Beaus & Arrows A Collection of Sweet & Sexy Stories Copyright © 2017 by SE Hall, Aria Cole, Ava Harrison, MJ Fields, Nicola Rendell, JL Berg, Jessica Prince, Rachel Blaufeld, Ilsa Madden-Mills, Jen Frederick, Yessi Smith, Rebecca Yarros, Mandi Beck, Abby Brooks, Sharon Hamilton, Jessica Hawkins, LJ Shen, Callie Anderson, Stephie Walls, Callie Harper, Ashley Suzanne, and Liv Morris. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental. Cover Design by Lori Jackson Design Formatting by Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction
Table of Contents Front Matter About Beaus & Arrows Perfectly Us Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Epilogue Connect With Abby Right For Love Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Epilogue More Sexy & Sweet Reads Pinnacle - A Destined Series Story Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five About the Author Other Works By Ashley Suzanne The Wedding-Night Stand
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Epilogue By Ava Harrison About the Author One Night Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five About Callie Anderson Books by Callie Anderson All Wrong Connect with Callie Harper Love on a Plane Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five About the Author Taking My Shot About the Author Someone Not You Chapter One
Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Connect with Jessica Hawkins A Very Locklaine Valentine Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Connect With Jessica Books by Jessica Prince What Love Built About the Author Books by J.L. Berg Special Delivery Prologue Fate Ready, Set, Go Dinner is served Epilogue About Liv Morris Mr. First Time Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Epilogue Rhythm
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Also By Mandi Places To Find Mandi On The Internet Livi's Love Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Epilogue About The Authors Yes, Yes, Yes Connect with Nicola Rendell Game For Two Other Titles By Rachel Blaufeld About the Author Backfire Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Keep up with Rebecca Yarros!
Entwined Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six About the Author Books by S.E. Hall Love and Latte Author’s Note Chapter One Chapter Two Sharon Hamilton’s book list Follow Her Beauty Knot Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Connect With Stephie The Brightest Star About the Author Also by Yessi Smith
Perfectly Us by Abby Brooks: A secret Valentine's Day proposal almost ruins everything for this small town couple. Right For Love.by Aria Cole: One night, one dress, him and her. But can one swipe right really lead to love? Pinnacle - A Destined Series Story by Ashley Suzanne: A sexy, NYC getaway weekend for Mira and Skylar lead them to altar ... just not their own! The Wedding-Night Stand by Ava Harrison: When one night of passion turns into forever. One Night by Callie Anderson: Landon Winthrop walked into my life and consumed my mind, body, and heart. The only problem--he's my boss. All Wrong by Callie Harper: From spilling hot coffee all down her shirt to getting locked in a closet at a party, Sarah’s Valentine’s Day is going all wrong. But when an insanely hot crush gets involved, can some things go so wrong they become just right? Love on a Plane by Ilsa Madden-Mills: Spider didn't mean to fall for the uptight girl he sat next to on the plane. But once they kissed, all common sense went out the tiny window next to her. Too bad she was his future stepsister… Taking My Shot by Jen Frederick: Six months ago, Gabe Madison wasn't ready for a shy invitation from Sweeney Barrows. Now she's single, and Madison isn't going to allow her to slip through his fingers again. Someone Not You by Jessica Hawkins: Justin's dazzling smile and wit have never failed him in the dating department—until his boss challenges him to win a date with the one girl who might be immune to his charms. A Very Locklaine Valentine by Jessica Prince: The story of Richard's epically disastrous proposal to Delilah. What Love Built by JL Berg: The entire Cavenaugh family reunites for what is sure to be a very memorable Valentine's Day.
Special Delivery by Liv Morris Mr. First Time by LJ Shen: Mr. First Time: A real-life story about first love, first kiss and all the things that make your heart beat faster. Rhythm by Mandi Beck: Grab front row seats to Wrecked's Valentine's Day show and see just how sexy loving a rock star can be. Especially when he's got a stash of lollipops. Livi's Love by MJ Fields: A Caldwell Brothers novella. Hendrix Caldwell loves his woman hard and his dog, too. Livi Caldwell is surrounded in a new world full of love, devotion, and a man who will do anything to keep her from stressing. Floyd, the couple's pit bull has found herself in a predicament. What lengths will Hendrix go to for Livi and Floyd? In the end, Livi teaches her man once again there is always more love in this family to go around. Yes, Yes, Yes by Nicola Rendell: A chocolate tasting gets dirty. Game For Two: A Valentine's Staycation by Rachel Blaufeld: Drew & Jules escape the madness for a romantic night at the beach. Backfire by Rebecca Yarros: Bash's perfectly planned proposal goes awry when he's called away for a fire. Entwined by SE Hall: My Valentine's Day gift to all of you who asked for it- the wedding of Dane Kendrick and Laney Jo Walker. Love and Latte by Sharon Hamilton Beauty Knot by Stephie Walls: From marks and scars to joy and triumph, Callie and Liam finally get their fairytale. After nine years, this shotgun wedding goes every way but smoothly. The Brightest Star by Yessi Smith: A story about two souls who continue to fall deeper into each other every day, as life unravels around them.
Perfectly Us
by Abby Brooks
Chapter One
Kate
IF I HAD known I was going to end this day crying in the bathroom at work, I would have used waterproof
mascara. Having an emotional breakdown in a public space is bad enough and raccoon eyes will only make things worse—especially since there's not a lot of room to hide here at the Brookside Fire Department where I work as a dispatcher. I lean against the sink and dab at my face with a balled-up paper towel even though new tears continue to gleam and shimmer in my eyes, mocking my efforts. The bathroom door creaks open. “Kate?” My stomach twists at the sound of my friend’s voice. I angle my head so my hair hides my face, a thick curtain of auburn curls blocking my tears from Sarah’s eyes. “I’m okay.” I sniff. “I just need a minute.” Sarah closes the door and the lock clicks into place. “Nice try, but I’m not buying it. I saw you come back from your lunch with Matt.” She crosses the room and tucks my hair behind my ear. Now there's nothing hiding my blotchy skin, reddened nose, and smeared makeup. Sarah’s face crumbles. “Oh, sweetie! What happened?” I swallow hard. “It’s nothing.” Or nothing I want to discuss here, especially because Matt’s out there somewhere. Most days it’s great working together. Five years into our relationship and I still crave more time with him. But today? When I’m this upset? All I want is to get control of myself and get through this without him knowing. “Nope. Not buying that either. It’s definitely something. The Kate Hardaway I know is an impenetrable fortress. Either you got attacked by body snatchers or something shitty happened at lunch.” Sarah smiles while scanning my face for my reaction. I try to smile and look brave, but it’s hard to fake strength when I’m afraid my whole life is falling down around me. Sarah draws her eyebrows together and leans against the sink. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” “Yeah.” I sigh and close my eyes, begging the tears to stop. “Or maybe not.” I open my eyes. “I’m sure I'm overreacting.” “Why don’t you explain what happened and I’ll let you know if you’re overreacting or not.” Sarah crosses her arms over her chest and leans closer to me. What happened? One little statement that changes nothing and everything in the same instant.
“Matt said he didn’t see himself ever getting married.” Fresh tears gather as I speak. “And I know it shouldn’t bother me. We’ve been living together for three years. We’re basically already married. But…” I flare my hands. “But you’ve been dreaming of marrying Matt Hamilton since before he even asked you out?” Sarah hands me a new paper towel. “And who could blame you? A sexy blond firefighter who looks more like a Viking than a guy from this century? And he’s nice on top of it?” I stare at her, widening my eyes in exasperation. “The last thing I need right now is a reminder of how perfect he his.” She grimaces. “Sorry. I know how much you’ve been hoping for a proposal.” I nod. “And I want kids someday. And I’m almost thirty. And…” My lips pull down into a frown as the real reason I’m upset comes out. “I thought he and I were on the same page. I thought, you know, we were like soulmates or something.” I shrug, embarrassed. “And now this makes me think I’ve been wrong about him this whole time.” That last admission pulls a fresh set of tears out of me. Not just the polite ones that have been leaking out of my eyes for the last twenty minutes, but deep, gut-wrenching sobs. I love Matt with all my everything. Have spent years going on about how perfect we are together. How he’s everything I’ve ever needed all wrapped up in one sexy, firefighting package. But if he sees his future going one way and I see mine going another, how long can we last? This morning, concrete and steel made up my world, supported by a foundation of rock and stone. Now, it's quicksand shifting beneath my feet. “I know I sound like a spoiled brat, wanting more when I already have everything.” I swipe at my eyes again. “I just thought this would be the year, you know? That he’d find the perfect way to propose and we could get married and start a family. Now…?” I shrug, feeling helpless. “You need to talk to him.” “No way.” I shake my head. That's the last thing I need. “Not here. Not in front of everyone.” “Then when you guys get home, then. You need to be honest with him about how you feel.” “That’s the thing. I know I’ll cry the moment I start talking about it…” Understanding dawns on Sarah’s face. “And, because he’s such a good guy, he'll propose on the spot.” “Exactly. He’ll swoop me up and start trying to fix everything. I don’t want to manipulate him into proposing. I want him to want me. If forever's in our future, we need to be on the same page, you know?” Sarah licks her lips, nodding. “What are you going to do?” “I have no idea. I can’t imagine being around him and keeping all this bottled up. It'll eat at me. But Sarah,” I say, choking back a sob. “What if this is the end? What if I’ve been wrong about him? About us? What if he doesn't love me as much as I love him?” I clutch at my stomach, feeling nauseous. “You know what? You need to take a beat.” Sarah sits back on her heel. "If you can't be around him, then don't be around him." “What do you mean?” Just the thought of leaving Matt brings a new set of tears to my eyes.
Sarah wipes them from my cheeks. “I mean, come live with me for a few days. I’ve got that second bedroom I never use.” Can I do that? Can I walk away from Matt, the man I love more than anyone, because of one little thing he said over lunch? One little thing that might mean nothing? Or does it mean everything? Sarah grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Consider it a trial run. Figure out what life is like without him. Maybe you’ll find you’re better off. Or, you’ll realize you can be unconventional and skip the whole marriage thing. Either way, you'll know.” “I already know I can’t live without him.” I feel like I’m dying. Like I can’t breathe. Like the world has fractured and everything has turned upside down.” Sarah raises her eyebrows. “It’s your choice, babe. Matt’s an amazing guy. But if he’s not interested in the same future you are, maybe he’s not your amazing guy.” She shrugs. “I’ll support you either way. I just want you happy.” After giving me a long hug, Sarah leaves, proving why our friendship has lasted two decades. She gets me, knows I need space to tackle tough decisions. I stare at myself in the mirror. Try to make sense of everything when nothing in the world makes any sense at all. I'm numb. My thoughts are too thick to sort through. And going home to Matt, having to hide all this, that sounds like a special kind of hell. After a few long breaths, I wash my face and leave the bathroom. Head straight to my supervisor where I make a vague excuse about needing to leave. In a daze, I go home, pack my things, and walk out on the man I love more than anything in this world.
Chapter Two
Matt
IF I HAD known I would end the day with the woman I want to marry leaving me, I might have made
different choices. Five minutes ago, I walked through the front door, ready to wake Kate up by trailing kisses down her body. Now? I’m standing in the living room. In shock. Clutching a tear-stained note and realizing I messed up. In the space of a few moments, my whole life collapsed. She needs space. Time to think. Because she’s not sure we’re on the same path anymore. I crinkle up the note and ball it in my fist, laughing and shaking my head. When I told her I didn't ever see myself getting married, I meant to throw her off the scent. Valentine's Day is in a few days and I spent the last year planning the perfect proposal. The ring is in my pocket. Has been for days. Reservations at her favorite restaurant? Yep. Made those last week. As tired as I am after a twenty-four-hour shift, sleep will have to wait. I grab an energy drink out of the fridge, pull my coat back on, and head back out to my truck. Kate’s unhappy and I can’t tolerate that. Time to rescue her. I stink like sweat and burning things. Right after lunch, dispatch sent me out to a fender bender on I-26. It was standard, but kept me busy until after Kate’s shift ended. A few hours after that? A house fire. A serious one. It took until just a few hours ago to get it under control. Instead of showering at the station, I opted to come home and talk Kate into showering with me. I never dreamed I’d be coming home to an empty house. Not today, not ever. Kate is my forever and I have the ring in my pocket to prove it. My breath puffs in front of my face and bits of frost have already formed in the corners of the windshield. There’s nothing good about February. It’s cold and dreary and awful. Of course, by the end of this week, this month will hold a great memory for us. The month I propose. The purple flower in the dead of winter, the same color as February’s birthstone. I rub my hands together before backing out of the driveway and heading to Sarah’s apartment. It’s early and I bet they're still asleep, but damn it, I can’t spend a single day without my girl. Ten minutes later, I pull into a parking spot beside Sarah’s beat-up car and stride down the sidewalk to her front door. She answers before I knock. “I figured you’d be here sooner rather than later.” She leans on the doorframe, keeping the door more
closed than open. “Because you know I can’t let Kate walk away from us.” Sarah sneaks a look over her shoulder and then leans forward. “I don’t know, Matt. You messed up yesterday.” “Obviously. But I’m gonna need your help here.” “My help?” Sarah looks shocked. “I’m sorry Matt, I like you, I really do. But Kate is my first priority.” I dig into my coat pocket and pull out the small black box, opening it to show Sarah the diamond ring inside. Her eyes go wide. “I think you have the wrong woman,” she says, her hand covering her heart. “I’ve been planning this for the last year. Scraping money together for the ring. Trying to keep it secret because that’s what she wants.” Sarah closes her eyes, nodding her head. “A surprise Valentine’s Day proposal. Kate’s talked about that since we were teenagers.” “Exactly. She’s my everything and I want to give her everything in return. My life is hers.” “Dude, she’s pissed off. You might have to scrap the whole secret thing.” There’s movement from deeper in the apartment and she glances over her shoulder again. It’s only three more days, right? Kate will come around as soon as she understands. “It’s not perfect if it’s not a surprise. It has to be exactly the way she’s always imagined it. You have to help me but you can’t tell her anything.” Kate’s voice, thick with sleep, comes from somewhere behind Sarah. “Who’s there?” Sarah opens the door wider while I jam the ring back into my coat pocket. Kate looks awful. Her eyes are red and swollen, her lips rimmed in white. She’s been crying, and recently. I look to Sarah, silently begging her to say exactly what my girl needs to hear. Kate notices me and her eyes go cold. I smile and shrug, my hand still wrapped around the black velvet box in my pocket. “Morning, beautiful.” She stares at me, her jaw set, her lower lip trembling. And then, without a word, she steps forward and closes the door between us.
Chapter Three
Kate
SARAH TAKES ME by the hand and leads me into the kitchen. "Sit," she says, pointing towards the table. She
grabs two mugs out of the cupboard and fills them both with coffee. “He wants you back, you know.” she says as she sets one down in front of me. “Of course he does.” I wrap both hands around the mug and hold it close to my face. “I mean, look at me. Who doesn’t want some of this?” I don’t need to look in the mirror to know I look awful. I’ve been up almost all night with a head full of loneliness, regret, and question marks. Sarah’s warm laughter fills the small kitchen. She sips her coffee and sighs in pleasure, just like she has with every cup of coffee for her entire life. “He loves you.” “And I love him. But—” I set my mug down and wave a hand—“is love enough?” “I’d say it goes pretty far.” “Right. But…” I sigh. It’s all so confusing. For every thought I have on the subject, I have an equally strong opposing thought. “No buts.” Sarah runs a hand up into her starkly black hair and shakes it out. “You and Matt are good together. Great even. You need to talk to him.” “I can’t. Not now. Not when I’m so confused. I love him so much, Sarah. So. Much. It was all I could do to shut the door on him just now.” Sarah sucks her upper lip into her mouth and chews on it, a sure sign she's trying not to say something. A rush of gratitude warms me. I couldn't stand it if she spent the morning telling me what to think about this situation. Despite a raging headache, I smile at my friend. “Thank you for being here for me. For not judging me when I contemplate walking away from someone like Matt.” “Oh, I’m judging.” Sarah winks at me. “A hot fireman who treats you like a princess? I'm just waiting for you to walk away so I can make a move.” I laugh. “There she is.” A broad smile lights Sarah’s face. “I knew my sweet friend was in there somewhere. Damsel in distress is not a good look for you.” “You be careful,” I say, pointing a stern finger her way. “Everything’s a good look for me. You know
that better than anyone.” Sarah feigns shock. “Humble much?” I laugh and finish my coffee, enjoying Sarah’s company while thoughts of Matt flit through my head.
WHEN I SHOW up to work the next day, there’s a vase on my desk with four mismatched flowers trying to
topple out of it. The haphazard arrangement surprises me and I study it, pursing my eyebrows in confusion. Matt’s more of a dozen red roses kind of guy. I deposit my purse on my chair and find a note, just a few lines of his neat print marching across the page. Green Hydrangea, the color of Peridot. August’s birthstone. The month I first met you. The Cornflower. Blue like a sapphire. September. The month I knew I loved you. A white rose. Like a pearl. June’s birthstone. The month you moved in with me. And a purple orchid. I miss you. I need you. Come home to me. Matt.
I stare at the strange mix of flowers and smile. The touching gesture is Matt's forte. But what could the purple orchid stand for? A quick Google search tells me that February’s birthstone is purple. What's so special about February? As touching as the gesture is, the awkward arrangement takes up too much desk space. Careful not to meet any of the questioning eyes around me, I carry the vase into the locker room and set it down. Matt has the day off, but I keep expecting him to come up behind me, wrap his arm around my waist and pull me close. To whisper in my ear. To kiss me on the neck and remind me that I’m his, always, no matter how much distance I put between us. I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved when he never shows up.
Matt
PEERING OUT FROM around a corner with Sarah, I watch Kate read the card I left on her desk this morning.
"She's smiling," I whisper.
"Of course she's smiling. Who wouldn't smile at such a sweet gesture?" It stings when she marches the vase into the locker room, but I’d be a fool to let that bother me. Kate’s quiet but strong. Shy but determined. If one simple gesture was enough to change her mind, she wouldn’t be the woman I fell in love with. “You ready for me to tell her yet?” asks Sarah, her pale blue eyes wide as she peers up at me. “How many times do I have to tell you this?” I widen my eyes and flare my hands. “If you tell her, it won’t be a surprise and therefore won’t be perfect anymore.” “You’re being such a man.” The statement baffles me. “So?” “Let me try to spell this out for you so you can hear me through all that rugged handsomeness. If I don’t tell her, then you might not get a chance to propose. And that's definitely not perfect.” Sarah shrugs. “Make sense now?” “Just watch.” I turn to Sarah in time to see Ben, one of our newest firefighters, heading our way. He’s every cliché of every cocksure noobie ever. From the stupid way he saunters up to us to the black t-shirt —two sizes too small with the words I FIGHT WHAT YOU FEAR stretched across his chest. “Can’t get enough of this place, can ya? I get it,” he says, looking so proud of himself I’d roll my eyes if I didn’t remember feeling the same way when I first started out. With one last peek at Kate—she’s lifting her dark curls up off her neck—I give my attention to Ben, making a lame excuse as I head to the door. Because our dispatchers work twelve-hour shifts, Kate won’t get off until after dinner, which means I have to kill time for most of the day. When she pulls into the parking lot outside of Sarah’s apartment, I’m waiting for her. Hands shoved in my pocket. Fingers wrapped around the black velvet box hiding there. Back hunched against the cold. She slows when she sees me. The steady crunch of her boots in the new-fallen snow falter and then stop altogether. “Matt,” she says my name like it’s both a curse and a prayer, shifting the vase of flowers in her arms. I push off the wall and take her face in my hands. Cup her cheeks and stare down into her warm, brown eyes. It’s only been a day but it feels like a lifetime. “Come home to me,” I say, running my thumb along her cheekbone. Tears waver in her eyes. “I can’t think when you’re around. Not clearly anyway. And I really need to think.” I could do it right now. Drop to one knee in front of her. Pull out the ring. Ask her to be my reason for everything for the rest of my life. I could put all this nonsense behind us and bring her home with me, where she belongs. But I don’t. If I propose now, she’ll assume it’s because she’s upset. That I’m not genuine. And my perfect girl,
who I want to make perfectly happy, will doubt my motivations for the rest of our life. I need her to believe that I'm choosing her because of who she is and not how she’s acting. So instead of saying anything, I lower my lips to hers and kiss her. Draw her close. Press her body to mine. At first she stiffens, but then melts into me, her lips parting with a sigh. Way before I'm ready, I pull away. Pause long enough for her to say something, anything, and when she says nothing, I drop a kiss on her forehead, shove my hands in my pockets, and walk away.
Chapter Four
Kate
I TUMBLE INTO bed, drunk on his kiss. The memory of those piercing blue eyes staring into mine. His
words, so simple. Come home to me. I wonder if he knows that he’s my home. Wherever he is, that’s where I’m most comfortable. I pull the comforter up around my chin, the cheap fabric scratching my skin as the bedsprings protest my movement, and fall asleep smiling. The next day at work, four balloons wait for me at my desk. Like the flowers, they’re each a different color. Green. Blue. White. And purple. It’s got to mean something, but if he thinks he’s being clear, he’s got another thing coming to him. I haven’t the foggiest idea what the purple one stands for. That doesn’t stop me from appreciating the gesture, though. How many men remember big things like anniversaries, let alone little things like the day we first met? I spend the day distracted, certain Matt is around the corner, bound to saunter up to me any minute. As the hours pass, the certainty fades, even though hope continues to bloom in my chest until my shift ends and he never shows. Even then, I expect to find him leaning against the wall outside Sarah’s apartment, hands shoved in his pockets, that slightly crooked grin of his smeared across his face. Instead, I find Sarah, bouncing excitedly just inside the door. “Balloons? What? Are we in junior high or something?” She scrunches up her nose and stares at them like they smell funny. “He’s just being sweet. I kinda needed it.” “Nope. What you need is to come out and get drunk with me.” I know better than to go out for drinks with Sarah. She swears it will make me feel better, but I know what will happen. We’ll get drunk, she’ll find a hot guy, and I’ll be finding a taxi home all by my lonesome. But no matter how hard I protest, she’s not listening. And what can I say? I totally called it. The world slides past me while I lean against the door in the back of a cab, the heat from my body fogging up the window while I hope whoever threw up in here didn’t do it where I’m currently sitting. I
miss Matt. I missed him this morning. I missed him at work. I missed him when I came home to Sarah’s apartment instead of our house. And I spent the entire night feigning a smile for my friend when all I wanted was to curl up in his arms and breathe him in. The taxi pulls into a parking space in front of Sarah’s apartment and I fumble in my purse for some cash. Oh no. Cash. I don’t carry cash anymore. I pull out my wallet and peer into the thing as if I could somehow will some money to show up there with the power of my mind. But even after a few seconds of staring, the thing’s still empty. What am I going to do? I glance up just as someone tall, broad, and blond bends down to knock on the driver’s door. The cabbie cracks the window. “I’ll pay,” drawls a familiar voice. “It’s okay, Matt. I got this,” I say, meeting the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Do you take debit cards?” He shakes his head. “Nope,” he says and then turns to Matt who already has his wallet out. “You don’t have to do this,” I say as I half fall out of the cab. Matt catches me by the arm and finishes paying the cabbie. “Of course I do.” “Well, thank you, I guess.” “I’ve got you. Always. You know that.” Matt holds onto my arm as I stagger up the sidewalk. “Where are the balloons I got you?” “I set them free.” I slide my key into the lock. “Set them free?” “Yep.” I push open the door and pull Matt in with me. “Up into the sky. Didn’t want them to waste the best years of their life with me if I didn’t really want them.” The truth is, I did want them and I didn’t set them free. I’m just tipsy enough to feel feisty. The balloons are in the kitchen, tied to the vase filled with the flowers he gave me yesterday. “I want you, Kate.” Matt’s voice is low and thick and filled with so much emotion I have to laugh or I’ll cry. “Of course you do.” I flare my hands and turn in a slow circle. “I look hot in this outfit.” I shrug off my coat and start to head into the kitchen for a glass of water. He grabs my wrist and pulls me back into him. “No, silly. You. I want you. Come home to me.” I’m so close to saying yes it almost breaks me. A tiny piece of my heart splinters off, twisting and turning through my bloodstream. It would be so easy to give in. To come home and go back to our life together. To let myself love him even if I never do get to have his last name. Or his children. Is it really so
bad that I’ll be his girlfriend for the rest of our natural lives and never his wife? But, if he’s committed enough to give me the rest of his life, why isn’t he committed enough to give me his last name? Why keep that one thing separating us? “I can’t.” The words are a whisper, so hard to say I can barely say them at all. I look up at him, sadness etched into the frown lines around his mouth. “But you can stay,” I say, stepping into him, running my hands up his arms. “Here.” I tilt my head, angling my mouth towards his, inviting him to kiss me and not walk away because I’m drunk. “With me.” Matt lowers his face, his lips almost touching mine. “I love you, Kate,” he says before he threads his hands into my hair and consumes me. My heart races. My breath quickens. Warmth pools between my legs and my soul soars. As his hands roam my body—not a tourist, but a native who knows all the twists and turns—I rejoice in him. In this moment. In us. I run my hands up under his shirt, dig my nails into his skin. He growls into my mouth, pressing his hips into mine. The bulge of his cock strains against his jeans. There’s no turning back. Not now. Not when he’s my whole life and he’s right here, wanting me as much as I want him. I fumble open his button and slide my hand inside his pants, wrapping my fingers around his length. So hard and warm against my winter-chilled skin. His eyes slide closed. “Fuck. Kate.” “That’s right,” I say, grinning wickedly. “Fuck me.” His eyes spring open. His hands at my shirt, pulling it over my head. His lips on my throat, my collarbone, my breasts. Sighing and shifting, our harried breath fills the small room. We’re naked, bare to each other. He slides his hands under my ass, lifts me up, and pins me against the wall. His gaze captures mine as he slides into me. I moan, complete for the first time in days. Lost in the beauty of how we are together. “Oh fuck, Matt. I missed you.” He thrusts. “I need you, Kate.” Thrusts again. “I love you so fucking much.” His eyes burn into mine. His words unlock my heart. Tears form in my eyes and I come. Hard. My screams fill my friend's apartment while my nails dig into the flesh at his shoulders. Matt presses his forehead to mine and spills inside me, never once looking away. I kiss him, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth. “Stay with me,” I say, and he does.
Chapter Five
Matt
I WISH I could say that I took Kate into the guest room, curled up beside her, and got a good night’s rest,
especially considering I have to work at six thirty in the morning. You know what? Fuck that. I don’t wish that at all. I’m more than happy to stay up all night with her. I’ve missed Kate so much. I don't care how tired I am tomorrow. It'll be worth it. “Thank you for not kicking me out.” I prop myself up on my elbow and trail a finger along the flare of her hip and the curve of her waist. Goosebumps flare across her skin. “Thank you for staying with me.” Kate smiles and it’s heaven. “But you’ll have to leave before Sarah gets here. I don’t feel like explaining this to her.” I frown. “First of all, you’re a grown woman. My grown woman. And Sarah’s not your keeper.” I wink to take the sting out of my words. “And second of all, I have to be at the fire station at six thirty. I’m sure I’ll be out of here before she comes wandering in.” Kate widens her eyes. “What are you even doing awake right now?” “Stealing every last minute I can with you.” A blush flares across her cheeks and she drops her eyes, smiling. She’s silent, fighting whatever nasty thoughts are swirling around in her head. Kate’s smart. Almost too smart. She can think herself into such a state of anxiety I don’t know how she functions some days. She’s also kind-hearted and loyal. Protective of the few people she lets into her heart. Whatever war she’s fighting with herself is sure to be nasty. I can end it now by pulling that little box out of my pocket and telling her just how much I love her. But then it wouldn’t be perfect. And damn it, I've spent a year making sure it's everything she wanted. It took a lot of prying to get her to even describe her dream proposal. She didn’t want to tell me and dictate to me how to do it. Hell, she didn’t even want to talk about marriage because if it happened, she wanted it to be on my terms. When I was ready. Well, I’m ready now and I’ve found one hell of a perfect woman and damn it, I’m going to make it perfect for her. “What are you thinking about?” she asks, biting her lip.
“You. Us.” She takes a breath, those thick lashes fluttering as she tries to sort out exactly what she wants to say. I put a finger to her lips. “I know you have a lot of soul-searching to do. I’m not pushing. But, Kate? I can’t imagine spending Valentine’s Day without you. I’ve been planning a big night for us. Been sneaking around for months to get all the reservations made without you knowing.” I smile. “Please. Don’t make any decisions about us yet.” Her eyes flicker across my face, her thoughts darkening her eyes. Am I an ass for drawing this out? For torturing her like this? Or will it only make the gesture all the more grand and meaningful? Valentine’s Day is only two days away. Surely that’s not too long to make her wait. Kate finally nods, a smile brightening her face. “I would love that, Matt. I really would.” The smile stretches into a yawn. “Come on, love. Let’s get my tired girl some sleep.” I hold out my arm and she flips over, putting her back against me as she wraps my arm around her stomach. It feels so good. So right. I can’t wait until I have her back in my arms every night.
I DRIFT IN and out of sleep, keeping an eye on my phone so I can get up before my alarm. After a little less
than two hours of rest, I slide out of bed just before six. I should be exhausted but I’m not. The thought of proposing to this woman tomorrow night exhilarates me. Maybe I’ll feel differently once I’ve spent a few hours at work, but right now I’m operating somewhere above cloud nine. Careful not to make a sound, I creep out of the bedroom and head out into the living room for my clothes. I remember her fevered kiss. The chill of her fingers against my dick. God, that woman. Five years in and she still sets me on fire. That body. Those curves. The way she holds herself with such reserve all day long only to drop all her defenses with me in bed. By the time I find my underwear near the front door, I’m completely hard. The scrape of a key in the lock jolts me into action and I pull my boxer briefs on just in time for Sarah to step into the apartment. Her eyes go from my face, to my bare chest, and right down to my crotch. “Nice to see you, too,” she says, raising her eyebrows as she closes the door against the chill. “Bad night?” I ask as she drops her purse and rubs her face. She watches me pull my shirt over my head and step into my jeans. “Not bad. But obviously not as good as yours.” I beam, almost giddy. “Kate agreed to come out with me on Valentine’s Day. Can’t get much better than that, now can it? It’s only a matter of time before I get my girl home.” “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” Sarah leans against the wall, looking tired. “I might
decide to use my powers for evil.” She chuckles and raises her eyebrows to let me know she’s joking. “Please. Just make sure she comes. I love her, Sarah. These last few days, coming home to an empty apartment … it’s been hell.” “I’ll do what I can. Now get out of here so I can finish my walk of shame without so much … you know … shame.”
Chapter Six
Kate
MATT MIGHT AS well be an elephant in a drum factory for all the noise he’s making. I keep my eyes closed
and my breathing even as he slides out of bed and goes about gathering his clothes. I can’t fathom how to deal with what happened last night. The minute he shuts the bedroom door, I sit up and put my head in my hands. I love that man so much. So. Much. I can’t be near him without feeling whole and real. I can’t think about anything other than how good he is to me. How perfect we are together. How he’s everything I ever wanted wrapped up in one damn fine package. How am I supposed to think about ending things between us when I want him more than anything? It’s just such a mess and I can’t see up from down, right from wrong, black from white. It’s all a jumble of self-doubt and questions. And if it was bad before, after last night, it’s worse. So much worse. My bedroom door rattles as the front door opens. Regret and relief hold hands and trample around inside my head. At least he’s leaving and I can think again. Muffled voices meander down the hallway. Is that Sarah? I creep over to the door and put my ear to it but still can’t make out what they’re saying. Which is fine. Right? I don’t need to eavesdrop on their conversation. Except I totally do. I slowly turn the doorknob and crack the door, pressing my ear towards the opening. I hear Matt tell Sarah he thinks I’m coming home after Valentine’s Day. I hear Sarah promise to do what she can. And then I hear the front door close once and for all. Nausea boils in my stomach and the headache intensifies. All while my heart begs me to just go home to Matt and put away my girlish dreams of a proposal. This is the twenty-first century. I can live out my life with the man I love without a ring on my finger, right? Sarah comes around the corner and finds me fighting tears. “That’s not the face I expected to see after a night of some damn fine lovin'.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” “I can’t do this. I can’t be with him and not be with him. The moment he’s near me, I forget everything except how much I love him.” “And that’s a bad thing because…?” Sarah flares her hands, looking way less judgmental than she
sounds. “Because I’m afraid I’ll just go back to him and spend the rest of my life wondering why he won’t commit to me. It’s like he needs an escape clause or something. Like not marrying me will make it easier for him to leave at a moment’s notice.” “Kate…” I hold up my hands. “I’ll never be able to relax. I’ll always wonder what it is in me that has him needing an escape route.” I swallow and close my eyes. “I need a clean break now or I’ll shatter over the rest of however many years we have left together.” “Don’t make a hasty decision on this. Matt’s a good guy.” “The only kind of decision that will get me through this is a hasty one. I can’t go meet him on Valentine’s Day. I just can’t. I love him so much and whatever he’s got planned for me will only make me love him more. I can’t give him all of me when he’s holding back.” “I get it, sweets. I do. But this is big. At least think about it over a cup of coffee.” Sarah’s right. This is big. But even after my third cup of coffee, I still feel the same. I have to walk away. Now. While I still can.
Sarah
I SPEND MOST of the day trying to talk Kate into going out with her boyfriend so he can propose. The more I
push, the more she digs her heels in. By the time dinner rolls around, she’s adamant about breaking it off with Matt altogether. I make up some lame excuse about needing mass quantities of ice cream and call him as soon as I’m in the car. “Dude. She’s not coming.” I flick on the turn signal and head towards the grocery store. “You need to get over here and solve this.” “What?” There’s a lot of noise on Matt’s end of the line. “We just got a call. I’m heading out on a job. I can’t leave.” “Shit. Then you need to let me tell her what’s going on.” “But then all of this, all the anxiety she’s been going through, it’ll be for nothing.” “I’m telling you,” I say, desperate to make him understand how dire the situation is. “If she doesn’t find out soon, that’s all you’ll have. Nothing. She’s talking about going to get the rest of her stuff out of the house tonight.”
More commotion drowns out the beginning of Matt’s sentence. “Don’t let her do anything today. I’ll get there as soon as I can. I gotta go. Don’t let her leave me, Sarah.”
Chapter Seven
Kate
I’VE SPENT THE entire day fighting tears and the entire evening giving into them. Sarah left an hour ago. By
the time she gets back, I’ll be too upset to enjoy the ice cream I thought I wanted when she left. What I should have asked for was some vodka. Drink away the pain until I can sleep through tomorrow. Maybe I’ll text her and see if she’s still at the store. A knock at the door answers my question. Apparently, she’s home and bought so much ice cream she can’t get her key in the lock. I rub my hands on my fleece PJ pants before standing. I know she’s trying to help, but ice cream won’t sit well in my poor, upset stomach. “How much Ben & Jerry’s could you possibly have?” I ask as I pull open the door. It’s not Sarah. Matt stands on the doorstep, hands shoved in his coat pocket. Snowflakes flutter around him, catching in his hair. My knees go weak. My throat constricts. My hands ball into fists. My eyes fill with tears. A million physical reactions that leave me frozen and wordless. Desperate to both close the door on him forever and throw myself into his arms and beg him to take me home. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I ask, my mouth working without my permission. Matt blinks away an errant snowflake. “Yep.” “What happened?” “I had something more important to do.” Matt loves his job. Grew up dreaming of saving people from burning buildings. I’ve never seen him so much as call in sick, let alone leave in the middle of a shift. “Can I come in?” he asks. “It’s cold out here.” As if to prove a point, a blast of wind sends a swirl of snowflakes into my face. I want to say no but I’m helpless against him. I nod, open the door all the way, and step aside. We stand in the entryway. His eyes roaming my tear-stained face. I should ask him to have a seat, but I’ll never be able to ask him to leave again if I do. “Sarah said you aren’t going out with me tomorrow.” He says it like a question, like he hopes she was mistaken. I suck in my lips and look at the floor. “I can’t.”
“Kate—” I hold up my hand to stop whatever he has to say. “Matt. I love you. So much. And I’m going to be brutally honest. I gave you everything. All the parts of me that make me good or bad or whatever it is I am. You have them. I’ve not held one tiny piece of me back. But when you told me you didn’t want to get married, I realized you’re actually the one holding back.” “Kate—” “No. Let me say this. I want to marry you. I want to have your last name and raise your children. I don’t want anything between us, not even something as silly as a name. I want to grow old together, stockpiling memories and laughing our way through the hard stuff. And I thought you wanted that, too.” I close my eyes and cover my face with my hands. “Kate. Look at me.” Matt sounds like he’s smiling and it’s an icepick to my heart. He grasps my wrists and tries to uncover my face. I struggle. “Please. Just go.” “Fine,” he says, letting me go. “But you need to hear me out first.” I peek out from behind my hands and raise my eyebrows. “I had this all planned out. It was supposed to be perfect. A surprise. But it got away from me and now it’s a disaster. I wanted you to remember this for the rest of our lives.” He chuckles, a wry sound. “I guess you probably will anyway, after all this.” “What are you talking about?” I slide my hands down so they’re just covering my lips. Part of me already knows. The other part is afraid I’ve got it all wrong. Matt pulls one hand out of his coat pocket. Wrapped in his fist is a little black box. “You told me once that you wanted a surprise proposal on Valentine’s Day. That you wanted to get dressed up and go out. Have someone get down on his knee in front of everyone. I tried, Kate.” I drag my eyes from the box up to his face. He looks miserable. “You say you want nothing between us? Believe me, babe. Neither do I. I want to give you my name and put my baby in your belly. I want a herd of little me’s and you’s running around and getting into trouble so you can tell me it’s all my fault. My genes making them as ornery as I am. I want all of you with all of me.” Tears roll down my cheeks. “Are you sure?” “Baby, I’ve been saving up for this ring for the last year and a half. I couldn’t be more sure if I tried.” He opens the box and I choke on a sob, smiling and crying and so confused I don’t know what to do with myself. “Marry me,” he says, plucking the ring from the box and holding it out for me. I nod, holding out my hand. “I thought you’d never ask,” I say, sniffing while he laughs. Matt slides the ring on my finger and wipes away my tears. “I’m sorry it’s not perfect.” “Oh, Matt. Believe me. It couldn’t be more perfect.”
Epilogue
Kate
MATT SMIRKS AT me from our bed. “Why don’t we just skip dinner and stay right here.”
“No way. After what you put me through these last few days? The least you could do is buy me dinner.” I give him a little shrug of my shoulder, a devilish grin, and then turn my back to him, giving him a view of my naked ass while I dig through my closet for the perfect dress. “The red one,” he says. “You look amazing in the red one.” We shower together, taking turns soaping each other up only to get lost in long kisses. He shaves while I dry my hair. When our eyes meet through the mirror, we smile. His ring glints on my finger. An unusual cut, not too big or too small, but so beautiful it distracts me from time to time. It’s a long ride to the restaurant. Brookside isn’t big enough to warrant anything larger than a Frisch’s. We fill the time talking about all the things that fill our day and the hour-long drive passes in what feels like minutes. “Briello?” I widen my eyes and drop my jaw as he parks in front of one of the trendiest restaurants in Indiana. “How in the world did you get reservations?” Matt’s eyes gleam in the low light. “I told you. I’ve been working on this for a long time.” I put my hand on his, the diamond glinting, catching my attention. “I can’t believe I ever doubted you.” “You and me both.” He winks and pulls me towards him, pausing to undo his seatbelt before he kisses me. “I’ll love you for the rest of forever.” “Good. Because I’m still mad you made me panic for three days just because you were too stubborn to break your plans.” He pulls away and puts his hand on the door. “But come on now, would you really have it any other way?” he asks as he slides out of the truck. We meet on the sidewalk and I take his hand. “Not really.” I grin up at him. “I mean, I could have skipped all the drama and soul-searching, but I’m totally fine with how it ended up.” He holds the door for me and rests his hand on the small of my back as I pass. The restaurant interior is everything I wanted it to be. Fresh and funky. Clean lines. Black floors and white lights with little splashes of color along the way. Matt gives the hostess our name and takes my coat, gesturing for me to lead as we’re lead to our table. Conversation buzzes around us, quiet music filtering through the sounds of
people eating, drinking, and laughing. All the tables except one are covered in white tablecloths with black napkins, a single candle flickering in a ceramic centerpiece. The other, the one in the middle of the room, the one we’re being led to, has a purple table cloth. Tealights cover a stair-stepped centerpiece and flicker warmly. Matt pulls out my chair before sitting across from me. “Purple,” he says. “Like February’s birthstone. The month I propose.” People stare and whisper, wondering who we are and why our table is so special. “How’d you talk them into doing this?” I ask, leaning forward. “It was easy, actually. Just had to buy all the supplies and drop them off last week.” “It’s perfect, Matt. It really is.” Familiar dishes with exotic twists fill the menu and they all sound so good it takes me forever to decide what to order. I finally settle on an Asian chicken while Matt goes straight for the steak. “So good,” I say, moaning as I close my eyes. “We could come here once a week and everything would be right with the world.” A hush falls around us and someone gasps. I open my eyes to find Matt down on one knee beside me. I cover my mouth with my hands. Considering I’m already wearing the ring, I expected him to skip this part. “Kate,” he says, that damn crooked smile lighting up his face. “I love you enough to make things perfect even when it makes you want to leave me.” He shrugs and bites his lip while I chuckle. “Marry me?” I nod and grin and people around us applaud. He takes my hand, pulls me to my feet, and kisses me a little longer than he should in a public place. When he’s done, he pulls away, gives me a wink, and then leans in to whisper in my ear. “How about we skip dessert and head home to make a little of our own?” I smile up at him through my lashes. “I thought you’d never ask.”
THE END
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Right For Love
by Aria Cole
Love is only a swipe away... Pre-med student Carly Samuelson doesn't have time for things like swoony Valentine's dates, so when her best friend downloads a dating app to get Carly lucky, her expectations are low. But when her friend swipes right on tall, dark, and dashing Thorn Cartwright, Carly walks into something she never expected —Thorn's got a proposition—one night, one dress, him and her. But can one swipe right really lead to love?
Chapter One
Carly
“GIRL.” MY BEST friend leveled me with serious eyes, one hand holding a lock of blonde hair that was
wrapped around a searing hot curling wand above her head. “You need to get some action before those bits turn to dust.” I burst out in a laugh. “My vagina will just burn up and float away, huh?” “What do they say…” She tipped her head to the side. “If you don’t use it, you lose it?” I shook my head, watching as she unrolled the curl and let it bounce into a perfect ringlet as she got ready for her Valentine’s Day date tonight. Lord knows with whom this time. Saying Selma was a free agent was putting it lightly. “I’m too busy for the kind of trouble you get up to at all hours of the night,” I finally answered. “You know, someday all of that natural beauty—” She wagged a finger at my face. “—is going to crack. That young virginal thing you got going on won’t last forever. Why you wasting all your youth with your head in a textbook? You have to live, Carly!” I crossed my arms, thinking it was moments like these that made me both love and despise Selma for her natural, dark-eyed beauty and that effortless attitude that she lived her life with. “I’m not like you.” I finally shook my head. “I don’t do well with strangers, or in groups, or in public places on holidays…really, anywhere with people. I just don’t do well with people.” “Bullshit.” Selma dropped another curl, twisting it softly then setting the wand on the counter. “Anyone can date now, no more awkward first dates or getting-to-know-you conversations. I downloaded this dating app. You just swipe right if the guy is a hottie, left if he looks like a douche-nozzle. Welcome to dating in the modern world.” “A dating app? You downloaded a dating app?” “You know I like to spice things up in my life.” I huffed, a little incredulous. I thought online dating was for nerds… Well, I guess I was technically a nerd considering all I did was go to class, study, sleep, repeat. While Selma was partying the night away at clubs, kissing strange, sexy men, I was up late in a college sweatshirt and pajama pants, pouring over anatomy books. With just one more year to go in my biology degree, the end was in sight. All the hard work of the last few years would finally pay off with a diploma and a set of skills that could allow me to
get a job at any doctor’s office around the country as a physician’s assistant. The coursework had been brutal—I’d known it would be—but I was too far in to throw it away now, even if my grades were at the top of my class. “I’m not using a dating app. I can’t even think about dating right now.” “It’s not dating, exactly…” Selma pushed me in front of the mirror, picked the wand up, twisting a lock of my hair in her fingers and wrapping it around the barrel of the wand. “It’s more like…hook-ups.” “Hook-ups” I scrunched my nose, catching her eyes in the mirror. “Yeah, you know, burn off some steam. Sex releases anti-stress chemicals to your brain, you know, and people that have an orgasm within thirty minutes before having a test perform up to five points higher. Five points! You need to fuck off some steam, Carly.” “Oh my God.” I covered my face with one hand as she continued to curl random sections of my hair. “I mean it. When’s the last time you got any play at all?” She twirled a soft lock at my face, adding a wave until it lay nicely with the rest. “Uhh…” I paused, pushing back through old dusty cobwebs to the last time I’d even let a man kiss me. “Freshman year maybe?” “Oh my God. You’re practically a born-again virgin. We need to get you that app.” Selma sat the wand down on the counter. “Finished.” I glanced up, shocked she’d curled my entire head of hair and was now separating the ringlets until they were only softly defined and falling over one shoulder. “Your hair looks too good to waste.” Selma swiped my phone and held it up. “Smile, and give me that look in your eye.” “What look?” “That one that says you’re really horny but still a good girl.” I narrowed my eyes. “No, that looks like you might swipe their wallet when they’re finished. Softer. Less murder-y, more seductive.” “Selma!” I squealed, swiping the camera just as the flash went off. “Wait, let me see, that was a good one!” Selma pulled the phone from my hand, swiping to the last picture taken. “Look.” She thrust the picture into my face. “You look fucking hot. Let’s find you a man tonight.” “No, Selma.” My asshole friend spun, my phone in hand, and shuffled out the bathroom door, her fingers tapping a hundred words a second as she went. “Selma!” She stopped dead in her tracks, turned to me in the middle of my studio apartment kitchen, and handed me the phone. “There.” Her smile was big. I wanted to bitch-slap it off her face. “What did you do?”
“Created your account, uploaded that pic. Now you’re ready to swipe your way to a lay, baby.” “Jesus, Selma. Why are we friends?” “Probably because I challenge your very boring and predictable nature.” She twirled a fresh curl at my temple. “And you love me.” I only grunted in reply, my eyes focused on the screen, the first handsome candidate to show up on my screen. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” “Swipe left. He looks like a businessman wannabe.” “Wannabe? What are you, an expert at typing men on this thing?” “Swipe enough.” She shrugged, peering over my shoulder to glance at the next potential date. “Eww!” We both swiped left, clearing the older gentleman with the overgrown mustache off our screen. “He’s not bad.” Selma paused on the third, tilting her head. “If you squint.” I groaned, swiping left. Then left. Then another left. “I’ve learned one thing from this app tonight,” I said. “What’s that?” Selma was swiping left for me, the frown growing deeper with every swipe. “That we’re surrounded by a million really creepy guys. It’s no wonder I haven’t found a date in ages.” Selma nodded, taking in my words. “Maybe it’s time I move. When I visited my cousin in Denver you should have seen the hot guys. Like, h-o-double-t hot.” “Well, I’m deleting it. All that’s on here is mountain men and college guys looking to score more action. Not interested.” “Wait, what about him?” She paused, thumb hovering over the handsome face lit with a one-sided cocky smile. His eyes were a clear shade of ocean blue, hair dark and a little mussed, with a dark smattering of sexy five o’clock shadow across his angled jaw. “Nuh-uh. He’s married.” “What?! No way! What makes you say that?” Selma squinted, as if trying to read the signals through the screen. “Because no man that beautiful is still on the market at his age.” “His age? He’s like thirty-five, tops,” she scoffed. “Exactly. Married, divorced with kids, something.” “Well, okay then, what do you care? This is just a hook-up anyway, remember? Not like you have to worry about him proposing on the first date or anything.” “Selma...” I groaned, ready to swipe left on his gorgeous, smug ass. “Nope.” Selma slid her thumb across my screen, swiping right. “Got him.” She grinned up at me triumphantly. “Oh my God, what are you doing?!” I wiped left, left, up, across. “Where are the settings? Can I undo
that right swipe?” She laughed, walking back down the hall to the bathroom. “Nope. No undoing!” I followed quickly on her heels, stopping right next to her in front of her post at the bathroom mirror. Just then the little app chimed in my hand. An alert popped up that said a match was made. Oh shit. “Oh, you are such an asshole, Selma Martinez.” “You got a match! That means he likes you, too!” She nodded, taking every second of this painfully embarrassing moment in stride. “That wasn’t even a good picture of me! I hate you.” “Or you could say thank you.” She winked. “Now send that boy a message.” “What? No way. I’m not interested. Maybe you should go out with him.” “Nah, I’ll take one for the team. Your vag needs some love, and I think Mr. Sex right there is going to give it to you.” “I’m not going.” “You’re an idiot if you don’t.” I nearly replied that she was an idiot for even downloading the app when another chime popped up. New message alert. “Oh, Jesus.” “Oooh, he’s really into you.” Selma snatched the phone from my hands and opened the message. “Wait! Don’t answer it!” “Too late, it already shows him that I’ve seen it—or you’ve seen it.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “It says, Would love to meet tonight. I’ll just reply…” She started tapping at warp speed. “No! No!” I yanked my phone from her. “Don’t reply.” “Well, you have to. Otherwise that would just be rude.” “Rude. Like I care if I’m rude to a stranger, Selma!” I couldn’t contain the shrieky frustration lacing my voice. “Well, I just wasn’t raised that way, stranger or not.” I shook my head, finding myself again stupefied by all things Selma. “You’re unbelievable.” She caught my eye in the mirror, refusing to say a word. I narrowed my eyes, taking in the stubborn set of her jaw, the way her eyes flared with simmering irritation. “Fine. I’ll answer him. I’ll tell him he was a mistake swipe or something.” “What? You can’t say that.” “Why not?” There were too many rules for online dating, exactly the reason it was better I’d avoided it. “Way to kick a guy when he’s down. No, I would not like to see you tonight, actually I think you’re a dog and wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole. Have a nice night!”
“Well, I wouldn’t be that harsh.” Selma shook her head, finishing one last curl in her hair before placing the wand on the counter and unplugging it. She spun, pushing fingers through her hair until the curls bounced and bobbed with enviable volume. “Tell him the truth—you’re a busy college student with a very large stick up your ass.” “And with a nosy friend that doesn’t know how to keep her hands off other people’s property,” I chimed in. “Sounds about right. Listen, chica…” Selma paused, catching her reflection in the mirror and adjusting her boobs in the cups of her bra to get more oomph. Her word. Not mine. “I’ve got to meet Pratt outside in twenty minutes. I hope you give yourself a break tonight. You deserve it. Give that vag a little workout and you’ll feel better in the morning.” She spritzed some of my perfume in a cloud around her. “I’ll call you later when I get home…or in the morning.” She paused. “It probably won’t be until the morning.” She winked, then placed a kiss on my cheek. “Let loose tonight, Carly. God knows you need it.” She turned, blowing me one last kiss before sauntering out of my apartment in her chunky, laced boots and skirt. I glanced back down at my phone, then to the puppy pajamas that fell to the tops of my bare feet. I sighed. I did need some fun. I was ready for a life outside of textbooks and professors and exams and essays. I hovered over the keyboard, not knowing what in the hell to say before I typed quickly. Sure. Where and when? Before I could think twice, I hit send. Maybe Selma was right, if I didn’t use it, I would lose it. Perhaps not so much my vag but my sexuality, my sense of self, my free spirit. I grinned, shutting down the app and tossing it on the bed, not caring if the handsome guy with the cocky smile ever replied or not. I was having fun making the butterflies in my stomach jump all on my own.
Chapter Two
Thorn
SHE MESSAGED BACK.
Holy shit, she messaged back. What the hell do I write now? I groaned, running a hand through my hair, still damp from a workout. I’d pounded away on the treadmill my anxiety about showing up to another doctor’s Valentine’s Day Ball alone. The damn thing was tomorrow night, and it never failed—the amount of women that would throw themselves at me, advances getting thicker, petting getting heavier as the night wore on and the drinks flowed from the open bar. I’d wanted to fucking skip this one altogether, but I knew it was a great idea if I wanted to be chief of ER someday. I had to network as best I could with the chief of staff, and outside of the sporadic meetings —and these irritating staff parties—I rarely had that chance. So skipping it wasn’t really on my list of things to do. This wouldn’t be a normal online date—not that dating apps ever were normal—but when one of the guys at work had gone on and on about going to a bachelor party in LA a few weekends ago and hooking up with a few different girls around town, I’d begun to think it was worth some looking at. Not for the hooking up. Not for the dating at all, but for this. For a proposition. I needed a date for this Valentine’s Day Ball. What would she get in return? Free drinks and food...a fancy dress as a gift from me? Maybe that part of the proposition was shaky, but I needed someone normal to snicker with at all of the overdressed, overpaid assholes I was forced to socialize with at those things. I’d never done anything like this before. I was used to meeting women the old-fashioned way, at a bar or work. But the deeper I’d gotten into my position at the hospital here, the less and less time I had for any social interaction at all. Finding a woman to put up with my crazy schedule was enough of a challenge as it was. Even the women at the few conferences I attended throughout the year were snobby, intellectual, elitist gold-diggers. Okay, maybe not all of them. But that’s the vibe they put off to me anyway. I wasn’t the
typical doctor type. I was more comfortable in a pair of worn jeans than I was in chinos on the golf course. I couldn’t hobnob with these people like was expected, so finding someone to tag along and wallow in the torture with me sounded like as good a plan as any. Where could we meet? I didn’t want to bring her to my place, did I? What if this all blew up in my face and I had a stalker on my hands? I couldn’t risk her knowing where to find me. Coffee shop on 7th in an hour? I hit send before I could second-guess myself. To hell with playing by the rules. I’d done that my whole life, and the only thing it’d gotten me was a great job and a big house. Sometimes I wanted someone to share it with, every now and then the feeling of loneliness set in, but it was always extremely short lived. This girl, however, she piqued my interest. An alert chimed, and I glanced at my phone. Her reply simply read. OK. I swiped a hand over my face, feeling a little astounded I’d done this at all, before heading into the bathroom to jump in the shower and clean up. I had a date…sort of…in an hour. I flipped on the water, waiting as warmth and steam filled the bathroom. What in the hell had I just gotten myself into? Forty-five minutes later I was waiting patiently at the quiet coffee shop around the corner from the hospital, the one I visited every day for my quad-shot dark-roast coffee. Dumbass idea number one, because if she was a stalker, she could find me right here at half past six every morning. I looked up just as the front door swung open and the same girl who’d popped up on my phone earlier entered the coffeehouse. And though it seemed impossible she was even more beautiful than in her picture. The way her eyes rounded wide, luscious locks of waves curling around one shoulder, the soft slope of her cheekbones. Everything about her was complete perfection. This girl was it. Complete fucking perfection. I would have been content to sit here and stare from across the room, but then I thought that would make me the stalker, so instead I shot to my feet and crossed to her. “Lookin’ for someone?” I hovered over her shoulder. She whirled around, eyes wide as they burned up and down my body then landed on my face. “No. Yes. Um…”
“I’ve got a feelin’ I’m him.” Her eyes popped open, lips parting softly before her gaze averted and she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She was embarrassed. She was so fucking sweet. Christ, I wanted to ruin her already. “As you can guess, I’m Thorn.” I placed a hand at the dip of her back. “Nice to meet you, Carly. Have a seat.” “Ah, well…okay,” she stammered, allowing me to guide her to the table I’d been at. Jesus, I loved my hands on her. And what the hell was that feeling deep in my gut every time I looked at her? Like a punch to my stomach. Like someone lighting a match to my balls. “Nice to meet you too, Thorn.” I pulled the chair out for her, and she sat. I sat across from her, the table for two suddenly feeling impossibly smaller than it had just a minute ago. She was so close, her hand draped across the edge, little dainty fingertips and creamy skin… “I feel like I should tell you,” she started, eyes holding mine for a beat, “I’ve never done this before.” She shifted in her seat. “This isn’t really normal for me.” “So why did you do it, then?” She opened her mouth, pausing as if at a loss for words. “Why does anyone do it?” “There are a lot of reasons, I guess.” “Well, I did it for the most obvious one.” “Sex?” I prodded. She didn’t answer; only a blush crept up her chest and neck. A blush I wanted to follow with my tongue. My original intention hadn’t been sex at all—it’d only been for a friendly date to that stupid doctors’ ball, but now here I was, sitting across from the most stunning woman I’d ever seen, and she was telling me she was here for sex? Holy fucking shit. “Why are you here?” She found her voice, her chin up. So she had a strong stubborn streak, even more interesting. My cock throbbed in my pants, the slow ache in my balls turning into a flaming fucking inferno. How long had it been since I’d gotten laid? I couldn’t even recall. Too fucking long. Way too fucking long. I shifted in my seat, instantly regretting this line of conversation if the pressure building behind my zipper had anything to say about it. “I’m here for a pretty ridiculous reason, actually.” I paused, leaning a little closer until my hand was hovering just at her fingertips. “I need a date.” “Well, don’t we all,” she scoffed as her eyes scanned the room. “Yeah, but I need a legit date. Tomorrow. To a Valentine’s Day Ball. All expenses paid for by me of
course, plus there’s free food, and an open bar. All you’ve got to do is be charming with a bunch of boring doctors for a few hours. Pretend like we’re together.” “Wait.” Her eyes shot up, hands retreating to her lap. “You don’t want to have sex with me?” I glanced around, praying no one had heard her frank question. “Maybe we should chat somewhere else about this.” “No, I’m not going anywhere with you until I know more. I thought people used this app for sex…I thought…well…” She frowned, twisting at a curl nervously. “I thought you wanted me.” My eyes bulged in my head. If only she knew the filthy thoughts filtering through my brain right now. I did want her, I wanted her so fucking bad it pained me, literally, but I wanted the date, too. I wanted both. “Carly.” I reached across the table and grazed my fingertips across her knuckles. “I want all of you.” “So…” she breathed, eyes riveted on mine. “What now?” Jesus, I’d give anything to see those pretty eyes simpering up at me from her knees on the floor. I adjusted under the table, painfully aware of the erection biting against my zipper and the gorgeous girl sitting across the table causing it. “Now, we get you a dress.” “A dress?” Her eyebrows nearly shot into her hairline. “This is semi-formal. I’d take you dressed in a garbage bag, but they might stop us at the door.” A soft blush crept up her cheeks and made my cock pound. How was someone so sweet, so very clearly naive about relationships, sitting across from me at this moment? I’d swiped left so many goddamn times on that app I’d felt the ache in my thumb for an hour. But then she’d popped up and, like lightning charging through my veins, I’d known she was the one. “I don’t think there’s anything open right now.” A frown pulled at her lips. “I know a place that’s open ‘til nine.” I snagged her hand in mine, pulling her to her feet from the chair. “Ready to do some shopping?” Her smile twitched up at the corners, and I realized I still held her hand. It felt so natural I’d forgettin to let it go. Well, I wasn’t about to break our connection now. “Let’s go find a dress, I guess.” “I can just hear the enthusiasm in your voice.” I said, dryly. “I’m just not used to taking gifts from men.” She said, as I pushed open the door of the coffee shop. “Well, get used to it, Carly. I like to give shit to my friends sometimes.” I steered us down the street. “Friends?” Her steps faltered. I turned, shaking my head when I saw her, one hand to her chest. “We’re friends, now? This is all moving so fast.” My laugh echoed on the cool breeze. “I make friends fast.” “What if I’m not looking for a friend?” She stepped closer. My heart throttled up into my throat, my hands itching to fist into her lush hair and pull her lips against mine. I wanted them bruised and tender, I wanted the memory of me all over her. “Just what is it you are looking for, Carly?” I snaked a palm behind her neck, closing the distance
between us. She shuddered when I trailed my nose along the shell of her ear, hovering at her earlobe as her breathing grew labored. My other hand circled her curvy waist, dragging her another step closer until she was plastered against all the hard angles of my body. “What do you need?” Her thighs shifted, the sweet scent of her arousal invading my senses, driving me fucking mad with need for her. I’d take her right here on the street if I thought she’d let me. And I had a feeling she would...in a dark alleyway, up against a brick wall… But that wasn't right. This girl deserved so much better than that. And I wanted to give her everything she deserved. “I…” she sucked in a shallow breath. “I think I need a dress.” I grinned, enjoying the way her body softened against mine. “That’s just the beginning.” I locked our hands again as we turned and continued down the street. “Bloomingdale's is just around the corner. Think we can find something in there?” “Bloomingdale's?!” Carly stumbled to a stop again, but this time I wouldn’t let her, forcing her along with me. “We’ve only got ‘til nine, sweetheart. Drag your feet like that again and I’ll carry you.” Her mouth rounded in a perfect little “O”. “Anyone ever tell you you can be a little bossy?” I laughed, slipping the pad of my thumb across the soft angle of her cheekbone. So close. Close enough to kiss, just one taste…. “You just wait.”
Chapter Three
Thorn
I DRAPED ONE protective arm over the most gorgeous girl I’d ever laid eyes on. By my side, she shone in a
strappy, black sequined dress that draped over her curves, cutting really fucking low at the back and skimming the generous curve of her hips and that crazy-delectable heart-shaped ass. I’d protested repeatedly last night when she’d taken it into the dressing room at Bloomingdales. Damn if I wanted another man’s eyes eating up her body the way mine did, and that dress left little to the imagination. Watching Carly model that dress had made me so fucking hard in the changing room I’d nearly spit bullets. I had to grit my teeth to stifle the swell in my jeans. She’d hidden her gorgeous body behind layers of clothing, but the way she’d stepped out of that room and peered up at me had made me want to do things. Say things. Christ, it made me think things I never had before. I’d met plenty of women in my thirty-two years, but never had one made me think about anything long term. Anything real. Carly made me think real. She turned to me then, the sweet curve of her lips turning up in a soft grin, the soft glow of lights washed us in shadow. “You look very handsome.” She adjusted the bow tie at my throat. I shuddered when her fingers grazed my skin. My dick jumped, my fingers tightening at the curve of her bare shoulders. “You’re the beautiful one here. I can’t think about anyone else in this room when you’re next to me.” Her eyebrows shot up, her fingers stilling at my neck. “Wow.” I slid a thumb up the curve of her jaw, enjoying the slow shudder that pulsed through her. “Close your mouth, little one.” I drifted closer, my teeth grazing her earlobe. “Or I’ll be tempted to fill it with something.” Her sweet little lips pressed closed, her eyes darkening as her pupils dilated with desire. I knew all the signs—I was a doctor, after all. A rapid pulse, shifting thighs, and the fact that she couldn’t seem to stop herself from touching me. Her breast grazed my chest.
“That look tells me you want it.” I cupped my palm at her neck, thankful for the low lighting that shrouded us. “The way your heart is racing tells me you need it.” I rested a palm over her rapidly firing heart, the curve of her breast lush and creamy under the pads of my fingertips. “Can’t we just go back to your place?” she begged adorably. I laughed, pulling her a little tighter against me, flexing my hips to make sure she felt how fucking badly I wanted inside of her. “I love your enthusiasm, little one, but we’ve got to be on our best behavior, at least for a few hours.” “I’m sick of playing the good girl. I thought this was my one night off.” She pouted. “Stop acting like a child or I’ll have to take you to a dark corner and put you over my knee.” Her eyebrow arched then, something like a grin twitching her lips. “Christ, Carly. You’ve gotta stop giving me that look.” I shifted my aching cock behind my suit pants. These fucking things were always too restrictive for me. I preferred the freedom of a pair of scrubs. “You’re not going to last all night.” She smirked, crossing her arms and inadvertently causing her gorgeous tits to push together. I wanted my hands on her, my tongue lapping at all the delicate spots that would make her cum, and then cum again. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Carly. What the hell did I get myself into when I swiped right?” She burst out laughing, giving my dick a quick squeeze before she snaked her fingers through mine and pulled me away from the dark wall we’d been hovering near. “I need a drink, doctor.” She was such a fucking surprise. How I ever landed this smart, sassy, gorgeous date who made me want to fuck her straight into the wall I’ll never know. Carly was a walking, talking angel I’d never seen coming. I snuggled Carly a little closer an hour later, my hands itching to feel the skin hidden beneath that dress. Instead I was focused on the chief of staff, rambling on in our small group at the bar. A few doctors laughed, indulging his over-inflated ego, begging to buy his drinks, and I was stuck in the middle of it all. I hated these fucking staff events. I hated everything political about this industry. I was a simple guy. I just loved saving lives. I had a natural interest in biology from a young age, and by the time I was in high school, it was the only thing I’d ever wanted to do. I didn’t want to talk shop with these self-important fuckers after hours. Eighty hours a week in the emergency room, that’s what I lived for. But at least tonight I had Carly by my side.
