13. Paparazzi Pursuit
Istand on my tiptoes and pull open the cupboards hanging over the kitchen sink. Except for a cockroach that scurries into the darkest corner once I spy it, there’s nothing in there. I open another cabinet, then the one beside the dishwasher. Nothing there either.
“Don’t look so surprised.”
I jump and turn around, my heart already banging in my chest. I know who it is. How could I not? We’ve lived together for the past week, and for the last three days—I swallow hard in almost-embarrassment—we’ve been fucking nonstop.
Like, literally all the time. The kind of continuous sex that leaves my vagina sore and the insides of my thighs aching, but also the kind that I can’t do without. We’ve done it in bed, on the kitchen counter, in the lake, on the bank of the lake again, on the kitchen table, on the ground, up against the walls . . .
It’s more sex than I’ve ever had. And it also feels better than anything else I’ve done my whole life.
Blake is shirtless, and even now, my mouth goes dry when I see his broad, hairless chest spread out like a smooth canvas in front of me. I look down at my body, clothed in one of his shirts, which is so large that the cuffs stop inches below the tips of my fingers.
“You won’t find anything there. Obviously.” His gaze is dark and expressionless, as usual. Nothing about the way he speaks to me or looks at me has changed. Except for when he’s thrusting into me and the tight way he holds me, I could sometimes be fooled into thinking that he still doesn’t want me around.
Maybe he really is incapable of arranging his face into a smile.
“We’ve run through all our supplies. After we finished that last bit of Nutella . . .”
There’s a glimmer in his eyes that tells me he’s thinking the same thing I am.
Last night, just hours ago, I walked up to Blake while he was reading in bed. He put his book down and watched me as I smeared the chocolate spread over my nipples. He pounced at me like an angry lion.
Spending time with Blake emboldens me to try things I would have never considered with Ben, not even in the wildest of my daydreams. I love discovering this new version of myself. Yet, fully embracing my new identity will take some time.
“We’ve got to go into town, then,” I say, kicking the cupboard beside the dishwasher shut.
Blake’s eyes narrow. “I,” he corrects. “I have to go into town. But then I’d have to leave you for half an hour, and I really don’t want to do that right now.” He walks up to me and places his hands on my hips, pulling me into him and letting me feel his hardness.
I pull away, shaking my head. I’ve been mentally preparing for this conversation for days now.
“I don’t want to be locked up here all the time.”
“Well, I don’t want you to go into town and get into trouble. You celebrities always have a fan in every corner. All it takes is one stupid picture on the internet for everyone to figure out where you’ve been hiding.”
Is it my imagination, or is he starting to sound like he cares?
Definitely my imagination, I tell myself as I study his scowl. He does sound nicer, and he’s actually explaining his reasons rather than barking out an order. But days of amazing sex would mellow out any guy.
He pulls me in again, burying his face in my hair, then trailing a slow kiss down my neck.
I know where this is going.
“I’m not interested in hiding anymore.” Before Blake came out to the lake three days ago and sucked me into his world of pleasure, I had thoughts of going back. Despite the haze of the recent days, I took a moment to ponder my next steps.
I look up at him, trying to focus despite the distraction.
“In fact, I’m going to grant an interview soon. A tell-all interview, where I expose my dad for being the liar he is.”
I expect Blake to criticize my plan, maybe even call it dumb. Instead, he pulls back, looking impressed.
“You sure about that?” He frowns. “I think it’s a good idea, but it still means making an enemy out of him.”
I think back to the call we had a few days ago.
“He’s always been my enemy. I just didn’t realize it before.”
He gives me a kiss, then reluctantly lets me go.
“Fine.” He focuses on folding my cuffs over my wrists. “But what happens if a townie comes up to you and moves up your coming-out date? I’m assuming the last thing you want is to be seen skulking about in a small-town store while dressed like this?”
I try my hardest to not focus on the little tingles crawling up my spine from his touch. “It’s highly unlikely anyone would recognize me if I wear a good enough disguise. I just need a hat or something. We’ll be in and out of there quickly. I’m sick of letting my father dictate my life from afar.”
