I was woken early by Henry caressing me. He pressed tiny kisses down my shoulder, gently bringing me out of slumber. His soft, warm body pressed against me, letting me feel his arousal. "Good morning," I muttered. I rolled onto my back, giving him free access.
Our lovemaking was languid and sensual that morning. Henry didn't seem to be in any rush as he kissed every inch of my body, before pushing me into a long, soul-shaking orgasm. He held me tight as I shuddered and shook around him, my climax going on and on. He gazed into my eyes as he let go, his perfect mouth forming an 'O' as he pressed in deep.
"I could get used to waking up like this," he said, as I lay in his arms, comfortable and boneless. I turned to face him. He had a faraway look in his eyes. A tiny part of me worried it was getting too serious, too fast, but the loudest voice in my head told me to enjoy the ride and stop worrying about the future.
"I'll need to go home to my own flat one night soon. There's stuff I need to catch up with," I told him. He snuggled in a bit closer.
"I'll stay there with you then."
So that's how it began, after almost no time, we became inseparable. My work were delighted that Henry was being seen with his 'normal' girlfriend, although I'd cringed at that title, while I was able to mix work and personal with complete impunity. It was probably the happiest few weeks of my life.
Henry was an intense lover, falling hard and fast into a deep relationship, insisting on being together almost every possible moment. I even sat in his trailer while he worked, him filming, me catching up on emails and calls. I relaxed with him and enjoyed not only the novelty of being in a relationship, but also the closeness that the two of us shared. He blew apart all my preconceived notions about asshole actors with his gentle humour and beautiful manners.
I met some of his family on a short trip to Jersey, which was great. His parents were lovely, and welcomed me warmly. We'd had a couple of dinners in London with various brothers of his, so I felt accepted and comfortable with them. My parents had met him when they came up for a weekend. I think Mum had been a bit dazzled by his extraordinary good looks, but she tried her best not to let it show. Henry and I had taken them to The Ivy, which I knew my Dad would like, as he wasn't great with foreign food.
We even managed a whole weekend away together, driving down to a tiny cottage in Devon for two gorgeous sunny days in July. In between lovemaking, we walked, talked and explored nearby villages.
On the Sunday, we packed a picnic in a hamper we'd found in the cottage, alongside a tartan blanket, and set off into the woods behind the house. We held hands as we wandered along the meandering paths, enjoying the shade of the trees and the dappled sunshine dancing around us. Eventually we came upon a small clearing and spread out the blanket on the soft grass. Henry opened a bottle of wine, poured us both a glass, and lay back to survey the scenery. "This is heaven on earth," he pronounced. I hummed my agreement. "When I'm finished as an actor, I'd like to retire someplace like this. Somewhere rural and peaceful, with no hustling for publicity, and no paparazzi."
I propped myself up on my elbow to look at him. He had that same wistful expression that I'd come to know so well. "Is it bothering you? You know, the fame thing?"
He smiled, "Only insofar as I worry that it'll affect us, that you'll get fed up with all the scrutiny and nasty comments." He paused, gazing into my eyes, "I'm in love with you Sarah, and I worry that by loving you, I'm exposing you to the whole world tearing you apart."
I reeled at his words. Although we'd become close, it was the first time he'd admitted he was in love. They'd been the words I'd desperately wanted to hear. "I'm in love with you too," I admitted, "and it'll take more than being told I have man hands to scare me away."
He smiled tentatively. "I couldn't bear to see you upset or hurt. I know how nasty some of my fans can be about the women I've been out with."
"Have you been in love before?" I needed to know.
"Not like this, no. I've been in lust, and I've been fond of past girlfriends, but I've never felt like this before. Have you?"
I shook my head. My previous relationships had seemed grey and bland compared to this. Henry loved in glorious technicolor, an all-encompassing type of love. I had no doubts about the depth of his feelings towards me, he was so passionate both in and out of the bedroom. When we weren't making love, we were making each other laugh, sharing secrets, or just able to be together in companionable silence. I'd never been so intimate with another human being.
He leaned over to kiss me, a fierce, passionate kiss, filled with the emotions we were both experiencing. The picnic lay forgotten as we spent a magical afternoon in the woods, just touching, caressing, and loving each other. I floated back to the cottage on a cloud.
I convinced myself that what we had was unique, invincible. His fans could say what they liked, I didn't care. I was too busy being loved by my wonderful, gorgeous man to be bothered about other people's opinions. We hadn't spent a night apart in weeks and when it was time to fly to Rome for his filming, I hadn't even bothered to book a second hotel room for myself.
The hotel was amazing. Our room was enormous, with a fabulous view. We got there pretty late in the evening, too late to go out, so ordered some room service, and opened the bottle of champagne from the mini bar. "To Rome!" Henry raised his glass in a toast. "The most romantic city on Earth." I clinked my glass with his. We'd barely sipped our champagne, when Henry's phone began to ring. Scowling, he pulled it from his pocket and answered it without checking the screen.
I watched his face go a little pale, and he flicked his eyes away from mine. "What are you doing in Rome?" He asked the caller. I could make out a woman's voice. "I don't care if you need the publicity, I'm here with my girlfriend. You told me to get lost and meet someone else, so I did."
The caller sounded angry.
"I'll talk to her. Maybe she'll understand."
He stood up and walked out onto the terrace for some privacy. My blood ran cold. After all the open-ness, and sharing of secrets, I was being shut out. My mind raced with all the possibilities. I debated trying to listen, but I felt rooted to the spot, unable to move, not able to think clearly as to what to do.
Eventually Henry came back. He looked sheepish, embarrassed. "Who was that?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
"It was my ex," he said without emotion. "She wants to meet me for dinner tomorrow night."
