Chapter 25
Morning came far too quickly. I buried my face in the pillow, willing myself to fall back asleep and delay the day from starting. With Liv’s delectable, naked body pressed against my chest and my semi-hard erection nudging her ass, sleep unsurprisingly eluded me.
A better idea hit me when she shifted, teasing me in her sleep.
I let my fingers trail down her side, over her hip and between her legs. When I reached the apex of her thighs, I found her already wet, her body responding to my touch even in sleep.
A groan rumbled in my chest, my cock hardening further at the evidence of her desire.
I slid down the bed, gently pushing her onto her back and settling between her sprawled legs. She murmured something unintelligible, her brow furrowing adorably, but didn’t wake. Not yet.
I dipped my head, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. Her skin was like nectar under my lips, sweet and addictive. I trailed a path of open-mouthed kisses higher, higher, until I reached her needy pussy.
The first touch of my tongue against her slit had her gasping, her hips bucking up into my face. I pressed my elbows down on top of her thighs, holding her open and steady as I lapped at her, savouring her sleepy, uninhibited sounds.
Her fingers sank into my hair, her nails scraping deliciously against my scalp as she surfaced from sleep straight into red hot need. I doubled my efforts, focusing my attention on her clit, circling and flicking and sucking until her moans turned to cries, until her thighs started to shake and tremble around my ears.
“Lewis,” she gasped, my name a prayer and a plea on her lips. “Oh lord, don’t stop…”
As if anything in the known universe could tear me away from the heaven between her legs, the perfect satisfaction of bringing her closer and closer to the edge with every stroke of my tongue.
I slid two fingers into her tight, clenching heat, curling them just the way I knew would make her see stars. Her back bowed, her cry strangled and desperate as her orgasm crashed over her, her walls seizing and pulsing around my fingers.
I worked her through it, murmuring praise and endearments into her slick flesh, drawing out her pleasure until she was limp and boneless beneath me, spent and sated.
But I was far from done.
If I had my way, we wouldn’t leave this bed until dinner with the band.
I crawled up her body, fumbling for a condom from the pile we’d strewn over the bedside table in our rush last night. She watched me through heavy-lidded eyes, her smile lazy and content as I rolled the latex over my aching cock.
“Good morning,” I whispered, settling into the cradle of her hips, the head of my erection nudging against her still-fluttering entrance.
“Good morning, indeed.” She looped her arms around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss that was deep and filthy and perfect. “That was quite the wake-up call.”
“Oh, I’m not finished with you yet.” I punctuated the words with a slow, deliberate press of my hips, sheathing myself inside her inch by delicious inch.
Her breath caught, her nails digging into my shoulders as I stretched and filled her.
“But we were supposed to go to the market this morning.” She gasped when I hitched her legs higher around my waist, sinking deeper.
“What would you rather do, Liv?” I pulled out almost entirely before slamming back in, relishing her sharp gasp, the way her eyes rolled back. “Spend the morning wandering around stalls and trying fucking blueberry chutneys?” I set a deep, purposeful rhythm, each thrust angled to hit that spot inside her that made her mindless. “Or spend it in this bed, coming on my cock over and over again until you forget your own name?”
She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan, her fingers tangling in my hair as I mouthed at her neck, her collarbone. “Well, when you put it like that…”
I grinned against her skin, nipping at her pulse point. “That’s what I thought.”
And then there were no more words. There was only the slap of skin on skin. The mingled sounds of our pleasure. The urgent, perfect slide of our bodies as I made good on my promise, wringing climax after shuddering climax from her until she was an incoherent, trembling mess beneath me, and my own release barrelled through me like a freight train, whiting out my vision and short-circuiting my higher brain functions.
* * *
The Eugene Saturday Market was in full swing by the time we arrived, the stalls and booths packed with locals and tourists alike. The smell of cooking food and handcrafted candles filled the air. The sounds of laughter, haggling and street musicians surrounded us.
It should have been idyllic, the perfect summer day. But with every step we took, every friendly smile aimed our way, tension wound tighter and tighter inside of me, the anxiety buzzing like angry hornets in my blood.
I tried to shake it off, tried to focus on Liv’s sunny enthusiasm as she pulled me from stall to stall, exclaiming over handmade jewellery and quirky art prints. But my eyes kept darting to the crowds around us with suspicion.
“Ooh, look at these!” Liv tugged me towards a stall draped in a rainbow of woven scarves, her eyes alight with excitement. She fingered a gauzy blue one shot through with metallic thread, holding it up to catch the light. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
I made an appreciative noise, but I barely glanced at it. My eyes were fixed on her.
“What about this one?” She held up a black scarf, the fabric smooth and dark. “It matches your aesthetic, Mr Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”
I laughed, some of the tension leaking from my shoulders. “Excuse you, I think you mean Mr Tall, Dark, and Devastatingly Handsome.”
“Eh, it’s a fine line.” She grinned, tossing the buttery-soft scarf around my neck and using it to tug me closer. “Luckily, I happen to love brooding.”
I dipped my head, brushing a kiss across her smiling mouth. I kept it brief, chaste. If I lingered, if I let myself sink into her the way I was dying to, I’d end up getting us arrested for public indecency and definitely draw the press to us.
“I love you,” I murmured against her lips, too low for anyone but her to hear. “And I love that you put up with my broody ass.”
“Mmm, I more than put up with it. I quite enjoy your ass.” She nipped at my bottom lip, soothing the sting with her tongue.
Heat bloomed low in my gut, a surge of want so intense it nearly brought me to my knees. Christ, the things this woman did to me. The way she could undo me with a word, a touch, a kiss.
