Chapter Twenty-Five
Jonathan
Gabby grimaces at my quip about getting used to the photographers, but doesn’t say anything. Turning, she drags her suitcase into my bedroom and shuts the door.
I want to follow her, pull her back into my arms and kiss her breathless. Until the wariness she came home with is gone. But I don’t. Something tells me she needs the space. Flopping back on the couch, I run my hands through my hair and over my face. I’m all over the place today, from worried this morning to elation when I signed with my new manager, excited to share the news with Gabby. I’d waited, wanting to tell her in person instead of in a text or on the phone.
But her reaction wasn’t what I’d hoped. She seemed almost angry about the news. I managed to talk her around, and she gave me a smile that looked genuine, but with the closed door between us in the empty house, I feel like she’s trying to distance herself from me.
Is it just temporary? I get needing space to process things. Or is she distancing herself in anticipation of a breakup? My mouth goes dry and my stomach drops in dread at just the thought of it. Would she break up with me over this?
Maybe.
And can I blame her? This is turning her life upside down too. And we haven’t talked about anything long term. I mean, I told her she should come with me. But she didn’t really react to that, and we haven’t had time to discuss it more. I’ve been keeping the extent of my feelings to myself, not wanting to scare her off. But if I want her to come with me wherever, then I’ll need to lay it all out for her. Put myself out there, and see if she feels the same way. Because if she came with me, that would be huge. For both of us, but more for her. Can I ask that of her? Don’t I want her to have the college experience?
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself.
The sound of the shower reaches me in the living room. As tempting as it is to see if she’d let me join her in there, a glance at my watch tells me that I don’t have time. And while a quickie in the shower would go a long way toward taking the edge off for me, I want tonight to be as much about her as celebrating my fledgling solo career. I need to show her that what we have is important. That it can withstand the scrutiny of the public eye. And that I’m in this.
With a soft knock on the bedroom door, I poke my head inside. She’s already in the bathroom. The door is cracked, and steam wafts out. I slip into the bedroom and pull off my T-shirt, changing into a white button down and grabbing a jacket out of my closet. I head into the other bathroom to run a comb through my hair, making sure I look presentable for dinner. We haven’t had a real date in a while, and I want to make this one good.
A half hour later, Gabby steps into the living room, glancing at me, but dropping her eyes shyly. She’s wearing leggings and a long purple top that shimmers when it catches the light. Her hair is piled on her head, and she’s taken time to do her makeup, smoky eyes and red lips taking the place of her usual mascara and pink lip gloss.
I can’t stand that she’s uncertain all of a sudden. My usually chatty girlfriend all quiet and subdued.
Holding out a hand, I wait for her to take it before I say, “You look beautiful, Gabby.”
She gives me a small smile. “Thank you.” Her voice has a catch in it, and she clears her throat, blinking a few times before meeting my eyes and saying, “You look nice too.”
I pull her in close, wrapping my other arm behind her and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Hey,” I whisper. “Is everything alright?”
Her smile looks forced. “Yeah. I’m fine. I got used to being lazy with you really quickly, I guess, because today seemed longer than normal.”
“Did anyone give you a bad time?”
She tilts her head to one side. “Not exactly. But it was weird. I got stared at a lot, and having a guy follow me to all my classes and stand outside was definitely noticed. People who had no clue who I was last week are now all interested in me, trying to talk to me and ask me questions.” Her shoulders move like she’s wearing something uncomfortable, but her shirt is soft and silky under my fingers. “It was just a long day.” Her smile comes back, and this time the skin around her eyes crinkles. “I’m glad it’s over, though. And I believe you said we have reservations somewhere fancy soon?”
Smiling back, I nod. “I’m sorry things were weird today. People should get used to it soon, though, and everything will be more normal.”
From the derisive sound she makes, I know she doesn’t believe me. And she’s probably right, but people will quit staring quite so much. At least at school. Until next semester when she starts new classes. But then, again, it’ll wear off after a week or two. People adapt.
Not wanting to start anything, I don’t argue with her. With one more kiss, I release her from my arms, but keep hold of her hand. “We do have reservations soon. Doug’ll be coming with us tonight.” I pull out my phone and let him know we’re ready to go, waiting for his okay before helping Gabby shrug on the sweater that she still hasn’t replaced with something warmer, and opening the front door.
The crowd of photographers has shrunk some, since we haven’t gone anywhere in the evening in days, but there are still enough to blind us with their flashes and assault us with their shouted questions. I keep Gabby tucked under my arm and follow Doug—a middle aged man who looks like The Hulk’s smaller cousin—out to the car. The flashes and shouting die away quickly when Doug revs the engine. But instead of being reassured, I know they’re all just hopping in their cars as fast as they can to follow us wherever we’re going.
