Star (Beautiful Book 5)

by Lilliana Anderson

  “I’m sorry,” I call up to him, my voice echoing through the night. “I really am sorry.” Then I turn and run down the street, bypassing other city dwellers who look at me in confusion or concern, and when I can’t run anymore, when my head and my body is as weary as it can be, I pull out my phone.

  “Please. I need you. Will you come and get me?”

  Twenty-Four

  Jonathan

  I tell Siri to message Sandra so she knows I’m about to pull up outside the café she said she’d wait at. The moment she pushes out the door, the stricken expression on her face ties my gut up in knots. I’ll fucking kill that rat bastard chef if he did anything to hurt her.

  “What happened?” My voice comes out more gruff than I expected it, and her face crumples as she pulls the door shut behind her.

  “Can we just go?”

  “What did he do to you?” Now I sound even angrier. But I can’t help it. It’s Sandra, and she’s close to tears.

  “Nothing. I’m not hurt. I’m just…” She shakes her head. “Can we just go, please?”

  The pleading in her voice softens my abrasiveness. “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

  Hugging her bag to her chest, she looks out the window. “I don’t care. Anywhere. Just go. Please.”

  Setting the car in motion, we don’t speak as I navigate the darkened streets and take her out of the city towards Pyrmont, where I live. Pulling into the underground security car park, I manoeuvre into my parking spot then cut the engine.

  “Come on,” I say, switching off the engine and unbuckling my seatbelt.

  “Is this where you live?” she asks, brow furrowed, voice hoarse. When I look at her hands, she’s shaking. Fuck. What happened? I never should have let her go anywhere with this guy. They met in a elevator for fuck’s sake. He could be a serial date rapist for all I know and he’s been grooming her this entire time.

  “Mostly.” I keep my voice soft and reach over the console, pressing the button that unlatches her seatbelt. “How about I get you a drink, and you tell me what’s got you so upset?”

  Taking a deep breath, she nods then pushes open her door, following me out of the car park and up a small set of stairs, out into a quiet garden area that always smells of sweet trees and sea breeze. To the right is a gate that leads directly to Regatta Wharf with views of Johnstons Bay and Anzac Bridge. It’s quiet, it’s peaceful, and it’s beautiful. It’s probably my favourite place in the world. And under any other circumstances, having Sandra here would make it a thousand times better. But there’s something eerily fragile about her behaviour, and I’m afraid of whatever has made her this way. It’s like her confidence was snatched by the wind.

  She stops walking and looks around as if she’s not sure where she is or why she’s here. Is she drugged?

  I reach out and wrap my fingers around hers. “Would you like to walk along the wharf first?” I ask, thinking the fresh air might be better than alcohol. She nods but doesn’t speak, and I’m nervous but relieved when her grip tightens around mine. Something has changed. Something has happened. Something since this afternoon. Is this strangeness in her because I kissed her? Or is it because that Brad guy upset her? My mind is whirling, but all I can do is focus on the connection buzzing between us as we walk along the wooden planks as the harbour’s breeze whips at our clothes and hair.

  “It’s beautiful here,” she says finally, her voice quiet as she looks out at the ocean and admires the different coloured lights of the buildings across from us that reflect off the moving water.

  “I like it.” I smile and take a deep lungful of air.

  Turning towards me, her eyes drift over my outfit. “Oh no.” Her eyes widen as she takes in the tux I’m wearing, although I’ve removed the jacket, and the tie hangs loosely around my neck while the top two buttons of my shirt are undone. I hate these things. “You were at a premiere tonight, weren’t you?”

  “I was.”

  “Holy shit, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have called you to come and get me. I was being ridiculous. I should have just caught a cab.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I release her hand and brush the backs of my fingers against the curve of her cheek. An ache I can’t ignore courses through my body at the sensation of her skin. I need this woman in my life. More than I’ve ever needed anything. “If you need me, Sandra. No matter where I am in this world. I will come to you.”

