12
12
“Is that paparazzi?” John says as we pull up to my apartment building.
Three men are standing by the entrance to the parking garage with their cameras at the ready. “We can’t avoid them so try to get past as quick as you can.”
“It’s not like we haven’t been seen together before anyway.”
“Ugh.” I throw my head back against the seat. “It’s so late. This is definitely gonna look some type of way, us arriving at my place together.”
“They’ll just say we’re back together. And maybe it will be good once our song is announced?” John offers as their cameras flash, the guys running up to the car as John swerves into the underground garage. I notice the content look on his face, not allowing them to get a bad picture of him.
Even though I hold my purse up in front of my face, I already know it won’t matter. The paparazzi are relentless. They know I live in this building, and they’ll recognize John’s car. I give it two hours before these photos are circulating online with rumors we’re back together.
Weirdly, that doesn’t bother me as much as it should.
“I guess you’re coming upstairs,” I say once we’re parked in the garage and out of sight of any cameras.
“Do you want me to?”
I roll my eyes playfully. “Don’t pretend that wasn’t your plan.”
He chuckles but doesn’t deny it.
We ride the elevator up to my apartment, stepping inside and tossing our keys on the kitchen island.
“Want a drink?” I ask.
“No, thanks. I’ve gotta drive home.” There’s a beat of silence where he tests me with his eyes, as if waiting for me to protest. So I play him at his own game.
“Oh, I have water. Soda. Doesn’t have to be alcohol.”
His face drops for a second. Immediately, I laugh.
“If you want to stay over, you can use the guest room. And I kind of wouldn’t mind the company tonight. You know I hate being alone after parties.”
“Almost as much as you hate parties.” He smiles and I nod in agreement.
John double- then triple-checks the locks on my door. He slides an arm around my shoulder and glances at his watch. “I’ll stay. Want me to run you a bath with the essential oils you like before bed?”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say with a yawn.
“I know,” John says. “But I’m going to.”
He doesn’t wait for me to protest and walks into my bedroom, making the decision for me. I love that about him, how he takes control of situations when he knows I want something but I won’t say it. Even though it’s only been one night, every minute I spend with him like this, it becomes easier to slip right back into our old ways.
Feeling exhausted now that we’re back in my safe space, I drink a tall glass of cold water before heading into my room. Through the bathroom door I can see John’s lit my candles, and the water running into the tub creates a floral-scented steam that mists into my room.
Why can’t it be like this all the time?
“It’s ready for you,” he says gently. I’m wrapped in a fluffy white towel and ready for a half hour of relaxation. Maybe a whole night.
“Thanks, John.”
His fingers move to my hair, gently twisting the strands, instantly making any tension fade. He knows me so well.
“It’s the least I can do,” he says, and I get the feeling he’s hinting at all the shit with Riley and his tantrum in the studio without wanting to say it outright. He apologized earlier, so I’m not going to bring it up right now.
I reach for my makeup wipes on the counter and swipe one across my eyelid. I don’t have much on but want a clean face before I get into the tub. I yawn again, exhausted. John leans over and plucks another wipe out of the pack, and I laugh.
“Do you even know what to do with that?” I look at him in the mirror as I lift myself to sit on the countertop, both of us laughing now.
He looks at it like it’s from another planet, but nods. “I’m guessing you just, like, wipe it on your face? I’ve seen you do it a million times, P. Trust me, I’m a fast learner,” he playfully says.
He does a decent job and my stomach hurts from laughing at his sweet attempt. I stand up and stretch; even my body is exhausted. Our stares linger for a beat too long, but instead of striking the match, I let it all go and step past him.
“Let me know if you need anything,” he says, dusting his hand across my waist when we meet in the doorway. It sets something tingling inside me. Something impossible to ignore. “I’ll just be out here, okay? To give you some space.”
“John . . .” I go to say, but the words get lost on their way out.
“Yeah, P.?” he asks, eyes lit up with a spark of hope. I feel that same hope deep inside of me.
