Twelve Years Ago

I open one eye with a groan, and the matching popcorn awards from the MTV event last night are on the dresser. Last night wasn't a dream. The memory washes over me, and I close my eyes, letting contentment linger.

Wyatt's arm snakes out of nowhere in the king-size bed to circle my waist, yanking me back against his chest. "You're awake?" he mumbles.

"Last night..." I grin. Of course, I knew his plan, but I still can't believe we pulled off the elaborate scenario on stage without a hitch.

"Sometimes being famous is fun." Wyatt's voice is muffled by my shoulder, his lips so close to my skin their movement sends a shiver through me. "How you feeling this morning?"

"Hungover." I shift closer to him, pressing my ass into his morning erection. Even with a pounding headache and a dry mouth, I'd let him ease into me from behind, let an orgasm brush the cobwebs away.

"You want something to take the edge off?" He runs his hand down my leg and back up. My skin prickles at his touch.

"What have you got in mind?" My voice is breathy with desire. How will I ever get enough of him?

"Shower, together. Then, there's a place I want to take you."

"Somewhere you haven't taken me before?"

"You don't know all my secrets yet." There's a smile in his voice.

I turn around in his arms and run my hands along his toned chest. His muscles twitch as I trace them. He likes to tease me with his ability to isolate the movements. He has another tell that let's me know I'm not the only one thinking about what we'll be doing in the shower. His breath hitches every time I hit a sensitive place. "I have to go home at some point this morning. I don't have any clothes left here." I bury my face in his neck.

He tugs me flush against him. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I want you to move in here."

I frown and draw back to search his face. "You want me to move in here? Into the house you share with Isaac?"

"Technically Isaac doesn't live here. Just feels like he does. But, yeah. I hate being gone anywhere and knowing you're in that shitty apartment so far away from my house."

"That shitty apartment was a stroke of luck for me. I'm not sure about giving it up." Living with Wyatt wouldn't be a hardship—I spend enough time here as it is. But I have to remember to keep my long-term options in mind.

Wyatt frowns. "Why not?"

"We've only been doing whatever we're doing for a year."

"So?" The frown still mars his face. "What are you getting at?"

"I don't want to give up my sweet-ass shitty apartment if there's a chance you're going to get tired of me." I've thought it a million times. At some point this will end. I've never had a reason to say the truth out loud.

Wyatt laughs, deep and full. "Tired of you?" Disbelief is evident in his voice.

"I'm not naïve. You've dated lots of people." Now it's my turn to frown. He's been fodder for the gossip mags since he was a teenager. Everyone knows Wyatt's ex-girlfriends.

He gives me an amused look. "Oh yeah? Name some of them."

I shift away from him to start counting on my hand. "Rebecca Jakes, Sadie Croft, Kristin Bristow, Jennifer Banks." I take a breath to continue, and his hand closes over mine.

"Okay, so, a couple of those might be legitimate," Wyatt concedes. He cups the side of my face, and his thumb rubs my cheek. "I should have said this to you last night. After the night we had, saying the words then would have been a hell of a lot more romantic. If you think I'm not serious about you, you're dead wrong."

I brush a quick kiss across his lips. "I know you like me. I'm not trying to get you to tell me things you don't want to say. Whenever you're in the city you spend all your free time with me. I just...it's a big commitment, moving out of my place and in with you."

"You want to keep one foot out the door? I'll pay for your apartment. I'll buy it and put it in your name. Just move in with me."

"Wyatt!" Exasperation bursts out. "I don't want you paying for my apartment. That's not what I'm saying."

"I know you aren't asking me to do that. But if you want a Plan B in case you get tired of me, that's fine."

I scoff. "As if I'll be the one leaving."

"Ellie Lynn Cooper, I love you!" Wyatt's voice booms around the large master suite.

"What?" My heart kicks up a knotch. Those three words have almost left my lips a thousand times. Every time I look at him, my heart overflows. He said the words exactly the way I feel them—as though they're going to break out of jail and hold the room hostage.

"I love you. I wanted to tell you last night when we won best kiss, but we were live, and I didn't want to say it to you in front of the whole world. You know? Not the first time. But then the night kinda got away from me, and I never said it. I should have. I should have said those words months ago."

My grin is so wide I'm going to crack in half. "You love me?" Wyatt Burgess loves me.

"I've ever loved anyone like I love you, Ellie Cooper. I'm never going to let you go," Wyatt says gruffly.

The intensity in his face grips me, makes me surer of these words than anything else I've heard come out of his mouth. When he looks at me, I feel his love. "I love you, too. I knew I did when you crashed my date, but I was never completely sure if I was just someone to pass the time with for you."

