Chapter 38
Elle
Icome back from my hasty trip to the bathroom to clean myself up before gravity does its worst, and slide back into bed next to Josh. He’s lying on his side, head propped up on one elbow and a dopey, sated grin on his face that’s the most adorable sight ever.
He pulls me right in towards him, his hand doing strokes of my back as he kisses me languorously. But when he pulls away, there’s uncertainty on his face.
‘I don’t want to leave. Can I spend the night?’
I know I should tell him no. I know sleeping together is a whole other level of intimacy from, well, sleeping together. But I’m awash with happy hormones. Drugged up to the eyeballs on post-sex endorphins. And I can’t bear the idea of him slipping out of this bed and leaving me alone.
‘Okay,’ I tell him. ‘You can stay. What time do you want me to set the alarm for?’
He sighs. ‘Better make it six. I gotta hit the gym.’
I smirk. ‘The abs maintenance is real.’
‘You betcha. But I can make time for a re-run tomorrow night.’ He kisses the tip of my nose.
‘I can’t. I’m in London tomorrow evening. We’re recording Gordon Kay. It’s all kicking off.’
The publicity for the movie I made before this show, a futuristic, dystopian action movie called Hysteria, is ramping up big time as the movie is being released next week. My co-leads and I are due on Gordon Kay tonight. The show will be broadcast this Saturday.
If our shooting schedule for Grosvenor wasn’t gruelling enough, adding publicity commitments into the mix will really finish me off.
Obviously, we agreed all this with Azure before I signed up for Grosvenor, so my call-times have been carefully scheduled around my publicity requirements, but it’s still exhausting.
Not just physically, but mentally, too. I get so intensively involved in one character’s headspace that having to pull myself out of it and talk endlessly about a totally different production in a totally different genre is knackering.
Shooting is a bubble, and coming off set and going into town to do publicity is a harsh way of bursting that bubble.
Not to mention that shagging my gorgeous co-star and all the emotional and physical effort I expend on that is adding to the strain on my capacity. But since this thing with Josh is so fucking spectacular, I have every intention of making the juggling act work.
Still. I need to be careful. My body has a particularly vocal way of making its needs heard, and an even more vocal way of complaining if it doesn’t like the way I’m treating it, so I should pay heed and not take the piss.
I’m actually amazed I haven’t had more flare-ups while we’ve been shooting.
There’ve been plenty of the usual early morning upset stomachs, but if I’m kicking Josh out at six, I should be fine until then.
Other than those, my body has been amazingly resilient.
Sleeping with Josh is heavenly. I forgot how heavenly. Maybe it’s just sleeping with another human being, but I doubt it.
It’s him.
I wake up to pee in the middle of the night, and when I get back into bed he sighs in his sleep and rolls over and spoons me, tugging me right up against him as if he can’t be without me.
It’s absolutely lush. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against my back lulls me back into a deep, blissful sleep.
I’m even nice when his alarm call wakes us up at six. I run my hand up the taut, hairy forearm wrapped around my waist.
‘Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Time to go and admire yourself in the gym.’
He groans and buries his face in my neck. ‘Fuck. Maybe I can just stay here and we can do some cardio.’ His hand brushes my stomach suggestively, and all my nerve endings leap to attention. I slap it.
‘Go.’
He grumbles as he pulls himself away from me and gets out of bed. I roll over onto my back so I can ogle him as he dresses.
That big, golden body.
The things it does to me.
He pulls on his sweater and rakes his hand through his hair and I fangirl right there on the pillow. I positively swoon.
He comes and sits at the edge of my side of the bed as he puts his socks and trainers on, and I run my fingers lazily up his back. When he’s done, he twists his body around to me. His gorgeous face is serious as he brushes my hair off my face.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I want you to know something. I know we haven’t talked much about—our past. But I want you to know, I’m not gonna let you slip away again, Elle. Okay?’
I’m not sure what his reason for saying that to me is. He’s probably trying to give me something he thinks I need, but right here and now, it pops my fucking bubble so quickly I can hardly breathe. My chest tightens and my peripheral vision goes black. I pull myself up onto my elbows.
‘Seriously? Are we talking about the same situation here?’
‘What?’ He has the gall to look genuinely taken aback.
‘Don’t be disingenuous with me, Josh.’
‘Don’t get mad and go into full dictionary mode on me, Elle.’ He stands up.
‘You didn’t let me slip away. That would suggest an element of carelessness, like you weren’t paying attention and whoosh, I disappeared.
You dumped me. On fucking Twitter. And far worse than that, you ghosted me to the absolute extreme of the definition.
You invited me to your family home and then I never heard from you again.
You did something unspeakably cruel to me, so don’t fucking rewrite history.
For God’s sake, have the balls to man up and take responsibility. ’
His face is desolate, but I’m unmoved.
‘Baby, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a turn of phrase. I meant—I meant I’m gonna do better next time. I promise.’
‘You promised me we were going to go to Capri together, after you put me in that car outside your home and before you hung me out to dry. So forgive me if I think your promises are fucking worthless.’
I put my head in my hands. ‘Oh, God. Will I never learn? You slink into my bed with your hot body and your sweet words, and I should know you just do whatever the fuck you like. I can’t believe I had sex with you without a condom. I can’t believe I let you stay the night! I’m. So. Fucking. Stupid.’
‘Elle. Baby. Stop it! You don’t need to stress. Last night was awesome. I wanna be with you—that’s what I’m trying to tell you!’
I can’t even look at him. I’m furious with him, but I’m far more furious with myself. It’s déjà vu - he has me all sleepy and sexed-out and defenceless. Just the way he likes me. I’m not the wide-eyed ingenue he seduced five years ago.
I’m a star in my own right.
I call the shots.
Fool me once, shame on you, Josh Lander.
Fool me twice, definitely shame on me.
‘That may be, but I’m not in the mood to hear anything you have to say, Josh.’ I look up at him, but my tone is flat. Exhausted. ‘Just go. Okay?’