He doesn’t argue. “Let’s go, then.”
Ten minutes later, I slip into the passenger seat of Blake’s car. I changed into jeans and one of the T-shirts he bought for me. Blake is dressed in the shirt I just slipped out of and a pair of slacks. His gaze is focused on the road, but just being around him is enough to restrict my breathing.
So, I try to think of other things. Like the fact that, just a week ago, I was sitting in this seat as my life turned into a wreck around me. I should still be on my honeymoon now. Somewhere in a parallel universe, maybe a version of me is enduring the monotonous sex Ben offered, safe and sound in the delusion that everything is perfect.
In this universe, my life is messy, but I like it way better.
Mostly because of the man beside me.
“Here.” Blake jerks me out of my thoughts. I look up to see him pulling in front of a convenience store. We’ve barely been driving for five minutes.
“It’s no Whole Foods,” he says. “But it does have everything you could want.”
“I’m not complaining.”
We walk in and greet the bored cashier, who’s the only other person around. Blake picks up a basket and leads me to the food aisle, which is all the way in the back.
I feel almost giddy as I follow him. Being famous means forgoing a lot of simple pleasures, including shopping for vegetables. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed this until now. Standing in front of the pasta shelf, I’m almost shocked at the overwhelming variety.
“Are you going to make a choice?”
I look around at Blake, a small smile forming on my lips. “I don’t know if I remember how to . . . what I looked at to decide one brand over the other.” I realize I sound unbelievably entitled, but I’m glad I can be honest.
“Haven’t been grocery shopping in a while, I take it.” I’m relieved there’s no trace of mockery in his voice.
“Years,” I say. “In fact, the last memory I have of it was in a store exactly like this, near our old apartment. And I didn’t even shop. I only lurked around the book section and made out with my high school crush.”
I regret those words the moment I say them, but it’s too late. Blake’s eyes are already glimmering dangerously.
I should turn around, take a random box, and walk back into the view of the cashier, but I’m rooted to the spot, waiting as Blake closes the gap between us and bends his head over mine. My heart is banging in my chest.
“You know what I liked most about our first time?” he whispers.
Thinking of him swimming after me and pushing me to my hands and knees makes my pussy throb. That was my favorite part, and I still get tingles as I remember how he thrust into me.
“No,” I breathe.
He leans even closer, so he’s speaking directly into my ear. “Fucking you outdoors, knowing there was a possibility of someone seeing us.”
My heart rate speeds up even more. I’m motionless as he pulls me to him, his palms finding my ass and giving me a little squeeze.
“You like being watched.” My mouth is parched, and I force the words out in a croak. “Wouldn’t have thought.”
“Why?” He’s still unbearably close. “You like being watched.”
I rear back so fast I slam into the shelf of pastas. “No, I don’t.”
“You liked it when you touched yourself while sitting on my lap. And when you refused to cover yourself at the lake because you were hoping I’d lose control.”
I’m stunned into silence. Because there’s absolutely no way I can deny that, not when it’s a hundred percent true. He’s just pointed out something about me that I hadn’t realized before.
He crushes his mouth on mine, stealing whatever breath I’ve got in my lungs. I kiss him back, not caring about much else; our location, or how hard we’ve worked to stay hidden. I know it’s not going to happen, but already my mind is speeding with the possibilities, Blake turning me around and fucking me against the shelves of dried goods, the cashier looking at us with a mix of arousal and disdain.
Suddenly, a camera’s flash pierces through the dim light.
A shriek tears from my throat, and I instinctively recoil from Blake, my eyes darting toward the source of the intrusion. My heart sinks as my gaze lands on a hooded figure outside the store, peering in through the glass with an unsettling focus. The moment he is noticed, he retreats, leaps onto a nearby bike, and vanishes.
Paparazzi.
