Covered Part Two (5 page)

“I won’t let you down,” she said and shut the door behind her.

I stood for a moment and thought about the years I’d known her. Had I really become one of those women? The ones who swept all their friends out of the way to get the guy?

I hoped I wasn’t, and I hoped everything would go back to normal with Jenny.

If only I’d know how wrong I’d been, and how bad things would get with her. If only I could have seen into the future and known how badly she would ruin my life and my relationship I might have had a fighting chance.

But I couldn’t, and I didn’t, and it wasn’t until it was too late that I understood the depths of her bitter envy and how far she would let it take her.

Life had become a bit of a routine, a whirlwind of photographers and expensive dinners interspersed with the mundane. The mundane being the times I was alone, at Auntie G’s or my job. Other than that it was time spent with Gavin in this bright and shiny bubble of excitement.

I knew it couldn’t last.

It was achingly exquisite while it did though. I’d never been one to wax poetic about aspects of my life, but Gavin brought it out in me.

At the moment, we were heading to my work for his book signing, after that we were off to some fancy dinner with his college friend and his fiancé. I’d met them before and nearly peed myself, feeling a little like one of the Clampett clan every time one of them spoke in their crisp accents.

Sometimes when I was around the Brits, I swear my voice took on a southern twang almost by will of its own.

God, everybody was so elegant in his world, I still didn’t quite understand where I fit in.

When we were alone together it was perfect, when we were dipping our toes in the dull end of things in my world, it was good.

In his world? Not so much.

“I wonder if anybody will show up,” he said as the driver pulled around the corner, “hopefully it won’t just be Jenny trying to talk me into signing her chest again.” He grinned and pantomimed a gagging face.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t think Marta got much advertising done. I was supposed to share on social media, but I’ve been otherwise engaged.” I gave him my Austin Powers sexy stare and he laughed.

I loved it when I made him laugh. I think that’s where I fit in. I mean the sex of course, but let’s face it, he could basically fuck almost any woman he wanted. But he was at ease around me, he laughed more and his face was relaxed. I noticed when we were out or in the public eye, his face was more tense and he seemed tightly wound, like a tiger about to spring forth.

I teased him about his Blue Steel model face all the time, and he punished me by spanking me until I could hardly breath from the excitement of it.

Me, Ms. Britton, loved to be spanked.

Who woulda thunk it?

“Shit,” Gavin exclaimed as we pulled up to the store, “I’m glad I brought those guys.” He nodded behind us to the SUV his bodyguards occupied.

“What’s going on?” I asked and struggled against my tight, calf length skirt to sit up. I finally made it and gasped. “Holy fuck balls,” I whispered, “I don’t think Marta had any idea…”

“Did you just swear, Ms. Britton?” Gavin said, his voice oozing that seductive quality that got me so crazy wet, “I might have to punish your naughty mouth when we get home.”

I whipped my head around and stared at him. “Home?” I asked, “did you just say home?”

He looked slightly flustered, but said, “Yes, I meant home. My home. Our home.”

“I guess I have been spending enough time there I might was well go on the lease,” I replied and grinned. He looked a little uncomfortable and I laughed, “Kidding, but I am flattered that you would say home. It feels like home when I’m with you.”

“Exactly,” he said and pulled me onto his lap. My legs splayed ungracefully and he kissed me. We were deep in it and didn’t notice the driver stopping or getting out or opening the door.

Suddenly about a billion cameras flashed on us and I almost fell on the floor in the back of the Town Car. I squeaked, embarrassed to have been caught making out with him, but even more embarrassed that I might have flashed the paparazzi my oh so sexy Hello Kitty panties.

“Back off,” he said and got out, stood and turned to help me before he hammed it up for the cameras. He was a natural in front of a lens, I, as you may have guessed by now, was not. I was just grateful that he took the time to care for me before he started his show.

The noise was deafening. His bodyguards pulled up in their SUV and hopped out, circled around us, drawing an invisible barrier to keep the crowd back. The woman split like the Red Sea and we made our way into the store.

I glanced back and realized that the line went to the end of the block and wound out of sight.

This was going to be a long freaking night.

