But dammit. Mom’s got fangs when it comes to the women in our lives. And I’m not going to let her sink them into Alexis.
“Brendan invited us up for dinner the other day. Jonathan and Gabby flew into town for it too.”
She hums again. “Yes. They came to see me. Of course they only stayed an hour.” She sounds like she’s pouting. I don’t know why, though. Even if she’s not actively awful to Gabby now, she’s never been overly welcoming. And Gabby wouldn’t trust it even if she were. And who can blame her? Mom tried her hardest to get Gabby and Jonathan to break up.
And while she wasn’t quite as awful to Lauren, the story I heard included her offering money to Lauren to divorce my brother. Or maybe she was just planning to? Every time they talk about it, they get too angry to be coherent so it’s hard to parse out the exact details. And of course Mom’s version of the story isn’t all that trustworthy. According to her, she’s the innocent victim just trying to protect her precious baby boys.
Which is all the more reason to keep Alexis far away from her.
“But I must admit, I’m intrigued,” she continues. “I thought whatever scheme you’d hatched with this girl would’ve blown up in your face by now, but your brothers seem to think that she’s the real thing. I’d like to meet her.”
Hell no. Everything in me is screaming at me to say the words and not just think them. But that wouldn’t go over well. And I really just want to get off the phone, and outright refusal would turn this into a much longer conversation. “I’ll talk to Alexis and see when there’s room in our schedule.”
Mom sniffs. “I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.”
“I suppose it is.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Alexis
I’m floating in a cloud of perfection. While I know that nothing will feel this perfect forever, I’m going to hang onto this feeling as long as possible.
Things with Colt are better than ever. We played another show this last weekend and even got reviewed in the music section of The Banner. They loved us and said they can’t wait to see what we do next. Plus we have more shows booked, the time in Brendan’s studio that after meeting him and seeing his setup, I’m more excited about than ever, and I just finished up meeting with the head of the A&R department at Spellbound.
They don’t have the distribution that Bad Wolf does, but they’re also more willing to let me have more creative control. Delores is excited because she thinks we can leverage it for a better offer from someone else.
I’m honestly excited about the offer itself. And depending on if or what any of the bigger labels has to offer, I might be willing to forgo some of their side perks for the benefits of more control. Then I might not end up in this same situation at some point in the future where I’m hemmed into a scenario with only shitty choices that all ended up with me losing my band and my contract.
I’ve got power now, and I’m feeling on top of the world.
And when I get home, Colt’s only got more good news. “Hey!” He stands from the couch with a smile on his face and crosses the room to wrap me up in a hug and a fierce kiss. “You’ll never guess who I just got off the phone with.”
“Who?” I don’t even bother to try. I suck at guessing games anyway. All I know is that it wasn’t his mom, because last week he was in a foul mood after taking a call from her while I was meeting with Delores. It took hours and a full regimen of comfort food, slow, sweet sex, and a slapstick comedy marathon to pull him out of his funk. And even then, he wasn’t really back to his usual upbeat self until the next day.
“Stephanie Fowler from The Independent. They want to do a feature on us for the Arts section.”
My eyes grow wide. This day just keeps getting better. “What? That’s amazing.”
“She wants to interview us backstage before our next show. Is that okay? I gave her a tentative yes, but if that’s too stressful pre-performance, we can move it to after. Or another day entirely.”
I’m already shaking my head before he finishes. “No, no, don’t move it. Before the show is fine as long as I have at least a little bit of time to get prepped.”
He squeezes me again, picking me up so my feet dangle even with his shins, and laughter bubbles out of me, pure happiness. Finally. Things are working out on every front.
He kisses me again before putting me back down. “It’s actually happening,” he whispers, his voice reverent and full of awe. “I can’t quite believe it, you know?”
Cupping his cheeks with my hands, I look into his beautiful eyes. “It’s happening. And no one deserves it more than you. You’ve worked hard for this. And now you’re making it happen.”
His gaze softens. “I couldn’t do any of it without you.”
“Me either,” I whisper back and pull his lips back to mine. This kiss is softer, slower, but no less full of emotion as his tongue slips past my lips and his hands grip my waist, pulling me closer, grinding his hardness into my belly.
He’s as insatiable as I am. I don’t know why I ever thought resisting this was a good idea. Things have only gotten better since we started screwing each other’s brains out. I’ve never been happier. Who would’ve thought that a fake relationship turned marriage to improve my reputation would become a love story for the ages?
He backs up, pulling me with him, until we’re on the couch with me straddling his lap, grinding on his dick through our clothes. His grip on my hips encourages and guides me, moving me where and how he wants, and I fucking love it. I love him.
“I love you,” I breathe, the words needing to be said. Reaffirmed.
His eyes peel open, and a dopey smile claims his lips. “I love you too. You’re so amazing, Alexis. I want to spend the rest of my life just like this.”
With a soft chuckle, I lean forward and kiss him. “Good thing we already said, ‘I do,’ isn’t it?”
“Too right,” he groans, his hands shoving into my pants to get at my bare skin. “God, I hate your fucking clothes right now.”
Laughing, I push my way off him. “Then let’s get rid of them.”
His eyes dark, he licks his lower lip as he watches me strip. “We should make a rule. No clothes in the house.”
Still chuckling, I nod at his gray sweatpants that do nothing to conceal his raging hard-on. “You’re breaking your own rule, then.”
He lifts his hips and shoves down his sweatpants, leaving his long, hard dick bare and ready for me. As he kicks his pants off his feet, he grips his cock at the base, thrusting up into his own hand, and I can’t help drooling at the image he makes sitting there, staring at me as I finish undressing, so hard and impatient he’s fucking his own fist. Sloooowly. Each stroke is agonizingly slow. He’s holding back, as evidenced by the set of his jaw and the way the tendons in his neck pop out.
Damn, he makes a pretty picture with that messy blond hair, those piercing blue eyes hazy with lust and longing.
“I love when you look at me like that,” I tell him.
“Like what?” he grinds out.