loves me talking to her this way. I prop up on one elbow and look down at her naked body. Avery looks back, eyes darkening with a need that matches mine. As I lean in to kiss her, I stroke my finger along her heated flesh. She eagerly kisses me back, tightening her small hand around my face. As her insistent kisses deepen, I thrust a finger into her, less patient than usual. Avery gasps and bucks against my hand. So fucking wet. I smile to myself that turning her on always happens so fast.
The heat and tightness around my finger, the fact she lies naked in bed with me all night and I left her alone, pushes lust to the top of my priority list. Avery holds my head in both hands and kisses me, as I seek out the place inside her that she loves me to touch, and stroke. Avery drags her mouth away, catching her breath.
“You feel fucking amazing,” I growl, increasingly blinded by anything but the need for her hot, tight pussy around my cock. I find her clit and tease her, watching the pleasure spreading across her face, her eyes closed and mouth parted slightly.
“It’s early, Bryn,” she murmurs.
“So?”
Shifting around to the side again, I drag her hips toward me. “Turn over,” I whisper against her ear.
Avery shifts onto her stomach and I grab a pillow, pushing it under her so that round, gorgeous backside is higher. I stroke my cock as I look down at her, thinking what a lucky bastard I am. I dip a finger into her again and kiss her neck, running my tongue down her back.
Two days since I felt her tight heat around
me and my brain switches off, dick taking over. Grabbing Avery’s hips I position myself and slam into her. She groans and lifts her ass higher, the okay I need. Digging my fingers into her waist, I thrust hard and deep. Avery reaches for the pillows and curls her hand around one of them, turning her face to one side. The pleasure on her face ramps up my lust, sometimes I’m too selfish to do the gentle, loving thing, entirely focused on my needs. The love and trust in our relationship allows me these moments and I fucking love it. So does Avery.
I fight the desire to slap her ass and reach around, seeking Avery’s clit with my fingers and rub, watching for her reaction. I tease her, my fingers wet with her arousal and Avery breathes out a moan as I match my thrusts with a circling thumb, lost against anything but the tight heat gripping me.
Our heavy breathing synchronises; there’s no way this is lasting long but I’m holding out until she comes first. The noises she makes that turn me the fuck on get louder and I push harder as they do, until Avery buries her face in the pillow, muffling the volume as the orgasm shudders through her body. I let go of Avery’s hair, keeping my finger on her clit as she squeezes tighter around my cock. More than ready, I let go of the barely held control and push into Avery hard and fast one last time, groaning through my own release.
I lie against Avery’s back, careful to hold my weight away and kiss her face and neck, her skin pink and hot from the pleasure I just gave her. Rolling onto my side, I hug Avery close, relaxation replacing the lust.
Avery shifts and turns to me, placing a hand on my chest, a small pout on her lips.
“Okay?”
“Bad man,” she whispers.
“Cariad, you love it.” I grin. Avery’s pout remains but with a small smile at one corner of her lips. I push damp hair from her face. “I love you so damn much.”
She smiles back at me. “I know. I love you.”
Her words surge into my heart. “Hurry up and finish those uni exams, there’re a million things I want to do with you before you start working.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know. You know I don’t plan. Just a million things, all that I need to do with you. More of that. A lot more.”
Avery snuggles into me, running her fingers along my chest, tickling. “Today I’d like to stay here with you. Have a lazy Sunday.”
I look down at her. “Lazy? You stay in this bed with me and there’ll be nothing lazy about it.”
Avery giggles. “That’s what I was hoping.”
Yeah, life with Avery is pretty damn awesome.
Chapter Thirty
BRYN
She can’t do this.
Hannah can’t contact me and throw everything into chaos again.
Emails begin to arrive from her in October. Several emails, increasingly urgent in tone, asking me to contact her. They’ve come to my personal account too, not the one we shared for secrecy that I no longer look at.
Hannah is revealing herself to the world, almost a year too late. Has Hannah seen my happiness and decided she lost something good?
Avery’s in Wales, visiting family for a couple of days during the half-term school holidays and I stare at the screen, anger and confusion vying for space in my head when I see yet another email from Hannah. I don’t want Hannah. Avery has filled the space in my life she left, the one she filled with false hope for too many years. My relationship with Avery is deeper than I imagined. We’re in tune and in love and there’s no doubt in my mind who I should be with.
But some things are hard to shake, despite the last few months of denying Hannah access to my mind.
I click open the last message.
Bryn,
I’m in Wales. I need to see you. It’s important.
Hannah
My stomach lurches. What’s so important that Hannah needs to bombard me with messages and not get the hint I have nothing to say? Fleetingly, the idea she might have had my baby crosses my mind. No. Five months is the longest between our meetings, I’d have noticed. We didn’t have sex the last time I met her so the idea is impossible.
What then? Another attempt to mess with my head because she’s confused? Split with her boyfriend and running to me?
Well, I’m not here for her. Not anymore.