Doug has experience with this kind of thing, though. He’s been with Blaine’s company since it started, and I remember him from when he provided security for Brash. Gabby and I are still buckling our seatbelts when he pulls away from the curb, gunning the engine and making a hard right at the end of the block.
“Sorry, guys. I don’t mean to throw you around back there, but you should know to be quicker with the seatbelt, Jon.”
I grin at him, catching his eye for a second in the rearview mirror. “No problem. We’re alright.” A glance at a wide-eyed Gabby shows that her seatbelt is buckled, and she’s clutching the door with one hand, the fingers of her other digging into the seat.
With a low chuckle, I slide my hand over hers. This isn’t quite proving that we can have a normal life despite the photographers, but hopefully once we’re at the restaurant things will get better.
Doug does a good job of losing the paparazzi on the way to Fig, the restaurant where we have reservations. He must’ve mapped out several routes through the maze of Spokane’s residential streets. We cut through several tiny alleys and whizz past houses at speeds I know aren’t legal. But we make it in one piece and minus any parasites.
But when we walk into the restaurant, and the hostess greets us with wide eyes and practically stumbles all over herself when she gets our menus and leads us to our table, I’m not sure that losing the paparazzi will be the only thing trying to derail my attempt at a normal date.
“Oh my gosh,” the petite blonde says when we walk in.
“We have a reservation. Jonathan Brasher.”
“Of course!” Her brown eyes are wide, and she licks her lips, her cheeks flushing as she stares at us. “Oh! I’m sorry. Hang on.” Papers flutter as she knocks a little notepad on the floor. I’m not sure if she’s more starstruck or on the verge of a panic attack as she fumbles for the notepad on the floor, pops back up behind the podium, flipping through the pages of the reservation book to find my name. She looks between me and the book several times, like she’s making sure she has the right Jonathan Brasher.
I give her a small smile, but that seems to be the wrong move, because I think she might’ve stopped breathing. When I glance at Gabby, I hear the hostess gasp in a breath like she’d been hit in the solar plexus and her diaphragm only just started working again.
Gabby turns a laugh into a cough as we follow the poor young woman to a table. When the hostess pulls out Gabby’s chair, Gabby refuses to meet her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek as she sits, barely muttering, “Thank you.”
I give the hostess another closed-mouth smile as I sit in my own chair, causing her to freeze behind Gabby’s chair, her fingers tightening convulsively on the wood. Dropping my gaze to Gabby again, I try not to let anything show on my face.
That seems to be what the hostess needs to be able to resume control of her muscles, because she scurries off once my eyes are off her. I lean in close to Gabby. “Remember when you met Ben and you asked me if you had Medusa’s powers to turn people to stone?”
She lets out a snort and nods. “Yeah. Why?”
“I think I have that effect on our hostess. Only it’s temporary paralysis, not stone statue. Who has the power to temporarily paralyze people with their gaze?”
Shaking her head, she giggles. “I have no idea.” After a glance over her shoulder toward the hostess stand, Gabby leans in close again. “That poor girl. She looks about my age. She probably had your poster on her wall when she was in middle school too.”
I let out a sigh. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”
She shrugs and offers a cheeky grin, unrolling her napkin and placing it in her lap. “You don’t have to feel any way about that.” Straightening her silverware on the table, Gabby won’t look at me. “But lots and lots of girls had crushes on you when they were twelve or thirteen or so. Now that your face is being splashed all over the place again, they know that you’ve grown up and gotten even sexier. It’s no wonder she couldn’t do her job right.”
My lips spread into a wide grin whether I want them to or not. I wait for her to look at me again. “I’ve gotten even sexier?”
With an exasperated look, she sighs. “Please. You know it’s true. That’s like being surprised that the sun is hot or the desert is brown.”
I laugh and lean in closer, resting my arms on the table. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you say it, though. And that makes a big difference.”
She looks like she’s about to roll her eyes, but stops when she sees I’m serious. “You’re very sexy. How else would you have gotten a shot with me?”
She flashes that cheeky grin again, and I laugh. We haven’t laughed like this in a few days, and it feels good.
The waitress, when she arrives, looks confused that we don’t have drinks. “Hi. I’m Mary. I’ll be your server tonight. Did Candi forget to take your drink order?”
Gabby nods. “Yeah. She seemed a little … distracted.”
I cover my mouth with my hand to keep my snort of laughter at Gabby’s understatement almost inaudible.
