8. A Big, Bold, Beautiful Something

A BIG, BOLD, BEAUTIFUL SOMETHING

T he front porch is a little small, and it's cold outside, so it’s not exactly ideal conditions for a workout, but if I don't do something physical right now to burn off this anger, I'm gonna snap.

I clean the snow off the porch and grab my two heaviest bells from the workshop. After a short warmup, I start with presses until my arms are burning, and I can't get the bells overhead anymore. I rest for a minute or so, panting, and then re-rack both bells and squat until my legs turn to jelly. I rest again and then swing both bells until my lungs are on fire. It's not until I'm done working out and cooling off in the workshop that I let myself process what I'm feeling.

I almost lost my temper in the store. I didn’t, so I have to give myself that win, but it was close. I was so relieved when Lily jumped in and rescued me that it took me a moment to react. But that's the problem: I shouldn't have had to be rescued by her . It was a shitty situation, and I put her in it.

On top of that, she's questioning the status of the situation. Wondering what our relationship is. Honestly, so am I. The ink on my divorce papers is still wet, for fuck's sake.

But Lilith is…fucking magical.

Her being jealous of that woman who was all over me? Fucking hot. Why is that hot? I try to imagine if the situation was reversed—if she was famous and some guy had his hands on her while taking a selfie. I'd rip his arms off and beat him to death with them. Or, I'd want to. Probably threaten to. God, that'd be bad. Can you imagine the headlines? “B-list action movie actor bludgeons fan to death with his own arms. More at eleven."

What are we, though? I know she said she doesn't need labels or promises. But she does deserve some sort of clarity. I just don't know what that is. I genuinely don’t know what I'm going to do after the holidays. I no longer have a home. All my shit is in storage. I have no projects lined up.

I could move to Atlanta. What's stopping me? I’d have to find work, though. Go back to construction? The fame would die out eventually, and I'd just be a former actor. But…is that what she wants? What if this is just a…a fling, for her? What if she doesn’t want a relationship? Do I? I just got out of a toxic marriage and a brutal divorce. Is this a rebound? How do you know if it's a rebound or if it's the real thing? What even is the real thing?

What Nathan and Nadia have, that's what.

Lasting love. Mutual respect. Honesty. Consideration. Compassion. Passion.

We’ve got the last one down, that's for sure.

Have I ever felt this way about anyone? Not even remotely. Compared to the way things are with Lily, the sex with Vivian wasn't even that good. It seemed great at the time, but now, looking back, I understand that she was always playing a game. Playing me. Playing a part to get what she wanted. She manipulated the hell out of me, and I fell for it like a world-class sucker. For fuck's sake, she gave me blow jobs every day for a week and then "randomly" dragged me into a Birkin store after a fancy dinner. I whipped out that credit card faster than you can say "loser."

When she wanted me to sell my West Hollywood condo and buy a mansion in the Hills, she began the campaign with sex. Dressing in lingerie all the time. Plying me with liquor when I got home from a shoot and seducing me in the hot tub. It was only after she'd buttered me up for a few weeks that she made her play, showing me a house she'd “happened” across.

And I never fucking saw any of it.

Not until after, when it was too late.

Lily is different. She's genuine and honest. She's successful in her own right and sure as hell doesn't need me or my money—that I don’t have. The house sales took care of my bills, and I do have a little bit to live off of until I figure out my next move, so I'm not actually broke , but after the way I grew up and then how hard I worked after getting to LA to even have a roof over my head, I get panicky about money.

She just…she sees me. As no one else ever has, she just fucking sees me . She accepts me for who I am, temper and all. And when she climbed on my lap in the parking lot, all that anger just… whooshed out of me. She saw how tense and upset I was and her move was to comfort me. And then she went back into the store and got the stuff we'd left behind because she saw how important it was to me.

I don't deserve her.

But fuck, do I want her in my life.

I've been sitting in the easy chair in front of the cold fireplace, staring into space as I think about things. My eyes fall on the wood-burnt plaque I made her when I first got here. It's not much, and it's kinda dumb, and she'll probably hate it, but I made it for her, so I'm gonna give it to her. It's pretty lame as far as Christmas gifts go, but it's better than nothing. Hopefully, it's still the thought that counts.

I remember seeing a roll of brown parcel paper and a ball of twine in the corner of the back office. I never really learned how to wrap properly—most gifts I give come from expensive stores that do the gift wrapping for you, or I just put it into a bag with some tissue paper. I watch a YouTube video on gift wrapping and try my hand. The first attempt looks like an orangutan got a hold of the scissors, so I rip it off and try again. That attempt looks like the handiwork of a handful of over-sugared kindergarteners. A third try turns out not half bad. Still not good enough, so I try again.

