Eleven Years Ago

I shift and sink deeper in my spacious seat. Why does anyone who can afford first class fly economy? Ellie grips my hand as we hit another patch of turbulence. From my pocket, I pass her the container of pills. She doesn't open it, just passes it back. Somewhat surprising. Ellie doesn't normally turn me down for anything. I tuck the bottle back into my pocket.

"My mom is like a bloodhound. She'll know, immediately. I might as well bend over and kiss my ass goodbye. She'd have me booked in rehab before we left the island." Her exasperated sigh is laced with love.

"What about your dad?"

Her family dynamic mystifies me. When I became famous, the money and attention fueled my parents' addictions. They didn't stop me from taking pills or coke or whatever else happened to be going. Half the time, they were sitting beside me doing it too. Their attempts to get me into rehab were more about the control of my funds than about my well-being.

"My dad will strap me down while my mom fills out the paperwork. They are always on the same side. The number of times I got the 'we're a team' speech—too many to count."

"So, she's going to know about my habit?" Nerves should be shooting through me at the thought. Why would they want her with an addict? There's nothing they can say to make her question us. She loves me. Ellie and I are solid.

She laughs, her brown eyes lighting up. "Maybe? She's not going to try to have you committed, though."

"She might wonder why you're with me." Sometimes even I wonder. Doesn't mean I'd ever let her go, not willingly, not without a fight. No woman has ever fit so completely into every aspect of my life. 

She stares at me, love pouring out of her. "She'll know. She'll take one look at me and she'll know. My mother understands me very well." She gives me a sideways look. "Now, my dad is a little more protective."

"As all good fathers should be." I take the Faces magazine out of the seat pocket in front of me. Ellie and I are on the cover this month. Collecting tidbits from our public relationship is a hobby of sorts. If we do anything jointly, I'm buying it, recording it, soaking it in. A cabinet at home is a literal shrine to our relationship. Ellie thinks it's cute.

"At least they picked some good photos." She glances at the cover. "I don't understand why people are so fascinated with us."

I chuckle. "Just enjoy it. People like us. The why isn't important."

Usually, subjects on covers are focused on the camera, but we're focused on each other. The way she looks at me makes me feel full, complete, like I don't need anything else in the world. Absent-mindedly, I take out my pills and toss one into my mouth without looking. Our descent is announced, and I tuck the magazine into my carry-on bag at my feet.

"Why do you keep those?"

I zip the bag closed and half-shrug. Why do I keep all of it? I've never been a collector about any aspect of my fame. Too much history. Too much press. With her, I can't seem to help myself. Maybe all of this is for our kids someday, so they can see how we started.

"I'm a hoarder." I deadpan.

She laughs and gives me a gentle slap on the back. "The only things you hoard are fast cars and motorcycles."

"And anything to do with you." I give her a quick kiss on the mouth.

She grabs my shirt when I try to pull away. "Wyatt Burgess, you say the sweetest things." She kisses me again, wrapping her arms around my neck and almost dragging me across on top of her. These wide seats are a blessing and a curse. When we separate, she searches my face for a beat. "You really love me that much?"

She has the loveliest heart-shaped face. Serious for once, I say, "There are no words for how much I love you. My love for you is infinite."

"Look at you and your fancy words."

"I know lots of good words." I whisper some more of them in her ear.

A blush floods her cheeks. "We're staying at my parents' house."

"If there are no secluded beaches on this island, I am going to be deeply disappointed."

"Mmmm," she says. "Now that, I can do."

I squeeze her leg and settle into the seat as the airplane bounces along the tarmac.

As soon as we exit the plane, I check my Blackberry, scanning through my messages and emails. From here, I fly to my next movie shoot, and I don't want to miss any last-minute changes if it might mean more time with Ellie. Nothing from the production, but  Isaac's sent me a link to something. I click on it and up pops a website devoted to people saying what they're thinking in one hundred and forty characters or less. Seems stupid.

"What's that?" Ellie peers around my shoulder.

I turn my phone so she can see. "Another one of Isaac's get rich schemes. Say what's on your mind in one hundred and forty characters or less. He's supposed to be promoting this shit."

She drapes herself over me. "I'm pretty sure I could say what's on my mind in less than that."