  Sandra

  The sincerity of his words causes my emotions to push their way to the surface, and I wonder, why me? Why him? What is it about the two of us that seems so wrong but so right at the same time? I have never connected to another person the way I do with Jonathan, and to be honest, it scares me. Not because of who he is, but because of how he makes me feel. He makes me feel as though I’m lost and that I need him to find my way. I don’t want to need him. I don’t want to feel this way for a man who might not be capable of staying. And the fact I’m carrying his baby makes this all so much harder.

  “How can I believe that?” I whisper, as my struggle with my emotions is lost and a tear escapes my eye anyway, running down my cheek where Jonathan captures it with his thumb. I want to believe him. I need to believe him. Because when I tell him we’ve created a life, I need to be sure he wants me for me, and not just because I’m having his child.

  “Because it’s true,” he assures me, his eyes open and honest and begging me to believe. Begging me to trust.

  My eyes close, spilling more salt-water confusion on my cheeks as my breath hitches and my thoughts wage a war in my mind.

  “Why are you crying? What happened tonight?”

  More tears fall and I drop my chin, making him release his hold as I step away and shake my head, unable to trust myself to speak without losing it completely.

  “OK,” he murmurs, taking me by the hand again and walking with me back to his apartment. Once we’ve made it inside, I look around, surprised that while it is lovely, it isn’t at all what I expected. I was expecting it to be one of those white, black and chrome, ultramodern designs. Instead, he lives in an apartment that looks—for want of a better word—normal. The walls and floors are neutral earth tones, his sofa is over stuffed and brown with mismatched cushions, his dining table is made of distressed wood, surrounded by mismatched chairs, and his surfaces contain clutter. It’s not messy, there’s just stacks of books, magazines, and mail. And on a desk in a study alcove, is a pile of what I’m assuming are scripts. I can also see one that has been left open and face down on the couch.

  I drop his hand and walk around his apartment, finding my calm in the distance between us as I stop by the couch to pick up the script. “Is this for a new project?” I ask, keeping my thumb between the pages so I don’t lose his spot as I flip it closed to see the title. “Trials of Love and Failure. Is this one of those ‘romantical’ movies?”

  I glance up at him, a small smile playing on my lips as I attempt a joke to lighten the mood. Then I watch him walk towards me with a glass of white wine in his hand, his expression calm as he reaches out and takes the script from my hands, replacing it with the glass.

  “It’s a project I’m thinking of accepting. But that means travel, and I’m not sure I’m ready to leave home again just yet.” He flips the script closed and tosses it so it lands on the table with a thud then walks around the couch and once again takes my hand, pulling me down with him so we’re both sitting, his arm across the back of the couch so it’s around me, but not quite touching me.

  “Now, talk to me, Red. Tell me what’s going on with you. What happened tonight?”

  My smile fades, and I place the wine on the coffee table. “Nothing bad. Brad didn’t do anything wrong. We ate, talked, pretended to watch the movie, and it was all fine. Then he…” I swallow because I feel strange admitting how far things went to Jonathan. And I feel strange that I’m here with Jonathan when I was supposed to be with Brad. And I feel strange that I’m here with a man who was once engaged to my best friend.
And I feel strange because there’s a life growing inside me. I’m confused about so many things, but the one thing I’m sure of is that I’m drawn to him. I feel as though I need him in my life, or at least my life needs him in it. We just…we fit. And I’m too overwhelmed to fight that anymore.

  “He what?” he asks, a tinge of demand and concern to his voice when I still haven’t continued. I turn to face him, shaking my head in Brad’s defence.

  “He was a complete gentleman, it was all me. Things got heated, and I panicked and…”

  “You ran.”

  “I ran. I couldn’t go through with it. Brad is a good guy. He wouldn’t hurt me, not intentionally anyway.”

  His fingers move to brush through my hair. “I wouldn’t hurt you either.”

  “Yes. You would. You might not mean to. But you would.”

  “Then I will prove to you, with time, that I won’t. You feel what’s between us, Red. You can’t deny it. What we have, it’s the real deal. Your heart knows it. Your brain just needs to catch up.”

