Making Love (Destiny Book 1)

by Catherine Winchester

  By the time Will phoned that evening, I knew that whatever happened, I was pretty confident that I could weather the storm and I told him as much.

  “Oh, darling, I’m so pleased to hear you say that.” He sounded more relieved that I expected.

  “I’m sorry if I worried you, I didn’t mean to. That’s just how I operate, sometimes I need to be alone.”

  “I understand. I’m just glad you decided to give us a chance.”

  “Me too.”

  “It feels strange to be going to sleep without you.”

  He was right. Somehow, although we’d only been dating for three weeks, sleeping beside him had become normal.

  “I know.”

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “In bed, so your voice is the last thing I hear before going to sleep.”

  “I can be there in fifteen?” he purred in his sexiest voice.

  I laughed. “God, Braxton, you’re so tempting, you should be a deadly sin.”

  “Ooh, do I give you impure thoughts, my child?” he teased.

  “Yes, Father Braxton, I’ve been a very bad girl, tempted by my boyfriend’s serpent.”

  He roared with laughter. “Like I said, I can be there to guide you into temptation in a few minutes.”

  “You’ll last one night,” I assured him. I still wanted a little time to sleep on things, just to make sure I still felt the same way tomorrow.

  “Fine,” he pretended to huff. “See if I care.”

  “You love me really,” I teased.

  “I can't think why. First you run out on me, then you decline my offers to come and see you.”

  “It’s my spaghetti, it makes everyone fall in love with me. I lace it with love potion number 9.”

  He chuckled for a moment before asking, “Do you want to come running with me in the morning?”

  “Because that worked out so well last time?” I replied deadpan.

  The poor chap had spent half the time jogging in place while I caught up. I’m not unfit, at least I didn’t used to think I was, but with his long legs, he could run rings around me. It meant that I pushed myself harder, so I couldn’t even talk while we ran because I was huffing and puffing so much.

  “Well if you’d stop falling back just so you could check out my butt, we wouldn’t have a problem.”

  “Tell you what, Mr Sex Bomb, I’ll meet you for lunch afterwards.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “How about that deli near yours?”

  “Sounds good. I’m not distracting you from work, am I?”

  I loved that he seemed to care about my work, and gave me space to do it. I’d had some boyfriends, especially those who had good jobs in the City, who viewed my work as a hobby and didn’t seem to get that I sometimes faced deadlines.

  “Are we going back to yours after?” he asked.

  “If you want to.”

  “I might have to do a few hours, depends how much I get done in the morning.”

  “I’ve got a couple of scripts to look over,” he said, letting me know he wasn’t going to monopolise my time.

  “Sounds great.”

  We chatted for a while longer before we said goodnight, and I went to sleep with a small smile on my lips.

  Chapter Five

  The first time we were separated was awful. He was in America for two months, filming, and we were both missing each other like crazy.

  We texted throughout most of the day and spoke on the phone each night, but it wasn’t the same.

  “I should have four days off this weekend, why don’t you fly out,” he suggested after three weeks away. We had already discussed that since my work was saved onto the cloud, as long as I had internet access, my laptop and tablet, I could work from anywhere, but not only would his lifestyle disrupt my life pretty severely, I was feeling the pressure of money.

  I’m not poor by any stretch of the imagination, and I consider myself lucky to be able to earn a good living, but my wages were nowhere near his league. I had a few thousand in savings but monthly or bi-monthly trips abroad would quickly eat into those funds, even if I didn’t have to pay for accommodation.

  I hated accepting hand-outs though, which is why, although he had grumbled to begin with, I insisted on paying for every other meal we had out. It only seemed fair to me, just like it was only fair that I paid for my own flights if I was going to visit him. Why should he pay for my travel? This wasn’t the 1800s, when women were considered property and men were supposed to pay for everything.

  Even the cheapest flights were almost £600 though, and I wasn’t sure I could justify that for 4 days.

  “I don’t know,” I said softly.

  “Please, darling. I’d love to see you.”

  I hesitated. I wanted to see him too but it felt indulgent.

  “You know I’d come and see you if I could,” he coaxed.

  I knew he would, and the only reason he hadn’t suggested it was that with 12 to 14 hour flights, his travelling would rob us of two days, while I could travel the day before and after.

  “Do you think you might get any more time off soon?” I asked. Maybe if I could stretch the visit to a week or two, I could justify it as a holiday.

  “Not sure,” he answered. “We get Sundays off but any more than that depends on if we have any setbacks or finish early. Why, are you thinking of staying longer?”

  “I wondered about making a holiday of it.”

  “That’s a great idea!” I could hear the enthusiasm in his voice. “I can’t promise to be around much on the days we’re shooting, but you can come to the set, or go out and do tourist stuff.”

  “Are you sure I wouldn’t be in the way?”

  “Darling, you could never be in the way. How long were you thinking of staying?”

  “I don’t know. Two weeks, maybe?”

  “You can stay longer.”

  “I’m not sure if I can commit to longer yet, the children’s book is coming out at the beginning of next month and the publishers said they might want me for the promotion.”

  “They don’t know?”

