Wethering the Storm

Chapter THREE

I look down at the lights of LA as the jet heads for LAX.
Jake is sleeping beside me. I reach over and brush his fallen hair off his forehead. He looks so peaceful. I hate to wake him, but we’ll be coming in to land soon.
I glance down at my friendship bracelet on his wrist. Shifting it aside, I see where his skin is lighter underneath, where it’s been hidden from the sun. The same as mine. We never take them off—a promise made to each other to always wear the reminder of our childhood connection—the bracelets I made for us both all those years ago.
I can’t believe our holiday is over. The best holiday of my life. Now we’re heading back to reality.
Well, Jake’s reality.
Which is so far from any reality I could have ever imagined.
An ordinary girl in a far-from-ordinary world.
I wish we could have stayed on the island indefinitely, because I have a feeling that coming back here means things are about to get very real, very quickly.
Curving my fingertips around Jake’s ear, I tickle the sensitive skin behind it. The spot that drives him crazy when I kiss him there.
He catches my wrist, surprising me. “Don’t start something you can’t win,” he says with a sexy growl to his voice.
“Who says I can’t win?”
“Me.”
“That right?”
“Hmm.” He moves in closer, revealing his stunningly blue eyes. “You forget I know exactly where all of your sensitive spots are, Bennett.”
Heat floods me and I squirm. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was until some little minx started tickling me.”
“Minx?” I let out a laugh.
“Yep, that’s you. A minx. Cunning and flirtatious.”
“Flirtatious?” I scoff.
“Yep, flirtatious and irresistible.”
“Meant for you,” I add.
“F*cking right, meant for me.”
His gaze pins me to the seat, possessing me, owning me.
Holding back a gulp, I say, “Well, python, we’re home.” A light smile settles on my lips.
Home.
LA is my home now. It feels strange to say.
The last time I was in LA, the story of Jake’s dad had just broken in the news.
I shudder at the memory.
Jake sits up in his seat, stretching his legs out, his arms go over his head, then one comes down to rest on my shoulder, pulling me to him. “You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, just wishing we’d had longer together on the island.”
“Me too,” he murmurs, resting his chin on the top of my head. “We’ll go back there again one day real soon.”
“We could take our honeymoon there,” I suggest, optimism filling me, as I look up at him.
“That’s a great idea.” He smiles.
“Guess I need to start planning our wedding, then…or did you want a long engagement?” I bite my lip.
“F*ck no! Baby, we can get married tomorrow if you want. You just say the word and I’ll tell the pilot to take us to Vegas.”
I let out a laugh. “My mother would have a seizure if I got married in Vegas, and my dad would kick your ass for taking away his chance to walk his only child down the aisle.”
“Point taken. I really don’t want an ass-kicking from Billy.”
“Where do you want to get married? Here or the UK?”
“I don’t mind.” He shrugs. “I guess it would be easier to get married here because we live here, but honestly the choice is yours. If you want to get married in Manchester, it’s cool with me. You just tell me the time and the place, baby, and I’ll be there.”
“Am I to take it you’ll be having absolutely no input in this wedding whatsoever?”
“Of course I will,” he says, grinning. “I’ll be organising my bachelor party. No, scrap that. I promised Tom he could do it.”
Tom is the bassist in TMS, one of Jake’s closest friends, and renowned player. The same as Jake was before we got together, but now he’s with me and that’s all behind him. Thankfully.
“Oh God,” I groan. “It’ll be a shagfest, filled with lap dancers and hookers. I’m envisioning Hangover 2 right now.”
Jake laughs. “Ah, give him some credit, baby. It won’t be that bad.”
“If you turn up with a tattoo on your face, telling me you’ve shagged a lady boy, I’m definitely not marrying you.”
He fixes me with a stare. “Sweetheart, if I have to tell you I shagged a lady boy, I’ll be telling you from prison.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll have f*ckin’ killed Tom for letting it happen.”
We both start laughing, as the pilot comes on the intercom to tell us to buckle up because we’re coming in to land.