  “I’m not denying it, I’m just…god. I’m a mess,” I sulk as a fresh tear spills from my eye. I wipe it away quickly, sniffing. “This is all your fault, you know. You should have let me go to my parents’ instead of taking me to that hotel. Then none of this wouldn’t have happened and...”

  “And what?”

  “Why couldn’t you have just walked away from me?”

  “Because I wanted you the moment you stuck that finger of yours in my face like you were the boss of the world,” he whispers, his blue eyes boring into mine. “And now I want everything with you, Red.”

  “I don’t want to fall for you. You will hurt me and I will never recover.”

  “Doesn’t it already hurt? This not being together. It hurts, don’t you think?”

  Pressing my lips together, I nod, my eyes watering as I whisper, “I’m scared.”

  “So am I. I’ve never felt this way about someone before. But I think we can figure it out. Together.”

  “Jonathan, I—”

  “Need to shut up and let me kiss you.”

  And as if understanding how momentous this is for me, he kisses me softly, gently. A slow movement that breaks down my emotional barriers and becomes more passionate as I allow myself to feel everything I’ve been fighting since that first night. I let go of the reasons I think we won’t work and the reasons we shouldn’t be, and I just. give. in.

  The kiss builds to a passion that seems greater than the both of us, my problems melt away, and all I can do is revel in the feeling of his hands on me. My body takes on a life of its own as my hands move to pull his tie free from his shirt, dropping it on the floor before I work on the buttons of his dress shirt. I need to feel the warmth of his skin. I need him to want me when I’m insecure and at my worst. I need him to take me, claim me, stay with me and keep me. The circumstances surrounding us aren’t ideal, and they’ll probably never be ideal. But I can’t fight anymore. I want him to want me. I want him.

  Pushing the fabric off his shoulders I place my palms on his chest, luxuriating in the warmth beneath them and the rapid beating of his heart. Gripping my hips, he drags me across his body so I’m straddling his waist, the stretch fabric of my dress sliding up to bare my thighs.

  His hands glide down my legs, causing a rash of goose bumps to raise in the wake of his touch, then he moves his hands back up, sliding beneath the material where he pauses when he reaches my buttocks, his hands resting on my curved flesh on the outside of my panties.

  “This doesn’t feel real,” he whispers, teeth dragging over my bottom lip as he sucks it into his mouth.

  “It’s real,” I gasp, my hands lacing behind his neck. I press myself against him, feeling his arousal through his suit pants, hard against my core. I rock over it slightly, my body needing to feel him where it throbs. “I want you, Jonathan.”

  “Jesus, Red. I’ve been dying to hear that.” He lets out a soft groan, his fingers digging into my flesh.

  “I don’t know why I kept you away. I…” Feeling out of my mind with desire, I continue to kiss and rock, his hard shaft hitting me exactly where it’s needed. “I think I need you too.”

  “Fuck, Red. You’re killin’ me.” Between us, there is only the thin cotton of my now soaked panties and the fabric of his pants. As I move, the gentle friction causes a buildup of energy inside me, coiling within my body and desperate to burst out. His fingers bite into my arse cheeks and his tongue delves hungrily in my mouth. I rub myself over him, unable to stop until my eyes roll back and my body shudders as I come undone on top of him.

  “Oh god,” I moan, throwing my head back in ecstasy as his hands leave my arse and he wraps his arms around my middle, hugging me against him as I shudder over him, tiny moans continuing to leave my throat as he presses gentle kisses to my neck and my chest. I lift my head, my body languid as he once again brings his lips to mine, returning our kiss to its gentle beginnings, keeping every movement slow, like we’re both savouring this moment in case it will never happen again.

  “You’re so beautiful when you come. I could watch you do that all night,” he whispers when I pull away for breath. I smile, my hands moving over the smooth skin of his chest, heading downward, ready for more. I need him to want me.

  Just once. Then I’ll tell him about the baby. I need one night where it’s only us.

