Never Been Worse (Evergreen Park #3)

Chapter 17 – Wes

SEVENTEEN

WES

I don’t know what I was thinking, storming off like that, but I know Leo is going to want to beat my ass when he finds out I just left Marty Man’s show in a rage.

I’d do it again, too, especially with the look of panic and sadness that was written all over Harper’s face when the asshole read the bigger asshole's statement on live television. I wanted to punch Marty when he first brought up her dating someone else recently, but I also knew there was a distinct possibility this would happen despite the network having sent over their questions previously and Leo approving them.

After Stella and Riggs brought all of their dirty laundry to light when they got back together, the press has been more interested in our band than ever, digging into everyone’s history to try and find some kind of misdeed, something that doesn’t match or line up with whatever story we’re selling.

But I stupidly didn’t expect the cannon to be aimed at my wife.

“Wes—” Harper starts, then stumbles as I move quickly to the greenroom. I catch her, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady, my fingers digging into her side protectively as we continue to move on a mission.

I need to get out of the eyes of everyone around us.

I need to get Harper alone.

“Not here,” I growl.

“What?”

“We’re not talking here,” I say through gritted teeth before swinging open the door to the greenroom where Harper’s things are and slamming it closed behind us. She turns to look at me as I lock the door, her hands on her hips with irritation. I’d find it cute if I wasn’t so fired up.

“Wes, what was that?”

“What was what?” I move through the room, grabbing the few things she used to touch up her makeup and tossing them into her bag before zipping it shut and moving to her clothes neatly folded on a chair, tossing those into the larger tote she brought.

“Wes, stop. I’m talking to you. You’re freaking me out.”

My entire body stills with her request, my shoulders lifting and falling as I take in a deep breath to try and calm myself and find some kind of inner peace despite my blood boiling.

How dare anyone speak to Harper like that? How dare anyone put that look on her face?

“I’m not going to let anyone talk about my wife like that,” I say slowly, my back still to her. “He crossed a line, and that means we were done there.”

“Wes, I’m not—” she starts, but before she can finish her sentence, I turn, dropping her bag to the floor before I take two wide strides toward her, backing her into the wall with my body. It might not be my best move, considering I’m purposely moving at a fucking snail's pace with her, but any pretense of control I’ve been putting up is long demolished.

“Don’t finish that fucking sentence, Harper,” I say, then put a hand to the bare skin on her neck, feeling the need to have my skin on hers in whatever small way I can.

Today was too much. Too fucking much . Two interviews, the necklace, the tattoo. What was I thinking? I’m going to scare her off before I can even start to convince her to give this—give me —a real chance.

But I can’t control myself around Harper, not anymore, not when the excuse of her having someone else on her arm is long gone. Not when she’s living in my house and wearing my ring, and sure as fuck not when she’s moaning my name as she makes herself come.

Not when I’ve tasted her, kissed her, held her.

“Wes—” she says, the word a whispered plea, not unlike the way it sounded through her bedroom door.

“You’re mine,” I growl, my body loosely holding her in place. She could easily escape and she’s choosing not to, choosing to stay and lift one of her own hands to my cheek like she somehow knows it might calm me.

It does.

I lean into her hand, my eyes closing for just a moment as I take a deep breath to try and center myself and continue. “You’re mine, Harper, so let me be the first to tell you. When you’re mine, I take care of you. That means no one talks to you like that, and no one questions you. It means I protect you. I know that’s a lot, Harper. I know you’re so stuck in the cage you created to keep yourself safe, but you need to know that’s who I am, and you need to know that’s who you are to me. That?” I move a hand, pointing it to the door and toward the mess we just left. “That will never happen again, not on my watch. And if it does, I’ll act the same way. I will always remove you from any situation where you feel uncomfortable, where you are made to feel less than. Do you understand?”

A long beat passes, the hand on her neck loosening so she can leave, her hand on my cheek never leaving at all. Her soft thumb shifts, grazing over the stubble that’s grown since last night when I shaved so I wouldn’t have to in the morning, like somehow, she’s finally understanding she can ground me, that she can center me with just a single touch.

“Yeah, Wes. I understand,” she says. “I understand, but it’s okay. I’m okay, Wes.”

I sigh with relief, the feeling all-consuming, before I take a small step closer, closing the barely existent gap between us until our bodies are pressed together.

“I want to kiss you,” I confess in a whisper, my lips brushing hers because I told her that I’d leave the choice in her hands. Something tells me when we cross the line of me kissing her whenever I want, I’ll never want to stop.

“Then do it, Wes,” she replies, and with those words, I throw all common sense away, and I kiss my wife.

It starts slow, a press of my lips to hers, tentative and careful, but she deepens it almost instantly, her hand going to the back of my head, twining in my hair and tugging me close, groaning as my lips open to hers.

Her tongue slides out to meet mine, tasting and tangling as the kiss deepens, my hand moving to her waist to pull her closer still. My other hand moves up to fist in her hair. She moans as I pull on it, tugging her to where I want her and taking control of the kiss. My knees bend, and I put my hand on the back of her thigh to lift her, pressing her against the wall and groaning into her mouth as my hardening cock presses into her center. Her hips start to move in time with the kiss, and soon she’s moaning, grinding against me.

