Devoted 2 : Where the Ivy Grows

  1

  I hear a voice.

  ‘No. NO! Not this time.’

  It’s Marc. Shouting.

  My eyes flick open, and I feel Marc’s arms tighten around me. We’re in bed, facing each other, my naked body pressed against his bare chest. It’s dawn, and I see pink light glowing through the bedroom window.

  Marc’s eyes are screwed tightly shut, and he looks in pain.

  ‘Marc?’ I say.

  ‘Get away from her!’ he shouts, and his arms grip me tighter.

  I stare at Marc’s closed eyelids as they flicker over his beautiful blue eyes.

  Marc’s pale face glows in the breaking dawn. He’s suffering, and I can’t stand it.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I whisper. ‘Marc? Are you okay?’

  Marc bolts upright, pulling me up with him. He looks bewildered. Confused – a little boy on the verge of tears.

  I stroke hair from his forehead. ‘Are you having a bad dream?’

  He opens his mouth and closes it again, then pulls me against his chest.

  ‘It was nothing,’ he murmurs, but his voice is tense. ‘Just ... a dream about something that happened a long time ago. I’m sorry I woke you.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ I slip my arms around his neck. ‘The sun’s coming up. I would have been awake in a few minutes anyway.’

  Marc lowers me onto the bed, and I see his chest is moving quickly, the little white scars on his skin stretching with every breath. I put my palm to his heart. His skin feels too hot.

  ‘Your dream ... it sounded bad.’

  ‘It’s over now.’ He falls beside me onto the pillow and runs a finger over my lips. Then he kisses me.

  I’m about to speak – to ask him more about his dream. But he kisses me harder, and I’m lost in a world of senses. His smell, his mouth, his tongue.

  He pulls back and his hands find mine. He looks down at our touching fingers.

  ‘Do you remember last night?’ I ask.

  A smile pulls at Marc’s lips. ‘You think I’d forget?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘As if I would.’

  ‘It made me happy. To see you ... lose yourself in me.’

  Marc’s smile spreads, until I see his beautiful white teeth. ‘Oh, did it indeed?’ He wraps his arms around me, and I feel his large hands slide around my back.

  ‘It did.’ I smile into his chest. ‘Very, very happy.’

  ‘Well. I aim to please, Miss Rose.’ His brown hair is flopping messily over his forehead, and he looks puppy dog cute, with brown stubble creeping over his jaw line.

  ‘Was it ... special for you?’ I ask.

  Marc strokes my long hair behind my ears. I know it’s gone all frizzy in my sleep and wish I had a mirror. Actually, I don’t. If I can’t see it, I can pretend it’s all smooth and shiny like Lucy Liu.

  He picks up my hand and places my fingers to his lips, running them back and forth.

  ‘Special isn’t a good enough word.’

  I feel myself grinning. ‘What is a good enough word?’

  Marc shrugs and rolls back so he’s looking at the ceiling. ‘Language was never my strong suit. I prefer action.’

  I prop myself up on my elbow and watch his profile. It’s so perfect. He’s a different sort of good looking from every angle. From the side, with a little brown fuzz on his cheeks and messed up hair over his forehead, he looks like a boy band member. But as he turns to face me, I can see his full jaw, and he looks sharp and powerfully and oooh.

  ‘Action?’ I challenge, the grin practically reaching my ears.

  He pulls me on top of him, and my hair falls forward over my shoulders onto his chest. I can feel he’s hard against my stomach and find myself taking in a deep breath. His size still takes me by surprise.

  ‘Actions speak louder than words.’ Marc runs his hands down to my backside, and then lifts me onto him – all of him.

  I feel his hardness and size between my legs. He’s not inside me yet, but he’s placed me exactly in the right spot so he’s pushing against me, letting me know he can slip in at any moment.

  He holds me like that, teasing me. But I have no patience where Marc is concerned, especially not today. I move my hips so I’m at the right angle to slip him inside, and try to ease myself down.

  But Marc won’t let me. He holds my hips tight.

  ‘So eager, Miss Rose. Anticipation can be pleasurable too.’

