Authors: Heather Leigh
“We shouldn’t be discussing this on the s
treet, Adam. It’s inappropriate.” I spin on my heel and continue walking home.
“You’re right, we should be discussing it in private like adults,” he snaps back at me
, still relentlessly following me.
“Why Adam? Why do we need to discuss this? What’s it to you?”
I catch sight of Adams gorgeous face as it falls, a look of uncharacteristic sadness displayed.
“My life fell apart too Sydney. I lost my girlfrien
d. My good friend was attacked by a psycho and in hospital. Untruths about me were printed in magazines regarding my friend and our relationship. My ex-girlfriend turned out to be the biggest trollop and liar I’ve ever met,” he pauses, “but you’re right, there’s probably no need to talk.”
I stop i
n front of my building and sigh, staring up at the cloudless August sky for a moment, then back at Adam. He’s right. I’m not the only one who was affected by all of the shit that went down.
“Fine, we’ll talk. One hour Adam, then I really do have stuff to get done.” I wait for his reaction.
His miserable expression brightens and he gladly follows me into my building.
This is probably the worst idea ever, I think to myself as I greet Richard, my doorman.
Could anyone be luckier than me right now? Currently, I’m watching my fiancé, shirtless and wearing only a pair of camouflage pants and army boots, as he has his picture taken for the cover of some entertainment magazine. His tan torso is rippling under the bright studio lights, every mouth-watering muscle perfectly defined for my viewing pleasure.
God he’s so fucking hot
.
Everyone here knows it too. There aren’t that many people in the Midtown studio, but those that are
, can’t take their eyes off of Drew. The runaway success of
A Soldier’s Burden
has led to a lot of late and unexpected press for the tiny independent film.
When Drew snea
ks a look over at me and smiles, my heart sputters in my chest. I swear, if you could hear a woman swoon, this room would be so loud right now we would need earplugs. And all of the dreamy eyes are watching him flirt with me. I curl my left hand into a fist and feel the giant diamond pressing into my palm. I hold my hand up for Drew to see, so he knows that I’m thinking about us. I get a wink in return.
Jesus, I’m going to combust.
I feel unbelievably guilty about letting Adam come over earlier today. He only stayed about thirty minutes before I hustled him out, not wanting to give him a reason to think I was leading him on or anything. Talking about everything did make me feel better, knowing that he went through some bad shit because of Kiera as well. Plus, it was nice just hanging out with a friend.
Unfortunately, I met Drew here at the photographer’s studio, so I haven’t had a chance to tell him about Adam yet. He’s going to blow a freaking gasket when I tell him. I’ve never seen Adam act anything other than polite, maybe a little flirty, but that’s it. The way Drew tells it, Adam is the biggest douche on the planet. I’m not eager to let him know that the ‘giant fuckwad’ as Drew colorfully describes him, was in my loft today.
We’re going from here straight to an industry party a few blocks over. I would rather do anything other than go to this thing, but Drew said he has to make an appearance and begged me to go with him so he wouldn’t be bored out of his skull. It’s a 50
th
anniversary party for some screenwriters something or other, and one of his favorite writers is being honored.
So here I am, waiting for Drew to finish taking sexy soldier shots and making women’s panties combust.
The good thing is that he sweet-talked the makeup and hair people for the shoot into getting me ready, so all I have to do is slip my dress on when he’s done.
“Hey gorgeous, are you ready?” Drew startles me by whispering in my ear. I was too busy thinking of ways to tell him that I saw Adam today and didn’t notice that
Drew was standing right next to me.
Burning heat
rushes to my face in what I’m certain is an obvious blush, the result of feeling guilty for where my mind was. When Drew slips his arms around me and pulls me up against his naked torso, everything I wanted to say flies right out of my head.
“Hey you. B
ack to your day job of melting panties?” I ask.
He leans down and
I let him kiss me in front of all of the people left in the studio, something I normally don’t allow. I like to keep the few things left that we have managed to keep between us, private. As much as I grew up in the public eye, I’ve come to loathe having people look at me, especially doing something as intimate as kissing someone I love.