I guess it’s been hot and cold with us lately. Maybe that’s the way we are now. Not every relationship’s smooth sailing and consistent. And so what; maybe we hit a rough patch—all couples go through that. Maybe these problems are helping us learn each other better, and sticking through the ups and downs is our way of igniting the spark between us over and over again. Maybe we shouldn’t call it quits just yet. I know him better than anyone; I know that under his casual and sometimes cold fa?ade, there’s a caring, soft man who loves me.
“I want you to stay,” I croak, but that’s all I say. “In here, I mean.”
As I slide the towel off and step into the tub, I hear his breath hitch behind me, and then his footsteps cross the tile as he comes to sit on the edge of the bath.
“Want me to wash your hair?” he murmurs, already reaching out to run his fingers through each soft strand.
“Mmm, please,” I say, tilting my head back, relaxing my body in the water.
Gently, using my sandalwood shampoo, John works a lather into my hair with his strong hands, massaging my head and moving down to my neck and shoulders. Every touch feels like heaven. It makes me crave him even more. I try to push the feeling aside and just enjoy the sensation, but the longer I spend in the tub, the hotter the energy grows.
“That’s so nice.”
John doesn’t speak, just lets me relax in total bliss. His hands continue their massage even after he’s done with washing my hair. I reach up to his wrist, intertwining my fingers with his. The water sways, and John’s eyes roam my body under the water lustily, but he doesn’t make a move. There’s just something about his restraint and the hazy look in his eyes that turns me on.
“I missed you, baby,” he whispers as his other hand kneads my shoulders, then lower. I hold my breath as his palms slide over the center of my chest, and he repositions himself on the edge of the tub so he can reach better.
“I missed you too,” I breathe as his hand slides under the water, fingers running a smooth path along my belly, getting closer to the one place that aches for his touch. “John . . .” His name comes out as a moan when he finally finds me as my thighs part. “Fuck.”
“I missed you so much,” he murmurs, voice hot and husky in my ear as he leans forward to pull my earlobe between his teeth. The sensation makes every hair stand on end, increasing the feeling between my legs as his fingers dip inside. I don’t really hear his words, I’m so overcome by his actions.
“Does that feel good, baby?” he rumbles in my ear, eyes on me and nowhere else as he moves faster and faster, taking me to the edge.
I grip his arm, throwing my head back, begging him not to stop. John kisses my neck, whispering magic in my ear—all my favorite things, which he’s done to me so many times before. He knows me. It’s like my body was made for him. And after he brings me to climax and makes me see glittering stars, I can focus on only one thing: him.
In a frenzy, lips and bodies glued together, we trip backward into the bedroom, removing John’s clothes as we go. He yanks his shirt over his head and I help unbuckle his belt, feeling him hard already. I need to have him closer. He pushes me onto the bed, moving above me and kissing his way from my thighs up to my mouth, knotting his tongue with mine and groaning my name as if he can’t get enough of saying it.
“Tell me you need me.” I gasp as he positions himself between my legs.
“Fuckin’ always. I always need you. Always have and always will,” he replies, burying his face in the crook of my neck and releasing a groan that makes me lose my damn mind.
It’s been so long since I was last with him that I didn’t realize what I was missing, but as John moves above me and the temperature builds, the sheets tangled around us and our bodies finding new angles to explore each other from, I start to remember what we are.
Each other’s.
The glare of the sun streaming in through my bedroom is warm on my skin as the buzzing of my phone wakes me up. Win’s name flashes on the screen and I contemplate whether or not to answer. It could be about work, but having John here, it doesn’t feel right to answer, so I ignore the call and roll over in the thick blanket. John isn’t in the bed, which makes me worry at first. What if last night was a fluke? A one-night stand.
As I climb out of bed to see if John dipped or not, a text comes in from Win.
Win: Morning, Princess, sorry to text so early, I wanted to talk to you about upping your security
So it is about business. Why did I think otherwise? Getting back under the sheets I return his FaceTime, feeling silly that I thought there was something wrong with answering his call just because John spent the night.