There was something between us, an understanding that neither one of us took this seriously. I was shocked as hell to find out she was pre-med, even holding her own when a neonatal specialist had been talking about lung capacity in preemies. Carly was smart as fuck. And that only made her sexier than hell to me. We hadn’t been able to keep our hands off each other all night, and as the drinks continued to flow, we’d only grown closer. We’d laughed more at private jokes, she’d opened up about how tough her schedule was, and I’d actually been able to chime in and share a few things that helped me get through med school. “I’m ready to get you out of this dress.” I fingered the spaghetti strap, that little bit of fabric holding in the heavy weight of her gorgeous tits. “This dress was made for you, but it needs to come off.” “I’ll never have a chance to wear it again,” she quipped. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” I turned, edging her out of view of anyone else, and pulled the thin strap aside softly, caressing the creamy flesh of her shoulder with my lips. A slow shudder rolled through her body, savoring the way her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted as she sucked in shallow breaths. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen when you’re turned on.” Her elegant throat moved as she swallowed before her eyes fluttered open and nailed mine. She was about to respond when we were interrupted. “Thorn! Let me refresh your drink!” A doctor from the third floor, one whose name I still hadn’t quite caught, slapped me on the shoulder. I turned, hardly restraining the irritation. “I’m good, thanks.” “Sure? Well, I wanted to talk to you about rotating into ER—” “Sorry, this isn’t something I really want to talk about tonight. My lovely date and I—” “Thorn, it’s okay.” Carly placed a hand at my chest. “I’m just going to slip off to the ladies’ room.” She pecked me on the cheek and rested her hand on my chest for an extra-long beat before she pulled away. “She’s a gorgeous one. Where’d you find her?” I shook my head, eyes still riveted on Carly as she walked away. “She just fell into my lap.”
Chapter Four
Carly
AFTER REFRESHING MY lip gloss in the ladies room, I ducked out onto the balcony to take in the view.
Towering over some of the highest buildings in the city, dark shadows and cool wind made the entire landscape look like a haunted Gotham. Surrounded by red brick buildings, the main streets twinkled with lights, the entire sight completely magical. I needed a minute to take it all in. How was it possible that I’d simply swiped right and found a man like this? A doctor, of all things, who had bought me a sparkly dress, taken me to a ball…had I fallen into a fairy tale? “Thorn dating interns now?” A scratchy voice caused a shiver to run down my spine. The faint smell of a cigar curled around my nostrils. “I’m not an intern.” I turned to find the chief of staff of the hospital, the one Thorn and I had just been speaking to, standing entirely too close for comfort behind me. “Would you like to be?” He leaned in, one thick eyebrow rising suggestively. “Maybe…someday.” I backed away a few steps. “I’m exactly the man who can make that happen. All applications go through me.” A heavy hand rested at the curve of my lower back, and I nearly shrieked. My heartbeat kicked into a high gear, every fight or flight nerve in my body raging at me to sock him straight in the balls and run. But Thorn… I couldn’t ruin whatever standing he had with his boss. I knew the politics of these hospitals, and who you knew mattered, who you didn’t piss off mattered even more. “Carly, was it? You’ve got the most gorgeous set of ti—” “What the fuck were you saying?” The warm timbre of Thorn’s voice washed over me. Oh thank God. “I was just telling the little lady here—” “She’s not a little lady. She’s a woman, and you need to treat her that way.” I turned just in time to see Thorn’s swing land squarely in the chief of staff’s barrel of a chest, sending him stumbling backward. His cigar fell to the ground, and his face blazed red with embarrassment or rage. I couldn’t tell. I didn’t care. “If you even fucking look at her again,I’ll report you to the board.Got it, Chief?” His face burned tomato red before he turned, stumbled, and burst through the balcony doors. We were
alone again. “You okay?” Thorn’s palms wound around my waist, pulling me into his protective body. “Better now,” I mumbled into his chest. “Christ, Carly. What happened?” “I think this dress happened.” I quipped, pushing my hands beneath the fabric of his jacket, connecting with the warmth of his back. I needed his comfort. The safety only his strong and dominant presence could offer. “Don’t blame it on the dress. He’s an asshole. I’m talking to human resources tomorrow. I’ll make sure he never talks to any woman that way again.” The hard press of his hands at my back sent sparks rocketing through my veins. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.” “I’ll always be there to rescue you, little one.” He kissed me on the top of the head. His hands cupped my cheeks as he trailed kisses down my hairline. “I can’t promise I’ll be this gentle later. You do crazy things to my sanity.” My stomach twisted. My brain short-circuited with bolts of arousal. “What about friends?” “Fuck friends.” His hands were suddenly everywhere. Trailing up my torso, swirling at the hollow of my back, gripping and kneading at the flesh of my ass cheeks through the dress. “I’m sick of this dress coming between us.” I smiled, one finger catching in the strap of my dress and teasing it off a shoulder. He quirked an eyebrow, advancing on me as I continued to back up. I loved seeing him watch me as he advanced on me like a predator. “Come here, Carly.” He hooked my wrist and slammed me against his chest. “Doctor’s orders.” The next thing I knew his hands were everywhere, our bodies crashing against a wall, before Thorn’s hand was feeling around for the doorknob behind my back. He pushed us through a doorway where an empty stairwell stretched into darkness. “Oh my God,” I breathed, words jagged as I crawled up his body, my lips attached to his, my hands in his hair. “You’ve been teasing me in this dress all night. Everything in you draws me in and sets my blood on fire.” he husked. “I’ve had a fucking raging hard-on for you since the second we met. The curve of these pretty lips.” He ran a thumb across the swollen flesh. “The way your eyes dart away and your cheeks turn red when you’re embarrassed. You intoxicate me, little one.” His hands slid up my thighs, shoving the fabric of my dress up with it. Fingertips made contact with bare, soaked flesh, and I felt him shudder. “Where the fuck are your panties, Carly?” My blood thickened to hot lava with every word.
I loved him possessive. “I left them at home.” “I should bend you over my knee for that.” His hands gripped at the flesh of my bare ass cheeks, pulling me flush against every raw, hard inch of him. “I was hoping I’d be rewarded.” I dropped to my knees, not waiting for his response before undoing the buckle on his belt and pulling down the zipper of his pants. His cock sprang out—hard, thick steel dripping with one delicious bead of pre-cum. “No underwear, doctor?” A cocky grin spread my cheeks. “Hush, you need rewarding, little one.” His hands pushed into my hair, consuming me, enveloping me, pulling me down onto his gorgeous dick. I slid down his girth, hollowing my cheeks and fisting him at the root before sliding back up to the soft tip. I tongued the rim, flicking across the heavy vein that ran down its length, before sucking down his shaft and back up again. His fingers twitched, his grunts heavy, pummeling straight to my core as my thighs soaked with arousal. Turning him on like this fueled my own passion, drove me insane with need, made me want to watch him cum and then cum again under my hands. “Carly, fucking Christ, your lips are magical.” He pulled me up his body, lips attaching to mine in an all-consuming kiss. Our tongues twisted, our mouths fucking as we took and gave and forgot where he and I began and ended. “I need to be inside you.” “God, yes, Thorn,” I breathed, clutching at his shoulders. “But I have to tell you first, I don’t have a condom. I didn’t think this would happen here…but I’m clean, Carly. I’ve got the test results at home—you can see them in the morning if you want.” “Results? Home? In the morning?” I hung suspended in his arms, legs hitched around his waist, my cunt throbbing between my thighs, thinking about him inside me. “I want to fuck you, Carly. Badly. Right now.” He caught my lip with his teeth as he teased. “If you don’t want to fuck without a condom, I swear we’ll leave right now and run to the pharmacy and grab a box, but if you’re good—” “I’m good.” I kissed him to shut his mouth. “I’m good. I’m fantastic. I’m clean. I’m yours. Fuck me, Thorn.” A low growl emanating from somewhere deep in his chest was my only response. The rest was all hands and tongue. And then his dick. Thorn’s gorgeous, talented, in-fucking-credible dick.
Chapter Five
Thorn
I SLID INTO her. Slow and sweet, savoring the sensations of her body joined with mine. I sure as hell didn’t
deserve her. Not a man on this earth did. Our schedules would be all fucked up, but we would understand each other. Our hearts spoke to each other. I could feel it. I was pretty sure she could, too. “Jesus, Thorn, God, you feel amazing.” Yeah, she was definitely feeling that. I attached my lips to her throat, sucking long and slow as I thrust, my hands gripping at the round, gorgeous globes of her ass as I fucked her in the stairwell. “You’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me,” I ground out through my teeth, her moans speeding up as my thumb brushed the bud of her ass. “I want inside every piece of you. This body’s mine.” “Yes, Thorn. Oh God, yes,” she whispered against my ear like a prayer. Her words of completion drove my desire on, and my thrusts sped, my hips slamming against hers and hitting an angle deeper inside her. “God, little one…” My thighs shook as release charged through me. I slid out of her body, jerking my dick until I was cumming in hot jets across the creamy skin of her bare thighs. “Fuck.” Her lazy, love-drunk eyes reached mine, her smile curving. “I’m not done with you yet,” I muttered, sliding my fingers through the mess I’d made across her pussy, then slipped my fingers between her lips, swirling my cum across her clit. Her thighs tensed, the little nub growing harder, more sensitive with every pass before I used the other hand to push down the neckline of her dress and placed my lips on her pretty little nipple. I sucked hard, nipping and biting, then soothed away the pain with my tongue. “Cum in my hand, little one.” My thumb arched and swirled, and soon she was crashing in a wave of cum all over my hand. “Seeing you so vulnerable, at my mercy, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” “Thorn?” she whispered. Her hands curled around my neck as her body loosened and went lax. “Yeah, baby?” I hummed, kissing her ear tenderly. “Take me home?” “Absolutely.” I replied. I made quick work of stuffing myself back in my pants and straightening her
dress. “I don’t think I can walk,” she finally said. “You don’t have to, little one. From now on, I’ve got you.” I lifted her into my arms and carried her out of the dark stairwell and back onto the balcony. “Never letting you out of my sight.” She hummed dreamily at my shoulder. “Think you can break the lease on your place?” “What?!” That question seemed to wake her up quick. I shrugged, nonchalant. “I want to wake up to you gorgeous and cumming in my hand every morning.” “Thorn…” She shook her head, giggling, clearly not taking me seriously. Well, if there was anything she should learn about me, it’s that I took things like this very fucking seriously. I’d never lived with a woman. “Listen, little one. I just had two perfect nights with you. I’ve never had that with anyone.” I pushed through the glass doors and sauntered straight past the crowd of suited-up doctors, all eyes darting to us then away again. I didn’t give a fuck if they saw. Carly was mine. “We’ve got a life to get to, Carly. I’ve already spent enough time waiting for you.”
Epilogue
Carly
THORN HADN’T BEEN kidding when he’d said he wasn’t waiting any longer.
He’d moved me into his place, all right. Moved me into his everything, but that didn’t mean I didn’t give him a hard time every step of the way. It wasn’t that I was dragging my feet—I was more sure of Thorn and me than ever. When he’d said he’d never felt this way, I’d known the feeling because I hadn’t either. But moving in with someone after knowing them for little more than a day? After meeting them on a dating app? That seemed farfetched, even to Selma when I told her. That was before I said he was a hot doctor. Then she’d jumped up and down and screamed and asked me what in the hell I was waiting for. I totally agreed with her. So after a month I moved into Thorn’s place. And he would have put a ring on my finger then if I’d let him. And he did shower me in gifts, jewelry, and trips, and anything I could want. But all I wanted was him. And some peace and quiet to finish my degree. That was the other hard thing about us—our schedules were nearly impossible. But in some ways, it worked perfectly because I used all the extra free time I had to study. I even took my books to the hospital some days and worked in Thorn’s small office or in the hospital cafeteria. I loved being around medicine. I loved being around Thorn. I loved my life in a way I never had before, and it was all because of him. The day I graduated with my degree, Thorn proposed. I crushed him into my arms and breathed a thousand yeses into his neck before dropping the biggest surprise on him of his life. “You’re going to be a daddy.” His eyes had grown large before he’d broken out into a beautiful grin. “Really, baby?” I’d nodded, swiping at the tears streaming down my cheeks. He shook his head. His hands made their way under my graduation robe as he kissed me senseless. “I can’t believe all I had to do was swipe right to find you.”
“I can’t believe I fell in love with the cockiest doctor on the planet.” “And the sexiest.” He caught my lips in his and nipped lightly. “I think you forgot to say sexiest doctor.” “Definitely the sexiest,” I agreed. His hands worked up my thighs, rubbing at the flesh in slow circles as he melded me to his body. “You know I’ll always take care of you, little one. You and our little ones.” His hand cupped the faint swell of my belly. “I know, Thorn. I knew it the day I met you, and I know it even more now.” “Love you like crazy, little one.” “Love you even crazier, doctor.”
THE END.
More Sexy & Sweet Reads More shamefully sexy and syrupy sweet reads from Aria Cole: Under Construction Under Her Hood White Swan Scarlet Bending Bethany Chasing Charlie Taking Tessa The Long Ball
Pinnacle - A Destined Series Story
by Ashley Suzanne
Dedication For the late and great Debbie. And for her daughter, who got me on the horse again. You’re her guardian angel and she’s mine. Thank you for her. My life’s not all it’s cracked up to be without her in it. For my husband … because Danny still lives on. He’s never gone. He’s always here. Never forget, you’re my reason. I love you. For my children … because dreams come true … if you want them badly enough. You’re my everything. And to Pogo … thank you for Canasta.
Chapter One
Mira
“PLEASE, CAN WE drive?” I ask for the hundredth time while trying to cram what feels like everything I own
into my carry-on — in reality, I’ve only packed a few dozen things I’ll need for the weekend. “No. The answer’s no. Just like it was yesterday and the day before. It’ll be the same when you ask in five minutes.” I roll my eyes as Sky continues his man-rant. “We drove last time. Ten hours, Mira. I love you, Sweets, but not enough to listen to you moan and complain it’s taking too long the entire time.” “But I can’t fit everything in here,” I huff, collapsing on the bed in pure dramatic fashion. “Pretty sure there was a luggage set you had to have last year that cost more than we could afford. How about we get our use out of it, seeing as we rarely ever leave this town?” “First of all, Smart-Mouth, that set was on sale. Sixty percent off. And we do leave. In fact, we’re leaving right now. Now, finally, do the math, Skylar … last minute flights plus two nights in a ritzy hotel plus whatever we spend while we’re there equals more than we can afford,” I mock, using his words against him. “The fifty bucks it’ll cost to check one damn bag is a payment on Adalyn’s braces or something toward Liam’s daycare.” Skylar mutters something under his breath, no doubt bitching about me worrying over money … again. I can’t help it, though. Every penny we haven’t dedicated to the kids and typical household expenses is wrapped up in the garage we’ve been trying to get off the ground. Tool boxes, hoists, insurance, and rent on a building are far from cheap. But I can’t complain. Every dream I’ve ever had — even some I had no idea I wanted until, well, I did — Skylar was there, holding me up and supporting me any way he could. Whether it was taking house and kid duty while I studied my ass off for my real estate license, or all the time I spent going back to college for a second degree in marketing, the man’s been my rock. My mom ears allow me to hear every damn thing that comes out of his mouth, so instead of responding the way I usually would when he thinks he’s being sneaky, I ignore it. Plastering a smile on my face, I change the direction of this conversation. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it all figured out. Make sure you have everything you need.” This weekend’s too important to get off on the wrong foot. Since Adalyn was born, we haven’t really left home without the kids for more than one night here or there. Skylar’s mom is amazing, but like my mother, she’s getting older. Liam, our sweet boy, is a handful
… and that’s being generous. Smartest kid I’ve ever met, but he’s constantly on the go, and unless you’re experienced in Liam, overnight visits just aren’t a thing. Luckily for us — but unlucky for them — Kylee and Jacoby aren’t joining us this weekend. Jacoby’s spunky-but-genius daughter, Shelby, is graduating early and the ceremony happens to coincide with the date Danny and Melissa chose for this last-minute wedding. Our kids are staying with Ky, and their nanny will look after all three kids while we’re gone. The whole gang won’t be together, but I’ve promised a play-by-play the second we get home. Knowing Danny, there will be enough pictures to fill numerous photo albums. “I’m all done,” Skylar says, zipping his bag closed. “You finish doing what you need to do while I take the kids over to Kylee’s. Be ready to go in thirty?” “Oh no you don’t, sir. I want to drop them off with you. Wait for me … I just have to find my backpack. The airline said one carry-on and one personal item, right? I can fit everything else in there and shove my dress in the bag with your suit.” “Sweets, the second we pull in their driveway, you’re going to be a blubbering mess, and that’s going to make the kids cry, and if they’re crying, you won’t leave. Then, after everyone’s finally done being overdramatic, we’ll have missed our flight and it’s non-refundable.” “I hate when you’re right,” I sigh. Skylar places a quick kiss to the top of my head and leaves the room. Seconds later, the kids come bounding into our room with outstretched arms and squeals of going to spend the weekend with their aunt and uncle. Squeezing them tightly and getting my fill of their love, I fight back the tears threatening to spill. The front door closes behind them, leaving me to cry for a moment. Someone should have let me know being a mom wasn’t just the most exciting time I’d ever have, it’d also be the most emotionally trying experience. I mean, who the hell sheds tears because she gets a weekend alone with her husband? Obviously, only a mother can understand my struggle. With everything packed away in the appropriate bags, I rush through a shower and throw on some comfortable traveling clothes. The flight isn’t that long, but I’ll be damned if I’m trapped in a pair of jeans. Carrying my bags to the living room, I slip into a pair of sneakers to complete my ‘Mom Uniform’: leggings, oversized sweatshirt, Chucks, and hair piled on top of my head. Checking my purse to make sure I have our tickets, my wallet, and a charged e-reader with a book downloaded, since Skylar will surely fall asleep within minutes of take-off, I wait patiently until my husband returns. “You ready?” he asks, swinging the front door wide and propping open the storm door. “Yep. Kids good?” “Perfect. Now, get your ass in the car.”
“IS IT JUST me, or was that the craziest flight ever?” I ask as we walk through the colder-than-shit tunnel,
heading for the exits. “I was going to say the same thing. Did that flight attendant really ask to borrow your book when you were done?” “She did!” I exclaim. “Who does that? I mean, sure, I’ll share the name of the book with ya, but you’re not touching my baby.” I pat my e-reader lovingly before I tuck her safely away in my backpack, praying the flight attendant doesn’t follow me off the plane. Another reason I wanted to drive … this airport is insanely busy. Detroit Metro — while an international hub — isn’t this chaotic. LaGuardia, on the other hand, makes my head feel like I’m on the teacup ride at Disney — lightheaded, nauseous, and confused. Grabbing Skylar’s arm, I allow him to lead me. I doubt he has any more idea of where we’re going than I do, but at least he won’t let me get lost in the swarm of people which seems to double with every turn we make. Finally, we reach the exits, and I’m glad as hell I decided to not check a bag. I cannot imagine how crazy baggage claim is right now. There must have been two dozen flights arrive at the same time, and these were no small planes. Sky successfully hails a cab as if he’s a true New Yorker. Sure, we have taxis in Michigan, but we don’t use them. I have a theory they’re only there for decoration — to blend in with every other major metropolitan city — but other than that, they serve no purpose. The ride to the hotel takes forever; I could have probably read another book. I have no idea how Danny prefers this to home. Then, the giant buildings you only see in television shows and movies pull my attention from the lengthy ride and transport me somewhere magical. I’m frustrated when we enter the tunnel at Battery Park because I know if we weren’t in there, I could see the Statue of Liberty. Just as my frustration starts to rise, we exit the tunnel, pass a couple more lights, then pull up at the Marriott Hotel. An older man meets us at the cab with a bell cart, pulling our bags from the trunk and directing us to the concierge. “Do you think Danny and Melissa will mind if we skip dinner and go sightseeing?” I ask as we walk through the turn-style doors into the lobby of the hotel. “Damn right I’d mind,” Danny says, standing at the desk waiting for us. “I didn’t know you’d be here!” I squeal as I run into his waiting arms. He grips me tightly and spins me around in circles. God, I’ve missed him. Skylar steps closer and gives Melissa a hug and chaste kiss on the cheek, nowhere near the level of affection Danny and I are displaying. When Danny puts me back on my feet, Skylar pulls him for a “man hug” then retreats to grab my hand. Even after all these years, these two still have a little hesitancy when
we’re all together; it drives me crazy. “Skylar and Mira McBride checking in,” I say to the concierge, who looks irritated we’re blocking the way for anyone else trying to speak to him. I smile anyway and pull my credit card, driver’s license and paper with our reservation from my purse. He gives me a strange look and pushes my documents back toward me. “Your stay has already been covered. Here are the keys to your room.” He continues to run down a list of the hotel’s amenities, room service hours, and where I can find the closest Starbucks, which just happens to be right around the corner … inside the hotel! When he finally finishes his spiel, I’m allowed to speak. “What do you mean ‘covered’? I only placed the deposit online when I booked. Do you just charge at the end of the stay?” “No, ma’am. Mr. Thomas already took care of the charges, and your deposit will be refunded within a day or two, depending on your bank.” “Danny, man, you didn’t have to do that,” Skylar says. “Sorry, dude, my treat. If I would have thought about it, we would have gotten your plane tickets, too. Least I could do for hauling you guys out here on such short notice.” “That’s so sweet of you guys, but seriously, you didn’t have to,” I gush, giving Melissa a hug. “We wanted to. Really. It’s not a big deal,” she offers, cozying into Danny’s side, refusing to meet my eyes. I guess she still has some harsh feelings toward me after that whole “I’m gonna beat her ass” thing that happened when she and Danny first met. In my defense, I was still kind of engaged to him … but that’s history — at least to me. I have to say, I wasn’t sure these two would make it, but I’m sure as hell glad they did. After he moved to New York, she stayed in Michigan for about a year or so, then finally moved out here. A part of me always wondered if they never made any plans to get married because Danny was still upset over everything we went through right after college, but when he proposed at Christmas, I was probably just as happy as Melissa. I couldn’t really let myself be happy until I knew he was. There are no words to describe how much I truly love Skylar, but the little piece of me Danny owned for so long couldn’t be released until he found his forever. Now that he has, maybe we can all move on with our lives and let go of everything that went wrong with the relationships that meant the world to all of us. “Now, go unpack, get ready, and meet us back down here in thirty minutes. We have dinner reservations,” Danny says, ushering us toward the elevator. “Yes, sir,” I laugh. “Any specific attire?” “You’re perfect the way you are, but you might feel more comfortable in jeans,” Danny responds, and Skylar squeezes my hand. Yep, jealousy and alpha run deep with this one.
Chapter Two
Skylar
“THIS ROOM IS gorgeous. Look, Babe, you can see the river from here. Oh my God, it’s beautiful,” Mira
says in awe, bouncing around the suite from one room to the next. “We have a private bathroom in the bedroom and another out here. How amazing is this?” “It’s great,” I state flatly. While grateful Danny covered our stay, as a man, I can’t help my frustration. I would have done the same thing for them, so I can’t fault Danny or Melissa, but this wasn’t just for a visit. This was for me and Mira to get away for a couple of days. I wanted to treat my wife to a great minivacation. I didn’t want someone else — her ex-fiancé — financing our getaway. It’s stupid, I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. “Babe, what’s wrong?” she asks, stepping behind me and wrapping her arms around my middle. Some of the stress evaporates as she lays her cheek against my back. “Nothing,” I lie, not wanting to start an argument at the beginning of our trip. “Are you upset Danny paid for the room?” The woman knows me too well. “Not upset, just unsettled.” “He’s being nice. They’re being nice. We’ll just stick it back to them with a great gift.” “After all this time, I hate the fact I still get so worked up about it. This weekend should prove everything’s in the past and it all worked out how it was supposed to. I don’t know … it’s just weird. And only when we get around him do I feel this way. I shouldn’t, but I do.” “Sky,” she says softly, coming around to my front, never releasing her grip of my midsection. “You’re just being silly now.” Mira looks up at me, her emerald-green eyes sparkling with mischief. “A lot happened, but it’s been a really long time. We’re happy. He’s happy. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. Well, maybe not exactly.” Her voice drops an octave, and her eyebrows raise just a hint. Taking me by the hand, she walks me into the bedroom. Kicking off her shoes, she releases me and pulls her hoodie over her head. Next to go are her leggings. Standing before me in only a black sports bra and same color thong, my mouth waters. I’ll never get enough of this woman. I’ve heard some of my buddies bitching about their wives after they’ve had a couple kids, but Mira … she’s fucking perfect. A wider set of hips, all the better for grabbing. Tits still big but with a little more sway and bounce to them when she rides my dick. I don’t know why they complain because these subtle
changes in her body make her even more amazing. “You’re beautiful,” I growl in appreciation. “I’ve heard that one a time or two, Mr. McBride. Gonna have to come at me better than that,” she teases, and I fall for it … hook, line, and sinker. “You’re so fucking sexy, all I can think of is burying my dick so deep inside you, you won’t walk right for a week.” She turns and crawls up the bed until she’s reached the center, where she lies flat on her back, hair fanned around her head, and looks at me, her eyes begging me to hold true to my promise. My mouth waters as my cock becomes painfully hard. There’s never going to be a day I’ll ever get enough of her. “Anything else?” she purrs, egging me on. “Lift your hips, Sweets. Take off that scrap of fabric you call underwear and show me what’s mine.” She does exactly as I request — painstakingly slow, might I add. Taunting me as she slides her thumbs in at the hips, she shimmies her panties down her legs. Finally, when there’s nothing between me and her pussy, she spreads her legs, letting them fall to the sides, baring herself to me. I move to adjust myself in my pants before realizing they’re nothing but a barrier blocking my path. Just as slowly, I flick open the button and pull the zipper down so carefully you can make out each of the teeth as they let go. Mira licks her lips in anticipation, and I toss her a casual wink. “Not so nice when the shoe’s on the other foot, is it?” “Exactly the opposite. It’s so fucking sexy, I might just have to come before you get over here.” The woman dips her hand between her parted thighs and runs a finger from her core to her clit, expertly manipulating the swollen bud. Having never been good at playing slow and steady wins the race, I tear off my jeans, boxers, and tee shirt in a frenzy and all but dive onto the bed. I nip at her finger, demanding she remove it so I can give her what she needs. Mira doesn’t make it easy on me, swirling a few more times before turning over control. When it’s just my mouth on her pussy, I devour her like a starved man, savoring every second, demanding every cry and moan from her as if I’ll never hear it again, committing every sexy sound to memory. “You’re so fucking good at that,” Mira says between panting breaths. “And that’s just the opening act. Get ready, ma’am, the main attraction’s coming soon.” Without warning, I flip her over, yank her hips up and back, and drive my dick so deep inside Mira my balls slap hard against her clit, sending her spiraling again. Mercilessly and relentlessly, I thrust into her, my own need creeping down the base of my spine as another orgasm crashes over Mira. When we’re both spent and exhausted, only then do I realize we were supposed to have met Danny and Melissa downstairs ten minutes ago. I rip open my bag, pulling out a clean pair of jeans and a button-up shirt. Tossing Mira’s backpack on the bed next to her sated body, she looks at me with a questioning stare.
“No, it’s okay. Tell them jet lag and come back to bed,” she whines, her eyes glazed over and hair perfectly fanned around her head. “Jet lag only works when you’re out of the time zone you came from. Now, up you go.” I grab her ankles and pull her down the bed, dragging her to a sitting position. “Dressed. Unless you want them coming up here to look for us?” “Oh God, no!” Mira squeals, jumping off the bed. “It smells like sex and more sex. They’ll know. Oh my God, they can’t know.” “Pretty sure if they’re in the lobby waiting, as soon as we arrive, looking all happy and shit, they’re gonna know, Sweets.” Her cheeks flush an adorable shade of pink, but she shakes it off and starts grabbing clothes from her bag. After another ten minutes pass, we’re both slipping into our shoes when a knock sounds at the door. I look at Mira and wink, bringing the blush back to her face. “Uhhhh, we’ll be right out,” Mira grabs her coat and stammers as if we’re teenagers being interrupted by our parents. Looking at her standing at the door, impatiently waiting for me to join her, I’m absolutely amazed. How it’s ever taken her more than ten minutes to get ready astounds me. She’s breathtaking. Stunning. Mine. “Do I look okay?” she asks nervously, earning a grin from me. “If you looked any better we’d be telling Danny and Melissa we’re suddenly jet lagged.” Giving her one final wink, we leave the room and head out into the city with our old friends, surely to have an adventure we’ll never forget. That is, if Mira can regain feeling in her legs and walk like a normal human. Then again, I think I prefer it this way. What can I say … my word is my bond.
LEAVE IT TO Danny to get a limo for us tonight. He claims it’s so we’ll all be able to stay together and not
have to risk taking two separate cabs, but I can’t shake the feeling he’s still into Mira and wants to impress her. Not that I’d blame him for still carrying a torch, but I’m nowhere near the vicinity of willing to let him take another shot at her. The only reason he got one before was because I felt guilty. There’s no more of that. Mira and I have built a life together … we have children and a home. Danny is just the boy she dated in college, and I’m the man she chose. She. Chose. Me. “It’s so beautiful here, Danny. I can see why you stay,” Mira gushes, looking out the window as she watches the city go past us in a blur.
“I never thought I’d love anywhere as much as home, but this place,” he says, grabbing Melissa’s hand, “it’s ours.” I relax for a moment, seeing the two of them together — Danny and Melissa. She’s not anywhere near as beautiful as my wife, but she looks right sitting with Danny. In my opinion, Mira never did. Maybe that was my personal bias speaking, but I always saw Mira by my side. “Wanna go for round two when we get back?” Mira whispers while Danny and Melissa talk about final details for tomorrow. “I was thinking the exact same thing,” I answer, venturing a look at Danny. He probably won’t buy it, but hell, it’s worth a shot. “Mira’s not feeling so hot. Planes do that to her. Would you two mind if we cut out on the sightseeing tonight so I can get Mira back and in tip-top shape for tomorrow?” “Oh goodness. No, please,” Melissa answers, then leans toward the divider separating us from the driver. “Please take us back to the Marriott Downtown. Thank you.” It takes us roughly forty minutes to get back because the driver takes the long way, allowing Mira to see all the sights she’d put on her list. Broadway … check. Times Square … check. Empire State Building … check. Rockefeller Center … check. Basically, everything except Central Park, but I’ll take her before we head home. As rarely as we get to see Danny, it’s also damn near impossible for me to get my wife alone for more than an hour before kids come breaking down the door. I’m going to take full advantage of this weekend. We’ll be with Danny the entire day tomorrow, but tonight, my woman’s all mine. And I’m gonna do everything I can to prove that to her, time and time again, before my body gives out from exhaustion.
Chapter Three
Mira
WAKING UP THE next morning, deliciously sore in all the right places, I decide to let Skylar get a little extra
sleep while I take a shower. When I emerge from the steam-filled bathroom, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed wearing his suit. Dammit, how does he do it? His carefully-placed tattoos barely peek out of the sleeves of the jacket and the collar of the shirt. His longer-than-usual hair is expertly styled, not a single lock out of place. And fuck me, the cologne I got him for Christmas fills the air, making me want to drop my towel and go for round five. “I was in there … maybe … twenty minutes. How the hell do you look so amazing?” I ask, stepping between his legs and placing a kiss on the side of his freshly-shaved face. “Two showers in the room, babe,” he answers, dragging me down onto his lap for a kiss more suitable after having had more sex last night than we’ve had in an entire month. When you have kids, they should pass out disclaimers so you can sign away your sex drive and ability to do anything that doesn’t require a sippy cup, diaper change, or nightmare rescuer. I swear, if it’s not one kid, it’s the other. I tear myself away — my still tender body thanking me — and take the bag containing my dress into the bathroom before he reaches me again … or in case I need more and can’t break away again. If this continues, not only will we not make it to the library, we’ll never make it back home. Adalyn and Liam will have to permanently live with Kylee and Jacoby. Once dressed, I gently pin up my damp hair, exposing my neck, just how Sky likes. Throwing on a quick face of makeup — not wanting to upstage Melissa, but wanting to still look pretty — I go with a more natural look, which, again, is my husband’s favorite. Okay, it has nothing to do with Melissa. It’s all for my man who kills himself working for our family day in and day out. A little sex is great, but wearing my hair and face just how he likes, and not to mention, his favorite dress … Yeah, I’m going for broke. Danny calls from the lobby to let us know he’s waiting for us. After a quick glance in the mirror, and one back at the most handsome husband anyone could ever have, we’re heading toward the elevator handin-hand. “Have I told you today how absolutely breathtaking you are?” Sky asks with a heavy sexual undertone, and I wonder if we can knock one out before the lift stops or someone else gets inside.
“I’m sure you have, but I’ll never get tired of hearing it, so keep up the good work.” Skylar maneuvers himself behind me, still holding my hand, and pulls my arm behind my back. “There’s a lot I can do with you like this, Mrs. McBride.” “While I’d be happy to take you up on that offer, you’re gonna have to stop being my best man for a few hours because I think someone else needs you.” “I’m sure he’d understand,” Sky chuckles and pulls me closer to him, grinding his groin into my backside. “It’s a happy day, after all.” “Yes,” I sigh, playfully slapping him with my free hand, “but it’s his special day. However, if you’re still game after Melissa’s Sex and the City wedding of her dreams, I may or may not have a surprise for you.” “Does it involve you naked and my cock buried in your pussy?” “You’ll just have to wait and see,” I singsong. “Don’t plan on sleeping tonight, Princess Tease-A-Lot,” Sky whispers in my ear, sending goose bumps spreading across my skin and a fond slickness between my thighs. “Oh, you thought that was a tease.” I manage to dislodge my arm from his grasp and spin to face him. Pushing up on my tiptoes, with my hands on his shoulders, I place my mouth next to his ear only after kissing his jawline and purr, “I forgot to put on my panties.” “Motherfucker,” Sky hisses. I wink and blow a kiss. His calloused hands take hold of me, pulling me flush against his body—his arousal evident—and grab my ass with fierce possession in his eyes. I’m ready to test his theory of a quickie before the doors open, but we save the person viewing the video tapes a peep show because the elevator stops abruptly, dings, and as the doors part down the middle, Danny is excitedly waiting on the other side. “Could you two move any slower?” Danny asks, looking at his watch. “If we don’t make it uptown in time, you’re both dead. Dead.” “No worries, man,” Sky says reassuringly, clapping Danny on the back. “We got this. The car out front?” “Yeah. Sorry, bro. I’m just nervous. This is the right thing, right?” I enter the car first, scooting all the way to the far edge, followed by Danny, then Sky. Once we’re on the move, I take Danny’s hand in mine and ignore Skylar’s glare I can feel burning my skin without even having to look at him. “Daniel,” I start, “we’ve all been there. We all know how you’re feeling, but when it’s right, it’s right. I’ve seen you and Melissa together. I watch how you look at her, and I can honestly say this, Daniel Thomas, you never once looked at me that way. Because I wasn’t your one. Do you understand?” “But if I was wrong before, couldn’t I be wrong again?” “Dude,” Skylar interjects, placing his arm around Danny’s shoulders, “you weren’t wrong with Mira. Trust me, I married her. You guys would have been happy, but it wouldn’t have ever been perfect because
Melissa brings out something in you Mira never could. The same way Kylee does with Jacoby and Mira with me. This couldn’t be more right.” “I couldn’t do this without you guys. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” “There was no way we’d miss your day,” I say, squeezing Danny’s hand. “And who the hell else would have been your best man? I’m the only person suitable for the job. Nobody else knows the stories I’ve prepared for the toast.” “You wouldn’t,” Danny blanches. “Oh, I totally would. And I am. It’s the least I could do for you trying to steal my girl.” “In all fairness, you kinda stole her first,” Danny returns, and the whole car erupts in laughter. Except the driver, who’s glancing at us through the rearview mirror with a shocked look on his face.
Chapter Four
Danny
WE FINALLY REACH the library, and even after the conversation with Sky and Mi, I’m not sold on going into
the building. It takes a lot more prompting from my best friend and ex-fiancée before I’m ready to leave the car. Don’t get me wrong, I’m in love with Melissa; I can’t imagine my life without her. But after everything we went through in college, even a decade later, I’m wounded. I loved Mira with my whole heart. Even up until a few years ago, if she would have changed her mind, I would have dropped everything — my career, my house, Melissa — and gone running back. Things just felt so unfinished between us, even though it was over the second she woke up and her true feelings floated to the surface. Melissa was my saving grace during that time, but I had always wondered if she was a replacement … something to keep me distracted from the hurt and pain. Nothing happened between Skylar and Mira until after Mira and I broke our engagement, but the betrayal was still there. You can’t help who you love, I’m well aware, but there was a code — an agreement between best friends — and you don’t take what isn’t yours. With Skylar and me flanking Mira, we walk up the stairs to enter the library. The beautiful arches appear to be opening, welcoming us into the historic site. My heart races, and as we reach the last set of steps, Mira grabs both mine and Skylar’s hands. “You could have told me there were, like, a hundred stairs and I could have taken off my shoes,” Mira complains, and I chuckle. “Mi, the last thing you want to do is walk barefoot in New York City.” “Pffft,” she huffs. “That’s probably a myth, anyway. I’d be just fine. If you can walk barefoot through the streets of Downtown Detroit, NYC’s a breeze.” Skylar pulls open the door, allowing the warmth of the landmark to flow through my body. Suddenly, I’m at ease and know Melissa is the perfect person for me; I’ll never find anyone to complement me the way she does. I think Mira feels the stress leave my body because she squeezes my hand again, and when I look over at her, she’s wearing a smile bright enough to light the sky. “We told you so,” she whispers. “You think you know everything, huh?”
“I do. Always have. I was right about you, right about Sky, and even more right about you and Melissa.” “Mr. Thomas?” a man in a black, tailored suit asks as he approaches our trio. “Yes,” I answer. “Mr. Gregorich, I assume.” “You’re correct. Gentlemen, please follow me. Miss, if you follow Rebecca, she’ll take you to the bride’s dressing room.” A woman appears next to him, almost out of thin air. Mira looks to me, and I nod. “See you boys out there,” she says as she turns to follow the exceptionally tall, leggy blonde up another flight of stairs. As we round the corner into a generous-sized room, Skylar and I both chuckle when we hear Mira voicing her complaints about the amount of stairs. It’s what we don’t hear next that has us laughing so hard tears are streaming from our eyes—the clatter of her heels on the marble steps. The woman took off her damn shoes. “We’ll come get you when it’s time. Roughly fifteen minutes. If you need anything, please press zero on the phone in the corner.” “Thank you again, Mr. Gregorich, for helping pull this together so quickly. You’ve definitely made my wife-to-be an extremely happy camper.” “I appreciate your kind words, but you’ll find most of us here love nothing more than a happy ending. And when you told me your fiancée wanted to marry with the romance novels, we knew this was going to be very special.” With that last sentiment, he leaves Skylar and me alone. Looking around, I’m in awe of the architecture. Libraries were never my thing — more Kylee and Mira’s, and obviously Melissa’s — but from the marble surrounding us, to the exquisite detail in the arches, it’s all rather inspiring. “Well, man, this is it. Cheers.” Skylar pulls a flask from his jacket pocket, and I grin. Only Skylar would sneak booze into the New York City Public Library. “This is it. Thank you for everything. And I do mean everything.” “Oh, be quiet, you’re sounding like a chick,” Skylar scoffs, tipping back the flask before handing it over to me. “No, for real. I’ve known you nearly all my life. We had a few rough patches, but for the most part, there isn’t a single memory I have that doesn’t involve you. Had everything not worked out the way it did, I wouldn’t have met Melissa, and we wouldn’t be here. You and Mira … you guys have the most beautiful children, and after all this time you’re still so in love. I want that. Always have. It was hard as hell to finally get to this point, but this is the best day of my life.” “Well, if you like me so much, dress up as me for Halloween. Can you just take a drink and put your pussy away?” “I love you, man,” I laugh and take a swig of whiskey. “And I love the hell out of you, man. Let’s go get you married.” We shoot the shit for a few more minutes until Mr. Gregorich reappears and ushers us to a large, wide
aisle full of books, which I assume to be the romance novels Melissa wanted. “Your bride will be entering from this direction.” He points and I nod, my palms becoming clammy and my heart racing again. “Mrs. McBride will come first, followed by Miss DuMond.” As he walks away, another man steps up and introduces himself as the officiant conducting the ceremony and signing our marriage license. Minutes slowly tick by as I wait, and then soft music fills the room, echoing, and I know it’s time. This really is it. “You got this, man,” Skylar offers with a firm hand on my shoulder, reassuring me once again. Melissa and I had considered eloping, but in this moment, and the moments in the car ride over, I’ve never been happier for deciding to stay in the city and invite my family. Melissa’s couldn’t make it, so Mira offered to step in as matron of honor, which was surprising considering their strained past. But, nonetheless, Mira saved the day and made my fiancée happy. Mira rounds the bookcase first, smiling sweetly, but not at me. I turn around and observe the way Skylar watches Mira. Those two really are perfect for each other. When Mira reaches the end of the aisle, she attempts to whisper something to me before taking her spot, but just as she speaks, Melissa appears and everything Mira’s saying is lost on me. My girl is walking to me, and she’s fucking gorgeous. Her hair perfectly piled on top of her head, one of those short veil things covering her eyes, a dress which hugs her delicious curves — her ample breasts taunting me, even from a distance — and the smile on her face … it all nearly knocks me to my knees. How could I have ever questioned this? I don’t realize I’m crying until the salty tears find their way into the corner of my mouth. Quickly, I wipe them away with the back of my hand. Meli stops just before she reaches me, and the officiant asks, “Who gives this woman to this man?” Her smile starts to fade; I’m at a loss. She doesn’t have the best relationship with the family she has left, and they’re not here, so there’s nobody to give her away. Before I can make a move to just bring her to me, Skylar steps around me and grabs hold of Meli’s arm. “I do,” he responds. “Thank you,” I mouth to him. Melissa gives him a kiss on his cheek, much like she would have done if her father were here. Standing together, hand-in-hand, we face the officiant. Skylar leans into me before the man begins the ceremony. “I figured I owed ya one.” “We’re fucking even,” I whisper back. “Best gift ever.” The officiant is talking a mile a minute, and I’m not keeping up very well. Thankfully, we opted for traditional vows, so I only have to repeat what he says. I keep sneaking glances of Melissa until he finally asks us to face each other. Her blue eyes pierce through mine, and I can’t imagine being any happier. There’s no way it gets better than this. “Deborah Melissa DuMond, do you take Daniel Sawyer Thomas to be your lawfully wedded husband
…” He continues, but I hold my breath through it all, praying she says yes and I didn’t fail again. “I do,” she squeals, and I breathe again. Tasting the saltiness once more, I know it’s now my turn. “I, Daniel Sawyer Thomas, take Deborah Melissa DuMond, to be my lawfully wedded wife,” I repeat. We exchange rings, and the second that piece of gold is around my finger, I pull her to me without waiting for him to tell me to kiss my bride. She’s mine … I’ll seal the deal when I damn well feel like it, and I feel like it right this second. Skylar and Mira snicker, and Meli and I smile. “I guess that’s that. I now pronounce you husband and wife. And, for the first time, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Thomas,” the officiant gleefully says, and I kiss her again. Finally, after all this time, I got it right, and boy did I hit the jackpot.
Chapter Five
Mira
“THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL, wasn’t it? And how you stepped in to give Melissa away? You’re such an amazing
man,” I gush as we walk down the hall to our hotel room. “Yeah, it was pretty great. And I couldn’t let her be sad on her day. It’s the least I could do for Danny. After all, I did run away with his last fiancée.” “You didn’t run away with me, I ran away with you. Also, did you have to mention how he used to jerkoff to pictures of Brittney Spears when he was a teenager? Or how he was talking to a girl online when he was sixteen who ended up being his second cousin? You’re a terrible friend, Skylar McBride. A terrible, terrible friend. “It needed to be done,” he laughs and I can’t help but smile. Kylee’s my oldest friend, but that doesn’t go as far back as Skylar and Danny. I’m happy, above all else, that my two favorite guys were able to celebrate and have a good time the way they used to before … everything. “So,” Sky drawls, and I already know where this is going, “how about that surprise?” “What are you talking about?” I tease. “Oh, you know what I mean, Mrs. McBride.” Skylar puts the card in the door to unlock it. I barely step over the threshold before he throws me over his shoulder and stalks toward the bed. Tossing me gently in the center, Sky throws his coat on the floor. Eyes ablaze, he slowly unbuttons his shirt and lets it open while still tucked into his pants. I lick my lips and notice his impressive erection. Lucky me! “You mean this?” I ask, my voice husky and full of desire as I lift the hem of my dress, exposing my nakedness beneath it. “I totally forgot I told you about me not wearing any panties.” “Come he,” he growls, and I shake my head. “Gonna have to come get it yourself, sir.” “You want it, you got it.” In three seconds flat, he’s out of all his clothing and has me wrapped in his arms. Skylar kisses me with the same intensity he always has. Never once have I wondered how much this man truly loves me, and I don’t think I ever will. He throws it all behind those wicked lips of his and makes sure I know who I belong to with every swipe of his tongue.
“I love you,” I whisper when he leaves my mouth to trail his lips down my neck. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known.” I barely make out my last statement when he bites at the sensitive area between my neck and shoulder. “I love you so fucking much, Mira. More than anything. You’re everything I could have ever wanted.” I pull his face back to mine and lean up to rest our foreheads together. “I’d do it all over again. I only wish you were the one who’d asked me out first. We could have avoided hurting anyone.” “Sweets,” he hushes me, “love isn’t always easy. How could anyone not love you? You’re the most perfect person in the world. But you were made for me. Our past makes us better for our future. They’ll write love stories about what we have.” “Slow tonight, Sky. Make love to me. Make me feel your love.” Skylar doesn’t bother taking me out of my dress. He leans up on his elbow and positions himself at my entrance with the other hand. Without taking his eyes off mine, he gently thrusts into me, resting there for a moment to let me adjust. I wrap myself around Skylar, enjoying every second he’s inside me as he gradually leads me to that glorious point where I fly off the edge of the cliff. “I love you, Mira. I love you so much,” he says again, his voice thick and gravelly. “Oh, God, Sky, I love you. You’re my perfect.” “I’m so lucky you chose me. So fucking lucky.” “Baby, I didn’t choose you. My heart did.” Finally, blissfully, I freefall into oblivion, my husband not far behind me. What a perfect way to end our weekend in New York City — a place I’ve only dreamed of visiting. I couldn’t care less if I go to anymore landmarks. This was exactly what I truly wanted. Central Park will be there forever, but this moment with Skylar … it’s what we needed to reaffirm how much we love each other. Day-to-day life gets mundane, and with children, it’s a whirlwind at the same time. There’s never time for just us, but these last couple of days … nothing could have been more right for us. On our last night here, I fall asleep in the arms of my husband, knowing our children are happy and safe with their aunt and uncle. Our best friend is spending his honeymoon with the woman who was made for him. And us … the faint glow of the moon off the Hudson through our open blinds just reminds me of how fate works. Everything happens for a reason, and there’s a reason for everything. He’s my reason. I’m his everything. That’s us. *** Until We Meet Again ***
About the Author ASHLEY SUZANNE has been writing as long as she can remember. As a youngster, she was always creating stories and talking to her imaginary friends. Thankfully, her parents also carried this love of fiction and helped her grow into the writer she is today. Ashley is an international bestselling author and spends equal amounts of time writing and reading. Being the true book whore she is, Ashley would rather dive into a good book before going outside. Ashley’s constantly thinking of new ideas and characters to keep her from her busy schedule of watching crappy reality TV. Binge watching shows on Netflix sometimes interferes, too. P.S. Ashley is kind of amazing, and you might want to be her friend—she likes ketchup and hot sauce on her French fries. Ashley is represented by Marisa Corvisiero with the Corvisiero Literary Agency. You can find Ashley on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or her website.
Other Works By Ashley Suzanne THE DESTINED SERIES Mirage (Book 1) Inception (Book 1.5) Awakening (Book 2) Façade (Book 3) Epiphany (Book 4) Destined Series Box Set FIGHT OR FLIGHT SERIES – STAND ALONE NOVELS Raven (Book 1) Cutter (Book 2) THE CLAIM SERIES CLAIM Volume 1 CLAIM Volume 2 CLAIM Volume 3 CLAIM Complete Collection STAND ALONE NOVELS Calling Card Breaking Noah Slow Grind Rekindle
The Wedding-Night Stand
by Ava Harrison
Fate. Destiny. True love. Words I never believed in. Until suddenly, from atop of a stairwell, I understood. From that moment, every story I had ever read in fairytales, every happily-ever-after romance, and every whimsical tale of love at first sight didn’t sound so silly after all. Because with one look—one flash of a smile—it all came together. This is that story. The tale of one girl and one boy, and how they fell in love.
Chapter One THE SUN CASCADED through the trees, casting a glow of brilliant white light that bathed me in its warmth.
Summer was finally upon us. The air was thick with humidity, and as I reclined to bask in the heat, I felt relaxed for the first time in weeks. Work had started to wear on me with deadlines and the usual hustle and bustle of the city, leading me to my mother’s house for the weekend. I had never been there before. I loved my mom dearly, but commitment to one residence was not her strong suit—we’d moved so much in the past that we basically lived out of suitcases and boxes. My eyes closed of their own accord, welcoming the warmth. Every bit of tension left my body. I don’t know if it was the summer heat, but a smile spread across my face. I heard the familiar cough of my mom approaching. “Hey, Emma,” she said from behind me. “Oh, hey, Mom.” My eyes popped open and I turned on the lounge chair to speak to her. She seemed ethereal as she approached, the sunlight that streamed through her strawberry blond hair giving her a glow. She looked happy here. She was at peace in her life, but as her hand sparkled in the mid-morning light, I knew her outlook had more to do with the piece of jewelry it bore—in the form of a brand new wedding band. After years of being single following her divorce, my mom met a man on a cruise around the world and enjoyed a whirlwind romance. By the time the boat docked at its finally destination, she was married. My eyes rolled at that notion. Love at first sight, my ass! After three years of being single in New York City, dating numerous men and having one too many bad blind dates in which I had to phone a friend to fake an “illness” so I could leave, I was starting to doubt the chance of love in general, let alone falling madly and deeply in love with someone at first glance. Most recently, I had met someone I thought was different. We hit it off right off the bat. There were no awkward silences on our dates, and by the time I asked him to be my date for a wedding, we had shared a few steamy make-out sessions that showed plenty of potential. Finally, I started to believe I might have found my chance at the big HEA, but lo and behold, two days ago he dumped my ass, leaving me in the lurch with no plus one for my friend’s nuptials this evening. I felt as if a weight was crushing my chest, and the mere thought of even looking at happy couples left me bitter and jealous. “What time do you have to leave for the wedding?” Her right brow rose in question. A groan escaped my mouth before I could stop it, causing small lines to crease my mother’s face. “Do I have to go?” I whined. “She’s one of your closet friends. Of course you have to go.” She gave me a tight smile. She knew I had been dumped. That was the reason for my visit; I needed a night out of the city for fresh air to get over
my depression. Nothing was better than going home to your mom and eating home cooked comfort food when you were sad. “I won’t know anyone.” I was starting to sound like a petulant child. “Well, maybe—” “Don’t even go there, Mom. My date canceled on me two days before the wedding. I’m going alone, and it’s going to suck. And to make matters worse, Olivia said she was seating me next to her sister’s brother-in-law.” “What’s the problem with that?” I let out an audible huff. “I went to college with Olivia’s brother-in-law Trent and I remember his brother from college. He’s like ten.” “I highly doubt he’s ten, dear.” “No, Mom. Really. I saw him once when he was visiting Trent. He looked ten, and that was only six years ago, when I was a freshman . . .” I scrunched my nose. “So maybe he’s sixteen now.” My mom stifled back a laugh and then after a second smiled. I could see hope glimmering in her green eyes. “You never know what the future will bring. Sometimes fate has other plans for us—” “No. Just because love fell into your lap when you weren’t expecting it, doesn’t mean it will happen to me. Plus, I’m done looking for love. I’m done searching and struggling and crying over men. I’m over it.” She shook her head once, and then nodded. I could see a small smile forming on her face. “I said the same thing once. I also said I was done and stopped caring about it. Then it happened.” The lines on her cheeks grew wider as her lips split farther. I swear I heard a chuckle as she turned and walked back into the house. Whatever. I had spent years searching, hoping, and praying to find Mr. Right, but I was over it. I didn’t need to find love. I was done.
Chapter Two IT WAS OFFICIAL. I was at this wedding alone.
My eyes swept the lawn in front of me as I fidgeted in my seat. I knew no one. Okay fine, I knew at least three people, maybe four, but they were taking part in the wedding. I sat in the chair, sweating from the blistering summer heat as I looked for this stranger I would be sitting next to. At least I would have someone to talk to. Letting out a long sigh, I turned back to the flower-draped canopy to wait for the ceremony to begin. They were late to start and I was getting antsy, but then the music began to play through the air. My shoulders uncoiled and I allowed the peaceful melody to flow over me. Bridesmaids filed down the aisle. The groomsmen were next, followed by the groom. He was a handsome man with wavy blond hair, piercing blue eyes and a swagger that showed he knew it. When he reached the end of the long ivory runner, he turned to face the crowd and waited for his bride. The song switched, Pachelbel’s Canon in D softly serenading us as he shuffled back and forth on his feet. It made my lips quirk up. The way his body moved showed he was nervous and excited at the same time. As the bride continued her descent, his lips tipped up and a smile formed. This was my favorite part of a wedding. That moment when the groom first sees his bride. That moment when the love is so thick in the air you can see it. That moment when the love is tangible and contagious. I loved this part, even if it would never happen for me.
IT WASN’T OFTEN that I felt awkward or out of place, but since I only knew a handful of people, and the
bride and groom were nowhere to be seen, I did feel like an idiot standing by myself. I could only imagine what I looked like to those around me. Here I was, a pretty, petite blonde, all alone. At least my hair and makeup looked good. I had gone for jewel tones on my dress and eyelids to bring out the green in my eyes. But a lot of good it was, because as I stood at the bar during the cocktail hour, I feared this night would be long and painful. Searching the room, I spotted a familiar face in the crowd. I let out a sigh of relief. At least now I had someone to talk to. I decided to make my way over to him. As I approached, he caught me and his brown eyes lit up with excitement as well. “Hey, Trent. Long time no see.”
“Good to see you, Emma. How many years has it been?” “Four?” I asked. “At least that. Since you graduated and I was finishing my junior year.” He nodded once then looked over to the bartender who had just made his way to where we stood. “What are you having?” he said as he looked back at me. “What are you having?” I smirked and his own mouth lifted into a smile. Doing shots of tequila was the one thing we bonded over in our formative years. “Like the good old days,” he said, turning toward the bartender again. As we waited for drinks, I scanned the room around me. The chatter of voices filled the air as couples laughed and smiled over the festivities. I couldn’t help but think how fun it would be to be here with someone who meant something to me. How wonderful to dance and celebrate with someone I cared about. I turned back to the bartender to order another shot to drown out the visions, when out of nowhere my breath hitched in my chest. Across the bar, my eyes made contact and locked in a stare. His were dark and beautiful. Mesmerizing and captivating. Dark. Soulful. They captured me. Held me prisoner. The intensity of his deep brown eyes caused heat to crawl up my body and chills to descend down my spine. The visceral reaction was unlike any I’d had before, so intense I feared I might falter. I was forced to break the stare and look away, letting both my body and my breathing return to normal. “So, where is this brother of yours?” I finally asked Trent, trying to distract myself from the gorgeous stranger across the bar. “Right next to you,” a raspy voice said from beside me, the timbre warm to my ears. I tilted my head to the side and lifted my gaze to search out the owner. My knees wobbled beneath me. It was the guy from across the bar. “Someone mentioned me?” His lips turned up into a wicked smirk. “Apparently you’re sitting next to me,” I replied, trying to be witty and not tongue-tied from his mere presence. This man was certainly not fifteen years old, and Lord, did he age well. “Then you must be Emma.” He reached out his hand and I placed mine in his strong grasp. “That I am. Grant, right?” He nodded. “What are you having to drink? Trent and I were about to order another round of tequila shots.” With that, Grant finally pulled his gaze away from me and nodded in welcome to his brother as he ran his fingers through his tousled brown hair. Turning back to me, he turned his lips up. A dimple formed in his right cheek. Wow. “A girl after my own heart. Get one for me too, bro, ” he said and then from beside me, Trent ordered and I turned to wait for the drink. I didn’t notice any sound when Grant moved closer to the bar, but I felt his body heat. His warmth caged me and made my heart rate flutter from the close proximity. His presence robbed me of the ability to breathe. He was all-consuming in this room. Every bit of air belonged to him. To hell with it . . . Maybe I wouldn’t find love, and maybe I’d never see this man again, but I would throw caution to the
wind and have the best damn night imaginable. And landing in this man’s bed seemed the perfect solution. Shot after shot, I became more relaxed. With each drink that passed down my throat I stepped closer to him, allowing my arm to rest on his on the cool Lucite surface of the bar. Tilting my head up, I met his gaze. “Would you like to dance?” he rasped out amid the sound of the music filtering around us. His voice was like warm honey, coating me and filling the unimaginable need to have his body pressed against mine. “How old are you?” I wanted this man, but if he was only twenty-one . . . well as lonely as I was, even I had my limits. “Twenty-Four.” Thank God. Only a year younger than me. I looked him over again. Wow he must have been a late bloomer. “Yes,” I finally whispered back. The word came out so low, I wasn’t sure he heard me, but it didn’t matter. From the look and heat in his stare, he knew my answer. He responded with no words, placing his firm hand to the small of my back. Together we walked until I found myself engulfed in his embrace. Until our bodies were pressed together in a push and pull of emotions. Need. Want. As his hand trailed down the exposed skin of my back, I couldn’t wait for our night to begin.
Chapter Three BY THE TIME we made it into the city, my mind was made up. I would have a one-night stand with this
amazing man. The wedding was fantastic, but it was only that way because of Grant. We danced, we drank, we laughed. But most of all, the idea of his lips on me had consumed every thought in my mind since the first moment I saw him. As we rode back into the city he asked my address, and I brazenly declared wherever he was going. He flashed me that heart-stopping smile and told the driver to take us to The Ritz. When we were only about a block away I looked out the window and saw a couple getting into a horse-drawn carriage. “That seems fun,” I said to myself more than to him but he spun toward me. “What do you mean? You’ve never taken a horse carriage ride through Central Park?” “Never in all the years I’ve lived here, have I ever taken a horse carriage ride.” “Stop the car!” he shouted to the driver. It seemed we were getting out early. He smirked at me. “Well, that’s about to change.” With that, he helped me out of the car and led me to the carriage. As it started its journey down the path and into the park, I turned my head toward him. His pupils were large. Dilated. The moonlight reflected off his eyes, my own reflection staring back at me. There was a look in his eyes, something primal, pulling me in. It spoke to me of want, of desperation, of need. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited, the passing seconds filling the space between. Please kiss me. He closed the distance. His arms wrapped around me, bringing my body to his. Then his firm lips found mine. As he plundered my mouth, the pads of his fingers gripped my neck, causing chills and tingles to cascade down my back. Each place his fingers touched came alive. I fell into his deepening kiss, allowing it to suck me in and own me. It was intoxicating. A cough brought us out of our haze. It reminded us that we were not alone; that we were, in fact, back where we started. One block away from his hotel. How had the time passed so fast? Was the night about to end? Did I want it to end? The answer rang in my ears. It resonated in the beat of my heart that was pounding against my breastbone. No, I wasn’t ready to be done with him. I needed him. The anticipation of wanting him was almost too much to handle. Never in my life had I ever felt that way. The feeling that wove itself in and out of my bloodstream was heady, all encompassing.
Primal. He looked down at me in question as we descended from the carriage and stood mere inches apart on the street. I tipped my head and bit my lip with a nod, telling him with my eyes the answer to his unspoken question.
WITH SLOW, DELIBERATE movements I reached for the strap at my shoulder. It felt heavy as it pressed
against the pads of my fingers. Although nerves coursed through my veins I wanted this so much, I wouldn’t turn back; I moved my hands until the flimsy material hung along my arm. With one more exhale and through the pounding of my heart, I removed the other arm. The material of the dress fell to the floor, the sound soft and barely audible as it hit the carpet beneath me. I watched Grant’s intake of breath, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. It made everything inside me still. He tilted his head and then his lips turned up in a wicked smile. Slowly, he approached. I waited. My chest rose and fell, and I prayed he would touch me already. He stepped in, closer, and his long arms reached out and swept me into his embrace. Waves of excitement flew through my veins, heating me, lighting me on fire. Every bit of impatience I had melted away, allowing only desire to flow through the air. He pulled me even tighter into his arms and then his lips met mine. The tips of our tongues started a slow seductive dance. With measured, precious steps he walked us across the room and lay me across the bed. He stepped back to remove his own clothes, and from heavy-lidded eyes, I watched as he divested himself of his tuxedo. The jacket. The shirt. His pants. By the time he was ready to remove his boxers my chest was heaving. I watched from beneath hooded eyelids as he rolled on a condom, then the bed dipped as he joined me. Hovering over my body, he laid soft kisses across my torso, leading up to my mouth. His lips pressed against mine and it was sweet torture. Each swipe of his tongue made me need and want him more. We lay there devouring each other’s mouths. Minutes, seconds, I didn’t know how long it was. All I knew was by the time he pulled away and his eyes scanned my body, I was desperate for him. He reached down to stroke the hollow of my neck, and then worked his hands across my chest until his warm palms cupped my sensitive breasts, rubbing gently until each one peaked and pebbled. Shuddering, I sucked in a breath, waiting for more, and he gave me exactly what I needed as his tongue lapped against my rigid peaks like a
starved man. As he feasted, his hands moved lower, trailing down my abdomen, caressing my hip until he found my core. Cupping me. Teasing me. I was teetering on the edge of oblivion when he pulled away, leaving me vacant and desperate for him. I let out a primal moan. “I got you,” he breathed out and then he repositioned his body to where I needed him most. His grip tightened as he pushed forward, taking me fully, entering me completely. He thrust in and out, each stroke more powerful than the last. His sweet, delicious movements tortured me until all I could think and feel was his body within mine.
Chapter Four I STRETCHED MY arms out and they connected with a warm, firm body. My eyes fluttered open. What the
hell? Where am I? The previous evening rushed back to me. I’m in Grant’s hotel room. Lying next to him. A smile played against my lips as I remembered every kiss, every touch, every feeling from last night. But then another feeling replaced the previous ones . . . My back straightened and I moved to cover myself. Was I supposed to still be here? It was supposed to be a one-night stand. I had never done that before. I wasn’t sure of the protocol. Was I supposed to get up while he slept? Sneak out? I moved to cover myself with the sheet, trying to determine my exit route. As I lifted my body to get up, two large hands grasped me around the waist and pulled me back. The scruff on Grant’s chin rested on my exposed shoulder blade and tickled. He gently placed soft kisses across my skin, and with each press of his mouth a wave of chills formed, making me forget everything but his lips. “Where are you going?” he asked. “I—” “You figured you would escape.” He laughed. “I was,” I admitted on a sigh. “I’ve never done this before. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do.” “You stay for breakfast, obviously.” A chuckle escaped and it warmed my heart. “Oh, is that how this goes down?” I teased back. “Yep.” “Okay. Sounds good.” With one last kiss on my back, he pulled away. I missed the feel of his lips on my skin instantly. The mattress dipped as he rose from the bed. Turning to where he now stood, I watched as he walked over to the desk and pulled out the room service menu. With the menu in hand, he made his way to the closet and pulled out a big fluffy robe, then draped it over my side of the bed for me. “Thank you.” I smiled up at him. His lips split into a huge grin and that dimple formed again. Lord is it sexy. Was he this sinfully handsome last night? How can I ever have forgotten? It gave a boyish charm to such a stunning face. “So, what are you having?” he asked as he sat next to me and started to peruse the menu. Our bodies were close, his brushing against mine. It felt so comfortable to be with him. As if I had known him forever. It didn’t feel like a one-night stand, even though that was what it was. “Pancakes?” I lifted an eyebrow. “Or maybe French toast.” “What about both? We can share.”