  “I don’t know what shows they’re going to book yet. The writer will do most of it but if they get some art programs, they might ask me to do it. They said something about Art Attack and giving a quick tutorial on how kids can draw the characters themselves, but I haven’t heard back.”

  Honestly, that would probably be towards the end of next month, but I didn’t want my presence to interfere with Will’s life too much.

  “Tell you what,” he said, “I’ll book you an open ended ticket, then you can go back when you want.”

  “I can book the flights.”

  “Honestly, darling, it’s no trouble.”

  No, just a lot of expense. “It’s no trouble for me either.”

  “I can have someone at the studio do it.”

  “And I have internet access and a keyboard.”

  He sighed. “All right, if you’d rather. Just let me know flight numbers and times so I can meet you.”

  As romantic as a mid-airport reunion sounded, “Aren’t we supposed to be keeping our relationship quiet?”

  “Then I’ll send a car,” he assured me. “Either way, I want to know when to expect you.”

  “Okay, I’ll text you as soon as they’re booked.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider making the booking on my card?”

  “That’s really sweet, but I’m fine. Thank you though.”

  He sighed but dropped it. “I can't wait to see you.”

  “And me.”

  ***

  The flight was awful. Over 14 hours, squeezed into a teeny seat on a crowded plane was not my idea of a good time. I didn’t get any sleep either as my neighbour slept like a baby, but snored like an elephant. Even nudging him didn’t stop him for long and although I asked for a replacement set of headphones, I just couldn’t turn the inflight movies up enough to cover his snores. Once he awoke, a baby took
over, wailing as if he was being brutally murdered for the duration of the flight, so it’s fair to say that I was fairly fractious when I arrived in LA.

  The clocks also informed me that although I had left at noon and flown for 14 hours it was still only 4pm in LA time, hours until I could sleep. I knew from past experience that it was best to stay awake for as long as I could, to acclimatise to the new time zone as quickly as possible.

  Still, a nap on the plane would have been nice.

  By the time I had cleared customs, immigration and baggage claim, it was nearly 3am, London time, I just hoped I didn’t look as dead as I felt. I didn’t have the energy to visit the bathroom and touch up my make-up however.

  I was definitely glad that I’d agreed to two weeks though, this hassle simply wasn’t worth it for 4 days.

  As I exited into the terminal, I was surprised to see someone holding a sign with my name on. He looked like every driver you’ve ever seen in the movies, immaculately turned out in a black suit, white shirt and black tie.

  “I’m Eleanor Greystone,” I said as I approached.

  To his credit, he didn’t do a double take or rear away in fright at the sight of me, so I couldn’t look too bad. Instead, he smiled and nodded at me.

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Greystone. May I take your bags?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” My case, although massive, did have wheels.

  “Please,” he insisted. “It’s part of my job description.”

  Since I didn’t want him to get in trouble, I allowed him to take the case, but I kept the hand luggage.

  He led me to a black town car located in a car park that was surprisingly close to the airport, which must be for VIPs, of which I wasn’t one but I was so pleased to get off my feet and sit in a comfortable seat, that I overlooked the special treatment for now. He held the door open for me and took my hand luggage as I slipped into the car.

  My eyes were actually hooded now and I wanted nothing more than to lie flat on the seat and sleep, so my brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders and I was very slightly shocked to find my head resting on someone’s thigh.

  Okay, I shrieked and sat upright faster than a jack-in-the-box.

  “I’m sorry, darling.” It was Will. Of course it was Will.

  I smiled at him. “No, I’m sorry, I’m not 100% right now.”

  Will held his arms out to me and I eagerly fell into his embrace. I was kind of glad for the shock now, since it had woken me up enough to enjoy our reunion. Maybe straddling your boyfriend in the back seat of a car isn’t exactly classy behaviour but the privacy screen was up and I was wearing jeans, so it was hardly indecent. I kind of wished I’d worn a skirt now though.

  The car started and stopped a few times at lights and the like, so neither of us noticed immediately when the driver parked. In fact once he had got my cases out and opened the door, he had to cough to get our attention. Shamefaced, I crawled off Will’s lap and exited the car with as much dignity as I had left, which was virtually nothing. I could see the driver trying his hardest not to smile but he cracked when Will grinned at him.

  “Thank you, George.”

  “My pleasure, Mr Braxton.”

  We had been dropped off at a house near the beach, but I already knew roughly what to expect from the pictures Will had texted me. My bags were sitting on the porch and Will helped me carry them into the front hall.

  “So, what do you want to do?” Will asked. “Unpack first or are you hungry?”

  “Unpacking can wait,” I assured him, knowing that my second wind wasn’t likely to last for long. “Feed me, fuck me, then put me to bed, in that order.” I teased.

  “Does it have to be in that order?” he asked, slipping his hands around my waist and pulling me against him.

  “We could combine the two!” I raved. “I can eat salad off you and lick the dressing up!”

  He gave me a disbelieving look and I could almost see him wondering if I was serious but not wanting to offend me by asking.

  “I’m sorry, my sense of humour gets very weird when I’m overly tired. Or ill. I seem to lose the filter on my thoughts and just say the first thing that comes into my head. And I think maybe my brain misfired because I don’t usually even think this stuff. Oh, and I ramble, as you might already be realising.”