  I glare at him. He knows this is torture. ‘For you, maybe.’

  We watch each other, and he looks totally relaxed. In control. I think back to last night and hope, hope it wasn’t a one off. That it’s the start of more closeness between us.

  I want to have an effect on him. And damn it, I will.

  I slide my hand between his legs, gently feeling and massaging.

  He sucks in his breath, then lets it out. ‘Are you trying to test me, Miss Rose?’

  I nod, pleased to feel his hands loosen a little on my hips. This is my chance. I peel his hands away and ease myself down.

  I let out a long moan as he sinks deeper and deeper in me, and to my delight, a faint ‘Christ’ tumbles from Marc’s lips.

  I look into his eyes, knowing my own have gone all soft and wanton. Having him inside me like this, filling me up, feels so, so good.

  His eyes have gone a little out of focus, and I see him swallow.

  ‘You did say actions are better than words.’ The words stumble out of my mouth as the rest of him slides inside me. It’s becoming hard to speak.

  ‘I did, didn’t I?’ Marc raises a devilish eyebrow. He’s definitely back in control, now.

  ‘Yes,’ I murmur, feeling my thighs touch his hips.

  I hear something outside – raised voices – and tense up. The voices are a long way away. Perhaps outside the college gates. But something about them doesn’t feel right.

  2

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Photographers, probably,’ Marc answers.

  I stare at him. ‘You’re kidding.’

  Marc shakes his head. ‘No. I knew they’d be here this morning.’

  ‘But how did they know you’d be here?’

  Marc laughs then. ‘They don’t. They’re here for you.’

  ‘For me?’

  ‘Sophia, if you’re serious about us being together, this is what life will be like. Photographers are going to be camped out, wanting their piece of you. I hate it, but that’s what you’re signing up for. You can still change your mind.’

  ‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I know what I want.’

  The voices get a little louder, and I feel sickness in my stomach. ‘I’m scared, though. Did you ever get scared? In the early days?’

  Marc puts his arms around me and pulls me to his chest. I feel him move inside me.

  ‘Ooh!’

  He puts his nose against my neck and inhales.

  ‘God, you smell good. I never used to be scared. But I’m scared now.’

  I pull myself up, feeling him rearrange inside me again, and look at him. ‘You are?’

  ‘Of course I am. I have something to lose now.’ He takes a piece of my hair and winds it around his hand, letting it slip over his palm. ‘I’m scared of losing you.’

  I frown. ‘Of losing me?’

  Marc lets my hair slide free and runs his fingers back and forth over my hips. ‘My world isn’t the real world, Sophia. And I think once you realise that, you might want your old life back. I wouldn’t blame you. And then, of course, there’s me. Once you find out more about me, you might run a mile.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Last night was the start of us. The real start of us. And now I have you, I won’t
give you up.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Marc grins, then rolls me onto the bed so he’s on top of me. I suck in my breath.

  ‘You won’t give me up?’ He’s still inside me, and I feel a pleasant ache as my body rearranges itself around him.

  ‘I couldn’t if I wanted to. You’re like an addiction. A bad habit.’

  ‘A bad habit?’

  We’re both smiling now.

  ‘A very bad habit.’

  ‘You can’t say you weren’t warned.’ Marc’s grip tightens around my backside. ‘But now there’s nowhere to run. I have you exactly where I want you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.’

  A look of sadness flashes in his eyes. ‘Be careful what you wish for.’

  I lift my head. ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning ... there might be sides to me that you won’t like.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure I’ve already seen those.’

  ‘No.’ Marc shakes his head. ‘There’s more.’

  ‘More?’ I keep my tone light, trying not to let whatever dark thoughts are troubling Marc to overtake him. ‘Marc, we all have things in us that we don’t want others to see. But intimacy, a relationship – that means sharing everything. Light and dark. I have my dark sides, too.’

  I think of how jealous I feel sometimes. And how insecure I am about why Marc wants to be with me.

  ‘Oh, I’ve seen your dark side, Miss Rose.’ The smile is back on Marc’s face, and I’m relieved.

