Love in the Headlines: A Star-Crossed Friends-To-Lovers Romance (Love in the Headlines Series Book 1)

by Candace Knoebel

  “He’s very happy to see you.” I cupped her breast. Pulled her raised, fabric-covered nipple gently between my teeth. When she gasped, I put my hand between her thighs, touching the wetness that soaked her sweet spot. “I can tell you’re happy to see me too.” I slowly slipped a finger inside her, mapping the tight ripples that swelled around me.

  Her eyes drifted shut, head rolling back as I pumped in and out of her.

  “Mmm,” she moaned.

  I was hungry for her. Ravenous.

  Kneeling down, I spread her thighs. Kissed a trail up the supple skin. Inch by inch, nipping at her flesh, wanting to leave marks. Claiming her. Devouring her. Her hand fisted in my hair as she watched, pleasure marking her face in soft angles and harsh shadows.

  “Please,” she whimpered as I licked along the folds of her, my finger still working inside her, searching for the precious slope resting just past her rippling planes.

  When I sucked her clit into my mouth, her hamstrings went tight, and I smirked. Reveled in the way her thighs involuntarily bucked and jolted. Her hips moved up and down, more of her weight pressing against my face as she gave in to the sensation. To the control.

  Give in. That’s it.

  My eyes traced her belly, up to her breasts that bounced with every hesitant roll forward. She was silk across my lips. A fucking goddess taking what I offered.

  I watched in awe as the rosy hue of her cheeks deepened into something more carnal. Her hesitant movements shifting to encouragement. Exploring. Taking. Fully settling into herself.

  It wasn’t fair, how inhumanely beautiful she was in that moment. It nearly stole my breath as I drove her forward. The way desire hung on the perfect curve of her lips. The dark lashes sealing her eyes shut. The way her hands moved across her skin.

  And when she climbed over the edge, my hands on her ass, I soaked up every bit of her desire.

  Now, that was a good breakfast.

  ***

  “I got you pancakes, but I’m afraid they’re cold now,” I said, opening the Styrofoam containers. The sweet scent floated around us, eliciting a growl from my stomach.

  “My hero.” Her arms were looped around my waist, head resting against my back.

  I loved feeling the sated curves of her body wrapped around mine. Satisfaction seemingly pulsing from her pores. I was glad we had the weekend off because there was no way I was ready for her to leave. Maybe not ever.

  I moved the food onto plates and then put them into the microwave. She hopped onto the counter, her feet swaying from side to side. She looked completely at ease. A far cry from her usual apprehension. In its place, there was familiarity. A sense of belonging. No longer apologizing for the space she took up but now taking it up brazenly. Demandingly. And that thought made me smile. Made me feel good because as much as she had awakened something within me, I could see I had done the same for her. Something better. Something more.

  And wasn’t that what love was supposed to do?

  “Are you going to the gala next weekend?” I asked, studying her.

  She snorted. “Are you kidding? Quinn would flip if I didn’t.”

  “She goes anal over this every year,” I said with a chuckle.

  “Do you know her well?”

  I pulled her plate out and handed it to her. Watched as she slathered tons of syrup on. “As well as one can know Quinn.”

  A question formed in her eyes.

  “I’ve been around a few of the blowouts between Harrison and Quinn. The two of them …” I shook my head. “Sometimes, I wonder how they were ever a pair. Like oil and vinegar, those two.” I set my plate down. Ran a thumb over her knee. “You’ll be my date, of course.”

  The corner of her mouth hitched up. “Of course. That’s if you don’t think Harri—”

  Her words were cut off by the buzzing of my doorbell.

  My eyebrows dipped. “One sec,” I said, trying to figure out who the hell could be stopping by at this hour on a Saturday. My blood froze when I recognized the face on the screen.

  My father.

  “Who is it?” Prim called. Her hands moved over my shoulders as she stood on her tiptoes, trying to peer past me.

  If it wasn’t for her touch thawing me, I wasn’t sure I would have been able to move.

