Chapter 38 #2
She braces herself on her free arm to raise her body a little, aware Abigail can’t move her head much.
"Don’t close your eyes, okay?" she asks as she moves in and out of her. "I want you to look at me while you come."
Abigail tries to nod, but her face twists in pain that quickly dissolves into the pleasure spreading through her belly, making her shake.
"Tay..." she says, but her voice breaks into a moan she can’t control.
"Say it again," Taylor asks, picking up the pace.
"Taylor," Abigail repeats, on the verge of coming.
"Not like that." Taylor stops.
Abigail looks at her, confused at first, but she immediately understands Taylor liked that shortened version of her name.
"Tay," she whispers, staring at her.
"And Abby," she finishes, resuming the motion until Abigail can’t take it.
She comes with her gaze locked on Taylor as if she’s the only thing anchoring her to reality while her body, out of control and trembling, shakes with a string of spasms that seem endless.
Taylor withdraws her fingers very slowly when Abigail lets out a final sigh and goes still, then moves up beside her to run her fingers over her neck with great care.
"Does it hurt a lot?"
"It’s easing," Abigail murmurs softly.
"You’re a terrible liar."
Abigail smiles and puts her own fingers on the spot that cracked under Taylor’s teeth. It doesn’t hurt when she touches it, but she figures the spasm is there, and she appreciates Taylor tucking a couple of pillows behind her and helping her sit up with her back supported.
"Come here," Abigail says calmly, pointing to her outstretched thighs so Taylor will sit on them.
The singer obeys and straddles her, looking at Abigail with her hands clasped in her lap.
"Is it time to talk?" Taylor asks, suddenly nervous.
"Yes, it’s time to talk," Abigail confirms, very serious.
"Okay."
Taylor’s eyes open with anticipation, and Abigail straightens as much as she can, knowing she’s the one who needs to speak first.
"Tell me what you want me to be for you, Taylor," she says suddenly. "What you need me to give you."
Taylor blinks, surprised by the question and by how direct Abigail is being.
"Do I have to spell that out for you?" Taylor asks, brushing her hair off her face.
"I’m a bit confused in that regard, so I’d appreciate it," Abigail admits.
Taylor nods and takes a breath as she organizes her thoughts, resting her hands on Abigail’s chest.
"Okay. I just want you to be yourself when you’re with me.
I don’t want that perfect, controlled version you show everyone else.
I want the woman who cries when she’s alone, who gets scared and hides, who laughs when she thinks no one’s watching," she explains, and Abigail feels something cracking inside as she listens.
"I want you to let me take care of you when those awful neck pains hit. I want you to tell me things about your life, to talk to me about your sister, your parents, and your childhood, and to know everything you like to do when you’re not working.
I want to wake up with you and for it not to be weird afterward, Abby—for us not to have to pretend nothing happened between us. "
Abigail can’t breathe easily. The tremors return to her body and she stiffens again, but Taylor places a hand at the center of her chest and smiles at her.
"I want you to trust me," she continues, keeping her hand on Abigail, feeling her heart hammer against her ribs. "Let me be with you when things get complicated without pushing me away like I’m a nuisance. You don’t have to be perfect with me; it’s enough that you’re human. That’s what I want and need from you."
Abigail swallows and lays a hand over Taylor’s on her chest. She needs a few seconds to steady herself and process what she’s heard, and to admit that everything Taylor just described is exactly what she’s always needed and never dared to ask for.
"I’ve never done this, Taylor. I don’t even know where to start," she admits, feeling completely lost.
"We’ve already started; we just have to keep going."
"You seem to have it all figured out," she says, dazed. "What about the age difference, the power, the experience...?" Abigail closes her eyes; she feels like a freight train is running her over right now.
"I’ve never felt lesser with you, Abby. You’ve never made me feel that way—neither because of power nor age. Different, yes, and complementary, but not inferior," the singer says.
"It’s fifteen years between us..."
"Fuck, Abby. Enough with the excuses already. Do you want to be with me or not?" Taylor snaps.
The question is like a hammer blow to the forehead. Abigail feels her chest constrict, but at the same time it makes her smile.
"Yes, baby, I do, but I’m terrified of hurting you."
"You already have," she murmurs. "And I have too. But here we are."
Abigail nods. It seems the age difference won’t be a problem, because Taylor seems more mature than she is in many ways.
Complementary.
That’s what Taylor said, and that’s what they are: two people who complete each other, only Abigail took longer to realize it.
"It’s true, here we are," Abigail confirms.
"I need you to promise you won’t run from me again," Taylor asks, running a finger from her sternum to her navel before looking her in the eye.
"I won’t run," Abigail vows, with that growl that sounds like a decree.
"I want you to promise me," Taylor insists.
Abigail smiles, a small curve at one corner of her mouth that makes her gaze shine, greener now.
"Okay. I promise."