We got settled behind a short table Marta had set up near the back of the store and the body guards began to organize the line. Marta was buzzing back and forth like a patchouli scented humming bird, and my coworkers Sylvie, Adrienne and Lydia were rushing around the store looking for any book with Gavin on the front. It looked like we’d be sold out before half the line made it through. Never underestimate the power of perfect abs.

“Sarai, love, would you text Ethan and Jane and tell them we’ll have to catch up another time?” Gavin asked me and fixed a smile on his face as the first women approached the table.

“Of course,” I said and took his phone when he handed it to me. He turned back to the women and I found Ethan’s number.

Sorry, too busy tonight to make it. Another time?
I wrote. It felt weird using his name to send his friend a message, even a quick one like that.

I was about to close his phone and hand it back when I noticed a familiar number. Jenny had texted him a couple hours ago, but he hadn’t replied. My stomach clenched with anger and confusion when I read,
Hey hot stuff, can’t wait to see you later. Also can’t wait to have a repeat of the book event. xoxox

I scrolled up and read three more texts from her number, none of them returned and each as insinuating as the first one I’d read.

No wonder Gavin didn’t like Jenny, she was making a fool of herself, coming after Gavin, my boyfriend. I appreciated what he had done, protecting me from her, but I wish he’d let me know about it before I’d given her administrator privileges to my blog and basically handed her the keys to my kingdom.

He took the phone and gave me a funny look, raised his eyebrow and turned back to the fans when I waved off his concern.

He could read me like an open book, we were very in tune which helped most of the time, but right then I was so pissed off I didn’t want it to effect his mood. So, I did my best as a good girlfriend and watched woman after woman giggle and try desperately to flirt with my boyfriend, all the while thinking about the bitch who was supposed to be my best friend.

Surely she’d have an explanation for it. I trusted Gavin, but suddenly I wasn’t so sure I could trust Jenny.

***

“Mr. James, Gavin, thank you so much,” Marta said at the end of the night. We’d gone until almost ten, until every last woman had gotten a chance to meet him and have something signed. He refused to do body parts this time, on account of me being right there although he swore he would draw that line if he was alone as well.

That made me feel…well, powerful. I felt smug and satisfied every time somebody told me how lucky I was, or how envious she was, or just shot me one of those looks that told me they’d do anything to be in my place.

I had even worn my contact lenses tonight, hating the way the camera flash reflected in my glasses lately. They made me look cross-eyed and other worldly in the photos, and not other worldly as in ethereal, more like an alien.

“You sure earned your pay tonight,” I joked and took his hand as he stood.

He stretched, groaned, pulled my hand to his heart and said, “Yes, you do owe me.” He leaned to kiss me and whispered in my ear, “I can’t wait to get it later, Ms. Britton.”

I shivered and laughed, pulled away and said, “I hope you don’t mind if I stay away tomorrow, Marta. I’m exhausted.”

“Not a problem,” she replied, “take the day off. You earned it. I’ll even pay you, I think we made about a month of your salary in all the books we sold. When we ran out of Gavin’s books, they were even buying bookmarks or Kindle covers for him to sign. Thank you so much again…both of you.”

We left, sent the bodyguards on their way and had a late dinner at an intimate restaurant on the water, then made our way back to his place.

Just over two months ago had been the first time I was at his place. Now there were signs of me everywhere, a hairbrush on the bathroom counter, my favorite mug in his kitchen, a plush throw on the sofa, my underwear in a drawer in his dresser.

It really did feel like home.

The moment we got inside, he was on me like a starving man at a buffet. He backed me into the apartment and kicked the door closed, all the while kissing me passionately, his hands pushing up my skirt, seeking my hot center.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” I whispered against his hungry lips.

“Let’s fuck right here,” he said back, his voice a harsh growl, “it drove me mad all evening, with you right next to me, not being able to touch you. Hundreds of women parading in front of me, and not one of them holding a candle to you, Ms. Britton. All I could think about was getting you back here and getting under your skirt.”

He shoved my skirt higher until it was around my waist and my legs were free. I sighed against his chest and melted into his embrace. I pulled my legs up, he grabbed the thin material of my panties and tore them off me with one harsh tug. Thank god I had more than one pair now.

“Gavin,” I said and clung to him, trembling with need, “I want you inside me, I need it.”