With a curious glance at me, the waitress pulls out her order pad. “I’m sorry about that. She’s still pretty new. I’ll go ahead and take your drink order. Would you like to hear the specials now, or after I come back with your drinks?”
“When you come back is fine. We’re not in a rush.”
Despite the rocky start of dodging paparazzi and the deer-in-the-headlights hostess, the rest of the evening goes smoothly. Gabby finally relaxes, and we get back to the place where conversation flows and we feel like a normal couple. It’s everything I hoped for. No one bothers us. No one even notices us, tucked away in the back corner of the dim restaurant. And since it’s Wednesday, the dinner crowd is pretty light. Only one table near us is even occupied, and they’re caught up in their own conversations.
After a delicious meal and sharing a creme brûlée, it’s time to brave the way home. Doug lost the paparazzi so thoroughly that they haven’t discovered us, so we walk to the car hand-in-hand, only the glow from the streetlights and the sound of traffic disrupting the night. Nothing like the strobe effect of flashes and cacophony of shouted questions when we left the house.
Will they all be back since they couldn’t find us? Or are they all still out looking?
“Wow,” Gabby breathes when we pull back in front of the house. And I feel the same way.
“I guess they decided I was a boring story after all.”
Doug grins at us from the front seat. “They might’ve gotten an anonymous tip that you were at a different restaurant. They’re probably all still there waiting for you to finish your dinner.”
I laugh and clap Doug on the shoulder. “Thanks, Doug. You’re the best.”
He responds with a shrug and a smile. “No problem. Happy to help.”
Gabby tucks herself under my arm for the walk to the door, grinning up at me. “It’s so nice not to have—“ She’s interrupted by the flash of a camera off to one side, and we both look over to see a guy crouching in the grass. The flash goes off again, blinding us, and I hold up a hand, pulling Gabby closer to my chest.
“Doug!”
“Wait!” the photographer protests. “Just answer a couple of questions.”
I don’t answer, hustling Gabby to the door, confident that Doug will deal with the rogue photographer who either didn’t get the tip or figured out that it was fake and came back to get a clear shot.
When we get inside, Gabby’s mouth is twisted in a crooked smile. “Well, we almost got to walk to your house without getting harassed. I guess one guy isn’t so bad compared to what we’ve been dealing with.”
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on the side of her face. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I was hoping for one night of normalcy. One night where it’s just us.”
Her smile turns sad, and she brings her hand up to mine. “Yeah. I think that’s probably a thing of the past for us. Especially since you have a manager now and are talking to labels.”
“Gabby—“
She shakes her head, interrupting my protest. “I get it, Jonathan. I’m not complaining. Just observing. Tonight was wonderful. One stupid photographer isn’t going to ruin it.”
Pulling her to the couch, I sit sideways, my arms around her, her back to my chest. “I’m sorry.”
She twists around so she can look at me, her brows drawn together. “For what?”
“For all of this. I didn’t mean for things to happen this way. I didn’t plan for this, but it’s still my fault. If you weren’t with me, you could go to class like normal. No bodyguard, no media following you around, no pictures of you, of us, splashed all over the place.”
Turning in my arms, she sits up on her knees, her hand coming to my cheek, and she presses a kiss to my lips, stopping me from saying more. “No. Please. Stop apologizing. I know you didn’t plan this. It’s not your fault.”
“But I’m the one deciding to keep going with this craziness.”
One eyebrow arches high on her forehead. “And who could blame you? I’d do the same thing if I were you. You spent years as a teenager working for this, only to have it ripped away from you because your brother’s voice changed, and no one was willing to work with you guys to transition your popularity into something more mature. That’s not your fault. And now to have that dream handed to you again? Of course you should grab it and run.”
The tension I’ve carried in my chest since she got home today loosens, and I drag her against me, crushing her mouth to mine. She wiggles a little, getting her arms free, and then she responds with all the passion I’m pouring into our kiss.
Her hands slip under my jacket, yanking my shirt up and out of her way. She pulls back, gasping. “Off. All of it. Off.”
With a grin, I sit forward, but instead of rocking back on her heels, she pulls my face to hers again while I struggle out of my jacket. My fingers fumble with the buttons of my own shirt, her tongue in my mouth too distracting for fine motor coordination. When I get the first few undone, I break the kiss and yank everything over my head, balling it up and tossing it to the side. Her short fingernails scrape down my chest, and I hiss in a breath when she reaches my waistband.
The naughty smile on her lips tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing. Her fingers work the leather of my belt free, and I’ve decided I’m tired of being the passive one here.