I wanted nothing more than to haul her against me, to lose myself in her right there in the middle of the market. Consequences be damned.
But I’d never do it.
Even after all my promises, my shoulders tensed and the nape of my neck itched with the phantom touch of eyes.
“Behave,” I gritted out, even as my hands flexed on her hips, itching to drag her closer. “We’re supposed to be keeping things G-rated, remember?”
At the reminder, Liv rolled her eyes, taking a pointed step back. “Please. As if you’ve ever cared about ratings.”
I tensed, my fingers clenching around hers as my gaze darted from stall to stall. Did that woman in the floppy sun hat seem a little too focused on her phone? Was that teenager with The Brightside t-shirt pointing us out to his friend?
Paranoia crawled up my spine like icy fingers, a clammy, clawing dread that made it hard to breathe. Everywhere I looked, every face in the crowd, every fucking phone winking in the sun… they all felt like a threat. Like a ticking time bomb just waiting to blow my world apart.
On some level, I knew I was being irrational. Knew, logically, that not every glance in our direction was nefarious, not every shutter click spelled doom. But logic had no place in the fevered, panicked mess of my mind.
The fear was a living thing inside me, wrapping around my lungs, my heart. It whispered that this was all too good to be true. That our bubble of happiness was nothing more than a glass globe, waiting for the press to shatter it.
I shook my head, trying physically to dislodge the paranoia. They were just people, for fuck’s sake. Normal, everyday people going about their normal, everyday lives. Not every smartphone was a weapon lying in wait, not every glance in our direction was accompanied by dollar signs and delusions of tabloid fame.
But the fear wouldn’t abate. It sank its claws deeper.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all a dream. A beautiful, fragile bubble just waiting for the first pinprick of reality to burst it.
Liv’s hand on my arm startled me out of my rapidly swirling thoughts. “Hey. Where’d you go just then?”
“Just got distracted for a second.” I straightened my shoulders and pasted on my best attempt at a carefree grin. “So, those scarves. You want to get them? Start our collection of tour souvenirs?”
She narrowed her eyes like she wasn’t buying the subject change for a second. But she allowed it and I fell a little more in love with her.
“Definitely. And we have to find something for the rest of the band. And for our families!”
The click of a camera shutter was like a gunshot, freezing me in place. My head snapped up, a coldness seeping into my bones that had nothing to do with the weak Oregon sunshine.
I stepped in front of Liv, shielding her from the camera.
“Lewis, what—” Liv started, but I was already moving, my hand finding hers and tugging her away from the stall, away from the prying eyes.
I bolted, dragging Liv behind me as I wove through the throngs of shoppers, putting as much distance as I could between us and that damning phone camera.
Anderson hung back, probably dealing with the photo.
But even as I walked faster, my legs eating up the ground in long, tense strides… I knew there was no escaping this. Not really.
Because the worst of it, the part that made my lungs seize up and my blood turn to ice in my veins…
It wasn’t the threat of discovery, the awfulness of having our most private moments splashed across Page Six.
It was the stark betrayal that flashed across Liv’s face when I blocked her from that godforsaken camera.
We made it to the far edge of the market before Liv finally dug in her heels and breathlessly demanded that I stop. I stumbled to a halt, my chest heaving, an apology on the tip of my tongue.
“What the fuck was that?”
I scraped a hand through my hair, trying to force air past the bands constricting my lungs. “There was… a camera… ”
Understanding dawned on her face, chased by something fiercer.
“You panicked.” It wasn’t a question.
“I– Yeah. I fucking panicked.” All the air left my lungs in a rush, leaving me feeling hollowed out. Empty. “You don’t understand what it’s like, living under that kind of scrutiny.”
Her eyes flashed, anger and hurt warring in their green depths. “Don’t I?”
She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield. “I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to date you. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, that one day our every move would be dissected and splashed across the tabloids.” Her jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in her cheek. “But I thought we were in this together.”
“I’m trying. I’m fucking trying, okay? But it’s not a switch I can just flip. This fear has been hardwired into me since before I even knew your name… it doesn’t just disappear because I want it to.”
Liv’s expression softened, the anger draining away to leave something sadder, more resigned in its wake. She stepped closer, laying a gentle hand on my arm.
“I know you’re trying.” Her thumb rubbed soothing circles into my skin, her touch an anchor in the maelstrom of my emotions. “But this level of reaction, it”s not healthy. It’s not sustainable.”
I flinched, shame and defensive pride welling up in equal measure. I wanted to pull away, to insist that I was fine, that I could handle this on my own. But the plea in her eyes, the quiet desperation… it cut through the bullshit, through the bravado.
“You need to talk to someone,” she said softly, her gaze holding mine. “A professional. Someone who can give you the tools to deal with this, to work through it in a healthy way.”
I stared at her. “What, like a shrink? Are you serious?”
She nodded, worrying at her bottom lip. “I think it’s time for you to face these demons head-on, with someone who actually knows what the fuck they’re doing.”
A bark of laughter ripped from my throat, too sharp and brittle to be mistaken for humour. “Right. Because that’s just what I need. Some head doctor rummaging around in my fucked up psyche, picking apart all the broken bits.”
I could see the headlines already—‘The Brightside Bassist Seeks Help for Secret Struggle.’
They’d paint me as some kind of unstable head case, too fucked up to handle the pressures of fame.
And what would that do to the band?
No. It was too big a risk. My baggage was mine to carry. Liv was shaking her head, face pinched with a disappointment that cut straight through me.
“I can’t do this. I can’t keep watching you tear yourself apart because you’re too fucking stubborn to admit you need help.”
And with that, she walked away. Slipped into the crowd and disappeared, leaving me standing there. Alone.