Blake’s response is primal, a roar of anger and protection. I’m frozen, guilt gnawing at me for exposing us, but Blake is already in motion, his instincts sharp. Grabbing my arm, he propels us into a sprint toward his jeep, my legs barely keeping pace. With a burst of adrenaline, we’re off, chasing the intruder with Blake at the wheel.
We close the gap swiftly. The man, realizing he’s being pursued, pedals with desperate energy, but Blake’s determination is fiercer. He issues another growl, the jeep surging forward, and within moments, we’re blocking the man’s escape.
In a flash, Blake is out and on the man, yanking him from the bike with a force that sends it clattering to the ground. The balding redhead with fear painted across his face meets Blake’s furious stare, realizing he’s been caught.
“Who the fuck are you?” Blake snarls at him. “How did you know where to find her?”
Stepping out of the car, I stand next to Blake, feeling frazzled. Yet, there’s a peculiar calm that washes over me, seeing his fury, knowing it’s all in my defense.
The man’s face mirrors the hue of his hair as he swallows hard. “I . . .”
“Out with it,” Blake demands, pulling him close enough to share breath. “Or I promise, your camera’s going to meet its maker.”
“Please,” the man stutters. “I was just . . . I recognized her and thought . . . maybe the photo could fetch something . . .”
“That’s gonna be a hard no.” With a forceful shove, Blake seizes the camera, pressing it back into the man’s hands. “Start deleting those photos now, unless you fancy me erasing you next.”
Under Blake’s watchful eye, the man hurriedly complies, showing the cleared camera as proof. Satisfied, Blake lets him go. The man mounts his bike and disappears. Back in the car, Blake’s concern is all over his face as he notices my state.
“You’re trembling.”
I swallow. I’m not just perturbed because of the man and the fact that I was almost discovered. Watching Blake defend me like that makes me feel . . . weird. Otherworldly.
Like I’m watching one of my own songs come to life.
I push those thoughts out of my mind. “You were right. I shouldn’t have come with you.”
“You couldn’t have known it was going to happen. I’m going to drive back to the store and you’re going to stay in the car while I get us some food.”
I nod, more confused than anything. Blake drives us back to the store while we remain in complete silence. Only when I see him disappear through the store’s doors do I start to ponder why I’m so confused.
I don’t care about the fact that someone almost released a picture of us to the entire world. I knew the risk when I decided to come.
Something else is bothering me.
Blake.
He comes back in a short while carrying two bags. He dumps them in the back seat. I catch a suspicious item peeking out.
“You got a cell phone?”
His lips are drawn in a thin line. “It’s for the best. Need to make sure that punk really doesn’t have the photo backed up or something.”
The silence is even more tense when we get back to the cabin. I’d expected today to go on like the past three days, where we divided our time between eating and lovemaking. Now Blake powers on the phone as I set about unpacking the groceries, my mind still a frazzled mess.
Why the hell am I so bothered about him being nice? Sure, I’ve had a rough childhood and I’ve never really felt true love, but that’s no reason to freak out.
Maybe I’m concerned about him being nice and protective, while also being a great lay.
Maybe I’m bothered about the fact that I’m now spending most of my days with someone who is shaping up to be the man of my dreams.
As an avid romantic, that’s about my worst nightmare. Especially since said man has completely sworn off romance many times in my presence.
The landline starts ringing, the shrill sound slicing through the quiet. Blake throws a dismissive look toward the clamorous intruder.
“Just leave it,” he mutters with a hint of irritation. “Likely just one of my friends.”
Yet, the ringing insists, its relentless, sharp trills cutting persistently through the still air, refusing to be silenced. By the tenth time, he’s stalking over and pressing the receiver to his ear.
“What?” he snaps.
I have no idea what the other person is saying, but I watch as the color drains from Blake’s face. He nods mutely and then replaces the receiver.
My heart is in my throat now. “What? Who was that?”
“My sister.” A vein pops in his forehead as he walks over to the new cellphone and powers it on. “She asked me to check X.”
“He released the pictures?”
“Not exactly.” Blake is pressing buttons on the phone at maximum speed. Finally, he looks up at me. “But someone else saw us. And they released a video.”