“Yeah, flower. When you smile at me like that, I’d do pretty much anything you wanted.”
“Good to know.”
“Yeah. Probably shouldn’t have told you that.”
Willow sent Luke the image he wanted and loaded the picture she intended to use into her scheduler app for all platforms. “Ready?” she asked.
Luke put his finger over hers and they clicked the button together.
“You still want to go out for dinner?” Luke asked.
Willow stood. “I do.”
“Good. I ordered a ride.”
A few moments later, they were seated inside. Unable to resist, she pulled out her phone and checked their status, scrolling through the comments that were already beginning to appear. Happy comments. Likes.
After a few minutes, a notification from Luke’s user ID appeared.
She clicked on the post he’d tagged her in. It was the image of the two of them laughing.
New release coming mid-November. #duototrio #willowsdilf
A notification of a private message from Luke appeared at the top of her screen. Unable to bite it back, she grinned and opened the text.
Join me at The Ivy instead of hanging out online?
She turned off her phone, slid it into her purse, and turned to face him. “You’re my dilf?”
“Well, you wanted to fuck me, I’m your baby daddy so . . .”
“I thought you hated posting online.”
Luke placed his hand on the back of the car seat and twirled a piece of her hair around his finger. “I don’t want anybody else to control my narrative any more than you do. And this felt like the kind of news I want to tell the world myself. Not a newspaper, or a press release, or even you. It won’t be a regular thing, though.”
Luke’s phone began to buzz, the messages appearing on the screen.
“Do you need to check those?”
Luke shook his head. “Nope.”
“What if it’s important?”
“More important than having an honest conversation with you and Cletus in the back of this car?”
“When you put it like that . . . But I’m worried. What if your fans don’t like the news? What will that do—”
“You worry too much.” Luke lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “Just enjoy tonight, flower. It’s the only moment that matters.”
13
Eleven days later, Luke wandered into the spare room to find Willow editing a video of their trip to the doctor. He still found it a little strange that so much of their life was online.
But it was working.
At least, by Willow’s measures of success.
There had been some fallout. She’d lost about ten thousand followers. And there had been comments about her being a poor example, some threats about her going to hell for having sex outside of marriage, and some mutterings about how he was borderline satanic and a bad influence.
But the majority had been hugely supportive.
Only one of her collaborations had cancelled. A makeup brand targeted to late teens to early twenties. But Willow had mentioned that her father had set up the collaboration, and that while it was a good product, she didn’t particularly love the colour palettes, and she’d never endorse something she didn’t think was good.
Surrounding her were three planners, all colour coded, and a stack of books he assumed were aimed at female entrepreneurs. Words like boss, rich, and life. Coloured stickie notes stuck out everywhere.
“Do you ever rest, flower?” He placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed his thumbs into her tight muscles.
Willow groaned and tipped her chin forward so he could dig in even harder. “The dream is free. Hustle is not.”
He kissed the side of her neck. “Don’t sit at this desk all day,” he said.
“I’m not going to. I’m going for a massage with Iz and Chaya at some Thai massage place they know in Didsbury Village that’s apparently awesome. They even checked they had someone who understood pregnancy massage, so I’m all set.”
“I like that you’ve made friends here.”
Willow looked up at him and smiled. “Is that your polite way of saying I hang around you too much?”
Luke slid his arms around her neck, allowing his hands to slide over her breasts that looked particularly full that morning. “No. It’s my way of saying you’ll be here for a long time, and I’ll be away for chunks of it. It’s good to know you have friends to look out for you and spend time with so you’re not lonely.”
“Well, you should know that the next time you are away, we’re all going for a sleepover at Cerys and Zoe’s.”
He kissed her cheek. “If there’s going to be pillow fights in underwear, I’m coming over.”
Somehow, she managed to stand and turn around without dipping out from under his arms. “There will be virgin cocktails, gossip, and no men.”
“Damn it.” He kissed her lips. Couldn’t get enough of them. They’d had sex . . . which had felt scarily like making love . . . more times than he could count since they’d got back from London two weeks earlier. Now, he wanted her again, but he caught sight of the time on her laptop. “Shit. I have to go. And I just got the email with my test results. All clear.”
Willow grinned. “A quickie?”
He kissed her again. “Would love to, but I don’t want to rush the first time I really get to feel you, and Ben just messaged that he’s leaving his house now. He’ll be outside in ninety seconds.”
“Enjoy yourself.” She ran her palms down his biceps.
“I will. I made you breakfast. One of those parfaits you like. And I added chocolate chips, because I know you’ve been adding them when my back’s turned.”
“Mmm.” The sound Willow made caused him to regret the time.
“Don’t groan like that.”
“I don’t know what it is, but I want chocolate and strawberries together all the time. I even sliced up strawberries and carved up a Snickers bar and ate them together. It was like Snickers crackers and berries.”
“That sounds bobbins, flower.”
“Bobbins?”
“Rubbish. Awful. Grim. Gross.”
“Bobbins,” Willow repeated. “I like it.”
“Yeah, well. The fact I have to let go of you and leave is total and utter bobbins, too.” He pulled her in for a kiss. A quick one that heated swiftly. He cupped her arse, holding her close, then let go with a playful growl against her neck. “See you later.”
An hour later, Parker Moseley pushed the door to a large warehouse space open. “Welcome to your first proper tour rehearsal.”
Luke stopped, wide eyed.
“Holy shit,” Alex said, putting words to Luke’s own feelings.
“It’s a proper fucking stage,” Jase said.
Ben shoved his hair back off his face. “With a whole bunch of shit I’m bound to trip over.”
Ed, their tour manager, hurried over. “Guys, before I forget. Here are copies of the detailed itinerary. It’s all been emailed to you and put in the tour calendar. There are a number of times associated on each day. You’ll have collection time from the hotel. Sound check, which you no longer need to attend. A ten-minute warning. Pick up from the arena. Whether you are staying on the coach, heading to the hotel. Or whether it’s a media day or mandatory day off.”