Taylor gives her a crooked smile.
"So, is that everything?" the singer asks.
"I suppose this part is," Abigail replies.
"This part? What do you mean?"
"I’ve asked Liam to be your agent from now on," Abigail replies without flinching.
Taylor freezes.
"This is a joke, right?" she asks, moving her hand off her chest.
"No," she answers curtly, and Taylor knows immediately she isn’t lying.
"And why the hell did you do that?"
The singer tries to get out of bed, but Abigail grabs her hands and holds her firmly in place on top of her, grimacing from the effort.
"I can’t be both for you," Abigail explains. "Either I’m your agent or I’m your..."
The executive stops, unsure how to finish that sentence.
"Girlfriend?" Taylor suggests, lifting an eyebrow as she smiles, suddenly forgetting her anger.
Abigail looks at her. The word feels completely foreign—something that’s never been part of her vocabulary, much less her life—but a sudden tingle runs across her chest at the idea of being that for Taylor.
"I’ll be whatever you want me to be," she says, biting her lip under Taylor’s amused look.
"Then I want you to be my girlfriend," she fires back without hesitation.
"All right," Abigail agrees. "I’ll be your girlfriend and Liam will be your agent. Now promise me you’ll take his advice the way you’ve taken mine."
Taylor feels a huge sadness at the idea of not having Abigail as her agent.
To her, she’s her person. Abigail put her where she is, trusted her from the start, guided her without imposing her own judgment, and never let anyone try to change her style or essence.
She feels like she’s losing something important, but gaining something that matters even more.
She chooses Abigail Stone, the flesh-and-blood woman, not the ruthless executive capable of scaring fear itself.
"You trust him, and I trust you, so I’ll do what Liam tells me. I promise," Taylor replies.
Abigail nods and bites her tongue, looking away when she feels her eyes burn.
It’s very hard for her to choose, too. Being an agent is the only thing she knows how to do—she controls it, she’s good at it, it gives her life meaning, and she loves it above anything else.
She’s never been anyone’s girlfriend, but she wants to be Taylor’s, because she’s in love with the singer; that’s the only thing that explains why she’s willing to give up something so important to her.
"I meant what I said earlier," Taylor whispers, holding Abigail’s face by the chin.
Abigail tries to resist, to hide those damp eyes of hers, but her neck pain won’t let her, and this time it’s Taylor who runs her thumbs very slowly over her eyelids.
"What did you mean?" Abigail asks, trying to pull herself together.
"That I love you."
Abigail’s eyes go wide and her breath hitches; that response does nothing to calm the whirlwind of emotions she’s experiencing. Taylor smiles at her.
"Easy, I don’t need you to say it. You’ll say it when you’re ready, and if you never are, that’s okay. I know you love me too, because you show me by doing things like giving up representing me," she adds, kissing her on the cheek.
Abigail goes very still, so dazed she looks at her and can’t even see her.
"Can I get you something for your neck?" Taylor asks, knowing she needs a little space.
"Yes," Abigail whispers, and she closes her eyes as Taylor leaves the room.
She stays like that for a time she can’t define, letting her pulse settle and everything inside her return to its place. She only opens her eyes when she feels the mattress dip beside her.
"Here," Taylor says, handing her a pill and a glass of water.
"Do we need to set rules?" Abigail asks when Taylor settles next to her.
"Rules?"
"Yeah, for when we’re at the office or public events, things like that," Abigail says.
Taylor sits on her legs again.
"Like hell," she snaps, very serious, and Abigail’s eyebrows rise. "I told you, I love you. And I’m not hiding you anywhere. You’re my girlfriend and I want everyone to know it."
Abigail blinks, feeling vertigo sweep through her body.
"You’re asking a lot of me in one night," Abigail says, stifling a yawn.
"I haven’t asked for anything that isn’t fair," Taylor replies.
"I suppose not."
"Can I ask one more thing?" she asks, leaning to her ear.
The executive sighs and places a hand on her back.
"Try me. You might get lucky; I seem to be very accommodating tonight."
Taylor lets out a little laugh, and her warm breath sends a shiver down Abigail’s spine.
"Stay the night with me. You can’t throw me out here, and I don’t want you to leave."
Taylor pulls back to look Abigail in the eye, waiting for an answer.
"Which side do you sleep on?"
Taylor’s smile spreads so wide it almost slips off her face.
"I don’t care—your choice," the singer replies.
"I can barely move, Taylor. If I choose, I’m staying right where I am," Abigail says.
"It’s a good spot. Let me help you," she says, removing the pillows from behind her so she can lie down.
Taylor curls up at her side, close but not wrapping herself around her so she won’t smother her.
Abigail has a hard time falling asleep. She’s never slept in anyone’s bed, doesn’t know how to share her space, and isn’t used to hearing a breath that isn’t her own, but she gets absorbed listening to Taylor’s until she finally falls asleep.