  “Take me to the bedroom,” I whisper against his lips, my fingers working the button on his pants.

  He groans. Then he stops my hands with his. “I want to, Red. I really do. But I think I should take you home.”

  I pull my head back as if slapped, looking at him with a frown as that cloud of desire quickly dissipates, and I’m left feeling emotionally exposed and very foolish. “You…you want to take me home?” I repeat, in case I didn’t hear right.

  “I think we need to slow this down a little.”

  “Slow?” Feeling slightly embarrassed at my wonton display, I slide off him and quickly straighten my dress, running my hands over my face and smoothing down my hair.

  “I think we rushed into this the first time.”

  “You’ve been chasing me for, what? Six weeks now? That isn’t slow enough for you?”

  “You’re upset,” he states, reaching out to touch my shoulder in comfort.

  “I’m fine. I get it. It’s fine,” I tell him, moving away because I don’t want his comfort. I pick up the still full wine glass and take it to the kitchen, picking up my bag from beside the door. “Can you just call me a cab? I don’t want you to go to any trouble. I’d do it myself but I don’t know your address.”

  He moves to stand in front of me. “I’m going to drive you.”

  “It’s fine.” I smile, even though I’m struggling not to cry. Again. Oh hell, I’m a complete mess of hormones, pent up desire and lies.

  “It’s not fine. You have to stop doing this. Talk to me. What’s happened that has you so upset. Is it because I’m not going to sleep with you?”

  I shift nervously in front of him. “God. When you put it like that, it makes me sound so childish. I’m just embarrassed. I lost complete control. I don’t normally act like that around men.”

  He takes my face in his hands, and I close my eyes, turning away, not wanting to face him. “What you did just now was the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life,” he says. “Don’t ever be embarrassed for how you feel.”

  “Then why did you stop?” I ask, unable to keep the question inside.

  His hands move from my face to my hips, and he pulls me against him, pressing his still throbbing erection against my stomach. “Do you feel that?” he whispers in my ear, his breath warm as his lips brush against my lobe and sends chills coursing through me. “That is what you do to me. And I feel like an arse because you’re standing here upset, thinking I don’t want you, and I see you’re upset, and I’m trying to do right by you and comfort you. But all I can think about is how good it would feel to be inside you, and how m
uch I want to watch you come again. But I’m trying to show restraint. I’m trying to show you I’m not ruled by sex so you can trust me. Let me prove to you that I’m the kind of man you deserve. Let me show you I can do right by you. Please.” His voice strains as he rests his forehead against mine, and I think it might be the most beautiful thing any man has ever said to me. It was exactly what I needed to hear.

  “Jonathan?” I whisper, my hands shaking as I clutch at his sides. “I need to tell you something.”

  He pulls back and presses his lips to my forehead. “You can tell me anything.”

  Then his eyes meet mine and my tongue feels thick. How is he going to react?

  “Are you OK?”

  I nod. Then I shake my head and fight the urge to cry.

  His hands cup my face either side as he searches my eyes. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you, OK?”

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and open my mouth. “I’m pregnant,” I blurt, opening my eyes just in time to see the shock register in his. “It’s yours.”

  He releases me and stumbles back like a drunk who’s been punched in the jaw, landing on the couch with a thud. “Pregnant?”

  Pressing my lips together, I nod. “Say something. I’m freaking out here.”

  “How long?”

  “Well, we only had sex once, so it’s been six weeks. But technically, I’m eight weeks because they count it from the date of your last period.” It all comes out in a rush and I twist my fingers together. “You’re the only person I’ve slept with.”

  He takes a moment to digest the information. “I meant, how long have you known?”

  “Oh, since this afternoon. You mentioned periods at the river and I realised I was late.”

  “That’s why you freaked out?”

  “Kinda. Everything about this afternoon was intense.”

  He nods slowly, then he holds out his hand to me. “Come here.”

  I do as he asks, sliding my hand in his once I’m close enough. “Are you freaking out?”