It takes six tries before I'm satisfied. It's still apparent that I'm all thumbs, but it's decent.

I shut the lights off and head back to the main cabin. Lily is in the kitchen, still wearing my slouchy hat over her long blond hair and a long pink apron. The cabin smells like chocolate chip cookies. She's at the counter by the oven, scooping freshly baked cookies off a tray onto a plate.

She hears the door and looks up at me as I enter, a bright smile gracing her features, lighting up the room and making my stomach do backflips. "Hi," she says, lifting a cookie on the spatula. "I baked cookies and didn’t even set anything on fire!"

I laugh. “Good job, babe. They smell amazing."

She sets the last of the cookies on the plate as I approach, the wrapped present behind my back. "Well, they're out of a tube, so don't get too excited. Baby steps, right?"

"Cookies are cookies, whether they're out of a tube or from scratch." I act like I’m grabbing a glass from the cabinet, instead hiding the gift on the top shelf where she can't see it.

When I turn around, she's leaning back against the counter, just looking at me.

"What?" I ask.

She shrugs. “Nothing." She's got a smirk on, though, so something's up. I opt to let it play out. "Feel better after your workout?"

I sigh and nod. "Yeah, quite a bit, actually."

"Good." She sidles toward me, hips swaying, eyes sultry. "I tied this apron too tight. Can you get the knot out?"

“Yeah, sure. Turn around."

She does, and I discover the reason for the smirk: she's naked under the apron. Her bare, beautiful ass peeks out from the edges of the apron, the curves of her back sinuous and intoxicating.

"Fuck, Lily," I groan. "What's this?"

She waits until I unknot the apron—which was tied with a simple bow-knot, meaning the whole thing was a ploy. I lift it off her neck and she tosses it on the counter, then turns around, large, heavy breasts swaying, nipples pink and pert. My cock strains against my jeans.

"I thought maybe you needed a Christmas present to unwrap a little early," she says, pressing herself against me, arms going around my neck.

I fill my hands with her ass—good god, I love her ass. "You sultry, sexy, devilish little minx, you."

"A minx, am I?”

I laugh, exploring the curves of her back. "To be totally honest, I'm not sure what a minx is."

She reaches up and pulls me down to take my mouth in a scorching kiss. "Me either. Whatever I am, it's all for you."

"In nothing but my hat," I murmur, palming her breasts.

"Exactly. I figured there was no better way to cheer you up than fresh cookies and….well, me." She blushes. "Maybe a little presumptuous of me, thinking little ol' me can make you feel better."

"Lilith, I do not deserve the woman that you are. I just don't."

She pushes my sweat-damp T-shirt up, lifting onto her tiptoes to rip it off, and then fumbles with my fly, shoving my jeans down and taking my underwear with them. I kick off my boots, step out of my jeans, and then strip off my socks.

“Reece, you big silly man." She grasps my erection, stroking it as she crushes her breasts against my chest and gazes up at me. "You deserve so much more than you realize.”

"You jumped in and saved me from that situation," I protest. “That's so fucked—it's backward. It's my job to protect you, not the other way around."

She just laughs. "What, because I'm the little woman, I can't protect you from a bunch of overzealous fans?"

"No, I…that's not what I meant."

"Pick me up," she commands.

I scoop her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist, slings an arm around my neck, and lifts up. Reaches between us, guides me to her entrance, and sinks onto me, taking all of me in a slow, smooth slide. She groans, head tipping back.

"Reece, baby, listen to me." She wiggles her hips, taking me deeper, settling lower until I'm so deep inside her it aches; her arms around my neck, fingers in my hair at my nape, she meets my eyes, hers intense and heated. "You keep me safe. You make me feel so protected. But it goes both ways. I'm a strong woman—not physically, maybe, but in other ways. I'm fearless. I'll go up against any lawyer in the country, and I'll kick their ass. I can handle anything your life can throw at me. Crazy fans? Bring 'em on. Nasty exes? I'll cut that bitch down to size faster than she can say 'gold digger.'" She rises, whimpering as my cock slides between her taut-stretched sex. "I'm not afraid—of you or any part of your life. I'll let you take care of me. I'll walk the red carpet with you. I'll deal with paparazzi—I've given my share of interviews for the news—I know it's not the same as paparazzi, but still. I don't need your money. I don’t need you to buy me Birkins. I don't need fancy vacations. I don’t need mansions in the Hills. I would move to LA for you if you wanted. I just…Reece, I just want you in my life. And I want you to know that you can lean on me, too. You can let me protect you in the way that I can. Just like I can trust you to protect me."