For a second I wondered if that would be weird, to share a meal with a man I barely knew. But then I realized I might not know him . . . but I did just sleep with him. Sharing breakfast was the least of my concerns. “Sounds great.” After he ordered, I headed into the bathroom and tried to make myself presentable. I dabbed some toothpaste on my finger and then made work at reapplying a bit of cover up on my face, which, thank God, I had in my clutch from the wedding. By the time I made my way back into the room, the food had arrived and it smelled amazing. “I feel like I’m at a disadvantage. You know my brother, but I know nothing about you,” Grant said between bites. “What do you want to know?” “Everything. The only thing I know about you, other than you like tequila and never went on a horse carriage ride prior to last night, is where you went to college. What about what you do for a living?” “I’m a buyer for Echo. It’s a new chain of boutique stores across the city. We have five locations. My boss was actually at the wedding last night.” I reached for my water and took a sip. “Oh, really?” “Yeah, that’s how I ended up at Echo. Olivia married my boss’s cousin.” “Strange . . . Funny world it is. How long have you been working there?” “I’ve been with Echo since it launched its flagship store two years ago, but I’ve been working for Madison for years. Before I started there, I worked under her when she ran XYZ Boutique. After running the show there, she gathered some finances and investors and decided to start her own boutique in SoHo. It was so successful that we now have five locations.” “Wow, that’s pretty incredible.” His eyes were wide and I could tell he was genuinely interested. “Thanks. What about you? I know you’re in the family business, but what, pray tell, is the family business?” “We own shopping malls.” “Really? That’s super cool. Are they all in Chicago?” “No. They are all across the country. Recently, we branched out to the south. Florida is our latest venture.” “That’s really interesting.” “Yeah. I love it and I like working for my family,” he said with a smile, and it made my own lips turn up. “Working with your family must be great.” “It is.” He tilted his head to the side. “So, what about siblings?” “What about them?” I smiled back in a teasing manner. “You obviously know I have a brother. Are you an only child?”
“I’m one of four.” His eyes grew wide at my words. “Wow.” I laughed at his response. “Well, technically one of two, but then my father remarried and had two more kids with my stepmom.” “Are you close with them?” “They’re my life.” “That’s amazing.” I smiled at that. “Yeah, I think so, too. It’s not often you have that many kids who all get along so well. I’m very lucky. I only wished we lived closer to one another. They’re off in college, and my older sister is married and lives in Boston.” I took the last bite of my breakfast and thought how amazing it would be to all live in the same city; hell, even the same state. “And your parents?” “My mom is on Long Island, and my dad and his wife live in DC.” “So you’re alone in the city?” I nodded. “That’s got to be hard.” “Yeah, it is. It’s always been difficult. I was young when my father and his family moved away, so in the beginning I switched houses, but as I got older I saw them less and less. But enough about me. Tell me about you.” I bit my lip. It was hard, and often made me sad as I missed them tremendously. “We’re basically the Partridge family. Work together. Hang out together. Get drunk together.” He winked and I laughed. It sounded perfect. Amazing and wonderful. Everything I always hoped for my own future. Hearing that was when I started to fall. He continued to laugh and then he tilted his head to the side and a small line creased his brow. “Emma, this might be presumptuous, but I have no plans today and my flight to Miami isn’t until ten p.m. Would you . . .” He paused. “Would you like to spend the day with me?” “Yes.” Undeniably, yes.
Chapter Five I SAT AT my desk the next day, lost in my thoughts. Grant and I had a wonderful time. We went to Magnolia
Cupcakes, which he loved. We split a box of cupcakes, sampling each of the different flavors. Then we fought over who got to finish the red velvet, as it was both of our favorite. Ultimately we decided to go bite for bite, until his lips found mine and he licked the remainder of the icing off my lip. After that I wanted to go back to his hotel and ravish him, but instead decided against making a move and took him to my favorite place on earth, The Museum of Natural History. He loved it—which made me like him even more. Anyone who was as fascinated by the amazing structure as well as all the history housed within was someone I wanted to know better. When we approached his hotel after walking through the park from the museum, we parted with a kiss and promises to speak again, but I wasn’t sure if we would. This was only supposed to be for one night, so I left feeling lucky I spent the day with him. No matter what happened in the future, I was thankful I met him, because meeting a man like him showed me that maybe there was someone out there for me. “What’s going on with you?” I heard from my side and looked up to find my coworker Michelle staring down at me with her big blue eyes. Her hand rested on her narrow cocked hip. “I met a guy,” I said, turning my attention back to my computer so she wouldn’t notice the blush spreading across my cheeks. “You met a guy? Um, hello, details.” From the corner of my eye, I saw her lower herself to my desk to take a seat. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the desktop, indicating she was still waiting, and I knew I wasn’t getting out of answering. I let out a loud sigh. “Oh, fine. Remember how I said I had that wedding this past weekend?” Her eyes narrowed as she tried to recall. “You know, the one where my date stood me up,” I groaned out, and with that she nodded. “There was one other single guest, so they sat us next to each other.” “There were only two single people at this wedding? Wow. Really? Aren’t weddings supposed to be drunken meat markets?” She winked and her lips broke into a large smile. I couldn’t help but laugh because she was right, and apparently, even though there were only two of us, it still was a drunken meat market. I did get drunk . . . and I did go home with him. Just at that moment, Madison turned the corner and we abruptly stopped talking. Madison narrowed her eyes but I could see the smirk hiding beneath her glare. “What are you guys gossiping about? Please don’t stop on my account,” she teased. Even though she was our boss, she wasn’t much older than us, and regarded us both as little sisters. It actually was hard to take her seriously sometimes. She looked younger than us with her flawless skin and tall, lithe model
frame that she dressed in the best cutting-edge styles. “Emma met a guy,” Michelle giggled out and I rolled my eyes. “Oh, was it the hot guy at the wedding who made me forget my name when he smiled?” I had forgotten about that. During one of our numerous trips to the bar for a round of shots, we had bumped into Madison with her own date at the bar. “Um, yeah, that would be him.” “You met him, too, Madison?” Michelle piped in. “Met him, not so much. Drooled when he passed me? Yep.” “Interesting. What do you know about this hot guy, Mad? What’s the gossip?” Michelle inquired. I buried my head in my hands and groaned—loudly, eliciting a round of laughs. “From what I hear from Olivia, he’s quite the catch. Close-knit family, from Chicago. Has a shit ton of money.” “Damn girl,” Michelle’s voice echoed through the room. “You do know a lot. Like how much money are we talking about? Private plane money?” “Yes, private plane money.” My eyes widened at Madison’s assessment of Grant. I knew he was well off, but never imagined he was that wealthy. He was so down to earth, and often the people I met through work with that much money were not. “Do you have plans to see him again?” Michelle asked. “No,” I sighed “Do you think you will?” she continued, and I wished she would drop the subject. I didn’t know and that thought made my heart hurt. “Honestly, I don’t know.” “So, how did you leave it?” “A kiss good-bye.” “Good-bye?” “Yeah . . . Good-bye.” And even though we had only known each other one day, the thought brought a tear to my eye.
Chapter Six The day dragged on. He didn’t call. I shouldn’t be upset but I couldn’t help it. There was something there: a connection; an instant spark. Call it crazy, but I felt as if I had known him before I felt the comfort in his arms. The ease. The happiness. Maybe I misread the time we spent together, but I really thought he’d get in touch. Then on Tuesday my phone rang, and butterflies took flight in my belly. The screen read unknown number, but it was him. I knew it. “Hello,” I squeaked out, my heart rattling in my chest. “Emma.” His voice. God, his voice. In the time apart, I had forgotten what his voice did to me. “Grant.” “I got your number from Olivia. I have a meeting in the city that I’m flying in for, and I wasn’t planning on staying, but if you say you’ll go out with me again, I will.” He was coming here. He wanted to take me out. “I will,” I squeaked out. I wanted to control the excitement pouring out of me, but I didn’t think anything could hide the emotion in my voice. “Great, I’ll pick you up after work on Friday.”
Chapter Seven THE DAY HAD finally come. Grant was arriving today.
I spent my morning staring at my phone and pacing aimlessly. Even though we had that perfect wedding night, it was still just that: a “wedding-night” stand. This time was different. This time was real life. I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with oxygen. As I expelled all I had inhaled, one word lingered in my brain and helped me breathe again. Fate. Meeting him felt like fate.
I PICKED UP my steps as I shuffled across the lobby floor, but when I spotted him I noticed his brow was
creased with a fine line and his jaw was tight. “How was your flight in?” I leaned forward and placed my lips on his cheek. “Fine,” he replied but didn’t kiss me back. His eyes seemed tired, and dark circles shadowed them. “Are you okay?” “Tired.” His one-word answers were starting to aggravate me. I stepped back and bit my lip. He must have noticed my annoyance because he stepped toward me and placed his hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that. I’m just tired and I have a headache.” “No, I didn’t, but I understand. I sometimes get migraines. Let me get you some Motrin.” “I just took two, so it should hopefully kick in soon.” “Okay, good. Until you’re feeling better, what do you want to do?” His hand was warm on mine as he gave me a tender squeeze. “Would you mind terribly if we went up to my room?” I gave him a sideways look, but his lips pulled into a pained smile. “No, not for that. I don’t even think I could do that right now. My head hurts so badly I just want to lie down.” “I can leave,” I whispered, unsure of everything now, but he gave his head a gentle shake. “No, please don’t. I know I’m not the best of company, but I have to leave here in a few days for business again and I don’t want to miss a second I can spend with you.” His dark eyes were warm as they
peered into mine, erasing all the bad feelings I had only a second ago. They reminded me why I was here and how much I already cared for him. “Let’s go up to your room. We can order a coffee and lie in bed. The caffeine should help your headache.” He smiled again, and together, hand in hand we made our way to his hotel room.
HIS ARMS REACHED over his head as he woke, stretching the last bit of sleep out of his body. I wanted so
badly to touch him, to curl up in his arms and never leave. But since I was sitting at the desk across the room checking emails on my phone, that was impossible at the moment. He raised his brow in amusement and it became apparent I was caught ogling him. Raising himself to sitting, he tilted his head. “Now that I’m up, what do you want to do tonight?” I was silent for a moment; I had just received an email from my boss saying she was getting a group of people together to go out for her birthday the next day. Her birthday wasn’t actually until next week, so I was taken aback by the request. Now that Grant was in town, I wasn’t sure what to do. I guessed the only thing was to ask, and if worse came to worst and he said no, I would have to break the news to Madison. She’d understand. “I guess we can grab dinner. Do you mind going with me tomorrow to my boss’s party?” “Not at all.” We spent the rest of the night eating dinner instead of going out. Once again we ordered in room service. We spoke of everything; we spoke of nothing. He told me his favorite movies and, surprisingly, we had many of the same. We laughed. We smiled. And I knew, without a shred of doubt, even from the limited time I had spent with him, that he was different from all the other guys I had dated. That this was different. After dinner, and after the dishes were cleared, he lay me down on the great big bed and lavished me with soft kisses and gentle touches all through the night.
Chapter Eight WHEN THE TIME came to get ready for the party, I went home to shower and slip into a little black dress.
Grant said he would pick me up on the way. Even though I was away from him for only a short time, I missed his presence. I missed finding him staring at me, and the comfortable silence we had settled into in such a short time. Only a week had passed since the horse carriage ride, but it felt as if I had known him my whole life. When seven p.m. hit, I walked outside my apartment to find him standing beside a car. The view in front of me took my breath away. He was dressed in a navy sport coat and matching slacks. His brown locks were tousled, and his dark eyes met mine as he openly took in my appearance. Sweeping me into his arms, he kissed the side of my neck. “You look gorgeous.” His voice was husky and I knew if I told him it was okay to not go, he wouldn’t hesitate to whisk me away to his hotel and have his way with me. “Thank you,” I giggled out as his lips tickled my skin.
WE ARRIVED AT The Stand a little past seven thirty. The Stand was a trendy little lounge that Madison’s
friend owned in the Meatpacking District. It was extremely exclusive, and Madison had reserved the corner bar for her private party. Black crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and mirrored walls made the light burst across the space like a meteor shower. It was exquisite. Taking a few steps closer to the bar, we found Madison. I introduced Grant to her, and then to Michelle. We did a celebratory round or three of shots, and then I watched as Michelle took a few more. It was a good thing we didn’t have work the next day, as she would surely be too hung over to function at all. Before long I found myself needing to go to the bathroom. I headed down the stairs and after I was done, found Michelle standing at the sink adjacent to mine. “So . . . Your guy with the plane.” I started to get uncomfortable. I waved my hand to try to stop her ranting. “He’s super hot, and better yet . . . He’s got a plane!” Her words were loud as she was drunk, and she continued on and on about his money. I tried to silence her as I looked around the room. When I realized she was too wasted to stop her teasing, I brushed it off and walked outside. I expected to find Grant there, but he wasn’t. He was gone. I ran up the stairs and looked around. He wasn’t at the bar. A sinking feeling wove its way through my stomach. Did he hear what Michelle said? I scanned the room
again, but still he was gone. He must have heard her. He must have thought I was using him. That I cared about the money. I felt crushed. Hollow. A part of me wondered if I was overreacting, but as the seconds passed, I started to think maybe I was right. Maybe he did leave. I lost him before I even found him. My heart seized in my chest. The mere thought of never seeing him again, of not laughing and kissing made my body shake. I couldn’t lose him. Frantically, I continued to search. Nothing. I stepped up on my tiptoes and tried to make out his face amongst the restaurant crowd. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I felt the little control I had remaining snap and break into a million pieces. As my heart thumped in my chest, I looked down the stairs one more time and toward the bathroom that must have sealed my fate. He heard. He heard all her comments and decided I wasn’t worth it. That I was using him. That he didn’t want me. This was just like Dustin, my original date for the wedding. We were supposed to meet and then he stood me up and dumped me via text. I yanked my phone out. Would I find a text from Grant? Nothing. I kept staring at my phone, knowing soon it would ring, that like last time, I would be dumped. Tears welled in my eyes and I blinked to let one tear drop. As it rolled down my cheek, I reopened them and was greeted by the most beautiful brown eyes. The space between us might have been vast, but it was as if nothing separated us. It was as if he was not standing at the bottom of the steps and I was not at the top. It was as if we were only a mere inch apart and the only two people in the world. He studied me with his intent gaze. I wondered if he saw the desperation of emotions swirling inside me. A beat passed. Then he took the steps two at a time until he was in front of me. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling me into his body. “I thought you left.” Another tear dripped down my face and he swiped at it. “Why would I leave?” His eyebrows drew down in confusion and I shook my head and smiled. I couldn’t tell him what happened. “I don’t know,” I finally answered. “I’m not going anywhere.” His lips met mine, teasing my mouth until I opened to him. I lost myself in his kiss, and when I thought I couldn’t take much more he pulled back and looked down at me with hungry, desperate eyes. “Back to the hotel,” he declared. “Back to the hotel,” I agreed. Together we stepped out into the city air. It sweltered around us but it didn’t matter. All I could think
about was the feel of my hand in his and the touch of his skin against mine. Everything else around us faded into the distance as we made our way back. When we arrived, no words were spoken. We were beyond speech. This was his last night before he returned home, before he went back to his life. When he pushed me against the foyer wall and devoured my mouth, I said nothing. I asked no questions, each kiss breaking my heart, because I couldn’t let him go. But I couldn’t keep him. With painfully slow movements, he lowered the strap of my dress, then shimmied my panties down my thighs to the floor. I stood naked before him. His eyes darkened, his pupils taking up the circumference of his irises. He only broke our connection as he lifted me into his arms and then carried me to the bed. Laying me down, he stepped back to strip away his clothes, and like a predator, crept back up the bed.
SUNLIGHT FILTERED IN, and as my eyes fluttered open, I briefly forgot where I was. But plush bedding and
gentle breathing from beside me reminded me that I was with Grant and today he would leave. We hadn’t spoken of a future; I wanted one, but declarations hadn’t been uttered. And although I prayed for it, I knew the chance was slim. I lived in New York and he lived in Chicago. We had known each other for less than two weeks.
IT HAD ONLY been an hour since Grant left, and I found myself lying in my apartment when my phone rang.
Grant. “I only have a few seconds. The plane is on the runway about to take off, and I know it might sound crazy, and I don’t expect you to respond or say it back, but I love you.” I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t form words. I tried, but my voice had been rendered useless. “I—” It was as if my mouth was sewn shut; I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say back. As I tried to speak, I heard someone in the background and then Grant’s breath in the phone. “Listen, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” Then I heard the sound of the phone hanging up. He was gone. Tears fell. Every image from our weekend played back. Every smile. Every smirk. Every glimmer of his eye. The tears fell faster and faster. I couldn’t let him go without telling him. He needed to know. Even though I was scared and I wasn’t
sure how this would all work out in the end, I knew I loved him, too. As crazy as that sounded, I had fallen in love with him. Picking up the phone, I dialed him back. It didn’t even ring, but went straight to voicemail. He must be in the air now. But now that I knew how I felt, I would keep calling. Because now that I knew, I needed to expel the words. Time crept by, and when the two-hour mark came and went, I called again. Voicemail again. I didn’t leave a message. I would give him another few minutes to land and then I would try again. Another twenty minutes passed and his phone rang, but he still didn’t answer. This time I left a message. “Please call me back. I have something to tell you.” I tried to keep myself busy, to distract myself, but every task seemed meaningless. The words left unsaid danced against my tongue, and I wondered if this was it. If I had lost my chance. Familiar feelings started to choke my mind, blanketing me in self-doubt. By the time I was laying down for the night I still had not heard from him. But he said he loved me . . . When the clock hit nine, my phone rang and I jumped. Excitement coursed through me, and my hand shook as I picked it up. “Hi.” “Sorry it took me so long to call you back. My brother picked me up at the airport, and then we had dinner with my parents. Is everything okay?” “I love you,” I blurted out. “What?” He sounded confused. “I love you. I know I didn’t say it before. When you did—” “I didn’t tell you that expecting you to say it back. We’ve only known each other for nine days and been around each other for half that time, so I understand—” “No, I do. I do love you. From that moment on the stairs, I knew—” “The stairs? That’s when you knew?” “Yeah. I couldn’t find you and I got scared that you left, and, well, when I saw you . . .” “When you saw me you knew,” he said in his confident voice, already knowing my answer. “Yes,” I confirmed, my voice sounding stronger, conveying the level of my feelings toward him. He let out a soft chuckle. “That’s the moment I knew, too. When you were standing there, I saw the look in your eyes. The way the light hit them, I could see the unshed tears. That moment I realized I never wanted to see you cry. That I would do anything to see you smile, and when I went to you and you did, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life seeing that.” “I feel the same way. But I’m here and you’re there. Now what do we do?” I all but whispered through the phone. “We make it work,” he said with no hesitation.
“But how?” My own unsure voice gave me away. “Don’t worry about that, Emma. I’ll make it work.” Again, there was no falter in his voice. He meant every word and I believed him. We would be together.
Epilogue GRANT STOOD IN the great ornate space in front of me. He didn’t look nervous, only happy and in love, and
when his eyes met mine and his smile spread across his face, everyone in the room could see how in love he was. This moment had always been my favorite, but when it happened to me it was unlike any feeling I had ever experienced. Hope. Home. Family. I was complete.
By Ava Harrison Imperfect Truth Through Her Eyes trans·fer·ence
About the Author AVA HARRISON is a New Yorker, born and bred. When she’s not journaling her life, you can find her
window shopping, cooking dinner for her family, or curled up on her couch reading a book. Website Facebook Twitter @avaharrison333 Instagram @AvaHarrisonAuthor Pinterest
One Night
by Callie Anderson
Panting… Desperate… Pleading for more. That’s how Landon Winthrop made me feel. Though I tried to fight it, it was pointless. My heart pounded for him. I wanted him. My body was craving his. One night, that’s all I allowed myself. After this we could go on with our lives like nothing had ever happened. There was only one problem. He was my boss.
Chapter One “WE’LL NEED ANOTHER bottle, please!” Mila shouted over the music blaring from the speaker next to our
VIP area. Trey’s was the hotspot to hang on a Friday night when there wasn’t any rain in the forecast, so we’d come right after work to celebrate. They were known for their semi-enclosed rooftop that regardless how cold it was outside it was still possible to enjoy a great party. It had started with drinks at the bar followed by dinner on the terrace, and we had moved from there to the lounge rooftop bar. You could always count on a city like Seattle to have everything in one swanky spot. “We don’t need anything else to drink,” I said and glanced past Mila toward the friendly server. “Water, please,” I mouthed, and she nodded in agreement. “Come on, Jules.” Mila sat back on the leather seat and pouted. “We need to keep the party going! We worked our butts off all year to land this account.” Her lower lip trembled. “Please.” “Fine!” I grabbed the champagne flute from the glass top table. “But you have to promise me you’ll drink a few glasses of water before you move on to another drink.” “Deal.” We both knew she was lying through her teeth. Jenna and Michelle, our other co-workers, were busy chatting with some guys they had met during happy hour. Those two were infamous for leaving their marks on men like them, rich and willing to spend their money. From what I recalled, the guys were on their way home when we said goodbye after happy hour. “Okay, okay, okay.” Mila stood from her seat. Though we had been here for hours, she still looked fabulous as though her makeup was natural and airbrushed. “This one is for our girl, Julie Cakes!” She lifted her flute in the air, and Jenna and Michelle followed suit. “This year has been hell at the firm, and without her, we would have never landed the Bennett Group. So, here’s to Jules!” “To Jules!” they all said in unison. I took a sip of my champagne, letting the bubbles tickle my lips. We worked for a small Public Relations company, based in Seattle. And when the news dropped that the Barnett Group hotel moguls had moved to the west coast and were in the process of constructing a few new hotels between Seattle and Los Angeles, I decided that our firm was going to be their PR team for all their events. We competed with other firms that were larger than us and had bigger clienteles, but I refused to admit defeat and spent nine months constructing the perfect grand opening party. “Let’s dance!” Mila shouted over the music. Jenna and Michelle jumped at the opportunity.
“I’ll be right back,” I said before heading to the ladies room. I needed any excuse to get away from the crowded dance floor. Dancing wasn’t my thing. I was the awkward person who didn’t like to side step for hours to the top forty songs the DJ always played. I preferred to work and when I wasn’t working I was cooped up in my house cooking. The February air was cool, and the sun had set on the horizon a few hours prior making the stars above visible. Instead of using the restroom, I walked over to the edge. My arms rested on the rail as I gazed out into the sea of tall skyscrapers. The Space Needle looked so close that if I squinted, I could almost see the tourists who walked around it grasping the beautiful views of Seattle. “You see that building right there?” a low voice sounded behind me. There was a hint of British or Scottish in his accent. Glancing to my left, I was greeted by a fine specimen of a man in a perfectly tailored suit that hugged at all the right places. I nodded, waiting for him to continue. “It’s mine.” He smiled. He took the space next to me and stood to my left. We were a few inches away from each other, and I could smell the delicious scent of his cologne. “You see that one there?” I pointed in the same direction he had previously. He looked where my finger was directed and then back at my face. “That one is mine.” I cocked an eyebrow. It wasn’t a complete lie since that was where the new hotel for the Bennett Group had been built. His body shifted and faced toward me. “Landon Winthrop,” he stated. Following his stance, I smiled. “Julie Calder.” Landon reached his hand out for mine. “It’s a pleasure.” “Same here.” I tried to hide the smile that was forming on my face by biting the inside of my cheeks. Landon’s presence was powerful, demanding authority, and it was hard to think when the air kept blowing his fresh cologne in my direction. “Are you here alone?” he asked. I shook my head, my eyes scanning his perfection. He was tall and handsome, the twinkling lights above making his wavy dark hair shine. And when my eyes landed on his piercing green eyes, it made it impossible to look anywhere else. “Are you okay?” he asked, and I shook my head again. Realizing that I had done that for the second time, I laughed. “I’m sorry.” I nervously brushed my hair away from my face. “You caught me off guard.” I sighed and let my hands rest at my sides. “I’m here with a few co-workers.” “Oh good. For a second there I thought you decided to act as though you were mute in order to make me leave you alone.” “That wouldn’t work. I spoke to you before, which then would let you know that I was a terrible liar.” “Very true.” He nodded and the boyish grin that grew on his face made it impossible not to stare. So instead, I looked back toward the skyscrapers. “It’s a beautiful city.” Landon said.
“You’re not from around here?” “I’ve been here before on business trips.” He exhaled and glanced over at me. “Tourist,” I mocked. “Make sure you visit the Space Needle.” “It’s a good thing you’re not a mute.” His lips pursed in amusement. “Your sarcasm would go to waste.” “I’ll take that as a compliment.” I glanced back in his direction. A giddiness was building inside of me which was odd because I wasn’t that type of girl. My life consisted of a tight schedule with deadlines and sixty-hour workweeks, and my luck with men was slim to none. Standing with a guy like Landon, in a bar, was not my thing. It was all-new to me, surreal, and I only hoped I was doing it right. Closing my eyes for a brief second, I tried to calm my rapid heartbeat. I could feel his gaze on my skin so I opened them. Instantly there was a spark between us. My cheeks curled up and I grinned. “Can I buy you a drink, Julie Calder?” His voice was soothing. “Yes.” I turned to face him and tried once more to calm my the hammering in my chest. “Yes, you can.” And just like that, the rule of no more drinks for the night went out the window. Could you blame me, though? Landon Winthrop was by far the sexiest man at Trey’s, and he was buying me a drink. His hand rested on the lower part of my back as he led me to the bar. Never leaving my side, I felt his body close to mine. “What can I get ya?” the bartender asked. “Two shots of tequila, please?” I asked and looked over at Landon. “Are both for you?” he whispered into my ear, and I reminded myself why I needed double the courage. Smiling up at him, I nodded. “Make it four,” he told the bartender. The bartender flipped four glasses in front of us before pouring the agave liquor into them. Garnishing each one with a wedge of lime, he gave Landon the total. “Cheers,” I said, handing Landon a shot glass. In one quick motion, I gulped back the tequila and bit into the lime. Holding his shot glass, he took a sip and covered his mouth with his fist. “That’s awful,” he said with disgust. “You’ve never had tequila before?” “No.” His lips were pursed. “I prefer whiskey.” “Then why did you get it?” I giggled. “Well, I thought it must be really good if you ordered two.” I laughed and pressed my hands to my lips. “Okay.” I tried to sound convincing. “You have to take it in one shot, then bite on the lime before you breathe out.” “I can do this,” Landon said with determination in his eyes. Following my instructions to the tee, his eyebrows pinched when he bit into the lime.
“Bad?” I asked timidly. “No,” he said sarcastically. “By the third one, you won’t even taste it.” Grasping the other two shot glasses, I handed him his. “You’ve seriously never had tequila?” He shook his head. “But it’s a rite of passage. Spring break, college parties, bad breakups…” “I went to school in England.” He chuckled. “That explains it.” I lifted my glass in the air. “To England.” “To England.” His face didn’t scrunch up like before. “That wasn’t so bad.” He smiled. “See?” I slapped his firm chest. “And now you’re filled with liquid courage.” “Really?” A devious grin grew on his face. “Yeah. Now anything you do for the next two hours or so you can blame it on the tequila.” Before the words were out of my mouth, Landon’s hands had framed my face and his soft lips captured mine. Breathless and confused, I stumbled back. My fingertips grazed over my lips that tingled from his touch. “Tequila.” Landon shrugged. “Tequila,” I whispered back and laced my arms around his neck. My lips kissed his, slow at first, and then his tongue met mine and the world around us disappeared. “I’m sorry,” Mila’s voice interrupted us, “but I’m looking for my friend. Have you seen her?” Embarrassed, I pulled away. “Sorry.” I laughed. “I should go,” I said to Landon. “It was nice meeting you.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. “You know, in the event I need more lessons on drinking tequila.” Quickly, my fingers tapped my number. “Have a good night, Landon.” My arms were laced around Mila as she led me out of the Trey rooftop and down toward the elevator. She hit the button for the main level. “Um, so last I saw you, you were headed to the ladies room. It then dawned on me that you had been gone for quite a while and, deciding it would be best to find my business partner, I went to look after you. And guess what?” Mila glanced at me and shook her head in amusement. “You weren’t in the bathroom. Instead, you were playing tonsil hockey in the middle of the bar!” I laughed and shrugged. “Tequila.” “That’s all you have to say for yourself?” “What do you want me to say?” “Tell me he has a brother or something because my God he was fucking hot!” “I know.” I pressed my head against the elevator door. “Knowing my luck he will be a stalker.” “Oh, that will be fun! You haven’t had one of those since last month.” Mila winked, and the elevator door opened.
Chapter Two MY ARMS STRETCHED over my head and I exhaled. The dream about Landon still lingered in my mind and
brought a smile to my face. I rolled over on the bed and noticed the time on the clock. “Crap! Crap! Crap!” Rummaging through my comforter, I located my phone. “Shit!” I said, noticing that I had silenced it the night before. I discarded my pajamas and rushed inside my bathroom. With my phone propped between my chin and shoulder, I managed to brush my teeth and call Mila at the same time. “Hello?” she answered, chipper as ever. “I’m…late…” I mumbled into the phone. “What? I can’t understand you.” “I’m going to be late,” I said after I rinsed my mouth. “My alarm never went off.” “Oh crap! You know we’re meeting with—” “I know! I know!” I ran out of the bathroom and rummaged through my closet. There was no time to shower. “Do your makeup on the bus, and I’ll meet you in the main lobby.” Ten minutes later, I stormed out of my house looking somewhat presentable. I managed to pull my hair back in a low bun and apply a decent amount of makeup to my face while I sat on the bus. Finished, I sat back and took a calming breath. It would all be okay. My phone chirped in my purse, so I pulled it out assuming it was Mila. To my surprise, it was another text message from Landon. We had spent the weekend texting each other back and forth. When I arrived home from Trey’s I was greeted with a text message. Landon: Tequila is my new best friend. Needless to say, I spent the entire weekend glued to my phone, and he was the reason my phone was silenced this morning. We were up late last night texting each other back and forth. There was no need for a loud chime when the phone was glued to my hand. My finger pressed the home button and unlocked the screen. Landon: Good morning. Me: It’s not that good.
Landon: Why not? No wet dreams of me? A smile grew on my face. Me: No to the dream. My alarm didn’t go off this morning and I’m late to a meeting. Landon: I’m sorry. Are you downtown? Maybe I can see you for lunch? Me: I don’t know. I have a meeting with a new client, so we’re trying to make a good first impression. From what my coworker said we’ll be surrounded by stuffy old men. Landon: Okay, keep me posted. I just got to the office. TTYL I bit my lower lip and scrolled up on my phone, rereading all the messages we sent to each other all weekend. Landon was the youngest of five children. He was born in Australia but had lived in eight different countries because his family moved a lot due to his father’s job, and he was fluent in English, Italian and Mandarin. I shoved Landon to the back of my mind. There was no room for distraction. It was time to get to work. Mila was pacing the front lobby when I pushed through the revolving door. “I’m here,” I said completely out of breath. “Oh thank heavens!” She rushed over to me with a large cup of coffee. “I was so afraid I was going to have to go up alone. Old farts in suits scare the crap out of me.” Taking a few gulps of the coffee she’d handed me, I asked, “How do I look?” Mila glanced over my wardrobe. “Surprisingly, all put together.” She smiled. “Come on, let’s go meet our new bosses.” She laced her arm with mine, and we strolled over to the receptionist desk. The Bennett Group was located on the 21st floor. With our shoulders back, we walked with grace down the hallway where the receptionist indicated the conference room was. “This is it,” I whispered with excitement. Mila pulled open the conference door and my gaze landed on two men. Neither seemed to be old and stuffy. One was sitting on the conference room table, his back toward the door, and the other smiled brightly when we walked into the room. My confidence grew stronger with each stride. It didn’t matter that I woke up late and had a horrific morning. I was in my zone. This was what I was good at. The gentleman who was smiling at the table stood and walked over to greet us. “Good morning,” he said, extending his hand. “Walter Campbell.” He shook Mila’s hand and then looked over at me. Behind him, I caught a glimpse of the man still sitting on top of the table. He was glued to his cell phone, but his
profile was recognizable. Instantly, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. “This is my business partner, Landon Winthrop,” Walter said, and I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head. “Oh snap,” Mila whispered under her breath. This was just my luck. No, he wasn’t a stalker. Just my new boss. My eyes locked with Landon, and a grin grew on his face. Slowly, I shook my head in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. Why had I not asked him where he worked? I watched in slow motion as he hopped off the table and began to walk toward us. Unable to move, Mila stepped in front of me and introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Mila Belov.” I watched as he nodded at her, but his eyes were glued on mine. Landon was all I could think of. Landon was my boss. Landon. Landon. Landon. “Tequila?” Landon whispered. The wide smile on his face did nothing to alleviate my terror. This was wrong. From the corner of my eye I noticed Walter looking at us with a puzzled look on his face. I shook the memories of our Friday night kiss out of my mind. I forced the cute text messages out of my memory. Turning toward Walter, I ignored Landon and introduced myself. “Julie Calder,” I said with a stern voice and shook his hand firmly. “Shall we?” I gestured to the conference room table and hoped that Walter hadn’t noticed that I blatantly ignored Landon. Stealing a quick glance, I ignored the puzzled look on his face. Landon and Walter sat on one side of the conference table, and Mila and I on the other. It was now time to work. There was no room to worry about what this meant for Landon and me. My hands were shaking when I flipped open my briefcase. I handed each of them the marketing strategy our firm had set up for the grand opening of their hotel. “Since you are opening the doors on Valentine’s Day weekend, we suggest a night filled with love. From our florist, to the decorators, we have instructed our staff to make it a magical night. I have also scheduled the A-list celebrities to attend, including the best DJ on the Western Hemisphere.” I flipped to the following page. “And we managed to hire an Iron Chef to cater the event.” I glanced up at Walter who was nodding in approval. My eyes moved to Landon. His grin paralyzed me and my heart rate sped up. Words refused to come out of my mouth. I was stuck, desperate to kiss him again. Mila must have sensed my hesitation because she took over, continuing with the presentation. Everything had been planned out, including a stand-by physician in the event he would be needed. We had covered it all. The only thing they had to do was hire us and show up the night of the party.
“This is good,” Walter said with a stoic face and glanced over to Landon. “Do you have any questions?” I lowered my head, avoiding Landon’s tantalizing eyes, but I knew that he hadn’t opened his packet. I knew he hadn’t moved since we sat down. I knew his eyes were glued to me. “Everything is perfect.” Walter clapped when Landon refused to answer his question. “We are all squared away for next Friday.” Mila stood. “It was a pleasure meeting you both. In the event you need anything from us, please don’t hesitate to call our office.” She extended her hand across the conference table. “If you need anything from us, just let us know,” Walter replied, sliding his business card toward her. “I hope you two have a wonderful day.” Nodding politely, I stood and quickly turned on my heels. My heart was racing, and I could hear the humming in my ears as I darted out of the conference room. My shins cramped from the large steps I took toward the elevator. Vigorously, I pressed the button willing the elevator door to open. When it finally did, I slipped inside and pressed my back against the wall. Gasping for air, I tried to calm my breathing. Mila slowly stepped inside, her eyes telling me everything I needed to know. “I completely screwed up the meeting.” I held my hand over my heart. “Was it that bad?” I said once the elevator door closed. She sighed and shrugged. “It was...” She paused trying to form the right word. “I'll be surprised if they don't cancel.” She shrugged. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back on the steel wall. “Fuck.” I banged my head once. Twice. Three times. “I'm so sorry, I froze.” “Girl, it happens.” Mila’s voice was soothing. “When you guys were making out, I highly doubt you had the chance to discuss work.” I groaned dramatically and watched as the doors slid open. "I'm going home,” I muttered. It would only be a matter of time before Walter and Landon called Dominic our manager and canceled the event. Mila's hand gripped my shoulder with a comforting touch. “It wasn't that bad, Jules. In your defense, he can't fire you because he didn't know who you were. It's unethical if you guys continue, but as long as you both come to an understanding, it shouldn’t be a problem.” “I know.” I pursed my lips together. “I just really liked him.” “Call me it you need anything?” she said, heading toward the revolving door. “Julie, wait!” His voice bellowed out through the lobby. I spun around to find Landon walking out of the second elevator. He looked delectable, handsome in his fine tailored suit. His hair was unruly, and his light green eyes were bright due to the sunlight. Landon's hand grasped onto mine, and before I could protest, he was leading me down the hallway. His touch alone made my head spin. He led me into an empty room. Slamming the door behind him, he pressed my body against it. His mouth captured mine, and I whimpered at his touch. Landon’s hands ran
up my body, pinning my wrists above my head, and I moaned with an aching need for him. He kissed the side of my neck and down my face, pushing his body forcefully into mine. Under the soft material of my pencil skirt, I could feel his raging hard cock begging to be released. When I bit down on his lower lip, he dropped my hands and cupped my breasts. Pinching my nipples, his tongue swirled with mine. Panting… Desperate… Pleading for more. Landon's hands moved down my legs before slowly lifting my skirt, but reality smacked me in the head, and I stopped him. “What are you doing?” I asked breathlessly. “Anything I can to change your mind about saying not to us.” His eyes glanced up at me hungrily, then a grin grew on his face before his lips crashed back onto mine. "Landon..." He framed my cheeks and I whimpered at his touch. “Please," I moaned between his lips. "You're my boss." “Don't,” he growled. “Don't change your mind about us. Let me take you to dinner later." His eyes were filled with desperation and hunger. "Please?" I gnawed on the inner part of my lip. How could I resist his charms? “Tequila," I whispered. “Tequila,” he muttered against my lips.
Chapter Three DAZED AND CONFUSED I paced my living room. What the hell was I doing? My job was my number one
priority, and I was risking it all for one date with a guy who tasted like tequila. Mila would be furious if she found out that we were going to dinner. This company was our baby. We’d built it together. We were a team, and yet I was betraying her by sleeping with our client. The Bennett Group was the biggest account we had. Hosting their parties and running the public relations would bring us to the next level, not to mention they were known for their hotels worldwide. The opportunities were endless. Yes, this event was a one-time thing, but by building on our client relationship, we had the potential to organize all their future events. This was our way out from under Dominic. This was how we were going to start our own company. By five in the afternoon, I had decided to call the entire thing off. Landon was just a guy, and this was my career. I had to think with my head and ignore the fact that I hadn’t had sex in months. Ten to be exact. Taking my phone off the charger, I slid the screen and dialed Landon’s phone. He answered it on the first ring. “Hello, gorgeous.” His voice was sexy and seductive, and my heart pleaded for me to go through with it. It kept replaying how his hands ran up my thighs, causing an aching feeling that was pure bliss between my legs. I closed my eyes and sighed. “I won't be able to make it today,” I lied. “Really?” He paused for a second and I continued to pace the living room conjuring up an excuse. “Why not?” “I'm stuck at the office, and I won’t get out of here on time. My boss is a real dick.” I nodded, believing my own lie. It seemed like a legitimate excuse. He had to know how devoted I was to my job. It was the reason he had hired us in the first place. “So the person pacing in your living room is your twin sister?” I halted. My heart sank, and I turned toward the window. My legs felt like Jell-O as I approached the corner of the window and hid behind the curtain. “Don't hide now,” his voice teased. “Oh my, God. You are a stalker.” I watched him standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He was still wearing the same suit, except this time there was no tie. “No.” He waved up at me. “I figured you were going to cancel, since you take your work very seriously and sleeping with me is unethical, so I called your office, and they told me you were home sick.” I sighed into the phone and watched the grin that was permanently etched on his face. “I didn't
remember you being sick when I had you in my arms, so I decided to come see you for myself.” He lifted up a brown paper bag. “I even brought you soup.” “This isn’t a good idea.” “Why don't you let me in and we can have dinner and discuss our situation? I know there's an easy solution for this. You’re just ignoring it.” “Landon, this is my job. My reputation.” “I know, and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt it.” I shook my head and ignored his silky voice. I had to stay strong. “You don't even live here. You’ll put up some fancy hotel and then move to the next city when your work here is done.” “Well, there's your answer. One night with me, and then you can go on your merry way. We’ll fuck each other out of our systems.” He winked, and my heart picked up speed. “So just like that?” “Come on, Jules, let me in. No one knows I’m here. We can talk and then I'll leave you alone.” “Talk?” “Sure if that’s what you want to do.” It wasn’t. “Fine,” I said with the last shred of confidence I had left.
Chapter Four MY KNEES WOBBLED as I walked down the three steps to open the front door. Landon stood on the top step,
his arms cupped around the paper bag he had said was soup. “Hi.” I leaned into the door. “It’s good to see that you’re doing well.” He chuckled and leaned in, kissing my cheek which burned from both his warm touch and embarrassment that he had caught me red-handed in a lie. I shrugged. “Come on in.” I pushed the door open wider. With grace and poise, Landon strolled past me and placed the bag on the coffee table. The scent of his cologne smacked me in the face. My heart pounded. I wanted this. My body was craving his. One night. After this we could go on with our lives like nothing had ever happened. He walked straight into my living room and placed the bag on the console table. Before the door slammed shut, he’d pulled my body forward, making me fall right into his arms. Unable to control myself, I went willingly and all too needy. His hungry mouth covered mine, and his hands coiled in my hair. I should have changed before opening the door. I should have cared how I looked at that moment. But as his lips were on mine, and his hands were on my body, nothing else mattered. My hands stalked up his chest. Wrapping them around his neck, I deepened our kiss. His tongue swayed with mine while the oxygen escaped our lungs. Needing air, I pulled away from him. “If you keep kissing me like that, there won’t be any talking,” I muttered. “We can talk later.” He bit down on my lower lip. “Which way to your bedroom?” My eyes widened. It was now or never. The line had to be crossed. “That way.” I cocked my head back. A grin grew on Landon’s face, and before I had a millisecond to think, his mouth was on mine again. Never pulling away from my lips, he led us back to my bedroom. Without grace, we bumped into the back of the couch along the way but never did the passion between us falter. Landon slid off his blazer off and tossed it blindly behind him. As we approached my room, my fingers unbuttoned his shirt frantically. We were both hungry. Both desperate. Both pent up with urge.
He tugged me toward him, only stopping when the back of his legs hit the bed. Separating our conjoined lips, he rested both hands on my face, looking deep into my eyes. “Once will never be enough. I want you all night, all day, all year.” He yanked my shirt off, his hands quickly finding my breasts. Cupping them, he kissed the hollow of my neck as I tried to unbutton his pants. Gently, I stroked his bulging erection. Landon kissed my lips, the corner of my mouth, my cheek, then worked his way to my ear, nipping on my lobe before kissing down my jaw to my throat. Sliding down my body, he kissed my shoulder and chest before he dropped to his knees. Hissing, I filled my air with lungs. I kicked my slippers off, and his hands slid my leggings down leaving my lace thong. His eyes shined up at me with hunger and I ran my hands through his shaggy hair. Landon grabbed my hands, kissing them before standing. I watched as he undressed revealing to me his perfect, taut, naked body. I began to chew my lower lip as I waited impatiently for his touch. “Turn around,” he ordered. Breathlessly, I followed his instruction. Landon gently unclasped my bra, and I watched it fall to the ground. He pressed his body against mine and bit down on my shoulder as his fingers pinched my nipples. “You are everything I ever wanted,” he whispered. Landon’s hand trailed down my body, his fingers sliding inside my thong. I whimpered at his touch. Gently, he teased me, his fingers circling my swollen nub. “Please,” I moaned. “I want to make sure you want this as much as I do.” He slid my panties down. “Get on the bed.” Never had a man been so in control of my body. Desperate for him, I crawled on top of the bed, moisture pooling in my core. I waited with anticipation as he tore open the condom wrapper. The anticipation was killing me. Landon positioned his tip at my opening, and I gripped the comforter on my bed. His pace was slow at first. Tantalizing. Mesmerizing. His fingers dug into my skin as he began to drive deep and hard into me. Each thrust brought me closer to a climax. “You feel fucking perfect.” He leaned down and kissed my back. I moaned in pure ecstasy. My release was approaching. Months without a real man’s touch made it all too consuming. The sweat began to slide down my back. His grunts grew louder, and I knew he was almost there. We were almost there. “Fuck …” he groaned, and it only fed my arousal. I arched my back, resting my head and chest on the mattress. I was close. Oh, so close. My toes began to curl as the familiar tingles crawled over my skin. Loud, untamed gasps were all that could be heard. Landon grunted, thrusting deeper, harder, and faster. “Oh, fuck!”
My body shook with my release, and variations of his name left my mouth as I came apart beneath him. Driving deeper inside of me, he found his own release. My body was lifeless under his. My heart was hammering. My eyes were closed. I was numb with bliss. It was then that I realized there was no way I could ever get enough of him. He was right. One night wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted all of him.
Chapter Five WE DIDN’T MOVE out of my bed for the next six hours. There was no need for food when the only thing we
were hungry for was each other. When my limbs were completely exasperated, I let Landon hold me in bed, are legs entwined, his arms enveloping me in a tight embrace. Gently, he ran the tips of his fingers up my back. “How long have you lived here?” he asked. “Hmm,” I moaned, fully sated by him. “In Seattle or this apartment?” “Seattle.” “My whole life.” He sighed and kissed the top of my head, rubbing his hand up my bare back. When another few minutes passed, he looked up toward my closet door. “Is that your dress for the party?” I cringed, wishing that we could stay in this bubble a bit longer. “Yes.” I cleared my throat and curled my body into his. “Can you put it on for me?” “Really?” Landon looked back at me and kissed my lips. I guessed the reality that we couldn’t continue this was lingering over him as well. “Yes, please.” I sighed and pushed off the bed. Walking over to the navy blue chiffon dress, I slipped it from the hanger and slid it down my body. It was a stunning dress altered to my body for this occasion. It was fitted at the top, hugging my breasts and ribs before slowly opening to a drop waist skirt. “That’s what you’re wearing?” Landon asked. “Yeah.” I smiled and lifted up on my toes. “With nude heels, of course, and I plan on wearing my hair back.” I entwined my fingers through my hair, pulling it away from my face. Landon sighed heavily. “Can you do me one more favor?” I nodded. “Can you grab my cell out of my pants’ pocket? I need to make a quick call.” His eyebrows were furrowed. “Sure,” I said hesitantly. “Are you bringing a date to this event?” he asked when I handed him his phone. “No.” “Perfect.” He held the phone up to his ear. His eyes appeared determined, like he was on a mission. Something told me there was more to this than he was letting on. On the other end of the line, I heard the greeting from the receptionist. “Hi, Nicole, can you patch me through to Walter, please?” He paused. “No, I don’t care that he’s in a meeting. I want to talk to him right away.”
Confused, I sat on the edge of the bed. He grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it. “Hey, Walter, it’s me. I quit the Seattle project.” My heart sank. My eyes widened. "What are you doing?" I whispered franticly. A grin grew on Landon's face, and he held up a hand for me to wait. "No, of course I'll go to the party. I actually have a gorgeous date, who will be wearing the most beautiful blue dress. I must admit I'm going to do everything in my power to have sex with her in my old office during the party." He chuckled, and I gasped. "What the hell are you doing?" "Okay, I'll catch you later." Landon tossed the phone on the bed. "What the hell is your problem?" I ran my hands through my hair. "You just quit your job. Are you insane?" "For you, yes." "This is a joke, right? You told Walter about us, and he's in on the joke?" Landon's face grew serious, and he pulled me toward him. His hands framed my face as he gently kissed my lips. "It's simple, Jules. I want to see where this thing with us goes. I have a feeling that you’re it for me. I don't need to work, and Walter doesn't need me as a partner. He started these hotel chains as a reason to get out from under his father. I was simply along for the ride." “What will you do for work?" "Luckily for me, my grandfather left me with millions when he passed." "But you don't live in Seattle." I shook my head, not understand his decisions. "I don't live anywhere.” Landon shrugged. “No one has ever given me a reason to stay anywhere." He brought his lips to mine. "Until now." "This is insane,” I whispered between our conjoined lips. "Tequila?" His eyes scanned my eyes for reassurance. I stood and unzipped my dress. Letting it pool at my feet, I climbed on top of his naked body. “Tequila," I said and captured his mouth. I didn’t know where the road was going to lead us but in that moment, I decided to throw caution to the wind. Landon was all I needed.
About Callie Anderson CALLIE ANDERSON is a wife, mother and writer, who embraces the truth, then weaves it into a magical tale
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All Wrong
by Callie Harper
ON TUESDAY MORNINGS Sarah opened up the coffee shop at four thirty a.m., before the sun even thought
about rising. It was cold that morning, February 14th, and she shivered and fumbled with the keys in her gloved hands. As cold and dark as it was, she loved being the first one inside, getting to flick on the warm lights and start the magic of the day. It wasn’t her shop; it belonged to her cousin, but she’d been working there for about a year and it had come to feel like a bit of home. They were the only year-round independent coffee shop on Naugatuck Island. Starbucks stayed open, of course, but it was a point of pride for Cuppa Joe that they made it through the wilds of New England winters, no tourists, no crowds, but still steadily supplying coffee. Deciding on a 70s funk playlist, she busied herself with the ritual and routine of starting the day. Humming and swaying as she worked, the next time she looked at the clock it was already five minutes before five o’clock: opening time. Just like that, her hands started shaking, butterflies fluttering in her stomach with anticipation. He usually stopped by first thing on Tuesdays. She looked forward to it all week. Sometimes it was just the two of them in the shop. He always ordered the same thing, a mocha latte with whip, and she always made it with care, taking time to get it exactly the way he liked it with a few shaken flakes of chocolate on top. He’d talk with her as she made it, or at least talk to her. She’d smile and sometimes respond, but it was hard when her heart was beating so fast and she half worried that if she opened her mouth what would come out wouldn’t be some cool, witty banter but a heartfelt, yelped, “I love you!” His name was Tim and she loved him. She’d loved him for a year now, ever since she’d moved to the island to start working for her cousin. She didn’t normally go in for that kind of craziness. She was 25, not 15, and she had a good head on her shoulders. But with Tim it had happened just like in the movies. She’d been in the middle of a whole lot of hubbub, people talking and laughing and music playing in the middle of a bustling Saturday afternoon. Then he’d walked in, about six feet tall with auburn hair and blue eyes, and it was all over. At first it was his shoulders. Much could be said on the subject. Broad, of course, defined and powerful, they made her want to sink into them and possibly scratch or bite if the mood struck. He had the solid look of a man who could sweep her up off her feet, and while he was carrying her away she wouldn’t even ask where because anywhere she ended up would be just fine. But then it became more. He waved at babies and they smiled back like they knew he was good. He complimented little girls on their rain boots. And he didn't just stop to say hello to the elderly regulars, the year-rounders hearty and stubborn enough to insist on roughing it through the winter. He knew their names and asked after their pets and they all seemed grateful to him for something or other he'd done. It had come as no surprise when Sarah had found out that he was a firefighter. He seemed like a hero from head to toe. It was almost too much. Which was why when it was busy Sarah had a strict policy of hiding out when he came into the shop. It didn’t make sense to feel that far gone over someone she didn’t even know. She
couldn’t trust herself. Better to let the massive crush die down, which it inevitably would, and then she could pursue other more rational dating options. With Tim occupying her fantasies, no other guy stood a chance. Because that man brought out the nastiest, most intense fantasies she’d ever had. Sarah was a good girl. She called and spoke to her mom every Sunday and frequently read Jane Austen before bed. She liked kids and puppies and did a lot of baking around the holidays for friends and neighbors. The sex she’d had with boyfriends, all kind, earnest and studious young gentleman, had been mostly missionary, maxing out at a heat level somewhere near four out of ten. Not abysmal, yet nothing she’d masturbate about. But Tim? She touched herself and fantasized about him every night, imagining how he might pin her against a wall in the back of the shop and force her to come even though people might hear. Or how good he’d taste if she dropped to her knees and took his cock into her mouth. Or how hard she’d come if he bent her down over a countertop and fucked her from behind. She got wet just seeing him walk into the shop. Simply being near him turned her on more than actually having another man go down on her. One day it had been really crowded and she’d had to come around to the end of the counter to hand him his mocha. He’d leaned down and said close and low to her ear in his deep voice, “Thank you, Sarah.” Their hands had touched as he’d taken the drink. He’d smelled like pine and musk and she’d literally had to grip the counter and close her eyes for a moment so she didn’t keel over in a swoon. At five a.m. sharp she unlocked the door and flipped over the sign from closed to open. No sign of Tim yet. He’d started coming early on Tuesdays in January. That made this the sixth Tuesday they’d have a few minutes together, just the two of them. If he came, that was. She knew she shouldn’t count on it. The bell over the door jingled. Sarah took a full breath, busily wiping the immaculate counter. It could be anyone. Some of the elderly island residents woke up so early she wondered if they ever slept at all. It could be Mr. Wallings, who’d spend a full forty-five minutes telling her about weather, on the island and off. “Aren’t you a pretty sight to wake up to this morning?” Tim’s voice rolled out with a hint of sleepy, intimate scratchiness. She couldn’t help a huge smile from spreading across her face. “Morning,” she murmured to his collarbone, not meeting his eyes. He wore a fisherman’s sweater underneath his jacket and an old, worn baseball cap. “How are you this Valentine’s Day?” he asked. “Any special plans tonight?” She felt a blush bloom hot, rosy and full across her cheeks. Damn her Irish heritage, there was no way to hide any of her emotions. She wore them bright and clear across her pale skin. Her quickness to blush always made her more embarrassed, which made her blush even deeper. Together with her reddish hair she felt like a ripe tomato. “No,” she whispered, wishing she had some ice water or a fan. Maybe she could duck outside into the
February morning for a few minutes to cool off, but that might seem strange to leave him alone in the store. “No one special taking you out? Making you his valentine?” Wow, he was talking to her a lot that morning. And personal, too. Usually he chatted amiably about their town and general goings-on, maybe asked after her cousin. He’d asked her a few times about muffins she’d baked. Some mornings she brought in something of her own just for fun. “Um, nope. A friend is having a party and I might head to it, or I might just stay in and watch a movie…” She trailed off, realizing that probably revealed more of her inner geek than she’d intended. Who turned down a party in favor of a sappy movie about the kind of romance lacking in real life? She should be out there with a low-cut top workin’ it, makin’ the magic happen, not sipping tea curled up under an afghan sighing wistful sighs. And picturing Tim with his twinkling blue eyes and broad shoulders in place of whatever leading man happened to be on the screen. “Which party?” Tim asked. “Oh, a friend of my cousin’s. Actually a friend of a friend’s…” She tried to recall the name. “Harry? Henry?” “Henry McDonald?” “Yeah, that sounds right.” “I know him. I was thinking of heading to that party, too.” She looked up, her heart suddenly pounding fast and hard. “Really?” It wasn’t that strange. They were both around the same age on an island of a few thousand people. And it wasn’t as if he was asking her to go to the party with him. But still, now there was the very real possibility of seeing Tim that night. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll see you there.” He gave her a wink. And what did she do? Did she take the opening and run with it, giving him a flirtatious smile and saying something encouraging like “I hope so.” Nope, that would have been the right thing to do, but with Tim she always seemed to get it all wrong. “Do you want your usual mocha?” she asked quick and fast, as if trying to change the subject. “Uh, sure.” He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down while she got to work. Head pounding, breathing fast, she made that mocha like a pro, whipped topping applied and chocolate flakes sprinkled on top just how he liked it. “Here you go!” she announced brightly, carrying the drink over to him. “So, what do you think, are you going to head to that party?” He had one hand at the back of his neck and he looked down at her with the sexiest half smile on his lips. “I’m not sure.” She brought her hands to her chest to calm her fluttering heart. Only she didn’t have free hands, did she? She was holding a steaming hot mocha, and she managed to dump it all right down the front of her shirt. As she screamed, Tim vaulted over the countertop like an Olympic track star. He grabbed the bottom of her shirt in his hands.
“We have to get this off of you!” he yelled as he yanked her top right up and over her head. “Wait, what—?” Shocked and shaking, Sarah had no idea what was happening. Had she just scalded herself with coffee? And was she now standing there with her top off in front of Tim, just the two of them in the coffee shop? She was aware, thank God, that she’d put on a new bra that morning, in a pretty shade of violet with some lace around the edges. Because even in the midst of a possible burn, it did occur to her that she was standing there half naked with the man of her dreams. “How hot do you heat the coffee?” he asked, over at the sink with some napkins. “I don’t know.” She didn’t feel too much pain, but it could be a delayed reaction. Tim brought over some wet napkins and started applying them to her skin. Her breasts, to be specific. Covering them with cool water, droplets ran down her mounds as he dabbed along every inch. “I think…” His hand started moving more slowly, a newly drenched napkin dripping water all over her exposed breasts, soaking the silk of her bra. He cleared his throat, more massaging now than patting. “I don’t think…” Shaking, she looked down and saw that her nipples were standing straight out, pushing against the thin fabric just a few inches away from Tim’s large hand. The hand that had stopped dabbing with the napkin altogether and instead caressed, a thumb stroking her softly, slowly and very much not where she’d spilled any coffee at all. As if suddenly realizing what he’d started doing, he declared “Sorry!” and took his hand off. But he didn’t get far. As he started to move away, Sarah leaned in with all the yearning she’d been feeling for the past year, pressing herself against him, twining her hands up and around his broad, strong shoulders. It didn’t take him half a second to reverse direction, releasing the breaks he’d tried to put on himself. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her closer, tipping her head back and bringing his lips down to meet hers. They moaned into each other’s mouths as they kissed, bumping back into the counter from Sarah’s momentum. She clawed at him, digging under his coat, fighting through his sweater to feel his chest as she tried to draw him even closer. “Sarah,” he exhaled, dipping his mouth down to her throat. Straddling his large, muscular thigh, she wound her fingers up into his hair, knocking off his baseball cap as she leaned up to devour his neck, his cheek, his ear. Every inch of him tasted so intensely delicious, so much better than anything she’d ever imagined and she really had put in her time imagining. “Good morn— Holy Shit!” A loud female voice rang out from the entrance of the shop, quite clearly her cousin Regina. Somehow they had both missed the sound of the tinkling bell signaling the door opening. Must have been all the panting. “Oh! Right!” Tim swiftly turned the tables, or the bodies in this case, swiveling Sarah’s half-naked body behind his own. Chivalrous to a T, he shielded her body behind his much larger frame. Well, chivalrous except for the part where he forgot about tending to her burn in favor of making out. “OK, damn.” Sarah could hear Regina trying not to laugh. “I think I forgot something in my car.” This
time she heard the bell tinkle with the door opening, then closing again. “Wow, I’m sorry…” Tim fumbled around, one hand up in his hair rumpling it even further, the other picking up her stained T-shirt. “Are you OK?” Sarah brought her hand to her chest, flushed pink equally from the coffee and deep mortification. “Ah, yeah. I think so.” She struggled back into her wet T-shirt, no longer hot but gross and clingy and hard to get back on properly. It only went three quarters of the way down, leaving a large swatch of her stomach exposed which drew Tim’s attention like a magnet. He licked his lips and moved to help her pull the shirt down, then pulled his hand back as if thinking better of it. “Do you…need medical attention?” he asked. “Um…” Sarah tried to think. She was shaking all over, felt hot and cold at the same time and like she might possibly pass out. But she didn’t think it was because of the spilled coffee. “I think I’m all right.” “I didn’t mean to…that is, I’m sorry—” “No, it’s fine. It’s… I’m fine.” She tried to take a step farther away from him but it didn’t seem possible at the moment. The magnetic draw she felt toward him, to be in his arms again, was too strong. “Clothes on again, I see?” Regina asked loudly as she re-entered the shop. That did it. Sarah took a step away, a big step, knocking a napkin holder off the counter and clattering a canister of plastic spoons to the floor. Both kneeling to pick up the mess, Tim looked at Sarah. “So, you’re OK?” Other than wanting to sink forever into a hidey-hole of embarrassment, Sarah nodded. “Yes. I’m not burned, I don’t think.” “I didn’t mean to take your top off. I mean, I meant to take it off but I didn’t mean to…you know…” “No, it’s OK, I’m… It’s fine.” “OK, then.” Tim stood up, straightened out his jacket, pulled on his baseball cap and nodded as if coming to terms with what had just happened. Then he left the building. “Was that Firefighter Tim?” Regina asked, at Sarah’s side, exploding with curiosity. “Um, yup.” “And was your top off while you two sucked at each other like fish gasping for oxygen?” “I’m not exactly sure what just happened.” Sarah hid behind a coffeepot with a dishrag, wiping nonexistent stains. “Spill.” Regina wasn’t having it. She followed Sarah as she retreated into the back of the shop. “I already did that.” Sarah gestured to the front of the store. “All down my shirt.” “Oh, so it had to come off.” “And then I lunged at him like a starving hyena.” “No fucking way.” “Yes fucking way.” Regina clapped her hands and laughed, then gave Sarah a little shove. “I didn’t know you had it in
you!” “Well, apparently I do.” Sarah sank her head into her hands. She’d always known she’d lose it around Tim if given the chance. And then, given it, boy had she taken it. Fuck. Now she’d never be able to look at him in the eye ever again, and she’d barely been able to before that anyway. “He said he’s going to Henry’s party tonight.” “Now you’re talking!” “I don’t think I’m going to go.” “Shut the fuck up.” “Regina…” Sarah started, but finished before she even really began. She knew when she was beat. Regina was going to badger her into heading to that party. Now that she knew Tim would be there, there was no stopping her. And, sure enough, 14 hours later, Sarah found herself standing in front of a full-length mirror in her apartment wearing a tight red dress she never would have chosen for herself, paired with kinky red boots she’d never even seen Regina wear before. But she’d shown up at Sarah’s apartment a half an hour ago with the outfit in hand and insisted Sarah dress in it. “I didn’t know you even owned these!” She turned this way and that, checking out the four inch heels and laces that wound their way up the back of the boots. “Then you made the mistake of thinking you knew everything about me.” Regina laughed and started tugging Sarah’s hand toward the door, sensing correctly that she was about to start second-guessing the choice of outfit. “You don’t think it’s too much?’ Sarah asked as they grabbed coats and headed out the door. “It’s too much in exactly the right way. Honey, trust me. I saw the way the two of you were pawing each other this morning. There’s only one way this night is going to end. Because, frankly, I’m tired of mopping up the trail of drool you leave every time he comes into the shop.” “I do not drool,” Sarah protested weakly. “But you do get wet.” Regina elbowed her as they headed to her car, and Sarah didn’t even try to deny it. The party was only a short drive away. Everything was a short drive on Naugatuck during off season, at least when there wasn’t a massive snow or ice storm. That particular night was cold but clear. Regina blasted some dance tunes as she drove and Sarah sang along, feeling her excitement build as they drew closer. True, she had pounced on Tim like a lioness with a fresh kill, but he hadn’t exactly run away, had he? Maybe there was something between them? Maybe tonight she’d find out? The house was full of people and everyone knew Regina. Her boyfriend Ed was there and ushered them into the kitchen to get cold beer in plastic cups. No cutsie Valentine’s Day decorations, and the only food a huge vat of cheese doodles in the middle of the kitchen table—this was a clearly a guy’s party. Perched nervously next to the vat, Sarah munched absentmindedly while some guy she didn’t know talked
to her about something she couldn’t pay attention to while she tried hard not to peer over his shoulder to see if she could see Tim. Then Tim walked in, looking straight at her. He gave her a warm smile, headed right over and started leaning in. She felt herself swooning, her eyelids fluttering down in anticipation of his searing kiss. “You’ve got…” Tim gestured to his chin, making a motion to wipe it clean. “Something…” “Oh, really?” Sarah rocked back on her heels, realizing he wasn’t trying to kiss her. He was trying to tell her she needed to mop her messy face. “Cheese doodles? Really?” Regina’s voice rang out as she swooped down on Sarah with a napkin, wiping her chin clean. “That’s what you do first thing when you get to a party?” “I like cheese doodles,” Sarah mumbled, wondering how silly she had looked with a nice, bright orange beard. But, honestly, was she really expected to stand next to a bowl of salty, crunchy cheesiness and not indulge? “Tim! There you are!” Liam, another handsome devil of a firefighter Sarah had noticed—she’d be dead not to—came up alongside her man. “There’s something you have to come check out.” “Oh, really?” Tim looked reluctant, but Liam had him in a bit of a headlock. Ed walked to the doorway and hollered, “Right this way.” Liam led him out of the kitchen and Sarah watched him go, forlorn as a 1700s whaler’s wife watching her husband’s ship leave the harbor. “Don’t look so glum, chum.” Regina locked her arm through Sarah’s, then brought her underneath a kitchen light. “Smile for me.” “What?” Confused but obedient, Sarah smiled wide under the spotlight. “OK,” Regina nodded, satisfied no large pieces of cheese doodle were lodged in Sarah’s teeth. “Now drink this.” She handed her a shot. Sarah glanced at it, unsure. “I don’t think—” “If you so much as try to think tonight,” Regina threatened, “so help me God—” “OK!” Sarah downed it, the vodka burning its way down her throat and heating her chest, cheeks and whole body right up. “Now come with me. There’s something you have to see.” Regina tugged her in much the same manner Tim had been tugged in exactly the same direction out of the kitchen, down a hallway and into a bedroom. “There’s an amazing walk-in closet you’ve got to check out.” After that, it was a mere hip bump and a shove, and for the second time in one day, Sarah found herself chest-to-chest with none other than Firefighter Tim. “Hey! What are you doing in here?” she asked, hands up to steady herself. And, of course, cop a feel of his wall-o-muscle chest. “They told me there was a kitten trapped up inside the closet that I needed to rescue,” Tim explained. “Have fun you two!” a few voices called out, laughing and whistling as they plunked down something heavy on the other side of the door.