Dave pulls into the drive outside Jake’s house. I mean our house. I still haven’t gotten used to saying that. And I would never say this to Jake, but it doesn’t feel like my house.
Because, well, I kind of hate his house…okay, maybe hate’s too strong a word.
I intensely dislike Jake’s house.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful. Not overly flashy. Modern. It has three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a music studio, and a gym.
But it’s a bachelor pad. And that’s the problem.
It was Jake’s bachelor pad that he brought countless women back to.
God, just thinking about it makes me want to hurl.
I’ve never had sex with Jake at his house before. During the short stay we had here between tour dates, sex wasn’t exactly on either of our minds.
But now I live here, and Jake’s going to want to have sex—a lot—and I know I’ll be thinking of the countless other women here before me. In Jake’s house. In his bed.
The bed that I’m going to share with him.
I hate that more than I can express.
Ugh.
I know I’m being overly sensitive, and I know Jake has never lived here with a woman before. That counts for something.
This is his home. My home now. I’m going to have to get used to it.
How? I’m not entirely sure, because currently I feel like the memory of his old life lingers like a bad smell when I’m in his house.
My house.
Crap.
I really need to get used to referring to it as “my house,” otherwise Jake will notice, and I don’t want to upset him. I don’t need to be stirring up any of my issues with his past.
“Just drop the cases in the hall and get yourselves home,” Jake says to Dave and Ben, unlocking the front door, letting me in first.
I see the light is on in the kitchen, and hoping that one of my favourite people in the world is here, I say good-bye to Dave and Ben and head straight for the kitchen.
“Chica!” Stuart beams at me as I enter through the archway. “Aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes? Look at you, all tanned and beautiful. What I wouldn’t give for your colouring.”
“The perks of having a Puerto Rican mother.” I walk into his open embrace, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I missed you.”
“What? You had time to miss me? You’re telling me the infamous snake over there didn’t keep you busy while you were away?” Stuart nods in Jake’s direction. Jake is leaning against the archway, watching us.
His face looks blank. Sometimes I have a hard time assessing Jake’s mood. It’s only his eyes that have the ability to give him away. Not this time, though.
“Oh, he kept me plenty busy.” I share a secret smile in Jake’s direction, one that flickers in his eyes, bringing them to life.
I can almost see what he’s thinking, and my cheeks flush at the memories of the many things we got up to on holiday.
“But I still found time to miss my favourite guy,” I add, turning back to Stuart.
“I thought I was your favourite guy?” Jake says with mock annoyance, coming over, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.
“Get in line, man. Hos before bros.” Stuart clamps his arm around my shoulder.
I snort, then clamp my hand over my mouth.
Not attractive, I know. Snorts just happen sometimes, unexpectedly.
“God, I feel like I’m in an episode of One Tree Hill,” Jake complains.
“You’re such a moody bastard after a flight.” Stuart waves him away with his hand. “So you guys had a good time?” he asks, directing his question at me.
“The best! You’ll have to come next time, Stuart. It’s amazing there, you would love it.”
“You want Stuart to come on our honeymoon with us?” Jake raises an eyebrow.
“Oh, right, of course. Okay, so the next time after that.” I smile.
“It’s that good that it’s going to be the honeymoon destination?” Stuart questions, a glint in his eye.
“That good.” I nod, smiling at the memory of the island.
“So you guys have set a date?” Stuart releases me and leans up against the counter.
Taking off my jacket, I hang it on the back of the stool across from Jake and hop up onto it. “Not yet, but I’m going to start planning tomorrow…well, start figuring out how exactly to plan a wedding and set a date.”
“If you need a hand, gorgeous, just let me know,” he offers.
“I might just take you up on that. Ooh, you made tea.” I smile, noticing the brewing pot on the side. “Could I love you any more?” I jump down from my stool and nudge Stuart with my hip.
“Not too f*ckin’ much, I hope,” Jake mutters, reaching over to get a biscuit out of the barrel.