  “It’s my father.” My lungs felt punctured from the truth, robbing me of breath.

  How long had it been since I last saw him? Why was he here?

  Nothing good ever came of his presence in my life. Surely, this would be no different.

  “Oh dear.” Prim nudged her glasses. “I’m indisposed. And you’re … you’re …”

  “Not going to let him up.”

  Her shoulders sagged, a small, frumpy sound whooshing past her lips. “Grayson …”

  My head shook. “I’m serious. I have nothing to say to him.”

  I walked past her, heading for the kitchen even though the last thing I wanted was food.

  “You can’t ignore him. What if … what if he has something important to say?”

  “Then, he can call.”

  “But what if he wants to reconcile.”

  “When hell freezes over.” I opened the fridge, only to slam it shut. Messed with the dishes in the sink, rinsing them out before placing them in the dishwasher.

  “Grayson,” she said, and it was how she said my name, almost in a motherly tone, that had me spinning around. “I can only imagine what you’ve been through. How you must feel. But think of your mother.”

  My mouth fell open, but she was quick to close the distance, placing her fingertips over my lips to shush me.

  “I say it only because of how much she meant to you. How much you loved her. She wouldn’t want this for you. No mother ever would. Just … just hear him out. That’s all. I’ll be right here.”

  She removed her hand. Planted a soft, tender kiss against my lips that had my shoulders involuntarily bowing in defeat.

  “Fine.”

  She smiled.

  “But not before …” I glanced down at her half-naked body.

  “Oh,” she said with a lighthearted giggle. “Of course.”

  As she headed for the bathroom, I made my way to the door. My father stood there, his form bent over one of the large pots where a cluster of bushes were. He was wearing a suit. He was the type of man who likely slept in only business attire. His thick silver hair was perfectly combed back. His wrist wore a fat watch that was probably the latest Rolex as he stood back up and stared at my front door.

  What’s going through that head of yours, old man?

  Taking in a huge gulp of air, I pressed the buzzer.

  Here goes nothing.

  “What do you want?”

  His face lifted to the camera. The hands in his pockets wrenched out, clenched by his sides. “Is that any way to greet me?”

  I let out a groan. Banged my forehead against the wall. What would Mom want?

  With another encouraging inhale, I said, “Let’s not do this on my stoop. Come on. I’ll buzz you in.”

  And with a grumbled curse, I buzzed him up and then opened the door, waiting for the hurricane sure to come.

  ***

  “Are you satisfied now that you’ve inspected every inch of my home?” I asked. I pinched my forehead between my thumb and forefinger, wishing I’d gone with my gut and ignored him.

  Prim sat beside me on the couch, her hand rubbing small, soothing circles on my back as I watched my father scope and judge.

  “Yes,” he said with a gruff snort. “Seems you’ve done well for yourself.”

  I chortled. “Was that a compliment?”

  His back was still to me as he peered through the expansive windows.

  He never answered.

  “So, why are you here?”

  He turned. The heavy heels of his shoes clicked against the ground as he ambled to the love seat across from us. When he sat, his eyes veered in Prim’s direction. “Primrose Amberly. Might you be the girlfriend of my so
n? The one littering the tabloids as of late?”

  Before the embarrassment of his intrusive question sank in, I quickly answered, “Look, whatever it is you want, please get on with it.”

  I didn’t want him knowing a single detail about my life. The more he knew, the more leverage he would have for whatever he was scheming.

  Finally, his gaze pulled to mine, cold and odious. “You haven’t answered the RSVP.”

  “I figured my silence was a good enough answer. You did get the tulips, didn’t you?”

  He tsked. “And here I thought, you might have grown out of your childish mannerisms.”

  “Badgering me can’t be why you came.” I leaned forward. “What’s the real reason?”

  His lungs expanded and then contracted. Whatever it was, it must not be good because he never piddled around any problem. For him, problems were like golf balls he managed to sink every time. He always won. Always found a way out.

  “Soon, there will be a headline about a scandal with my name attached to it.” His gaze met mine head-on. He never was one to cower from any situation.