“Oh my God they’ve trapped us in here!” Sarah’s eyes widened as she realized it was just the two of them in the closet, the only light coming from a dim bulb overhead. “They have.” Tim nodded in confirmation, though he did not move to change their circumstance. Instead, he kept his hands wrapped nicely around her waist. But he did apologize. “I hope you know I did not arrange this.” “No, I wouldn’t think—” It was difficult to think, anyway, with her hands up now on his shoulders. He only wore a T-shirt, thin at that. Damn the man was fine. “I was going to see if I could talk to you tonight,” Tim continued. “Get to know you. I wasn’t even going to try to kiss you so I could make up for this morning and show you I’m a gentleman.” “Oh.” She definitely sounded disappointed. “I was going to ask you on a date. I’ve been wanting to for months.” “You have?” What the fuck? But she just thought that. Out loud she managed to ask, “Why didn’t you?” “I thought you didn’t like me,” he admitted. “You avoid me every time I come into the shop. You never look me in the eyes.” “Oh, that.” Right now she wasn’t looking into his eyes, either. She was studying the pectoral definition in his chest. Muscles like that should be illegal, like a weapon men were only allowed to wield on special occasions. Though she did guess this was Valentine’s Day. Seemed like the right holiday to drive a woman completely wild. “I wanted everything to be perfect if I got to take you out.” Tim reached out and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I was going to bring you roses.” “I like roses,” she whispered, starting to tremble slightly because he was caressing her cheek and they were alone in a closet. “I was going to get us a table by the window at Il Fortuna.” “I like Il Fortuna.” Such conversation skills. But, given the circumstances, she was proud she’d managed that much. “But instead we got trapped in a closet.” He shook his head, disappointed in himself. “It’s all wrong.” “Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be?” She took a small step closer. “No?” His voice grew huskier. “Do you think the night can be saved?” “Maybe.” Now she did look up into his eyes and gave him a shy smile. And he bent right down at the invitation, capturing her mouth in kisses that started off soft and slow. But they didn’t stay that way for long. He felt so hot and right, the blend of his soft lips and rough stubble, the sheer size and bulk of him. No, she’d been fantasizing about him too long for soft and slow. She pulled his T-shirt up and off, stripping him bare before he knew what was happening, then raked her fingers down his abs. The only thought she had was, how’s that for not thinking too much, Regina? “This dress.” Tim sank his mouth to her throat. “You’re so beautiful.” He licked and sucked her exposed flesh, making his way down to her cleavage where his lips felt so good and his tongue even
better. He backed her up a few steps until she was up against the wall. She moaned as he leaned in, his strong thigh pressed between her legs. His hands cupped her ass as he pulled her more firmly against him. “Tim,” she murmured, her hands all over his broad chest, his shoulders, his biceps. It was difficult to choose when it all felt so hot. And his hand, she thought she might go insane as it started working its way up her inner thigh. He moved slowly, a gentle caress, but then broke off from kissing her. “Sarah.” Resting his forehead against hers, panting, he stilled his hand. “I don’t mean to go too fast.” “Not too fast.” She parted her legs just enough. He groaned and leaned down again, kissing her as his fingers traveled up to lightly graze along the silk of her panties. He slid his fingers right where she’d grown so slick he could feel it through the silk. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he murmured. “It’s kind of the affect you have on me,” she found herself confessing. After all it was just the two of them in a shadowy closet. “It is?” His voice darkened somewhat, his fingers growing more sure as he stroked. “Yes,” she whispered. “Do you think about me, Sarah?” He slid his fingers back and forth, still on the outside of her panties but the friction felt so tantalizing. “Yes,” she admitted. “I think about you.” He kissed her throat and she tilted her head back, hitting it against the wall as he licked her sensitive skin. He pressed a little on her clit with his thumb as he asked, “You want to know what I think about?” She bit her lip, trying not to moan too loudly as she answered, “Yes.” “I think about making you come.” “Oh.” It came out more as a sigh of longing than a statement. “What do you think, Sarah?” With one hand he teased her nipple, stiff and aching through her dress. With the other he ran his finger along the lace edge of her panties, playing with the waistband. “Can I do that?” Yes,” she groaned, and finally with one swift pull he sent those panties right where they belonged, discarded on the floor. He drew his hand up, breathing into her as he began to touch her so slowly, so reverently, she felt like she might explode. “Wait, I…” Shaking and overwhelmed, she reached down and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “Too much?” he asked, breathing heavy and staying absolutely still. “I’m worried…” She didn’t know how to say the jumble of everything in her head, how this wasn’t what she usually did, how she’d actually never gone so fast and wanted someone so badly. So she just said, “I’m nervous.” “I’ve got you, Sarah,” he reassured her, kissing her so sure and right she absolutely felt the truth of his words. “Let me make you feel good. You don’t have to worry about anything with me.”
“Are you sure?” Her damn nerves still did the talking. “This feels so crazy. I mean, I’ve been thinking about you round and round in my head and fantasizing about you for months. I even had a fantasy that we’d get locked in a closet and you’d pin my wrists up over my head—” Wait, had she just said that out loud? “Really?” he voice deepened. “Then what you should do is stop thinking so much and let this happen.” Slowly, he reached down, grasped one of her wrists and brought it over her head. “As long as you want this, let me take control.” He found her other hand and drew it up. Then he wrapped his large hand, his fingers rough and strong from work, around both her wrists and held them fast against the wall. Her head spun and she felt like she could barely breathe, her fantasy now mixed into a reality that felt even better than anything she’d ever imagined. “Just relax,” he murmured, starting to move his finger again, slowly against her slick pussy. “And let it feel good.” She closed her eyes, letting herself go to the rhythm. He read her body so intimately, sensing exactly where she was most sensitive, where she was quivering and aching. Then he’d tease, coaxing more arousal from her until she was shaking and twisting under his firm grasp. “You want to come, don’t you?” he asked, low and in control. “Yes,” she panted. “You need me to make you come, don’t you?” “Yes,” she sighed, giving in to the sensations engulfing her. She didn’t know what was happening, but she felt helpless under the power of it. He slid his fingers to her clit, finally giving it the direct pressure she craved, pulsing, stroking, driving her right to the brink. But then he took his fingers away. Sarah whimpered in frustration. “Sarah, I want you to do something for me,” he said in the darkness, his voice all she could hear. “Yes, Tim.” “Beg me to make you come.” “Tim,” she moaned as he brought his fingers back to her sex, fucking her with two fingers, demanding and forceful. “Beg me,” he commanded. “Beg me and I’ll let you come.” “Tim.” She twisted against the restraint of his hand, feeling so dominated and so cared for at the same time. “Tim, please. Please I want to come.” “You want to come?” he grit out, his fingers moving over to her swollen, throbbing clit. “Do you need to come?” “Yes, please, I need to, Tim, please.” She was done with shyness, with worrying whether she sounded crazy, or trying to play it cool. She needed to come desperately and only he could make her do it. “That’s a good girl,” he praised her and his words took her even closer. “Now beg me.” “Please, please, I’m begging you.” “Yes,” he hissed in satisfied victory as he sank his fingers up deep inside her pussy. “Now come for
me.” Her eyes rolled back in her head, mouth open as she felt the tidal wave break within her, unfurling such release, a staggering rush of pleasure and reward. She felt like she might black out but then his arm wrapped around the small of her back, supporting her weight as his fingers coaxed still more pleasure from her. “That’s it,” he murmured, holding her fast. “Come just like that.” “Tim,” she sobbed softly, cresting another wave of her orgasm, sinking completely into pure pleasure. “I got you,” he murmured, releasing her wrists, supporting her weight with his hand, kissing her forehead. “You’re so beautiful, Sarah. I’ve wanted to do that for so long now.” “”Oh, I…” Sarah couldn’t even find words. She felt like molten liquid but weightless at the same time. “How are you? OK?” he asked with concern, kissing her cheek, tilting her face to kiss her mouth. “Yes,” she assured him. She’d never been better. “Thank you,” he said, caressing her hair. “I think I should be thanking you,” she murmured. “Do you want me to bust us out of this closet?” he asked, solicitous of her well-being. She felt so safe and warm and right in his arms. Leaving the closet was the last thing she wanted. “Well, the thing is…” Se wound her hands up to his hair, running them through it. She kissed his neck, licking him, until he tilted his head down to kiss her lips and they lost themselves in each other again. “The thing is,” she repeated, overcoming her shyness to whisper in his ear, “I’m so wet.” He groaned, his hands wrapped around her waist. She slid her hand to his jeans, slowly moving it along until she found what she was looking for, what she’d fantasized about so many nights. Palming his length, she added, “And you’re so hard. I feel like it would be a shame to leave this closet without taking full advantage.” “Are you sure?” he breathed, sounding like he couldn’t believe his luck. “I mean”—she hesitated—“it’s not like I do this all the time. Or, like ever, just randomly hooking up in a closet—” “I hope this isn’t just a random thing with you.” She leaned up and kissed him her response, full and sure and ready. “I have a condom.” He reached around to his back pocket. “I never thought I’d get to use it with you tonight, but you never know.” “You never know,” she agreed, smiling wickedly in the darkness, enjoying this new side of herself as she unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped his fly. “You seemed so shy,” he marveled. “Who said I’m not?” she replied, adding, “Most of the time,” as she moved her hand down to grip his shaft. He felt so huge; she’d never been with anyone anywhere near his size. Then again, no one had ever made her anywhere near as wet. That might make all the difference. He got a condom on in no time flat and then kissed her again against the wall. “Tell me if it’s too
much,” he said, breathing heavy in the darkness. “I don’t want to hurt you.” “It’s OK if it hurts a little bit,” she admitted. She didn’t know where the thought was coming from, but she almost wanted it to hurt a little, right before the pleasure rushed in after it. He positioned himself at her entrance, pausing for a few seconds until she brought her hands to his ass and murmured, “Tim.” He sank up into her, not fully but stretching her so much it burned. Her eyes widened and tears formed. He stopped, feeling her tense and stiffen in his arms. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “I want more.” She willed herself to relax so she could take him in all the way. With a groan, he sank himself farther in, rocking his length into her wet heat. She sucked in her breath and clutched at his shoulders, digging her fingernails into his bare skin. She was going to leave a mark. “Wrap your legs around me,” he grit out and she did as she was told, folding her legs around his hips so she could take him in at just the right angle. He cupped her ass and began to thrust, working his way in deep, then deeper. “You feel so good,” he whispered. “So tight.” “Fuck me, Tim,” she begged, letting herself go again, letting herself feel nothing other than the intense pleasure of his cock, his heat, his body rocking again and again into hers. “You’re taking all of me.” He ground into her, stretching her, stuffing her so full. “Yes,” she sighed, opening her thighs as wide as she could. He started a faster rhythm, pounding her against the wall, grunting as he fucked her hard. She moaned and surrendered to the pounding, feeling the pleasure build with every thrust. “You like that?” he asked, working her hard, starting to sweat. “Yes,” she groaned, clawing at him, wanting it even rougher. “You like it hard?” he asked, bringing one hand to her inner thigh, pressing her even farther open, stretching her to the point of pain. “You like it when I fuck you hard?” “Yes, please,” she begged, liking how he slammed her against the wall, crying out when he dipped his mouth to her throat and bit her sensitive skin. He reached up to the top of her dress and pulled it to the side, exposing her breast. “This is what I wanted to do to you this morning.” He pinched her nipple, and the tweak of pain shot straight down into her clit. She opened her mouth, shocked at the sensation, pain morphing into a kind of white-hot pleasure she’d never felt before. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, thrusting, pounding as he twisted her sensitive nipple again. “Yes!” she cried out, nearly sobbing, so shocked and even confused but desperate for more, needing to chase the feeling as far as it would go. “You’re going to come again for me, Sarah, aren’t you?” “Yes.” She could feel it build. She knew he was right, and she’d do it for him. “You’re going to wait until I tell you to come,” he demanded, somehow still in control even as he fucked her hard like an animal.
“”Yes,” Sarah moaned, now wishing more than anything he’d let her come. If only she could come. She’d come so good for him, so hard. “You’re going to come when I twist your nipple, do you understand me?” he commanded. “Yes,” she sobbed, waiting, needing. Then, as he thrust, his fingers pinched her stiff nipple hard, merciless. She let out a cry as she threw her head back and came in a blisteringly hot orgasm, sobbing and crying out his name as she came on his cock. He let out a low, feral growl and thrust hard and so deep into her, letting loose at the same time, shuddering against her, sweaty and groaning. “Yes,” she kept hearing herself say, almost disembodied with pleasure, sinking and drifting, only aware of the pulses from his cock, the throbs in her clit, the smells of their bodies mingling, their breathing in the dark. “Sarah,” he murmured, low and worshipping. “Wow,” she whispered, not at all sure what had just happened, or where or even who she was. “You’re amazing.” He sank his forehead down to hers, pressing against it. “Tim,” she sighed, a light smile playing at her lips. She had to admit, it felt pretty good being bad. “I had no idea.” “Neither did I,” she admitted. “I’m not letting you go when we get out of this closet, you know,” he warned, easing out of her, helping her get her footing back. “Not tonight, not tomorrow. Hell, you’re going to have a hard time getting rid of me.” “That sounds great,” she agreed, the largest smile playing out across her face. Condom off, clothes back on, Tim held her in his arms. “Damn, woman. Where did you come from?” “I’m happy I’m here now,” she said softly, nestling her head into his chest. “I am going to treat you right,” Tim promised, kissing her head. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she grinned, tilting her head up to kiss him. “It sure the fuck is,” he agreed, kissing her back. “You ready to head out of this closet?” he asked, holding onto her hand. She knew they both had the just-fucked look bad. She was sure her hair looked like it had been pulled, her lips all swollen, her skin pink from his stubble. Hell, her eyes might still be glazed from her orgasms. But somehow she didn’t care. All the shyness, worries, self-consciousness she’d felt in so many less embarrassing situations had all drifted away. Or maybe they’d been fucked right out of her. However it had happened, she positively beamed. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Together they knocked on the door, letting their captors/friends/matchmakers know they were ready to be released. Stepping forth to hoots and hollers and congratulatory slaps on the back, neither of them had ever been happier. Best. Valentine’s Day. Ever.
THE END
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so much for reading All Wrong! I hope you enjoyed the glimpse into Tim and Sarah’s
Valentine’s Day. There’s more sexy fun waiting for you on Naugatuck Island with Tim’s friend Liam in All of Me The blaze between Liam and Sophie is almost too hot for even a firefighter to handle. For free bonus material and to stay in the know about upcoming releases and sales, sign up for my newsletter and my Facebook author’s group Callie’s Corner. And keep in touch: Facebook Instagram Goodreads
Love on a Plane
by Ilsa Madden-Mills
Chapter One
Spider
THE GATE AGENT crossed her arms. “Sir, you can’t carry-on your guitar—”
“Can you make an exception for me?” I asked, accentuating the English accent. Usually, my clipped tones got me out of sticky situations, especially with the female population, but with her I’d hit a brick wall. Her beady eyes surveyed me. “I’m sorry, but your case won’t fit in the overhead compartment.” “But I’m a musician, and this is my baby.” I stroked the case. She arched a brow. I leaned over the counter, giving her the full Spider effect. “The truth is, I’ll die if my guitar isn’t close to me.” I inhaled a sharp breath, aiming for a distressed look. “You see, this has been the worst holiday of my life, and all I want to do is get back to New York and see my father.” Lie. We could barely stand each other. She lowered the phone. “Yeah?” “My girlfriend, Bitsy, dumped me while we were here in Austin for a quick Valentine get-away.” I clenched my fists. “She completely wrecked me.” Bette blinked. “Oh—” “Yeah. She’s always had a cheating problem. Once it was my brother she slept with. Man, did that ever make Christmas and birthdays crap.” I sighed heavily. It wasn’t hard to fake feeling low. Not with a tequila hangover. “That’s terr—” “We came here to, you know, figure things out. And then she met him.” “Look, Mr.—” “Please call me Spider,” I said. Her brows shot straight up, her eyes on the black widow tat on my neck. “Er, Spider, I’m sorry about your girlfriend. She sounds awful, but—” I held my hand up. “No, please. Don’t even talk about her. It hurts...the way she played me.” I cleared my throat. “You see, she thought I’d gone out with some friends, but I forgot my wallet, and when I came back in the hotel room—that I paid for by the way—she was doing the double-backed monster with him,
the guy who worked the front desk.” She looked at me, a wrinkle on her brow. “Double ba—” “So yeah, you taking my guitar from me is the icing on the cake. It’ll kill me. I’m already depressed, so I don’t really see that it matters anyway. My life is over. I’m going back to New York and die alone. Without love or my guitar.” I dabbed at my eyes with a napkin from the bar I'd tucked in my pocket last night. I peeked at Bette, hiding the smile when I saw the uncertainty on her face. She moved from foot to foot, her eyes weighing me, perhaps checking for sincerity. “My dog died last week, too,” I said. I’d never had a pet in my life, but if that didn’t crack her, nothing would. “We do have an area back behind the seats. Maybe there’s room,” she murmured. “You have the power to do that?” I asked, adding a hint of wonder to my voice. She blushed. Two secs later she was calling up someone, checking to see if they had a place for my guitar. Sweeeet. Something hard poked me in the back. “What the—” I turned. A pair of glittering green eyes met mine, set behind a pair of horn-rimmed, black glasses with little jewels on the sides. She was clutching her bed pillow of all things. Jumbo-sized. “You’re holding up the line,” she waved at the empty space behind her, “to find room for your guitar when you should have checked it. Real nice.” The sarcastic girl appeared to be in her early twenties. Her dark brown hair had been pulled up in a bun, but was losing strands fast. With her grey skirt, white button-up shirt and string of pearls, she looked like a librarian having a shitty day. She even wore a matching cardigan. Not my cup of tea at all. I liked my girls, first of all, pretty, and she wasn’t. She wasn’t done. “Just because you’re in a band, doesn’t mean you get to act like a rock star.” Did she know me? I did a mental double check. Was it possible I’d been with her? Was she one of the half-blitzed college chicks who roamed the bar circuit of Austin. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then huffed out, “I saw you at The Dark Room this weekend. Vital Rejects?” I softened a little. The Dark Room was one of our best bars. Again, I tried to recall if we’d had a thing. Her tits were huge though. No way would I have forgotten those beauties. “Did you enjoy us?” I asked silkily. She sniffed. “No. I prefer classical music.” Ah, one of those girls. I pegged her as spending her weekends at the museum or antiquing in the
countryside. Snooze. Before I could retort, Bette hung up the phone and broke in. “You can carry-on the guitar. There’s a stewardess on board named Debbie who’ll be looking for you.” I gave my back to the girl in a way that said, You are dismissed. Cherrio. Bette scanned my ticket, and I sauntered off, my thoughts on New York where I was supposed to see my father for the first time in six months. On top of seeing him, I had to meet his new girlfriend, some woman named Penelope Farnsworth. Would she be as young as his last girlfriend? I walked down the jet-way and stopped at the entrance to the plane. Well, hello, beautiful. “Debbie?” I murmured, my lips tipping up at the curvy redhead. She returned the favor, her eyes taking in my mesh shirt and tats. I had the black widow on my neck, the dandelion on my arm, and a horned devil right between my legs, his little pitch fork pointing straight to my… “You must be the owner of the guitar,” she said, eyes on my hair. I touched it self-consciously. It was cobalt blue this month, swept back in a gelled pompadour style. Girls went nuts over it. I don’t know why. Maybe because my eclectic look seemed dangerous? I passed over the guitar, making sure our hands brush. She smiled. “I’ll stow this for you in the back.” “Thank you, love.” She giggled. “Adore your accent. You in a band?” Why are women so fascinated by musicians? Maybe it’s because deep down they want a bad-ass song written about them, even better if their name is in the title. Like Steve Perry’s “Oh, Sherrie” or Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline”. If I wrote a song with a chick’s name, it would be more like The Rolling Stones’s “Angie”, which was a ballad about the end of a relationship. I don’t write love songs, and I don’t do long-term relationships. I’ve tried but have never been able to sustain a relationship. Too much baggage in my past. I settled for one or two-nighters, sometimes a three-week fling if I was having a good month. I nodded. “Yeah. Vital Rejects. We opened for Bruno Mars at the Dallas Music Fest this weekend.” Kinda of stretching it there. Sure, we’d met Bruno, but no way had we come close to a time slot near him. He’d played the seven o’clock show, and we had two in the afternoon. Sparsely attended, but hey, we were there. “You get a break on here, love?” I ran my eyes over her curves, my intention clear. Hell, it was Valentine’s Day, and I was horny. “I can’t fraternize with the passengers,” she said, but she fluttered her lashes at me. “I may need some assistance. I tend to get bored on long flights. Any distraction is welcome.”
She laughed and flicked a strand of red hair over her shoulder. “Oh. Well, then, I’ll be sure to check on you quite often,” she said, her pouty lips curving up in a big smile. “I love getting to know the passengers. If you need a blanket or a pillow or a—” “Good grief. Please move over. You’re blocking the way,” came an annoyed voiced. The girl from the gate. She weaseled past me, acting like she didn’t have the room, when it was obvious plenty of people had gotten by before her. Maybe if she wasn’t carrying that giant pillow. I told Debbie we’d chat later and slid in a few people behind cranky girl, noticing her ass was exactly heart-shaped beneath her grey skirt. My phone pinged. It was Sebastian, checking to make sure I’d made it. We’d had a late set, and had parted ways about midnight, him with a blonde and me with a brunette. Or had it been the other way around? I shook my head. Maybe I needed to slow down with the girls. Whoever she was, it must not have been memorable. I tapped out a reply and moved toward my aisle seat in first class. But someone was already there, pulling out her kindle. I don’t think so. “You’re in my seat,” I said. She glanced up and took off her nerd glasses, which were attached by a chain. I couldn’t stop my eye roll. Good grief, she acted like she was eighty. She said, “I’m supposed to have the window seat, but I have a nervous blad—” “You can crawl over me anytime you want.” My eyes positively gleamed at the prospect even though she wasn’t up to my usual standards. And normally, I would’ve given up the aisle seat for a girl, but she’d been rude to me. Twice. She huffed and turned pink, and I got a twinge of guilt at my brusque words. I was jonsing for a cig big time. I stowed my duffle in the over-head while she snapped out and moved over to the window. Her blanket fell in the floor, and as I picked it up to hand it over to her—because I can be a gentleman if I want—I caught a gander at what was on her kindle. How to Make a Man Fall in Love with You: 10 Foolproof Rules. I coughed to cover up my laugh, sneaking a glance over at her. Why this book? I mean, granted she came across as stuffier than my Gram, but she did have a nice rack, if the strained buttons on her white shirt were anything to go by. My eyes narrowed. And wasn’t that a pop of red underneath her shirt? Why, yes it was. I grinned. Plain on the outside, but wild inside. Miss Priss liked sexy undergarments. Maybe my lucky day was right beside me the entire time. We’d be sitting or lying side-by-side for three hours. I shifted, adjusting myself at the thought of unwrapping her.
Chapter Two
Taffy
I SAT DOWN in the aisle seat and popped a Xanax, thanking the stars for Marge who’d doled it out this
morning before I left the hotel. With my fear of flying, medication was a necessary evil. Necessary because I had to get back to New York and NYU. Thank God. It had only been the worst trip ever. I should have just stayed home, holed up in my tiny apartment. Blue-haired guy from the boarding area stalked toward me, looking disgustingly hot. I mentally slapped myself. Huh. As if. His brown eyes locked with mine, making my stomach flutter. I told those butterflies to settle down. With the black skinny jeans, motorcycle boots, and grey leather jacket, he had bad boy written all over him. If he was my seat mate, I’d die. I recalled how I’d noticed him in the boarding area checking out all the pretty girls. Guys never looked at me like that. Just ask Nico, the man I’m in love with. We’d met in a sculpting class and had developed a tentative relationship. Tentative as in he was always holding back. Tall and moody—in a sexy artist kind of way— he was only interested in statuesque blondes. Complete opposite from me. I’m petite, dark-haired, and a B cup on a good day. Although with this new bra, I’d decided my boobs were definitely bigger. I pressed my arms together, liking the cleavage. Ah, the wonders of Victoria’s Secret. Blue-haired guy glowered down at me. Oops. I dropped my arms, hoping he hadn’t seen me checking out my own tits. “You’re in my seat,” he said haughtily, arching a brow, calling attention to the ring there. Silver, it glinted in the morning sun coming in through the plane window. I cleared my throat. “I’m supposed to have the window seat, but I have a nervous blad—“ He shook his head. “You can crawl over me anytime you want.” I heard a suggestive note. And didn’t that just make me tingle. I yanked on my blanket and shuffled over, giving up. Maybe if the Xanax would kick in, I could close my eyes and sleep. Blue handed me my kindle, and my already pink cheeks reddened at the realization that he might have seen what I’d downloaded. I tucked it in my purse and crossed my ankles. Playing it cool.
He settled in, buckling up, his long fingers calloused on the ends from playing guitar. Yeah, I’d seen him at the bar next to the hotel where Marge and I had spent the last week. Originally she’d been supposed to come with her roommate, but when she’d come down with a bad case of food poisoning, Marge had talked me into it last minute. I wasn’t her first choice. Never would be. Heck, she called me the Ice Queen behind my back. But, since my other option was spending the week with my mom, I’d chosen Austin with Marge. So, she’d medicated me with one of her magical pills, and we’d flown over to relax and unwind. Well, I had. Marge had flown over to stay drunk and get laid. She’d been with this lovely piece of humanity sitting next to me our first night. Spider he’d called himself. Some creepy arachnid with fangs that injected venom. Marge had danced smack dab in front of him for two hours our first night out, flashing her bra, grinding on the stage where he performed. I wished I could have said she’d had too many cocktails, but she hadn’t. She was a slut. I’d sat in the corner with my red wine and watched. Blue had the fingers of a maestro, and the lead singer’s voice had been raspy and sexy. Had his name been Sebastian? Blonde and tall, his presence had been sizzling, and their punk, hard rock sound had been good, too, although I’d never admit that to Blue. Anyway, I’d soon tired of watching Marge make a fool of herself and had checked Facebook to see what Nico was doing. According to his status, he was doing some girl from his Lit class. And that had sunk me into a depression. Why did no one ever choose me? Blue moved around, taking off his jacket and stretching out his long legs. Wiry and muscular, he was everything I went for but shouldn’t. His scent assailed me, smoke and spice, and I blinked at the shivers it sent over me, making all the hairs on my arms rise in unison. I’m not into smokers at all, but I recalled him standing outside the bar, one dangling from his lips as he leaned against the building and contemplated the people who entered The Dark Room. He’d had an air about him that reeked of danger, his heavy-lidded eyes promising a night of wild and perhaps rough sex. I stopped. Dramatic, much? I needed a grip. Oh, or maybe a drink. I eyed the flight attendants, wondering when I could order a wine. At least I had the fake ID. I know, I know. I shouldn’t be drinking while taking pills, but it’s the only thing that gets me through the flight. He took out his phone, and my eyes went back to him, remembering how Marge had ended up going for a walk with him in-between his sets. According to her, they’d found an empty construction site a block over. I didn’t ask for deets, but she’d insisted on telling me. Apparently, Spider gave her two orgasms and was hung like a horse and not an arachnid. I pitied her, really, the way she put herself out there, sleeping around with guys she barely knew. Maybe I was jealous a tiny bit. However, I wasn’t envious of how he’d dissed her afterwards. She’d talked about him for three days after their encounter, but he’d never hooked up with her again although she’d tried…hanging out at the bar
where they played, stalking him between sets. But, he’d been stealthy. I had a feeling, he’d played this game a lot longer than Marge had. “You got a name?” he asked, his voice was low and deep. “Taffy.” Not true, but I felt ornery. And I hated my stupid name. It was prissy and pretentious—heck, it even started with a P. He arched a brow. “Really?” I nodded. “Something wrong with that name, Spider?” He shrugged nonchalantly, and it looked smooth and effortless. Totally European. “I like Taffy. Especially when it gets stuck on my teeth, and I have to suck it out.” He opened his mouth, his tongue curling up and making a slurping noise against his white teeth. I pictured him wrapping those lips around my... I shook myself, putting the brakes on that thought. But still. He. Looked. Good. I blamed the Xanax. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was man candy. But he’d been with Marge. Just, no. His eyes went heavy on me, making me blink. I straightened up. Well. It was like he’d known exactly what gutter my mind had been in. Or maybe that’s his I gotta go to the bathroom look? Who knows? I can’t read men. Hence the self-help book.
Chapter Three
Spider
TAFFY—IF THAT
was her real name—was checking me out. And she liked what she saw if her soft
expression was anything to go by. Hmmm, quite a switch from earlier. But, I sometimes have that effect on people. I can come across as brash, but once I’m your friend, I’ll go to the ends of the world for you. Unless you break my heart and then I won’t do jack for you. I wanted to experiment, so I shifted closer to her. Her eyes flared wide, but she didn’t move away. So easy. “Taffy?” I said softly, resting my hand a hair’s breadth from hers. “Yes?” she breathed, and I inhaled her scent, musky and exotic, nothing like her outward appearance. And there it was. My cock got hard. “You know, if you want to learn how to make a man fall in love with you, you can practice those rules on me.” Her mouth gaped at me, closing and opening like a fish. “Whaaat?” I grinned and shrugged. “Saw your book.” With a red face, she pulled back. I fidgeted, as she blinked furiously, obviously embarrassed. Bugger. I opened my mouth to apologize, but why should I? She’d been rude to me at the gate. My eyes found Debbie, and I cocked an eye at her. She waved back, a look of promise on her face. Debbie was decidedly easier. My type. The plane took off, and by the time we got to twenty thousand feet, Taffy had had two glasses of wine, and although she still hadn’t spoken directly to me, I could tell her body had relaxed. I couldn’t help but wonder if wine made her randy like it did me. I waited fifteen more minutes to let the alcohol kick in. “About before. I’m sorry. My mouth has no filter most days. I blame it on the guys I hang out with. And if you want the aisle seat you can have it.” She smirked a tiny bit, plucking at her skirt. “Perhaps I’m too sensitive.” Yeah, and I wasn’t used to the sweet girls. “I’m sorry about being crabby before,” she said, laughing a little. “Traveling makes me crazy.”
“I’m not at my best either. Truce?” She nodded, her smile brilliant, making me do a double take. Hmmm, Miss Priss was kinda pretty. I remembered her kindle. “Maybe I should read your book. Truth be told, I was in love once, but… well…it didn’t turn out like I wanted.” I laughed like it was funny, but the pain of that affair still stung. She glanced over at me. “The book was an Amazon bestseller.” Ha. And so was “Sizzling Hot Alien Love”. “There you go. I must know the details then.” I gave her my full attention, glad we were talking again. I liked her. Maybe it was the business clothes paired with the sexy bra or maybe it was her innocence. I mean, what girl believes she can make a guy fall in love with her? Her lips curled up. “It’s really kinda silly. But, there’s this guy at school…Nico…he’s Italian and gorgeous, by the way. We’re just friends, but I want more. He says it will ruin our friendship.” Douche. Taffy being disappointed in love irked me. “If you have to try that hard, maybe you should move on. Find out who else is out there.” She shook her head. “It’s a woman’s intuition thing. I know he wants me, but for some reason, he denies it. If I could just see me, then maybe he’d come around. I mean, we hang out all the time.” Her eyes went dreamy on me. “He’s perfect with these delicious blue eyes. And he works out.” I arranged my bicep so she’d see my muscles. “So is this book working for you?” She twisted the buttons on her blouse, drawing attention to her sweet cleavage. “I haven’t tried it on him yet.” “Then practice on me. Use some of those wiles from the book. Let me be your guinea pig.” She peeked at me, her green eyes gleaming like bright emeralds. “How do you make a guy fall, Taffy?” I murmured. “Tell me the rules.” She shook her head. “I can’t. It’s too silly.” I laughed. “What’s silly is you think you aren’t pretty enough for this Nico. He’d be lucky to have you,” I said. “Be provocative.” I blinked. Oh, the rules. “Yeah?” She licked her lips and nodded. “It’s the one I’ve been working on lately.” I tugged at the collar of my shirt, feeling warm. “Do you know how to be provocative?” I doubted it. She considered me for a moment, then reached up and pulled her hair out of the bun, creating a cascade of long dark hair around her face. Thick and wavy, it curled over her shoulders into big ringlets, making me want to pick one of those strands up and run my fingers through it. “Nice,” I said, taking in the vision she became with her hair down. I liked it. A lot. Then she hooked her fingers through her string of pearls and stroked them almost absently, rubbing them delicately. I can’t deny I was a bit mesmerized by the combo of the hair and the necklace. “You been practicing?” I asked, my eyes watching her tantalize those beads, imagining them in more
erotic locations. In her mouth, on her stomach, on her… She nodded, biting her lip. “You’re very good,” I said, blood rushing to my crotch. “Really?” I nodded. “You must be a fast learner.” She blushed. “It’s right here,” she said, showing me her kindle, “if you want some tips.” I skimmed it, reading the stupidity. Be clean. Shower and wear deodorant. And while you’re at it, shave those legs, armpits, and Southern parts. No man likes hair unless he’s a Neanderthal. Dress for him. Wear sexy clothing and undergarments. Never wear sweats in front of the man you want to fall in love with you. Style your hair/ wear make-up. Cover up blemishes and flaws. Warts and pimples are not a turn-on. Get plastic surgery if you can afford it. Stop. This was such utter drivel. “Fascinating,” I said. Surely she didn’t… She must have been a human lie detector. “You think it’s awful.” “No. I mean, yes, I do. It’s common sense to do those things. Except for wearing sweats. Nothing wrong with some tight yoga pants. But your hair’s beautiful. And plastic surgery is bloody crazy.” She played with her beads, a bemused look on her face. Heat seared me. I licked my lips. “I have this vision of twisting that strand around your neck and holding you down while I take what I want from behind.” Her eyes got huge as saucers. “I—I don’t think—” I’m an impulsive guy, so I didn’t stop to think of the repercussions. I grabbed that necklace, pulled her shocked face to mine, and laid one on her. She was hot in an understated way, and I liked it. Her lips parted, and I groaned at the softness of her mouth. She sighed, her hands wrapping around my nape and pulling me closer. I delved deeper, exploring the recesses of her, and she gave back tit for tat, her little moans cranking me up. My tongue traced her lips, devouring the cherry-flavored lipgloss I tasted. There’s something about a first kiss that makes me high, and I’ve had plenty of them, but this one was different. Maybe it’s because it was the only one I’d had while flying through the air at five hundred miles an hour. Maybe it was because she wasn’t my usual type, hard and experienced, but soft and sweet. After several minutes of intense kissing, I came up for air. “Fuck me,” I breathed against her lips. I meant it as an interjection, of course. “Yes,” she breathed back, and I got all tangled up inside and confused. Hold on, wait a minute. Did she mean that as an expression, or did she mean Yes, I want to be part of the mile-high club?
My hand cupped her cheek as I gazed into her slightly dilated eyes. If she was offering, we’d manage it. There was always the bathroom. I’d go first, and then she’d come…oh yeah, she would. I shivered at the image in my head. Perhaps we could stay in our seats and use the blanket she had. My mind raced with the possibilities, getting pumped. Ding! The fasten seat belt light flashed on as we hit turbulence. And all my hot plans went to hell. “I hate flying,” she said, clutching my hand. I stared down at it. I hadn’t held hands in years. “Sorry,” I said, watching the fear flicker over her face as we hit another big pocket or turbulence. She went white and I got anxious. Shit. I hoped she didn’t hurl. I checked the seat for the barf bag in case she needed it. The commotion went on intermittently for ten minutes until the pilot finally elevated us up another couple thousand feet, away from the buffering. When I glanced over at her, she’d fallen asleep. And there you go. The story of my life. I meet a nice girl, kiss her, and fate steps in and says, No, you wanker, she is not for you. I tucked the blanket around her and put her kindle aside. Time ticked by slowly, and I kept checking, but she didn’t stir. Should I poke her? I wanted to shove my hand in her hair and pull her lips back to mine. I settled for watching her sleep. Debbie walked by a few times, her eyes eating me up like I was her last meal. Well, airplane food does suck. I mostly ignored her, but on her second swipe through when she brought me some nuts and a soda, I grinned back. I needed a distraction before I saw my father. Why was I waiting for Taffy to wake when Debbie was available? I should be all over her, not tapping my foot, waiting for Sleeping Beauty. And let’s be honest, Taffy and I hooking up was not a smart idea. She was too good for me, and besides, I made it a policy to only go for the girls who wouldn’t be upset if I didn’t call them the next day. What if I was the one making Taffy sad and not Nico? I wouldn’t want that. Perhaps it was time to nip us before we ever got started. Debbie whispered in my ear. “Meet me in the bathroom at the back of the plane.” I arched a brow. “Less people there,” she added, giving me sultry look with those smoky eyes. Hmmm, why not? She straightened up. “Five minutes?” I flicked my eyes over to Taffy. Still out. I nodded, but I felt guilty. And that thought freaked me out. I had no commitment with Taffy. I was a free man. Four minutes later I still hadn’t left my seat. I don’t know why.
Then I remembered I was headed to New York to see my father. I’d have to watch him fawn over some girl young enough to be his daughter. I’d have to stay in his penthouse and listen while he lectured me about what a disappointment I was. We’d have the same old arguments. Yeah, it’d be like that. One big suck fest. With that thought in mind, I unbuckled and sauntered to the back. I eased in that antiseptic-smelling, cramped bathroom, and when I heard the knock at the door, I opened it. She slithered in, smelling like a perfume counter at the mall. I didn’t let our eyes meet, but she didn’t seem to care. I didn’t kiss her on the mouth either. I just couldn’t, and I didn’t want to think about the reasons why. I got hot, and not in a good way, probably from the lack of space. I swallowed convulsively, wondering if I was going to hurl. What was wrong with me? Was seeing my father affecting me this much? She must have sensed my hesitation because she unsnapped my jeans, sending the familiar tingle all the way down to my toes. Yeah, I needed this. Maybe it would make me feel better. Debbie seemed like she’d done the dirty before in a plane if her directions on limb placement were anything to go by. It only took six minutes, tops, both of us reaching a new kind of high at thirty thousand feet. We couldn’t get too crazy, with other people just a few feet away, but I liked to think it was memorable for her. Not so much for me. I’d probably not recall her name. I’d never want to. Sex with her made me forget about the monsters that stomped around in my head. I hated their little whispers about how I’d never amount to anything, how the people that loved me always leave. Being with her snuffed out the voices and gave me something else to think about. Sex filled the blackness I had inside. She wasn’t the first girl I’d taken in the loo; she wouldn’t be the last. A few minutes later, I settled back in my seat, feeling one part relaxed, but the other was decidedly offkilter.
Chapter Four
Taffy
OH, HE DIDN’T fool me one bit. Did he actually think I was really asleep?
Okay, maybe I had been, but as soon as that slutty flight attendant came over, my ears had perked up. And he’d gone back there! He’d been with some skank he’d just met. I mentally shook my head. And I’d kissed him. Fuck. I stirred around in my seat, adjusting my shirt and pearls and hair. It’s not like I’d ever see him again. He wasn’t a student at NYU or part of my social crowd, obviously. He was some two-bit musician playing in a band. That was all. “You decide to wake up?” he asked, avoiding my gaze. “You back from your rendezvous in the bathroom?” I replied, cool as a cucumber. “Classy.” He opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it. Uh-huh. I was glad I’d only kissed him and hadn’t fooled around like I’d been contemplating. “I can only imagine what the poor passengers in the back of the plane heard.” “You were asleep.” He shrugged and spread his hands. “And you’re too nice for—” “I wasn’t attracted to you anyway,” I snapped. He lasered me with assessing brown eyes. “Is that right?” I nodded. “I was half-baked on wine and pills when I kissed you. Get over yourself.” “Sticking with good ole Rico, huh? The boy who never shows you any attention? He never will as long as you keep up this whole holier-than-thou attitude. If you want to break down some walls between you and this tosser, then live a little. Quit carrying your pillow on an airplane. Dress like you belong in this century. Stop harassing me because I shagged the flight attendant. Put those rules in your stupid book.” I wrinkled my nose. “His name is Nico, and you smell like sex and cheap perfume. I hope that gives you warm fuzzies tonight when you walk around with her scent on you.” I pushed in my earplugs and ignored him. How humiliating that he’d chosen her over me. How disgusting that I’d even kissed him. What was wrong with me that I always chose the ones who didn’t choose me back? It’s not you, my ex-boyfriends always said, but it was me. I’d been dumped too many times for it not to
be. Either they cheated, found out they were gay, or got intimidated by my money. The list went on and on. I’d chosen poorly once again. And to make matters worse, I didn’t really have any friends to speak of. Nico? I wasn’t sure why he kept me around. My roommate hated me. Marge did, too. My professors mostly ignored me. My mother was controlling. My father was dead. My life was pathetic. The plane began its descent to LaGuardia. I clenched my teeth, dug my nails into my palms, and pretended I wasn’t upset. I couldn’t figure out if it was the usual flight fear or anger at believing he’d been into me. Bah. We finally taxied in and after a few minutes came to a stop. He shot up as soon as we could and left, making his way to Debbie. She handed him his guitar and a card. It probably had her contact deets on it. I hated to tell her, but I didn’t think he’d be calling. I suspected he never called girls. My phone buzzed. Mother. Waiting for you downstairs next to baggage claim. I groaned. I wanted to get home, crawl under the covers and push aside this horrible spring break. And if I was honest, I wanted to call Nico, and if he didn’t answer, maybe I’d swing by his place and see if he was home. See, I’m a sucker for punishment.
Chapter Five
Spider
WE LANDED UNEVENTFULLY. Taffy practically hugged the window the entire time.
I’d disappointed her. I sighed. Just one more girl I’d hurt. She was lucky she’d gotten away from me. I wasn’t any good. Debbie handed off my case, but before I walked through the door, I couldn’t resist one last look back at Taffy. She was checking her phone, and I wondered if it was Nico. Not that I cared. But I admitted I was curious about her Italian. I hung back where she couldn’t see me and waited for her to pass. It was completely irrational, but I wanted to see who was meeting her. She walked right past me, and I slid in behind her, my eyes stuck like glue to that heart-shaped ass. Maybe there was something about dressing like a hot librarian. She came to an abrupt halt at the baggage claim, her attention caught by something or someone? I followed her gaze, and it led straight to…my father? That couldn’t be right. My gut clenched at the disgusting thought of my father with Taffy. Then I saw her. A blonde lady in her mid-forties came into focus as she glided up to Taffy and gave her the air-cheek kiss. And sure enough, Taffy was moving forward to meet my father. I blinked, my eyes bouncing from him to the older lady and back to Taffy. I hauled my ass over to them, stopping behind Taffy who hadn’t noticed yet. “Clarence,” he said, making me cringe at the sound of my birth name. Would it hurt for him to call me Spider like everyone else? I’d only had the nickname for twenty years. I inclined my head, and as if in slo-mo, Taffy turned to me. The whole airport zoomed out as she looked at me with those wide green eyes. Yeah, she’d thought she’d seen the last of me. “And who might these two ladies be?” I asked my father. He wrapped his arms around the lady. “This is Penelope Farnsworth, my fiancée, and this,” he nodded at Taffy,” is your soon-to-be stepsister, Primrose.” I gave her my full attention. “Primrose?”
Oh, it fit. It really did. And to think I’d nearly opened that flower. “Clarence?” she snipped back. I must be certifiably insane—because I leaned down and kissed her boldly on the lips, my teeth swiping at her lower lip. I got a jolt of electricity that went straight to my crotch. “Nice to meet you, Prim,” I murmured, eyes at half-mast. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” She wiped a hand over her mouth and glared at me. “Don’t do that again.” I grinned. New York just got interesting.
The End
About the Author WALL STREET JOURNAL best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha
males that sometimes you just want to slap. She's addicted to dystopian books and all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding females. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, dark chocolate, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she's a Gemini), and tattoos. She has a degree in English and a Master's in Education. Sign up here for her newsletter to receive a FREE Briarwood Academy novella plus get insider info and exclusive giveaways! Click the link to join the Unicorn Girls in her Facebook Group. For more information about the next book and to order signed books, please visit my social media sites: Website Ilsa Madden-Mills Facebook Ilsa Madden-Mills Goodreads Page Ilsa's Instagram Ilsa's Twitter
Taking My Shot
by Jen Frederick
“YOU KEEP LOOKING over there and it won’t be just me noticing,” Berg Rogers says.
I take one last look at the couple in the back of Mahoney’s before dragging my gaze away. I shove a french fry into my mouth. It’s dark in the back corner so I can’t make out all of their expressions, but I’ve been watching one of them closely for the last six months, and I’ve gotten to know her body language pretty well. Not as well as I’d like, but that’s going to change. The tight way she’s holding herself, the press of her lips, how she’s leaning away from the table while he’s leaning in, all point to her wanting to be away from the suited man sitting across the table: The Egg, as I refer to him in my head. “Something’s wrong,” I tell Berg. “Maybe so, but do you really want to be that guy?” I don’t really give a shit what others think about me, but since he’s my partner, I decide to humor him. “What guy is that?” “The rebound guy,” he says, with exaggerated patience. “So it’s obvious they’re breaking up, right?” I peek over my shoulder again. Dammit. If only I’d come earlier, I could’ve positioned myself in Berg’s chair which has a direct line of sight to the scene I can’t stop following. Berg sighs. “Yes, they’re breaking up, but did you not just hear what I said? The rebound guy is the one the girl uses to get over her last boyfriend, not the guy she settles down with.” “So I’m supposed to sit on my ass while she fucks another guy?” I ask incredulously. In the six months since Sweeney Barrow’s been dating Wilson Gadbury III, thoughts of the two of them knocking boots have kept me up at night. I can’t go another period of time with someone else taking off Sweeney’s clothes, licking her delectable body, and waking up to her gorgeous face in the morning. “She might not sleep with the rebound guy,” Berg protests. At my pointed, you’re a dumbass look, he drops his eyes in shame. “Fine, yes, she’s going to fuck the rebound guy; but, even so, it’s a small price to pay if she’s really who you want to settle down with.” “This is why you’re on your second divorce, Berg.” “Fuck you, Madison. The longest you’ve ever stuck with a woman is four months. And that was back when we were in high school and you were too fucking lazy to break up with Tara Reagan because you didn’t want to find someone else to take to senior prom. Take my advice. Do not go over there. That girl is probably going to be an emotional mess for months. Let someone else mop that shit up, and then you swoop in when she’s all healed up.” I grab my beer and wash down the fry. “If anyone’s going to heal her up, it’ll be me.” The idea of her getting better because some other guy is dicking her makes me want to shoot someone. I set the beer on the table and dig into my jacket for my wallet. I fish out a twenty and throw it on the table. Berg shakes his head. “I think you’re making a mistake. You should wait—“
“And what? Let another guy take my place? I had a chance and lost it. Not going to make the same mistake twice.” By the time Berg opens his mouth to give me another piece of unwanted advice, I’m halfway across the room. As I approach, Easter Egg springs to his feet. “What about tomorrow?” he yelps. Sweeney shrugs. “I’ve been to a lot of events alone before you.” “And now you’ll be alone for the rest of your life. You’re going to regret this,” he spits out, flipping his overly hair sprayed bangs out of his eyes. Apparently, juries love this move, but I think it’s an overt sign of his douchebaggery. He has to have a small dick. That’s the only reason I can come up with to explain his slavish devotion to his hair. I don’t think my three sisters collectively spend as much time and attention on their long locks as the Easter Egg does on his. Plus, he wears all those pastel shirts under his gray and black suits. Hence, the Easter Egg nickname. That, and because his last name rhymes with Cadbury. “I’ll add it to the list of things I’ve regretted doing for the past six months,” Sweeney shoots back. A few of the cops near Sweeney’s table cover their mouths. I have to bite back my own smile. For a smart guy, Gadbury doesn’t get the implication right away, but then a few cops near Sweeney’s table can’t hold in their laughter. His glare turns menacing. “You bi—“ Oh no. Not on my watch. I plant my feet inches away from his. “That’s enough, Gadbury.” He whips an arm out toward Sweeney who’s staring at The Egg as if she’s going to kill him. “She just —” I grab the arm and turn him toward the door. “Like I said, that’s enough.” Easter Egg shrugs me off. “Get your hands off me, detective. This is a thousand dollar suit.” I raise my hands. “Great. We’re in agreement. I’m not going to touch you, and you’re going to leave.” Easter Egg looks as if he’s about to say something else he’ll regret, but a few loud coughs have him taking inventory of exactly where he is. Mahoney’s is a cop shop, located just two blocks away from the county jail. While he’s technically part of the fraternity, being an Assistant District Attorney, boots outnumber suits in this bar by a fair margin. And if he doesn’t start moving, my boot is going to be up his ass. Something must show on my face because after another huff and a pointed stare, which I think is supposed to scare me, he does the hair flip again before stomping toward the door. A chair scrapes behind me. When I turn around, Sweeney’s on her feet, gathering her shit. Her plate of food has barely been touched. “You hungry?” I ask, pulling out a chair. I wave a hand at the waiter who bustles over. “Can you get
us…” I look at her plate again. “Two burgers, fries, all the shit on the side, and two beers?” “Sure, Detective Madison.” “What are you doing, Gabe?” Sweeney asks, her coat over her arm. I tug on it gently, but firmly. “I’m taking you up on that invitation.” Her cheeks turn as pink as her pretty lips. “That invitation was over six months ago.” “I remember. It was right before you started dating Gadbury. Moved on a bit quick, did you?” She shrugs easily. “What do you care? You said no.” And I’ve regretted it ever since. I regretted it the minute I got home, and then again two weeks later when I first saw the Easter Egg hitting on Sweeney at the courthouse in some goddamned made for TV movie meet-cute. But it wasn’t until I saw his hand on her ass a few weeks ago, after they left the movie theatre, that I decided I was going to have to make a move or get thrown in jail for the murder of an ADA. “You caught me at a bad time.” “And it’s better now?” she says, the sarcasm heavy in her voice. “Much.” I pat the empty seat. “It was actually better a couple weeks after, but by then, you’d moved on.” “That’s some story,” she says, still not moving or letting go of her coat. “It’s not a story. It’s the truth, and I’ll tell you more about it if you sit down and eat your dinner with me.” I catch a subtle movement as she shifts slightly from one foot to another. She’s wavering. “I had just finished wrapping up a bad domestic violence case and dating wasn’t at the top of my list. By the time I got my head out of my ass, you and Gadbury had already become an item. Stepping on another man’s toes isn’t my thing.” But I would’ve done it. I was getting to that point. She sighs and then drops into the chair, allowing me to take her jacket, which I place on my other side. I swivel in my chair and address the breathless audience. “Show’s over, folks.” Across the bar, Berg raises a beer in my direction. “May the odds be ever in your favor.” A number of my other co-workers give the same salute. I glance at Sweeney to see how red she is at this, but she only shakes her head. “If we’re opening a book on how this dinner turns out, I’m putting a hundred on me going home by myself.” “Fair enough.” The dinner comes before she can respond. “You have a good day?” I ask before taking a bite out of my burger. She piles the lettuce, tomato, and, then, with a defiant look at me, adds the onion. She has a lot to learn about me if she thinks eating an onion’s going to deter me from sticking my tongue in her mouth. “I moved two kids out of their house today because their mom has been so stoned for the last month that she’d forgotten to feed them.” “So that’s a no, huh?” I say gently.
Her lower lips trembles almost imperceptibly before giving me an abrupt nod. She shoves the burger aside. “I wish I’d gone into something else.” “Like what?” I nudge some fries toward her fingers. Absentminded, she picks one up and puts in her mouth. I decide to cut her burger up. Maybe she’ll eat that, too. My baby looks too thin for her own good. “I don’t know. Construction? I was driving over by Third Street, and the people working the flags, directing traffic, looked sufficiently bored.” “You don’t need boring work.” I lift a fork full of fully loaded hamburger, onion and all, to her mouth. She opens almost reflexively. “You need someone to come home to. Someone you can unload on.” I stick my fork in her mouth before she can say I’m wrong. “I get it,” I continue. “I need the same thing. Back when you asked me out, I was coming off a tough DV case. I’d been out to this place a number of times. The neighbors were always calling, telling us there were loud noises, fighting. One time, the husband chased the wife out of the house and grabbed her by the hair. We all knew she was getting knocked around, but every time we responded to a call, she’d deny it.” I set the fork down, the memory of the last time I’d driven to the small blue house on Pine and Fourth Street making the hamburger less appetizing. “Was?” Sweeney says softly. I give myself a small shake. No sense in getting caught up in the bad past. That’s what cratered my chances with Sweeney the first time. “Was,” I affirm. I pick up the fork again, but this time it’s Sweeney who reaches out to me. The soft touch on my hand is more thrilling than seeing a naked woman. “You can unload on me,” she offers. My first instinct is to brush her off, but then I realize if I do, I’d be making all my big words meaningless. I take a deep breath. “The day you caught me outside the District Attorney’s office, I’d just come from the scene. He’d beaten her head in with a cast iron pan. There were…” I omit the grittier details. “It was a bad scene. If I hadn’t been out there so many times before and known she had a tattoo of a bunny rabbit on her arm, I don’t know that I would’ve recognized her. The husband was crying, saying —” “She made him do it,” she says. At my surprised look, a sad smile tips up the corners of her mouth. “I’ve heard that a million times before.” “I bet you have.” We share a moment of awful understanding. I drink some of my beer. She swallows some of hers. I take another breath and realize how much lighter I feel. “Anyway, I went home, threw myself a two week pity party, and when I came up for air, you were dating Gadbury. How’d that happen so fast?” It’s her turn to sigh. “My sister got engaged. She’s ten years older than me, and I’ve always idolized her. She had zero desire to get married, have kids, or any of that traditional family unit stuff. Then one day, she goes to Britain on a business trip, falls in love with an actual knight, and decides she’s going to get
married.” She toys with a french fry. “So I decided I wanted to give the whole serious relationship thing a shot.” “And I blew it.” Shit, my timing sucked. She laughs lightly. “So you did.” “I’d like another chance.” There’s a flicker of interest but then she drops her eyes. “I just broke up with a guy. I think I should have a cooling off period before I jump into the dating pool.” “Why? Are you broken-hearted? You don’t look it.” “And how does broken-hearted look?” “I’ve got three sisters,” I put out there right away so she doesn’t assume I’m acquainted with that particular emotion because I’m some dick, jerking women around every day of the week. “In my experience, heartbreak is characterized by red eyes, lots of mascara tracks, and a fair of amount of ice cream. Those signs are missing here.” “Is that your professional opinion, Detective Madison?” she says. Her merry eyes and candy pink smile tell me as much as anything that Easter Egg walking away hasn’t put a dent in her ego, let alone touched her heart. “I’ve been known to put two and two together in the past,” I grin. “So tomorrow? We’ll have dinner, catch a movie.” “Can’t.” And with that one word, she stands, picks up her purse and then walks around to the seat where I’ve been holding her jacket hostage. “What’s wrong with tomorrow?” I narrow my eyes. Did she break up with Easter Egg because she already had another guy in the wings? “It’s the most romantic day of the year, Gabe.” “It is?” I rack my brain for what that means. Is that code for something? Did I miss a signal from her again? She tugs on the collar of her coat. I keep my hand on it. I’m not letting it, or her, go until I pin her down for a date. So what if she has a new man? She wanted me once, and she can damn well want me again. “You’ve been single for a long time, haven’t you?” she says with a smirk. “Yeah,” I say confused. “Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day. When else would an actual knight get married?” she says. “Oh, so your sister’s wedding is tomorrow.” The pieces are falling into place, particularly why Easter Egg said she’d regret breaking up with him. “No problem. I’ll be your date to the wedding.” Confident she’ll agree to this, I lift my hand off the jacket. It’s perfect. Her beloved sister is getting married on a big romantic holiday. What could be a better place for seduction than that? “Oh, I don’t need a date. I wasn’t planning on taking Wilson anyway. He thought I’d need him there, but I’ve got maid of honor duties.” She drapes the coat over one arm and starts wending her way toward
the door. I follow, my eyes briefly dropping to watch the curve of her ass sway back and forth. The tight, skinny skirt she’s wearing emphasizes her pert ass. I look forward to unwrapping that particular package some day in the near future. “Someone needs to be there to hold the flowers.” There’s no way I’m standing aside while the best man tries to romance his way under her skirt. The tux I wore to my sisters’ weddings probably still fits. “You’d be bored.” “That’s not a no.” I hold the door open as she exits. “I’m not having sex with you just because it’s a wedding.” She marches straight for her white Passat. “Wouldn’t expect that.” Want it, yes. Expect it, no. “What time should I pick you up?” “I’ve got to be at the Temple at two for photos. The service doesn’t begin until five. If you’re serious, you can meet me at the reception at seven.” “I’ll pick you up at 1:30 then.” “Gabe. There’s no reason for that.” “Sure there is. I want you, Sweeney. I let you slip through my fingers before, and it’s not happening again. Attending a few extra things tomorrow while you’re busy with wedding shit is a small price to pay.” I tap my pocket. “I’ve got my phone. I can bring a case file. I can watch a Netflix video while you smile pretty for the camera and do shit for your sister.” A frown settles on her face. “I don’t see how that’s any fun for you. I’ll have to be with my sister, getting her ready, taking pictures. I sit at the head table during the reception. It’s why I didn’t invite Wilson.” “I’m a fully grown adult,” I tell her. “I can entertain myself while you’re busy. You’ll have some down time, and we can spend it together.” “And that’s enough?” she asks skeptically. “That’s enough.” Like hell I’m going to let her out of my sight. Last time, I looked away for a few seconds—okay, a couple of weeks—and then next thing I know, she’s with another guy. That can’t happen again. Her eyebrows come together as she frowns and then, with a quick shrug, she relents. “Fine. Pick me up at one thirty.” “Should I wear a tux or a suit or what? What kind of shindig is this?” “You have a tux?” she asks in surprise. “I’ve stood up for three weddings in the last five years. It was cheaper to buy one than keep renting it.” Her eyes run over me, and by the appreciative glint in them, she’s imagining me wearing the penguin suit. I don’t know what it is, but that black and white garb really wets the panties of most women. I should start wearing it while I question witnesses and see what shakes out. “I can’t imagine this is going to be fun for you,” she says finally. “But I also sense that resistance is
futile.” A quick grin spreads across my face. “We’re speaking the same language already.” “Goodbye, Gabe.” She opens the car door but before she can slide into her seat, I snake a hand around the back of her neck. She stills but doesn’t wrench out of my grip. I move slowly, giving her time to move away, to say no, to tell me to go to hell. But when she doesn’t do anything but stare at me with those golden eyes of hers, I draw her against me. We fit perfectly. With her sky-high heels, the top of her head is at my nose and with a dip of my knees, my mouth finds hers. Her lips part almost instantaneously, and I can’t resist sweeping my tongue inside. Her body melts against me and I take full advantage, sweeping her tight into my arms, fitting my aching erection into the notch between her legs. Despite her tight skirt and my jeans, I feel the scorching heat of her. My knees buckle. Hadn’t I always known it would be like this? From the moment we literally smacked into each other? Isn’t that why I fled in the opposite direction? Well, I am done running. I want nothing more than to eliminate all distance between us. I’d like to ruck up her skirt, pull down her panties, and take her right here. But here is the parking lot of Mahoney’s with the jail two blocks east and the DA’s office three blocks north. Half our associates are either in the bar or heading there now. I know better. I allow myself one last lick inside her mouth, one last squeeze of her fine ass in my palms, one last grind of my dick against her core, before I pull away. “Sweeney, fuck.” I shove her head into the crook of my neck. My thunderous heart pounds against her chest. “So this is what I’ve been missing,” she murmurs, sounding a bit dazed. “Ditto.” On both accounts: feeling dazed and missing out. Reluctantly, I let her peel herself out of my arms. “Give me your phone,” I tell her. When she does, I type in my number and then press the call button so I have hers. “Tomorrow. 1:30. “ “This is crazy,” she says, as she drops into the driver’s seat. I shut the door firmly and slap my hand on the roof. The car doesn’t start immediately. Inside, Sweeney’s staring at the wheel, as if she can’t quite figure out what just happened. I’m unraveled, too, baby. I knew I wanted Sweeney, but it wasn’t until I laid my hands on her that I realized how much. Finally, she starts the car and navigates out of the parking lot. I wait until the taillights of her car disappear around the corner before going back inside to settle the bill and grab my coat. There’re a few sly winks from the guys. Berg claps his hands mockingly when I reach his table. “Didn’t think you could pull it off.” “Oh ye of little faith,” I say with a grin. “We’ll be getting married by the end of the year so start saving
for my gift. I’m going to want something nice since I had to buy you two gifts.” I pay my bill for the second dinner, and head out. “Madison, wait up.” I turn around to see Aaron Donnelly, a cop I know, hail me from the door of Mahoney’s. Tall and pencil thin, Donnelly’s long legs propel him across the parking lot in short order. “Glad I caught you,” he says. “I saw you leave with Wilson’s girl.” “They broke up,” I say tersely. “Right. Which is why you should probably head over there tonight.” My eyes narrow. “Why’s that?” “Wilson’s got a temper. He lost a case about three months ago, and the night the verdict came down exonerating the perp, I got called to check on some property damage. The defense attorney’s mailbox had been smashed in with a bat. Defense attorney swore he saw Wilson’s car, but, well, given that Wilson’s ADA, we couldn’t do much about it.” “Christ. You think he’s going to vandalize Sweeney’s house?” “I wouldn’t put it past him.” “Thanks.” I clap Donnelly on the shoulder and then climb into my truck. Donnelly quickly gives me Sweeney’s address, and I roll out. She lives in Lee Hill, a small neighborhood north of downtown where the 19th century houses are in varying degrees of disrepair. Her’s is a small two story with a wrought iron picket fence surrounding the front lawn. The condition of the house is on the decrepit side, but there are obvious signs of improvement, such as the freshly installed front porch which Sweeney’s in the process of painting. This place has good bones. I think of the tools in my own garage and how I could put them to some good use here. I park the truck two houses down from Sweeney’s, positioned so that I’m out of the pool of light cast by the streetlight but close enough to see any trouble coming. Pulling out my phone, I shoot her a text. Can’t wait to meet my future in-laws tomorrow. Despite the dark state of the house, a response comes back immediately. You’re crazy. Determined. That’s one way to put it. The only way.
