The Mighty Storm (30 page)

He pauses buttoning his jeans up and he stares across at me. The stormy look in his eyes makes everything in me come to an abrupt halt.

“
I haven
’
t been near anyone since you came back into my life, Tru.” He runs his hand through his hair, hanging it off the back of his neck, he exhales loudly.

All I can do is stare at him, my blood heating, goose bumps racing across my skin.

“
You ask what I want from you?” His eyes move to my lips, then my eyes. “I want you, Tru. I just want
you
. All day, every day.”

His words are so simple, so easy.

My heart stutters.

I’m stunned. I literally don’t know what to say.

He wants me? I wasn’t just another lay to him.

I have waited more than a decade to hear Jake say he wants me, and now, here, at quite possibly the worst time in my life he could say it … and he’s saying it, and I have no clue how to respond.

“
What?” is the best I can muster up.

“
I get it Tru, it was a
one time thing
for you, it
’
s fine
–
you want to stay with Will. Why would you want me?” he mutters, backing up, turning for the door.

It
’
s clearly not fine. And he clearly doesn
’
t get it. I
’
m not entirely sure I do.

One thing I do know is everything has just got so much more complicated than I could have ever imagined. But a very big part of me doesn
’
t care. Because he doesn
’
t just want one night. Jake wants more. He wants me.

“
No. Wait.” I rush forward, grabbing hold of his arm, stopping him. “You
’
ve got it wrong. I thought this was just a one off for you. I didn
’
t know this … us … that you wanted an … us.”

He stares down at me with his blue, blue eyes. “It
’
s all I want.”

My heart sighs and scatters across the floor.

I look up into his eyes. “I
’
ve wanted you for the last decade, Jake. I want to be with you.”

He stares down at me, hope evident in his eyes. “And Will?”

Will.

“
I
’
ll talk to him,” I swallow. “When I go back home after the tour. I
’
ll talk to him then.”

He frowns.

“
I can
’
t do it over the phone, Jake. He deserves more than that from me, and it
’
s only five days away.”

He nods, but I can see the reluctance in his agreement.

Then he takes my face in his hands and leans his mouth down to mine and kisses me. A long, slow delicious kiss.

My whole body responds to him.

“
So you
’
re mine?” he murmurs.

“
Yes,” I breathe, barely believing I’m saying the words, that this is even happening.

“
You’re wearing my T-shirt.” His traces his finger over the fabric on my breast and my nipple instantly hardens. “I like you in my clothes … but I also like you out of them.” He takes hold of the hem of his T-shirt, his fingers skimming my skin as he lifts it over my head, dropping it to the floor. “But I like being inside you even more,” he whispers, pulling me up tight against his firm body.

He starts to kiss my neck, as he backs me up toward the bed. “You didn’t have any plans for today did you?” he murmurs against my skin.

“
Um…no.” Even if I did they would have been cancelled for sure.

“
Good. Because you’re not leaving this room today, and neither am I.”

He picks me up, putting me on the bed, he pulls his jeans and boxer shorts off in one, and climbs on top of me, ready for round two.

And once again, Will and my life back in the UK disappear off into the ether.

We stayed one more night in Denmark for the gig at the Parken Stadium, and now we
’
re in Paris for the last show of the European tour at the Stade de France, tomorrow night.

And the whole time Jake and I have been sleeping together, and when I say sleeping, we
’
ve not done much actual sleeping.

Behind closed doors we
’
re acting like we
’
re a couple, and in front of others pretending like nothing is different between us.

I
’
ve been putting on a façade, acting like everything is okay to Will when I speak to him on the phone, when it
’
s clearly not.

I know that I’m the worst kind of person, but currently I just can
’
t see past Jake.

All I see his him.

I
’
m so completely in love, and lust with him.

Fortunately, the media interest in Jake and I quickly died down when Stuart put out a press release stating there was no story.

The release was firm on the point that Jake and I have a purely professional relationship.

Jake had Stuart put the statement out, and he only did that for me. If Jake had his way, the whole world would know about us.

For obvious reasons that can
’
t happen.

But I
’
ll be going home in a few days, after the show, and I
’
m going to tell Will then.

I think.

Well, that
’
s what I
’
ve promised Jake I
’
ll do. And I know I have to tell Will the truth, I just feel absolutely sick every single time the thought passes through my mind about telling him. So I
’
m trying not to think about it.

Instead I
’
m just immersing myself in Jake, as much and as often as I can.

We haven
’
t spent a night apart since that night in Copenhagen, and honestly, I can
’
t imagine spending a night apart from him ever again.

Every night though I have the same internal battle.

I go and call Will before bed as scheduled.

I feel sick with guilt after the call.

Jake is jealous and ansty with me when I return to him.