  “What kind of scandal?”

  He brought his hands together in front of him, pressed to a perfectly pointed steeple. “An affair.”

  My hands flew up in the air as I stood. “Jesus, Dad. Really? Is it …” I bent to his eye-level, peering at him. “Is it true?”

  A second ticked by. A silent, voided second that said it all.

  “You’re the best at what you do, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. When it comes to writing about fashion. Not indiscretion.”

  He crossed his legs, seemingly undisturbed.

  “I swear on everything,” I said as I started to pace with my hands in my hair.

  He must have lost his mind. Fallen completely off his rocker to think I would even attempt to handle his PR nightmare.

  “How many is that now? Four? Five? Does monogamy mean anything to you?”

  His chuckle was cutting. A harsh, serrated sound. “This coming from my son who was infamously dubbed the serial dater.” His eyebrow quirked. “The sins of the father, revisited by the son.”

  “Don’t even try to get biblical on me, old man. You already have a gold-stamped, one-way ticket to hell.” A stabbing ache speared the length of my clenched jaw.

  His smirk was deadly. “And you don’t?”

  “I might have dated a lot of women, but never once did I put a ring on any of them, only to find a newer model.” The words spewed past my lips with enough venom to paralyze.

  “What can I say?” he said with an apathetic shrug. “Marriage has its benefits. You should try it sometime.”

  I didn’t miss the look he darted in Prim’s direction.

  It infuriated me. Built a rage inside me that made my fingers itch to grab hold of his neck and snap it like a twig. Not for the marriage comment, but for the thought that I’d do to Prim what he’d done to every single woman he’d married after Mom died.

  There were times I looked in the mirror, recognizing pieces of him reflected there.

  And that scared the fucking hell out of me.

  “Grayson.” Prim’s voice was so quiet, it was barely audible. Tucked so far into the couch, she almost seemed invisible. She sort of waggled her finger, beckoning me, and then whispered, “Should I leave?”

  “No,” I said firmly, loudly. “I want you to stay. Witness his bullshit.”

  “An exposé article could work in your favor as well, Grayson. Your career would expand threefold by writing about me.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  He cursed under his breath. “Damn it, Grayson. Must you always make everything so difficult?”

  I spun so fast, his eyes popped wide. “And must you make everything about you?” I shouted. “You left Mom! Broke her faith when she needed you most. And now, you want me to help you clean up one of your messes?” My laughter fumed with disbelief. “Leave.”

  He stood. Took a few steps forward, stopping beside me, his gaze pinned on the wall. His shoulders, always so stiff and so firm, had gone slack. “Please, son. I’ll lose everything.”

  My chest vibrated with raw emotion. The wounds he’d left behind ripped clean open. The paper-thin years wedged between us, coated with his misdeeds. “Why should I care about what you lose?”

  He sighed deeply, fingers trailing up to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was as if he was fighting his own personal demons and losing. I almost felt sorry for him.

  “Things … haven’t gone well. My finances have taken a few hits. If she takes me to court, I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for. The team … it will be bought out from under me.”

  I looked at him. “Why would you think I’d feel sorry for you after all we’ve been through?”

  “I know I’ve made mistakes. None of which I can take back. All of which were done in an act of selfishness. I know that now, even if it took me a long time to see it, but if you stood beside me. Helped clear up the story—”

  “You honestly think they’d believe me? The son who openly hates his father?”

  He didn’t even wince. We were far past that.

  “That’s exactly why they’d believe it.”

  Everything I wanted to say was clogged in the back of my throat. He was right. And it angered me to think so. If I were to help him, it would only be to his advantage. Make him credible.

  “Please.”

  One word I’d never thought I’d hear from him. One word I hadn’t thought he’d even learned how to use. And he’d said it twice in a matter of minutes.

  His gaze swam with desperation. An expression that didn’t fit his sharp, pointed features.

  Something inside me cracked, like a sidewalk splitting from new life. I didn’t want to help. Not one single ounce of me, except for a small sprout of a thing pressing through my chest where Prim had pried her way in.