Why now? Because my head is out of my ass. You’re lucky I broke up with Wilson, then. Luck has nothing to do with it. I’d have pursued you anyway. Now that’s crazy. Maybe? But seems like you wanted me first. You should always have your first choice. She’d asked me out first. Not the Easter Egg. So, yeah, even though she’d been dating him, she belonged to me. I just wasn’t smart enough to realize that. I think this is the place where I tell you that you lost your chance. My heart seizes up. After that kiss? Have I? I type back. Those three dots appear far too long. Sigh. No. The relief I feel is incredible. You’re my first choice, too. I don’t feel that way. It’s true, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you. Like I said, crazy. Our texting is cut short when a silver Mercedes whips by me and squeals to a halt a few houses down
from Sweeney. Easter Egg gets out; Officer Donnelly deserves a thank you note. I grab my flashlight and gun and hop out of the cab of the truck. “Long way from the batting cages,” I shine the big light on the bat and then move up to the man’s startled face. “Why are you here?” He asks belligerently, trying to hide the bat behind his leg. “Waiting.” I don’t say why I’m waiting because I’m not giving Donnelly up. Obviously, Easter Egg has some pull or he’d have been charged for vandalism before. “Get that damn light out of my eyes,” he says. A hand shoots up to shield his face from the light. I close the distance between us in a few, space-eating strides. “My suggestion, Cadbury, is to leave before you do something that’s going to get you in front of a disciplinary board.” “What are you calling me?” he asks. “That’s what you’re worried about?” This guy’s priorities are fucked up. “You should be concerned that I don’t go back to the station and fill out a report.” “Of what?” He juts out his chin. “I’ve every right to stand on the sidewalk. I’m a private citizen.” “Great. Go for a midnight walk in front of your own neighborhood which is eight miles in the opposite direction.” I gesture with my gun toward his silver Mercedes. “And leave the bat here while you’re at it.” Easter Egg’s grip on the bat tightens for a second, but in the face of my implacable expression, he throws it angrily toward me. I take an easy step to the side and let it fall on the sidewalk to my right. “Good boy. Now it’s time to turn around and walk to your car.” The front door opens before Easter Egg can reply. A slim figure in a heavy terry cloth robe flies out of the house and down the sidewalk. “What are you two doing here?” I shine the light on the bat. “Cadbury got lost, and I was giving him directions on how to get home.” Sweeney glowers at Easter Egg. “Are you kidding me? You were going to trash my property?” Easter Egg’s face grows red. “Are you sleeping with this guy already? We just broke up.” “It’s none of your business,” she shoots back. “Answer my question.” “Screw you, Sweeney.” “Ha! You wish!” she exclaims. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t have sex with you.” Easter Egg opens his mouth to insult Sweeney. “I wouldn’t, if I were you,” I warn in a hard voice. Easter Egg gives us both a dirty look. “You two deserve each other,” he says before stomping off. Sweeney doesn’t even watch him go. She puts a hand on her gate and says, “Why are you here?” “I had a feeling.” “Good Lord.” She glances in Easter Egg’s direction, and then back to me. “I suppose you’re going to sit in your big truck all night.” I remain silent rather than lie. She unlocks the gate and gestures me forward. “Come in, then. You can sleep in the guest room.”
Bending down, I swipe the baseball bat off the ground and then follow her docilely inside. “Did you call him Cadbury?” she asks, as we climb the steps of her porch. “Yup.” She laughs. “My sister calls him that, too.” “It’s an unfortunate last name.” “I couldn’t ever see myself marrying him,” she confesses. She leads me upstairs and opens the first door to reveal a big bed, a good-sized chair and a night stand. The entire set up is nicer than my bedroom at home. “Nice digs,” I comment, tossing the flashlight on the mattress. “My sister is a decorator.” “The one marrying the knight?” “Yup.” She lingers at the doorway, probably wanting a kiss goodnight, but I can’t give it to her. Not here, when a bed is five steps away. However, I can’t have her leaving thinking I don’t want her. “I’d kiss you, but I know I’m not going to want to stop.” I jerk my thumb toward the mattress. “Particularly when there’s a soft bed within reach. And since we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, I figure there’s no hurry.” A smile flits across her face. “Confident, aren’t you.” “Let’s call it determined.” She pushes away from the door and steps toward me. “That’s what I liked about you in the beginning. Every time I saw you, there was this air of… knowing about you. You walked with a purpose. You spoke confidently. I always wondered if that translated into other areas of your life.” She comes to a halt, the soft fabric of her robe brushing against my belt buckle. Her hand reaches out to draw itself across my chest. I can barely draw a breath. “You don’t turn that sweet ass around, and you’re going to get an actual demonstration.” I wait one heartbeat and when she doesn’t move, I sweep her up in my arms. She yelps. “Where are you going?” “Your room,” I say tersely. My ability to talk is starting to malfunction. “Our first time is going to be in our room.” “Our room?” “Your house is nicer. I’ll sell mine, and we’ll use that money to redo stuff here.” I toss her onto the small bed she sleeps in. Toeing off my boots, I say, “First thing, we’re getting a new bed.” She props herself up on her elbows, the sides of the robe parting slightly to reveal glimpses of pale, delicious flesh. Hurriedly, I strip off the rest of my clothes. “First thing, huh?” She dips her head toward my dick which, now that he’s no longer restrained, is pointing aggressively in her direction.
“Okay, second thing.” I slide my palms up her legs, stopping at her thighs to spread her wide. I rub my nose against the tender inside flesh of her leg, inches away from her hot, wet center. “Maybe the third thing.” I strip her panties away. “First thing is wishing you a very happy Valentine’s Day, baby. I love what you got for me.” I give her a long lick, and she shudders underneath me. “Flowers,” I drag a finger down her core and then lift it to my mouth. “And candy.” “Traditional gifts,” she laughs shakily. “Exactly.” Her arms reach up to drag me down on top of her. “Sounds perfect.” As I slide inside of her, I say, “It is now.”
About the Author JEN FREDERICK is the USA Today bestselling author of Unspoken, part of the Woodlands series, and
Sacked, part of the Gridiron series. She lives in the Midwest with a husband who keeps track of life’s details while she’s writing, a daughter who understands when Mom disappears into her office for hours at a time, and a rambunctious dog who does neither. Jen writes love stories about hot alpha men and the women who challenge them. You can reach her at
[email protected]
Someone Not You
by Jessica Hawkins
Chapter One I NEVER CLAIMED to understand women—which was why I wrote for a men’s magazine. I could instruct
men on how to impress, treat, or score women, but understand them? Not part of the job description. Sitting in a conference room at Debonair Magazine headquarters while Sebastian bickered with Georgina, I was fairly sure he didn’t understand chicks, either. “Red isn’t ‘woman-ish,’” Georgina said, grimacing at the term Sebastian had idiotically thrown out there. “Red conveys power. Virility.” “Not in this case.” Sebastian leaned over a mock-up of February’s issue. He pointed to the red, flowing script she’d added underneath the title. “Red is for hearts. Roses. Lipstick. Writing ‘Special Valentine’s Issue’ in cursive across the cover makes us look like a chick’s magazine.” Everybody in the room groaned. Georgina—or George, as we’d been instructed to call her—had been brought onto the team less than a week ago, yet she and Sebastian had managed to have the same argument over and over. It went something like: “We’re not a woman’s magazine.” “That doesn’t mean we can’t appeal to women.” “Does so.” “Does not.” Sebastian had been Creative Director for a long time. When our Editor-in-Chief had hired George to bring a fresh perspective, well . . . it was going about as well as I’d assumed. George bristled. “You’re giving up a large chunk of the market by ignoring women. Just because we write for men doesn’t mean women won’t buy.” “So you keep saying,” Sebastian said. “But I’m still not convinced. Find a better argument.” “Better?” George stood. “You think staying the same while every other men’s magazine progresses is better?” “All right, love birds,” I interjected. They each turned to glare down the conference table at me. How they still didn’t know they were attracted to each other was beyond me. I’d picked it up right away. Sebastian could be fucking dense like that. “Can we get back to what’s inside the mag?” I asked. “Some of us have work to do.” “He’s right.” George straightened her blazer, sat, and turned to me. “Justin, why don’t you share what you’re contributing to February’s issue?” “Since Valentine’s Day is the big theme,” I said, “I really did some soul searching.” George’s expression cleared. “Great. Thanks for being a team player. Let’s hear it.”
“Picture this. It’s nighttime, nothing but soft, damp grass all around you as you lie on a picnic blanket with your girl under the cover of stars. She reaches over and undoes your pants, right there—in the middle of a golf course.” I grinned and spread my arms in front of me as I revealed the concept for my feature. “‘The Most Romantic Places to get Freaky in Public.’” “Nice.” Sebastian nodded. “We haven’t done that before.” “Movie theater sex,” Frank volunteered. “During a sappy chick flick.” “Backseat of an Aston Martin,” Sebastian added. “Women appreciate an expensive ride.” George set her jaw. “No.” I frowned. “Why not?” “You can’t make something romantic just by adding the word romantic. Public sex doesn’t exactly scream romance, but even if it did—it’s cliché. Boring. And it doesn’t appeal to women.” With a collective sigh, we all sat back in our seats, our dreams dashed yet again. Since George had arrived, she’d been throwing a wet blanket on our fun. She could be cool, and she could hang—we’d found that out during happy hour Monday—but when it was time to get down to business, she wasn’t having it. “Try looking at that headline from a woman’s perspective,” George said. The room fell deathly silent. George was the first woman to sit in on our dick-storming sessions. We’d tried brainstorming, and it didn’t work out so well, so Sebastian had invented dick-storming. We let our dicks do the thinking. It’d been a raging success—until George. We didn’t want to see things from a woman’s perspective. We were men who worked for a men’s magazine. We wrote about cars and cologne and chicks—and we liked it that way. “With all due respect,” I said, “this isn’t an article for women. It’s for men.” “So if I’m standing in line at the grocery store,” George said, “and I see a magazine advertising how to get laid in public on the most romantic day of the year—do you think I’m going to bring that home?” She shook her head. “We can do better. I want to see something about creative dates or how to make Valentine’s Day uniquely special for the woman you love. That’s the issue I’d buy my boyfriend.” George didn’t even have a boyfriend, and those ideas sounded lame to me. But like I said, I never claimed to understand the opposite sex.
AFTER THE MEETING, I went to Sebastian’s office for my morning nap, but as soon as I strolled in, I
remembered a brutal truth: naptime wasn’t happening today. Maybe not even tomorrow or the next day. There was a hold up with George’s office, so she’d moved into Sebastian’s. Her stuff had exploded all
over Sebastian’s couch, coffee table, and half his floor. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” I muttered. Sebastian, seated at his neat, organized desk, shook his head. “George says no more morning naps. It’s ‘irresponsible.’ I tried to tell her when you don’t get your nap, you’re completely useless in the afternoons.” “I don’t know if I’d say completely useless—” “She’s making too many changes around here.” “She’s trying to prove herself,” I said. “Either that, or she needs a good lay. After my parents’ divorce, my mom was on a permanent rampage until she met her next boyfriend. Then she turned into some kind of peace-loving flower child.” “You’re an idiot,” Sebastian said. “It’s true. We need to find George a man, but not just any man. One who can handle her.” I watched Sebastian’s expression closely to see if he understood what I was trying to say. He needed to make his fucking move on her already. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re volunteering?” So he wanted to play it like that. He was trying to be cool, but his jaw ticked, which meant I was getting to him. There might be no greater fun in the world for me than getting under his skin. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll take one for the team and sleep with George.” He snorted. “She’d never go for you.” “Is that a dare? You know how it is when I turn on the charm.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Of course, luscious gold locks, blue eyes, a smile that’s been described as dashing, and above-average height doesn’t hurt. Put it all in a pot, turn up the heat, and I can get any woman I want.” “Prove it,” I heard from behind me. I froze. So did Sebastian, except his eyes shot over my shoulder. Fuck. I’d been busted talking shit on my new boss. Slowly, I turned. George leaned in the doorway, her arms crossed. I needed to dig myself out of the hole I’d just fallen into. “I didn’t actually mean . . . I was talking metaphorically—” “I’m not offended,” she said. “I just want you to prove it.” “Um.” I checked over my shoulder. Sebastian had gone from ticking jaw to impending Hulk. His face had reddened, and he looked as though he wanted to pound something. Me, probably. Movement in the corner of my eye made me jump. George was close, circling me, a hint of a smile on her face. Alerts fired in my mind. Danger! Danger! Somehow we’d ventured into unsafe territory. We were no longer two men running a magazine. We were George’s playthings. “I don’t understand. You want me to . . .” I couldn’t quite bring myself to say sleep with you to my boss. Instead, I tried, “You want us to go on a date?” George laughed—a little too hard if you asked me. “No,” she said, trying to catch her breath.
“Sebastian was right. I’d never go for someone like you. But you said you could get any woman, and I’d like to take you up on that challenge. Unless you were just blowing hot air . . .?” I didn’t want to challenge George. Knowing her, she wouldn’t back down. But I wasn’t the one who answered—my pride did. “Of course I wasn’t. Any woman I’ve ever set my sights on, I’ve won over.” “Great,” she said. “Then that’s your assignment for the Valentine’s Day issue. Get a woman to go on a date with you.” “Pfft.” I gave Sebastian a knowing look and mouthed, “In the bag.” “Justin does that for fun,” Sebastian said. “What’s the catch?” “It has to be someone who’d never go out with you. And I get to pick her.” Sebastian sat forward so fast, he almost toppled over in his chair. “I want in on that.” Bastard would jump at the chance to humiliate me. “Fine.” George walked around the room, tapping her chin. “We’ll throw a singles event. Sebastian and I will handle the guest list. All you have to do is get the girl of our choice to go on one date with you. Once the date is over, you’ll write the article about how it went.” “How exactly does this appeal to women?” I asked. “It’s about defying types. Can you fall for someone you never pictured yourself with? Should you try if your dating record’s less than stellar? When it comes to men, women love a challenge. They’ll swoon reading about a man trying to win over a girl while the odds are against him.” “What if he can’t pull it off?” Seb asked. I straightened up. “I can damn well pull it off, and you know it. You’re just jealous she didn’t ask you to write it.” George’s smile grew. “His pride. That’s what’s at stake—because the whole office will be waiting with bated breath to see how he does.” I swallowed—not my pride, I was already in too deep. I swallowed a nugget of doubt. I talked a big game, and I was able to back it up. But could I really convince every last one of the four million women in this city to go out with me? Wasn’t there a chance some of them couldn’t be won over? “What if I win?” I asked. “You’ve already won,” Sebastian said. “We’re throwing a party for you to meet women and get paid for it.” “A party in my honor?” I mused. On the company’s dime? I crossed the office to Seb’s window, which looked out over downtown Manhattan. “It’ll be an affair for the city’s finest ladies and gentlemen. The New York Philharmonic can play, black-tie only, red carpet, bright lights—” “Justin,” Sebastian said, jarring me from my fantasy. I sighed and faced them again. “Fine. All I ask for is good steak and beer. And blondes. A roomful of blondes.” George raised an eyebrow. “Is that your type?”
“Yes. Preferably with long hair, but short will work if it’s the right cut. They should be or have been or are a soon-to-be-discovered model.” Sebastian snorted. I checked George’s expression, expecting to find smoke coming from her ears, but she had a pen in her hand. She was taking notes. So I continued. “That body type generally works for me—models. Athletic, but not too muscular. Thin and tall. I’ve never been much of a breast or ass man, believe it or not. I like legs.” George nodded, scribbling faster. “What else?” she asked. “Eye color? Hobbies you prefer?” “Blue or green eyes are fine. A sense of style is important to me. If she isn’t a model, she shouldn’t do anything too serious. My material doesn’t tend to go over well with the buttoned-up school-teacher type.” “I have to say, I’m impressed.” George flipped the notebook closed. “It’s refreshing to meet a man who knows exactly what he wants, down to the last detail.” “That’s me,” I said. “Try to get my type as close as possible. It’ll make it easier for me to charm the shit out of someone I’m attracted to.” George smiled, the corner of her mouth twitching. “You got it.” I was coming around to this idea. I didn’t have trouble getting women, but it’d almost been getting a little too easy lately. I was at the prime of my life—I worked out regularly, I made good money, and the magazine had taught me all there was to know about style, charm, and dating. I was actually looking forward to a challenge. When George had left the room, Sebastian shook his head in awe. “How’d you just get her to agree to all that?” I smiled smugly. “I told you. I have a way with women.”
Chapter Two WHEN MY UBER stopped on a dark corner, I double-checked the address George had given me for the party.
This couldn’t be right. We were parked near the East River, not a soul in sight—until I spotted a towering, silhouetted figure waving from the shadows. Sebastian. I straightened my tie and stepped out of the car. This was it, my big debut. “Welcome to your party,” George said, appearing out of nowhere. I turned in a circle, but it didn’t hit me until I heard music coming from the docks—the party was on a boat. “No. You wouldn’t.” “I might’ve forgotten to mention,” Sebastian said. “We decided a booze cruise would be a good icebreaker.” I went limp. My blood ran cold. I turned to George, pleading with her. “Tell me he’s kidding. I get seasick. Like seriously sick.” I looked between the two of them. Sebastian knew I hated feeling unsteady on my feet, which meant he’d chosen a boat on purpose. “That’s not playing fair. You’re trying to sabotage me.” “Don’t be paranoid,” Sebastian said. “It was the only venue we could find on short notice. Besides, we’re not even going out on the water. Too cold.” The boat was lit up from the inside with gold and black streamers and balloons. A poster on an easel out front advertised Debonair’s Singles Soiree. Except for our party, the dock was dark and quiet. Some of the crew stood around to take tickets, bundled in fleece sweaters, gloves, and caps. Who the fuck booked a cruise in the middle of winter? Nobody, that’s who. Sebastian had gone out of his way to fuck with me. But I had no idea how true that was until I stepped inside. “I’ll take credit for the boat,” Sebastian said, sounding more amused than sorry. “But this was all George.” There were short, curvy, suit-wearing brunettes as far as the eye could see. I frantically searched the room for a hint of blonde. Just one strand. The only fair-haired beauty who came into view was the devil herself. George. “What is this?” I asked her. “Exactly what I said it’d be. A singles event devoted to dating outside your type.” “You said this party was for me—that I’d have to convince the woman to like me. Not the other way around.”
She looked up at Sebastian. “We thought it’d be more fun if neither of you were each other’s type.” I took Sebastian by the lapels of his suit jacket. “This was a set up.” He just grinned. “Can you blame me? You were going off about how you could get any girl you set your mind to. I’m just trying to keep things interesting.” I shoved him away and headed for the bar. They followed. “Listen,” George said, hot on my heels. “There’s good news too. I told you I’d pick the girl, but since I’ve hand chosen everyone at this party, you can ask any one of them on a date. It’s up to you.” “Gee,” I grumbled, “thanks a lot.” “We advertised the event as ‘elite singles.’ All the women had to submit applications to be considered, so I have some intel for you.” I whirled on her. “Why should I trust you?” “Because I don’t want the article to be a complete bust. As much as I’d love to see you humbled, I’d rather you have material to work with.” She sidled up next to me and pointed out a taller brunette with a pixie cut. “That one loves dairy. You could bring her a cheese plate.” “Great. I love to kiss a girl right after she’s had Brie.” George looked horrified. “Just to be clear, there will be no kissing. Not tonight. Not during your research. It’s unethical. I’m not condoning you kiss, or, God forbid, sleep with anyone.” “Awesome,” I muttered. Even if my dreams of running around a blonde playground had been dashed, nobody liked when sex was off the table completely. “This night just keeps getting better.” “You’re only supposed to score a date, take her out, and then report back about how it went, good or bad. The women signed releases, so they know they might be included in an article about dating, but not what the piece is about.” I turned to survey the crowd again. I had no idea where to start. Except for a rogue redhead, many of the woman looked similar. “That one in the skirt and blouse is very career-oriented,” George said, then pointed to someone in a dress. “That one hates weddings, but she loves beer.” Sebastian chimed in. “You could take her one as an icebreaker.” “Like I need your help,” I said. “You won’t even admit what’s right in front of your face.” Sebastian returned my glare. He knew I was referring to George, but she just wrinkled her eyebrows, confused. “Never mind,” I said. “Just—get lost. You two are killing my game.” For once, they listened. I thought about ordering a drink, but I was overwhelmed. What I really needed was to gather my thoughts, so I headed for the deck. But as soon as I stepped outside, I regretted it. The rancid smell of the river hit me right as the boat swayed. I was about to turn back inside when I heard raised voices. Near the ship’s bow, the wedding-hater Beer Girl pursed her lips as a man yelled at her. She rolled her eyes and began gesturing wildly as she argued with him. Clearly, this night was not going the way she or I had expected. Maybe that could be a jumping off
point for us. I had to start somewhere. I headed over, peeking at her nametag as I approached. “I’m so sorry I had to sneak off for a minute, Thalia. But I’m back now.” Thalia looked me up and down. “Who—” I put an arm around her shoulder, surprised by how she warmed my side despite the freezing night. “Would you excuse us?” I asked the man. He reddened, most likely embarrassed for acting like an idiot at an event where the only purpose was to impress women. “We were kind of in the middle of something,” he said. “So were we,” I replied. I waited until he’d walked away before I turned to her. She’d ducked out from under my arm and was now gaping at me. She shoved some loose strands of her long black hair behind her ear and whatever she said next, I missed. I was noticing how her dark, smooth skin looked soft enough to rub my cheek against. She wasn’t tall at all but short with curves. The way she pulled at the hem of her dress, as if she didn’t want me staring at her legs, made me smile. “Hello?” she asked. “Did you hear anything I just said?” “Oh. Yeah.” I looked up. “You’re welcome.” “For what?” “For saving you. I could tell you weren’t into him.” “I don’t need saving. And you’re wrong. We were having a nice conversation.” “You were yelling at each other.” “We were having a heated debate about the country’s tumultuous political landscape.” I stared at her. Huh? What sane person liked arguing? George had really gone above and beyond with this group. “Sorry,” I said, raising a hand. “I thought I was helping, but I guess I was mistaken.” “Yes, you were. And it’s Thalia. Tall-eee-uh. Not thhhhall-eee-uh.” She was steaming mad, but I couldn’t stop thinking how cute she was with her button nose and a generous rack she’d tried to hide under a blazer. “Bacon-wrapped scallops?” I heard from behind me. We both turned to the server as the boat lilted. He stumbled, almost sending appetizers overboard. My stomach lurched too and the thought of rubbery seafood didn’t help. Of course George had arranged my least favorite food to make me even more sick than I already felt. Thalia popped one in her mouth. “Thanks. I was just leaving.” “Hang on,” I said. “Let me make it up you with a Blue Moon.” I pulled out my most charming smile, crooking one corner of my mouth. “You look like a beer girl.” “I look like what?” “Like you appreciate beer.” She reeled back slowly, menacingly. “Are you implying I have a beer gut?” Shit shit shit. Danger. Danger! My eyes traveled down to her small waist. She had hips and an ass
but a stomach that was flat as could be. Suddenly, I realized my mistake. To her, it probably seemed as though I was checking for a gut. When I looked up again, her face had turned red. “No,” I said, which is what I should’ve said right away. “Not at all. You have a beautiful body—” “Oh my God.” She covered her face with one hand. “Just walk away now.” “But—” “Then I will.” She brushed past me. I turned to go after her, but her ass stopped me cold. As she walked away, it literally swayed. Walk wasn’t even the right word. The woman might not’ve been my type, but damn if she didn’t strut off as if she knew she anyone, even me, would be lucky to have her. It made me wonder if she was strutting her way right back to the other guy. “Seasick,” I called out. She stopped. “What?” The boat rocked, and I grabbed the railing as my brain swished in the opposite direction. “It’s the rocking. It made me say those things.” She turned around. “How many drinks have you had?” Even though I’d eaten lunch hours ago, it made its way up my throat. I’d had zero drinks, and maybe that was the problem. Perhaps getting drunk would override the motion-sickness portion of my brain. “None,” I said. “It’s—I . . . I don’t feel well. I get motion sickness. I’m a little off kilter. That’s why I put my foot in my mouth.” She slow-blinked at me. “Well . . . there’s one I haven’t heard before,” she said. “You get points for creativity.” Points were good. She looked about to laugh—that was good too. We were making progress. My confidence boosted, I gave her my legendary, dashing smile. “So—” “Seasick,” she muttered as she turned away. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” What . . . the . . . fuck? I hadn’t bombed this badly since—I didn’t even know when. I was born a natural player. I started to go after her, but when the boat rocked and nearly knocked me on my ass, I latched onto the railing. How were people just milling around, unconcerned that the ground moved under their feet? I couldn’t pry my hands from the railing, so I called after her. “Yes, I messed up your name, but at least I tried. You’re blowing me off because of a couple stupid misunderstandings?” Again, she stopped and looked back. “You have to admit, you didn’t start off on the best foot.” “And I apologize for that.” She thought a moment. “Apology accepted.” “Great. So can I buy you a drink? Anything but beer?” “Look, uh . . . Jeremy.” I frowned. “It’s Justin.” “Right. Justin. It was—interesting—talking to you,” she said. “I can tell you’re a nice guy. You could
even be charming in a weird, bumbling-idiot way. But the truth is, you’re not my type. Which would be fine, except that this is an elite singles event. I’m here to find a partner in life, and you’re just making jokes.” “It’s what I do,” I said defensively, smarting from essentially being called a cute moron. “It’s part of my charm.” “And I’m sure many girls here appreciate it. But it’s not the kind of guy I go for. I want someone serious who’s looking for something serious. We both know it’s not you. So if you don’t mind . . .” The pitiful look she gave me before walking away did not help my ego. She’d spelled it out, clear as day. I wasn’t her type. She wasn’t mine. That was the exact reason I was even standing in this spot, but it didn’t take the sting out of her rejection.
Chapter Three WE WERE ALL going to die.
After Thalia had stomped on my heart and strutted off, I’d gone straight for the bar. I was only a beer in, hunting for any food that wasn’t seafood, when the boat rocked so hard, it nearly tipped right over. I panicked. Flailed. I grabbed for the nearest table, yanking the tablecloth off and sending platters of twohour-old crustaceans all over the floor. My legs wobbled, and my mind spun. The beer I’d just chugged threatened to come back up. “Overboard,” I yelled. “Get the life vests. Woman and children first!” “What the—” “What’s happening?” I asked the bartender. “Are we capsizing? Is this the end?” In the distance, I heard a familiar laugh. Sebastian. “Relax, man. It’s just a passing boat. It made some waves.” He sounded miles away. “But . . .” I croaked as my world flipped upside down. “I can’t. . . I need—” “What’s wrong with him?” a female voice asked. “He’s seasick,” George answered. “Seriously?” The lights were too bright. The ground too hard. Somehow, I’d fallen to my knees. “Bathroom.” “Oh, shit,” Sebastian muttered, no longer jeering. “He’s gonna blow.” I stumbled to my feet and staggered toward the light. “Go left,” someone screamed. “No, the men’s bathroom is on the other side.” “Go right!” “Clear the premises!” A gentle hand landed on my bicep and steered me sideways. I heaved. I wouldn’t be able to keep it in much longer. The boat pitched forward and backward, and I nearly tripped, but the angelic touch guided me along. When the men’s bathroom came into sight, I nearly vomited with relief. I managed to burst in and fall over the toilet moments before I emptied the contents of my stomach—mostly beer. Someone rubbed my back, and it felt like coming home after a long day of work. It was nice. Comfortable. I hoped to hell it wasn’t fucking Sebastian. Best friend or not, I’d never be able to look at him the same if he’d touched me any way that could be considered loving. I blinked a few times and looked over my shoulder. A fluorescent overhead light turned the angel above into a silhouette. I squinted, trying to focus.
“Are you okay?” she asked, although it sounded more like a song than a question. A choir of nightingales harmonized in the distance. “Is this heaven?” I asked. She moved enough for me to see her. Thalia. By the concern written on her face, mine must’ve been green. That’d explain why she was being nice to me. I was a man in an expensive suit, keeled over in a bathroom stall that smelled of puke—because of me. George and Sebastian were probably laughing their asses off out there, rooting for me to fail. When Thalia realized she was still stroking my shoulder, she pulled her hand back. “I’ll get you some water.” Another wave hit me, and I resumed my position over the porcelain throne. Thalia must’ve had a concrete stomach, because she didn’t move an inch away. She waited until I’d finished, soothing me like I was a small child. “Thalia?” I croaked. “What’s wrong?” She held out balled-up toilet paper. “What can I do?” I wiped my mouth and looked up at her. “Go out with me.” “Excuse me?” “On a date.” “I—you’re . . . I don’t think this is really the time.” “We don’t have to go now,” I said. “I was hoping to get a shower in first.” “You know what I mean.” She straightened up. “Wait. Are you even really seasick, or was this some elaborate ploy to get me alone?” Her question hung in the air along with the stench. Disrupting her earlier conversation, making up an illness, vomiting in front of her . . . on purpose? At the same moment, we both smiled. “I guess that’s a little ridiculous,” she said. “So is that a yes?” She looked away. “Look, I’m sorry, but I meant what I said earlier. You’re just not my type.” “You don’t know that. You don’t even know me.” “I have an instinct about these things.” “We’ve already been to the toilet together. You can’t just walk away from that.” She pursed her lips—to keep in a laugh, I was fairly sure. “God, you’re persistent,” she said. “Fine. We can do something casual, just to get to know each other.” “Dinner tomorrow night.” “What makes you think you’re worthy of a Friday night?” Touché. Certainly it took more than what I’d done tonight to get a girl to dinner on a weekend—not being ill in front of her, for instance. “Lunch?” I asked. “I can come by your work tomorrow.” “That’s not even twenty-four-hours’ notice . . . and are we really at the level to bring co-workers into
this?” She had no idea how at-that-level we were. “Sunday. Brunch. It doesn’t get more sexless than brunch.” Finally, finally, she smiled. “It’s a date.” I tried not to worry that she looked so happy about the word sexless.
Chapter Four EVEN THOUGH WE were walking, I picked Thalia up for our date. I wasn’t a monster, after all. I wasn’t sure
I was a gentleman, either, but I’d interviewed enough of them to know how to fake it. So I’d called her to get her address, even though I already knew it. Stalker status? Definitely. That wasn’t all I knew about Thalia Soto. After fifteen minutes of reaming out Sebastian and George, I’d made them feel guilty enough to hand over Thalia’s information. Every woman in attendance Thursday night had submitted a survey. Apparently, George had painstakingly gone over hundreds of applicants in order to whittle it down to thirty or so who weren’t my type. Thanks, George. Real good of you to take the time. Thalia had Dominican roots, but was born in the Bronx. She had a taste for spicy food. I couldn’t stomach it, and Sebastian knew it. She liked wine. I preferred beer. Her favorite childhood memory was ice-skating with her dad. I didn’t partake in any activity where the ground wasn’t solid under my feet. I should’ve guessed it based on George’s bogus intel that Thalia hated weddings, but Thalia was a wedding planner. I had no intention of ever walking down the aisle. Thalia exited her apartment building looking as skeptical as I felt. Great start. “Morning,” I said and instinctively went to kiss her cheek. She started to pull away but stopped. When I was close enough to peck her, I inhaled peppermint. “Have you been sucking on a candy cane?” I asked. She arched a pretty, dark brow at me. “Altoids.” “Mints? It’s freezing balls out here.” “So?” She reached into her purse, pulled out a tin, and popped the lid. “Want one?” The only time I ever popped mints or gum preceded a make out session. Maybe this date was already turning out better than I’d thought. “Angling for a kiss?” I asked. She snapped the lid shut just as I went in for a mint. “Hey.” “It’s not that I don’t appreciate a sense of humor,” she said, “but it can’t be twenty-four seven. I need you to take this seriously.” Ah, yes. Applicants to the elite singles event were given ten qualities in a partner to rank. Thalia had listed sense of humor as number nine, right above style. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending how you looked at it—being a smartly-dressed, side-splitting chap had gotten me pretty far in the way of sex. I wasn’t sure what it said about Thalia that she didn’t care about those things—except that we wouldn’t be laughing our way down a runway anytime soon. “I’m sort of known for my humor.”
“Great. Humor’s important. Just not when it’s a mask for other things.” I gestured for her to walk. “I’m not sure why I can’t make a joke and also be genuine.” “When humor’s used as a defense mechanism, it just makes me want to know what you—what someone—might be defending.” “In my case, a joke is just a joke.” She inhaled through her nose, her chest expanding. “All right then. I guess we can just try to have fun today.” I stopped walking. “As opposed to what?” “Most people use first dates to get the important stuff out of the way so they can decide whether a second date is worth it. But I have a feeling you won’t be interested in discussing any of that.” “You mean marriage? Kids? Career? That sort of thing?” “Exactly.” Thalia desperately needed to have fun, even if she was hell bent against it. And I desperately needed a drink. I put a hand on her lower back and continued walking us toward the restaurant where Bellinis waited. “I want two,” I said. “Kids?” “Wives,” I joked. She gave me a look. I held up the hand that wasn’t touching her. “Sorry. I’ll behave. Two kids.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. If I were going to take a wife and then get to the kids part, two sounded good to me. One boy, one girl. Fair. Easy. But to say I wanted to get married would’ve been a lie. Good thing she didn’t ask. “I like that number,” she said. “Then we agree on something.” That was about all we had in common, we discovered during our walk to the restaurant. She grew up fast in the Bronx. I came from pampered suburbs outside of Boston. Once I’d gotten a glimpse of the big city, I’d said “so long” to my roots. She’d gradually migrated down until she’d found her first job in midtown. While we waited to be seated, Thalia unwrapped her scarf. Her hair static-clung to the fabric. Without thinking, I smoothed it down. There was a lot of it, her hair, and it was softer than any I’d ever encountered. I didn’t want to take my hand away, so I cupped it around the back of her neck. “Warm?” “No,” she said. “I was going to wrap it tighter.” The sun broke through the clouds for the first time that day. I’d noticed many things the other night—the curves that made her strut, her cute little nose, her ample rack. But until then, I hadn’t yet appreciated the warm, chocolate color of her eyes. They weren’t quite brown, but a golden, in-between color. I was staring into them when her words sank in. She was cold, not warm. I needed to remove my hand so she could put her scarf back on.
“Are you okay?” she asked. Was I okay? I hadn’t expected much from today, but we’d barely been together an hour, and I already had the urge to kiss her. And then, fucking George got in my head. “Just to be clear, there will be no kissing. Not tonight. Not during your research. It’s unethical.” Ethics hadn’t much stopped me before. What was my hesitation? Thalia didn’t seem like the kind of chick who kissed in the first hour of a date. More like the final hour of the tenth date. Before I could decide what to do, a familiar voice interrupted us. “Justin Kerrigan? What the hell are you doing out here in the cold?” At some point, I must’ve leaned in to Thalia. My eyes had been focused on her mouth. Before I looked away, I caught her gaze and saw . . . what? Fear? Anticipation? Holding out a hand to me was Graham, the owner of the brunch spot. I shook it. “You going to seat me and my girl before we freeze our asses off?” “I told you, anytime you come, just mention the magazine. You’ll get right in. Anytime.” He waved down the hostess. “Get these two a table.” Dropping names had become second nature for me since working at Debonair, but I hadn’t even noticed how long we’d been waiting. Thalia might frustrate me, but it was becoming clear she also kept me on my toes. Graham turned as he led us to a table. “Long night?” “Nah,” I said. “I stayed in.” “On a Saturday?” Graham asked, sounding unreasonably surprised. I looked nervously at Thalia, unsure how she’d react to hearing his shock. “I wasn’t feeling too well. Motion sickness.” It was the truth. The boat incident had been so potent, I’d been laid up until last night. I’d spent yesterday on the couch, catching up on Billions. Come to think of it, it hadn’t been so bad staying in. I hadn’t had to worry about dressing up, VIP entrances, bottle service. Maybe I was getting old. Sebastian, a few years older than me, had mostly bowed out of the scene already. “Were you on another boat?” Thalia asked. “No,” I said. “Actually, I’ve got this weird thing—” Graham stopped abruptly, showing us our table. “Best spot in the place. Tell Frank we miss him. He’s always welcome, s’long as he keeps writing those rave reviews.” I nodded as I pulled out Thalia’s chair. “Will do, Graham.” Once we were seated, Thalia opened her menu, closed it, and set it down. “Your thing is weird?” “Huh?” “You said you had a weird thing.” “I didn’t say I had a weird thing. I meant I’ve got a weird thing about not feeling steady. When the earth under my feet moves, I panic.” “I don’t understand.”
“Boats, for instance. They’re unstable. Unpredictable. Same with elevators. Earthquakes. Skateboards. Anything where the ground isn’t solid. It’s not a crippling fear—I have to take an elevator up forty-two floors to work every morning.” I made the sign of the cross. “But I don’t enjoy it.” “That’s strange.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you pulling my leg again?” “When did I pull it the first time?” Okay. I supposed it sounded like a joke, and maybe I was better off letting her think that. It was an embarrassing fear to have. Why couldn’t I be afraid of spiders or aliens or Chuck Norris like a regular man? Well, let’s be honest. If I ran into Norris on the street, I’d get the fuck outta there before I gave him a reason to kick my ass. Thalia opened her menu again, and again, she closed it, setting it in front of her. “Also, what magazine?” Shit. I was worried this was would come up. George had even coached me on how to answer. I buried my nose in the breakfast section of my menu. “Sorry?” “Do you work for Debonair?” I nodded. “Then were you on the boat to work or find a date?” Finally, a question I could answer honestly. “Both.” “Justin.” She pulled on my menu so I was forced to meet her eyes. With a sigh, I set it down. I wasn’t going to lie, even though George had warned me the truth would send Thalia running for the hills. I was many things, and I could dance around the truth with the best of them, but lying? It took all the fun out of the game. “I was there researching an article about how to get a date.” She sat back in the booth, and I leaned my elbows on the table. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention it.” “This,” she gestured between us, “is for the article?” I drummed my fingers on the table. The complicated truth was: Yes, but I was enjoying myself. Yes, but this was also a real date. Yes, but I didn’t want her to go. I gave her the easy answer. “Yes.” She looked surprised. “I’m sorry. If you recall, you signed a consent form—” “I know. I thought it was a formality.” “I should’ve told you, but it kind of would’ve compromised the article.” “So why are you telling me now?” “You asked.” She also stuck her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “Didn’t you almost kiss me earlier?” “Maybe.” “Was that for the article?”
“No. I mean, I might say we kissed so the guys don’t think I’m a chump. If they know I chickened out, I’ll never hear the end of it.” It was a joke, but I half expected her to stand and slap me. Instead, she smiled. “And here I thought you had some integrity.” “Not that much.” Somehow, we were physically getting closer to each other. “Are you going to leave?” “I’m not sure yet. I’m intrigued by the fact that you told me the truth when you could’ve lied.” Interesting. A girl who valued honesty, like me. “I don’t think you should leave.” “Why not?” “I have something special lined up for after brunch.” She tilted her head. “I didn’t know this was a two-parter.” “It is. And I think you’ll like what I planned.” She reopened her menu and ordered huevos rancheros with green tomatillo salsa. I got pancakes with whipped cream. She tried to pay her half of the bill, but stopped insisting once I told her I’d expense it. “I guess there has to be some perks to this,” she said. “Besides spending the afternoon with a handsome suitor?” She rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time, but I could tell—she was coming around to the humor.
I HAD MUCH more to learn about Thalia, including: she wasn’t good with surprises.
“Are you taking me to a comedy show?” she asked in the cab as we left the restaurant. “Too obvious.” “Carriage ride through Central Park?” “Too cliché.” “Thrifting in Williamsburg?” “Gag me.” She sat back in her seat with a huff. “Just tell me.” “We’re almost there. You’ll see for yourself.” “Do you take all your dates here?” I looked over at her. Her shoulders were nearly up to her ears. “Would you care if I did?” “No,” she said. “It’s just nice to make your date feel special.” I leaned between the two front seats and pointed to a pen and paper. “You mind?” I asked the driver. He handed them to me, and I began to write. “What’re you doing?” she asked. “Just didn’t want to forget that,” I said. Under my breath, I read my note back. “‘Make your date feel special.’”
“Come on.” “No, it’s good advice.” I tore off the top page and folded it into my pocket. “Not sure how I’ve worked at a men’s magazine and written monthly articles with dating advice for years, and it never occurred to me to make a girl feel special.” She shoved me, hard enough to move me away. Laughing, I reached out and massaged her shoulder. Having a tense date made me tense. “Don’t you trust me?” “Not even a little,” she said, but she relaxed under my hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve chosen this just for you.” It was true. I’d never have selected ice-skating if I weren’t doing it for the article, but as we neared Rockefeller Center, I became more excited to see the expression on her face when she figured out my plan. I hoped for a big smile. Maybe even a little excited bouncing. I’d have been happy with a round of applause. What I didn’t expect was tears. Standing outside The Rink at Rockefeller Center, Thalia sobbed into her palms. “I hammer tennis this is bread.” “Huh?” “I hammer tennis this is bread.” I peeled her hands from her face. “I can’t understand you.” “I haven’t,” she hiccupped, “done this since his death.” I widened my eyes. “Who died?” “My dad. Last year. He used to take me skating as a kid.” With red-rimmed eyes, she finally looked at the rink. “I used to come every winter, at least two or three times. But I haven’t been able to since . . .” “His death.” Fuck. So much for a winning date. “I’m so sorry. I thought this was romantic and something you’d like.” “It is. I do. I just . . . can’t.” I should’ve been relieved. No part of me wanted to lace on a pair of death-mobiles. Whoever’d thought to themselves—I’ll create a shoe that’s hard to balance on and has a blade on bottom!—was a sick motherfucker. But seeing Thalia’s cool exterior crack, I felt bad for making her cry. I thought a happy memory would make her smile. “Maybe it’s time to get back out there,” I said. She wiped her eyes, smearing mascara onto her cheek. “You sound like an inspirational poster.” “Well, those things are annoying as fuck for a reason. They’re usually right.” She sniffled. “I thought you were afraid of unsteady things.” “Terrified.” “But you still planned this for me?” I shrugged. “We don’t have to do it. To be honest, I’d rather we didn’t, but . . .” I reached up slowly,
and when she didn’t stop me, I thumbed her cheek, erasing the makeup she’d smeared. “Don’t you think your dad would want you to?” With a sigh and a slight hesitation, she nodded. “If it makes you feel better, we can hold hands.” Her sadness cleared. She even smiled. “Hmm. By any chance, would the hand-holding be to make you feel better?” Already, she was reading my thoughts.
Chapter Five THIS WAS A first.
I’d never approached my apartment with a beautiful woman by my side and shown anything less than raring-to-go enthusiasm. Until Thalia. Two things had brought us to my doorstep. The first was that I’d manned up and gone ice-skating. And within ten minutes, I’d managed to fall flat on my face and bust my lip. Ironically, Thalia dragged me off the ice to find ice for my face. That might’ve been the end of our date, except that I hadn’t been ready to say goodbye. For this woman, I’d humiliated myself—more than once. I’d watched her eat a scallop. I’d strapped on deathmobiles and earned myself a fat lip. So as she’d iced my lip, the second thing to lead us to my doorstep occurred: she agreed to have a drink with me. (Probably out of pity.) One drink turned into three or four, and now, she waited while I searched my pockets for my keys. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her there. I did. But my goddamn conscience nagged at me. Was this ethical? She knew about the article, and she’d still agreed to come over. Why should I try to talk her out of it? Sure, she was tipsy. So was I. But at the bar, I’d asked her three different times if she was sure she wanted to come home with me. Every answer she gave me was some version of “Why not, if we’re just having fun?” So here we stood. As I unlocked the door, I gave it one last shot. “Are you sure you want to do this? We don’t have to. I don’t expect anything of you.” “Justin.” My name came with what was becoming her signature eye roll. She steadied herself on my arm and looked around the hall before leaning in. “I’ve never had a one-night stand.” Normally, I would’ve been proud hearing that. I was too hot to resist—a sex god, and we hadn’t even undressed. Tonight, though, a pit of doubt formed in my stomach. Was I taking advantage of her? Why did I care all of a sudden? She waltzed into my apartment as if she owned it, shrugging out of her coat and scarf to toss them on the couch. “Wow,” she said, looking around my fourth floor, two-bedroom apartment. I could’ve afforded a higher floor, but this way, I could still use the stairs without death by overexertion. “You must really be somebody at that magazine.” It was a nice place, especially by New York City standards. A consolation prize from my dad for putting me through a brutal divorce as a teen. “Are you going to give me a tour?” Thalia asked, and her voice took on a new, huskier tone. “That’s the only thing worth seeing,” I said, pointing to the bar I’d installed after moving in. There
must’ve been twenty different brands of liquor on my shelf. Word had gotten out last year when I’d been researching a comprehensive list of alcohol every man should have at home. Thalia didn’t even turn around. “I want the full tour. Every . . . square . . . inch.” “Ah. Okay.” I wiped my brow. I wasn’t dense; I knew what she was getting at. I led her down the hall. It wasn’t a big apartment, so right away, we were in the master. I turned up the dimmer just enough to make the space glow. “This is where I sleep. Not much to see.” She walked into the room, turned, and lifted the hem of her top to bare her flat stomach to me. Slowly, she dragged the fabric up to her nude, lacy bra. My mouth watered. Her tits were big enough to fill my hands and then some. She pulled the blouse over her head, then undid the button of her jeans and shimmied out of them. Before I knew it, she stood there in just her undergarments. I did a double take at her thong, neon orange with miniature zebras printed on it. “Sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to go home with you.” I couldn’t help it—I laughed. She laughed too. “Do zebras do it for you?” I asked. “I could ask you the same thing,” she said, dropping her eyes to my crotch. Fuck. I was hard—and I was caught. “Thalia, I don’t know if we should do this.” She crossed the room toward me. I backed up. The closer she got, the harder it’d be for me to turn her down. “Why not?” “You’ve been drinking. I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’ve never even had a one-night stand.” “Who better to break me in?” she asked. Oh, God. I was doomed. By that point, she had me backed up against a wall. Without her boots, she barely came up to my chest, and I had to incline my head to look down at her. “You don’t want me?” she asked softly. “I do.” “So take me.” My heart thudded in my chest. My pants were too tight to ignore. If she wanted to be broken in, to be taken, I was her man. In one movement, I hoisted her up by the waist. Her legs clamped around my middle as our mouths collided. I slid my hand down her round ass and pushed my fingers into her underwear from behind, teasing her soft, inviting lips. “Justin,” she moaned. I’d heard my name moaned lots of time, but never like that. It was a kind of music coming from her mouth. She squirmed on me as if she couldn’t wait another second. Without warning, I plunged two fingers into her heat, and she pulled back from my mouth, gasping. “Too fast?” I asked, curling my fingers inside her. “Yes. No. Don’t stop. God, I’ve never . . .” “What?” I asked, hearing the growl in my voice. I wanted to hear all the things I was the first to do to
her. “Fucked standing up?” She hissed. “I’ve never had anyone touch me so . . . greedily. So fast. So impolite.” I half-laughed, half-sneered. When it came to fucking, there was no room for polite. If that was what she was used to, I was about to show her a new, better way. I walked us forward to drop her back on the mattress. In my nightstand drawer, I found a condom and stuck it in my mouth to undo my pants. “Want me to slow down?” Her black hair fanned around her as she looked up at me from the bed. She answered by sliding those miniature zebras down her legs and flinging them away. Her eyes followed my hands as I unbuttoned my dress shirt, tossed it aside, then removed my pants and underwear. As she looked me over, her bottom lip found its way between her teeth. I knew instinctively it’d be an image I’d never forget. I rolled the condom on without taking my eyes off her. “Show me.” “Show you what?” she asked, but by the tremor in her voice and the way her eyes darted away, she understood what I meant. When I didn’t answer, she lifted her feet onto the bed and bared herself to me. I kneeled before her, partly in worship—but mostly to eat her pussy like it’d never been eaten before. “What are you doing?” she breathed as I parted her knees. I attached my mouth to her—gorging on her, lapping her up, tasting her. She bucked her hips off the mattress, plunged her fingers into my hair. When her thighs shook around my head, I stopped. I wanted her to come apart with me inside her. I crawled up the bed and kissed her while lining my dick up with her entrance. Her legs continued to shake, and it traveled up her body. I had planned to go fast, but seeing how open and vulnerable she was, I slowed down. She took short, shallow breaths as I eased into her. I pulled down a cup of her bra and gently tugged her nipple between fingers. “It’s too much,” she moaned. “It’s like you can’t wait for me to come.” “I can’t,” I agreed, sliding out of her just enough to push in deeper. She gasped up at the ceiling, arching her back and filling my hand with her breast. I sensed she was close, so I propped myself on my arms and gave it to her harder. I didn’t even blink, afraid I’d miss her expression as she came. Her neck and cheeks flushed pink, her tits rose and fell faster with each inhale. She trembled underneath me, fisting the sheets. As soon she began to clench around my cock, I released my last shred of patience and sat back on my knees, bringing her with me. I lifted her hips and pulled her onto me fast and unrelenting. Just as I was about to come, she reached out to me. I pulled her up by her arm so she was seated on my lap. “I’m gonna come,” I panted. “I know.” She put her hands on my shoulders and took over, swiveling her hips around and around, riding my cock like it was a lever that’d open the doors to heaven. I had nowhere to look but at her, all bouncing tits, parted lips, and half-lidded eyes that were as warm and smooth as melted chocolate.
I kissed her. Hard. I made love to her mouth while she had her way with me, until my balls tightened, my muscles tensed, my dick throbbed. I thrust my hand into her hair and pulled as we both came. Winded, we fell back onto the bed, side by side, staring up at the ceiling. “Holy shit,” she said. “That’s the only thing I can think to say.” “Yeah,” I agreed. “Yeah? That’s it? No jokes?” I took her hand. “No jokes.” “What now?” “You stay the night.” “That feels . . . serious. This isn’t serious.” I realized then that I wasn’t as opposed to serious as I thought I’d be. I just wasn’t used to dating girls who were more interested in me than what I did or what I could give them. “Maybe it could be.” A small smile fought its way on to her face. “All right, Justin Kerrigan. I’m not convinced you can do serious, but I’m willing to see if you can cut the crap.” “Good. Totally unrelated to crap, I’m going to use the bathroom.” “Eww.” Thalia covered her face and rolled over onto her stomach. “We were having an intimate moment.” “You’re the one who said crap.” I grinned, getting off the bed. “You’ll come around to the humor, babe. One day, you might even like it.” I went into the bathroom with a smile on my face. It wasn’t lost on me that I’d said one day. Thalia and I had each done a one-eighty. I was open to the idea of exploring things with her, even though she wasn’t my normal type. And she hadn’t laughed in my face when I’d suggested more, even if she had her doubts about me. When I returned to the bedroom, she’d turned the lights all the way up, and it took my eyes a moment to adjust. She stood by my desk, and the look on her face turned me cold. “What is this?” she asked, holding up a file. Her file. In it was her application to the singles event. “It’s for the article—the one you knew I was writing.” “You didn’t tell me you’d researched me beforehand.” I took a step toward her. “It’s not what you think. George and Sebastian threw that event just for me. They filled the boat with women they didn’t think would ever go out with me. My assignment was to convince you to take a chance on me.” She frowned. “That’s stupid, Justin.” “It does sound stupid when I say it aloud. But that’s what we do. We put ourselves in random, unlikely situations and then write about it.” She waved the folder. “So this is why you took me ice-skating?” she asked. “Because I wrote it on here?”
“I wanted to do something you’d enjoy. I won’t apologize for trying to make you happy.” “What about this?” She gestured between us. “Were you going to write about what we just did?” I pulled back. “Of course not. I’d never—I wouldn’t do something like that.” “How do I know?” she asked. Feeling suddenly exposed, I picked my boxer briefs up from the floor and pulled them on. “I guess you’ll have to ask yourself that,” I said. “Do you believe me that this was more than just an article? That I would never take advantage of you that way?” She looked at the ground. After a moment, she shook her head, and my heart fell. “I don’t know why, but I do believe you,” she said. “I trust that today started out differently for you than it ended, because it did for me.” Relief filtered through me. “Good. Then come over here and let me show you how sorry I am.” Then, she turned the sheet over. At the same moment she noticed my handwriting, I remembered. The night I’d gotten home from the singles event, still nauseous, I’d scribbled notes on the back of the application so I wouldn’t forget anything for the article. Thalia’s nostrils flared as her eyes darted over it. “‘Reasons Thalia is not my type,’” she read. “Thalia, listen—” “‘Number one. She’s brunette and curvy.’” She looked up, her eyes watering. “You superficial prick.” “It’s not like that. You don’t understand. I normally date tall, blonde models—” I stopped myself before she could, cringing at my shitty attempt at an explanation. “Do you have any idea how it feels to read that? I was just naked with you,” she said. “Were you thinking about models then?” “God, no.” I ran a hand through my hair. “The only thing I was thinking about was you. How beautiful and sensual—” Her expression soured as she continued down the list. “‘She takes herself too seriously. Hates humor.’” The sheet shook in her hand. “Please stop reading.” “‘She likes spicy food and wine.” She crumpled up the paper and dropped it on the ground. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I tried to think up a response, but hearing her curse shut me right up. “You’d not date me because I like spicy food? Who does that?” “I’m trying to tell you—the article went both ways. I was supposed to date someone who wouldn’t typically go for me, and also someone who wasn’t—typically—my type. George was in charge of picking the women, but I picked you. Out of all the women there.” “Lucky me,” she mumbled. “I need to get dressed.” “Okay, but first, I want you to understand—” “Please go. Now.”
With my tail between my legs, I left the room. I stood by the front door trying to come up with an explanation that would make her see that I cared about her—that none of this mattered. When she came out, I said, “I won’t publish the article.” “The article isn’t the problem. It’s that you made a list in the first place—that you actually thought up those reasons not to date someone. Where’s my coat?” I got it from the couch along with her scarf and returned to the door. “Thalia, please.” “I should’ve guessed this would happen,” she said, calmer. “You do have a point. We aren’t right for each other.” “But the purpose of the article was to see if it’s possible, a good idea even, to date outside a person’s usual type. And yesterday, I would’ve said no, but now? I want to try.” She tried to take her things from me, but I wouldn’t give them to her. “I can’t be with someone so petty,” she said. “Maybe it’s because I lack a sense of humor like you think—” “I was wrong about that. You just take longer to warm up to—” “Give me my things. I’m doing us both a favor. This wouldn’t have lasted two weeks.” I had no idea what else to do. I’d never been in a situation like this, trying to prove myself to a woman. Especially one who I shouldn’t have ended up with, one who shouldn’t have ended up with me. Maybe she was right. I handed over the coat and scarf. She didn’t even put them on before storming out.
Chapter Six WITH BATED BREATH, I stood in Sebastian’s office, waiting for George to say something. Sebastian had
already read my article, and he was sitting at his desk, looking out the window. No reaction. “I know it’s not what you asked for,” I said. “No, it’s not,” George said. “But I can’t write what we originally agreed upon. Not after spending time with Thalia.” George narrowed her eyes at me. “You idiot.” “Uh. Okay. I deserve that.” Now was about the time Sebastian would chime in with his own jab, but he didn’t even flinch. George dropped my article onto the desk. It was a true account about how I’d fucked up something really good and would now spend Valentine’s Day alone. “I told you not to tell her about the assignment.” “I had to.” “I told you not to sleep with her.” For that, I had no real argument. Just one. “I tried not to.” “You have to get her back.” I blinked from her to Sebastian and back. “What?” “It’s been a week. She’s had time to cool off. Go to her, tell her you’re sorry, and find a way to make it right.” I cocked my head. “You’re not mad?” “Not about the article. Just that you can’t seem to be an adult about anything.” “You’re wrong. The mature thing to do is to let her go. We’re different. She wants to settle down with the whole shebang—wedding, kids, house. I’ve never wanted those things.” “You will,” Sebastian said finally. “You’ll want those things with the right girl. Trust me. And what if that’s Thalia?” Traitor. Seb and I went way back. We knew a lot about each other. We didn’t have many heart-tohearts, but when it came down to it, I trusted his advice came from a good place. “You think I messed up?” “Not yet. But left to your own devices, you will. Walking away would be a mistake, so listen to George, would you? When it comes to women, she’s the brains around here. You and I? We don’t know shit.”
ROMANTIC MOVIES ALWAYS end with a wedding, and it looked as though in my case, reality would imitate
fiction. Only, I hoped my fairy tale would start tonight—not end. Four weeks had passed since Thalia had stormed out of my apartment. Rolled up in my hand was our story. It only spanned three pages of Debonair’s Valentine’s Day issue, but it packed a punch. At least, I hoped it would for Thalia. Maybe in four weeks, she’d already forgotten about me, but I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head. So I was doing it George’s way. I scanned the ballroom. The wedding didn’t start for another four hours, but there were people everywhere setting up tables, music equipment, polishing glasses. I heard her before I saw her, bossing around three huge men with just a clipboard in her hand. Once they scattered to execute whatever orders she’d barked at him, she rolled her eyes. Typical Thalia. And then, her gaze landed on me. I went to her. “How’d you find me?” she asked. “I called your office. The number was on your application.” “It couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” “No.” I unfurled the Valentine’s Day issue and showed it to her. On the cover, amongst the bolded headlines, was one that read “Features Editor Justin Kerrigan Screws Up Yet Again.” Sebastian thought that up, of course. “I wrote about us. I wasn’t going to, because I was worried you’d be upset, but I think if you read it, you’ll understand.” She stared at me. I couldn’t tell if she was pissed off, considering my plea, or thinking about what to make for dinner. The silence stretched so long between us, I finally just thrust the magazine at her. “Please. All I ask is that you read it. You don’t have to respond if you don’t want. I just had to show you it before you heard it from someone else or walked by a newsstand or—” She took the magazine. “Then you should’ve found me a few hours ago.” “What?” “I already read it. Some guy, Sebastian—he messengered it to me this morning with a note about how you’re not as bad as you seem. ‘Just a little bad,’ I think is what it said.” Sebastian. That meddling fucker. I couldn’t help my smile. “So? What’d you think?” “Was it all true, or was it just flash for the article?” “All true.” “The part about how you fell for me while trying to figure out the color of my eyes?” “True.”
“Or how you wouldn’t have made that second lap around the ice skating rink if I’d been anyone else? That doesn’t sound like you.” “I know. It isn’t. Just with you.” I took a deep breath. “I meant it all. You’re not my type. But you’ve admitted I’m not yours, either. I think that makes our story all the more sweet. Don’t you?” She twisted her lips. I read her skepticism loud and clear, so I continued my attempt to convince her I deserved a second chance. “Maybe giving this a try would be a mistake. My humor won’t always sit well with you. But maybe sometimes, I’ll make you laugh. I’m up to the challenge. And one day, you might get your way, and there might be a wedding. And a baby.” “Two,” she said. My heart was pounding. She wasn’t screaming at me to get out. “Two weddings?” I joked. She rolled her eyes, and I took a chance. I grasped her elbow and pulled her to me. She didn’t push me away. In fact, she melted against me as I wrapped my arms around her. “Two babies,” she clarified. “Are you really ready for that?” “If I can handle two wives, I think so. The question is, are you ready for it?” She rose onto the tips of her toes and brushed her nose against mine. “I’m pretty sure if I can handle you, I can handle anything.” With my article in her hand squished between us, I lowered my head and sealed the deal with a kiss.
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A Very Locklaine Valentine
by Jessica Prince
Chapter One
Richard
I SMILED AS Delilah’s warm breath tickled the shell of my ear. “Mmm, morning baby,” I mumbled sleepily,
as I tilted my head to the side to give her better access. Her tongue darted out and licked up the vein in my neck, sending tingles shooting through my body. “Oh, you’re in the mood to play, huh? Are you a naughty girl?” Her giggle—coming all the way from the other side of the bedroom—made my eyelids shoot open. “Gah!” I shouted, shooting across the bed as that goddamned dog of hers cocked its head to the side and stared at me with those beady black eyes. “Damn it, Shady,” I scolded. “We’ve talked about this.” He let out a little yap and jumped from the bed, not a care in the world. “Oh, don’t be mad at him,” Delilah crooned, as she made her way to the bed and crawled across it, looking like a fucking dream in another one of her vintage outfits that made her look like a 1950’s bombshell. And those glasses… damn, I’d never get tired of seeing her in those glasses. My girl. The perfect combination of sweet and sexy, with a style all her own. She was a hot nerd, through and through. “He just wanted a morning cuddle.” “But we had an agreement,” I argued, as I tagged her around the waist and pulled until she had no other choice but to sit up and straddle my hips. “He stays out of the bed, and I let him continue to dry hump that poodle in the park. One of her dark eyebrows rose over the black rim of her glasses. “He’s neutered, Richard. The dog doesn’t have any balls.” I snorted and rest my hands on the curve of her hips. “Yeah. Like that’ll stop a guy.” She let loose a giggle and leaned down to give me a kiss. “Good morning,” she whispered against my lips with a smile. “It is if I’m waking up to you.” “Aw, such a charmer. So, what are we doing tonight? You’ve been super secretive about your plans all week. I want to know!” She gave an excited hop on my lap that would normally make my dick jump up and beg for attention, but her words had ice water running through my veins. Tonight. What was tonight? What day was it? Think Richard, goddamn you! It couldn’t possibly be
today, could it? “Uh… I can’t tell you,” I finally said, doing my best to act like everything was just fine. “It would ruin the surprise.” Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout that would have normally set me off if my balls hadn’t already drawn up into my body in fear. “Fine,” she sighed. “Be all secretive. But it better be good!” She climbed from the bed and moved out of the bedroom into the kitchen. Jumping up like my ass was on fire, I snatched my cellphone from the nightstand and scrolled through to the calendar. “Son of a bitch!” I shouted when today’s date shone red like a beacon of doom. February 14th. Valentines Day. “Shitfuck!” “What happened?” Delilah’s voice called through my apartment. “Uh… I stubbed my toe! All good!” I shouted back. But it wasn’t all good. It was the furthest thing from all good. Because I was the dumbfuck who planned on proposing to his live-in girlfriend on Valentine’s Day and completely fucking forgot to make a plan. Why? Why had I thought I still had time? It didn’t make sense. Delilah walked back into the bedroom with a cup of coffee in her hand. I threw my phone onto the mattress and plastered an overly bright smile on my face in the hopes of covering up that I was freaking out on the inside. She frowned and cocked her head to the side. “Why do you look like that?” “Like what?” I asked, excessively happily. “I’m just smiling?” “Well… stop it. You look like a serial killer.” She thrust the mug in my direction and stood on her toes to give me a kiss. “I’m headed to the shop early, busiest day of the year and all. Have a good day, honey. I love you.” “Yeah, of course! Love you too.” Lowering to her heels, she gave me a bewildered look and stated, “You’re being weird this morning.” I gave a little laugh that was just a touch too hysterical. “Pfft. I’m not being weird, you’re weird! Weirdo.” Yes, that’s exactly what I said. Because it was the sound, sane response a man would make when the love of his life showed concern. I needed to get her the hell out of the apartment before I fucked everything up even worse than I already had. “Off to work for you,” I sang cheerfully, grabbing Delilah by the shoulders and spinning her around before giving her ass a smack. “I’ll see you tonight. Love you. Kisses. Bye now.” She gave me one last concerned glance over her shoulder before heading out of the room. As soon as I heard the click of the apartment door closing, I sprang into action. I pulled a pair of sleep pants over my
boxer briefs and bolted through the apartment, Shady yipping and dancing after me. As soon as I reached the door, I slowly turned the knob and pulled it open just enough to peek my head out. The elevator door down the hall dinged, and I could hear to soft whoosh of the doors closing. The coast was clear. Moving Shady back with my foot so I could get out without accidentally slamming him in the front door (something I’d only done twice, and both times it was a total accident), I slipped through and pulled it closed right behind me. Then I ran next door and began pounding on the door like my life depended on it. In the months that my cousin Collin had moved in with Delilah’s best friend in the apartment right beside ours, the four of us had been in a strange sort of battle to one-up each other. See, the wall between their apartment and ours was paper-fucking-thin. So thin you could hear everything that came from the other side. It was how Delilah and I had initially met. She and her then roommate Devon had a penchant for playing terrible music at an ungodly decibel. I’d stormed over there in a fit of rage, having just been cock-blocked by Fallout Boy, and the rest, as they say, was history. Delilah moved into my apartment shortly thereafter, and my cousin Collin, who’d been squatting at my place temporarily, had decided to take Del’s old room so Devon would be stuck with the full cost of the rent. It had all been well and good. Until Collin and Devon started hooking up, intentionally getting busy in his room, having the loudest sex imaginable as payback for the few times Delilah and I had accidentally been a little too loud. Now we basically just screwed with each other at every available opportunity. But I didn’t have time for games this morning. I needed help. Fast. “I swear to God, if someone’s not dead or on fire, they’re about to be,” Devon grunted through the door, right before snatching it open. Her dark brown hair was in disarray, and she still had pillow creases on her face. I couldn’t help messing with her. She was also my assistant at my law office and got an unhealthy amount of pleasure in making my life hell. I had to return the favor any chance I got. “You look terrible,” I said. “And you’re supposed to be at work in less than an hour. Doesn’t it take you at least two to fix all…” I waved my hand in front of her entire body, “…that?” “I'm going to murder you so hard,” she grumbled, eyeing me like she wanted nothing more that to reach into my chest and rip my heart out. What could I say, that was just the way our friendship worked. “Then I'm going to dance on your grave while nobody's looking, because I'm too classy to do it in front of an audience. Then I'm going to set Delilah up on blind dates until she meets someone who makes her forget all about you. And they'll live happily every after while you turn into worm food.” I paused, momentarily stunned speechless. “Jeez, you've put a lot of thought into killing me, haven't you?”
