Twisted Reality (Blind Reality #2) (3 page)

Just thinking those words brings me a sense of calm. My life feels like it’s finally heading in the right direction and it’s all because of Joey and her willingness to take the risk of being in my life. If I were Joey, I’d run for the hills and not look back. I’m not worthy of her love, but I’m going to do every damn thing I can to prove that I deserve it.

When we finally reach our room, I pick her up—much to her delight—and set my hand with the keycard against the magnetic lock to open the door. I anticipated her saying yes, or at least coming back here with me, so I had the room prepared.

Rose petals are scattered around the floor, and a bottle of champagne together with strawberries and a small wedding cake sit on a small table to the side. The bedroom should be more of the same with an array of lingerie waiting for her in case she wants to wear something like that to bed. I didn’t want to be presumptuous, but she did wear those types of things while on the show, although I’d be happy if she just wore my shirt.

“This moment should’ve happened the day we left the show,” I say before putting her down.

“It’s beautiful, Josh.” She doesn’t leave my side like I expected her to. Instead, she keeps her arm around my waist and leaves us both standing in the room wondering what’s next.

We need to talk. We need to get shit out in the open—especially about what happened after the show was over. I can’t have anything that Jason did hanging over our heads.

“Is that cake?” she asks, breaking the silence.

“Yeah. I thought we could … well, not smear it all over each other’s faces, but enjoy a slice or two. It’s probably not as good as yours, though.”

Joey glances at me, smiling. “You’re rambling.”

“I’m nervous,” I say, shrugging.

“Don’t be.” Joey walks over to the cake and swipes a bit of frosting off the side. “Yum.” She licks it off her finger, humming her satisfaction. She walks over to the window with her finger still in her mouth, which sends a nice jolt straight to my groin.

When she reaches for the handle of the sliding glass door I cringe. “The cameras are out there.”

Joey turns and winks. “We can pretend we’re the Royals and step out onto the balcony and kiss for them.”

“Is that something you want to see? You’re going to be all over the tabloids.”

“It’s part of your life, right?” she asks.

“It is, but you can ignore them.”

She beckons me with her finger and I move toward her willingly. “If I’m going to be your wife I need to accept all of you, including your professional life. For three months I didn’t have to share you with the world.” She sort of nods and shakes her head at the same time after she says that. “I know what I’m getting into, Josh. I happen to think that if we’re more willing to appease them, they’ll leave us alone when we want our privacy.”

Maybe she has a point. I don’t really know because the press has only ever hounded me about my life.

“If you think it’s best.” Reaching for her hand, I guide us out onto the balcony. We both lean over at the same time and do a little people watching until someone yells our names. Once that happens, they scurry to get into position to take our photos.

“They’re crazy.”

“You have no idea,” I tell her. “But it’s their job. They have families to feed.”

“But they’re aggressive!” Joey peers over the balcony, enticing the crowd below to get louder. Unfortunately, our suite is somewhat low to the ground so the photographers are getting decent shots.

“Some are, others respect you. It’s when they’re crawling through your bushes that you start having issues with them.”

Joey blanches and I shrug. I’m used to it.

“Come stand next to me,” she says, hooking her arm with mine. I lean down and kiss her and the media frenzy below us erupts. She smiles against my lips, hopefully because I’m kissing her and not at what is happening on the streets. She’s going to quickly realize that being followed and having your every move captured is intrusive and very annoying.

“I think we should go inside,” I whisper into her ear, another perfect shot for the cameras. She nods against me, slipping her hand into mine and following me back into our room where I shut and lock the door and pull the privacy curtains closed. The last thing I need is for any part of her body to be spread across the papers in the morning.

Joey is moving around the room, side-stepping the rose petals on the floor as if it’s some type of game. I watch, in awe of her beauty, as she giggles and tries to balance herself so she doesn’t fall over.

“What are you looking at?” she asks as she tips her head shyly.

“My wife,” I answer with an inflection in my voice.

There’s a visible change in her demeanor when those words register with her. I walk toward her, careful not to mess up the petals on the floor in case she wants to dance around them again, and lift her chin to meet my gaze.

“My wife,” I say again, and watch her eyes flutter and her cheeks turn rosy. “My wife.” This time the words are a mere whisper as I repeat myself, if not for me, but for her so she knows that I’m right where I want to be.

“I love you, Joey. And I’m sorry for what happened after the show, but know this: I never had any intention of letting you go—I don’t care what I said in the house. From the moment I kissed you on stage, I knew you were going to be in my life and I fought my attraction to you until I couldn’t anymore.”

“I think you already know how I feel.”

“I do,” I tell her. “Most people in my position would freak out being married to a fan, but you’re the only person that sees the real me and if that hasn’t scared you away, I don’t know what will.”

Sighing, Joey steps into my arms. Her head rests against my shoulder and her fingers grip the back of my shirt, almost as if she’s trying to keep me here.

“Jules scares me,” she says, mumbling into my chest.