“Hey, Win.”
He looks bemused to see my camera’s off but doesn’t question it. “Are you okay?”
I turn the volume down, shifting up a little in bed. “Yeah, I’m good,” I half whisper, my voice still waking up. “So great seeing you the other day.”
“Always a pleasure,” Win says. “I heard you’ll be at Coachella next week and wanted to talk logistics really quick if you have time.”
“I have a few minutes.” I listen for any noises coming from the living room or kitchen. Did John really leave? “Yes, I’ll be there.”
“I also heard you had an issue with a possible stalker when you had the house in Malibu. Have there been any other incidents?”
“Thankfully not,” I say, shuddering as I think about my stalker still on the loose out there somewhere.
“I was calling to offer you my security team, especially for Coachella. My guys are the best.”
“Thanks, Win,” I say genuinely. “But Kimi and Wayne hired a couple of guys already. They’re downstairs at my place now, and yeah, they’ll come with us to Coachella. It’s weird to have security full-time since I don’t really need that normally day-to-day, but after the incident it has been making me feel better about things.”
“Actually, Princess, those are my guys. I fired the others and already talked to Kimi and Wayne. I’m not taking no for an answer. Especially when it comes to you,” Win says. It’s barely eight o’clock but he’s already in full business attire, lounging in a leather office chair in some kind of boardroom. “As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” I say, noticing how much my voice sounds like I just woke up.
“Princess, is your camera broken?” Win sounds serious.
I laugh awkwardly, running my fingers quickly through my knotted hair to make it look less like I just had sex. “Oh, no, it’s fine. Sorry, I’m looking kinda crazy right now.”
There’s a pause. Win looks down, chuckling as realization dawns. “You’re still in bed, aren’t you?”
I set the phone at an angle, revealing half my face sheepishly. “Maybe . . .”
Win stares at the screen a little too long, taking me in before shaking his head fondly and looking away. He swipes his thumb over his mouth as if trying to rub away a grin. “I don’t care if you’re in bed or running a marathon.”
“Definitely not running a marathon,” I tease. “But thanks for checking in on me. Seriously, I really appreciate it.”
A sense of relief washes over me and a smile breaks across my face as the smell of bacon filling the air. John didn’t leave.
Like always, he sighs at my thanks, shrugging as if he’s trying to emphasize the fact I don’t need to thank him; I should expect this sort of treatment. “What’s your plan for today?” he asks. “Do you want to get lunch?”
John walks into the room, a coffee mug in his hand. “Morning, babe,” he says, handing me the coffee.
Win’s expression drops as he realizes it’s John; with the quickest of looks, I swear his jaw ticks, but he wipes his expression back to neutral so fast that maybe I imagined it?
Caught in the middle, I don’t know what to do. My face turns red as I try to decide whether to answer John or explain myself to Win. Because now it looks like I’m trying to hide the fact I spent the night with John while Win’s worrying about my safety. It’s awkward and I don’t know why; I’ve never crossed a line with Win, but a little guilty pinch pangs in my stomach for some reason. It’s ridiculous, so I ignore it. Win knows about my history with John, and I’ve never cared to shield it from him until now.
“Is that Win?” John asks, not seeming bothered at all.
I’m definitely overthinking this.
“Hey, Win.” He waves at the camera and walks back to the door of my bedroom. “Breakfast is almost done, P.”
“Hi, John. Princess, I’m getting another call. Sorry. I’ll talk to you later.” Without waiting for my reply, Win hangs up.
It’s so unlike him to cut off like that, but he’s a busy man so I shrug it off and wrap the blanket around my body, moving to the living room.
The kitchen smells like heaven. John pulled out all the stops making waffles, bacon, fluffy omelets full of vegetables and gooey cheese. It’s so attractive seeing him get down in the kitchen.
“Eat up, baby,” he tells me, tilting my chin to kiss me, and everything else fades away.