“Maybe,” she shrugged casually. I ran a hand through my hair and tried to get us back on topic. “Look, as much fun as all this is, I don't have time. I need help. Like the serious, life-or-death situation, kind of help. Can you just forget that you're secretly in love with me for two seconds and help a brother out?” She glared murderously just as Collin's chuckle sounded from behind her. "Hey, cuz." He grinned, pulling the door a bit wider. “You know it's my duty as her boyfriend to help her bury the body when you finally push her too far, right?” I lifted my chin and rested my hands on my hips. “I'd expect nothing less. You wouldn't deserve her if you wouldn't be willing to help her commit a felony.” “Just as long as we're clear,” he chuckled. “Now, what's got your panties so twisted this early in the morning.” Fuck, admitting how badly I fucked up wasn't ever an easy feat. But admitting it to Devon? That was just torture. She'd never let me live it down. But she was also the only one who had any chance of helping me fix this clusterfuck. “I fucked up.” I stated honestly. “I didn't realize today was Valentine's Day. I thought I still had time to plan an epic evening. I even told Delilah not to make any plans because I was going all out for her. Now it's actually here, and I don't have a goddamn thing set up!” “Dude,” Collin muttered, eyes shining with disappointment. “I know!” I declared, throwing my hands out at my sides. “I don’t know how this happened.” Then Devon giggled. And my stomach sank to the ground. She wouldn’t. Would she? Oh, who was I fucking kidding? She totally would.”
Chapter Two
Richard
“OH, DEVON.” NOW Collin’s disappointment was directed at her. Ha!
“What did you do?” I asked on a growl. “I got you back for taping the speaker of my phone so I spent a whole week yelling into it because the callers couldn’t hear me, that’s what I did!” “Damn it, Devon?” I snapped. “I might have jacked with your Outlook calendar a teeny tiny bit to make you think it was a different day. But in my defense, nothing I did affected any of your client meetings!” “No, you just managed to ruin the most important day of my life!” She rolled her eyes. “Oh don’t be so dramatic. It’s just Valentine’s Day. Not like it’s even a big deal. It’s just some stupid holiday invented by greeting card companies to make a profit since Fourth of July wasn’t really a card-giving occasion.” “I was going to propose, Devon!” I yell, grabbing hold of my hair and tugging frantically. “I was going to plan something romantic and ask Delilah to marry me!” “Dude! Congratulations!” Collin reached out and smacked my shoulder as Devon clamped her hands over her mouth, her eyes getting all watery. “You’re going to ask her to marry you? Ohmigod! I’m going to cry. She’ll be so excited!” “Jesus Christ,” I muttered, giving my head a shake. “Would you two focus please? I was going to until you had to go and ruin it, you big fat ruiner who ruins!” Her blue eyes got big with realization. “Ohhhhhh.” “Yeah.” I narrowed my own in an evil glare. “Now I’ve got a two-carat ring from Tiffany’s and no goddamned clue what I’m going to do with it. You’re going to help me fix this, Devon.” I jabbed my finger at her face. “Or so help me God, you’ll never see the payback coming. Now tame that disaster you call hair and slap some makeup on, and get your ass to the office. We have the world’s most epic proposal to plan.
“I’VE CALLED EVERY five-star restaurant in a twelve block radius. I even tried that little Indian place that
Del loves so much. I can’t get a table anywhere.” I dropped my head on my desk at Devon’s admission and began banging it against the wood. This was a disaster. Her heels clicked as she made her way across my office, and I heard papers shuffle just as she slid a deposition transcript between my head and my desk. “Don’t want you concussed when you pop the question.” She shrugged when I looked up at her with a scowl. “Let’s look at this from a different angle.Maybe a restaurant isn’t the best way to go. I mean, how cliché is that, right? Everyone does that.” “Thank you for your delightful insight,” I deadpanned. “But when have you ever known me to be an outside-of-the-box thinker?” She took a seat in a chair across from me and crossed her legs, looking comfortable as hell as she began examining her manicure. “That’s what I’m here for. Two brains are better than one.” I glowered silently for several seconds. Then said, “I want so badly to hurl an insult at you right now. You left yourself wide open.” “There’s no time! Now concentrate.” She began tapping her nails against the wooden armrest. “Hmm. Think, think, think,” she muttered, as I slowly lost even more of my mind. “It’s too late to hire a skywriter. Do you know if the Goodyear blimp is still in commission?” “That’s where you’re head is going?” I looked up. “God, what have I ever done to make you forsake me?”
Chapter Three
Delilah
“I HATE VALENTINE’S Day.” I looked over at Toni, my shop assistant, to find her glaring out at the massive crowd that was packed into my flower shop. Today was, by far, the busiest day of the year. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation at Flora. Every one of my employees was on the schedule. Even my good friends Navie and Pepper came down to help out with all the last-minute flower orders. “It’s not that bad,” I giggled, as I finished ringing up the guy in front of me. “Not that bad? Are you kidding?” She ripped the leaves off the rose stem and shoved it down into the vase she was currently assembling. “If one more man comes in here and places an order for his mistress and wife at the same time, I swear to God, my head’s going to explode.” She wasn’t lying. We got a lot of cheating bastards coming through the doors on days like today. And just to prove her point, an older guy with salt and pepper hair wearing an expensive suit came sauntering up to the counter and asked, “Excuse me, but would it be possible to order two separate bouquets to be delivered to two separate addresses?” “Get out of here, asshole!” Toni shouted at the guy. He sputtered for a few seconds, but seeing as my assistant was currently holding a pair of gardening sheers while wearing a demented look in her eyes, he made the wise choice and left without placing his order. Pepper and Navie came walking up, both their eyes on the man who was rushing from Flora like his ass was on fire. “What’s going on?” Navie asked. “Just another prick who can’t keep it in his pants,” Toni answered before turning to help another customer. Pepper hopped up on the other end of counter, making herself comfortable as she asked, “Another one? Jeez. Who knew working at a flower shop on Valentine’s Day would destroy me belief in monogamy?” “Oh, shut it,” Toni grumbled. “You bitches don’t have anything to worry about. I swear, those Locklaine boys are a breed of their own. Seriously. I kind of hate you all.” Navie and Pepper both laughed, but I had trouble allowing myself to find the humor in anything today.
Richard’s strange behavior when I left the apartment earlier was still weighing heavily on my mind. “Hey,” Navie said softly. “You okay? You look distracted.” Her question and gentle touch on my arm yanked me out of my head. “Huh? Oh, no. I’m good.” I offered a smile, but know it looked just as fake as it felt. Pepper cocked one of those fire-red eyebrows of hers and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve been off all day, sweetheart. What’s going on?” I sighed and bent to rest my elbows on my knees. “It’s Richard. He was being really weird this morning.” Navie’s forehead wrinkled in concerned confusion. “How so?” “I don’t know how to explain it,” I shrugged. “He’s been really secretive about our plans for tonight, and when I asked him again this morning, he kind of... freaked out.” Both of them shot up straight, their curiosity peaked. “Secretive?” Pepper asked. “Freaked out?” Navie mused. “Yeah. He said not to make any plans for tonight because he was going to set everything up, and that it was going to be a surprise.” “He’s probably going to propose,” Toni supplied, all nonchalant from the other side of the counter. “What?” I squeaked, drawing the attention of everyone around us. “Yeah,” Toni shrugged. “If he’s being weird and secretive, it’s probably because he’s planning on proposing.” “Holy shit!” Navie shouted, jumping up and down. “You’re getting engaged!” I couldn’t think. I could hardly breathe. Was that really what was happening? Why Richard was being so weird? “Oh. My. God,” I whispered. Then shouted, “Ohmigod! I’m getting engaged!” Pepper hopped off the counter and grabbed my arms, and declared. “We have to go shopping!” “What?” Why?” She scoffed like the answer should have been obvious. “It’s one of the rules of womanhood. You have to be wearing a killer dress when your man pops the question. Ooh! We should go to Fire & Ice!” She clapped, speaking of the boutique she owned. “I have just the thing.” I turned and looked out at the shop. It was still packed. Toni and the rest of my staff were busting hump. There was no way I could abandon ship now. As if reading my mind, Toni chimed in with, “Go. We got this.” “I couldn’t,” I argued weakly, excitement coursing through my blood. If I was getting engaged, I really wanted an awesome dress. Toni cut me a bland look. “Get out of here. Go get something that’ll drive him crazy. Then come back here tomorrow and give me all the details.” I let out another excited squeal, this time joined by Pepper and Navie as we all celebrated.
Because I was getting engaged!
Chapter Four
Delilah
“UH, GUYS. MAYBE this isn’t such a good idea.”
Pepper lifted her martini high in the air. “It’s an awesome idea!” Navie giggled and slurped back the last of her fourth Cosmo. “Trust us, honey. A little day drinking never hurt anyone. Consider this the pre-celebration celebration. I wasn’t even sure that was really a thing. After hours at Fire & Ice, where the girls practically made me put on a fashion show before we all decided on a gorgeous, skin tight, off-the-shoulder emerald green dress that hit me just at mid-thigh, the two of them had dragged me to a bar a few blocks down so we could have lunch and a few drinks. Usually, I wouldn’t have argued, but trouble seemed to follow our little group whenever alcohol was involved. Trouble in the form of handcuffs and a holding cell. And something told me there wouldn’t be time to make a detour to the closest police department. Not if I wanted to make it home in time to get ready to be proposed to! I was officially starting to freak out. “Yeah,” I started to argue. “But I need time to get ready, you know? Hair and makeup and all that stuff?” “Don’t worry,” Pepper patted my shoulder, her green eyes already glassy. “We’ll totally help you with all of that.” She slammed her martini and raised the glass, shouting, “Barkeep! Another round!” Oh damn. My gut told me this wasn’t going to end well. The bartender looked like he would rather have bamboo shoot shoved under his fingernails than make his way in our direction. “Uh… ladies. I think it’s probably time you switch to water. It’s only four o’clock, after all.” Oh no. Ohnoohnoohno. “What are you, our babysitter?” Navie spit. Yep, this wasn’t going to end well. For a tiny woman with such a cheerful, loving disposition, she turned into a raging manic if you questioned her while she’d been drinking. It was like she convinced herself she could take on anyone in a bar brawl and come out victorious. Normally, we all found this hilarious—well, all the women did anyway. The guys weren’t all that fond of coming to bail our asses out
—but I had plans for the evening. Very important plans. “Uh, Navie…” I mumbled, reaching up to tug on her arm. “I think I’m going to have to ask you ladies to leave.” Well damn. Now I knew there was no salvaging this situation, especially when Pepper slammed her martini glass on the bar top and shot a murderous look at the poor guy. “Excuse us?” “There a problem here?” I shot around on my barstool, and as soon my eyes traveled up to the face of the man who’d just spoken, I knew all hell was about to break loose. “Oh, for the love of Buddha,” I muttered under my breath before turning back around and dropping my head onto the bar, giving it a few bangs for good measure. “Oh Hell no!” Navie shouted when she got a look at the guy behind us. It was none other than the bald bouncer that had gotten us all arrested several months back when we hit up a strip club for Navie’s bachelorette party. According to her, he’s also been the reason for their two arrests previous to that one as well. “Fuck me,” he groaned. “Not you bitches again.” Damn it. He just had to go and say that, didn’t he? Now I wasn’t going to have any choice but to have my girls’ backs when the metaphorical shit hit the fan. “You did not just call us bitches!” Pepper shouted. One second later, Navie launched herself off the barstool at the massive hulk of man… and it was officially on.
Chapter Five
Richard
HOW HAD MY day turned into such a disaster? How?
Oh, I remembered, it was all thanks to the woman next to me at Mia Bella, one of the most exclusive Italian restaurants in the city, currently arguing with the man standing behind the hostess stand. “I’m sorry, Miss, but we’re completely booked up. There’s no way we can fit you in this evening.” We’d gone from calling to stalking the restaurants in town, in the hopes of getting a last minute reservation, thinking that showing up in person with pathetic frowns on our faces might have been a point in our favor. Hell, we’d even recruited my twin brother, Rowan, hoping to use his connections. Four restaurants and four rejections later, we were still no closer. The longer we’d gone at it, the more invested Devon had become in helping me make this proposal epic, so with every failure, she grew more and more hostile. “Listen here, you little shit—” I clamped my hand over her mouth from behind and jerked her backward as Rowan stepped between her and the weasel of a man who’d probably spent the entirety of his teenage years being picked on, but now had a God complex because he was the gatekeeper at an exclusive fucking Manhattan restaurant. Rowan pasted a charming smile on his face, gearing up to use the whole ‘do you know who I am’ shtick. “I apologize for my friend. My name’s Rowan Locklaine, if you could just ring your manager, I’m sure we could get this whole thing straightened out.” The asshole actually had the balls to sneer at a man twice his size as he asked, “I’m sorry, is that name supposed to mean something to me?” Oh fuck. Rowan’s face fell like he’d just been smacked. “Rowan Locklaine,” he repeated. “You know, #1 New York Times bestselling author? Rowan Locklaine!” A shit-eating smirk curled up on the little dickhead’s face. “There’s nothing I can do, sir. Maybe if you were E.L. James, or someone really famous—” “Oh you son of a bitch!” I let go of Devon quickly in order to dive on my brother’s back to prevent him from lunging at the pimple-faced bastard.
“Maybe you should try that all-you-can-eat buffet down the block,” the Host from Hell continues. I didn’t have enough arms to contain the chaos that exploded in the very front of the restaurant. With my feet still dangling from the ground as I attempted to put Rowan in a headlock, Devon screeched, “I’m gonna murder that kid!” and charged right over the hostess stand. I lost my precarious grip and hit the floor—on my ass—just in time to see Rowan follow after her. Then all hell broke loose.
Chapter Six
Richard
I SAT ON the cold steel bench of the holding cell with my elbows propped on my knees and my head buried
in my hands. This was a disaster. “You can’t arrest us! We didn’t do anything wrong!” came a familiar female voice. The yelling grew closer as a couple patrolmen led the combative women into the holding area. “Lady, you got drunk and beat up a bartender and a bouncer. How’s that not doing anything wrong?” “You’ve got to be shitting me,” Rowan groaned under his breath, just as Pepper and Navie rounded the corner, being dragged, kicking and screaming the entire way. But it wasn’t the sight of them that had me shooting to my feet and rushing to the bars at the front of the cell. Oh no, it was the sight of my sweet girlfriend walking calmly after them with her arms cuffed behind her back. “Delilah?” Her head shot around, her big eyes finding me. “Richard? What are you doing in there?” “I could ask you the same thing? What the fuck’s going on?” One of the patrolmen unlocked the cell next to ours where Devon had been relaxing like she didn’t have a care in the world. “These three got into a bar fight in the middle of the goddamned day. Beat the hell out of some big, bald bastard.” Fuck my life. Not him, I thought. That guy was going to sue each and every one of us for mental distress one day. “What were you thinking?” I barked at Del, just as the bars slammed behind her, Navie, and Pepper. With her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes behind her glasses in a severe glare. “It wasn’t my fault! Thelma and Louise over there don’t know how to hold their alcohol. And who are you to lecture? You’re locked up just the same as me!” “That’s because of them!” I shouted, pointing to Rowan and Devon. “Hey,” Devon objected. “We were just trying to help.” My eyes bugged out of my head as I turned to her. “By pile-driving a hostess?!” “He deserved it, the little shit,” Rowan grumbled under his breath. How was this my life? How were these my friends? I’d gone my entire life without being arrested, but
since hooking up with this rag-tag bunch of misfits, I’d managed to get locked up twice in a matter of months. It was official. I was taking Delilah, and we were moving to Montana, far away from all these crazies. “Why were you even drinking in the middle of the day?” I asked, walking over to the wall of bars that separated the men’s cell from the women’s. Weren’t you supposed to be at the shop?” Nervousness skittered across her expression before she quickly wiped it away and turned the tables. “Well, what were you doing at a restaurant with Devon and Rowan when you should have been at the office? Son of a bitch. Luckily, I was spared from having to answer when a voice broke through our little stare-off. “I didn’t want to think it was true, but fuck me if the story floating around the bullpen wasn’t spot on.” We all turned just as my cousin Griffin and Pepper’s brother Dex came into view, both cops who worked for NYPD. “Hi, honey,” Devon tried with a sugar sweet voice. “How’s your day been?” He glared. “Well, my girl, my cousins, and all our friends are currently being detained again. How do you think I’m doing?” I could tell Dex wanted to bust into laughter, but he was smart enough to bite his cheek and hold it in. “So… not too good then,” Pepper asked? “Seriously!” He barked, throwing his arms in the air. “You’re grownups. How does this shit keep happening?” We all grew eerily quite as everyone glances around at each other. Rowan, Devon and myself were keeping one secret, but from the looks Pepper, Navie, and Delilah were giving each other, they had a secret of their own. “Someone better say something, and fast,” Dex added. “Griffin and I have run out of strings to pull, so unless you guys don’t want to spend the night with a bunch of hookers, homeless dudes, and drunks, I suggest you start talking. “We were trying to get a reservation at Mia Bella so Richard could propose!” Devon spit out in a rapid fire pace. “What the hell?!” I shouted, turning to her. She shrugged, her expression growing remorseful as she said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t spend the night in here! It smells like pee!” “I knew it!” Navie cried, fist pumping the air as she jumped up and down. “Knew what?” Devon asked her. “Delilah was telling us how weird Richard was being this morning, and we all figured it was because he was going to propose. We went shopping then stopped to have a few celebratory drinks.” I grabbed hold of the bars and dropped my head against the cold metal, willing a hole to form in the
ground beneath my feet and swallow me whole. “Hey,” Delilah whispered, placing her hands over mine. I looked up just in time to see a bright, beaming smile stretch across her face. “So we were right? You were planning on proposing?” “Yeah,” I said on a sigh. “But the entire day turned to shit, and now we’re all stuck in here. I fucked everything up.” All I wanted to do was give the woman I loved the most amazing engagement story, and I could even do that.” She bounced from foot to foot like she was brimming with excitement. How she could possibly be excited when this day had turned into one massive shit show was beyond me, but leave it to my girl to react unexpectedly. “Do you… do you have the ring on you?” I narrowed my eyes and cocked a brow, suddenly suspicious. “Why?” She looked like she was about to come out of her skin. “Just answer the question!” “Yeah, it’s in my pocket.” “Can I see it?” My head jerked back in surprise as I studied her. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not showing you the ring before I propose!” “Then ask me now!” she cried, grinning from ear to ear. “Ask me right now!” “Del, baby. I’m not proposing in the middle of a holding cell. I wanted this to be special, and popping the question with the smells of piss and other questionable bodily fluids filling the air is not special.” “Are you kidding me?” she squeaked, hopping in place. “This is totally special! We have all our friends around us, and we’ve all been arrested!” How in fuck’s name was that special? “Think about it, Richard? This is totally us. Just another insane story to go with the millions of others we have. You wanted this proposal to be something we could look back on and smile about? Well, we’ll laugh our asses off every time we tell this story. How could it possibly get anymore special than this?” My chest grew tight at her words. I laced my fingers through hers through the bars of our holding cells. She was right. Fuck me, it was crazy as hell, but she was absolutely right. This was us. Nothing about our relationship or our circle of friends was normal, so how could I have ever imagined a normal proposal could cut it? “Delilah,” I breathed, releasing her hands to reach into the pocket of my slacks. “I love you with every single part of me. I pulled the velvet ring box out as I continued to speak. “You make every single day better than the last, and I can’t imagine not spending the rest of my life with you.” Tears skated down her cheeks as she gripped the bars so tight her knuckles turned white. “Baby, will you marry me?” “Yes!” she shouted at the top of her lung, as she thrust her left hand through to my side. “Yes, of course! Now give me my ring!” I laughed, happiness and joy filling my chest as I popped the lid open, pulled the ring out, and slipped
it onto her ring finger. Once I finished, I leaned in and kissed my fiancée through the bars. “Yes!” I heard Devon shout jubilantly. “You know what this means right? We get to have another bachelorette party!” All the girls cheered as I continued to kiss the hell out of Delilah. “You know we’re eloping, right?” I muttered against her lips, making her laugh. “Just me, you, and an Elvis impersonator, and no chances of incarceration.” She gave another giggle before sliding her arms through the rungs and threading her fingers through my hair. “But where’s the fun in that?” Damn it, she kind of had a point.
The End.
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Books by Jessica Prince THE PICKING UP THE PIECES SERIES Picking up the Pieces Rising from the Ashes Pushing the Boundaries Worth the Wait THE COLORS NOVELS Scattered Colors Shrinking Violet Love Hate Relationship Wildflower THE LOCKLAINE BOYS (a LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP spinoff): Fire & Ice Opposites Attract Almost Perfect THE PEMBROOKE SERIES (a WILDFLOWER spinoff): Sweet Sunshine Coming Full Circle A Broken Soul – Quinn and Lilly’s book (coming February 2017) DEADLY LOVE SERIES Destructive Addictive Obsessive – Aldo and Carmen’s story (coming April 2017) OTHER TITLES Nightmares from Within CO-WRITTEN TITLES:
Hustler – with Meghan Quinn
What Love Built
by JL Berg
THE WAVES CRASHED against the shoreline, spraying a fine, salty mist into the air. It was a comforting
smell, the ocean. It brought back memories of tiny footprints in the sand and years of laughter spent along the coast. Most people had a small patch of grass for a backyard, maybe a playground, or a small box of sand. The Cavenaughs however… they had the entire Pacific Ocean at their feet. It wasn't a lifestyle any of them took for granted. Every moment at this place had been cherished, loved and remembered for what it was. A gift. After all, when one comes face to face with death, every day after feels like a bonus. It was a chilly morning in California, Lailah thought to herself as she leaned against the deck railing, admiring the early morning sunrise. She'd lived in this house for an eternity, and yet she still found herself in this exact same place every morning. Her cold hands wrapped tightly around her cup of coffee as a brisk breeze swept across the beach, tossing her blonde hair as it went. "Come back to bed, it's freezing out here," her husband beckoned from the sliding glass door, pushing it open as he stepped outside to join her. She turned, catching a glimpse of his handsome frame before he gave in and joined her. Rubbing his hands together for warmth, Jude then wrapped them around her, just as he always had, for the last three decades. "You know," she smiled. "For an East Coast native, you've turned into quite the baby when it comes to temperature." A deep rumble of laughter filled the small space, as his grip on her tightened. "I've been on the West Coast far longer. Besides, I've heard that once you move away from the cold, you lose the layer of fat that keeps you warm." She just shook her head, loving his playful sense of humor. "You just made that up. You didn't lose anything when we moved here except maybe your ability to hail a taxi." He smiled. "You caught me, but I can still hail a taxi with the best of them." "I much prefer your driving skills over the horrible high pitched whistle you insist on doing." A chuckle rumbled in her ear. "It works every time." A comfortable silence settled between them as they watched the waves in the distance. Jude had built this house for his bride, with the intention that they would always have a place to call home. But they'd quickly learned, as many new parents do, that a house isn't what makes a home. It's the people in it. "Are you ready for this?" he asked, resting his chin against her smooth shoulder. "For our house to be filled with laughter and family again?" she asked. "I'm always ready for that." Jude's eyes crinkled in the corners as his smile grew wider. "Me too." A contented sigh escaped Lailah's lips. "You know she's bringing someone, right?"
"She's brought friends home before," Jude said, shrugging off the news. "Yes, but this time I don't think it's a friend." Turning her around in his arms, Lailah was met with a surprised and slightly fearful gaze. "A guy? Our daughter? The one who flew through college in three years and just finished her first year of residency at one of the top hospitals in the nation?" "That's the one." His eyebrow furrowed. Lailah recognized this particular facial expression. It was the same look he'd worn when Meara had gone on her first date, or attended the prom. His little girl was growing up. Or rather, had already grown up, since she was well on her way to her thirties, and the loving, protective father that he was didn’t like it one bit. "Do you think it's serious?" he asked. Lailah shrugged, trying not to alarm her uptight husband. "She's never brought a boy home before." "Are they still called 'boys' at that age?" he grumbled. Bringing her hand gently to his chiseled chin, she instantly felt the warmth of his skin as he leaned into her touch. "You knew this day would come." "Doesn't mean I like it." She laughed at her husband’s sudden moodiness. "It could be nothing," she pressed. "Maybe it’s a friend from the hospital. I don't recall you being so critical when Ian first brought home Wendy." "That's different. Ian is my son. He's—" "A guy? Come on, give the guy a chance, will you? Besides, I thought you wanted me to come back to bed." The mention of their marital bed brought his fiery edge down a notch. "I do recall mentioning something like that." "We only have a handful of hours before everyone arrives." "Then we better get busy," he said, his voice dropping an octave. A warmth spread through her body at the mere sound of his sexy voice. "Lead the way." He happily did as he was told, pulling her hand toward the open sliding glass door where the warmth of their bed awaited. And for the next several hours, there was no talk of family or unwanted guests. Just the two of them and the never-ending love between them.
"TIME TO GET up," Cara Cavenaugh’s sultry voice called out in the dark.
"No," her sleepy husband replied. "I'm retired. I don't have to wake up anymore." The soft sound of laughter filled the room as Cara moved closer to the warmth Roman's body provided. Even after all these years, her heart still quickened the instant her skin collided with his. It never got old, this life they'd built together. Every day was just as good as the last, just as wild as the first and filled with more love with every passing year. "You may be retired," she replied, "But that doesn't mean you get to spend all day in bed." His voice suddenly lowered, causing a chill to race up Cara's spin. "I thought that's exactly what retirement meant." That's all it took for her to fall under his spell. And he knew it. A single word, a knowing glance, and she was putty in his hands. But today, she had to resist. Today, they had plans. Plans that couldn't be rescheduled. Placing a firm hand on his chest, she stopped his luscious lips just short of his intended target — her mouth. Roman gave her a surprised, slightly amused expression as he glanced down at the firm hand that separated her from what was sure to be a wonderful morning. "We have a plane to catch. Remember?" His head fell back on the pillow. "Family reunion, right. That's today?" Cara felt the corner of her mouth curl up at his poor attempt at confusion. "You know it's today. Don't pretend you don't." "Fine, okay. Yes, I know today we're headed to my brother's house for a festive family get-together. But isn't this something we can do some other weekend? It's Valentine’s Day weekend. The only person I want to be festive with is you, and maybe a bottle of champagne." She smiled. Roman had always been the romantic type, sending flowers on her birthday, giving elaborate gifts for their anniversary and always, without fail, he knew exactly what to say when she needed a word of encouragement. But Valentine’s Day is when her husband truly shined. On their first February fourteenth, when she was battling morning sickness and desperately trying to plan a wedding, she'd been surprised to find him at the door of their penthouse apartment, dressed in a tux, ready to take her out to dinner. When she'd looked less than enthused about the idea of getting dressed up in her current state, he'd whisked her up to the roof where he had a private dinner waiting for them. No fancy dress or horribly uncomfortable shoes required. He'd packed so many heaters up there that it was practically tropical. And the food?
Sometimes she still dreamt of the desserts. Every year, Roman tried to outdo himself. And every year, he succeeded, but this weekend would be different. "I know you're bummed it's replacing our weekend—" "My weekend," he grumbled. She smiled, loving him despite his childish demeanor. "I do seem to recall both of us being at all of those dates over the years." A grin danced across his handsome face. "Yes, but I was the one who did all the work." His eyes roamed over her shoulders and down the curve of her body. "Well, maybe not all of the work." "Focus," Cara laughed. "Fine," he growled. "I'll get up, and take a shower. I'll even get dressed. But don't expect me to be happy about it." She watched as he dragged himself to the stately bathroom they'd had remodeled several years back. He didn't bother shutting the door which gave her the opportunity to lie back for a moment and listen to him softly hum to himself. Although he was making a fuss about the trip, she knew he was looking forward to it. Underneath all that burly angst, Roman Cavenaugh was nothing more than a family man. But sometimes, family was hard to face… especially when it was no longer complete.
"I'M FLYING TO Uncle Jude's and Aunt Lailah's today," Quinn said, as a brisk breeze blew through the trees,
setting her teeth on edge. Winter had been a brutal bitch this year in New York, and February had been the worst of it. A trip west was starting to sound better and better by the minute. "They were supposed to come here for Christmas, like usual, but well — they didn't. Everything was different this year," she continued, a sad note to her voice, as she tucked a loose strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear. Everyone had always said she was a spitting image of her mother, from her petite frame, right down to her long chestnut hair. But they always seemed to overlook the eyes. She had her father’s eyes. Mossy-green like the ocean on a cloudy day, they seemed to captivate everyone she came in contact with, which made her the perfect heir to the family legacy. It also helped that she had a Master’s in business from Brown. Quinn Cavenaugh had been running Cavenaugh Investments for eighteen months. A year and a half of her life.
As one of the youngest CEO's of a Fortune 500 company, she should have been on top of the world. Instead, she was sitting on the cold ground in a cemetery, talking to a limestone slab in the ground. "I miss you Nana," she said, running her fingers over the engraved letters that spelled out the family name. She'd only been gone a few months. They knew this day would come when she'd gathered them all together a year earlier and shared the news. Cancer. But no one is ever really prepared for it. Especially Quinn. She'd grown up an only child, and while she often wondered what it would be like to have a brother like her cousin Meara, she kind of enjoyed all the attention. Especially from her Nana. Being the only grandchild on the East Coast, her and her Nana had developed a special bond over the years. First, it was tea at the Plaza when she was young. Later, they would shop for makeup at Bloomingdales and drop by to visit Daddy at work. In her later years, Quinn would find herself visiting Nana at home more often than their usual carefree dates out on the town, making sure she'd taken all of her medications and gotten dinner. It was then that she first realized Nana wasn't immortal. And she was getting old. It wasn't much longer at that realization that the news of her illness came, and soon she was gone. Her father took the loss hard. Returning to the office, he tried to immerse himself in work. But what does one do when they've already handed everything over to the next generation? Finally, he gave in and let Quinn's mother take over. They spent a month away, giving him time away to grieve. Quinn however? She did exactly what her father had been unsuccessful in. She buried her grief in work, and never came up for air. "I thought we'd have Thanksgiving, you know?" Quinn said softly. "And at least one last Christmas together at the big house. But we didn't, and without you, no one really knew what to do. So we just didn't. Mom, Dad and I had a nice dinner in the city and Jude's family stayed home. It didn't feel like anything at all really. So, we're trying something new. Or making up for lost time, I'm not really sure. But whatever the reason, we're all getting together at Jude and Lailah's for Valentine's Day. Stupid, right? Who does a family get together on a holiday made for chocolate hearts and lingerie? But, I think we all need it, so that's what we're doing." It had been Lailah's idea. She was a perceptive woman, that aunt of hers. She always seemed to sense hidden pain that people so desperately tried to hide. Quinn thought it might be because she'd experienced so much pain in her own life. Maybe the warrior in her recognized it.
She'd heard the stories growing up — how her heroic aunt Lailah had battled a severe heart condition and met the love of her life. It all sounded like a fairytale from a romance novel. But, in her world, it was just part of life. Even her parent’s office romance seemed grand and adventurous compared to the dull life Quinn had led so far. Taking over the family company had always been her plan—her dream, but she'd never thought beyond that. What happened next? If Nana was here, surely she'd know exactly what to say. But she wasn't. Not now. Not ever again. And so, Quinn did the only thing she could do. She blew a kiss to the place where her precious Nana rested, and headed for the airport.
AFTER A LAZY morning spent lounging in bed, Lailah and Jude made up for lost time, quickly running
around the house to pick up any last minute items that were out of place, and vacuum any dog hair that might have been tracked through by their two golden retrievers. While Jude finished up spot cleaning, Lailah began preparations for dinner. "You're not making anything crazy, are you?" Ian asked, the moment he and his beautiful wife and child arrived. "Why would you think that?" she asked, grinning ear to ear. She loved the sound of her house filling with family. These days, it was simply too quiet. This place had been built for chaos. Sibling fights over toys, high pitched screams as daddy chased little children down the halls and yes, even the occasional temper tantrum. She missed it all. But without growth, she wouldn't have tiny, new blessings like her granddaughter, Eliza. "Come give Grandma a kiss!" she crooned, quickly wiping her hands on a towel, before holding them out toward the chubby baby in her son’s arms. Unlike their daughter Meara, Ian had always had just one goal in mind. Family. He'd attended college, majoring in business and been hired right out of college at a well-established firm. But it had never been about the money for Ian. From the first moment he set eyes on Wendy during a party his freshman year, he'd lived and breathed
for that woman. Until they had Eliza. Lailah had never been more proud of her son than the day he became a father. It was like watching the final piece of a puzzle settle in place. He'd found his purpose in life. "How is she sleeping? Making it through the night yet?" Lailah asked, as Ian handed Eliza over to his mother and went in search of his father. "Pretty much," Wendy replied. "She'll wake up every now and then but a quick feeding and she's right back to sleep." "Are you being a good baby girl for you Mama and Daddy?" Lailah said, in a high pitched voice that made Eliza giggle with glee. The laughter only doubled when she began playing peek-a- boo, covering her eyes with her free hand. "I used to do this with both of the kids. Seems it a success once again," she smiled, just as the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of another family member. Checking her watch, Lailah called out. "Jude, could you get the door? I think that might be my parents." "On it!" Jude answered, as he jogged toward the entryway. Lailah continued to admire her granddaughter, savoring the last few moments of silence before her parents entered, demanding hugs, wanting to help out in any way possible. Both pushing eighty, neither of them wanted to admit they were well past the golden years. But as Lailah continued to stroke the soft skin on Eliza's head, awaiting what was sure to be ruckus, there was nothing but silence. "Jude?" she finally called out. "Yeah?" he responded. "Who was at the door?" No answer, until finally, "Can you come here please?" She and Wendy exchanged a curious glance, as Lailah handed off the infant and made her way to the front. It was Jude she noticed first, standing frozen, with a look of shock on his face. As she moved closer, she recognized another face. "Meara!" she exclaimed, reaching across the threshold to embrace her oldest child. "What is all this Jude? Why haven't you invited her in?" It was then that she noticed the man standing next to Meara, holding her hand. Her gaze turned to her rigid, unyielding husband before settling back on her daughter. A hesitant smile spread across Meara's face as her free hand stretched across her waist and reached for the nameless man. "Hi Mom, um… this is Caleb. My husband."
"WELL, THAT WENT well," Meara said, as she shut the door to her childhood bedroom.
Caleb fell face first onto the brightly colored quilt of the bed and groaned. "Well? That went well? I'm lucky to be still breathing, Meara. I'm fairly certain your uncle is calling a hit on me this very moment." "He wouldn't do that," she replied, biting on her thumbnail, the light dancing off the brand new ring that rested on her right hand. She hadn't meant to spring it on her parents in this way. She hadn't even meant for any of this to happen actually. Meara was the smart one. The logical one. She'd always considered herself impervious to love and romance. Until she met Caleb. Love was like the high she got after five hours of surgery combined with the rush of some sort of extreme sport. It was addictive, blinding, and yet comforting at the same time. She'd never been more focused on her goals and yet, she couldn't imagine any of them without him. This is what she would have told her mom and dad, if she hadn't freaked out the moment the door opened. But the second she saw those familiar green eyes and the gentle warmth behind her father’s smile, Meara suddenly felt like that tiny little girl running into her daddy's arms after a fight with the neighbor kid. "Are you regretting it? Eloping?" Caleb asked, as he watched his new bride fight her emotions. She turned suddenly, eyes wide. "No, of course not," she replied, moving closer to him. Meara took his hand, feeling the heat of his skin. "I just wish I would have told them sooner. We should have flown here the moment after." Caleb's mouth turned upwards, forming a wolfish grin. "I seem to remember we were slightly busy the moments after. And several days after." Meara blushed instantly. "Okay, maybe not the moment after, but we could have spared a day or two. It's been three weeks." "You're right babe. It was selfish of us. We've been in a bubble, thinking only of ourselves. But now is the time to make up for that." "Starting with dinner?" She suggested. "Good of place as any." "It's your funeral," Meara said jokingly as they both headed for door. "Well at least the sex was worth it." "Word," she agreed as they gave each other a high five before beginning the long walk down the
hallway for dinner. Life in the Cavenaugh house was never dull.
"WELL, THIS IS damn uncomfortable," Roman whispered to his wife, as Lailah and Jude brought the final dishes to the table for dinner. "Quiet," she replied softly, before adding. "But yes, it is. I'm pretty sure your brother is planning that poor boy’s death as we speak." "Don't blame him. I kind of want to help. Seriously… if Quinn married some random guy off the street, I'd murder him." "You wouldn't dare!" Cara hissed. "I know people. I could make it happen." Cara rolled her eyes at her husband’s wild antics. She knew for a fact that he would bend to Quinn's ever whim. He had ever since the day she was born. If she showed up with a man at her side, professing her love for him, no doubt her husband would welcome him with open arms. As far as Roman was concerned, the universe revolved around that little girl. And Cara wouldn't have it any other way. "So your flight was good?" Meara asked, as both her and her new husband sat uncomfortably around the large table. Roman eyed him with the inquisitive eyes of a protective uncle. He was good looking, there was no doubt about that. He caught his own daughter doing a double take the moment they'd walked in. He also seemed to be well-educated, based on the few conversations he'd overheard. Unfortunately, he didn't think his brother had noticed any of Caleb's promising attributes after seeing the way his hands lingered around Meara's waist. "Um, yes," Cara replied sweetly. "We took the company jet, so it was quiet. Just the three of us which was nice. Quinn has been so busy lately with work, it gave us the chance to catch up with her." Quinn gave her cousin a polite smile, as she took a quick sip from her glass of merlot. Roman knew that tight smile. He'd invented it. His beautiful daughter was wondering the exact same thing as he was… just how many glasses of wine it would take to make it through the rest of the weekend. Me too kid. Me too. "How is that going Quinn? Your new position?" Meara asked, as her parents finally took a seat at the table. Jude and Lailah had made a gorgeous feast for the impromptu family holiday. Normally, they'd all gather at the country estate which had been in the family for generations. Roman and Cara lived there now,
taking it over years ago when Quinn was young. After living in the city for years with a young child while the family home sat empty, it just seemed right. Jude gave his blessing, knowing his family was settled and happy on the West Coast and they'd settled into their routine. Holidays at the estate. It had been that way for years. It's how Meara, Quinn and Ian remember every last Christmas. Until now. Roman felt like he'd failed somehow by not keeping up the tradition. If it hadn't been for Lailah, it could have been months or longer before the entire family was together under one roof. "It's not so new anymore," Quinn explained, expanding into a deeper conversation about her primary duties and responsibilities as the head honcho for the company. He listened with pride. Years ago, when she'd first shown an interest in what he did, he'd cringed at the thought of her taking on this monumental task. After all, he knew what it entailed. Long nights, endless decisions, never-ending obligations and commitments. He wanted more for her. Something normal. But then again, nothing was ever normal for a Cavenaugh. As the years dragged on and her persistence for business grew, he knew she wouldn't give up. And he was always a sucker for giving in when it came to that girl. Besides, it made her happy and someone had to carry on the legacy. At least this generation wouldn't be cornered into it like he and his brother had. They'd eventually figured out a way to enjoy it — reimagining the company in a way their father had never dreamed of. But it took years of pain. Pain their own children would never have to experience. And Roman was glad for that. Even if he himself was still hurting.
THE SMALL TALK was endless.
Mindless. And driving her absolutely insane. Quinn had always heard of families who had such monumental problems that the simple act of making conversation was an epic task. She'd had friends in high school and college who would confide in her about shitty parents or judgmental relatives.
And as much as she felt for them, there had always been a part of Quinn Cavenaugh that felt a slight sense of relief after hearing their plight. Because she knew that would never happen with her family. Until today. Sure, she could blame it on her cousin. Showing up, three weeks after apparently marrying a complete stranger and announcing it at the front door step. Yeah, that could do it. Hell, she could even blame herself. Quinn had been so dedicated to work lately that she'd barely come up for air. But even she knew that was a lie. The real reason this family was splintering before her very eyes? Denial. And the more everyone skirted around the actual issue, the more Quinn's alter ego tried to take over. The controlling side of her that made grown men cower in fear and gave her a total edge in the boardroom. She'd learned it watching her father rule over his kingdom for decades and now she would use it to reign in this shit storm of a family she was a part of. Taking her wine glass by the stem, she quickly chugged the last half of what was no doubt an expensive merlot. All eyes around the table fell on her, including her amused father who was most likely a little tipsy himself. "Oh good, I have your attention," she said calmly. Quinn's father was well acquainted with her business tactics and recognized the change in her tone immediately. Everyone else though sat around the table perplexed. "This polite, calm-as-fuck act we're doing right now? It needs to stop okay?" The family sat in silence. Stunned silence. "Look, Uncle Jude — I know you're upset. I get it. But like it or not, you have a new son-in-law. So stop sitting over there trying to kill him with your laser vision and start getting to know him. Trust your daughter enough to know that even if she did act impulsively and got married without letting any of us know, that she would have at least picked the right guy." Jude had always been one of the coolest guys Quinn had ever known. How many other girls had an uncle with sleeve tattoos who rode a surfboard for fun? But seeing that big man she'd admired all her life nod in agreement with her as his eyes found his one and only daughter? That was the moment he truly became the coolest man alive.
Besides her father that is. Which brought her to her next victim. "And Dad? Don't think you're getting off the hook either," Quinn announced, turning her gaze over to the man himself. His buzz seemed to wear off immediately. "What? What the hell did I do?" he asked innocently. "It's not what you did, but what you haven't done," she accused, causing several gasps at the table. "Now Quinn," her mother tried to intervene. "No, mother. This needs to be said. We've all been pussy — footing around this subject for far too long and it's about time we all talk about it. Nana died, okay? I don't like it. In fact, I hate every day without her. I've spent the last few months practically living at work, pretending it's perfectly okay to be a twentysomething with no life so I didn't have to think about her and I'm fairly sure I'm not the only one." "I'm retired," Roman shrugged, using his sense of humor as a deflective measure. Quinn knew this maneuver. She'd seen it time and time again growing up. Her parents would argue, and Dad would step in with a joke and soon they'd be dancing in the kitchen, laughing over their ridiculousness. But it wouldn't work this time. "Why did you try to show up at my office then?" Jude’s eyes flew over to his brother’s. "I can't check in on my daughter?" he asked. "Come on Dad. You and Mom went on a month long vacation and you still won't admit it. You're not over it. None of us are. So rather than talk about it, we're all sitting around this table making idle chat while poor Caleb sits there wondering just what he's gotten himself into." "I'm fine, really," Caleb assured everyone, as Meara's supportive hand went across his back. Roman let out a long sigh, as silence fell across the family table. His hands stretched over his face, through his hand before he finally spoke. "I miss her every day. Every damn day," he said, his voice shaking with every word. "Sometimes I wake up and almost forget, you know. Like it was all just a dream. I'll roll over to grab the phone so I can check on her and the sudden realization sets in. She's not here. And then I grieve all over again. I never knew it would be like this. I never knew it would so hard." His confession was met with a sea of tears as each member of the family joined in, adding their own stories of loss. The talking continued long after the table was cleared, but not so long that the wine ran out. It was a time of healing. It was a time for family. And it was a time for remembering.
"SO, YOUR FAMILY is—" "Crazy?" Meara guessed as her and Caleb awoke the next morning. The comforting sound of the waves could be heard from her bedroom window, a sound she missed almost daily now that she was far away from home. "No, I was actually going to say awesome," Caleb replied. Meara looked up at him, as his embrace tightened. "Really?" "Yeah. I mean, sure… it was a little dicey there for a while when your cousin went all commando and started yelling. But then it was cool. Like really cool. Not all families can do that — work through stuff so easily. It's commendable." She nodded. "Well, I wish I could take credit for it, but believe me, it's all thanks to our parents. They're pretty amazing." "Well they'd have to be to raise such a stellar daughter," he grinned, leaning in to place his warm lips upon hers. She instantly surrendered, loving the feeling of his body. "How stellar?" she whispered, as he pulled her closer. "Have I told you how much I love your ass?" She felt his hand creep up her thigh, grazing her skin just enough to scatter goosebumps in his wake. A gasp pierced the silence as his large hand enveloped her ass. "Mmm, yes. I could write a sonnet or two about this… if I was a poet." She smiled. "I should have married a poet." He laughed. "Poets don't make shit and you have quite the expensive shoe habit." "Well it's a good thing I married a surgeon." He nudged her further beneath him, scattering kisses across her porcelain skin. "Agreed." Things were just getting interesting, as the newlyweds did what they did best, when the knock came. Caleb tried to cover his groan as Meara, ever the daughter in her parents’ home, flew to action, trying to find a robe to cover her nakedness. "Yes?" she answered, cracking the door slightly. Her mother’s smiling face greeted her. "Good morning sweetheart!" "Hi Mom," Meara replied awkwardly, as she pulled the robe tightly around her. "I'm sorry to bother you. I know it's early, but I was wondering if you two wouldn't mind joining us in a bit for breakfast? We were thinking of going out?" "Out?" she replied. "Yes. Silly me didn't grab enough eggs."
Meara gave her mother a strange look but agreed. It wasn't like her mother to forget anything, especially when it involved company. "Looks like we're going out to breakfast," Meara announced. "Sure," Caleb grinned, "But first…" Meara's squeal of delight was instantly quelled as her groom took charge of making sure her day started off just right.
"THIS IS REALLY sweet of you," Cara said to Jude, as they finished the final touches outside.
"It's the least I can do after being such a jackass last night," he admitted. Jude had always prided himself on being a fair person. Fair in the boardroom, fair with his children and with his wife? Well, that was a different story. He'd give her the fucking world. But when Meara showed up last night with a man at her side and brand new ring on her finger, he'd absolutely lost it. He'd never felt so lost in his life. Well that wasn't true. He had. The day he'd lost his mother. He'd been floundering ever since. It had taken his fiery twenty something niece to snap him back into reality and realize this wasn't all about him. And so, long after everyone else in the family had gone to bed, he'd been awake, working on this, a gift for his daughter and new son-in-law. A wedding. "They're coming!" Cara announced, as she raced out to the deck. "Hey guys?" Meara called out. "We're ready for breakfast! Sorry it took us so long. We, uh, were having problem picking out an outfit." Jude rolled his eyes. "Mom… Dad?" Finally, the newlyweds made their way toward the open set of doors and stepped out onto the deck. They were greeted by dozens of flowers, and twinkling lights. And of course their family. "Oh my gosh," Meara cried. "We know you had your special day already, but we were hoping you might be willing to do us a favor and reenact it for us?"
Tears fell from Meara's cheeks as she stepped forward into her parents’ arms. "I love you, and yes. Absolutely yes." As everyone took their seats, Jude found his wife’s hand, remembering the day he spoke his own vows of marriage, listening to his brother next to him whisper Happy Valentine’s Day to his own bride. He was in awe at how far they'd all come. How much they'd created because of love. It was worth it. Love was always worth it.
About the Author J.L. BERG is the USA Today best-selling author of the Ready Series, the Walls Duet, and the Lost & Found
Series. She is a California native living in the beautiful state of historic Virginia. Married to her high school sweetheart, she and her husband have two beautiful girls who drive them batty on a daily basis. When she’s not writing, you will find her cuddled up, watching a movie with her family, obsessing over Minions, or devouring anything chocolate! J.L. Berg is represented by Jill Marsal of Marsal Lyon Literary Agency, LLC. Website Newsletter Facebook Twitter Instagram Or join her reading group
Books by J.L. Berg NEW ADULT ROMANCES The Walls Duet Within These Walls Beyond These Walls Behind Closed Doors CONTEMPORARY ROMANCES The Ready Series When You’re Ready Never Been Ready Ready To Wed Ready For You Ready or Not The Lost and Found Duet Forgetting August Remembering Everly YOUNG ADULT ROMANCES The Tattered Gloves
Special Delivery
by Liv Morris
Prologue IT’S CLOSE TO two in the afternoon on Saturday, February 14th. My heart pounds away due to a crazy mix
of joy and nervousness. I check my lipstick and hair one more time in the mirror before my father comes to escort me. Without him, it’s unlikely I’d be sitting in this dressing room surrounded by yards of ivory satin. I’m here because a year ago today my life changed 180 degrees on a holiday I had cursed for years. Who could have guessed that it would become my most treasured day of the year? One can never underestimate fate.
Fate TODAY IS FRIDAY, February 14th. Yes, it’s that day...
As a single, unattached woman, I’ve loathed this holiday for years. The fact that two serious boyfriends had conveniently broken up with me the week before Valentine’s Day is likely the main reason. And adding to the rejection, I had to return my already-purchased gifts for them, though I did keep all the chocolates for myself. A friend told me under the circumstances, the chocolates were calorie free. A slight consolation. When the calendar turns to February, I dread the upcoming parade of roses and candy. And stupid red hearts start appearing everywhere, seeming to mock me and my singleness. I’m okay with being single for the most part. It isn’t my first choice, and truthfully, I would love to settle down with a sweet and decent guy. But so far, Mr. Right hasn’t shown up at my door. His appearance remains elusive in my life, but I have faith that he’s out there, somewhere... I’m only twentysix years old and refuse to feel desperate or panicked yet. Instead, I’ll let my mother do all the worrying and hand wringing concerning my love life. God knows she’s become a pro at it. My career as a flight attendant appears to be a stumbling block for many guys. In fairness, I’m away from home more than I am actually here in San Francisco. One guy I dated said he was tired of spending lonely nights by himself on his couch eating takeout for dinner. He even asked if I might consider quitting my job. I couldn’t quit my job in this economy or any for that matter. I love what I do. When I told him that he was asking too much from me, I watched him get up and walk out the door. Deep down inside I know that I’m better off without him, but it still stings, especially today, the day anointed for lovers. I might adjust who I am for someone, but I’m not willing to completely change myself just to please them. Looking into the mirror and seeing my frizzy hair is hard enough. I need to also see a reflection of someone that doesn’t make my stomach turn. As Shakespeare said, “To thine own self be true.” Words to live by I suppose. My flight segments wore me out today. They bordered on tortuous. Friday happens to be the worst day of the week for Valentine’s Day to fall on. It adds up to planes full of couples canoodling in their seats as they jet off for a romantic weekend somewhere to enjoy strawberries and champagne. I tried not to scowl at them but my aggravation was likely obvious. My behavior was nothing to be proud of. Envy never really is. During my last segment back to San Francisco, I’d had enough of all the couples for the day and was teetering on doing something that might make the nightly news. Nothing too violent, of course, but the
thought of pouring a few drinks over a pair of steamy lovers to cool them off did cross my mind. Especially when one of them looked like an ex of mine. It took some restraint, but I’m proud to report that I left the airport sans handcuffs. I decided that harboring ill will against something I really want in my own life creates bad Karma. And I’m not stupid enough to mess with her. So now back at my apartment, I’m safe from a world, which has gone painfully red for the day. My best friend, Monica, lives a couple of floors below me. We spoke yesterday and decided to spend tonight watching a movie, painting our nails, and crying into our wine glasses about how we need a man. Sounds kind of pathetic, really, but we need something cathartic to purge this day from our system. Wine and bitching mixed with a few tears usually does the trick. After changing into an oversized t-shirt and black yoga pants, I go deep-sea diving in my large tote and find my phone swimming somewhere on the bottom. Monica is expecting my call, so I locate her number and press on the phone’s screen. “Hey, Em. You’re back home?” Monica answers quickly. She’s likely ready to forget this day too. “Yep. Got back about thirty minutes ago. Both of my flights were filled with starry-eyed lovers. I could only take so much after a while.” “My day wasn’t much better. By noon, I wished I’d called in sick. Everyone around me in the office received flowers. Even that witch, Melody. When the delivery man sat pink roses on her desk, I almost screamed, ‘What about me?’” “God, that sucks, Monica. Maybe she sent them to herself,” I say with a laugh. “We need to wash away this day with a bottle or three of wine.” “Sounds good. Maybe we can watch a comedy tonight. I need something funny or I’m gonna need to hide all my knives.” Now we were both laughing. “How about that Kate Hudson movie? The ten days to do something one.” I couldn’t remember the exact title, but I enjoyed watching Matthew McConaughey squirm in it. “Perfect. I’ll bring some...” As Monica was speaking a loud knock came from my apartment’s front door. It wasn’t angry pounding but it was loud. “What was that noise?” Monica asked after the knocking stopped. “Someone’s at my door. I didn’t buzz anyone up so it’s probably my neighbor,” I say approaching the door. I peek through the peephole and nearly faint dead away when I see who’s standing on the other side. “Oh my God. You’re not going to believe who’s at the door. It’s The Panty Dropper.” “The what?” Monica questions. “You know. The hot guy in our building I call The Panty Dropper. The one I’d willingly be a sex slave for.”
“No way. What the hell is he doing there? Wait don’t answer that. For God’s sake, Em, answer the damn door.” I look out the peephole one more time and am startled as he knocks forcefully once again. He’s probably ready to give up on anyone being home. “Hold on,” I whisper to her. I place the phone down on the entryway table and laugh when I see myself in the mirror above it. Not exactly the look I would go for if I had a choice, but he’s at the door and I can’t let him get away. Quickly, I smooth down my frizzy hair and bite my lips for a little color. And with a shaky hand I turn the knob and pull. But I’m simply not prepared for the sight and close proximity of the most beautiful man in the whole universe, or my building at least. So instead of saying hello, I find my mouth gaping open, guppy-fish style, as I stare up into his ocean blue eyes. I’ve never had an opportunity to see him this close up before and it’s completely overwhelming and paralyzing. “Hi, are you Emily?” He finally speaks and hearing my name roll across his tongue warms me up in a place somewhere between my head and toes. “Yes,” I purr back at him trying to channel a sex kitten of some kind. It probably isn’t working considering my hobo attire. He smiles at me sweetly and I just know he witnesses silly girl behavior like mine daily. “I’m Ethan Murphy. I live upstairs in apartment 814 and these roses were left at my door. I’m pretty sure there was a mistake.” Roses? I shake my head a bit to bring myself out of a fixed stare. As I do, I notice a pretty bouquet of red roses in his hand. I look back up at him confused. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.” And before I know it, I’m throwing the door wide open and asking him to enter my apartment. “Come in.” Right now, I don’t care if he’s like the crazy from American Psycho. Watching his suit-covered body walk across my threshold makes any thought of danger slip from my mind. His suit is navy blue, add a tie to match his eyes, and he looks like he just walked off a photo shoot for Brooks Brothers. He moves closer to me and steps to my side, shoulder to shoulder, and holds up a small envelope, the kind given with flowers. Before I can really focus on what’s in his hand, I take a calming breath and get a whiff of his cologne. It’s woodsy and crisp. Nice, dreamy nice. “I think the doorman misread the envelope,” he says. “It clearly says 614 not 814 on the front.” My eyes glance over the envelope and it’s clear that the flowers were supposed to be delivered to my apartment, 614, not his. Staring at the lone apartment numbers on the front, I realize my name wasn’t written on it... just the numbers, which is odd, as he knew my first name. Since we’ve never met, he must have opened the envelope to look at the card inside.
“Do you mind?” I ask while reaching for the envelope. Once in my hands, I turn it around to the back, and sure enough it’s been opened. I pull the card out, dreading to see what I already suspect is on the little piece of cardstock. The words jump out at me, making my face turn a deep red, not quite the color of the roses, but pretty damn close. They’re from my father. He’s given me flowers on Valentine’s Day since I was a young girl. I cringe even more as I read over the card. Dear Emily, Will you be my Valentine? I love and miss you, Dad. Holy crap! After a few more moments of silence, I look up to see Ethan’s eyes focused on my face. Relief rushes over me as I see him smiling all sweet and sexy. “My dad,” I say shyly while raising the card. “He does this for me every year.” “That’s really cool,” he responds sincerely. “Sounds like a great guy.” “He is, but it’s rather embarrassing.” We’re now leaning against my entry wall facing one another. He’s looking at me and I’m looking at him, both of us smiling. It feels nice, different. I’ve almost forgotten that I’m decked out like a slob. In this moment, it doesn’t seem to matter. “I guess it gives your boyfriend a little competition.” His words end almost like a question. “He has to top dear old Dad.” “Boyfriend? I wish.” Wait, did I just say that? My eyes immediately fall to the ground, but his slight laugh brings them up again. “So, no boyfriend?” This time he asks a definite question like he cares whether I’m dating someone. Oh good God. Would someone please pinch me? “Nope.” I say with a stupid pop to the “p.” But that makes him smile even more and I see this little dimple on his left cheek. I stare at it and bite my lip to hold myself back because he’s beyond gorgeous. “Well, here are your flowers.” He moves the roses toward me. I want to touch his fingers when we make the exchange. Just a little touch. Who knows if I’ll ever have this chance with him again? I place my forefinger over his pinky and glide my finger against his as I grasp the flowers. His composure stiffens, but more out of surprise than retreat. Hmmm... I think we have cause and effect here. “Thanks,” I reply after the flowers are safely in my hand. “I appreciate you bringing them down to me.” “No problem,” he says as he moves away from the wall and toward the door. “Guess I better head back upstairs.” I want to scream, DON’T GO! Instead, I start to follow his movements as he approaches the door.
“Thanks again.” I throw out a couple of words to keep the conversation going, hoping that maybe he’ll stay a few seconds longer. His fingers cover the doorknob and he starts to turn it. Damn, he’s leaving. I feel my face turning into a full blown pout. Attractive, no doubt. He pulls the door open in a super slow manner. So slow it has to be deliberate. My heart nearly skips a beat as it hopes... Then his movement stops and he turns around to face me. There’s a slight smirk on his lips. Oh please, oh please, I silently plead. Ask me anything. “I’m not sure what you have planned tonight.” He pauses as his eyes scan over my clothes likely assessing what I’m wearing or not wearing. Definitely not “going out” threads. “Well,” he continues. “I bought some food to cook on the way home. Nothing fancy. Just pasta. Would you like to come up for dinner in about an hour? I need to get the place presentable.” And there it is. Plain as the nose on my face. I’m sporting an earsplitting grin and have to lock my knees to keep from jumping up and down. There’s no way I can answer him and look cool at this point, so I just go with it. Here comes the real me... “Oh yes, I’d love to join you.” Love and you in the same sentence don’t seem to scare him. In fact he appears relieved. Guess even Panty Droppers have insecurities. Good to know. “Great.” His enthusiasm can’t be missed and we now have matching grins. Just too damn cute. “I’ll head up and start on the presentable part.” “I’ll do the same.” At his questioning look, I explain, “The presentable part.” I laugh as I tug at my five sizes too big t-shirt. “You’re fine and look comfortable.” He has to be kidding, but I don’t think he is. “I’ll upgrade my comfortable though,” I say. “Okay. See you in a few.” And he winks at me. Winks and smirks, then closes the door. I fall against it and slide down to the floor. I think my move is called a supported swoon. But I can’t rest on my laurels for long, I have one hour to turn from sweatpants girl into a snappy, casual hottie. I get up, still a bit shaky, possibly from adrenaline and hormones. Both seem to be on overdrive. Reaching for my phone on the entry table, I pick it up and touch the black screen. I need to see the time. I have to pace myself. But instead of the time, I see my call with Monica never ended... Holy shit, she heard the entire exchange I had with The Panty Dropper. “Oh my God, Monica. I’m so...” She doesn’t let me continue. “Don’t say another word, Em. I’ll be right up.” And the call goes dead.
Ready, Set, Go WHILE I’M WAITING for Monica to arrive, my vocabulary has consisted of three words. Oh. My. God.
Spoken repeatedly as I walk around in circles by the door and occasionally glance at myself in the mirror. Which doesn’t help at all. Finally, she knocks and I swing the door open to see her arms loaded down with clothes, shoes and a couple of makeup bags. She walks right past me, not even stopping to say hello. “Em, follow me,” she says over her shoulder. I’m stunned but shut the door and follow. “Yes, mistress.” I giggle. “Oh, you have no idea. You will do everything I say, capiche?” she laughs but I can sense she’s not to be trifled with right now. “Can you believe it?” I ask as we enter my bedroom. “He invited me up to his apartment.” “He invited you,” she stops and assesses my attire, “looking like that?” “Do I look that bad?” “Yes, but all the more reason to think he really likes you for you.” She speaks while placing everything in her arms on my bed. The spread takes over the entire thing. After she’s finished and her arms are empty, she turns to me and points to my master bath. “Into the shower. Exfoliate and shave... everything.” “Everything?” I think I know what she means, but, really, I’ve never had sex on a first date. No matter how much I’ve had to drink. Surely, she doesn't think I might drop my panties for him in spite of his nickname. “You heard me. Use the razor everywhere!” She’s looking at me and seems annoyed. I back into the bathroom, afraid to say anymore. She returns to the bed and searches through the items on it. “I don’t think this will work.” I watch her toss a couple pairs of jeans onto the floor as she talks to herself. “These skinny jeans are perfect, though.” She moves to the other side of the bed and sees me standing by the bath’s door. Her disapproving glare makes me scurry toward the shower. “I’m going,” I yell, grabbing a towel and new razor.
FRESHLY SHOWERED AND shaved, I’m standing beside Monica in my bathrobe. She displays the outfit that
I’m wearing tonight. There isn’t room to question her. The thought of even doing so scares me, to be honest. She’s chosen a pair of dark jeans with a little subtle acid wash over the front. I pull them off the bed and see that they’ve never been worn. “Monica, I can’t wear these. The tag is still attached.” I hand them back to her and watch her gently pull the tag from the jeans. “There. Put them on. I want to see how they fit.” I obey and drop the robe to the floor and jump as she lets out a gasp. “What the hell are you wearing? A tank and black cotton briefs?” She holds up some sexy panties. “I found these in the back of your drawer.” “I can’t and won’t wear them, because he’s not going to see them. I’ve never slept with anyone on my first date.” I look her dead in the eyes. “Never.” “Is this a hard and fast rule of yours?” she asks. “Because I overheard your exchange together. Remember? I could feel the chemistry between you through the line.” I giggle and tilt my head. “I know. There definitely was something...” “Well, your old yoga pants didn’t scare him away so keep what you have on, but don’t forget to bring a condom just in case.” She thrusts the jeans at me again and I take them for good this time. I squeeze myself into the legs and with a few little jumps the jeans make it over my hips. I hope they give a little after wearing them. They seem too tight, but after sucking in my stomach I get them buttoned. “Tell me they stretch,” I say. “Because I can only hold my stomach in so long.” “Quit whining. You look great.” She takes me by the arm. “Now, hair and makeup before the shirt goes on.” I’m being lead into the bathroom. “Sit on the toilet, lid down.” I start to laugh and she joins me. “Thanks so much for helping me tonight. I feel bad that I’m ditching you.” I place my hand on her forearm. “You’re a great friend. You know that, right?” “Same to you, Em. We’ve been through a lot together these last couple of years.” She stops for a second and smiles. “Here’s how you can make up for tonight. Have something naughty to tell me tomorrow.” She just doesn’t give up. We laugh and she gets busy with the blow dryer, tugging my head in every which direction. It’ll be a miracle if there’s any hair left when she’s finished. After finishing my makeover, she finally allows me to look into the mirror. It’s amazing. She’s made my frizzy hair look shiny and bouncy. Those two words have never been used to describe my hair. “Wow. How did you get my hair to do this?” “It’s the serum I used. My stylist swears by it and I have to agree. I’ve never seen your hair so tamed.”