I loop my arm around her, closing my phone and shoving it into my pocket. Why do I even check the damn thing when she's around? I give her a quick kiss on the temple. "I'd pay to read that." One side of my mouth quirks up.

"I'll tell you for free." On her tiptoes, she whispers in my ear.

Her words aren't my focus because her lips brushing against my ear make all the blood rush to my dick. She should have let me book us a hotel. "First stop: secluded beach."

She laughs and squeezes my side.

We clear customs and are on our way to her parents' house a lot faster than I thought we'd be because of the tiny island airport.

In the back of the cab, I fidget. Ellie and I are solid, but she cares more about what her parents think than anyone I know. What if they don't like me?

She grabs my hand. "They're gonna love you. They already know I love you. We'll be fine. I promise."

I nod. Another pill would take off the edge, but if Ellie's right about her mother, I don't want to meet her while I'm out of my head. We enter a giant set of gates and there's a security person posted at the entrance. "Is this normal?" Hollywood for sure, but I got the impression she had a different upbringing.

She purses her lips. "Define normal. My parents both work high profile jobs on the island. Dad's in banking. Mom's a doctor. The crime rate was high for a while, so they took extra precautions when Nikki and I were young."

I've met Nikki a few times when she flew out to a movie set to visit Ellie. We all went out together. She thinks I'm fun and charming. No need to worry about her.

The gates close behind the cab. We inch along the road to the house which isn't as big as I expected. However, the property is huge. The vastness of the ocean peeks through the trees and hedges.

"This is where I grew up," Ellie says as we step out of the cab.

I tip the driver well and grab my bag and Ellie's. We're only here for a long weekend. Her parents come down the wide staircase, both beaming. Her mother hugs Ellie and her father comes over to shake my hand.

"Wyatt." I say my name even though he knows it. I grasp his outstretched hand, and his handshake is firm, confident without being overwhelming. A banker, a trustworthy man.

"Bruno." He smiles and I try to work out what part of him Ellie inherited. Neither of her parents look exactly like her. She's a mixture of them both. The eyes. She has his dark eyes—same shape, similar color.

"So glad to finally meet you," Bruno says. "You're all Ellie talks about. Wyatt this, Wyatt that." He gazes at Ellie with open, unguarded affection.

"Dad!" She squeezes him around the middle.

Her mother offers me a hug. Mindful of her petite frame, I give her a loose hug. She steps back, smiling. "I'm Evelyn. You're so tall in person."

"I get that a lot." Something about the extra three inches over six feet makes people think I'm some sort of giant. Both Evelyn and Ellie are barely over five feet.

Her blue-grey gaze searches my face. A small frown creases her forehead before she looks away, back to Ellie. When she focuses on me again, worry is etched in her features. That was fast—she knows. What gave me away? I haven't even taken much today. Her worry is unnecessary because I'll never let her daughter become like me.

Evelyn and Bruno take us into the house, making idle chit-chat. Ellie gives me a tour of her childhood home. All the keepsakes and mementos of her youth scattered across the walls cause to my heart to contract. Whenever we get to a particularly embarrassing photo or piece of artwork, she tries to cover it with her hands or her body. I laugh, love for her flooding every inch of me. Will this be what having a family with her would be like? Our life splashed across our walls for everyone to admire? We end the tour in the garage, and she tosses me a helmet.

I raise my eyebrows.

"Beach," she says with a grin.

"Blanket?" God, yes. Some alone time.

She straps one to the carrier basket on the back of the scooter and climbs on. "I told my parents we'd be back for dinner. Nikki will be home."

"When's her college break over?" I get onto the back of the bike behind Ellie and tug her ass back, flush with my groin. A little foreplay on the way to the beach. Her ass bouncing at every bump or curve makes not being able to drive myself worth it.

She wiggles her ass against me, and glances over her shoulder. "A week or so, I think. She might come see us in L.A. for a bit."

"You mean you? I won't be there." Her breathing turns ragged when my hands move up her legs. Her ass tight against me in these teeny, tiny shorts is going to cause my brain to malfunction. I scoot forward more, pressing her into my erection.

"Whatever you say." Her voice is breathy, the same way it gets when my tongue flicks across her core. We need to get to the beach.

"I like the sound of that," I say, my lips grazing her ear. I tug at her earlobe with my teeth, and she shivers.