"I've told other people I love them. I thought I understood what those words meant, but the way I feel about you—it's so far beyond what I've ever felt before." His voice is soft as his hand traces patterns on my back. He swallows. "It's hard for me to say that—so many people who were supposed to love me have let me down. Well, you know about my parents. And my sister, Anna leaves a path of destruction in her wake. I love her, but she's... If I didn't have Isaac and his family, I don't know what would have happened to me in this business."

"Now you've got me, too." Tenderness stretches across my chest. He can count on me. Nothing will ever tear us apart. I'm never going to hurt him or leave him or let him down. "I love you like that too, Wyatt. Love isn't a big enough word for how I feel when I'm with you."

"Come on." Wyatt grabs my hand as he climbs out of bed.

I pad after him into the giant en suite bathroom. He opens the medicine cabinet and removes a bottle of pills. Inside is a mishmash of all different kinds of drugs. He pops off the lid, shakes some into his palm and sorts through them. He throws a couple in his mouth and swallows them without water. I can't do that yet.

I hold out my hand. He sifts through them and drops one into my palm. I don't ask the name of the drug or the dose. I never do. He's paranoid about getting me addicted to anything, so he says he rarely gives me the same thing twice in a row. I grab the glass off the massive marble counter and fill it. I place the pill at the back of my tongue and chug the water.

With my hand in his, he leads me into a shower almost bigger than my apartment. The dual showerheads mean neither of us get cold if we stay in our own spot. What's the fun in that?

He cranks the hot water and as steam fills the bathroom, Wyatt shows me how much he loves me without saying a word.

~ * ~

The racetrack is quiet when we pull into the lot. Wyatt called ahead to make sure today was a good day for us to show up. The guy on the phone assured Wyatt there was no one else coming within an hour window on either side of our slot. Sometimes Wyatt's favorite part of being famous is going largely unseen by the public. And sometimes, like last night, giant displays of his mass appeal are more his speed. Delicious shivers run down my spine at the thought.

"What are we racing?" I've never been on a racetrack before. Excitement nips at my heels. Every day with Wyatt is an adventure. How did I get so lucky?

"Motorcycles. But we can do anything else you want." He links his fingers with mine. "They do whatever I want here."

The track is private. Some wealthy producer on a movie brought Wyatt here a few years ago, and he's been welcome back ever since. The number of people Wyatt knows amazes me all the time, but I guess when you start in the business at six, connections come easily.

Just before we get to the front office, he takes out his pills and throws back another. Wordlessly, he passes me one and then offers me a sip from his ever-present water bottle. Before I knew him, I thought the bottle was because he liked to stay hydrated. Now, I know better. Sometimes it's full of alcohol. I can never be sure, but today it's water.

Pete, the guy Wyatt knows takes us through all the safety information. My attention wanders, and I can't focus. Pete is a little hazy to me. I grab a helmet. Should I tell Wyatt I'm not sure about this? Nah. I'll be fine. I ride motorcycles on the island all the time.

We pick our bikes, and I go for the Ducati. Wyatt chooses the fastest Kawasaki they have, and Pete doesn't seem phased.

Wyatt goes first, buzzing around the track. Every time he passes me, I wobble a little. Pete shoots me a look filled with concern.

"I'm fine." I smile. Is my smile straight? It feels crooked on my face. "Late night last night."

His shoulders ease, and he grins. "I saw the MTV movie awards last night on TV. You two killed it." He whistles, and his gaze turns appraising, like I'm a piece of juicy meat hanging off a hook. If Wyatt was here, he'd punch Pete for looking at me like that.

We put on a hell of a show. People will be talking about what we did years from now. I'll never forget being on stage with Wyatt, the luckiest girl in the world.

The loud buzzing comes to a stop, and Wyatt yanks off his helmet, parking his bike off to the side. "Your turn, Ellie." He scans me. "You okay?" His brow creases.

"Awesome." I wander over to my bike. My whole body is loose like liquid. My leg swings over the bike, and the action is surreal as though it's not my body doing the movement. I flex my fingers around the handles. Just before I hit the throttle, I glance at Wyatt.

"Watch the third curve," he calls out.

"Got it." I give him a thumbs-up. A thumbs-up. Weird. I'm not usually a thumbs-up person. I shake my head, and my brain bounces around my skull.

I've ridden bikes my whole life, and I take off like a shot, zooming around the track the first time. I slow for the third curve, his warning fresh in my mind. I fly past Wyatt and Pete on the sidelines, both a blur of outline and color. I love being on the track. I love the power and the speed. I love how free I feel as though I'm not really in my body at all.

