Listen to Your Heart

Chapter Seventeen

"It goes without saying, I wish we could just go together tonight." Bradley settled onto the couch, folding his hands in his lap. "I know that we can't," he added hurriedly, "but it still would have been---I don't know, nice, I guess."

She perched on the armchair across from him. "We don't need to make a public display for it to matter, B." The slightly wounded expression that crossed over his face made her sigh and she moved to sit next to him, doing a quick scan of the backstage area outside of the green room to ensure they had privacy. "I didn't it mean it like that." She planted an apologetic kiss on his cheek, making a little noise in the back of her throat when he took her chin in his hands, their mouths meeting.

"I know you didn't."

His reassurance couldn't quell how her stomach twisted. "I just think with everything going on, keeping private is the best course of action. Until things are squared away with Lea...we don't have to do any big announcements, anyway. Not our style."

Kneading the tops of her shoulders, he spoke lowly into her ear, "I don't need any fanfare or public declarations, Stef. Never have. Just you."

The little shades of Jackson that stuck with him never failed to be endearing and the way his voice seemed to sink into a deep timbre whenever he had to say something serious or even more so when he was turned on (much to her delight) was at the top of the list.

"I don't want to share you," she confessed. "Not when it's taken us so long to get here." She ran her hands over his jaw, fingers getting caught up in the stubble. Now that she could, Stefani reflected constantly on how damn beautiful he always looked, even in just his typical attire of a t-shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap, usually worn backward, just as good as he looked in a suit. He also smelled ridiculously delicious, not just his cologne but his skin and though she'd let the thought fleetingly passed through her mind when they'd been in constant close proximity on set, entertaining it aloud or acknowledging she was with him now and she had every right to do so was new to her. New, but she reveled in it—reveled in being with him. Bradley, for his part, seemed to find it amusing how often she complimented him and buried her nose in his chest. His teasing was gentle, though, and without him saying so, she knew he loved the constant contact. They were both extremely physically affectionate people and she recalled him saying during one of their many in-depth conversations, Irina wasn't into random displays of affection outside of the bedroom. Because of that and also because she couldn't get nearly enough of him, she made certain to let him know, with and without words, just how much she adored him.

"Being private is one thing," he mused, his hand coming to rest on her kneecap, "but people are weirdly interested in us. I mean, I get it—it's because of the film but it sucks not knowing if a fucking pap is going to jump out of the bushes when I'm leaving your house."

"If that happens, we deal with it. As much as it would suck for it to come out like that, we both know that's the nature of this business, sometimes."

"That was a very calm response." His fingers danced on the skin exposed from the holes of her jeans and the minute gesture sent a tiny shockwave of pleasure from somewhere down low in her belly.

"Yeah, well, you bring out calmness in me."

And it was true. There was something about his mere presence that immediately steadied her. She was generally a whirling dervish of a human being who had to stay busy at all times lest she fell into a deep depression but Bradley while having a strong work ethic of his own, counterbalanced her hyper personality with a sort of soothing energy. She'd felt it the minute she stepped on his set and it had carried over into their relationship as well.