“I’m only interested if yours are melting,” he
whispers in my ear, then takes my hand and leads me back to his dressing room to get changed, leaving jealous women in our wake.
He pulls me in and shuts the door beh
ind us as I cross the room to get my dress. Before I can take two steps, Drew darts in front of me and blocks my path. Face to face with his perfectly sculpted chest I suck in a breath and press my thighs together in an attempt to stop my body from responding.
“Well?”
His smoldering eyes are looking me up and down as if he wants to throw me on the tiny couch and bury inside me.
“Well what?” I croak, barely able to make a sound wh
en he’s looking at me like that.
He cups the back of my neck with h
is large warm hand and leans in. “Have your panties melted yet?”
Holy shit!
He does want to throw me onto the couch and bury himself inside me!
“Ummm.
” I shift uncomfortably, knowing that if not melted, my panties are most certainly damp.
He silences me by devouring my mouth with his, sliding his insistent tongue against my lips until I open for him. Diving in, he coaxes his mouth with mine, stroking me
slowly with his tongue, showing me what he wants to do to a different part of me.
I try to protest when his rough hand traces up my thigh and under my lightweight summer dress, finding my hot core. He moans against my lips when he reaches his goal, pushing my panties aside
and sliding a finger across me. “You’re so fucking wet.”
Drew pushes away from me and grabs the hem of my dress, ready to pull it off.
“What are you doing?” I sound more prudish than I intended.
“I’m going to take you right here, then we’re going to a party
,” he says simply. I see hot desire burning in his glittering green eyes. Drew begins to lift my dress again.
“Drew, someone could walk in here,” I
whine pathetically, knowing full well that he can tell I want this just as much as he does.
He moves close again, his body heat searing me through my thin dress. Drew clutches the sides of my face and kisses me until I’m too weak to move. His hands drop and I feel them skim up the outsides of my legs and under my skirt again. “No one’s coming in here. I’d never let anyone get that close to you. Besides, I locked the door
.” I can feel him smile against my ear as he grips both sides of my lace panties and pulls, tearing them in half.
“Drew!” I try to get angry but before I can say a word, he’s backed me up to the couch and pushed me down. He drops to his knees and forces my legs apart with his body. When I feel his hot tongue touch the tiny bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs I
almost jump off of the couch, squealing in pleasure.
Drew takes his hands and holds my hips down forcefully, his long fingers digging into my skin as he works his mouth over every single wet fold. My lower half
quickly begins overheating, succumbing to his relentless mouth. I pant uncontrollably, wanting to squirm and buck from his talented tongue, but he’s stronger than me and holds me still so he can continue his torture.
W
hen I can’t take anymore, he inserts two fingers into my wet heat and I explode around him in an orgasm so powerful that I think I see stars.
“Shhhh, babe. Not so loud if you don’t want
anyone to know what we’re up to.” He stands up and strips off his pants and combat boots.
I don’t even care who hear
s us right now he has me so worked up. “I need you,” I pant as I writhe on the cushions, feeling empty, needing what only Drew can give me.
“Fuck, you look so hot,” he growls. I rake my eyes over his perfect physique, letting my gaze
linger on his thick erection. Drew grabs my hands and holds them over my head on the back of the couch and enters me in one deep stroke, his hard body pressing me down into the cushions.
I
make incoherent noises as he begins to thrust hard and fast, not holding anything back. This isn’t the time for lingering kisses and slowly making love. We’re consumed with fire, desperate and frantic in our animalistic fucking.
“You’re mine Sydney,” he says as he locks eyes with me, his face one of pure devotion.
“Yes, yours,” I respond between fast breaths.
“Only mine
.” His hand touches my engagement ring as he holds me prisoner against the couch with his strength and his heavy body.
“Yes
.”
I feel the rapid crest of another orgasm building deep within me and shiver under his dark gaze. “Come with me baby,” he groans as he increases the already unbearable pace. I fall over the edge and succumb to the waves of pleasure that crash over me. Drew joins me and lifts my hips off of the couch so he can fill me as deep as possible
as he comes inside me.