When I navigate the third curve for the second time, I'm almost through when I open up the throttle again. The bike slips under me, and I wobble. I know this feeling. I've ditched a few bikes growing up on the island. Instinct drives me when the bike flies out from underneath me, and I tumble to the ground. I roll, my helmeted head bouncing on the tarmac. What's happening? My mind is flying, whirling, spinning, but my body is plastered to the ground.

Above me, Wyatt appears. He doesn't pick me up, instead he uses his hands to scan my body. "You awake?" His voice brims with panic.

"Yeah," I mumble. "Misjudged that one." Did I wipe out? What happened?

He chuckles. "No shit. What the hell happened?"

When did this feeling start? "What'd you give me?" Bewilderment laces my words. My body is heavy, but the spinning is coming to an end.

He freezes and stares down at me.

I lift the visor and turn my head. Pete picks up the Ducati.

"You alright, Ellie?" Pete calls over when he catches my eye.

"I think so." My voice is rusty.

"You've got good instincts. I thought the bike was going to land on you, but you cleared it." Is that admiration in his voice?

I must have looked way cooler than I felt. The stunned expression on Wyatt's face still hasn't left. "What?" The clouds in my mind begin to clear.

"I don't know what pill I handed you. I have no idea," Wyatt says. "I don't know what you took."

"Shame." I struggle to sit up. "Probably shouldn't take that one again. I don't feel good."

"Hospital?" Wyatt's voice is tinged with more panic.

The leather outfit he bought me for riding on the back of his motorcycle around L.A. is intact, and I didn't pass out. "No, I don't think so. Just a bit of road rash."

Wyatt rubs his face and tugs me into his lap. He pulls off my helmet and runs his hands all over.

"I'm okay." I want to ease his concerned, guilty expression, but my stomach is threatening to revolt.

"But if you hadn't been, what happened would have been my fault." He closes his eyes and his jaw clenches. With a deep, shuddering breath, he gives me a soft kiss. "I thought I was doing such a good job keeping you away from my messy habits."

"I'm fine." Not yet, but I will be. "I'm not a child." I try to catch his gaze.

He laughs, but the sound holds no humor. "No one in their right mind would ever trust me with a child. I'd ruin a kid."

I gather my thoughts to respond. I don't agree with his assessment. He'd be a fun dad, but my brain is sluggish.

"I thought I'd find you two here," Isaac yells from the sidelines. "No public displays of affection on the racetrack!"

I laugh and try to stand up. I'm not steady on my feet, and Wyatt rises quickly to loop his arm around me. We walk across the tarmac, arms around each other. Every time I glance at Wyatt, my heart swells. He loves me, really loves me.

"Ellie—you look like you're still drunk," Isaac teases as I approach.

"I think if I was drunk, I might feel better," I say. "You going around the track?"

"I already get all the highs and rushes I can handle," Isaac says. "I came to watch you kick his ass on the track. You're done already?"

I grimace. Parts of me are tender. Both shoulders. My right elbow. Whatever he gave me is wearing off. "I ditched the bike."

"Third corner?" Isaac raises an eyebrow.

"Opened back up a little too early."

Beside me, Wyatt can't seem to look at either of us. His gaze is focused on the track, a frown between his brows.

"Seeing the love of your life ditch her bike a little traumatizing for you?" Isaac shoves Wyatt's shoulder.

My heart double times at his easy use of the word love in front of both of us. Did Wyatt tell Isaac before he told me? "Wyatt feels guilty. My judgement isn't great right now."

"What'd you take?" Isaac is unfazed.

They're high on something at least fifty percent of the day. Maybe more, if I'm being honest. "Don't know."

Wyatt's frown deepens. He removes the bottle from his pocket and sifts through the pills. Sorting through them is useless. He doesn't count the pills he puts in the bottles. He drops them in like candy, an assortment, a choice for every mood.

Isaac chuckles. "Someday, Wyatt, your impulsiveness is going to get someone in a heap of trouble."

With a scowl, he closes the bottle and shoves it back in his pocket. The mystery unsolved, he tightens his hold on me. He kisses my temple, his lips soft against my skin. "You two know better than to listen to me." He plants another kiss in my hair.

"This is true, this is true." Isaac scans the track. "I'll just have to warn my children about wicked Uncle Wyatt."

He laughs, the tension releasing out of him. "You as a dad—I'd like to see that."

Isaac's dark eyes sparkle with delight. "I'm not really the paternal type, am I?"

Wyatt slaps him on the back, grinning. "Neither am I, man, neither am I."