She smiles big, proud of her creation: me. “I’m going to buy a vat of this stuff,” I remark while touching my hair. “And my eyes look smoky but not porno. Perfect.” “You look great if I do say so myself. But we aren’t through. Next is the top and shoes.” “Okay, Personal Shopper. Finish me.” We walk back to the bed and I see the shirt set out for the evening. It’s a black chiffon blouse with sleeves gathered at the wrist. The hem is longer in the back giving it a flowing look. It’s feminine and not over-the-top sexy or dressy. “I love this top,” I murmur as she helps me get the blouse on so my hair stays in place. “Now the shoes.” She has a pair of red pumps dangling from her fingers. I know these shoes, but I’ve not seen them in ages. They’re her “one-night stand” pumps. “Not happening. I know what you’re up to.” I back a few feet away. “I can hear my panties dropping on the ground just by looking at those evil things.” “What are you talking about? It’s Valentine’s Day. Red works.” She’s approaching me with the shoes and I curse the fact that we wear the same size. “True, but those shoes are dangerous. Every time you’ve worn them out they end up on the floor of an unknown man’s apartment.” I hear her muttering but can’t make out what she’s saying. She kneels to the ground and has me lift my leg. I acquiesce and put the shoes on. Damn if they don’t fit great. “Alright, I’ll wear them, but I’m breaking their bad reputation tonight,” I state. “Whatever.” She hands me a tube of lipstick. “Wear this one tonight. It’s the perfect red for you.” “I don’t wear red.” “How many Panty Droppers have asked you out in your life?” I look at her defeated. “Exactly, so pucker up and go with it.” “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this bossy before.” I’m standing in front of the mirror over my dresser applying the lipstick. She’s right, the color looks great. “I’m your biggest cheerleader tonight and don’t mean to come across bossy. But an opportunity like this doesn’t come knocking at your door every day.” We both catch the irony and burst out laughing. “So true.” I stand up and face her, placing my hands out to the side. “What do you think?” “You look great,” she approves. “There’s something about you tonight. I bet he can’t keep his hands off you.” “It’s strange. I feel different too.” I’m nervous in an excited way, not the usual I wonder if he likes me mood. It’s pretty clear he does. The connection was there earlier. “One more thing.” Monica reaches into her bag of tricks and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. “Show me to your shot glasses.” “I don’t think this is a good idea,” I warn.
“Just one. It’ll loosen you up. Besides you never get sick when you mix alcohol. You old rock gut.” I place two shot glasses on the counter and watch the amber liquid pour from the bottle. We pick them up and tap them against each other. “Here’s to Valentine’s Day. Who knows? It may become the best day of your life.” “Yeah, who knows? Cheers.” I place the glass to my lips and slam the whiskey back. “Wow. I forgot how wicked that stuff is. I’ll need a breath mint for sure now.” Monica digs around in her purse and hands me some mints. “We can’t have you reeking of booze.” “Oh, I almost forgot. I need to spray on some perfume.” Before the whole word perfume is out of my mouth, I see Monica holding her cherished Chanel No. 5. “Jeez, you’re quick.” She has me hold out my arms like she’s spraying me with bug repellent. I’m afraid that she’s overdoing it, but her movements are quick and few. It’s like I’ve been spritzed not doused, so hopefully, I won’t overwhelm him. Him. Ethan, The Panty Dropper. I can’t believe my luck. Glancing at the clock on the microwave I see that I need to leave now or I’ll be late. “Well, this is it,” I tell Monica bending down to grab my tote. “Wish me luck.” “I hope you both get lucky.” Monica can’t quit the push for us to have sex and I give her the stink eye. “Hey, I’m living vicariously through you tonight.” “I know.” After giving her a hug, I head to the door. “Thanks for everything. I mean it. And if I’m never heard from again, his name is Ethan Murphy, apartment 814.” “Got it,” she says with a smile. “I’ll stay and clean off your bed, though I hope you don’t sleep in it tonight.” Funny, but something inside of me just might be fine with that too.
Dinner is served I TAKE THE elevator up to his floor. It’s just two flights via the stairs, but I can’t risk twisting my ankle in
these heels. As the elevator carries me up, I get almost giddy. The door opens and I walk out into the hall taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down. There are fewer apartments on his floor than on mine. Since it’s the top of the building, I’m imagining they’re more spacious, penthouse style. The thought makes me wonder what he does to afford such a place. He seems fairly young, around thirty or so. Well, I’m going to find out a lot about him. I raise my hand and form a fist. Here it goes. My knuckles tap on the door. Hopefully, the knock was loud enough for him to hear. Literally, two seconds pass and the door swings open. He’s in dark jeans with a black fitted shirt. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbows. But the killer for me is that he has on a burgundy apron. Nothing says sexy like a man cooking me dinner while donning an apron. I sense trouble and think I just heard a nail in the coffin of “I don’t sleep with someone on the first date” get pounded into the wood. He’s smiling and I smile back. “Hey. Come on in.” He shuffles to the side to make room for my entrance while his eyes move over me. Stopping at the shoes. “Wow, you look great.” Monica was right. Damn her and these wicked pumps. “Thanks. So do you. I love the apron.” I lightly brush my fingers across the part of the apron covering his chest as I pass by. He stiffens like the last time when I touched his finger. Seems like he’s sensitive to my touch. In a good way too. I pause after walking past him, waiting for him to lead me into his apartment. Something about his smile has taken away the butterflies in my stomach. I’ve never felt this at ease on a first date. Amazing since he’s The Panty Dropper. I think it’s the fact that I feel welcome here. Being invited into his home is different than meeting at a busy, noisy restaurant or club. There isn’t anything formal about tonight at all. Just two people having dinner, getting to know one another. How well is to be determined. “Dinner is close to being finished,” he says turning toward me after shutting the door. “I have to confess that I’ve never cooked for anyone before.” “Really?” I respond. “Should I be scared?” “Probably, but if the sauce stinks then we can blame Ragu.” He laughs and I really like the sound when he does. “Ragu has never let me down,” I confess.
As he comes to stand next to me, I feel his hand on the small of my back and it’s my turn to stiffen at a touch. He gently pushes against me as he walks out of the entry area. I purposely follow him slowly, this way his hand stays pressed against me. It feels heavenly. I believe I’m in all kinds of sweet trouble tonight. We arrive in his open kitchen and living room area. The space is big and bright. There’s crown molding, high-end granite and shiny, stainless steel appliances. His place looks nothing like my rental just two floors below. Everything seems customized. I look at him confused. “Your place is unreal. I don’t feel like I’m in my own building. How did you talk them into letting you do all of this?” I wave my hand across the whole room because everywhere I turn there’s something that seems out of the ordinary. “Well, actually I own this apartment,” he answers me sheepishly. “I didn’t realize that you could own an apartment here. I figured they were all rentals. How did you pull that off?” “When I said I own this apartment, I really should say I own the building too.” Now he’s appearing even more embarrassed. “So you’re my landlord then?” I say teasingly. “I’m afraid so. And a very rude one too. I haven’t gotten you a drink yet. How does some red wine sound?” Oh he’s good, real good. “You don’t want to talk about being the EM Properties, LLC, that I write my rental check to, do you?” I want to know more about him now, as I’m totally intrigued. “Have a seat at the bar. I’ll get you some wine and explain.” “It’s just unexpected.” I follow orders and take a seat on the bar stool, hoping the jeans have stretched a little to make bending at the middle easier. And they have, thank God. He sits a half-full wine glass in front of me. “You’re the only person in this building that knows my secret. Are you good at keeping them?” “I’ve been told I’m like a vault, so I think you’re safe.” “A vault? Meaning impenetrable?” I snort and he blushes. God, he’s getting more and more irresistible. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.” I wink for fun. Turnaround is fair play after all. He smiles back so I know we’re good. “Does the onsite management know?” “No one knows. Including the doorman and super.” He’s shaking his head. “With living here I prefer it that way. And as long as they receive their paychecks and are treated fairly, they seem okay. I have a manager contracted to be my go-between.” “I’m actually amazed. I would’ve never guessed.” “The whole ownership thing happened because of my job. I work for a real estate investment trust. I travel around the country looking for distressed properties to add to our portfolio.” He’s smart, successful
and gorgeous. Add a genuine sweetness to the mix and I feel like the luckiest dinner guest of all time. “I’ve never heard of a real estate trust.” I’m way out of my league here. I’ll need to concentrate to follow along. “I won’t bore you with the details. But the partners at my company didn’t want to invest in this building, so I asked if I could buy it personally. They not only agreed, but helped me find financing.” “You’re really young to be this successful. I bet your parents are proud of you.” “I think so. Funny how that means more as I get older. Nothing like having my father say, ‘Well done, son.” His sweetness might just be irresistible. I glance down at Monica’s red pumps and smile. “My parents feel the same way. They’ve always supported my career decisions and helped me along the way. But it feels good to be totally supporting myself now.” “Yes, it does. So I told you what I do; now it’s your turn.” I watch him move to the stove and check on something in the oven. I sip more of my wine before I answer him. “I fly for my job. Literally. I’m a flight attendant.” I can tell I have his full attention now. He’s lowered the knife he was using to cut up the vegetables back down onto the cutting board. “Really? So you understand the travelling thing pretty well too.” “Totally. I’m gone around twenty-one days a month. Most airlines use fifteen days as a base, but I tend to pick up a few extra days here and there. Maybe someone’s child is sick or has something going on at school. It’s easy to find extra days.” “Time wise, that sounds a lot like me. I’m on the road every weekday. Occasionally, there will be a property here in the Bay Area, though I can’t remember the last time that happened. Maybe when I did the due diligence for this building.” “So you’re all over the country?” “Pretty much. One week I might be in New York, then the next week it’s Saint Louis.” “Oh, I’ve had a couple layovers in Saint Louis. Great place for Italian food.” “The Hill, right?” he asks. I nod. “Best Italian food I’ve ever had.” “The whole Hill area is such a unique community and unexpected for that city.” Another sip of my wine and I’m done with my first glass. I’ve not had anything to eat since lunch, so I’m wondering if I should slow down. “Your glass is empty. Can’t have that.” He grabs the glass before I can protest, and refills it to almost the top. Interesting... “I bet we’ve been to a lot of the same cites.” I throw caution and likely my morals to the wind and take a drink of the wine. “Do you have a favorite?” “It’s hard to pick just one. I have a few favorites, though.” “Me too.”
He takes a big drink of his wine, finishing off his glass and pours himself another one. The red is flowing tonight. “I really enjoy New Orleans. The food and people there are great. Do you fly into there often?” “I actually went to Mardi Gras last year. Talk about wild.” I notice him looking at my chest and I just know he’s wondering if I showed anything for beads. He coughs and checks the oven again. Maybe I shouldn’t have said wild so enthusiastically. Damn alcohol. He probably thinks I’m easy now. A boy in every city kind of gal. Oh crap. He pulls a casserole type dish out of the oven and sits it on the burners. It’s bubbling at the top and smells divine. “It’s done,” he says laying aside his oven mitts. “I’ve never seen that side of New Orleans. I’m usually with business colleagues, so my trips have been more subdued.” “Honestly, I only watched the crazy from the periphery. Let’s just say it was interesting.” “I bet.” I’m pretty sure he’s relieved after I tell him that I wasn’t a wanton hussy in New Orleans as his sweet smile has returned. He goes to the refrigerator and brings a bowl to the counter. It’s a green salad with chopped up Romaine lettuce. I sip my wine as I watch him gather up the vegetables and toss them into the salad. He looks up at me and smiles so big I even see that sweet dimple appear. There’s just something unbelievably sexy about watching him cook. So I return his smile though I’d rather be kissing that dimple right now. “I think we’re ready to dish up our plates. I made my favorite. Spaghetti casserole. Like I said, nothing exciting.” “But it looks and smells great.” I watch him slowly remove his apron. Even the simple movement of him raising it over his head and straightening his shirt makes me want to stick a dollar bill as a tip in his pocket. He’s just that smooth. I steady myself as I rise out of the chair just in case my lower half has gone numb from my tight jeans. All’s well as I make my way around from the counter bar to stand by Ethan. Even with my heels on he’s probably a good four inches taller than me. He looks me over again like he did when he answered the door. It feels inappropriately nice. “I mentioned earlier that you look great didn’t I?” He’s playing with me now. “A girl can never hear that enough,” I say while lightly touching his arm. This time I keep the connection and don’t pull away. He stares at my hand and brings his eyes up to mine. They’re hooded and a darker blue than before. He’s definitely turned on. We both are. And before I know it, he’s gently spun me around pressing me against the counter’s edge. He releases my arms and places his hands on each side of my face. His touch is warm and I feel his thumbs gently rubbing my skin. It’s sweet and enduring and my eyes remain fixed on his.
I lean into him as he leans forward. His eyes move to my lips and I know he’s going to kiss me. And he does... Turning his head to the side, his lips softly meet mine. Our bodies are only touching via lips and his hands. I want to touch him too, so my hands find his waist. It seems like the best place to land. I feel the top of jeans and gently rub his skin through the shirt. Solid, there’s nothing soft about him. His kisses become harder, more intense. The kind I can get lost in. And just when I think he’s about to draw me into his arms, he pushes back instead and his hands fall from my face. His lips are gone from mine, but their touch lingers like a phantom. And I know one thing’s for sure. That was the best first kiss I’ve ever had. As we both catch our breath, I see his lips and I start to laugh. Not just a chuckle or snort, but a breath stealing, full-fledged laugh. I try not to but I can’t help it. My red lipstick... It was everywhere. Like, Ethan the clown, everywhere. He seems confused by my odd reaction, as he should be, and all I can do is point to his lips as I laugh. Finally, he gets the hint and rubs his fingers across them. Now the red is smeared even more than it was, on his lips, face and fingers. I quickly grab a paper towel by the sink and wet it down. “Ethan,” I spit out between laughs. I take the wet towel and gently wipe the red off his face. He’s kind of laughing with me now, which is a relief. “I’m so sorry,” I say after finally cleaning him up and calming down. “What a way to ruin a great kiss too.” “So, great kiss, huh?” “Very much so.” I make sure our eyes are connected before I continue. “Likely the best first kiss ever.” “Really?” He’s all grins. “Really,” I repeat like an echo. “I usually don’t wear red lipstick. It’s obviously a beauty hazard.” “But it looks good on you.” He glances down at my shoes and I suddenly feel the need to divert. Maybe it’s my hollow stomach. I’m not sure. “We probably should plate up dinner.” I point to the stove. “It’s looking lonely.” “You’re right. I got a little carried away. But when you touched me...” He stops without finishing. “Hey. I enjoyed it a lot too,” I reassure him. “Maybe we can get carried away after dinner. No lipstick, though.” “I like that idea.” He gives me a little bump with his hip as he walks by me toward the plates on the counter. Stinker. “Hey.” I give him a little punch on the arm as I walk up next to him. Funny we turned off the kissing, but we can’t keep our hands to ourselves. I hear Monica’s voice from earlier saying he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of me, and I wonder what else she might be right about.
We fill our plates and head to his dining table. It’s set with black and gray placemats. They go perfectly with his plates. He even has cloth napkins set out for us. Very impressive and very metro. He sits at the head of the table and I sit to his left. “This is a stylish table setting for a man who never cooks for company.” I take my first bite of pasta and it’s pretty damn good. “Everything on the table is a gift from my mother.” “Well, then cheers to your mother. She has good taste.” I raise my wine glass and take a sip. It appears to be full again. He’s pretty sneaky. I don’t remember him refilling it. “Yes, she’s an interior designer by trade.” “Nice.” “She helped me redesign the apartment and decide on what to purchase for furniture. I eventually just gave her carte blanche to do whatever. With my traveling schedule I couldn’t keep up with the approvals.” “Good decision. The place looks like it belongs in a magazine.” “She wants to get it in a local publication here in the Bay. But I’m concerned about being exposed as the building owner.” “That makes sense. It’s hard to believe that you’ve kept it a secret so far.” “I guess it wouldn’t be the end of the world. But I don’t want people knocking at my door with problems. It could get ugly.” “Ugly, like a knock on the door at midnight from someone who’s locked out of their apartment. Or even worse, has a stopped up toilet.” We both laugh. “Exactly. That’s the reason I have a reliable super on site. When I’m home, I really want to be home, not dreading a knock at the door. Travel has a way of wearing me out.” “I hear you there.” We continue eating and sipping on our wine. As we finish, he opens bottle number two or is it three? Either way, I’m feeling slightly tipsy. I wonder if it’s part of an evil plan. I’m pretty sure I’ve drunk more than him too. He was busy cooking and I was busy staring... “I need to slow down on the wine. I think I’m holding my fourth glass now.” He says nothing out loud but I can tell from his face that he finds it amusing. “I need to pace myself.” He picks up our plates and carries them to the sink. Totally mum. “I’m not kidding.” He’s smirking at me now. “Aren’t you going to say something?” “You want the truth?” he asks. “I think so.” My answer is a plea to be gentle. He sits down at the now cleared table. Cleared of everything but the wine. “Tonight has been great.” He briefly glances down to the table like he’s gathering courage to continue. “I can’t remember when I’ve had such a good time getting to know someone.” “I feel the same too.” My words are a confirmation that there’s something between us. “But what’s
with all this wine, mister?” “I like the way it makes your face blush.” His hand covers mine as it lays flat on the table. I feel his fingers slide under my palm. “With each glass, your skin lights up. It’s so beautiful.” “Wow.” I’m shocked. Oh boy. What do I say to this one? I’m flushed even more now. I feel it. My eyes stare at our intertwined hands as I search for what I want to say or do. “I’ve embarrassed you?” My hair is a covering around my face as I shake my head to let him know that he hasn’t. Actually, the words he spoke make me want to jump up and kiss his beautiful face. But even with my wined-up brain, I know things are moving fast. Getting too real. The kiss in the kitchen, my hand that he’s holding now a little tighter. I just don’t trust myself. And I’m afraid to look up; he’s just too tempting. But I have to... “You haven’t embarrassed me at all.” Our hands are magnetic. Pulling away from him is difficult, but I finally manage it. I need to break our connection for a minute. “I’m making you feel uncomfortable.” He scoots his chair away from me and I want to grab it and bring it back closer. I’m completely conflicted with myself when it comes to him. “Please don’t think that.” I hope my eyes speak more than my words. “I’ve enjoyed everything about tonight. That’s the problem.” “Problem?” he asks. “Enlighten me.” “Well, I’ve been attracted to you for some time.” I can’t believe I’m confessing this. Monica would kill me. I might even kill myself. “This is enlightening.” He glides the chair closer again and I’m relieved. “So, before we met today?” “I’ve seen you working out in the building’s gym. It’s great by the way.” “Thanks, but I would have remembered seeing you. I’m sure.” He appears to be concentrating, probably trying to remember me from before today. “I doubt it.” I think he’s given up on searching his memory as his face relaxes. “I lurked in the back when I saw you at the gym. I was sweaty and gross. You on the other hand...” “I’m sweaty and gross at the gym too.” “You’re the sexy version of sweaty. Believe me.” I really emphasize those last couple of words with a little attitude. I think one day after a “gym experience” he earned the nickname, The Panty Dropper. It was the day I hid behind some weight machines and watched his backside while he ran on the treadmill. This train of thought isn’t helping me at all. “It’s crazy how we met today.” He stops and the mood between us shifts to serious. “I feel like I’ve known you for years. It’s odd, a good odd, though.” “Reincarnation maybe?” The mood is lighter again as he laughs at my question. “Would you like to see what’s on TV?” he asks cautiously. “We could rent something off cable.” “Sure.” He pushes back his chair and stands and I follow his lead into the living area.
It’s open to the kitchen with a wall adorned with the largest big screen television I’ve ever seen. Beautiful built-in cabinets filled with books and modern decorations encase the television as it fits perfectly into the center. The surroundings form an altar to the god of the room. “That’s some TV you have there.” We’ve moved toward the couch and he motions for me to take a seat. Do I choose to sit in the middle or at one of the ends? Or maybe somewhere between the middle and the end? I decide on between the middle and end. So confusing. He mirrors my decision by doing the same. We have a little space and can easily reach out and hold hands. Not that we should or will. “I’m not a big TV person.” His words make me giggle. He raises his brow probably wondering what brought on my response. “For someone who isn’t a ‘TV person’ you have a gigantic TV.” I use those annoying finger quotes in a teasing way when I repeat his words. “Remember, I gave carte blanche to my mother. I guess she thinks that every bachelor builds the room around the TV.” We laugh and he starts scrolling through the cable channels. “I was going to ask what your favorite TV shows were but since you don’t watch much...” I stop speaking, hoping he’ll continue. “I watch a few shows when I’m out of town in the hotel room at night. Helps me unwind.” I angle myself toward him on the cushion and bring my legs up where they’re now folded under me. My arm stretches across the back. He turns and mimics me with the exception of his legs. One bends, the other stays on the floor. He’s almost crossing his leg at the knee. Our bodies form an open circle as he places his arm over mine. I lean against the back of his couch settling into the soft cushions. It’s more comfortable than I thought it would be. “This couch is great.” “My mom,” he states. “She knows I wanted comfort. Looks were second.” “Lucky for you. This has both.” My fingers rub the upholstery. “Her true masterpiece is my bathroom.” “Really? I hate my bathroom.” My hand covers my mouth as I realize he owns my bathroom. “Oh crap. I’m sorry. It’s just that...” He interrupts as I try to recover from insulting him. “It’s okay. Why do you think I redid mine?” He smiles and reaches for my hand. “Let me show you.” He’s standing in front of me clasping my hand and helps lift me from the couch. Seeing the bath means we venture into his bedroom. A little warning bell is going off somewhere in my head, drowned out by the wine, literally. But I’m too curious to pay attention and willingly follow him. Our hands are magnets once again. Sure enough we’ve crossed into his bedroom and it’s ultra-modern and male. “I was out of town for two weeks when she finished the work. Was a great surprise.”
“Your bedroom.” I glance around the room. “I love it. It really fits you too.” “You think?” He seems hesitant. “Maybe too modern?” “No, it says, ‘I’m a serious grown-up.’” “Never thought about it that way. Definitely moved away from the college look from before.” We take a few more steps and stop at a door. He cracks it a bit and then shuts it quickly. “Had to check and see if I picked up all the towels.” He gently tugs me toward him. “Close your eyes.” I do as I’m told. He pulls my hand and I move with him and quietly hear the door open. As we progress forward I can feel the floor go from hardwood to something smoother, like tile. A couple more steps and we stop. He lowers my hand and tells me to open my eyes. I slowly peek at the room and then turn to scan it. It matches the blacks and grays in his bedroom. Black, gray, and white. Amazing. A large mirror dresses the wall above the double sinks. My reflection stares back at me. Ethan’s right, I’m flushed. Glowing. Wine and him. Has to be both. I run my hands through my hair and face him. “It’s unbelievable.” My hands glide along the sink. “Really.” The walls are straight lines of horizontal glass tiles. Grays meet black and mix with white. My eyes end at the shower. The same tile on the walls extends there too. The shower is an invisible space as it’s encased in glass from floor to ceiling. “You like it?” he asks curiously. “Love is more like it.” I open the heavy glass door to the shower. It has to be seven feet tall from the step-in ledge to where it’s flush with the ceiling. The glass connection is tight as a drum, sealed. “Look up at the ceiling,” he instructs. I see a rainfall shower head. A personal favorite. I’ve stayed in a couple of hotels that have them. I never want to leave once I’m under the water’s stream. So relaxing. “God, I love taking showers under these.” I throw my head back as if the water’s cascading down on me. I can almost imagine its touch and feel its warmth. “Emily.” I hear Ethan’s strained voice and find his eyes on me. He’s looking at me with an “I want to devour you” fire in his eyes. Something inside me silently hopes he does. It’s clear to me. Right now, one of life’s crossroads stands a couple feet away from me. Either I answer the desire in this man’s eyes with a kiss and maybe more, or diffuse it with a rejection by walking past him coldly. I see no other route out of these walls of glass as he stands at the opening. Slowly, I approach him, still trying to decide. But the second I hear him whisper my name again the battle’s over. He’s won. “Good damn, you win, Ethan.” His arms are spread and flexed high on the glass door’s edge. My hands meet behind the back of his neck and settle in the soft waves of his hair. “Good damn?” He smiles all sexy. “Don’t you mean God?” “No,” I explain while twirling locks of his hair in my fingers and trying not to get distracted from his scent. “It’s more, ‘damn, I’m giving into you’ and I’m pretty sure it’s going to be ‘good.’ See I can’t resist you anymore. Not gonna even try.”
Ethan pulls me to him in an embrace. His hands are drifting to the edge of my shirt and I feel warm fingers skim across my lower back. Desperate. Now that I’ve given in, that’s how I feel. Our lips remember and continue where we left off in the kitchen. Nothing is tentative now. We’ve broken through the awkward and now we’re heading to the bed. When he scoops me up in his arms, my hands clasp behind him holding on to his collar. My eyes find Monica’s red heels and I push one shoe off with the toe of the other. I kick my foot and the red shoe goes flying off. “I shouldn’t have worn these,” I mutter between breaths and kisses. “God, I love them.” His voice is raspy. His breathing’s short. I maneuver the other shoe off and it goes sailing. He lays me down on the white comforter. My hands fan out and it feels crisp and cool under my touch. “But they’re one-night stand pumps.” He’s standing over me, silent. I watch him tugging his own shoes off. “And I don’t do one-night stands. Ever.” “Oh, Emily, this isn’t a one-night stand.” “Well, good damn.” Warm and blissful, I lay across his chest. We’ve given all we can to each other tonight. His arm and comforter drape over and anchor me. I snuggle into him further and my eyes start to close while I smile in contentment. What a night. What a guy. I say a little prayer of thanks that sixes can look like eights. Otherwise the doorman might have never made the wrong delivery.
AS I SLOWLY wake up from a sleep-induced fog, I remember where I am. In bed. With Ethan. The touch of
the sheets and the smell of him are familiar to me now. His warm body spoons mine and we fit together perfectly. I want to stay here cocooned in his bed all day. I’m afraid of losing our connection and hope the light of day doesn’t melt away what we had together. Either way I won’t regret it. Last night was worth it. I gingerly open my eyes, roll over and see Ethan, all disheveled hair and scruffy face. He’s in fullblown panty dropper mode. And from the look on his face, I have a sneaking suspicion that fate and red heels worked some magic. He’s sporting the biggest grin. It smoothes away any worries of where we might stand now. His dimpled grin sweetly calms me. I end up laughing while telling him good morning. He pulls me into his arms and makes sure it’s great.
Epilogue IT’S 2 P.M. on Saturday, February 14th, exactly a year since I met Ethan. My dear father leads me to the
closed doors leading to the church’s sanctuary. Our arms are intertwined. Slowly, we make our way to the entrance. We stop and wait until the ushers open the doors. I hear my chosen processional song and know that we’re about to be revealed. My father whispers softly as the doors open, “Be happy, Emily.” Holding back tears, I answer back, “I am. Very much so.” He escorts me toward the altar and my love where very soon I’ll become Mrs. Panty Dropper.
About Liv Morris USA Today bestselling author, Liv Morris, was raised in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri. She now resides on the rock known as St. Croix, USVI with her first and hopefully last husband. After relocating twelve times during his corporate career, she qualifies as a professional mover. Learning to bloom where she's planted, Liv brings her moving and life experience to her writing. READ MORE OF LIV’S BOOKS www.livmorris.com Get a FREE bestselling book each month by signing up for my VIP List! CONNECT WITH LIV Facebook Instagram: @livmorrisNYC
Mr. First Time
by LJ Shen
Thank you, Karen Dale Harris, my editor and animal-lover, for editing this piece for free to contribute to our cause
Chapter One I MET MY first love on the same night as I had my first kiss. Only problem? It wasn’t with the same guy.
Sage, AKA Mr. Freddie Prinze Jr., was what coming-of-age, 90s movies were made of. Tall, lean, blond, and unfairly gorgeous. Even though he was a freshman, like me, he had managed to snag a place on our high school’s basketball team. He was popular, well-mannered, and agreeable. Everything I thought I liked. Until him. It was our third date when Sage decided it was time to shove his tongue into my mouth with the grace of a rapist eel. We were at a house party hosted by a girl named Mia who I took Spanish with. She hadn’t even invited me. Sage did. The guy was invited to everything, including White House formal events, so it seemed. I basked in his popularity like it was mine to enjoy. And until that moment, I would have thought being shoved into the small pantry with my back against lines of Kraft Mac & Cheese boxes and having my mouth assaulted was a small price to pay. It was my first kiss. Yay me, right? Wrong. For someone who inhaled five romance books a week, the experience felt oddly anticlimactic. The kiss was mostly confusing and wetter than the pool at the back of this suburban villa we were at. Kind of the same sensation as having my dog, Bruno, lick my whole face when I got back from school, only with added anxiety, because I froze and didn’t reciprocate. At all. I remember thinking my cold feet were the absolute worst thing that could happen to me—I just stood there like a dead fish with the shelves digging into my back as I stared at Sage wide-eyed while his tongue molested my mouth. But I was wrong. The really embarrassing part happened when a big shadow fell across us, the light to the pantry switched on. A guy walked in nonchalantly and plucked a bag of potato chips and a six-pack of beer from the shelves, ignoring us completely. “Uh, excuse me?” Sage disconnected his lips from mine—thank God—and narrowed his eyes at the large figure, which I still couldn’t register enough to identify. Then I heard his voice, and it was low, and it was confident, and it made my bones shake. I didn’t even think it was possible until then. “Problem?” the big dude inquired, leaning forward. His face got closer, clearer. My throat bobbed involuntarily. “Because if you have one, I can show you the way to the door. My fucking house, my fucking rules, kid.” Was he good-looking? I guess. With brown hair, hazel eyes, a lazy smirk, and a tall, muscular body. But he wasn’t my style. His eyes were hard and his jaw too square, giving him a harsher look than the
people I hung out with. And I recognized him. He was a senior at my school. His arms were full of tattoos, and he was well on his way toward a full sleeve, and I remember thinking, What the hell are you doing, dude? We’re teenagers! We can’t commit to that kind of ink for the rest of our lives! I thought he was stupid. But I didn’t think it when he was suddenly so close to me in the pantry. Sage released a frustrated breath. “Sorry, man.” He lifted his hands in surrender. “I didn’t know it was —” “Who the fuck is this? She looks twelve.” The senior poked his finger at my arm, snorting out a condescending laugh. Ridiculing me. My mouth slacked, but then my eyes honed in on him. “I’m a freshman! Why are you being such a jerk? Is it, like, a medical condition?” Oh my God, Leigh. What the hell are you doing? What the hell are you saying? This guy was a punk, through and through. He smoked in the school’s parking lot every day and wore black skinny jeans with wallet chains and Dr. Martens and faded shirts with names of Norwegian punk bands no one knew. And I wasn’t sure what his name was, but I was pretty sure he was an anarchist and that I heard he once sprayed FUCK ALL YOU CORPORATE FUCKERS on a McDonald’s branch on the outskirts of our town. Charming. Scary-Ass Dude quirked one eyebrow—and why was my heart threatening to jump out of my throat and run to the other side of the continent?— and he chuckled darkly. He had a great laugh. And dimples. And yes, maybe he wasn’t as classically handsome as Sage, but he was hot. Everything about him screamed forbidden. And I’m not going to lie, the fact that my mom would have probably had a heart attack if I brought him home was a definite turn-on. “Jailbait has a mouth on her.” He slow-clapped, mocking me again. Sage tore his gaze from Scary-Ass Dude back to me. He didn’t know what to make of it. We weren’t arguing exactly, but we weren’t exactly being friendly either. What we were doing, I had no idea, but unlike my first kiss, I didn’t want it to stop. “Did you just call me Jailbait? Because I’m pretty sure you’ll end up behind bars even without my help.” I folded my arms over my chest, also pretty sure my sass was a bad idea. Oh. My. God. Someone, do something. Gag me. Punch me. Put me under witness protection. Why was I saying these things? It wasn’t like me. I mean, it was. I thought these things all the time, but I never uttered them out loud. Out loud, I was well-spoken and nice, a straight A student whose wardrobe contained her mom’s favorite sweaters. But with this guy, I wanted to spar more than I didn’t want to get thrown out of Mia’s party. Anything to stir something within him. And within me. “Okay, time for us to go.” Sage grabbed my hand before I got us both killed, and I didn’t want to take it, but did.
The senior smiled to himself, still looking at me funny. “Is Prince Dickbag your boyfriend?” His eyes never left mine. Somewhere in my peripheral vision, I saw Sage furrowing his brows in anger, and I heard him gritting out, “Yes, I am her boyfriend. Problem?” My heart pounded so violently, I actually felt the blood whooshing through my veins to the rest of my body. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. And I definitely couldn’t take my eyes off those chestnut hazels staring back at me. “Problem? Not at all.” Scary-Ass Dude cracked a can of beer and gulped half the thing in one go, belching loudly when his lips left the can. Then he switched the light off like we weren’t still there and started walking out of the pantry as if nothing happened. “Well, not a problem for me, but definitely a problem for you, buddy.”
Chapter Two HIS NAME WAS Zack.
I found that out the following Monday, in Spanish. I was the kind of student other pupils hated. I always took notes. My notebooks were neat rows of round letters and numbers. My locker? Super clean. And Zack was right—I did look like jailbait. At 5’3” and weighing no more than a hundred pounds, with freckles peppering my nose and cheeks, big green Bambi eyes and brown hair that was always collected into a long, tight braid, people sometimes mistook me for a thirteen-year-old despite that I was fifteen. “Leigh, right?” Mia elbowed me in Spanish. I snapped my head from my textbook in horror, glaring at her. She was a popular kid at school, while I hung out with what you would consider the nerds (by choice, of course). I blinked, searching her face as to why she would even speak to me. She smiled wide, and it dawned on me that she had the same mischievous flicker in her eyes that her older brother did. It gave them an unfair advantage over the rest of the human population. “Zack said that you’re coming with us to the warehouse tonight,” she stated matter-of-factly, arching one perfectly plucked, ultra-thin eyebrow. I blinked again. “Who is Zack?” “My brother. Jesus, Leigh. Don’t pretend like you don’t know who he is. Everybody knows who Zack Gold is.” I didn’t. But I wanted to, and that bothered me. I hadn’t made any plans with Sage since the party. We’d texted a few times, but hadn’t talked about that kiss. I think he didn’t like it either, and maybe that should have hurt my feelings, but it didn’t. Hell, Sage had said I was his girlfriend, and my heart had barely thudded at those words. But it thrashed like a motherfucker when Zack waved it off and gave me that lopsided smirk. I wanted to ask Mia so many questions: Warehouse? What warehouse? What time? Am I supposed to bring anything? Is it illegal? What are you guys doing there? Does that mean your brother likes me? Can I bring a friend? I’m kind of scared. Or I want to bring a friend. Am I going to die? But instead, I did something completely out of character. I nodded, raised one thumb up, and slammed my textbook shut, knowing full well I wasn’t going to decipher another word the whole school day. “Cuenta conmigo.” “Huh?” Mia scrunched her nose. I fought an eye roll. “Count me in.”
THAT NIGHT WAS the beginning of my unhealthy obsession with bad boys. I showed up at the address Mia
gave me armed with my best friend, Janine. Janine was even more of a nerd than I was, but just like me, she was curious about what was happening on the other side of the social fence. What were the cool kids doing? Drugs? Sex? Drugs and sex? Vandalism? We wanted to know. Honestly, our lives were like a bad episode of Freaks and Geeks, and we were wondering if theirs were like Requiem for a Dream. The warehouse was on the edge of our outrageously small and suburban town. I lived in such a strongly middle-class environment that the only deserted warehouse in town still looked like it could potentially be rented and used. The walls needed painting and the floor was dirty, but the windows weren’t broken and everything seemed awfully neat. The place was empty except for a small old coffee table and a few tattered couches, miss-matched in color and size, boxing the table from each side. I spotted Zack sitting on one of them, playing an acoustic guitar, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He played “Search and Destroy” by The Stooges, which was fitting because he seemed to be doing exactly that to my poor heart. Around him were a dozen seniors I didn’t know. All of them were punks and did cool stuff like dying their hair different colors. All of them had piercings. Many had tattoos. All had cars and driver’s licenses and I knew—I just knew—they were having sex. What the hell am I doing here? Janine’s face asked the same question. We didn’t belong. And except for Mia and one of her friends— Katie, a freshman too—everyone was a senior. There was a keg on the coffee table and a couple making out and fighting in the same breath in the corner of the room, but other than that, it was low key. Janine and I took a seat on a couch and compared history notes, too anxious to mingle. The weird thing was that Zack didn’t even look at me. Paid me zero attention. I had no idea why he’d invited me if he wasn’t going to offer me as much as a hello. That game I later excelled at? Push and pull? Cat and mouse? I didn’t even know of its existence when I was fifteen. Those ideas were foreign to me. Everything I knew about love, I’d learned from Danielle Steel books. And in all of them, the hero made his intentions clear. The obstacles were always external. I didn’t know that with teenagers, when you really like someone, your worst obstacle is…you. They played guitar, smoked and drank for hours before things died down. People began to trickle out of the warehouse, and even though Janine and I were talking the whole time, my mind wasn’t there. It was with Zack. And it was furious. How dare he! He wasn’t even on my radar! Now all I could think about is him. He invited me, but didn’t even say hi. What the hell is his problem? I should give Sage another chance. He was my first kiss.
We’re compatible. Zack is a man. I’m just a girl. Getting up from the sofa with a soft, frustrated growl, I made my way to the exit, Janine by my side. “Yo, Jailbait!” I heard when my foot hit the threshold. I didn’t want to turn around. My brain begged me not to. But my feet spun on their heels. Traitors. At least I managed to cock one eyebrow in what could have looked like boredom. He smiled, and why was it that every time Zachery Gold smiled at me, something weird and warm swelled in my chest and grabbed at my throat, rendering me speechless? He wore a black Crass tee, black skinny jeans, black Dr. Martens, and his disheveled, wavy, short brown hair was a mess. He patted the seat next to him on the couch, which until a second ago was filled with the pert ass of a chick I didn’t know and looked to be at least twenty-two. “Come over here.” “I’m not your pet,” I snarled. I didn’t know if I was overreacting or not reacting harshly enough. I just knew I wanted to fight him, even in front of all these people. That same lazy smirk that drove me mad found his lips again, and suddenly, I forgot my best friend was there. Or what my name was, for that matter. “C’mon.” He was now laughing, his straight white teeth on full display. (My teeth weren’t half as white and I didn’t even smoke.) “I wanna show you something.” A blush gripped at my neck, crawling all the way up to my skull and painting my face cherry red. “I can’t. My ride is heading home.” I tilted my head to Janine, whose eyes grew ten-times bigger. Yup. I just threw my best friend under the bus. That’s what’s up. “I’ll give you a ride,” Zack snapped. Janine tore her fingers through her curly ginger hair, using her free hand to push the glasses up the bridge of her nose. “You know what, Leigh? I think I really need to get home…” Before I was able to turn around and leave with her, poof! she disappeared. So much for our loyalty toward one another. Reluctantly (okay, who am I kidding?), enthusiastically, I made my way to Zack and plopped next to him, pretending to look exasperated and making a show of blowing away a lock of hair that had escaped my braid. I stared at him through narrowed eyes. “What is it?” I hissed. I didn’t hate him. I even liked him. So I had no reason to be this bitchy. But I was. I was because I liked him. And it scared me. Shitless. Zack tucked another cigarette into his mouth, cupped his hand, and lit it. He then rolled his t-shirt sleeve up and showed me his elaborate, colorful, half-done tattoo of a red dragon-snake and blue sea monster. The lower part of it was still in the sketchy stage and looked like a coloring-book drawing that hadn’t been filled in yet. He pointed at it with the hand that held the lighter. “Green or yellow?” My mouth fell open. I wanted to touch his arm, but it almost felt like it would burn if I were to touch
something so sinister. It wasn’t just a tattoo, like the one of a seahorse my cousin had or the ankle bracelet, Hayley, my friend, had. It was a motherfucking huge-ass painting that seemed to be part of his body. “Huh?” I asked dumbly, my eyes snapping to him. Normally, I was articulate. But the more time I spent with Zack—hell, the more time I didn’t spend with Zack but wanted to spend with him—the harder I crushed on him. “Green or yellow?” he repeated, fighting a smile. He got to me and he knew it. I blushed redder, looking away from him at the keg. “Green, I guess? Yellow won’t suit you. You’re too tan.” Every word that left my mouth felt stupid, contrived. It drove me mad. I wasn’t even in control of what I was saying. Too tan? He was a white dude with a bit of a tan. We lived in a state known for being the universe’s furnace. What the hell was I saying? “Green.” He tasted the verdict on his lips. “I like it. Like your eyes.” There was a moment—it was that moment—when our eyes lingered on one another for a second too long and everything was said with more than words. He liked me. Instead of shoving his tongue into my mouth in a stuffy pantry, he showed me with a look. I let my guard down reluctantly, unleashing a timid smile. “Thank you,” I said. His brows furrowed. “For what? It was a fact, Jailbait. Your eyes are green. I never said they were pretty.” That rewarded him with a punch to the arm. I touched the tattoo. It didn’t burn. His skin felt toe-curling against mine. I wanted to touch it more, and often, and without feeling like an idiot. “Lookee who has some underlying violent tendencies.” He threw his head back and laughed. “Your eyes are pretty, Jailbait. Too fucking pretty. Now let’s go.”
Chapter Three I WISH I could say that Zack kissed me that night when he drove me home in his old, silver Corvette, but he
didn’t. When I made a move to open the passenger door, he tugged at my braid twice and said, “So fucking cute. Never change on me, huh, Jailbait?” And he sped away. The next day was pretty much the same. I got invited to the warehouse, but this time I didn’t bring Janine along. And this time, Zack did say hi and patted the seat next to him, but even though I sat approximately five centimeters away from his deliciously hot scent—mint gum and cigarettes and a good cologne he probably stole from his dad—he didn’t say a word to me, then drove me home. This happened again the next day. And the next. And the next. By the time the Friday rolled around, he put a hand on my thigh before I wormed out of his Corvette. “Does Pretty Boy know you have a new boyfriend now?” he asked. My mind sizzled and my stomach dipped and my pulse throbbed inside my neck and what the hell was happening. I turned my head to look at him—just my head, my body still faced the windshield—and found that his face wasn’t at all self-assured. For the first time, it was kind of hopeful. We hadn’t talked to each other—not a lot, anyway—or spent any alone time together. Or dated. Or kissed. Yet it felt like we were definitely something. “He was my first kiss,” I admitted, dodging the question, mainly because I didn’t know how to respond. “When you walked in on us at the pantry? We were…I was…” Zack shut me up by pressing his lips on mine. I stopped breathing, still locked behind my seatbelt. His body hovered over mine, and his lips were warm and soft and closed, thank God. His scent—dirty and manly and sexy—seeped into my nostrils, and after a few seconds, I relaxed into the kiss, no longer scared of a monstrous, huge tongue that’d attack me. My eyes fluttered shut, and my mind drifted into a sweet pink fog of blankness. I heard a seatbelt unbuckling, and after a few seconds, I felt his upper body pressing against mine. Chest-to-chest, we continued kissing. Slow. Close-mouthed. A peck. Then another. Then another. Hard. Soft. Deep. Shallow. Long kisses. Short kisses. Producing toe-curling sounds from me. It was a completely different experience from my first one. And even though I’d spent three dates with Sage and knew everything about his family and dogs and his basketball, it didn’t feel as intimate as this. I don’t remember when Zack’s tongue parted my lips, but when it did, I moaned. I moaned and he
laughed, and I thought it was the most horrific, slutty thing I’d ever done, but I didn’t want the kiss to end, so I let him explore my mouth without punching his tattoo again. He wasn’t frantic like Sage. He teased my tongue slowly, and my thighs pressed together, because it was erotic. The kind of sexy I’d read about in Danielle Steel’s books. I wanted more of it and I wanted to do it every day—all day—until I ran out of saliva and oxygen. We kissed for ten minutes straight before he finally withdrew his lips from mine. “No,” he said out of nowhere, tugging at the braid that rested on my shoulder, as he always did. His lips were swollen and grinning, but his voice croaked. “I’m sorry, Jailbait, but that was your first kiss.”
FROM THAT MOMENT until Monday, I was on cloud nine. There was a huge-ass smile on my face when I
woke up for school. Actually, I’m pretty sure I slept with it too. Even though we hadn’t spoken a word to each other during the weekend, I knew what we were. Boyfriend and girlfriend. With a bounce in my sensible lace-up flat shoes, I strode to my locker, opened it, and pulled out my books for my next calc class. When I closed it, Zack’s face appeared on the other side and I jumped, letting out a little yelp. “Jesus, Zack!” I pretended to punch his tattoo again, because: Tattoo. And yum. And also my boyfriend has a tattoo and he is yummy and we totally kissed and he is a socialist-anarchist, which I am going to learn all about. I already borrowed two Karl Marx books from the library on Saturday. “What the hell.” “I’ll tell you exactly what hell is.” He grabbed my books and motioned with his head for me to lead the way. I did. We cut through the commotion in the hallway toward my next class, and I was blissfully aware of the fact my nerdy tribe saw me walking and talking and hanging out with this awesome senior punk-rock dude. Euphoria. That’s the only word that pops into mind when I recall how it felt. “Hell is when I don’t have your fucking phone number. How am I supposed to call you? Even Mia doesn’t have it. This is fucked up. I missed you this weekend.” He. Missed. Me. He missed me and I missed him, and Mrs. Leigh Gold has such a cute ring to it. “You know where I live.” I shrugged, taunting him. He flashed me that naughty smile that made me want to hump his leg in the middle of the hallway. We
both stopped in front of my next class’s door. “Oh, yeah? Should I have come over?” He leaned toward me—wow, he was tall—and smiled into my face without really touching me. I dropped my gaze to my shoes and blushed. “Sure, if you wanted to. But maybe with, like, a longsleeved shirt.” “Or maybe, like, you can give me your phone number,” he suggested, dumping my books back in my hands. I gave him my number and entered class. Honestly, I was so happy at that point I couldn’t even see straight. Falling into my seat with a grin and a sigh and cracking open my calculus book, I heard a familiar voice. “So you’re going out with that freak now?” Sage. Oh, shit.
Chapter Four ONE THING I probably should have mentioned—Sage Cowen’s parents were friends with mine. They
weren’t close friends, but our moms were in the same knitting club (to this day, my mom is a hardcore knitter and every piece of furniture in our house is draped with an afghan) and our dads went to the same college, so every time they’ve met—which was quite often in our small town—they had an elaborated chat. Sage was close with his parents. Sage could have easily told his mom that I was dating an eighteen-year-old anarchist with a giant tattoo who chain-smoked and was responsible for that McDonald’s incident last summer. I didn’t want that to happen, but I couldn’t exactly beg Sage to keep his mouth shut. So all I did was smile sweetly at him while I arranged my pens, pencils, and notebook on my desk, allowing my OCD to distract me from the looming catastrophe galloping into my life. “Hey, Sage. I was going to call you.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “You’re right, I probably should have said something.” Another half-truth. Sage hadn’t bothered calling me either. I don’t think he’d liked our kiss very much, and honestly, it seemed like he was only pissed off because he felt like I chose Zack over him. Which was ridiculous. I would choose a lawnmower over him because I knew, deep down, we weren’t a Danielle Steel book kind of couple. Zack and I, on the other hand? We were Danielle Steel meets Alexa Riley in a dark alley kind of lovers. And I couldn’t wait to find out what other tricks he knew with his mouth. “But I promise you,” I explained, “this has nothing to do with you. Anyway, I noticed you and I weren’t really speaking anymore.” “You were my girlfriend.” Sage smacked my desk. I recoiled in my chair. For the first time in my life, I was scared of a guy. And he didn’t have tattoos, didn’t smoke, and was a straight A student, like me. Sage leaned in. “You can’t go out with him, Leigh. It makes me look bad.” What? “Sage…” I pretended to chuckle, even though I was two seconds from peeing myself. “You’re exaggerating.” “People would think you left me for him.” “People don’t even know that we dated,” I countered. He smiled, a psychotic smile I didn’t even know he had in his arsenal of facial expressions, and tilted his head. “Maybe it’s time to tell them. That way they’ll know what a slut you are.”
“DAFUQ HAPPENED TO you?” Zack’s frown was like a stab straight to my heart.
It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. The first time we were “officially” together at school, and instead of grinning like an idiot and showing the world that I had made it in life—I’m going out with a bad boy!—my eyes were puffy and the sides of my fingernails were bloodied raw from biting them. Zack put his arm on my shoulder, and we walked to the cafeteria. I didn’t want to sit with his crew. It was one thing to hang out with them after school, but I didn’t need more people talking. And they were older. And wild. They certainly looked it. I was still a good girl. I wanted to make my parents happy. I loved that they gave me the freedom to do whatever the hell I wanted, not because they didn’t care, but because they trusted me. I loved the perks of being the light-green cardigan girl with the braid. The praise I got from every other family member. The car they promised to buy me next year if I kept my grades up. Fuck, they’d even promised to look into paying for my undergraduate degree in London. I couldn’t lose all that. Not over a boy. But was Zack really just a boy? I found myself worming out of his embrace, even though there was nothing I wanted more than to nuzzle into his chest and show people we were together. Zack stopped in the middle of the hallway, his eyes so thunderous, I momentarily remembered he was actually a pretty badass jerk and not a boy who liked me. I stopped too, already embarrassed with what I knew would develop into a scene. “Five seconds to explain, Jailbait, and it better be good.” I rolled my eyes. The nickname was getting old. “I’m not really into public displays of affection,” I shrugged the whole thing off. “I can see that.” He took a step in my direction, eating the distance between us. “In fact, it bothers you so much, you spent the last hour crying over my motherfucking affection before it even happened. What’s going on?” I looked down at my shoes and whispered, “Am I a slut?” “What!” he roared so loudly I thought the windows in nearby classes were going to shatter. “Come. The fuck. Again. Jailbait?” “Yeah…” I rubbed the bridge of my nose, flushed. “I’m asking if I’m a slut. Because I kissed Sage less than a week ago, and now I’ve kissed you…” Before I knew it, strong arms wrapped around me. I got a hug. It was the last thing I wanted—to be seen hugging Zack Gold—but apparently, also the first thing I needed. I melted into his touch like Swiss cheese on a hot pan. “Who gave you this idea? Why would you even think that? You can kiss whoever the hell you want. As
long as it’s not cheating…” he said into my hair. “It’s not,” I sniffed. “Sage and I weren’t together! I told him that, and he…” “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Rewind.” He ended our hug abruptly, and I stumbled forward until he straightened me, holding my shoulders and staring me square in the eye. “Sage made you think you did something wrong?” I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know if I wanted Zack to know the truth. I didn’t want him to do something terrible to Sage, which would make my parents even more against this relationship, not to mention hurt Sage. Looking back, I don’t think I was weak for not standing up to Sage when he confronted me. I think I was torn between the guy I fell in love with the minute he belched in my face and basically told my date that he was going to steal me—and did, without even working too hard for it—and all the cushy things being a good girl brought into my life. Zack’s spine stiffened and his eyes narrowed. “I’m going to kill this asshole for telling you that. You’re not a slut, Leigh. And FYI, guys who call girls sluts? They’re the real pussies you should stay away from. Now here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to kiss you, in front of all these motherfuckers, and you’re going to own it. Because you’re a badass. Ready?” HELL NO. But he kissed me anyway. His lips found mine, his hands disappeared into my hair, fingers knitting together behind my head, and for a second, everything disappeared. We kissed long and hard in the middle of the hallway. I heard snickers. I heard hushed, bitchy comments. It wasn’t just a peck. We devoured each other. There was no way back from this. I was owning this. This relationship. And my newfound sexuality. I don’t remember when we stopped kissing, but I do remember never getting that lunch I needed because we ran out of time. Zack brushed my cheek and chuckled, close to my lips. “Will you visit me in jail for messing with a minor?” I punched his tattoo and laughed. “Yes.”
Chapter Five I DON’T KNOW how Zack handled Sage. I didn’t ask. But after that day, Sage never spoke a word to me
again. And even though a small part of me wanted to explain—tell him that I really did think that after a week of radio silence from him and after I saw him walking down the hallway that same week with his arm around a new girl, that we were completely over—I couldn’t bring myself to apologize, because of what he called me. How he’d threatened me. And the following weekend, Zack and I went on our first date. It was the definition of casual. And of course, he was way too cool to refer to it as a date. Zack bought some beers from a 7/Eleven and drove us around until we found a nice spot by the beach where we sat on the hood of his car and drank and talked until the sun came up. He told me he wasn’t really an anarchist— thank God, because I’d done my research and wasn’t down with that kind of violence—but yeah, he did vandalize that McDonald’s. “Not because they’re a giant corporate company.” He shook his head on a soft laugh that seemed like it didn’t belong on his lips. “I’d lost a bet. It was either that or dipping my dick into hot coffee.” There was a dramatic pause, then another burst of laughter. “I really didn’t want the latter to happen.” Just the mere idea of his penis—which I knew, logically, was geographically close to me despite a refusal to acknowledge its existence—made my heart beat ten times faster. Plus, he said the word dick. Things were obviously moving way too fast. Zack noticed how red I turned—even in the pitch black—because he plucked the beer bottle from my hand and put it on the hood next to him before pulling me into his embrace. “I said coffee cup, I didn’t say Leigh’s pussy.” Oh, no. Now he said the word pussy too. I was going to die of embarrassment. I cupped my face with my hands. “I’m sorry. I’m ridiculous,” I mumbled into them. That was the sideeffect of dating a senior when you had the sexual experience of a ten-year-old. Everything made you flustered. He peeled my fingers away from my face with ease. “Hey,” he said, his eyes locking on mine. “Hi.” “Can we eliminate the word ‘slut’ from your dictionary? And can we please treat this as two people getting to know one another and not a vicious plan of mine to attack you with my cock? If that was my main interest, I would have found a more willing candidate.” I nodded. “Seems fair. Just please don’t remind me that you have a penis. It’s really demoralizing. We were having a good time.”
“That’s not nice. One day, you will apologize to it for every time you bad-mouthed it.” “Nice choice of words.” I rolled my eyes. “I think so too.” That night, we kissed. A lot. And when the morning came, I silently cursed the sun. I was falling in love, fast. With the last person I ever thought I’d date.
THERE WAS ONE last thing that kept Zack and me from reaching our Happily Ever After. Three months after
we started dating, we officially became the “it” couple. I guess people were rooting for the geek and the punk, the unlikelihood of it all, and the way I suddenly became a lot tougher and he became a lot softer. But my parents didn’t know about Zack. They hadn’t met him, and that gnawed at my stomach, guilt eating away at my conscience. Not telling them was essentially lying to them, and not telling my mom—who was always my best friend—was essentially preventing me from bragging in the ears of the only person I knew wouldn’t mind hearing me gloat. I wanted to tell her how good he was at playing the guitar. How fantastically funny and sarcastic he was—how he volleyed back with the same sass I gave him, without even blinking. And how his kisses made me drunk, but maybe not the part where his hands were roaming all over my body when we lost control in the backseat of his car or in his bedroom. But I was so scared my parents were going to hate everything about Zack—from his tattoos to his attitude, style, and the fact that he didn’t want to go to college—he wanted to open a guitar shop in the city and sleep in the attic of said shop—that I never broached the subject. Should have known better. Zack was always a few steps ahead of me. It was after our first time. Not that first time. Hell no. I was still an inexperienced, frightened little bird. The first time I let him kiss me there, and he kissed me like he was starving for me, and something wonderful and amazing and fucking scary happened. I lost control of my limbs, my muscles and my mind. “So, Jailbait…” He brushed my hair from the nape of my back. It wasn’t braided anymore, and the tips were hot pink, same shade as my cheeks after what he’d done. “Are you hiding me from Mr. and Mrs. Shen?” Yes. “No! Of course not! Why would you think that?” I frowned, shoving his chest for no other reason than to touch him again.
We were in his bedroom, my favorite place in the whole world. I swear, just the smell of it—a hint of cigarettes, his cologne, and sweet-and-sour body aroma—destroyed my panties beyond repair. Oh, and by the way, in those three months? I did a lot of things with Zack that would probably deem me as a slut in Sage’s eyes. And guess what? I was beginning to warm up to the idea of acknowledging his penis. Just not up close. Zack straightened his posture on his queen-sized bed and cocked one eyebrow. “Then when do I get to meet them?” “Why would you want to meet my parents? Isn’t that every boyfriend’s nightmare?” He did that thing that drove me mad with anger and lust, where he tugged me toward him by the waistband of my underwear (through my jeans, people), and I fell on top of him, straddling him with my legs on either side of his body. Zack jerked me by the collar for a kiss. “I’m not every boyfriend. I’m your boyfriend. And I want to see your room and pet your dog and shove myself so fucking deep into your life, you’ll need a bulldozer to get me out.” “Okay, but…long sleeves?” I suggested, leaning into another intoxicating kiss I knew would steal my breath. “In this nightmare of a spring? No fucking way, Jailbait. Too hot. Way, way too hot.” I was screwed. So screwed.
I DIDN’T PREP my parents for that meeting.
Holding onto unrealistically high hopes, I thought maybe Zack would forget to show up. Or show up in a long-sleeved collared shirt he didn’t even own. Or for once in his life tell a lie and answer “college” when my parents asked him where he was headed after his senior year. Zack was supposed to arrive at six. My mom and I were in the kitchen making dinner for all of us, and my dad was raking the leaves outside (they didn’t get the memo that it was hotter than a furnace), along with my baby brother. Mom and I were watching them from the kitchen window. I was peeling potatoes while she was cutting some vegetables. “What’s he like?” she asked out of nowhere. “He’s…great. A really nice guy, if you just give him the chance,” I said carefully. “Sounds a little defensive.” Mom quirked a brow. She was everything proper and neat. I couldn’t see how she’d ever like Zack. I mean, he was the exact opposite of my dad, who thought tattoos were the essence of evil in this world and that people who didn’t
go to college were inevitably going to end up homeless or worse. “Mom.” I cleared my throat, dropping a potato into the sink by accident. She stopped cutting vegetable to look at me. “Zack has a huge tattoo and he’s not going to college after this year.” I said it fast, like taking off a Band-Aid. “And?” she asked, the same blank expression on her face. “And please don’t hate him.” “If we will hate him, would it even matter?” A ghost of a smile tickled her lips. I dropped my head, staring hard at my shoes. No. It wouldn’t have mattered. Because I loved Zack. I wanted to be with him. Even if it meant I was going against my parents and, ultimately, losing a few perks here and there. I shook my bowed head. “No, Mom. Honestly, I would probably not stop seeing him.” Now that hint of a smirk of her face became a full-blown, glowing smile. “Then it’s done.”
Epilogue MY PARENTS ENDED up LOVING Zack Gold. After that dinner, Zack came to my house all the time. And
every time my dad was there, he would make him sit and talk to him about the bands he used to listen to, like Led Zeppelin and White Snake and Deep Purple. Zack would listen, and nod, and give Dad his two cents. One time Zack even came with a guitar and taught him the first few chords of “Smoke on the Water.” My dad almost exploded with happiness that day. I’d found out that not only were my parents a lot less prudish than I thought they were—and a lot less than I was before I’d met Zack—but also, that sometimes, it’s pretty awesome to get out of your comfort zone and try something new. Better yet? Someone new. And remember how Zack told me he never wanted me to change? Well, I did. I changed a lot. I became a little less angry, less charming version of him. Guess what? He still loved me. Because he didn’t know what he wanted, just like I didn’t. But once we found each other? Fireworks. Fireworks all around. Zack Gold wasn’t only my first second kiss. He was my first everything. First real date. First real make-out session. First time in bed. First love. First prom (Zack was long-gone from my school by then, working shifts at an auto shop, saving money so he could open that guitar shop, but we got special permission to go together because he graduated from the same school.) Zack wasn’t a nice guy, and deep down, not only did I know it but I also liked it. I liked that he didn’t like people, but still liked me. I liked that he was a terrible asshole to the rest of the population but was tender with me. That first encounter between us at the party? It was a perfect representation of who he was. Impolite, sarcastic, and completely unfazed by competition. But even though he disliked almost everything and everyone, he wasn’t a rotten person like Perfect Sage was. He never ridiculed other people. Never used the word ‘slut.’ And he always did the right thing when it came to the things that mattered. Zack and I got our happily-ever-after. It was unlikely. And at times, terrible awkward, just like me. But it was us, and we were two, deeply flawed, deeply in love, deeply deep individuals.
Three years after we first started dating, when we went to my senior prom together, we saw Sage dancing with some girl we didn’t know, laughing and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Zack put his lips to mine, mimicking Sage’s movement, but in a way that wasn’t sleazy or disgusting. “I think you owe me a thank you for dodging that bullet.” “I think you owe me a thank you for putting up with your crap for so long.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose against his. He smiled. I did too. We smiled a lot these days. He gave me a peck on my lips and bit the bottom one playfully. “I love you, slut.” “Love you too, asshole.” Not all love stories are Danielle Steel perfect. But all love stories deserve this kind of happy ending.
Rhythm
by Mandi Beck
“Every broken piece of me will always fit with every missing piece of you.” -r.m. drake
Chapter One
STONE
THERE'S NOTHING ROMANTIC about being on tour. Even when we're staying in hotels instead of the bus.
There's nothing romantic about a different city and venue every night, about hours and sometimes days on the road. About long flights and sound checks and thousands of screaming fans all vying for your attention. But fuck me if it ain't sexy. Music isn't what I do — it's who I am, and that's the man that Birdie loves. The Music Man. That in itself makes it sexy. Of course that doesn't mean that I can fuck up our first Valentine's Day since we've been back together though. I'm pretty sure it means I have to bring my A game so she doesn't regret giving my sorry ass another chance. With that in mind, I slip my phone out of my back pocket and dial Law. "Yo, man. What's up? We have two hours before we have sound check." "Just wanted to make sure you guys were all set to babysit tonight." "We're good. Luckiest kid alive. How many little girls can say she had the amazingly awesome and stupid-talented drummer and the okay bass player of Wrecked babysit?" "You say that like it's a good thing," I laugh. "Doesn't get any better than that." "No? Her daddy being the lead singer, heart and soul, and let's be honest, REAL talent doesn't top the lowly drummer boy babysitting?" "Fuck off, bro. Why you gotta be so mean?" I'm just about to blow him even more shit when my two girls walk into the room. "Gotta go, Law. Lyric and Wills just walked in. See you in a couple hours." Not giving him a chance to respond, I disconnect and toss the phone on the bed. I love watching her, our daughter on her hip as she strolls into the room. Eyes on me — love, contentment, that ever-present heat, all there in her whiskeycolored gaze. Words I’ve said a million times tumble from my mouth without even thinking about them. “Where you been, Birdie?" The smile she hits me with is fucking magic. It's sunshine and diamonds and all that pretty shit that glitters and shines. "I've been here, waiting for you," she murmurs. Just like she always does every time I ask. "Damn right you have." I pull her into my arms and lay a kiss on her lips about a second before our lip-
blocking little girl wriggles in between us for some love of her own. "I got your kisses right here, baby doll." Scooping my daughter up, I rain loud noisy kisses all over her as she giggles sweetly. "My two jealous ladies," I tease, pulling Willow back into my arms, holding on to both of them. Wondering, not for the first time and sure as hell not for the last, how I ever lived without them and what I did to deserve them. "You're coming to the show tonight, right?" She doesn't miss many of them now that my sister is traveling with us as groupie-slash-nanny "Miss a Valentine’s Day show? Nope. Not ever." Grinning coyly at me, "I expect something special, you know that, right? If I have to share my man with twenty-seven thousand—" "Twenty-eight thousand two hundred and fifty-two." "My mistake," she apologizes dramatically. "If I have to share my man on Valentine's Day with over twenty-eight thousand people screaming his name, he better make it worth my while." "Like Bieber?" "You want me screaming your name later on?" I flash her a wicked grin, "Oh, I do." "Then you better bring more than Bieber to the table, baby." "Better than Bieber?” “Yes. Better than your boy Beiber.” “I’m really gonna have to dig deep for that one,” I tease. Rolling her eyes at me, she shakes her head, “I have faith in you.” Thank fuck for that. With one more kiss, I drop my arms and walk over to the dresser, sliding my wallet into my pocket and clasping my watch. As much as I would love to sit here with them, I have shit to do for tonight before I have to get my ass to the arena. “I have to go over a few things with Judge for tonight’s show,” I lie. “You ladies gonna be okay here without me?” “Oh, I think we’ll manage. Won’t we, Songbird?” Willow asks, tweaking Lyric’s nose. “We’ll probably take a little nap while we wait on your sister.” “She leaves for Austin tonight after the show, right?” My sister had me scrambling earlier in the week trying to figure out what to do with Lyric tonight. I hadn’t planned on Scarlet not being here to watch her. “Yep, the red-eye,” she says, flopping onto the bed with Lyric on her lap. “Tell her to have a safe flight.” Willow hands me my phone from next to her and nods in agreement. “I will.” Unable to help myself, I lean down for another kiss, lingering there for a moment, swiping my tongue lightly over her bottom lip and trying to not go in for more with the baby there. I pull back reluctantly and groan. Lyric gets a kiss on her sweet-smelling head before I straighten, “See you later, Birdie. Love you.