“You need what, love?” he asked and bit my neck, sucked my flesh and rolled it in his teeth. I threw my head back and thrust myself against him. His hands held me tight.

I moved up again as he released my neck, backed towards the living room and spun me around in front of the window. I dropped from his arms and turned to face outside, the magnificent view of the landscape, the lights twinkling in the distance, the boats on the water, the cars down below.

“I need you to fuck me, I need you, Mr. James,” I said and pushed my ass against him. I felt his hardness press into me and he leaned over me, wrapped an arm around my waist and reached for his cock.

I pressed my hands against the window, a little dizzy at the sensation of being so high off the ground, and a little frightened that the glass could give way at any moment.

The second the head of his cock found my entrance, these thoughts were erased. He slid himself inside of me, and all I could see was his reflection in the glass, his eyes half closed and his mouth curved into a satisfied smile as though he’d just come home.

He caught my eye in the reflection and reached up to trace the smile on my own lips, thrust his finger into my mouth as he took me from behind.

I cried out and closed my eyes. “Open them, love,” he said and thrust into me vigorously, “I want to see your face when you come, I want to see your eyes.”

I obeyed and couldn’t look away as he became more frantic with his need, thrusting against me, his finger in my mouth. I sucked hard and felt the urgency building inside of me. The jealousy I’d felt over Jenny’s betrayal, the anxiety I’d felt over all those woman desiring my boyfriend, it all washed over me and added to the overall experience.

“Gavin,” I managed to gasp, opening my mouth in ecstasy, his finger left to trace my lip as we came together.

“Yes, love,” he said into my ear, “come for me, Sarai.”

I did. I clenched and shuddered against him, felt his grip tighten as he tensed and released himself.

We stayed like that for a moment, satisfied, our lust receding slowly.

I was breathing heavily, and a little choked up. I didn’t know what was happening; I felt my voice catch in my throat.

When we were both calm, he lead me to the bedroom, taking my hand to steady me. I needed no words as he fell on me, mad with passion.

We had sex several times, long enough that the passion gave way to tenderness, the fucking gave way to making love.

I finally fell into a deep sleep in his arms. The contentment I felt knew no bounds, there was nothing in my vocabulary to describe how he made me feel.

Safe, loved, desired, and more importantly, like I was necessary in his life.

As he was necessary in mine.

Gavin and I managed to spend the entire indulgent morning in bed. I felt absolutely sinful, and beyond a call to Auntie G to let her know I was fine, and a text to work to confirm that I wasn’t coming in, I made no attempts to communicate with the outside world. The blog was being handled by Jenny; and even though she’d pissed me off…I had to be realistic, I wasn’t interested in reading a lot of books these days. Maybe I had become
that
girl, but who wanted to read about this kind of thing when you were living it?

We both realized we’d have to surface at some point, but were reluctant to leave our happy little bubble. Our place. He had an early evening meeting with his agent, but beyond that we were okay to lounge.

We’d managed to make some toast and tea at some point before noon, but had ended up back in the living room. He’d drawn a light blanket over us and we were curled up against each other on the sofa watching some old kung fu movie. He was propped on his back with me in his arms, my head resting on his chest.

I was lazily stroking his skin, touching his body and marvelling that this gorgeous creature was mine when I suddenly focused on his tattoos. I sat up and looked at them as if for the first time.

“What do these mean?” I asked, scanning my head for anything I’d read. He was notoriously mysterious about their symbology and I couldn’t think of anything about them that had been published. In all this time he’d never mentioned them at all.

I traced a long, abstract pattern of symmetrical designs that curved around and around his forearm. The same arm that was wrapped around my midsection, the same arm I had clung to in orgasm.

“Just some images I liked,” he replied and I dropped it. He didn’t seem as though he wanted to talk about them.

Still, they were gorgeous, skillfully done and they fit on his body perfectly, enhancing his bulging muscles, not too garish or obvious. They were all in black, all abstract and symmetrical patterns that moved up his arm and down one side of him. Interspersed in the designs were some images, a Koi fish, a lion, and a dragon.

“Okay,” I said, “I was just curious. Did they hurt?”

“Not that much,” he replied, “I had them done over a few years, so it wasn’t too bad.”