She revs the engine, and we zoom out of the garage headed to the far end of the island. She calls back to me a few times, but I can't hear a word she says. My focus is tied up in the movement of her ass against my cock. Sex on the beach is not a drink. It's a promise.

She parks the bike and gets off. I unlatch the blanket and gesture for her to lead the way. She trudges through the long grass and sand dunes to a wide expanse of deserted beach.  I breathe a sigh of relief. I'll do anything in the world with an audience present—nothing embarrasses me. Ellie's bravado during our first sex scene on set was acting at its best. She likes privacy, and while she is confident, she isn't an exhibitionist.

When she turns to me, her eyes are alight with desire. I toss the blanket on the ground and scoop her to me. Ellie meets my lips, pressing herself closer. Her body fits against mine perfectly. Has she been with someone here before? Can't ask. Don't want the answer. Her lips part, and my tongue dips in, a dance we've done before, one I never get tired of. We shed clothes as fast as we can. She's still got her bikini on, and I'm down to my boxers when my sixth sense kicks in. She kisses my neck, and I scan the trees. Something has me spooked.

"Ellie," I whisper.

"Wyatt," she murmurs into my neck.

"Someone's watching us." Straightening, my hands rest on her shoulders.

She stills, turning her face into my body for protection. "How do you know?"

"The glint of a camera lens in the trees." I squint in the direction I saw it. "Stay here, okay? I'm going to check it out."

"Wyatt." Her voice is uncertain.

"It's fine. I won't do anything stupid." There have been a few run-ins with paparazzi who got a little insistent while trying to get a shot up Ellie's dress at events. Just thinking about those instances makes my blood boil. 

As I head for the trees, someone scrambles out, trying to get away from me. But I'm fast, faster than him. I grab him from behind and spin him around, rage rising, filling me up. With a sharp tug, I unsnap the camera from around his neck.

"Hey!" he shouts.

He's not a big man. Fat, but not tall. Part of me wants to let loose, but I can't punch him. Ellie would be pissed.

"This is public property. I can take those photos." He gestures towards the high-end camera in my hand.

My grip on the camera tightens. "I can either smash this camera against the tree or I can smash it against your head. Your choice."

"You can't do that!" His face is a ruddy red. Embarrassed or angry?

"Sure I can." I smash the tree with the lens. He tries to snatch the camera from me. I hold it over my head, far out of his reach. "I don't know who you're working for or if you're just some independent jackass. But you're not getting rich off Ellie's half-naked body. I'm taking the camera. Send me the bill. If I ever see your face anywhere near her again, you'll wish I hadn't." With a press of my finger, the back of the camera pops open, exposing the film. No need to take any chances.

He mutters, "Half the world is getting rich off Ellie Cooper's naked body."

That lights the fuse, and it's pretty damn short. "What'd you just say?"

"She sells her body to the highest bidder all the time. She was wearing less than that on the cover of—"

The camera falls from my hand, and I land a right hook to his stomach. He collapses to the ground with an oof, clutching his abdomen. "That's her choice, asshole. You don't get to take that from her. No one does." Stooping down, I snatch up the camera and tear out the film, ruining the roll. I leave him on the ground and head back to Ellie who is already dressed. Without a word, I scoop up my clothes, grab her hand, and make a beeline for the bike.

"You took his camera?"

"You see the lens on this thing?" I hold it over my head so she can see behind me. "I don't even want to think about the parts of you he could have zoomed in on."

Ellie shudders. "You hit him, didn't you?"

"He was running his mouth. No one says shit about you and gets away with it."

She's quiet until we get to the bike. I yank my shirt over my head and step into my shorts. She passes me a helmet in silence. I'm wound tight. I pat the pockets of my shorts, but I left my pills in my pants at the house. I never do that.

"Every once in a while, I miss being Ellie, and I wonder if I'll ever get to be her again." She holds her helmet in her hands and stares out at the beach.

"Oh, Ellie." All my rage disintegrates at the sadness on her face. Gently, I take the helmet from her hands and wrap my arms around her, holding her tight. Her cries are muffled by my shirt. What would it be like to remember another life, something different? In my mind, I've always been Wyatt Burgess, international superstar. Without all the attention, I'm just some guy. Not a particularly good one, either. Who'd want that?