I lie
back on the couch as Drew collapses next to me, both of us breathing heavily from our intense session. After resting for a couple of minutes to regain my composure I turn and push his thick hair off of his sweaty forehead. “What was all of that about?”
“Wha
t about? The hot sex?” I know that he understands what I’m asking, he’s playing dumb.
“The possessive talk,” I say quietly. He doesn’t really think that I’d ever look at anyone else, does he?
He grins, but it doesn’t seem genuine. “It’s just talk babe.” He jumps up and walks over to the clothing rack, completely naked, and grabs his suit. “We should get going, we don’t want to be too late.”
“Okaaaay.
” If he thinks I’m going to forget about this, then he’s crazy.
After cleaning up,
I shimmy into my cocktail dress and touch up my makeup as he finishes with his tie. “By the way,” I say as I slip on my heels and walk over to him. “That was my only pair of panties.”
I turn and head for the door and am rewarded with the sound of him groaning and a low curse word.
Bruce pulls up in front of the event site, a trendy nightclub in Midtown called Circle 8. Steve jumps out to wait for us as a well-dressed young man opens our door.
I hate red carpets. A lot. They’re loud, crowded and stressful, with everyone yelling at you at once and you’re so blinded by flashbulbs that you can’t see where you’re going.
“You okay?” Drew turns to watch me as the car comes to a stop.
Of co
urse he noticed my hesitation. He can always tell how I’m feeling just by looking at my face. It can be really irritating sometimes. “I’m fine babe, let’s just get this over with.” I check to make sure my ring is on backwards and smooth down my hair. I see Drew frown and glance at my left hand, but he doesn’t say anything.
He gets out and stretches a hand toward me, standing in front of the car door so I don’t flash the photogs a view of my pantyless state. I put my left hand in his right so he can hide my ring for me as we walk. When I stand up we’re
immediately assaulted by a frenzy of flashbulbs. My heart sinks when I realize that this isn’t even half as large as the crowd will be at my dad’s premiere on Thursday.
I cling to Drew’s hand so I won’t trip in my stilettos and he turns to look at me, smiling for the cameras. I look up and see that he’s genuinely smiling at me, not just for our audience, and I can’t help but grin back at him. I
start to think about the things his talented mouth was doing just a short while ago and a giggle escapes me.
“What?” he leans in
close and asks me.
I press my lips to his lowered ear.
“I’m not wearing panties right now, and I’m thinking about how your hot body was on top of mine not even one hour ago.”
I feel his hand squeeze mine a little too hard and he freezes for a moment. I
stand up straight and smile for the cameras, letting him think about that for a while.
“You’re going to pay for that later,” he
rasps, barely audible over the yelling of the paparazzi. His threat makes the blood flow to all of the places he touched not that long ago, making me squirm with desire again. Having no idea what his words just did to me, Drew tugs on my hand and we start to walk, Steve following behind us like a big, scary shadow.
We’re directed to a place along the carpet, next to an overly made-up blonde who clearly doesn’t eat enough food. She gives me a huge, fake smile and turns to Drew, looking him up and down in an inappropriate manner. I’m used to women eye-fucking my guy so I could care less, but she could at least be less obvious and more professional about it. She asks him some ridiculous questions about pointless stuff and we move on.
The next group of reporters, if you can even call them reporters, tosses questions at us one after the other to the point where they all blend together in a dull roar. Still half-blind from the continuous flashing lights I stick close to Drew, posing and smiling until my cheeks are cramping. As we pass the rowdy group, I can make out some of the things that they’re asking.
“Andrew, are you excited by the success of
A Soldier’s Burden
?”
“Sydney, is it true that you’re moving with Andrew to Boston?”
“Are you suing Kiera Radcliff for emotional distress?”
“How’s the investigation into the wiretapping going?”
“Sydney, why was Adam Reynolds seen leaving your apartment today?”
Fuck!
I freeze in place on the red carpet, holding my breath and praying that Drew didn’t hear that last question. My instinct is telling me to run like hell back to the car and leave, but I don’t have that option. Instead, I force a smile on my face and follow Drew through the throng of partygoers.