I let her hold on to my neck and support her weight with her thighs, using my hands to touch her face, her lips, her cheekbones. I circle her throat with my hand, holding gently, tilting her head back to kiss her jaw, her throat. Still buried inside her but not moving yet, I pull back and look at her, letting her see the emotional burn in my eyes.

"Lily," I whisper. "I never believed in angels till I met you."

"And I never believed I could have real love until I met you." She shakes her head. “I saw what Nathan and Lisa had, and I’ve always wanted it. I just never thought I’d find it. But I have.”

The burn in my eyes turns to a haze, and I blink hard. "Fuck, honey. You're killing me."

Her lips are silk and heat on my eyes as she kisses. "Don't be ashamed of this, Reece," She whispers. "It's beautiful. It's manly. It's strong." More kisses, one eye, the other. "It's real."

"I've never had anyone—" I say, choking on my emotions, my words. "No one I could trust. No one I could depend on."

"Well now you. Me."

"I don't deserve you."

She lifts up once and slides back down, making us both groan. "That's such bullshit , Reece. I don’t wanna hear that ever again. You do deserve me—you deserve us. You're a damn good man. You're kind. You're loving. You're sweet. You're strong—and I’m not talking physical strength because, duh, look at you. You're smart. You're hard-working. You take ownership when you fuck up and try to make it better. You're the most amazing man I know, Reece. I'm proud to know you. I'd be proud to be photographed on your arm. And I'll cut any bitch who tries to put her hands on my man.”

"Your man?"

“ My man." She lifts up. Slides down. "Mine."

"Lily," I breathe.

"Reece," she whispers in my ear. "I want you to fuck me."

I turn and set her on the counter, ass on the edge. She leans back, hands braced behind her, hair spilling out under my hat. Her beautiful tits sway and bounce as I drive into her. "I'm not gonna fuck you, Lilith."

"Sure seems like you are, Reece," she says, pulling at my ass with her heels.

"I'm not fucking you." I pull back, pause, and then thrust into her again—hard, this time.

Over the last couple of weeks, her soreness has faded completely and she’s started encouraging me to be a little rougher. Turns out, my little blonde smokeshow like to be fucked hard.

"No?"

"No."

"Then what, pray tell, are you doing right now?"

“Pray tell?" I ask, laughing.

She giggles, which does incredible things for the motion of her tits. "I thought we were being formal."

"I'm making love to you. Vigorously."

She groans as I slide deep. "Not vigorously enough."

I pick her up and carry her into the bedroom, each step torture as our connection aches and shifts. I kick the door shut and pin her against it and slam into her. She wedges two fingers between our bodies and finds her clit as I fuck her, my hands crushing into her ass. She tips and tilts and rolls her sex on me, gasping and crying out and screaming as her orgasm rips through her.

Once she can breathe again, she pats my shoulder. “Bed—bed, honey. Take me to bed.”

I stagger backward, legs shaking as I grit my teeth and recite lines from old scripts to keep from coming. The edge of the bed hits my knees and I sit, collapsing. She's above me now, taut firm tits smooshed between us, soft as silk and warm, squishing as she rises on her knees and slams down again and again, her mouth on mine, breath hot as she whimpers down my throat.

"Reece, oh god,” she gasps. “I’m gonna come again."

"Give it to me, gorgeous. Let me feel you come around my cock. Scream my name, baby. Show me how good it feels." I grip her ass in my hands and squeeze hard.

I can't move in this position, can't thrust—I have no leverage. It's all her—she's in total control, and I fucking love every second of it. She lifts and sinks on my cock faster and faster, tits bouncing, ass slapping against my thighs, and her teeth bite into my shoulder as she screams. I feel her pussy rippling around me as she comes again, and now I'm gone, unable to hold back and no longer trying. Her arms brace on my shoulders for leverage as she slams down as hard as she can, taking my cock with scream after scream.

Her fingernails dig into my back, sharp points of delicious pain counterpoint to the soul-shattering ecstasy she’s giving me.

I unleash with a throat-searing shout, falling backward to the mattress, hands on her ass, lifting her up and crashing her down, pouring myself inside her in a rush that sends stars bursting behind my eyes, heart slamming a million beats per second, every nerve and synapse blazing and tingling.

Upright above me, Lily keeps riding me even as I shake and shudder helplessly through the aftershocks of my climax, her fingers circling her clit in a blur, her other hand raked in her hair, holding it back, head thrown back. I palm her bouncing, swaying tits, each one a perfect handful, and I feel her seize around me a third time, coming with a guttural shriek.

She falls forward onto me, mouth and nose nuzzling the tender skin between jaw and ear. "I love you, Reece."

