Conviction(55)

I tilt my head back and stare up at the roof interior of the car.

What the f*ck am I thinking?

There’s probably a hundred paps surrounding the venue and if any of them have one of those big f*ck off zoom lenses they like to use, they’ve probably just gotten a dozen shots of what looks like me kidnapping a tiny blonde.

Fuck! I’ve kidnapped a tiny blonde.

I turn to look at her. She’s pushed as far into the opposite corner of the car as she can get, as far away from me as she can possibly be.

Her bottom lip is quivering and she wipes away a tear with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry, Meebs. I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry.”

She wraps both her arms around herself and I feel like a complete cunt for making her cry.

“I just wanna talk. I just wanna know what happened.”

She turns to look at me. “Now you wanna talk, Con? Now, after all these years?”

I nod my head.

She’s beautiful.

So f*cking beautiful.

I’m f*cked.

Totally f*cked.

“Well, I’ll talk. I’ll tell you what happened. You broke my f*cking heart that’s what happened,” she shouts.

I rake my hand through my hair. I don’t know how I broke her heart when she’s the one that didn’t show.

The driver’s door opens and Matt sticks his head in. “I’ve gotta move the car, boss. We’re causing chaos.”

I nod my head at him, then turn to Meebs. “Will you come back to my place with me? Just so we can talk?”

She glares at me for a few seconds, then nods her head and says very quietly, “Just to talk.”

Good, because I have no intention of letting her go anyway, not until we have talked.

“Take us to mine please, Matt.”

He doesn’t reply, just nods his head and pulls off along the narrow road behind the club. There’s security stopping anyone unauthorised getting to the back of the building, but beyond that I spot at least twenty paps are waiting at the end of the street.

I reach out along the seat and hold my palm up and watch Meebs for her response. Silently begging her to reach out to me. She stares at my hand for a few seconds but instead of putting her hand in mine like I’m hoping, she slides across the space between us and straight into my lap. Without saying a single word, she wraps her arms around my neck, buries her head into my chest and sobs.

It’s the best feeling in the world.

Ever.

I don’t care that she’s crying. I don’t care that she’s sobbing so hard her body is shaking. I just care that she’s here, with me. That I’m the one that’s holding her and I know as sure as shit that I don’t ever want to let her go.

It feels like a lifetime since I allowed myself to be this intimate with another human being. There’s been plenty of sex over the years. Dirty, filthy, f*cked up sex, but none of that compares to what I’m feeling right now. There’s nothing sexual about the way I’m holding her. We’re both fully clothed and haven’t even so much as kissed, but this is the closest I’ve allowed anyone to me in a long time. Probably since the last night I spent with Meebs.

I wrap the seat belt around both of us and duck my head, burying it in her hair as we drive through the fans and photographers.

“Fucking psychos,” I hear Matt mumble as flashes go off around us and people bang on the car. This is the reason I’m driven about in a car the size of a tank, to keep me safe and the crazies out. Don’t get me wrong, I love our fans. Love meeting them and finding out about them, but I don’t love it when they throw themselves in front of a moving car that I’m travelling in, or launching themselves at the bonnet. That shit scares the f*ck out of me.

Eventually, we make our way through the crowds and into the Saturday night London traffic.

Meebs sobs have stopped and her breathing has steadied. I tilt her head back slightly and can see she’s fallen asleep. I brush her hair out of her face and just stare at her. Yeah, creepy I know, but f*ck it. She stinks of booze, so I’m assuming she’s pretty drunk and not about to wake up from her drunken snooze anytime soon, so from East London to my house in Surrey I just watch her sleep. I watch her eyelids flutter and her little wet pink tongue, flick out and over her lips every now and then. I watch her throat move as she swallows and I watch her tits move up and down as she breathes. I try not to think about how she looks naked. I try not to think about the fact that she’s much curvier than she was when she was sixteen. I try not to think about the fact that I’ve been inside her and that I’ve come inside her cunt, her mouth and in her hand, over her tits and her belly. I try not to think about any of that and I really try not to get a hard-on.

I fail miserably.

I want to kiss her on those perfect lips of hers. I want to kiss her pale cheeks with their light dusting of freckles. I want to kiss her nose and her eyelids. But I don’t. I manage to keep my shit together and manage to keep my lips to myself, all the way home.





When we pull up on the drive outside my house, she’s still sleeping and in all honesty I’m more than happy to spend the night in the back of the car rather than let her go.

I can’t resist any longer and gently press my lips to her forehead. My heart skips a few beats, and my head spins as mouth makes contact with her skin. So long, so f*cking long I’ve waited for this.