I pull her tighter to me and kiss the top of her head before leading her over to the couch. When she sits, I reach for her legs and bring them onto my lap so I can get as close to her as possible and still be able look into her eyes.

“I’m not going to sugar coat any of this, Joey, so if you have any questions, you ask and I’ll answer them honestly. I have no secrets.”

“Okay.”

Shit, I was hoping she’d start with a question. Inhaling deeply, I steady myself for what could be an ugly conversation.

“There was a time when I thought I’d be with Jules forever. She wanted marriage and I didn’t. In fact, until I married you the thought had never crossed my mind. For a while we were serious, but it wasn’t enough for her and she became emotionally comfortable with Bronx. Jules says she didn’t cheat, but I’m not confident in her truth telling so we broke up and did this whole off and on thing for a bit. Jules, for the most part, was a casual hook-up because I felt she was safe.”

“Have you been with her since the show?”

My eyes narrow in on Joey, hating that she even felt she needed to ask this of me. “No, hell fucking no. She was there when the show was over, and I told her to get lost. In fact, she’s supposed to star opposite me in that movie I am slated to start filming, but I told my agent no way in hell am I working with her and to have the director find someone else or I’m out.”

Joey tries to shift away from me, but I don’t want her to leave me. Instead, I bring her onto my lap and move us to the corner of the sofa for more comfort. “Believe me when I tell you that she’s not who I want. I don’t really care if I never see her again.”

“She’ll be back, Josh. Scorned women rarely take no for an answer.”

“If she comes back, she’ll see how happily married and in love I am, and realize that she’ll never have a place in my heart. It’s all yours, Joey, there’s no room for anyone else.”

We sit like this, in silence, holding each other for longer than I thought we would. In my mind, I figured we’d be shedding our clothes and truly consummating our marriage. I don’t blame her really for wanting to wait. I suppose if the tables were turned I’d feel the same way.

She tries to get up. “I need to take a shower.”

“Can I come with you?” I ask, waggling my eyes at her. She laughs and nods, bringing me a little more comfort.

“California is always in a drought, right? We might as well conserve water.”

“Yes, we should.” I walk behind her with my hands on her hips as I try to kiss her neck. “We need to talk about living arrangements, too. My apartment is small and I have a roommate. Plus, I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Do you want me to stay in L.A.?” she asks as she turns in my arms. The thought hadn’t occurred to me that she could go home while I was filming. The only problem with that is the media will eat her alive, assuming we’ve split up again, and I don’t want her to have that kind of drama.

“No, I think tomorrow we’ll look for a place together.”

“What about your roommate?”

“I’ll help him find someone to take my spot.”

Joey turns again and pulls her hair to the side. She peers over her shoulder with a wicked glint in her eye.

“Can you help me?”

“With pleasure, Mrs. Wilson.”

“Ooh, I like the sound of that.”

“Mhm, I like the sound your zipper makes as it reveals your back to me.” I’m instantly hard, just by staring at her back.

She pulls the front off and lets the dress pool at her feet. My wife is rocking a white thong with a garter that I find incredibly sexy. When she faces me, her breasts are bare and my erection is playing tentmaker behind my trousers.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she says, pointing her finger.

My clothes start to come off quicker than I can count to five. Joey methodically removes the garters, one clip at time, teasing me with every flick of her finger, and begins rolling her stockings down her legs. As soon as my drawers are around my ankles, she shimmies out of her thong, letting it fall to join the rest of her clothes.

“Before we get into the shower, I have something to say.”

“What’s that, Joey?”

She steps closer to me, her taut nipples pressing against my chest. “You have a lot of making up to do and it starts now.”

Before I can respond, she steps into the shower and turns on the water. “Well fuck me, my wife has a dirty side.”

“W
hat did you mean when you said you’ll be strong for me in the car?” My fingers play with Josh’s chest, roaming over the planes of his abs and pecs. His abs are like a maze, except I can’t solve it. Every now and again, he stills my hand because I’m tickling him, only to let it go so I can start over again.

“I think I spoke without thinking,” he replies. “But now that I think about it, it means I’m going to be taking the brunt of everything coming our way.”

“What does that mean?” Sitting up on my elbow, I look at him quizzically. The white sheet falls away, exposing my breasts. Josh takes his finger and runs it down over my breast, making me shiver.

“Drama,” he says, sighing. “I have a feeling that Jules isn’t going to go away any time soon, and I don’t want you to worry about her. I don’t love her, never did. You’re the one I’m in love with and I can’t imagine not telling you that every day, multiple times a day.”

Josh pulls me close, capturing my lips. Every kiss since I said yes has been different. Instead of butterflies taking flight, leaving me tingling, it’s fireworks on New Year’s Eve or the most thrilling rollercoaster at Disney. It’s the hairs on my arms standing on end, and goose bumps prickling my skin. It’s like he was reserved during our stint on reality TV and now that we’re together and the cameras are off, he’s being himself. The
real
Joshua Wilson and not the celebrity who I’m used to holding back on his feelings while in public. It’s still hard to think he was acting inside the house because I know he wasn’t, but that’s the only way I can explain it.