“It’s a little shocking though, right?” I said, “I mean for somebody from your social upbringing.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You came from money. Here in the US we think of you guys as preppy private school kids. Not exactly the tattooed bad boy image.” I smiled and wiggled up a little so I could look at him. “Not meaning you’re a bad boy, but you know.”

“So you think a kid from a nice family with a wealthy background can’t have ink?” he asked and grinned.

“Do your siblings have any?” I asked, “or your parents?”

“Dear god, no,” he laughed, “although I might pay good money to see my brother the investment banker get a full sleeve. Or my sister the international broker with a neck tattoo.”

I laughed with him, thinking of my own lack of ink. I hoped he didn’t see me as too boring because of it. “I have nothing,” I said, “maybe one day. I just don’t know what I want to look at on my old, wrinkled body. It might look pretty bad by then.”

“I think it would look fantastic, love,” he said, “but then again, I think you’ll be one hot old lady.”

I giggled and play slapped him, “I doubt you’d think my old wrinkled ass would be hot.”

“I think anything about you is hot, love,” he said and pulled me up on his chest and kissed me. I slid myself against him and felt him harden at my touch. I was already wet for him, I was pretty much always wet for him though. His body still affected me on some weird electrical chemical level. My nerves felt heightened around him, like they’d been rubbed raw and were sensitive to every cell in his body.

“You’re only saying that because I happen to be half naked on top of you,” I said, “I have a feeling you’d tell me anything right now to keep me here.”

“That’s not true,” he replied, suddenly serious, “I think you’re beautiful, and I’m not just saying that because you’re here. I care about you so much, Ms. Britton, and want you to know it.”

“I feel beautiful when you say it,” I replied and frowned, “and that worries me.”

“Why would it worry you?” he asked and rubbed my back slowly.

“It either means you’re sincere, in which case you will slowly deconstruct my carefully constructed walls at some point soon and I’ll be vulnerable…or you’re a very good liar. If that’s the case, guaranteed I will get hurt at some point soon.”

“I’m very good at a lot of things,” he said and pulled me in for another kiss, “but lying to you is not one of them. I mean it when I say it, you are beautiful and I care for you.”

“I care for you too,” I replied and kissed him this time.

“In fact,” he continued against my lips, “one might even say I love you.”

I pulled back and scanned his face for a joke. There was none, he was being sincere. I smiled, pressed my lips against his and whispered, “One might say I love you too.” Then we kissed again, his frantic tongue swirling around mine, his hips grinding against me, and his hands running all over my back. I moaned and felt a snake of pleasure travel up my spine. I shivered and fell deeper into the kiss.

After a moment he pulled away, furrowed his brow and was silent, his hands stopped moving. He scanned my face, as if looking for an answer, and appeared to have gotten what he needed. His face relaxed and he said, “They’re for my mother and my brothers.”

“What are?”

“The tattoos.”

“But you just said your family doesn’t have any,” I replied. I was confused, everything I’d read indicated his family wasn’t the kind to appreciate gestures such as this.

“My real family,” he said quietly, then closed his eyes. I felt him tense up, and I felt him withdraw from me, as though instantly regretting what he’d said.

I sat up slightly, propping myself on his chest and looking at his face. His eyes opened and he stared at me. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’m adopted,” he said and screwed his mouth into a twisted grimace. The pained look passed as soon as it appeared, but I could see it in his eyes.

“Your family isn’t your biological family?” I asked, incredulous. From the outside it had all seemed like a fairy tale.

“I was adopted when I was four,” he said, “I haven’t told anyone this, love. I want you to know that, this is how important you are to me.”

“Oh Gavin,” I said, exhaling in wonder at the trust he placed in me, “I can’t believe you shared this, thank you.”

“You were too young to remember it, and I’m not sure how much coverage it got over here, but I was found in a terrible situation. My father was an abusive drunk who went after my mother one night,” he said and his voice caught in his throat, “I had two older brothers. They…”

“It’s okay,” I said, “you don’t have to tell me everything.”

“I want to,” he said, “I feel like I need to. One night the police were called, the neighbors heard them fighting. My father had gone nuts and beaten her so badly she was almost unrecognizable. My brothers…they didn’t make it. She died later in hospital and I was given up for adoption.”