He
just about drags me into the club, not stopping until we reach the end of a dark hallway near the front doors. Once there, Drew lets go of my hand and walks back toward the entrance, murmuring something to Steve. I’m guessing it’s along the lines of
‘don’t let anyone come down here’
.
When he turns and
stalks back toward me, I can feel the anger radiating off of his body. His shoulders are tight, his eyes are cold, and his fists are clenched. There’s no doubt that he heard the comment about Adam, and it looks as though Angry Drew has made an untimely appearance.
“What the fuck was that Sydney? Was
that sick fuck Reynolds in your loft today?” His hostility makes me cringe back against the wall.
“Don’t yell at me,” I say as calmly as I can manage, my hands shaking
from his intimidating stare.
Drew huffs out a huge breath and pinches the bridge of his nose
, attempting to rein in his fury. He drops his hand and looks right at me. “Did you see Adam Reynolds today?” His tone is only slightly more controlled than before.
“Can this wait until …”
“No, it can’t!”
“Yes, I saw him but it wasn’t …”
“Fuck Sydney!” I notice him curling his fists and scanning the hallway, looking for something to punch.
Stepping forward, I grab his left hand, unwilling to let him damage it like he did in London. He was so pissed off that he punched the wall of our hotel room, breaking a bone in his hand. “No Drew. You’re not going to hurt yourself.
We’ll leave and we can talk about this.”
He shakes my hand off and stares at the ceiling, the muscles in his jaw clenching
from stress. “I’m not leaving. You go, I’ll be back later.”
He turns t
o walk away and I reach for him. “I don’t want to leave you here.” I’m freaking out, my heart thumping in my chest from him dismissing me so easily.
Drew snatches my hand and looks at my ring, turned towards my palm as usual so the paparazzi won’t see it.
He drops it and turns to leave. “I don’t want you to stay.” He walks away, leaving me standing in a dark hallway in some random nightclub.
He’s
not pissed, he’s hurt. It’s not Drew’s style to push me away. Tears threaten to fall and I choke back a sob. I can’t lose it here, I’ll never stop once I start.
I compose myself the best I can, wiping away the few tears that
have spilled out and calming myself down before stepping out from the hallway. I stop short of the end, spotting Steve at the entrance, waiting for me to emerge. I’m so fucking sick of having someone overhear every conversation and vulnerable moment that I have.
Angry and embarrassed, I want to ditch Steve and Bruce and walk around the city for a while to organize my thoughts. The reality is
, unfortunately, that I’m wearing a two thousand dollar dress with four-inch stilettos and there are reporters out there who would gladly chase me if I left here on foot.
I accept my fa
te and step out of the hallway, over to the front doors of the nightclub. Steve hops into action and opens the door for me, looking around outside for potential threats. His over-protectiveness, certainly at the request of Drew, does nothing but make me supremely irritated right now.
I paste on the biggest fake smile I can manage, which I admit isn’t much, and head back down the red carpet. Guests are still arriving, so I have to dodge the newcomers and avoid the paparazzi at the same time. Steve stays close behind, warding off wayward reporters. Of course, they notice me immediately.
“Sydney! Are you feeling okay?”
“Sydney, why are you leaving already?”
“Are you sneaking out to visit Adam Reynolds?”
“Where’s Andrew?
Jesus, these people just don’t know when to stop!
For a minute the thought crosses my mind to stop and actually tell these vultures the truth about Adam. Then my senses return and I walk right past them, knowing that anything I say will just be warped into a web of complete bullshit.
Drew must have had Steve call Bruce to pull the car around, because he’s waiting for me at the curb, holding the door open. “Thank you Bruce.” My voice is wavering despite my attempts to control it. I hop in and miraculously, I’m able to hold back the tears until I get to the safety of my eight floor loft.
Once
inside I yank off the dress, tossing it into the corner of the closet. My emotions are tipping in every direction. I’m mad at myself for letting Adam get to me, mad at the reporters for following me everywhere, and mad at Drew for staying at the party without me.
Exhaling, I decide to go for a run. It’s the only way
I know to calm down and think everything through without freaking out. I pull on my clothes and running shoes and strap my iPhone onto my arm. I’m careful to tuck my hair up into my hat before leaving the building, hitting the sidewalk and setting out into the city.