“Don’t worry, baby. I love Stuart in a purely platonic way. He’s like the brother I never had.”
“Aww, honey, that’s lovely.” Stuart smiles at me, nudging me with his hip.
“I thought I was the brother you never had all those years growing up.” Jake’s brow furrows.
“Jake, if I had ever looked at you in a brotherly way growing up, then we would never have ended up having sex in our adulthood.”
“Shame I didn’t know how you felt back then.” Jake’s face relaxes into a sexy grin. “Just imagine all the things we could have gotten up to in your bedroom instead of doing our homework.”
My eyebrow lifts, and my panties nearly drop of their own accord.
“Still here,” Stuart says, cutting into the spell Jake’s put me under. “And I’m suffering from a long dry spell, so please cut out the sex talk. Right, let’s get to the important matter,” Stuart adds, rubbing his hands together. “One of you give me my gift already. I’m dying here!”
“Gift?” I give Stuart a puzzled look, then direct one to Jake, who shrugs. He’s in on my little bit. “We were supposed to get you a gift?”
I start to pour tea from the pot into three waiting cups, suppressing a smile.
“Don’t f*ck around. Come on, duty-free purchases are part of my contract. Gimme.” He proffers his hand, curling his fingers up in an impatient gesture.
I put down the teapot. Holding a steady face, I bite my lip for effect. “I’m really sorry, Stuart. I didn’t realise we were supposed to get you anything.”
I see the light disappear in his eyes. His face drops. “Oh, it’s okay, honey, don’t worry…”
“I mean, I didn’t realise gifts were part of your contract, so I guess it’s a good job I got you these Oliver Peoples aviators,” I say, reaching over and pulling them from out of my jacket pocket.
Stuart’s been hankering after a pair of these but they’ve been sold out everywhere—I didn’t even know sunglasses could sell out—so I asked Jake to pull some strings and get a pair directly from the designer. Which, of course, he did. The perks of being Jake. They were waiting at LAX for me to pick up.
“Holy f*ck!” Stuart says. “How did you…? Never mind. These are so totally f*cking awesome! You are so totally f*cking awesome!”
He picks me up and spins me around, then sets me back on my feet. He takes the sunglasses from my hand and puts them on.
“How do I look?”
“You look amazing. They totally suit you. You know, with those sunglasses on, you look a bit like that model. You know the British one, David Gandy.”
“More like Gandhi,” Jake quips.
I can’t not laugh at that.
“F*ck off!” Stuart says, admiring himself in the glass of the oven door. “You’re just jealous you wouldn’t be able to carry off something so stylish.”
“Um, hottest male two thousand and twelve here, as voted by the great American public.”
“I think they were voting for the snake, not you.” Stuart smirks, inferring to the nickname for Jake’s huge…anatomy. The one he regularly uses on me.
“So anyway, chica, this David Gandy dude…is he hot?”
“Oh, so totally and completely hot.” I nod enthusiastically.
“Uhum,” Jake clears his throat loudly.
“But not as hot as you, baby.”
“Damn straight,” Jake mutters.
“On that note, I’m going to bed to spend the rest of the night looking at myself in the mirror and researching pics of this hot Gandy dude.”
Stuart picks up his tea and heads out of the kitchen with a wave of his hand. “Good to have you back,” he says to us both.
“It’s good to be back.” I half mean that. “Sleep well,” I call after him.
“You too, chica.”
“You know…” Jake says, pouring milk into the two remaining teas. He picks one up and hands it to me. “Stuart is the only man I will tolerate mauling you. And that’s only because he’s as gay as they come.”
“Stuart doesn’t maul me.” I laugh. I take a sip of my tea, then set it down. “He’s just a tactile guy. I like tactile people,” I add, positioning myself between his legs.
“Yeah? Well, if any man ever touches you here”—he brushes his finger over my lips—“I’ll kick his ass.”
“What about here?” I point to my breasts.
“Hospitalised for sure,” he replies, eyes now glued to my boobs.