  He had an adorable smile on his lips, as if he couldn’t tell if I was cute or crazy but either way, he was greatly enjoying himself at my expense.

  “I’ll shut up now.”

  “Don’t,” he kissed me softly. “I think I like tired Elle even more than drunk Elle. She’s cute but tired Elle is funny too.”

  “Drunk me is fun!” I wasn’t quite with it enough to realise he was pulling my leg.

  “She is,” he agreed. “We’re going to have to order in I’m afraid, I only got off work in time to come and get you, so I haven’t had a chance to do any shopping. What are you in the mood for?”

  “Chinese. Or Italian. Pizza and garlic bread. Ooh, or Indian, I love Indian. But they do fantastic burgers over here, I haven’t had a proper burger since the last time I was in the states. Or maybe we should just keep it simple and have sandwiches.”

  “Does tired you also have trouble making decisions?”

  “Um, maybe. Why?”

  “No reason, darling.” He stole a final kiss and released me. “How about you run a nice relaxing bath and trust me to order something you’ll like.”

  Wow, that really did sound tempting. It’s not that I was dirty but after a day travelling, I felt like I was.

  “What if I fall asleep in the tub?”

  “I’ll tip cold water on your head and wake you.”

  I gasped. “Ooh, you are a mean boy! You are a very very… mean boy!” Go easy on me, I had been awake for 22 hours at this point.

  He just grinned at my pathetic insults. “Top of the stairs, second door on the right. As soon as I’ve ordered, I’ll bring you up a glass of wine.”

  “You are so sweet.”

  He laughed. “Go on up, I’ll bring your bags up.”

  The idea of a bath was too tempting to resist any longer so I went willingly. My stuff was in my bags so I used his shower gel and shampoo, and it felt amazing to be so surrounded by his scents again. I was enjoying myself just a little too much however, so rather than fall asleep, I kept it short and by the time Will brought me the wine, I was just towelling off.

  “Done so quickly?”

  “If I’d stayed in there any longer, I might have passed out.”

  I was just pinning the towel around me when Will ripped it away, making me shriek.

  “William! You’re supposed to be a gentleman!”

  He scooped me into his arms, bridal style. “Not when you’re naked, darling,” he said as he carried me through into the bedroom. “You bring out my inner Neanderthal.”

  I’d like to say that he belied those words by being a considerate lover but the truth is, we were both extra horny from being parted for so long, and we went at it like a couple of rabbits.

  As luck would have it, the food (pizza) came just minutes after we had finished and we ate in the bedroom, under the covers, with the music on low in the background. I could only eat two slices before I fell asleep but luckily, Will didn’t have to do much more than move the pizza box to tuck me in.

  ***

  I was up too early the next day but at least I was refreshed. Will was usually an early riser so I headed to the kitchen to raid his tea stash. Luckily, he’d obviously brought some from home (having holidayed in the States before, I know that what the Americans call tea is more like dish water). I had brought my own too but I didn’t want to wake Will by hunting through my cases.

  He came down not long after me and kissed me good morning.

  “Sorry I zonked out on you last night."

  “Totally to be expected,” he assured me.

  “You going for a run this morning?” I asked, noticing his running clothes.

  “
The shoot is pretty gruelling so if I don’t, I’ll feel it when I go back.” He sounded really apologetic.

  “I’ll be fine, I’ll do some unpacking while you’re gone. Do you want some tea before you go?”

  “I’d rather get it over with, then we can go out for breakfast.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  I kissed him and he jogged towards the front door calling, “Be back as soon as I can.”

  God, I’d missed him.

  I pottered around, unpacking my things, setting my laptop up and connecting it to the wifi. Will ran back in, pausing only long enough to kiss me on his way to the bathroom, making me laugh.

  I got dressed while he was in the shower and was ready to go once he had changed. When he got out of the shower, his hair was still damp and starting to curl at the ends, which made me, um, rather randy. So after a small, uh, delay, we went to breakfast.

  We spent the rest of the day with Will showing me some of his favourite places, such as Venice Beach (I personally don’t see much of interest in a beach, but watching the hot guys work out was a definite plus), his favourite shops and we were going to one of his favourite eateries that night.

  It was an enjoyable day but at the same time, also very strange. This was the first time really, when we couldn’t act like a couple. We walked side by side most of the time, after all, I could have been anyone (and I was a nobody) and Will wore a baseball cap and glasses, so few people paid much attention to us. Still, it was odd not being able to reach out and take his hand, or kiss him, or put my arm around him, and feel him do the same.

  Back in London, we hadn’t really done much touristy stuff, because we were both locals. The places we went to eat, were usually out of the way places that Will had frequented for years, and the owners were somewhat protective of him and gave him out of the way tables, or stopped people trying to surreptitiously take pictures on their phones. These were also not locations that were likely to be frequented by the paparazzi.

  That night though, we were going to Culina, a modern Italian which was at the Four Seasons and usually had one or two paps hanging around nearby, which meant I had to go in alone and wait for Will.