A part of me wants to leave Jake because of the guilt I feel over Will, the other part, the bigger part, wants to stay because of the way I feel about him.

We fight a little, sometimes a lot.

Then we spend the rest of the night making up.

Tonight, we
’
re in my suite. The guys have all gone out.

Jake and I both made some lame excuse up for not going out so we could spend the night together.

We ordered room service, ate our fill, and are now snuggled up on the sofa. I
’
m nestled in-between Jake
’
s legs, head on his chest, and we
’
re watching Armageddon.

There wasn
’
t much on the hotels movie listing, and I like Armageddon, it
’
s a sweet film.

Jake has been stroking my hair for the last ten minutes and I
’
m starting to feel sleepy and content.

I must have fallen asleep on Jake, because the next thing I know, he is lifting me up off the sofa and into his arms, and the room is in darkness.

“
What are you doing?” I mumble, sleepy.

“
Putting you to bed.”

“
And where are you sleeping?”

“
With you, of course.”

I don
’
t argue tonight. I
’
m too tired. And I wouldn
’
t argue any way. There
’
s no guilt, because I haven
’
t called Will.

Crap.

Well, I
’
m not going to call him now. I
’
ll just call him in the morning, tell him I fell asleep.

That
’
s at least the truth.

And the fact is, I love sleeping with Jake.

I know it
’
s wrong. Everything about this is wrong.

But it also feels so very right. And I don
’
t have the energy to care about right and wrong now.

Jake lays me down in bed and pulls the duvet over me.

I hear him moving around the room, undressing and then the bed dips as he climbs in beside me.

I feel his hand reach out in the dark, and he takes hold of mine. He pulls my hand over and holds it against his warm, hard chest. I can feel his heart beating under my palm.

“
I love being in bed with you,” he whispers.

“
And I love having you in my bed.”

“
Are you still tired?” he asks.

“
Not so much now.” I stifle a yawn. “Why, what did you have in mind?”

“
A few things.”

“
Go on?” I coax, smiling.

He shifts closer to me and runs his hand up my leg. I part them as his hand moves higher.

“
Say something in Spanish to me,” he murmurs.

“
Why?”

“
Because you sound so sexy when you do.” He runs his tongue over the skin on my neck, and I shiver inside.

“
I do? I always thought I sounded dorky.”

He lifts his head, staring at me in the darkness. “Dorky
–
are you kidding?”

“
Well, you laughed every time I did the accent when we were kids.”

“
I laughed to try and kill my hard-ons.”

“
And I did it to make you laugh,” I giggle.

“
Tease.”

“
Perv.” I grin. “So you really like it.” I push my fingers into his thick hair.

“
I
really
like it.” His voice is dark and sexy. “I spent most of my early adolescence with a hard-on because of you
–
I still do now. I can
’
t watch a Penelope Cruz film without getting a hard on
–
it doesn
’
t bode well at premieres you know. I associate all things Puerto-Rican and Spanish with hard-ons, and it
’
s totally your fault.”

I giggle again.

“
When you were teaching Stuart Spanish swearwords the other day, fuck, Tru
…”

“
Joder,” I whisper.

“
Christ,” he groans. He grabs my hair, kissing me hard on the mouth.

I like this seeming sense of power I have over him.

“
Shit, Tru, what are doing to me? It took everything in me the other night not to bend you over the table and take you right there and then in front of Stuart.”

“
Is that why you were so moody?”

“
I was frustrated,” he growls.

I grin in the darkness, shivers ricocheting through me.

“
You should have taken me then.”

“
Don
’
t think I won
’
t,” he says, tone serious and really hot. “The next time you speak to me in Spanish I
’
m going to do some seriously dirty things to you and I won
’
t care where we are.”

I press my legs together and moisten my dry lips. “Hazme el amor,” I say, trying to sound seductive.

He groans, biting down on my bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth. “What did you say?”

“
Make love to me.”

“
That, I can do.” He yanks my shorts and panties down and pushes his finger deep inside me.

I gasp gripping the sheets with my hands.

“
I
’
ll never tire of doing this with you,” he breathes.

“
I
’
m sure one day you will.”

He has me flat on my back and is on top of me, pinning my arms above my head before I get chance to blink.

“
Never,” he reaffirms. Then he starts to kiss my neck, working his way downwards, hands cupping my breasts, touching me in just the right way, like he
’
s been doing this to me always.

And once again, I lose myself in him, basking in his glory, and the feelings only he can create in me.

Jake and I are laying facing one another in the darkness, the shine of the moonlight coming in through the huge hotel window, as we stare at each other.

“
Do you still dip your fries in your milkshake?” he asks.

We
’
re talking food. We
’
ve been talking nonsense for the last hour, my tiredness faded long ago with the sex, and I
’
m loving it. I
’
m loving him.

“
Of course,” I grin.