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“Okay. I’ll be in touch.” She was about to end the call when guilt and a lifetime of bowing down to her mother kicked back in, right on schedule. “Thank you. And thanks to Father as well. I appreciate your extra effort, and I’m sorry if I’ve caused either of you or Ethan any worry. But I’m fine.” She gazed up into West’s concerned expression, his hand on her hair a lifeline she wanted to hold onto with both hands. “I’m better than fine.”
Her mother made a derisive noise and ended the call.
Lauren shut off her phone and tossed it on the dresser, facing the wall for a long moment while West cupped her shoulders and nuzzled the top of her head. They were both completely naked and it was as natural as if they’d known each other a lifetime.
But they hadn’t.
They hadn’t.
“She’s a rigid, cold woman,” she whispered, unable to raise her voice. “She always has been. She and my father live for appearances, and I’ve been a painful disappointment since the day I was born and the nurse called me fat.”
“What?”
“I was a big baby. Shocker, since I’m big all over now too.” She waved a hand at her shape. “My mother was always a perfect size four, and she nearly died having me. She was convinced this was because I was too large, and was only compounded when the nurse commented how I was awfully chubby for a newborn. So my mother put me on my first diet in preschool. ‘No cupcakes or sweets for Lauren. She’s trying to reduce.’” Lauren laughed bitterly and rubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes. “I was three. I didn’t even know what reduce meant.”
West rubbed her upper arms. “You’re perfect, and she’s a bitch. I’m sorry, I know she’s your mother, and I shouldn’t speak negatively about her. But she’s a goddamn bitch if she treated you that way.”
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Gathering her courage, she turned to face him. He didn’t step back, and the way his gaze warmed as he looked her over—though he quickly tried to focus only on her face—went miles to making up for her mother’s thoughtlessness. “What you heard her say isn’t how I feel. I just want you to know that. If something crazy happened, and one of those stupid British condoms broke, and I ended up—” She sucked in a breath and blew it out again. “Any child would be lucky to have you for a father. Any woman who closed you out of her life is insane.”
He shut his eyes and framed her face in his hands, tipping his forehead to hers.
She reached up to cover his hands with her own. “What are we doing, West?”
Eyes still closed, he shook his head.
Steeling her shoulders, she nodded. Okay then. She would just have to take it minute by minute then. No labels. No guideposts for where to go next. Just feeling her way, with him right by her side.
Until he wasn’t anymore.
“Thank you,” he whispered, opening his eyes and assuaging so many of her fears with that one powerful glance.
She was still reeling when he gripped her hand and led her to the bed, pulling her onto his lap without a thought for how heavy she was. She shifted, trying to somehow make herself smaller, and grimaced at the flare of heat in her backside. He simply curved her against his chest and rubbed her hip, spreading warmth through her in a whole new way.
They just sat like that for a long time, with the sounds of the hotel waking up and bustling all around them. Carts wheeling down the hall, the soft snick of doors opening and closing.
“What does your tattoo mean?” she mumbled with her face pressed against his throat.
Slowly, he continued rubbing her hip. She was certain he would do it for hours if she only asked. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t spanked her there. The comfort his big, callused hands offered was immeasurable.
“Which one? I have many.”
She reached over his left shoulder to trace the triangle, and he nodded, recognizing the shape. “Ryan and Michael have matching ones. We got them in college. They lasted longer than I did.” His lips quirked. “Three parts of a whole. We were a unit. Since none of us really had a traditional family, that was important. Or if we did have a family, it was fucked up. Michael’s dad married Lila when she was fresh off the farm. Barely eighteen, starry-eyed, the whole bit. She was only a few years older than Michael.”
“Wow. So he must’ve been in teenage hell.” When West frowned, she raised her brows. “Gorgeous mother-in-law? Come on. I might be innocent but I know how the teenage male penis works. I found enough of them trying to work their way into my hands.”
His laughter had to be the best sound she’d ever heard. “You have a way with words, Lo.”
“Thank you. So you’ll buy my forthcoming book on the female orgasm?” She slugged him lightly in the shoulder. “You might learn a thing or two.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” He kissed her, so briefly she thought she’d imagined it. “I already am.”
“What about your family? Unless you don’t want to tell me. And if so, I’ll probably pout and withhold sex for at least fifteen minutes and/or when the ice melts.”
He grinned and tucked her hair behind her ear. “We have to leave soon. The bus rolls on. Back to LA next. A pair of shows at the Roxy next week. One on our own then a charity gig with some other bands. So technically if you wanted to go back to Ethan’s—“ He broke off and shook his head. “I can’t even say that with a straight face. I live with Ryan. So you can hang with us for the week, if that works for you.”
“Bachelor pad with Ryan, huh?” She poked him in the ribs. “Will I be interrupting any wild orgies?”