But as the day passes, my need to know increases. I fight against returning Hannah’s message. Opening that was allowing a gap for her to creep through and I should never have bloody done it. Not once has Hannah been so insistent; if anything, she was always reticent in our communication.
Once.
I can contact her once, assuage my curiosity, and be firm that she has to stop this. I call the number she messaged me.
“Bryn!” My name rushes out with relief.
“What do you want, Hannah? You need to leave me alone.” I focus on my hostility in case she thinks she’s won.
“I have to see you.”
“Why?”
Her voice shakes. “I can’t tell you over the phone. Can we meet?”
“No.” Too far. This is one phone call, then over.
“Bryn! Please, I wouldn’t ask but I need this.”
“What? Money?”
“No!” Her voice cracks, thick with the tears pushing at my wall against her. “Just once, please. If you don’t want to see me again after, that’s fine.”
“I’m with somebody else now.”
“I know that. I’m not here to interfere with your relationship. I’m genuinely happy for you.”
“Then what? Tell me over the phone.”
“I can’t,” she whispers. “Bryn, I have to see you. It’s important, really important or I wouldn’t be begging you.”
‘Has to see me’? After blanking me, telling me to stay away, refusing to listen to me. Now she wants this? “I’ll think about it.”
“I go back to Australia at the end of the week.”
“Okay.”
I end the call before she worms further into my day, and I pace the room, a hole knocked through my new world she isn’t a part of. What do I say to Avery? Do I say anything to her? Dealing with this on my own is better. Avery doesn’t need to know if this is one meeting with Hannah. Besides, this could be a good thing – me and Hannah could part knowing this is the last time, forever.
****
I refuse to drive to Wales to see Hannah because memories of the teenage us would inevitably appear. Is asking me to meet her in Wales a plan to drag me backwards again? I tell Hannah she comes to my place in London or we don’t meet at all. Hannah might not care about people knowing she’s been in touch but I do. The last thing I need is a sly photo of Bryn Hughes with another woman, and a struggle to explain to Avery why. The press don’t tend to follow me or lurk outside my home as they do with Dylan and Jem, meeting here is the safest bet. Avery comes home tomorrow, I have to do this before she does and draw a line under everything.
Terrified I’ll feel something I shouldn’t when I see Hannah, I spend the morning filling my mind with all the wrong she’s done me. I can’t sit still or concentrate on anything, stuck on endless loops of what Hannah wants to see me about. The tension and adrenaline increases with each hour and as the time Hannah is due to arrive grows closer, so do my fears I’m doing the wrong thing.
When Hannah steps into my apartment, she blows away all the anger I had. Wrapped against the autumn weather in a long grey coat, she unwinds a scarf revealing a woman under stress. Dark shadows sit below her eyes and her face is lined by a tired defeat. When she unbuttons her coat, she reveals her frame has gone from slender to thin.
“Thanks for seeing me, Bryn.”
I remain in the spot. If I move, I don’t know what I’ll do. The haunted look in her eyes grabs me, and I resist the urge to take hold of Hannah and ask what’s wrong, I cross my arms tightly. “I’m totally confused.”
Hannah sits on the sofa and places her handbag on the floor. She refuses to look at me, staring at the bag.
“Do you want a d
rink?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
I lower myself into the armchair opposite. This has to be over with quickly. “What did you want to see me about?” Hannah takes deep breaths, twisting her hands. “Hannah?”
“There’s something you need to know. I never wanted to tell you, but I have to now because I need your help.” The words rush out, as rehearsed as the ones I have for her.
My heart rate spikes further. “What?”
“I came to Wales because of my brother,” she says softly.
“Your brother?” I rub my forehead. Her younger brother? Is it him she needs money for? This time when she nods, a tear spills. Shit. “Is he okay? Nothing happened to him did it?”
To my alarm, Hannah buries her face in her hands, shoulders shaking as she attempts to control her distress but fails.
“Hannah?” I reach out then pull my hand back. No, I can’t get dragged into her.
“Oh, God.” She looks at the ceiling wiping her eyes with both hands. I lean across the table and pull a tissue from the box, then pass it to her. “Bryn, I’m so sorry.”
“About what? You’re not making any sense. Did your brother tell somebody about us? That doesn’t matter now, does it?”
“Please don’t hate me,” she whispers. “I wanted to tell you, but…” Hannah trails off, back to fought back sobs.
Irritation joins the panic, at her dancing around, confusing me. “Tell me what, Hannah?”
“My brother. Connor. He isn’t my brother.” She breaks off and her breathing speeds as the tears choke the words from her. The pain in Hannah’s eyes as she looks at me, the fear hidden within confuses me further.
Hannah’s next words tear everything I understood about my world away.
“He’s yours. I mean ours. Connor is your son.”
The words bounce off me; her lie goes too far. This is impossible. “No, he isn’t.”
“Yes.”
“No.” I stand and cross my arms again. “Why are you saying this?”
“Bryn, he is. Why would I tell you if it wasn’t true?” Her puffed eyes, red from tears are wide with panic – fear I don’t believe her words. How can I? But Hannah never had a brother when she lived in Wales.