Luckily, Steve went back to the club with Bruce to
wait for Drew, probably not thinking that I’d leave my loft. I can’t deal with a shadow right now, and Steve was wearing a nice suit. He wouldn’t have wanted me to go running since he wouldn’t be able to follow. An hour and a half later and I haven’t figured out a thing. I won’t be able to work it out until Drew gets back and he talks to me.
I strip off my running clothes and jump into the shower, vigorously scrubbing off all of the sweat and hair products until my skin is bright pink under the scalding hot water. Exhausted, I slump down onto the tile floor and
sit there until my skin wrinkles up.
I have no idea what time it is when I drag myself from the bathroom and pull on my tank top and
boy shorts. I refuse to look at the clock, not wanting to know how late Drew is staying out, if he even comes back tonight at all.
He wouldn’t do that, would he?
Trudging down the hall to the kitchen, I grab a bottle of wine and pour myself a glass. My hands are shaking so much that I almost drop the bottle as I try to put the cork back in. I eventually give up and just leave the bottle on the counter, corkless, and head into my home office. I down half the glass and place it on my desk as I boot up my laptop.
This is probably the second worst idea I’ve had today, the first was allowing Adam to come upstairs.
I bring up Google and type in my name and Adam’s name together.
Sydney Tannen Adam Reynolds
Enter
Shit
, there are a ton of results. Just over
5 million
results to be more specific. I click on the most recent news event dated six hours ago.
Adam Reynolds Spotted Getting Cozy in New York with Sydney Tannen
After spending the spring in London with Adam Reynolds and the summer in New York City with Andrew Forrester, Sydney Tannen was seen walking the streets of the West Village with Sphere of Irony frontman Adam Reynolds today as they headed to her loft for a private rendezvous.
Photos captured of the couple show that some moments were tender, and others made it seem as though they were possibly arguing about something or someone. Maybe Reynolds is jealous that Tannen has still been seeing Hollywood Hunk and A Soldier’s Burden star Andrew Forrester?
This girl really needs to stop stringing these two sexy men along and just pick one already! We were unable to reach reps for either Forrester or Tannen, Reynolds rep simply responded with ‘no comment’. We’ll be watching to see how this love triangle pans out.
I scroll down and see dozens of photos of Adam and me from this afternoon. When he grabbed my hand outside of the café, it looks like we’re holding hands. When he guided me around the street performer, the photographer makes it seem like an intimate moment. Another photo shows that I’m pissed off when we stand outside my building and argue about Adam’s right to have an opinion on the whole Kiera situation, and so is Adam.
Great, I’m the Jezebel of Hollywood now. Fucking everyone I’m photographed with and toying with their hearts. What bullshit!
I close the browser and lay my head on my desk, overwhelmed by the viciousness of the media. I should have just let Bruce drive me home. Leah’s right, I’m a stubborn ass and obviously have some sort of secret desire to sabotage my relationship with Drew.
Picking up my head I finish my glass of wine
, letting the warmth of the alcohol spread through my body. As I walk into my bedroom, I get angrier and angrier the more I think about Drew’s reaction at the club. I didn’t flip out when he had to simulate sex with that skanky liar Kiera Radcliff! Or when he went to her hotel room in Vancouver to confront her and all of the media outlets painted it to look like he was cheating on me with her!
We’re fucking engaged for God’s sake! He knows there’s nothing going on with Adam, so what the hell is his problem?
Wonderful!
Now I’ve managed to make myself even more than just angry, I’m livid. I’m not sure which feeling is worse, wanting to dive into bed and cry for three days
Sydney-style, or wanting to scream and throw things and have a giant Drew-like tantrum.
I stomp around my bedroom and
glance at the bedside table, three fucking am! How dare he make me worry like this! I have no idea what to do, cry or throw? Looking down at the wine glass in my hand I decide to try something new since crying never makes me feel any better. Using all of my strength, I hurl the glass down the hall and it explodes against the wall next to the front door, just as a startled Drew comes through it.