  “Let’s say I help you. What do you think will happen when you decide to cheat again? That’s my reputation … no … my career on the line.”

  “There will be no other affairs.”

  I choked on his words.

  “After the divorce, I will not remarry.” His confidence wavered. “As you well know, I’m not cut out for it.”

  My head shook as I glanced away from him, down to Prim still tucked into herself on the couch. There was a softness in her gaze. An openness, nudging me to embrace the chance.

  I looked away from her. “I’m sorry, Dad. I just … I can’t.”

  The anger that rippled across his face was red and hot. He pulled out his phone. Scrolled for a few seconds. “I tried to play nice. One call to Harrison will remedy this arrogant, foolish refusal.”

  “I’ll do it.” It was Prim who spoke, her sugary voice cutting through this stale moment. She rose from the couch and took a step forward, hands steeled at her sides. “I can write the story for you.”

  “And why would I want you to write it?”

  “I work for Virago. You want a chance to clear your name, right? Who better to write your story than a blog geared toward women? I’m very good at what I do. And considering your issue is with fidelity, it would only help your cause to have a woman write on your behalf.” Prim spoke with a confidence I’d yet to see in her. There was a shift in her eyes. A hope I didn’t understand.

  “And you’d be fine with her taking the offer?” he tossed my way. “Seems like you have a shark on your hands.”

  I looked to Prim, who almost begged me with her gaze to give it to her, and I knew then why Quinn had picked her to work at Virago. She had that hunger for more, captivating and all-consuming. The journalist inside her scratching—no, clawing to break free.

  An idea took flight in Dad’s eyes. “She might be right. Virago—a strong feminist blog—clearing my name.” His gaze fell onto Prim, a slow smirk worming across his lips. “All right, I’ll bite. I’ll give you the piece. I’ll have my people contact you.”

  Prim didn’t return the smile when she sh
ook his hand. Her spine was as straight as an arrow as words formed across her lips. “But let this be known, Mr. Pierce. Should you ever cheat on another woman again and I learn of this, the next piece I write will be the end you. I only hope you’re capable of learning from your mistakes. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  My jaw was somewhere on the floor as she strode away, disappearing into the bathroom. More than likely to collect herself. I knew Prim, and that must have been hard for her, but damn, was she sexy when she bit back. A lioness in the wild.

  “I can see why you like her,” Dad said with the faintest of smiles. “She has a spirit like your mother’s.”

  I tensed.

  “I’ll have my team contact her tonight.” He placed his hand on my shoulder in the most detached of ways. “This is the right thing, son.”

  My teeth ground together. “I hope so.”

  And with that, he left.

  You’ve Got Gall

  Prim

  I STARED IN THE MIRROR at the reflection of a woman I didn’t recognize. Venom lived on the tip of her tongue. Fury in her veins. I knew I was playing with fire, but I’d only just realized how good I was at stoking the flames. And it felt good too. No … it’d felt fucking fantastic to say those things to a man like Mr. Pierce … who used his power to buy his safety. It was men like him who were our biggest objective to overcome as women. The exact type Virago stood against.

  Which was exactly why I had to write this story.

  Not only would I change the narrative, but I’d also be protecting Grayson by tossing the player story deep into the fire I’d created.

  So long as I could convince Quinn.

  “Prim?”

  It was Grayson. He knocked on the bathroom door, his tone hesitant and strained with worry.

  “He’s gone?”

  I couldn’t bear facing Mr. Pierce. Not after all I’d heard. Not after all I’d said.

  “Yeah,” Grayson said, his voice streaming through the door. “I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

  I cracked it open. Pulled him inside the bathroom by the hem of his shirt. His lips were against mine the moment we were near each other again, appetent and frantic. I felt his pain unwinding through his kiss. Heavy and dark and binding. All those years, he’d been locked away in his heart, hiding from the monster that was his father. I understood now why he’d found it hard to commit. His fear that didn’t truly belong to him.