“What about here?” I point to the V between my thighs.
“Stone-cold f*cking dead. You belong to me, Tru.” He lifts my skirt and puts his hand to the very place I just pointed to. “No one touches you but me.”
He presses his fingers into my panties. Into me.
Heat consumes my body, firing through me.
He’s f*cked other women here.
I step back, letting his hand fall away.
“What’s wrong?” He looks confused.
“Nothing…” I glance around, looking for my excuse. “It’s just…Stuart might come back.”
I wonder if he’s ever had sex in the kitchen. Probably. Knowing Jake, he’ll have utilised every room in this house.
The very thought makes me want to throw up.
My fingers curl into my hand, my nails biting into my skin.
“He won’t come back.” Jake hooks his fingers into my T-shirt and reels me back in.
He starts to kiss my neck, his other hand grabbing my ass, pulling me closer to him.
Crap, he’s hard. But then, Jake’s always hard.
I close my eyes and try to get into it. The feel of him pressed up against me. His hard body. His masculine scent.
But all I can see in my mind is a preconceived image of Jake with another woman. Him doing exactly what he’s doing to me, to her, right here.
I wriggle out of his embrace.
He sighs, and his darkened eyes meet mine. “Okay, what the f*ck’s going on?”
“Nothing.” My voice has gone squeaky. Traitor voice.
“Tru?”
I glance down at my feet. “I just…” I bite my lip.
“You just, what?” There’s no happy in his tone.
“I just feel weird having sex in your house.”
“You mean our house.” His eyebrow lifts. “And why? Because Stuart lives here?”
“No. Because of all the women you’ve f*cked here.” Okay, so that didn’t come out exactly as I had intended.
I look up, meeting his eyes, biting my lip, hard.
Jake’s face is a mask.
I also note he doesn’t deny that he’s screwed other women here.
I know it was a long shot, but I was harbouring a tiny flicker of hope that maybe he’d never brought a woman back here.
Stupid, right?
Sighing, he shoves a hand through his black hair.
I move farther away, increasing the gap between us, and lean against the counter. “How many women have you had here?”
“Do you really want me to answer that question?” His eyes burn into mine, waiting.
Looking away, I focus on the wall. I fiddle with the hem of my T-shirt.
Do I really want to know?
The sadistic side of me does. Thankfully self-preservation wins out.
“No.” I shake my head.
Pushing off the counter, I start to walk away. I just want to go to bed, sleep, and leave this conversation behind.
“Where are you going?”
I stop by the archway and turn back to him. “To bed. It’s okay, Jake. I get your past, I do…sort of.” I drag my fingers through my hair. “And I know there’s nothing you can do to change it, no matter how much I may wish it. But I can’t pretend that at times it doesn’t bother me…affect me.” I point. “Out there, I can cope with it, mostly…but in here, our home…just knowing that you’ve been…with hundreds of women…here.” I try to shake the sick-inducing images out of my mind.
“It’s not hundreds.”
“What?”
“I haven’t brought hundreds of women here.”
“Thanks for the clarification.” My tone is sharper than I mean it to be. “Look, however many it is, it’s more than one, and that’s enough to have me feeling like this. I just need a little time to figure out how to get around it—being here, knowing that. And don’t think I’m punishing you because of your past, because I’m not. It’s just my own jealousy and insecurities getting the better of me. Just give me time to figure out how to get past it, okay?”
I can see his hands curled around the edge of the stool, knuckles white from the intensity of his grip. He looks like he is having to physically restrain himself from coming over to me. I can almost smell his need to touch me in the air, floating around me like a physical presence.
I need to touch him too. Just without these images in my head.
“Okay,” he sighs. He sounds defeated. “I’ll follow you up to bed in a minute.”
Leaving him where he sits, I go upstairs, get dressed for bed, and brush my teeth. When I reemerge from the bathroom, there’s still no sign of Jake.
Turning off the light, I climb in bed, and for the first night in a long time, I fall asleep without Jake beside me.