  ‘Oh, really? And what exactly have you seen, Mr Blackwell?’

  ‘You’re far too trusting,’ says Marc.

  ‘I’d hardly call that a dark side.’

  He begins to move back and forth, slowly but with a firmness that takes my breath away.

  ‘Oh,’ I murmur as he moves faster.

  He picks my legs up and wraps them around his back, moving hard and fast now.

  After last night, we feel different together. Still hot. Still sexy. But ... closer. His body feels meshed with mine. A part of me.

  I take his face in my hands and look right into his clear blue eyes.

  ‘Will you come again?’ I whisper, feeling him thrust deeper and deeper. Pleasure begins to build up. ‘Oh God, Marc... will you?’

  ‘Not yet,’ he says, his eyes closing. ‘Not until you do.’

  He lets out a long breath, and his hands grip my backside, then he pulls himself inside me, deeper, deeper, deeper.

  The pleasure is so intense, it’s almost painful. I writhe under him, pinned down by his weight. He’s not letting me move, not letting me get away from the pleasure. He nearly has me, all of me, and he knows it. A few more thrusts and I’ll be his. But I don’t want to do this alone. I want him to be with me, all the way. Just like last night.

  ‘Wait,’ I breathe. ‘I don’t want to do this yet. Not without you.’

  He rolls onto his back, taking me with him.

  ‘Let me see you,’ he says and lifts me away from his chest.

  ‘Oh God, Marc,’ I murmur, moving back and forth. I can’t help myself. I can’t think straight. I can’t stop myself moving. ‘Marc. Oh Marc.’ I feel waves of warmth moving up my legs. They hit my stomach all at once, and I fall forward onto his chest.

  Marc’s hands tighten on my hips, not letting me escape as warmth spreads over my whole body.

  ‘Oh,’ I moan, feeling pleasure everywhere. But it comes with a sadness. He didn’t come. Have I lost him again?

  ‘Marc -’

  He silences me by pressing his lips against mine, then rocking me back and forth. Once, twice, three times and then ...

  He groans and his eyes tighten, teeth gripped together. Every part of his body relaxes, and he sinks down into the bed, his eyes half closed.

  ‘Did you ...?’ I ask.

  Marc nods, gently.

  I bury myself in his chest, snuggling against him, feeling his scars and his chest hair, smiling as I feel his arms come around me.

  ‘I love you,’ Marc whispers. ‘Ready to face the world?’

  3

  I’d been trying not to think about what’s waiting for us outside the college.

  Wrapped up in Marc’s arms, cocooned in my bedroom, we’re safe. But out there ... I know paparazzi will be waiting for us. Waiting for me, more precisely.

  They’re going to get quite the story this morning. A Marc Blackwell bonus.

  I think about the picture they took of Marc and me at my dad’s house. God knows what story they’ll tell with it in the morning papers. Innocent girl seduced by wicked older man? Or slutty student seduces her Hollywood hunk teacher?

  ‘Are you sure you’re ready for this?’ Marc asks, serious now. I was enjoying his playful side and wish, wish we could just be a normal couple. But ... we’re not. Not in any way.

  ‘Nearly.’ I’m enjoying my cheek against his warm chest and want a few more minutes of him – his bare skin, his beautiful smell and his strong arms.

  We lay like that for a moment, until I force myself to move.

  ‘Let’s do it,’ I say, tearing myself away from him.

  ‘You’re sure? Because Sophia, I could get out of here without being seen. You can still call this off. I didn’t want any of this for you. Believe me. I still don’t.’

  ‘But I want you,’ I say. ‘And all this comes with you. It’s part of you.’

  Marc props himself on his elbow, and I get a nice view of his long, toned arm. ‘Let’s have breakfast, then go give them their pictures.’

  I shake my head. ‘I’m too nervous to eat.’

  ‘You should eat something.’

  ‘Honestly, I couldn’t. I just want to get this over with.’

  Marc sighs. ‘Fine. If you insist.’

