19. Willa
Chapter nineteen
Willa
N ick slinks toward me, pressing my body flush against the back of the door. Trailing his nose down my cheek, Nick breathes me in. His lips sprinkle light kisses along my jaw, settling on that sensitive spot under my ear. I purr under his touch and arch my back.
Wearing only a plush robe, my fingers grasp the belt and gently tug, opening the robe to reveal my naked body.
Nick doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. The expression on his face, like he's just witnessed something miraculous and holy, says everything.
He makes me feel beautiful and worthy. I blossom under his attention.
I feel nothing but giddy anticipation. I cannot wait for his hands to coast along the lines of my body.
For his touch to imprint itself upon me.
For him to acquaint himself with every square inch of my body again, inside and out.
For him to use and abuse me until every last drop of pleasure has been wrung from me.
And then for him to do it all over again.
My fingers tremble as I slip the buttons of his shirt out of their buttonholes and then I slide the shirt off his shoulders. Dropping my forehead to his chest, I place a kiss along his clavicle. Nick's arms wrap around me, pulling me to him.
He drops his lips upon mine, kissing me.
It starts softly but quickly becomes fierce and demanding.
His tongue invades my mouth, plundering me, leaving me gasping for more.
Nick's hand threads through my hair, knotting it tightly in his fingers as he pulls my head back.
The delicious zip of pain mixed with pleasure has me hotter than a livewire as electricity sizzles between us.
He wraps one hand around both of my wrists and raises our conjoined hands above my head, so that I can’t touch him.
With his free hand, he touches and teases my peaked nipples before moving to cup my mound.
I tilt my hips, begging him for more. I need him to fill me, with his fingers, his tongue, his cock.
Rubbing my thighs together, my arousal smears between my legs.
I haven't felt this wanton level of lust and desire in years. I feel free. Alive. All that matters in this moment is my pursuit of bodily pleasure. Every other worry or fear is erased.
I move to spread my legs apart, to widen my stance and invite him inside me, but I can't open my legs. They're stuck together. Panic sits on my chest as I wiggle and kick, but I cannot pry them apart.
As my attempts become more frantic, I roll over, tangled in the sheets, and awaken with a terrifying sense of paralysis flowing through me.
It was only a dream. A dream. Beautiful, yet utterly depressing.
I sit up and work to unwind the bedding from around my lower body. The sense of being trapped abates, and as my breathing slowly returns to normal, the fear is replaced with sadness.
The dream felt so real. I wanted it to be real.
I crave the way that Nick made me feel in the dream. I miss him so much.
In my waking hours, I've pushed Nick from my mind. I've kept myself busy, focusing on work and preparing for my next film, but my unconscious mind likes to bring out what I try to hide. This isn't the first dream I've had of Nick since he left me, and I'm sure it won't be the last.
Truthfully, I don't want it to be my last dream of him. Once I stop dreaming of him, our connection will end.
The next few days pass in a blur of activity as I prepare for my professional return to the film industry. I have mixed feelings about it. On one hand, it's better for my mental health to stay busy, but…I feel oddly disconnected from all the changes being made to my appearance.
My hair has been trimmed and colored and styled.
My body has been buffed and tanned.
My skin has been toned and masked.
My diet has been overhauled.
My exercise regimen has been restarted.
My wardrobe has been updated and tailored to fit my body perfectly.
I look like an entirely different person than I was a week ago. When I dropped in to see Max yesterday, he didn’t scream at me in fright, so I guess it’s good that I look more like my former self again.
In addition to work, I've had some personal business to attend to as well.
I put it off while traveling, but now that I'm back home, I wanted to get it over with.
I hate medical appointments because they're so anxiety-provoking, but I hate not having answers more.
On the recommendation of my doctor, I underwent a minor procedure three days ago.
Hopefully, the results will provide me with those long-awaited answers.
I’m leaving in two days for my European trip for the Princess Mila movie, so I’m staying in tonight, doing laundry and packing my bag.
I’m flying to Europe with the people from the studio, but I’m not returning with them.
I still have a few months off before filming starts, so I’m planning on kicking around Europe for a bit before returning to California.
My previous wanderlust took a serious hit after Nick left me, but I’m hoping that the beauty and history of Europe will jumpstart my desire to travel again.
Before long, I’ll probably be locked into another series of movie contracts, with no time off.
I should take advantage of my freedom while I can.
As I place a bikini atop my linen pants in my suitcase, my phone chimes. When I glance at the information that Max’s assistant texted me, I’m surprised to see my travel destination isn’t Monaco like I had assumed.
Claudia: 10 am on Wednesday! Driver will pick you up from your house and take you to the private airfield in Torrence. LA - NYC - BLG
BLG? Hmm, I guess we’re going to Belgium .
The major European cities have such old architecture and infrastructure that the average American moviegoer won’t be able to tell where in Europe the movie is shot.
Most likely, the decision to scout locations in Belgium, rather than Monaco, came down to money.
It's probably cheaper to film in Belgium .
After a quick check to see if Belgium’s weather is much different from Monaco’s, I continue my packing before heading to bed early.
I only met Hugh Benoit briefly over a Zoom call, so I want to make a good impression on him when I meet him in person.
While Max swears that I am Hugh’s first choice to play Princess Mila, nothing has been signed.
Hugh could spend the week with me in Belgium and realize that I’m all wrong for the part.
Until I have a signed contract in hand, I cannot assume the role is mine.
Part of me wonders if that's such a bad thing. Admittedly, I haven't been pushing for a formal offer because I'm still debating. Do I want this part? Do I want to let go of my dream of finding love and starting a family and a life away from Hollywood?
I chide myself for that way of thinking. It's not a decision that needs to be made now. I can take my career forward, one film at a time, and decide to quit or cut back later. There's no hurry to retire. Nor is there an impending deadline to start trying to conceive.
Though I suppose that may not be true.
My future, and the path I expect my personal life to take, may change when I receive the results of my medical test tomorrow.