Something breaks inside me. Tears leak out again, and my throat is tight and hot. She must feel a tear hit her skin because she plants her hands on my shoulders and pushes up to hover over me, fine blonde hair curtained around my face.

She sees the tears and laughs, sniffling and crying herself. "Hey, hey, what's this, baby? Talk to me."

She wipes my face with her palm and then kisses my cheeks and my closed eyelids with such exquisite tenderness that my already cracked and fractured heart shatters further. I cover my face with my hand, but she wrestles my hand away and pins both of mine with one of hers over my head.

"Don't you hide from me, mister. Give me all you got." She peppers my face with kisses until I can't help but laugh.

I slide my hands over her ass—which I think I might be a little obsessed with—and then up her waist, soaring them all over her back, and then cup her hanging, swaying tits.

Her eyes search my face. She's nervous—worried. "Reece, I—"

I fame her perfect, heart-shaped face. "I love you, Lilith. I fucking love you. I love you so goddamned much."

She collapses onto me again, sighing in relief. "Oh thank god."

I roll to put her beneath me, on an elbow above her, brushing her hair out of her eyes with my fingertips. "I'm labeling and making promises. You're mine, and I'm yours. We're together. Boyfriend, lover, partner, whatever word you wanna use, I'm that. I have no fuckin' clue where my life is gonna go, but all I want is to figure it out with you."

Her hand rasps across the stubble on my jaw. "I've been trying so damn hard not to spiral about this," she says.

"About what, exactly?"

"You and me. What this is." She roams my shoulder, my bicep, my waist, and then cradles my ass. "I realized at some point that I'll never be able to have sex with anyone else ever again. You’ve totally ruined me for all other men. And that scares me, Reece. I guess I have a bit of an abandonment complex. My parents basically abandoned me. Lisa died, and I know it's not fair, but that's how it feels. And I guess ever since she died, I've been closed off, kept everyone at arms' length because I'm scared of being abandoned again."

"I get it," I say. "I really, really get it."

“I know you do." Her fingernails scratch up my back to my shoulders, down my spine, over my sides and back down to my butt. "I was so scared this was just a holiday fling. That I’d go back to Atlanta alone and you'd go back to LA, and I'd never be able to forget you. You're just…I guess it feels like you're made for me. You get me. You understand my body. You make me feel things I didn't know I could feel."

"It's not a fling, Lily. I don't even know if I want to go back to LA, and certainly not alone. I have no one there—my only friend is my agent, and I pay him. The industry may not want me back, and I'm not sure I want it back, either. What I would do, I don't know. I just know I can't picture a day where I don't wake up with your perfect hot little body all over mine. I never want to go to sleep without you again." Truth burns in my throat, and I let it out. "I don't want to be the guy I used to be. You make me…better. It's fucking cliche as hell, I know, but it's true. I would have lost it in Target, but you were there, and I didn't."

"You didn't because you've done the work, Reece, not because of me." A little shrug. "Or at least, not entirely."

"You calm me. You center me." I nuzzle her throat, kiss the delicate hollow where her neck meets her shoulder.

She gasps. "God, Reece. I genuinely don't understand my body's reaction to you. A simple kiss to my neck and I’m on fire all over again."

Still inside her, I feel myself throb in response as her sex pulses, soaked and hot around me. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. It’s not want—it's need . Obsession."

She squeezes around me as I harden. "It's love , Reece. That's what this is. Love. Chemistry."

This time, when we make love again, it's slow and gentle. She gasps in my ear as I slick into her, pulling at my buttocks with both hands, nails digging in as she takes me again and again.

This time, we come at the same time, in perfect unison.

"Oh god, I love you, Reece. I love you. I fucking love you," she pants.

I groan into her neck, hands in her hair, as I come, unable to form words until I've settled from the high of my climax. Shaking all over, I touch my lips to hers. "I love you, Lily. Love you forever."

Her eyes water with tears. "Promise?"

"Promise."

After a few minutes of basking in the afterglow, I roll off of her and clean her and then myself. We both get dressed in comfy clothes, and I bring in the tree. I unbox the stand, wrestle the tree in place, and cut the netting.

We spend the rest of the day stringing lights and hanging ornaments as carols play from the Alexa on the counter and snow flurries outside. We munch on cookies and drink spiked eggnog, cuddling on the couch as the fire roars and crackles, and we discuss the future.

She talks about practicing law in LA, and I talk about transitioning behind the camera in the film scene in Atlanta.

Eventually, we decide I'll spend a few months in Atlanta with her once her condo is repaired, looking into the local film scene; if that doesn’t work out, then she'll come with me to LA for a few months while I check out the lay of the land in Hollywood.

It feels like the start of something.

A big, bold, beautiful something.