Her loose top slides easily up and over her head, interrupting her assault on the button of my pants. With a quick yank, I have her leggings down to her thighs, and my hands on the smooth skin of her ass.
“Fucking hell, Gabby. You didn’t wear any panties tonight. Dirty girl.”
My fingers slip between her thighs as she gets my zipper down. We let out matching groans of pleasure as her fingers grip me through my boxers.
“I never wear underwear with leggings,” she manages to get out. “Panty lines.” Then I sink a finger inside her and find her clit with my thumb, and all she can say is, “Oh my God.”
Leaning in to kiss her again, I guide her back so she’s lying on the couch. She whimpers when I withdraw my hand to get her leggings off the rest of the way, and sighs in pleasure when I sink two fingers back in. Nuzzling the cup of her bra out of my way, I kneel next to the couch and take her hard little nipple in my mouth, my jeans slouching around my hips. Her back arches, and another gasp of pleasure escapes her lips. Fingers curl into my hair, and her grip tightens at the same time as her pussy starts to clench around my fingers.
I slow down, though. Wanting to taste her before she comes the first time. Scattering kisses over her body, I move down, pulling one leg to the side to open her to me. When my tongue makes contact with her clit, her hips push up, forcing my fingers deeper. “Oh my God!”
Smiling, I hum against her, and she gasps again. Her free hand can’t seem to find the right thing to hold onto, moving from the back of the couch to her hair to cover her mouth while the other hand still grips my hair, pulling hard enough that it stings. Pumping my fingers harder, I suck on her clit, and she explodes with a cry, my name on her lips, her pussy clamping down on my fingers.
When she’s relaxed from her orgasm, her heavy-lidded eyes find mine and a slow smile spreads across her face. I kiss her. I can’t see that sexy look on her face and not kiss her. Especially since I’m the one who made her look that way.
I stand, shoving my jeans and boxers out of the way, intending to head to the bedroom to get a condom, but Gabby’s hand wraps around my cock. I groan as she pumps me, and even louder when her tongue slides up and down my shaft and she takes me in her mouth. The sight of her lips wrapped around me, her eyes looking up at me so large and beautiful, is almost enough to bring me to my knees on its own. But I hold off, not wanting to come in her mouth. Or so fast. Her head bobs up and down, her fist gripping me just right.
“God, Gabby. That feels so good.” But I pull back. It feels too good.
She pouts up at me, not relinquishing her hold on my cock. “Why’d you stop me then?”
With a low chuckle, I remove her hand. “Because that’s not where I want to finish. Let me go grab a condom.”
Instead of waiting on the couch, Gabby follows me into the bedroom, darts around me and gets a condom from the nightstand before I can get there. She kneels in front of me and rips it open. But she doesn’t put it on me right away. No, she takes me in her mouth again, sucking me as deep as she ever has.
“Christ, Gabby.” I grab the bed with one hand, my knees going weak from the surprise of her mouth on my cock again so soon.
Before I can say anything else, she’s rolling the condom on me, a wicked grin on her face. She stands and pushes me onto the bed, and I lay back as she climbs on top of me.
It took a few times for me to convince her to ride me. But now she climbs on, and we both groan as she lines me up and sinks down, taking me deep right away, her head thrown back, her hair, now loose, tickling my thighs behind her.
Holding onto her hips, I thrust up inside her. She gasps, so I do it again. But then she starts moving, swiveling her hips slowly, grinding her pelvis into mine. I run my hands up her torso to her breasts, tweaking her nipples between my fingers, letting her set the pace. She usually comes a second time like this when she gets to be in control.
She starts out with slow, small movements, gradually increasing her pace. When her strokes get longer, I start pushing up against her more each time she comes down. “God, I love watching you ride me.”
Her eyes open, glassy and dazed with lust, but the L word hangs in the air between us. I haven’t said that, not even like that, before now. But I’ve thought it a billion times.
“I love having you like this.”
She slides up and down, and my hands return to her hips. I can feel her getting close again, and I want to help propel her over the edge.
“I love the feeling of you all around me.”
Her eyes never leave mine as I help her move up and down on my cock, faster and harder, each downstroke rubbing her clit against me.
“I love watching you come.”
“Oh my God,” she cries, and her thighs clamp around my sides at the same time her pussy clenches around my cock.
Taking over now, I keep her moving, slamming up into her, prolonging her orgasm and triggering my own, the white bliss zipping up my spine, curling me up toward her.
My arms go around her when she collapses on my chest. We both lay there, breathing hard. After a moment, I press a kiss to her shoulder. “I love you, Gabby.”