  I slip away from him and go to my wardrobe. I put on clean underwear, and my hand hovers over a navy trouser suit Jen made me buy for auditions. I should look smart. Capable. Adult. Not too young.

  I feel Marc behind me, and he reaches over my shoulder to pluck out my favourite pair of skinny jeans.

  ‘Wear what’s you,’ he says. ‘Be yourself today. They should know who you really are. They’ll love the real you, just like I do.’

  I turn to him and look up into his blue eyes, so clear and light today, like diamonds reflecting the sky. ‘Marc. Why do you love me? I mean ... that’s what they’ll all be thinking, won’t they? Why would someone like you fall in love with someone like me?’

  He smiles, and my heart melts. ‘Because you’re you.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘You don’t see it, do you?’

  ‘See what?’

  ‘What it is that makes people love you.’

  ‘People don’t love me,’ I laugh. ‘At least, no more than anyone else. I don’t see what makes you love me. I’m just ordinary. Just an ordinary girl from an ordinary place.’

  ‘You’re certainly not ordinary,’ says Marc. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you in my life. If you’d been anyone else, this situation would never have happened.’ He sighs. ‘Christ, what a mess.’

  I feel a pain in my chest. ‘A mess? Is that how you see us?’

  Marc lifts his head, and I see pain in his eyes. ‘Not you. Me.’

  ‘You’re not a mess. You’re perfect.’

  Marc laughs. ‘And that’s why I love you, Sophia. Because everything to you is good.’ He puts his arms around me. ‘Get dressed, now. Your public is waiting.’

  4

  We walk out of the accommodation tower, hand-in-hand, dazzled by the bright sunlight. I’m wearing my most comfortable clothes – a black sweater that I’ve had since forever, jeans and Converse. The real me.

  Of course, I’m also wearing the navy cashmere coat Marc bought me that fits like a glove and gives me a far better figure than I have. A little bit of Marc can’t hurt today.

  Marc is wearing what he wore last night – a black t-shirt, cargo pants and grey trainers. He’s showered, and his hair is a little damp.

  No coat, of co
urse. Typical Marc. He’s not noticing the cold at all, and it certainly is cold today. He looks every bit the action hero, and I marvel at the fact this man, this handsome Hollywood actor, is holding my hand. We’re together. It feels crazy to even think those words. But they’re true.

  The grounds are quiet and empty, and there’s a feeling of total stillness as we crunch along the gravel path. I guess it must come from all those sleeping students, metres away from us in their warm beds. Lucky them. All they have to worry about is breakfast and today’s lectures.

  It’s a beautiful, cold crisp day, and the icy white blue sky reminds me of the day Marc found me in the woods. A sliver of fuzzy sun shines above us, but it’s definitely autumn now. Almost winter. The air is cold and mist is coming from our mouths.

  What will become of my life at college once we tell the world?

  ‘Marc.’ I squeeze his hand and pull him to a stop. ‘What will happen, once we tell everyone? Will I ever come back here?’

  Marc smiles. ‘Of course you will. It’s all arranged.’

  ‘What ... how?’

  Marc takes both my hands in his. ‘I planned everything.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘In the highly unlikely event that you’d decide to throw away your privacy and your safety to be with a man like me.’

  I smile. ‘You must have known what an easy choice it would be for me.’ I raise an eyebrow back.

  ‘I have other plans in place, too.’

  ‘Other plans?’

  ‘In case you change your mind.’

  ‘Change my mind?’ I swallow. Does he not have any clue how I feel about him? ‘I won’t change my mind.’

  Marc shakes his head and his brow furrows. ‘Don’t speak too soon.’

  ‘Marc, I -’

  Marc squeezes my hands. ‘I won’t be teaching you anymore. At least, not in the classroom.’

  ‘No, Marc. You promised. You can’t leave. The other students -’

  ‘Sophia. You should know by now, I would never break a promise to you. I’ll still be teaching the other students. But you and I will have private tuition. You won’t be attending my classes anymore. I don’t think it would be appropriate, do you?’

  I think about that. It seems like an ideal solution, so ... what’s my problem?