My hand is moving up the back of her thigh, toward her ass, while my other hand is buried deep in the back of her hair, guiding her to move her lips along mine as I devour her.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, before a gentle voice speaks.

“Mr. and. Mrs Holden, I’m Lauren, the show manager, and I would just like to offer my sincerest apologies—” She starts rambling on about Marty’s behavior, but personally, I need her to apologize for interrupting me really kissing my wife for the first time and getting close to finally touching that ass I’ve been dreaming about for longer than I’d like to admit.

I groan as she breaks the kiss, but thankfully she doesn’t back away. I rest my head against hers, and she starts giggling quietly, the sweetest, most adorable sound I’ve ever heard.

“We should probably let her out of her misery,” Harper whispers with a smile as the woman continues to speak through the door.

“I’d rather stay here,” I admit. The hand on my neck tightens, and I look up at her again, a small smile on her lips.

“Maybe…” She bites her lip and takes a deep breath. “Maybe we can do this again later.”

“Do this?” I ask, smiling.

“Is making out off the table?”

A light blush burns on her cheeks, and my heart skips a beat like this is my first girlfriend instead of a woman I’m married to, but I smile wide.

“Definitely not,” I whisper, pressing my lips to hers once more before stepping back and straightening her dress. Then we gather the rest of her things and head out the door hand in hand.

My phone won’t stop buzzing, and, from the corner of my eye, I catch Harper continuing to hit ignore on her phone as we drive in silence.

“I’m not going to apologize,” I say under my breath, eyes on the road.

“What?”

“I’m not going to apologize. For leaving the set, for yelling at Marty. I’d do it again. Leo’s going to tell me I should make a formal apology, release a statement, blah blah blah.” I look to her quickly before looking back at the road. “I’m not doing it.” A moment passes in silence, and I expect her to argue, to tell me I have to, but, as tends to be her way, Harper surprises me.

“You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t?”

“No. It’s good, you know, for the image. It seems more…real.”

I groan at her words and the fact that this still isn’t penetrating her shell, that she still thinks this is nothing but some kind of arrangement, that?—

“Even if it’s becoming something more,” she adds.

I smile then, looking at her, and see she’s looking at me, a shy smile on her lips, a pink blush to her cheeks.

“Good to hear, baby,” I say. My phone buzzes again, and I hit ignore before a text pops up on the car’s screen.

LEO: ANSWER ME NOW, ASSHOLE.

I sigh. “But I am going to have to go to Leo’s office and talk him off a ledge,” I say, reaching over and squeezing her knee. Her small, soft hand covers mine, and she gives me a reassuring squeeze back. “I’m going to drop you off at home and head over there.”

“That’s fine,” she says, “The girls are going to want a full update anyway.”

I smile at that, at Harper giving Jules and Ava a full rundown of the chaos of our morning, and I’m beyond grateful that Jaime told me Ava is fully on team Harper and Wes .

“Stay home until I have an idea of how we should handle this from Leo,” I tell her a few minutes later as I unlock the front door and walk her inside. Even though my phone keeps buzzing and Leo is probably having a heart attack at this point, I need to make sure Harper is okay and gets inside safely. “I don’t want you in an uncomfortable position with paparazzi hounding you.”

There’s no one around, the scavengers stuck behind the gate, but this is all new for Harper. I don’t want her getting overwhelmed by the press and thinking this is too much for her before I fully get past her walls.

“Wes?” she asks once I close the door behind us and turn to her, staring for a few moments before she breaks the silence.

“Yeah, baby?” I step into her space gently, a hand moving to her jaw and my thumb stroking along her cheek.

“I, uh. I’m starting to get it. Me being yours.” She licks her lips and closes the gap between us, putting a hand to my neck. “And you being mine,” she says low.

“Yeah? Does that mean you’re going to stop giving me such a hard time?” She smiles, the look teasing and devious at the same time.

“Probably not.” I let out a small laugh and wrap an arm around her waist.

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.” Her fingers play with the hair at the nape of my neck.

“You should probably go, before Leo shows up at the house on a rampage.” She smiles wide, and I like this, this joking between us, the freeness. “But kiss me before you go.”

That last sentence is said in a whisper, that blush on her cheeks deepening, and I grin before doing just that, my hand on her jaw, tipping her face up to me and pressing my lips to hers gently, holding it there for not nearly long enough before breaking the kiss and stepping back before I get lost in it.

I can’t do that right now, not when I have shit to do, not when there is the temptation of no one watching and a dozen beds nearby. Instead, I use the hand on her cheek to push her hair over her shoulders and center the W necklace around her neck, stealing time I don’t really have but desperately want before stepping back.

“Lock this behind me,” I order as I open the door, looking at my wife standing exactly where I left her, still dazed and dreamy-eyed.

“Okay, honey,” she whispers, and then I give her one last smile before I close the door, knowing if I don’t leave now, I never will. And even though I know I’m going to Leo’s office to get my ass reamed, I smile the whole way there because my wife is finally willing to give this a chance.