“Oh my god,” I whispered, “I am so sorry.”

“The press apparently called me Baby Charlie, it was all that was on TV for the entire year. My family saw the story and my mother decided she absolutely had to have me. Strings were pulled, and I became theirs, all aspects of my past was erased from the record and nothing more was said about it.”

“Do you remember anything about that time?”

“Not at all, thankfully.”

“Did you know you were adopted?”

“I sensed it, but my family is the traditional stiff upper lip sort. We didn’t talk about it really.”

“Did they ever come out and just tell you?”

“When I turned eighteen, my mother and father sat me down and told me the story. They had a box of items, some newspaper clippings, my adoption papers, that kind of thing.”

“Where did you get the idea for the tattoos?”

“The symbols are from my birth mother’s sketches. She had these books and books filled with these intricate, abstract drawings so I had some turned into these tattoos,” he said and indicated the lines wrapping his arm. “The animals each represent one of them, my mother and two brothers. Tied to the meanings of their names.”

I was speechless, I hadn’t expected him to tell me such a deeply painful and intimate story and I wasn’t certain how to react, what to say.

Instead of saying anything, I laid my head on his chest and listened to his heart, put my arms around him the best I could and said, “Thank you for sharing that with me, I love you for it.”

“I love you too, Sarai,” he said quietly.

He started rubbing my back again and we fell into a comfortable silence, the crappy kung fu movie on in the background and the sound of the city from down below on the street was the backdrop to our deep thinking.

I felt a communion with Gavin that was growing by the day. Every moment I spent with him tightened the bonds that were growing between us.

Each beat of our hearts put more distance between who I was then, and who I had been. The fear was being left on some distant horizon as we moved towards something new together.

“Thank
you
by the way,” he said.

I looked up at him, “What for?”

“For not looking at me differently, for not flinching while I told you,” he said, “you don’t know how much that means to me, love.”

“Why would that change what I thought of you?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I’ve had it bottled up and hidden for so long I didn’t know how it would sound once it hit the light of day.”

“It sounds atrocious,” I said, “and shocking, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you. If anything, it makes you more human to me.”

He seemed to pull back slightly, raised an eyebrow and said, “More human?”

I blushed and stuttered, “Yes, not to sound rude but it makes you more approachable.”

“What else did you need to approach me?” he teased, “I practically chased you down, Ms. Britton. I don’t think you had much of a choice.”

I laughed and hid my face in my hands, suddenly overcome with embarrassment at my assessment. “I mean here you are…
you
…and you’re famous and amazing and everybody knows who you are. And here I am…
me
…a nobody. I still don’t know how this all happened.”

“You are certainly not a nobody,” he said, “especially not to me, love. You are very much a somebody.”

“But it’s all so crazy,” I protested, “this kind of thing really doesn’t happen in real life. So when you tell me something that makes you less than one hundred percent flawless, it means I can relate with you on some level.”

“I wish it weren’t that particular level though,” he sighed.

“Me too,” I replied, “but sorrow is powerful, and if that’s the one place where we meet up, then perhaps it truly is meant to be. We’re in each other’s lives to help each other heal. I know I haven’t felt this alive in years, but of course I can’t speak for you and your amazing life.”

He paused and appeared to think about my response. I loved studying his perfect face while he thought about something I said. He finally replied, “It’s odd though, people look at me from the outside and assume everything is perfect. It’s not, and for years I’ve felt like I’ve been living a lie.”

“Do you not like modeling?”

“I do,” he admitted, “I enjoy what I do but there are times I feel like half a person. My family doesn’t want anyone knowing about the adoption, and my publicist said if the press caught wind of my early childhood, it would be career suicide. There’s nothing sexy about the poor little orphan boy who was almost killed by his deranged father. The general public doesn’t want real, they want sexy.”

“I’m not the general public,” I replied and pressed my face to his naked chest again, felt the steady rhythm of my heart reassuring me this wasn’t a dream, this was all happening. “I find you sexy and wonderful and absolutely perfect for me no matter where you came from.”

He kissed the top of my head and said, “That’s exactly why I love you so much, Ms. Britton,
you
are unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

I smiled and closed my eyes, felt his hands touching me, but more than that, I felt his soul touching mine.