And I love you, little Birdie.” “We love you too, Stone,” Willow calls after me. I have to get the hell out of there before I lay Lyric down for a nap in her room and lay her mama down for something else entirely.
Chapter Two AFTER LEAVING OUR suite and walking to the elevator, I look back at the closed door to make sure she
didn't follow me and take the gold key card out of my wallet, waving it in front of the sensor. The car whirs into motion taking me up another two floors to the presidential suite. The doors slide open and let me out into an opulent foyer. The smell of wildflowers permeates the air from where they sit in vases on every available surface. Dozens and dozens of wildflowers and unlit candles and random bouquets of watermelon lollies. Just the sight of them makes me smile. I hear heels clicking against the marble floor and turn from the bundle of lollipops I had been straightening. "It's about time you got here." "You miss me?" I ask, winking playfully. Scarlet just rolls her eyes at me like the bratty little sister she is. "Hardly." "Sorry, Wills came back to the room before I could leave." "She doesn't suspect anything, does she?" "Nah." "Oh, good. I made the reservation for this room under an alias just in case," she tells me, motioning for me to follow her. “Do I even want to know what name you gave them?” I’m not reassured when she laughs. She looks over her shoulder at me, her short brown hair, cut just like mine oddly enough, flops into her eyes. Blowing it back into place, Scarlet asks cheekily “Didn’t you always want to be a porn star?” “Jesus,” I groan. “Calm down. It’s under my name, but they know to use Lincoln Landry as the secret code name thingy.” I can hear the laughter she’s fighting. I’m gonna kill her. “The baseball player? You signed me into the Presidential Suite for a night of filthy sex and wicked debauchery with my fiancé under the name Lincoln fucking Landry?” Scar makes a gagging noise and gives a little dry heave for good measure. “Eww. I didn’t need that imagery.” Adding one last shudder, she shrugs, “I couldn’t think of anything else and he was on the TV in the lobby. And seriously, have you seen him? You should be thankful. He’s hot as hell.” At a set of double doors, she stops talking, thankfully, and throws them open to reveal the bedroom. A huge round king-sized bed in the center of the room, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bay, the sun casting a glow over the space. “I got everything that you asked for, but didn’t set up anything in here, only out in the suite area.
I don’t know — and I don’t want to know — what you have in mind for this room.” She runs a tattooed hand over the plush comforter on the bed, smoothing it, the bright colors of her ink even more bold against the champagne color. “The living room looks great, thank you.” Scar nods and points to the sitting area in the corner. “The bags are all there. If you need anything else just let me know. I’m going to run down and make sure that everything else is set.” She pecks my cheek and pats my back. “You done good, big brother. Don’t fuck it up.” I flip her off as she walks away with a jangle of bracelets, clicking heels, and laughter. Brat. Laden with bags of shit, I drop down in the chair and start unpacking. I gave her a list of things that I needed, she got all of that and then some. I check the time — I have an hour and a half to make this work before sound check. Surrounded by romantic paraphernalia, I sift through it all until I find the bag I’m looking for. Scarlet had suggested lingerie, but I knew. She didn’t have to tell me shit. Birdie loves her some pretty panties, and fuck me, do I love her in them. Setting one of the solid pink boxes on my lap, I slip the black bow off and peel back the tissue paper. Lace, silk, leather, and materials I don’t even know the name of, in every color imaginable, are folded in neat, sexy rows. The vision of Willow wearing them has me rocking the beginnings of a hard on. Putting the lid and bow in place, I reach for the other box in the bag, opening it up and looking in at the corset and garter set nestled there. I don’t even care that it cost a fucking fortune. It’s the only thing that Wills indulges in, and if she wants me to drop a year’s worth of royalties on Agent Provocateur, I will. Gladly. Lingerie, the gift that keeps on giving. To her and me. I’m ready to say fuck the rehearsal and call Willow up here to model for me now. If I do that though, we’ll be missing the rehearsal and the show. No way in hell am I letting her out of this room once I get her here. I’m almost willing to take the ass beating that Judge would give me. Tucking everything away, I move them to the side and stand. The dirty images running through my mind will have to wait, but the next few hours are gonna be killer and all that time is gonna do nothing but add to my imagination. Wonder how the boys will feel about me doing the encore in bed instead of on stage?
Chapter Three OUR PRE-SHOW ROUTINE and vibe are a whole lot different than they were not too long ago. We've replaced
the half-dressed chicks, drugs, loud music, and drinks with a smiling toddler, healthy kid-friendly snacks, Smart Water, and juices. I couldn't be fucking happier about it. With Willow perched sideways on my lap, her arms looped around my neck, I smile at the scene in contentment and trace lazy circles on her thigh. Arrow has his bass leaning against the wall, my daughter bouncing on his knee as she grabs fistfuls of his long hair from under the hat he has on backwards. Law is on the floor next to them twirling his sticks in the air stopping to tap Row on the head every few turns, causing the big bad bass player to pretend to cry, making Lyric laugh. The door opens and Judge walks in, my sister trailing behind him as he barks into the phone. He's been on edge lately, and now that we broke away from Fall Out Records and started our own label, he has more on his plate than ever. Not to mention his personal life being a total shit show. "Hey guys," Scar calls out, settling herself on the couch next to Arrow. "Looking good, Scarlet." Law winks from his spot at her feet. "Is it weird that I think your sister is smokin' and she looks just like you?" he asks me. "Yes it's weird, fucker. And stop thinking my sister’s hot. There are band rules." "You sure, bro?" "Fucking positive." I throw an apple from the fruit bowl at him. He snags it easily and laughs. Fucker. "I think she's hot because she looks like you," Willow chimes in. "I mean; I would do her." "I'd watch!" my soon-to-be dead drummer says, taking a big bite of apple. "What are we talking about?" Judge asks a little bewildered. Arrow places his hands over Lyric’s ears although she's too little to understand anything. "Willow’s gonna get down and dirty with Scar and your brother’s gonna watch." Judges whips his head in my direction, eyes bulging. "Yeah, right. Like I'd ever let either of those things fucking happen," I answer his unspoken question. Eyebrow cocked, I snort out. "Like fuck." Just to make sure they’re all sure of my stance. Scar sighs dramatically. "You're such a party pooper." We all laugh at that since not too long ago I was the exact opposite. Losing your girl, an accidental overdose, and a nice, long stint in rehab changes a man. The door opens yet again, this time it's the new tour assistant. Clipboard in hand, headset firmly in place, she looks every bit the part. Except for the daggers she's shooting at me. "Stone. You guys are on in
fifteen. You should probably send the girlfriend and baby home now." Her tone isn't that of the helpful assistant. More like the jealous other woman. The fuck? "Or you," Willow retorts from her spot on my lap before anyone else can. I look around at our group. I can't believe this shit and clearly neither can they. Everyone stares, mouths hanging open, Law with his apple mid bite. Even Lyric is watching curiously, little head cocked to the side as she gnaws on a toy. "You can't fire me," the assistant, who I'm sure has a name, tells Willow. "Oh, honey, I can. And I will." Willow stands from my lap and I let her. I'm not sure if it's because it's hot as hell to watch her get all fired up like this or that I'm seriously in fucking shock. "Li–" Whatever the assistant is about to say is cut off by Judge. "You're out of line, and if you want to keep this very well-paying job," he gives her a pointed look, "I suggest you excuse yourself and get back to the task we're actually paying you for. And by ‘we're’ I mean everyone in this room since we own the label that signs your checks equally." Her face reddens in anger and embarrassment as she turns on her heel and leaves. "What the hell was that?" Row asks. "I think someone has a little crush," Wills answers him. "Yeah, but on who? You or Stone, because I'm not sure," he scoffs. "It's all that girl-on-girl talk, man." Law nods solemnly like he's just instilled some epic wisdom. Judge shakes his head and pulls out his phone while loosening his tie. I think we might give the poor asshole a heart attack before too long. “Addy, We need another tour assistant," he says to his assistant, "This one has lost her fucking mind.” Ten minutes later and it’s go time. We’re all huddled backstage, my arms wrapped tightly around Willow, my chin resting on her head as we watch Wildfire, our opening act, walk from the stage. Amped up on adrenaline, I release Wills, bouncing on my toes and watching as Judge and the guys congratulate the all-girl band on another awesome performance. Mercy, their drummer, rolls her eyes at something Law says before following after the rest of her band, disappearing into one of the dressing rooms. Willow raises her eyebrows at me questioningly. I shake my head to tell her I have no clue. “That’s you, boys!” Judge shouts over the noise in the arena and the darkened wings of the stage. With a nod I let him know I’ve heard him and turn to Wills. Tangling my fist in her hair, I drag her closer to me, quickly covering her lips with mine. I dip my tongue inside before I pull back and nip her pouty bottom lip. The adrenaline inside me has me feeling reckless and on edge. It’s always like this before a show. The heady knowledge that I’m about to get out there in front of tens of thousands of people and strip my soul bare for them, bleed all over the stage is a high unlike any drug I’ve ever taken. The only thing better than this high is the one I get from being around Willow. An addict to the core, I’ve just learned to choose my drugs of choice a little more wisely. I’ve traded coke and pills for music and my girl just like it was
when I first started. Like it always should’ve been. My forehead resting against hers, I stand quietly and soak it all in for just a moment before Lawson calls out. “Let’s go, Stone — time to get Wrecked!” Willow presses a kiss to my lips and says “Sing pretty, Stone.” My smirk is instantaneous, “Then what, Birdie?” “Then I’ll fuck you pretty,” she answers back coyly, a wicked grin tugging at her full, kiss-swollen lips. “Fuck me, that will never get old,” I murmur adjusting my now painfully hard cock behind the tight black denim it’s straining against. “You gonna send me out there like this?” “Yup. You do it to me all the time. Whispering naughty things in my ear, making me wet—” I place a finger to her lips before she can say another word. It’s like she’s trying to torture me. She knows how I get before a show. How all that adrenaline turns into a want so strong it consumes me. It’s part of me. That passion, the need. By the time we’re off stage, it’s swirled and built itself into a storm, raging and rioting. Most nights I’m lucky to make it to the dressing room before I have her stripped and pinned against a wall, bent over a director’s chair or a table swept clean of all the waters and snacks set out for us. Up against the door of a storage closet, or my favorite, on stage, hidden — just barely — from the view of anyone lingering, from the ushers and the cleaning crew. There in the dark where I just laid out everything I had, bared for them to see. I love taking her there, where I’ve given the most. My hand tightens in her hair while I try to rein myself in, eyes shut tight, mind filled with the sounds around us, the feel of her pressed against me, and I’m ready. I’m ready to give my everything so that I can take her all. Smiling slyly I release her and pop a lolli from my back pocket into my mouth. Just long enough to rid myself of the sudden dryness and then slide it between her deep red lips, watching the pink candy disappear. “Save some of that for me,” I tell her and saunter off after the guys, their own adrenaline mixed with mine, becoming a live being surrounding us. “Let’s do this.” I clap Law on the back as he leads the way. Right before I step on stage, I look back at Birdie one more time, just a glance over my shoulder. She blows me a kiss and calls out, “Sing pretty!” “So pretty!” is my response before stepping into the spotlight, the crowd exploding around us. It’s show time.
Chapter Four “HELLO, SACRAMENTO!” I yell into the mic, adjusting the stand to a better height. “How the fuck are you
tonight?” I pull a cigarette out and light it, watching them through the haze as the simple act makes them lose their minds. The performer in me takes over, the rock star smirk sliding over my lips as I let the energy of the crowd flow through me. “You ready to get Wrecked?” My question causes an even louder roar, the sound hitting us in waves as it makes its way through the stadium. Looking over my shoulder at Law and Row, I grin. “I think they’re ready.” With a laugh, I take another drag of my smoke before I flick it into the can they put on stage for me and pull my Fender from the stand. “It’s Valentine’s Day — I think we should start out with something dirty.” Slowly strumming my fingers over the strings, I test them even though I know it’s perfectly tuned. “Something sexy.” Another pass over the frets as they scream their agreement. “Yeah, I think that’s what we need.” Fingers finding their way over the strings, we launch into a song I wrote for Wills — hell, they’re all for her. My lips pressed against the mic, I groan into it. A throaty sound that’s met with cat calls and whistles, the sound making me smile, mouth still against the cold metal of the mic, and wait ’til they quiet. “Naked against me, you lay. Let me slide inside you and stay,” I sing, glancing to the side where I know Willow is standing, watching, listening. “Let me stay. Stay. Stay. Inside you, Birdie, let me stay.” Closing my eyes, I continue on. The words carrying more and more heat, more meaning. By the time the song finishes, I’m ready to drag Wills out of there and flip that little skirt she’s wearing up over her ass and bury myself inside her. For days. This is going to be a long night. After an hour and a half on stage underneath the blazing stage lights, I’m dripping with sweat. Reaching over my shoulder I pull my shirt over my head, dragging it down my face and neck before passing it over my chest. There are a few screams from the front row of “take it all off” and “fuck me, Stone!” that I grin wryly at. From behind the drum kit, Lawson mouths off yelling out “Yeah, do me, Stone!” Row just shakes his head, chuckling at the antics. “Settle down,” I laugh, pointing to Law, “Especially you!” Turning back to the crowd, I take a sip from my water bottle. “It’s fucking hot in here!” From the bucket at my feet, I snag another cold water and twist the cap, “You hot?” There’s a collective “Yes” that ripples through the arena. “Better cool down, it’s about to get even hotter in here.” With a flick of my wrist, I spray water at the first row, giving me a second to regroup and give Law a moment. Banging on those drums takes a lot of energy. I might have to carry his ass off stage. “I have a woman.” My lip caught in between my teeth to keep from laughing, I let my gaze find her in the wings, just for a moment. “She’s gonna kill me for this,” I murmur, not able to keep the grin from
tipping up the corner of my mouth. “I have a woman I’ve written hundreds of songs for. Maybe more. I lost fucking count.” As I talk to them, I slip the Fender over my head again. “And even with all of those songs, sometimes it’s the ones I haven’t written that tell our story best.” Guitar pick in hand, I prepare to get my ass kicked. “My woman loves candy. Especially lollipops. Watermelon lollipops to be exact.” I turn and wink in her direction. “She likes candy. Sex…and candy.” The reaction that gets is exactly what I expected. The thunderous applause and shouts of encouragement as Law opens up “Marcy Playground” are deafening. “I smell sex and cannddyyy,” I rasp into the mic, fighting to hold back my laugh. Taking it off the stand, I raise it up for the crowd to sing along. On the last verse of the hook, I cut my hand through the air, stopping Law and Row. “She told me she expected something special up here tonight. I’m not sure this is what she had in mind.” A young kid from the crew dashes out onto the stage with a stool and sets it down beside me and runs away just as fast as he came. “Now that I’ve gotten myself in a world of shit with my woman.” I snag the stool with my foot and drag it over, settling myself on it, my guitar balanced across my lap. “Let’s see if I can get you laid.” Law gives a little drumroll at that. “If you’re here with your someone, bring them in close. If this doesn’t get you fucked, you might as well just give up.” I chuckle before straightening. “Can I get some lights?” I call out to the lighting guys. The stage goes completely black except for the spotlight directly on me, and almost instantly, the crowd lights up with flames and phone lights. “This song is something I started to write when I was in rehab. I wasn’t able to finish it until recently though because I didn’t know how our story would end.” Lost in my own thoughts for a second, I strum over the strings of the guitar, reveling in the absolute quiet of the packed arena. The power of that isn’t lost on me. I took it for granted at one time, took life for granted. “Sometimes you have to lose everything you have, everything you’ve ever wanted, before you really appreciate how lucky you are. Not that I’m encouraging that because it fucking sucks.” Lifting my water, I sip around a smile. “This song is a testament to that. Of how hard it is to hit rock bottom and have to claw your way out. To be lost without your rhythm. You are the very first people to hear it, unplugged and raw, since not even the band has heard it.” Nervous on stage for the first time that I can remember, I clear my throat. “This one is for you, Birdie. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Fingers dancing over the strings, lips pressed to the mic, I start singing about a love gone wrong, redemption, forgiveness, and the hell I put us both through. About the wrongs and rights, tears and laughter, and everything that made us…us. The song is written on my soul, a reminder of how far we’ve come. Just like Willow is. Before the reverberation from the last notes of the guitar settle, the arena breaks out into chaos and my girl is flying through the air, damn near knocking me off the stool. With my arms wrapped tightly around her, I stand, a handful of ass, meeting her kiss for kiss, her tears salty against my mouth, and wave to the crowd as I stride off stage. I’m about to get my encore.
Chapter Five IT TAKES EVERYTHING I have in me not to just slip off to the dressing room and let her thank me like she
wants to. I resist, not wanting to ruin the plans I’ve made for us back at the hotel. Finally settled in the back of the limo, Willow is tucked into my side, my hand drifting up and down her leg as we listen to the guys break down the show and how great it all was. “I can’t wait to get you back to the hotel. I hope Scar has Lyric asleep. I’m going to do all kinds of filthy things to you, Mr. Lockhart,” Willow purrs in my ear, her tits pressed into my arm. Killing me. She’s fucking killing me. This is the last fucking time we stay thirty miles from the arena. Her head resting on my shoulder, arm laced through mine, she’s the picture of innocence. The guys have no clue that she just promised to fuck me stupid. "Stone, is that song going on the album?" Judge asks, nudging my booted foot with his fancy ass dress shoe. His phone to his ear. As usual. Willow lifts her head from my chest and gazes up at me. "I haven't decided yet. I've been sitting on it for a while," Looking down at Wills, I smile. I knew Bieber wasn't going to get me anywhere this time. A laugh slips past my lips when Willow rolls her eyes at me. "Who the fuck are you calling, bro? It's midnight on Valentine's Day," I demand incredulously. "Addy. She called during the show and I missed it." "Let her sleep, man!" "She never sleeps. Addy? Hey. What's up?" While he's preoccupied, I put my lips to Willow’s ear. "You going all gangsta on the stage assistant chick tonight made me so hot." Birdie lets slip a laugh. "Oh my God. Did you hear the tone she used talking about Lyric? Uh uh. I don't think so, bitchy poo,” she huffs. "It was so sexy. Made my dick hard, Birdie," I say on a low breath, giving her lobe a nip. "Oh yeah?" Her smile is pure sex. And then Law clears his throat, interrupting the eye fucking we were in the middle of. "We'll be at the hotel in like five minutes, you two exhibitionists." I flip him off for what seems like the tenth time tonight. "Speaking of the crazy chick, Addy called to tell me she replaced her,” Judge cuts in. I guess I wasn't as quiet as I thought. "That's good. I'm not sure what her fucking deal was."
"She acted like she knows you. And hates you," Row says chuckling, then stops abruptly, eyes flying to mine. Questions, accusations, fire in his glare. Another time, another place, another Stone, and I may have been deserving of all that I see there and more. Not anymore though. It dawns on me then, that if Arrow came to that conclusion, then maybe Birdie did too. My heart clenches as I turn to look at her. She hadn't even been paying attention to Row, instead talking to Addy via Judge. "Wills—" I start. "Don't, Stone." She places a finger over my lips. "Two years ago, I would've never stood up and said anything to that girl. Two years ago, she may have had reason to think she had the right to act jealous." Willow smiles a bit sadly and that ache in my heart intensifies. "Not tonight though. Tonight I had no doubt in my mind. Never did I think that you let her believe she had a right. You're not that Stone anymore. You never truly were. Not in here," she says laying her palm against my chest. Fuck me. What did I ever do to deserve her? To deserve her forgiveness? Whatever it was, I want to do it over and over again. “Marry me,” I murmur. Her lips part in a smile. “I asked you first.” “Yes, you did,” I whisper against her mouth just as the limo rolls to a stop. Even at this time of night, we have to use the service entrance. There have been Paparazzi camped out front since we arrived. They’ve been around a lot more since Wills and I got back together. The baby is a huge interest for them, as well as the love triangle scandal they like to spin. I have no issue telling them that I didn’t steal her back from anyone. That you have to belong to someone in order for them to be taken away. Willow was never anyone else’s. No matter what they all think. I glance over at Law and Row before sliding out after Birdie. “We good?” My voice is pitched low so that Wills doesn’t hear me. “Yup, already talked to Scar.” Nodding in thanks, I step out into the balmy night. Wills is standing with Judge and Dare, our security detail. Without a word, I take her hand and lead us inside. I’m anxious to get her into the elevator. I’m hoping that she doesn’t notice when we go past our floor to the Presidential Suite. We walk quietly down the darkened corridor to the banks of private elevators. “You guys mind waiting for the next one?” I ask as I thumb the button, summoning the car. “Like we want to be in an elevator with you two right now,” Law jokes. Or not. Wills and I were always throwing off fire, after a show especially. It turns her on to see me perform just as much as it does me to be on the stage. Music is foreplay for us. Always has been. “Probably smart,” I call out as we enter the car, and I stealthily swipe the card that will bring us to the suite. Willow waves as the doors slide shut. The moment the doors are closed, I back her against the mirrored wall. “Took you long enough,” she says just as I slide my hands up the back of her bare leg and under the skirt she wore to drive me insane,
I’m sure. My roughened fingers brush against the soft flesh of her bared ass. “I think you flashed everyone at the concert when you jumped me on stage.” She shrugs, tilting her head to the side, giving me access to her neck. Without hesitating, I lay an open-mouthed kiss against the pulse there, biting and then licking away the sting. Willow moans low in her throat as I pull her onto my bent leg, pressing her onto my thigh. When she rolls her hips, I help, guiding her with my hands on her ass. “I want to fuck you right here, Birdie.” “Do it,” she pants. Those two words are my undoing. This isn’t at all what I had planned, but with her riding my leg, demanding me to take more, there’s no way I can deny her. Not giving her time to change her mind, I slap at the stop button, bracing us both when the elevator comes to an abrupt halt. “This is going to be fast and dirty,” I rasp out. She whimpers and nods. “Do it, Stone.” Those two words again. Reaching in between us, I unbuckle my belt and get my pants opened and my cock out in record time. Spinning her around, I place her palms on the cool glass of the mirror. Her eyes are on us, watching me as I drag my fingers up her arms, across her shoulders. Gaze locked on hers, both hands on her waist, I pull her hips toward me. Never breaking eye contact, I bunch her skirt up, exposing her to me. The black lace of her thong disappearing in between her perfectly rounded ass cheeks. She gives a little wiggle and now it’s my turn to moan. “You’re gonna fucking kill me with that thing. You know that?” “Mmmm. But what a way to go,” Willow says, giving another wiggle. “Watch us, Birdie.” My voice is demanding, thick with the lust exploding underneath my skin. Slowly, I slip her panties to the side, swiping the head of my cock through her wetness. I make three teasing passes before it becomes too much and I surge forward. There’s no easing. No finesse. I’m not even able to give her time to adjust before I’m pounding into her, our skin making the most delicious slapping sound with every thrust. Beneath me I can feel her legs begin to tremble. “So soon?” I tease, biting at her shoulder, slipping a hand around and into the front of her panties. Her eyes slide shut. “Uh uh, Birdie. Open em’ up, baby.” Lashes fluttering, she meets my gaze once more, hers glazed over as I swirl my fingers over and over in rhythm with my cock thrusting in and out of her. That look, her hair, wild chocolate waves, lips stained red and opened in a perfect “O,” and I’m done. I can feel the heat of my release clawing at me. On my toes, I pull her more tightly against my hips, pulling out and slamming back in, grinding down every time I do, my fingers still working her over. One last time and we’re both tumbling over the edge. My name falling from her lips, incoherent cursing from my own. “Sir, is everything okay in there?” comes a voice from the emergency speaker. Willow straightens, trying to move away from me. I don’t let her. Still moving in and out of her in a lazy rhythm, I answer him calmly.
“Everything’s fantastic here, bro.” Wills gives me a jab with her elbow. There’s some throat clearing. “Umm, sir. I turned the cameras off as long as I could. But ummm…they have an override, so…” Willow’s face goes bright red as she scrambles to pull away from me and cover herself. “Just you up there?” “Yes, sir.” “Give us thirty seconds, we’ll have this thing fired back up,” I tell him, trying not to laugh at the situation. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” The poor, or maybe not, guy rambles. Once the crackling of the intercom fades, I pull out of Willow. The loss of her heat pulling at me makes me want to bury myself right back inside of her. “How much do you think he saw?” she asks, straightening her clothes as I put myself back into my jeans, carefully zipping over my still semi-erect cock. Crowding her, I place a kiss to her lips. “Does it matter? We’ll never see him again. Plus, it’s your fault I couldn’t wait. You told me to do it.” I throw her words back at her, smirking when she blushes. “It’s your fault! I’ve wanted that since about thirty seconds after you got on stage tonight,” she admits, letting out a quiet chuckle. “You wanted me inside you?” I ask huskily, the eyes in the sky forgotten when she nods. “Tell me.” “Stone —” “Tell me, Birdie. Tell me you wanted my cock. Wanted me to fuck you. And I’ll hit the button so that we can get out of here and I can make your legs tremble again.” I punctuate my words with a roll of my hips. I don’t know why I’m torturing us; I just know I can’t let her out of this elevator until she tells me. “I wanted you to fuck me. As soon as you slipped your Fender over your head and I saw you fingering the pick I gave you. I needed you to fuck me,” she owns, her voice thick with her need. “Wanted you to play my pussy just like you did the guitar— “ Not letting her finish, I whirl around and slap a hand over the button that will bring us up to our room, my breathing ragged. I did that to myself, and if her giggle is any indication, she knows it. Fucking minx.
Chapter Six BETWEEN THE HEAVY breathing and heated looks, Wills doesn't realize that we've gone right past our floor.
Not until the doors slide open and we enter the foyer, candles flickering, lights dimmed. She stops midstep and starts to retreat back into the elevator. Her back hits my front as I step into her. "Where you goin,' Birdie?" It’s so hard not to lift her up and just slam into her after what transpired in the elevator, but I want her to enjoy this moment. I don’t give her many like it. “Stone, this isn’t our room,” she says, trying to skirt around me. “You sure?” I ask innocently, moving into the room, not giving her a choice other than to move along with me. “Stone, we can’t be here, this isn—” Her voice trails off as she takes in the scene in front of her. The candles casting a soft glow from the tables, the smell of the flowers sitting in vases spread around the room, and the dead giveaway that this is in fact the right place and that we’re supposed to be here — the bundles of watermelon lollipops, tied together with ribbon sitting on the couch, the foyer table, the ottoman, the bar in the corner. Willow whirls around to face me, a hand covering her mouth. She lets it fall and asks in awe, “Did you do this? How? When?” Once again she takes in the room, stepping deeper into the sunken living area, running her fingers along the petals of the bouquet nearest to her. “I have my ways, Birdie. Can’t tell you all of my tricks, now can I?” Glancing my way with a smile, “What about Lyric?” The concern causes her brows to dip. “She’s asleep in her room, the boys are watching her for the night.” I wait for her to panic, but she doesn’t. She knows as well as I do that they can handle a sleeping baby. “So now that you have me here, what will you do with me?” Her smile is seductive, the lilt in her voice music to my fucking ears. Always. Eyes on her, I walk to where she stands and take her hand. “First, I want to give you your presents.” A gentle tug has her following me into the bedroom. “Oh no! Your gift. It’s downstairs in our room.” She pouts, worrying her bottom lip. “I should go and get it.” “It’s okay, it’ll be there tomorrow,” I reassure her. Not looking very convinced, she continues to follow me. As I throw open the doors to the luxury suite, she lets out a small gasp. “Stone! Oh my God! I can’t believe that you did all of this.” There are tears glistening in her eyes, making the whiskey-colored pools look more like warm caramel, her thick lashes fluttering rapidly as she
tries to blink them away. “I know I’m not the best boyfriend, fiancé, whatever. That I tell you with letters and songs instead of show you how much I love you, but you deserve so much more. I know you do. So I wanted to do something that you could see and touch. Not just words.” Willow stands shaking her head at me. “Just words? Stone, those words are everything to me. They’re your show and your tell. Doesn’t get any more real than that.” She smiles. “But feel free to do stuff like this too because WOW!” Turning to face the room again she sighs. “This is breathtaking. The view, the flowers— ” “The lollies…” I toss out with a wicked grin. Looking at me over her shoulder, she tosses out one of her own, just as wicked as mine. “Always the lollies.” “Damn right.” “You’re too much,” she laughs. “You love me.” “That’s the truth.” Making her way over to the bed, she picks up one of the rose petals I had scattered over the silky comforter. A bit cliché, maybe even a little cheesy but it seemed fitting. “Oh! Your gift! Scar must have brought it up here,” she beams. “Yours first though, okay?” Nodding, she sits on the bed expectantly. “Such a good girl,” I chuckle. Her gifts are stacked on the chaise lounge in the corner. I grab them and bring them over to her. She’ll recognize the boxes from Agent Provocateur instantly, the other will be a surprise though. Her eyes fire when I reach her and set the boxes down, sliding the surprise into a drawer. “Wait, before I open these do you mind if I call and check on Lyric?” “Nah, that’s fine, Birdie. I’ll go take a shower really quick, and I know you’ll want to before you let me dirty you up again.” I wink, pressing a kiss to her hair as I walk into the bathroom, stripping as I go. “Tease!” Willow calls after me. “It’s only teasing if you don’t plan on putting out. I’m a sure thing, baby.” I shoot back just as I drop my jeans, the belt and buckle clanking against the marble floor. “Were you on stage commando?” “I was. Easier access” I wink and close the door, leaving her there, lip caught between her bottom lip, eyes raking over me.
A FEW MINUTES later, a towel slung low over my hips, I come out of the steamy bathroom. “Everything
okay with Lyric?” Willow glances up from her whatever she’s looking at on her phone, a smile on her face. “Yep. She’s asleep and the guys let me go through a laundry list of do’s and don’ts before Law hung up on me.” “Sounds about right.” We laugh. Not bothering with clothes, I climb in the bed and lean back against the headboard, the towel still knotted at my waist. “You ready to open these gifts?” I ask, running a finger down her spine. “I am.” Her excitement makes me smile. She’s like a kid on Christmas. I lift my chin in the direction of the packages, indicating for her to go ahead. Giddily she pulls one into her lap and slips the black bow off. Once she has the lid off and the tissue paper pulled back, she sighs happily. “These are all so beautiful. I had my eye on this set,” she says, lifting a black cut-out bra from the box. “I know what you like.” “You know what you like, which is typically why I like it,” she chides. “Baby, I like you in — and out — of anything.” Color creeps across her cheeks. “Yeah you do.” The first box gets laid carefully on the foot of the bed as she reaches for the next. “This is my favorite. We can probably even call it my gift,” I offer with no remorse. “You shouldn’t have gotten me so much! This stuff is expensive, Stone,” Wills says, even as she holds the black lace corset against her. “I’m glad you did though because I fucking love it.” That mouth. She very rarely swears now that Lyric is starting to pick up words, so when she does it sounds extra dirty. I’m already hard just watching her with her hands all over the flimsy lingerie. Seeing her in it might kill me. While I watch her, thinking about how she’s going to look wearing nothing but that pretty flush and her even prettier little panties, she goes to stand. “Not yet, Birdie. There’s one more.” From the drawer next to me, I pull out an envelope, nervous all of a sudden. “What’s this? Last time you handed me an envelope was one of the best moments of my life,” she murmurs, taking it from me. I don’t say anything, I just watch her unfold the paper and scan the contents. Her eyes shoot up to mine once she realizes what I’ve just handed her. “You bought it? The lot on the beach? And these are the house plans?” Her voice rises in pitch, excitement brightening her features with each question. “I did. And they are. Well, rough plans. I told the architect that you would be making all of the final decisions.” She launches herself at me, peppering me with kisses, thank you’s, and I love you’s. “When you didn’t mention it anymore, I figured you decided not to go through with it.” “I was just wanting to surprise you with it, I didn’t think that it would take as long as it did. It was
supposed to be a Christmas present.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t even care. I’m so excited. Thank you so much.” With one final kiss and a little squeal, she grabs up her box and dashes toward the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower, putting on my new pretties, and then I’ll give you your present.” The door closes before I can respond, leaving me alone to once again think about her in those fucking panties.
Chapter Seven WILLOW IS ONLY gone for about ten minutes, but tell that to my cock. It might as well have been ten days.
The click of the door opening catches my attention, and the grin on my face plunges as I see that she’s wearing one of the white fluffy robes that were hanging in the bathroom. “The fuck? Birdie, why you gotta be so mean?” I whine, making her laugh. “I want to give you your present, and that won’t happen if I don’t hide behind this robe.” She’s right and we both know it. Willow walks over to the dresser grabbing the bag and bringing it to me. Climbing onto the bed, she sits beside me, shoulder to shoulder, and hands me the gift, my curiosity brimming at the look on her face. It’s a mixture of anxiety, a little bit of fear, and something I can’t put a finger on. “What did ya get me, Birdie?’ I singsong, digging into the bag and pulling out a leather-bound book. A photo album? I turn it to face me and flip it open and freeze. There, on the very first page, is my Wills. Naked. Lying on a downy white comforter, leg bent just enough that I can see the smooth skin of her pussy but nothing else. Dark hair splayed out around her, pink lolli in her mouth the same color as her bared nipples. Fuck me. Slowly I raise my eyes to her and find her watching me, waiting for my reaction. “Who took this?” The need racing through me hotter than the fucking sun. My gaze falls to her lips then back down to the picture as I wait for her to answer. “Perry,” she answers quietly. I figured as much but wanted to make sure that it was Perry, one of her best friends and — more importantly — a woman, and not some random photographer. I can feel her eyes on me as I turn the page to reveal the next picture, this one of a still-naked Willow on her stomach looking at the camera with a coy smile, her rounded ass drawing my attention. I groan low in my throat — it might be more of a growl — as I flip again and again. Each picture making my cock harder, my breathing more labored, my heart beat more rapid. Until I get to the last picture and it’s different. It’s a picture of my bedroom at home. A painting hanging above the bed that wasn’t there before. I’m a little slow on deciphering what it is at first because all I can see in my mind are the pictures that came before this one. “Do you know what that is?” she asks quietly I shake my head that I don’t. “It’s a sound wave,” Willow explains. Glancing up at her, I wait for her to tell me more. “I had it made. It’s a sound wave of me saying I love you. Just like the one in your tattoo.” My emotions are in a riot. Part of me wants to throw her down and ravish every inch of her. Fuck her
until she forgets her own name. And the other part of me wants to lay her down and worship her body, leave my mark on her soul same as she has on mine. “Wills,” I start and stop. Looking back down at the book, flipping from front to back again while she waits for me to finish what I started to say. “I fucking love you, Birdie. I mean, I really fucking love you.” “I know. I love you too, Stone,” she answers softly. Ravish or worship? Ravish or worship? The thought plays over and over. Carefully I set the book aside, never taking my eyes off of her. Reaching out, I slip my hand in the knot of the belt, my tattoos bold splashes of color against the pristine white of the cotton. “I want this off,” I tell her, parting the lapels as I do. The air is pulled from my lungs in a hiss when the robe falls from her shoulders and pools onto the bed. “Fuck me,” I murmur under my breath. She put on what I’d hoped she would. The black bra that was nothing but triangles of sheer material framing her breasts. Her nipples already pebbled under my gaze. Pulling her to her feet, not caring that my towel has fallen to the floor leaving me standing with a clearly obvious hard on, I turn her around so that I can get a look at the scrap of panties I’m about to slide down her legs. “As sexy as these are,” I slip a finger under the scant piece of material at her hip, “I want them off too. I want to see the pussy hiding underneath. The one I’m going to tattoo my fucking name all over with my cock.” Attempting to be gentle, I work the thong down her hips and legs, following them until I’m on my knees in front of her. “There, that’s better.” Balanced with a hand on my shoulder, she steps out of them. Not able to help myself, I lean forward, putting my mouth right on her pussy. First in a soft kiss, then with a swipe of my tongue. Just enough to catch some of her wetness. Willows hands fly to my head, tangling in my loose hair. “Fuck,” slips past her parted lips. Barely a breath. “Oh, we’re going to, Birdie. I promise you that.” Rising to my feet, I slide my hands up her body, caressing every dip and curve as I go. When she reaches behind her to remove her bra, I stop her. “Leave it on,” I command as I move her back to the bed and lay her down. “You’re perfect. Every damn inch of you is perfect…and mine.” Willow nods in agreement, squeezing her legs together, pressing them, begging me with her eyes to take the edge off. Not yet. At her side, I reach for one of the watermelon flavored lollipops I had placed within arm’s reach. We haven’t played with them in a while, not since we’d been touring anyway. Ever so slowly, I unwrap the candy and slide it into my mouth, wetting it. Willow’s eyes watch my every move, fluttering closed when I pull the lolli from my mouth and circle it around her nipple over and over in lazy arcs. First one and then the other before replacing the candy with my mouth. Sucking and nipping them into hardened peaks. “Mmmm,” is all I manage because she spreads her legs, throwing one over my thigh in invitation. “You want this in your pussy?” I rasp, my tongue darting out to swipe at her tit one more time.
A soft moan is my answer. Popping the candy back in my mouth, I position myself between her thighs so that I can watch every move I make. Molten. My blood is fucking molten as I roll the pink watermelon flavored ball around her clit and then slide it down, dipping inside her pussy, watching as it disappears before I pull it out and do it again. “Fuck, Stone. Fuck.” I look up at her, eyes wild as she watches with me while I repeat the motion all over again. Around and around, up and down, in and out until I can feel that tremble that starts in her thighs. The one that tells me she’s close. I want to draw this out, but I’m not strong enough. Fucking her in the elevator was foreplay. With tattooed fingers wrapped around the stick, I push in and pull out, twisting before it slips free. Covering her clit with my mouth I mimic the movements I’m making with the lolli. Pinching it between my teeth when her back arches and she screams my name as wave after wave of her orgasm rolls over and through her. When she settles, her breathing still ragged, I pull the candy from her pussy and bring it to my lips. It’s one of my favorite parts of this little fetish of ours. To taste her sweetness mingled with that of the candy and then for her to do the same. Slowly I slide it out of my mouth and slip it in between her lips. With her whiskey-colored eyes locked on me, she sucks the candy, rolling it around her tongue, savoring the flavors of her pleasure. I can’t take another minute of it and pull it from her. “I sang pretty tonight, Birdie,” I whisper, covering her body with my own. “So pretty,” she says, a satisfied smile lighting up her face. “You know what that means right?” As I ask I slide my cock into her, the wet heat of her pussy pulling me in deeper. Willow nods, leaning up and biting my pec. The muscle tightens as she does it again then uses her tongue to trace over the tattoo there. “It means I have to fuck you pretty,” she purrs in a voice laced with need. “Tonight it means I’m gonna fuck you pretty, Birdie.” Arms snaking underneath her, hands tunneled through her hair, I yank gently, tipping her head back and arching her throat, making it easier for me to get at. I bite down at the same time as I slam into her. Willows mouth falls open on a sigh, followed by a groan. “Do that again,” she orders me in a breathy voice. And I do. Over and over as she claws at my back and arches even further into me. The urgency builds as I sink deeper and deeper into her. Taking everything she’s offering and then some as her pussy pulses around me, she shatters my resolve when she peaks. One more thrust and I’m falling. Drowning. Soaring. Crashing. Stars explode behind my eyelids as I slam them closed at the intensity of my orgasm. Riding out the high we’re both on, I slowly ease us back to solid ground with gentle kisses, whispered words. I’ve ravished her, now I need to worship her. Smoothing her hands up and down my spine, she tickles over the ink across my shoulders and up the side of my neck and back down again. Rhythmic fingers, lulling us both.
Not wanting to let her go, I roll to the side and drag her against me. Tucked into my chest, our hearts start beating in a familiar rhythm. “Feel that?” I can feel her smile against my neck, her hair tickling when she nods. “I love you, Stone,” she murmurs against my skin. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” She kisses the pulse point just under her lips. “Tell me.” I smile knowing what she’s asking. “My heart doesn’t beat in rhythm when you’re not around.” Willow nestles in even closer. “You gotta know I need you, to be me,” I tell her, just like I have a million times before. I mean it just as much now as I did the very first time. And I’ll mean it every time from now until I fucking die. She’s my rhythm. And everyone knows that a rock star with no rhythm is a man with no soul.
THE END
Also By Mandi STONED A Wrecked NovelAmazon US Amazon UK Amazon AU Amazon CA Love Hurts Caged Love Series Book One Amazon US Amazon UK Amazon AU Love Burns Caged Love Series Book Two Amazon US Amazon UK Amazon AU
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Livi's Love
by MJ Fields and
Chelsea Camaron
Chapter One Little Slut Hendrix
“BRO, I’M TELLING you; she’s knocked up.” Morrison chuckles.
“Like hell she is,” I grumble. “Look at those tits. Those are pregnant tits if I ever saw them.” I fight the urge to smack him on the back of the head. “When the hell have you ever seen a pregnant dog’s tits?” “Movies and shit.” He nods. “Bullshit,” I say, scratching my head as I look at Floyd’s belly. “Let’s think about this … Your wife takes your dog out for a walk, Floyd slips the collar, and she takes off after another dog. Livi calls you in hysterics as she’s running after this little canoodler.” He scratches her belly, and when she growls, he pulls his hand back and growls back at her. “You tell Livi that she best not fucking get between two dogs, to stay put, and leave the bar with Sally to save her. You find them, Livi is crying, Floyd is getting pounded by some rogue mutt, and you’re telling me there’s no way Floyd here is pregnant when you saw her getting nailed?” He again reaches down to pet her belly, and she again growls. “She got fixed, so yeah, I’m telling you she’s not pregnant.” “If I were you, I’d take her into the bathroom and have her piss on a stick.” He starts laughing at his own joke. “You see that shit in a movie, too, Morrison?” I snap at him, even though it’s not his damn fault. It’s no one’s fault. Bad shit happens, and you move the fuck on. He continues to laugh. “Take the damn dog to the vet. I got the bar.” I get up to grab my coat and Floyd’s leash to do just that. “Livi comes in, don’t tell her. She’s gonna flip.” “You want me to lie to your wife?” He’s shocked. Hell, I am, too. This isn’t something I want to hide from Livi, but I damn sure don’t want to tell her until I know what’s going on. Floyd is my Pit Bull and the first female to really get me. However, she’s now more in love with Livi
than she is me, and that’s saying something. “No, asshole. Just don’t tell her,” I grumble as I throw on my coat and hook Floyd up. When we walk outside, Floyd takes the opportunity to pop a squat. I turn my back, giving her some privacy and look over at my bar. Things have changed since Livi came into my life. Hell, everything has changed: my bar, my family, my everything. The way me and Livi met was damn near like the storybooks Mama used to read to us after she locked us together in a room when the old man came home drunk and took it out on her. I can still picture the smile on her swollen lips, her bruised cheeks raised ever so slightly as she read to us. Looking back, I think it was as much for her as it was for us. She always swore she was okay, easing our terror, and she kept the hope alive by way of the damn happily ever afters. When she died, it was done. None of us pretended to feel less than hatred for that fuck of a sperm donor. Hell, I had stopped doing it a couple years prior. Not long after she died, I met a girl at a masquerade ball, a fundraiser for HPV, which was the cause of Mom’s death, of all things. I fucked her in a coat closet, the masks remaining on our faces—her idea. Afterward, all I had of her was a pair of panties, the memory of how fucking good she felt wrapped around my cock, and the taste of her mouth on my tongue. All she had of me was my last name. “Call me Caldwell,” I had told her. Couple days later, a girl, my Livi, ends up showing up at my place for a part-time job, unable to make ends meet with her full-time job at the hospital as a social worker. I gave it to her because the little shit needed it. Certainly wasn’t because she could pour a draft. She was a fucking train wreck behind the bar. My brother Morrison introduced himself, saying, “Call me Caldwell,” and she went on a head trip, trying to figure out which of the three of us Caldwell men had given her a sweet ache between her legs. Let’s just say I had the magic panties, and she eventually told me … while she was drunk. I never intended on marrying. No fucking way. I fucked women who shared my same philosophy on monogamy. Until her. The woman I fucked in the coat closet played me. She was supposed to be strong and liked to fuck. Come to find out, that night was Livi’s attempt to take power back that had been ripped away from her when she was way too fucking young. I was no hero, but I wanted to be hers. She was quirky as fuck. Who the hell am I kidding? She still is, and I adore the hell out of her. “You ready?” I ask, looking down at Floyd. Swear to fuck, she nods. “Let’s go find out what the hell we’re facing.”
She sighs. “If you’re knocked up, I am going to be so fucking pissed at you.”
Chapter Two Bavarian Crème Livi
WHEN I WAKE up, I feel beside me to find the bed is empty. No Hendrix and no Floyd. I would like to say
that upsets me, but that would be false. I sprawl out on my back, which Hendrix would have a complete fit over, because pregnant women aren’t supposed to sleep on their backs. However, I know it will be fine for just a few minutes. Staring at the ceiling, I rub my huge belly and smile. I smile at the fact that this baby, our baby, is going to be so loved. He or she will have two parents who will give them the ooey gooey type of love. Kisses and hugs. Laughs and smiles each and every day. When we first found out that I was pregnant, Hendrix was adamant we search for a house. However, I told him I loved it here. That this place is home. He doesn’t listen much, that stubborn man. He went searching for the better school districts, houses in the suburbs, the ones with big yards and climbing trees. In the end, anything that had everything he wanted gave us at least a forty-five-minute commute, one way, each day. He told me I would have to leave work because he would be damned if I was going to be on the road in the winter for that length of time. I told him I would be damned if I stopped working. After a huge fight, which for us, is not talking for over thirty minutes, he said we could stay here until our child is close to entering school, and I told him I would go down to part-time. That way, we can keep our insurance, and I can continue to do what I went to college for. Then he kissed me … I look to my left and roll to my side, hugging his pillow tightly and taking in a big breath. Now I am just a little upset he’s not here. God, this man owns me. Lucky for me, I own him, too. There was a time when I wondered if I was strong enough to be a good mother. Then the question of what exactly is a good mother arose in my head. Some may judge my mother for not seeing the signs of abuse when I would return home from my
father’s. Or that she should have dug deeper to find out why I flat-out refused to visit him anymore. All of those things should have been warning signs, thus making her a bad mom. Some would also say Hendrix’s mother, a woman who raised her boys in an abusive home and didn’t have the strength to leave, was a bad mom. To me, all those people would be wrong. My mother was busy raising me while starting a new family. I am sure she thought that, if anything like that was happening to me, I would have spoken up. It wasn’t her fault; it wasn’t mine … It was his. Hendrix’s mother wasn’t a bad mother, either. She did what she thought was best for her sons. She ended up raising three good men, and she raised them to want to be better, stronger. She raised them to be the good in a world that things like what we went through happened every day. She left a legacy so strong if mountains needed to be moved for the ones they love, I’m sure the Caldwell brothers could find a way to do it. I believe there is an evolutionary process that happens throughout generations. Each wants to do a little better than the last for their children. If my theory is right, our child will be loved as much, looked after a little closer, and be better than we are. “Not to put any pressure on you,” I whisper to my belly then laugh, stopping myself before the snort escapes. It’s a quirk and thankfully, one my man loves. Hendrix and I, we are good people. I think it took us coming together to realize just how good we are. I stand up and rub my belly again. “You have no idea how lucky you are. A real-life Prince Charming is your daddy.” After using the bathroom and taking a very quick bath, another thing Hendrix would have a fit over, I throw on my robe and walk out to the kitchen. On the counter is a note, and next to the note is a cup of what I know is decaffeinated coffee with french vanilla creamer and a big, fat chocolate frosted donut with Bavarian crème filling. I take a sip of the coffee, finding it’s still hot, but not too hot. Then I grab the note and read it. Going in. Taking Floyd so you and the baby can get some rest. Love you, Liv. Love. Isn’t it a beautiful and magical thing? I decide against staying home and cleaning. I need to go see him.
Chapter Three Vintage Haze Hendrix
AFTER THE VET appointment, I decide to stop by home to put Floyd’s ass inside. I can’t even look at her
right now. Plus, she’s a bitch, and I don’t need her biting anyone. Or her getting upset, I admit to myself. When I pull up in front of the house, I see that Livi’s not here. Then I receive a text message. Looking at my phone, I see the message is from her and that I just missed her. Thank you for the sweets. Love you, Hendrix. You’re a prince. ~Livi Caldwell~ “You’re lucky she’s not here to see you right now,” I grumble to Floyd as I open the door and she hops out, stretches, and then yawns. “Tired out from raising hell at the vets?” I ask as I walk her inside. “Me, too. Not that you’re off the hook for taking off and getting knocked up, but seriously, how the fuck does that happen? How does a vet give you a certificate saying you’re fixed, and then come to find out, it never happened? Looked at me like I was an idiot because there was no scar. I’m no fucking vet. But you can bet your ass I’ll raise hell at that clinic, too. One in a million, she said. That’s so fucked up, Floyd. Only you.” I pat her head as I shake mine. “Only you.” We walk inside the garage and up the stairs to the apartment. Then I open her bag of treats and pull out a big-ass pig’s foot, setting it in front of her. “This doesn’t mean congratulations, you hear me? It’s not the dog equivalent of flowers. I’m not proud of you. I’m kind of pissed.” She smiles. Yes, she does. Even my brothers can tell. How? When she shows her teeth a little, and no growl comes out, that means Floyd is happy and doesn’t want to bite you. Therefore, it’s a smile.
I sigh as I squat down beside her and give her a pet. “Get some rest and stay the hell out of the donuts. That’s Livi’s thing. You may know where they are, but she doesn’t, so stay the hell out of them and eat that nasty looking foot thing instead.” I stand up, and she smiles again. “Bitch, please. I’m not fucking happy. I have to go tell my wife, who is also pregnant, that it’s not her fault that you’re knocked up. I know damn well she’ll think it is, and then she’ll get all stressy about it. So help me God, Floyd, if she buys panties that say, ‘Consent is fucking required,’ for you, I’m gonna find you a new home.” I shake my head and walk out the fucking door.
WHEN I WALK into the bar, I am met with a gorgeous smile, a little lip bite, and a, “Hey there, husband.”
“Livi, you’re here early,” I comment as she wipes down the bar. “I would have been here earlier had you woken me.” She sets down the cloth then rubs her belly as she walks around the bar. She’s so fucking sexy pregnant. I don’t want to scare the hell out of her, but I want her like this all the time—soft, round, and so fucking happy. Not that she’s ever unhappy, but motherhood looks good on Livi. Almost as good as I do. “Thought I’d get myself off this morning and let you rest.” Literally, I think to myself. She doesn’t even catch it. Yes, I want her all the damn time. I hear Morrison chuckle and give him the eye. “You got the bar for a few minutes?” I ask him while taking ahold of Livi’s face, giving her a kiss. “Not a problem,” Morrison answers. I now take Livi’s belly in my hands, bend down, and give it a kiss, too. Then I make my way back up to her face, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead as I take her hand. “Need to chat, Liv.” “Everything okay?” She cups the side of my cheek. Fuck no, I want to say, but I resign myself to a nod and a smile. Once in the kitchen, I lift her up and sit her on the stainless-steel island before putting my hands on either side of her ass and looking her square in her pretty eyes, telling her, “Baby, a miracle has happened today.” It takes every fucking thing I have to try to twist this shit into a pretty little story for her, but I am going to do it.
“Really?” She smiles big and brightly. I nod. “Floyd’s been acting off, so I took her to the vet—” “Oh no, why didn’t you tell me? I would have gone with you. Is she okay? Is it cancer? Oh God, is she —” “Pregnant,” I tell her with a tight-lipped smile. I fucking try for more, but that’s the best I got. “She’s fixed,” she states what should have been the obvious, confusion marring her brow. “Well, not only did a miracle happen, but a scam was exposed.” I keep that smile on my face. “A scam?” “Apparently, the certificate from that fucking clinic was wrong. They didn’t touch Floyd.” I pause, trying to keep my cool. “So, Liv, we’re gonna have puppies.” She doesn’t look the least bit upset, which is kind of shocking. Instead, she looks excited. She is excited. “We need to get everything ready,” she says, grabbing both sides of my face and pulling it close to kiss the hell out of me. When she starts to pull away, I drag her in closer and take over the kiss. Then, when my cock stiffens, I pull her ass to the edge of the counter and rub against her. “I wanna fuck you right here.” I thrust forward. “Right now.” “There’s a bar full of people,” she says on a moan as I kiss down her neck. “They can go to hell.” I push up the tee-shirt she’s wearing. It’s my “Purple Haze” vintage tee. The woman doesn’t think she needs maternity clothes and prefers to wear mine. “You can’t take my shirt off.” She giggles as I pull it off, exposing her black bra that is spilling with delightful Ds she’s now sporting over the cup. “It’s my shirt, so you bet your ass I can.” I easily pop one tit out and give her nipple a nice, long suck. “Oh … Oh, yes … I like that,” she moans. Pregnancy tits are amazing, so plump, so tender, and so ready for attention. “Yeah?” I ask while popping the other free and giving it the same attention. “Yes … Oh, yes,” she groans. I continue to lick and suck at each of her soft, supple mounds. I loved her tits before, but now, fuck … Now they are huge, giving me that much more room to lick and touch. When she fists my hair tighter, I know she needs more, so I grab her ass and pull it against my denim clad hard-on, and she rolls her hips, moaning. She reaches between us, but I move her hands away as I suck harder on her tit while kneading the other. “But …” she moans. “You …” I let her tit pop out of my mouth and groan out, “No, this is all you.”
And it is. She wraps her legs around me tighter, and I go back to sucking and playing with her sexy as fuck tits. She can’t get close enough, though, and she’s getting agitated. Hot as hell knowing the build-up is fucking epic, but that’s not how I am trying to roll. I’m trying to get my wife off physically, because she gets me off in a fucked-up way. I have never been a spiritual man. Always thought God was just like all those fairy tales Mom used to read, just a way to keep humanity straight. Livi fucks me in that way on the daily. I know damn well God made her for me, and me for her. “Oh, please,” she whimpers, and I pull back. “Stay,” I tell her as she reaches for me. I quickly make my way to the kitchen door and lock that shit. Even quicker, I make my way back to my crazy Livi. I used to call her crazy because … Well, she kind of fucking was. Now I know why, though. All that love and do-gooder shit she has going on in the beautiful mind, it’s crazy fucking beautiful. Just like her. “Lean back,” I tell her, pushing aside the fresh linens delivered this morning as I hook my fingers in her black leggings and tug them down, along with her panties. After I toss them to the floor, I go back to her tits. “Fuck me,” she whimpers, and her tit falls out of my mouth. “Christ, Livi.” I unbuckle my belt and shove my jeans down. Then I pull her to the edge of the stainless-steel table before putting each of her legs up so they rest on my shoulders. Licking my finger, I push it inside her, and she moans out a long, breathy, “Yes …” I didn’t really need to make sure she is wet. Her pussy is glistening, telling me she is ready. I rub the head of my cock up and down her lips before sinking in nice and slowly. “Fuck,” I groan. “Fuck yes.”
Chapter Four Pup Prep Livi
SITTING AT HOME on the couch with my tablet on my lap and Floyd next to me, I thumb through website after
website about a dog’s gestational stages. “I think we should make you an e-mail address, Floyd. That way, you can get daily updates on what’s going on inside your belly like I do.” I pet her head as I look through the site. Without a doubt, she was impregnated on that walk where she took off after that stray dog that was eating garbage. The last walk I took her on without my husband. That male dog gladly gave up the bone he was chewing on to give her what she was clearly asking for. How did we not know she was in heat? Or that she hadn’t been fixed? These are questions I will wipe from my head because, sometimes, things just happen and there seems to be no rhyme nor reason for it. Best not to give any worry to it. “Looks like you have a month,” I say calmly to my canine companion. Although anxiety threatens, I push it away, knowing we will make everything work out. Since meeting Hendrix, it always has. I fill my Amazon cart with everything I can think of that she will need: a large crate, a new water and food dish, a new blanket that has puppies all over it—so cute—a waterproof bedcover to go under it so the floor doesn’t get ruined, and a tarp to place under the crate to double ensure that doesn’t happen. Hendrix just refinished all the floors, and they are beautiful. I wouldn’t want them to get messed up. After a very busy day of shopping, I decide to take a nap. “Come on, Floyd; let’s go nap. You can get on the bed. Hendrix will never know.”
I AWAKE TO the sound of hammering, and so does Floyd. I know it’s coming from the garage below, but I
have no idea who would be down there.
Floyd doesn’t bark, doesn’t even seem concerned, so my assumption is it’s Hendrix. I grab my phone and look at it. It’s four in the afternoon, and I have a message from Hendrix telling me he will be home by four. “Well, I guess we know who that is.” I pet her then push myself up off the bed. When I walk down the stairs from the apartment, I hear the scream of a saw and look back as Floyd lays down, not wanting to be bothered with the stairs that leads to the noise. She hates that sound. When I open the door, I see my husband. His hair is held back by a do-rag, safety glasses protecting his eyes, and he is leaning over a saw that is spitting sawdust out the back of it. A piece of wood falls to the cement floor below. He hefts up a large two-by-four and walks toward me. “Hey, Liv.” “Hey, yourself. What are you doing?” I lean in and give him a kiss. “Apparently, making a whelping box for our dog.” His eyebrow raises slightly, and I cringe, knowing I’m busted for my overstuffed virtual shopping cart. “You saw?” “I did.” He winks then turns to walk toward the corner that is now clear of tools and … car stuff. “Sorry?” He laughs. “No, you’re not.” “I am so,” I argue, walking closer to him. “No big deal, Liv. At least there isn’t a box a day showing up at the bar or here anymore.” “It’s like a wish list now.” “I know that.” He chuckles. “I’m glad that one-click finger has taken a break.” It’s not about the money I spend. I’m not overly extravagant. He hates the idea of not supporting local businesses. I totally understand, seeing how our livelihood is dependent on the local economy. I can’t help when the mood strikes and those websites make ordering so easy. “Just gotta support those who support us,” he comments, getting down on his knees. “I know.” I bend over and hold a two-by-four steady so he can screw it to the other one. “Thanks, babe.” He nods then goes about building a frame for what I know is going to be an amazing whelping box, one made with love, by my man for his dog. God, I love him. When the box has been framed, he stands, crossing his arms, and then he rubs his jaw. “It looks good,” I tell him. He nods. “I have a question, though.” He looks over at me. “Shoot.” “Is this thing going to fit upstairs?”
Chapter Five No. Not happening Hendrix
LIV,” I SIGH. “Floyd loves it down here. Always has.”
“But—” “It’s a great place for her to …”—I pause, wanting to say, “make a fucking mess of shit,” which is exactly what’s going to happen, but I Livi it down a tad—“give birth, feed her pups, and shit.” The worry in her eyes makes my chest tighten. I need to go smoother. “It’s close to the door. She doesn’t have to take the stairs when she and those”—fuck, keep it tight, Hendrix, I tell myself—“pups have to shit.” She takes a deep breath and rubs her belly. Fuck, I think, trying to remain calm. Gotta keep her that way. “I’m gonna fence in a little patch out back so we can let them run around outside without getting”—I blow out a breath of frustration—“lost or something.” Her worry lessens. Good damn thing. “You wanna go out for dinner?” I ask. “No, I can cook something.” She steps forward and gives me a hug. “Let’s hit that little diner,” I suggest, kissing her head. “You mean The Diner?” She steps back and smiles, and I nod. “The one with those—” “Brownie sundaes,” I finish for her, knowing she loves those damn things. She grins and steps away. “I’ll go get ready.” I grab her hands. “Grab me a shirt?” “Gotcha.” She smiles then takes off. I stick two fingers in my mouth and give a whistle. “Floyd, get your ass down here.” “You taking her for a walk?” Livi yells down. Only then do I hear Floyd start coming down the stairs. I shake my head at her as I hook her up to the leash. “Remember when you used to only like me? Yeah,
me, too. Now you don’t even listen to shit I say. Just Liv. Now, I get that she’s prettier than me and shit, but I saved your nasty, little ass. You hear me?” She plops down on her ass, yawns, and looks away. “Such a bitch,” I grumble. It’s warm for February in Detroit, but not that fucking warm. Floyd’s taking her sweet damn time, too. She’s sniffing everything and going her own damn way. “We need to hurry it up,” I tell her, but she just yanks me farther away from our place. “Floyd, you need to chill the fuck out.” She lets out a loud fucking bark and tears ass toward what better be the piss spot of the century. I keep up with her as she rounds a corner. “Oh, fuck no,” I snap when I see that flea-bitten, big black tangled up, lab mix, player mutt that got her knocked up. He barks back, his scraggly ass tail flapping back and forth. “No fucking go. I’m not down for this shit, Floyd. You piss, and we’re out. Unless his ugly ass is going to pay some pup support, this shit’s not fucking happening.” I give the leash a tug and direct her ass out of the fucking alley. She growls and pulls back. “I will pick you the fuck up and carry you back, you hear me?” I look up to see the mutt is trotting toward her. I point at him. “I will destroy you.” I hear a gasp, look left, and sigh. Seriously? A line of kids in school uniforms walk past me, a nun in the front and a nun in the back. There are so many fucking jokes going on in my head right now I almost laugh. The one in the back is giving me a look like I should be ashamed. Typically, I would tell any motherfucker who looked at me like that to mind their own fucking business, but it’s a nun and there are kids. Fuuuuck! I scream in my head. I look back to see the mutt is sniffing her ass, and she is all tail-raised and letting him. “Damage may be done, but you, you need to stay the hell away,” I snarl at him, tugging at her again. Bitch isn’t moving. I bend down and, as promised, pick her up. She’s no little fucking thing, either. She growls and bares teeth. “You bite me, I will make damn sure to do it back, but harder.” She lays her big old head on my shoulder and whines. “Tough shit,” I tell her, marching my ass back toward home. When I turn the corner, I hear a bark and look behind me.
“Oh, fuck no. Fuck. No!” Floyd’s now trying to jump down, getting all sorts of unmanageable. I know damn well if I don’t put her down, she’s going to get hurt. I set her down, and mutt dog trots up, tail still wagging. “Listen to me, muttley crew, you and I are gonna come to an agreement. Your ass comes no closer than here.” I point up to the sign. “The corner of euthanasia and animal cruelty is the cut off. You get any closer to my house, and it’s on.” He doesn’t listen. His nose is buried in her ass, and hers in his. “You got two minutes to say your good-byes.” I turn my back on them, feeling totally fucking ridiculous as I try to figure out what the hell I’m going to do. If Livi sees him, shit is going to get crowded. Really fucking crowded. “Okay, Floyd, let’s go,” I say and start walking. She follows, but so does he. I stop and point at the sign. “I’m not fucking around.”
Chapter Six Brownie Sundaes Livi
I OPEN THE door to look down the street and see Hendrix coming toward me.
“There you are.” His steps quicken. “Yeah, just … Well, you know, she had to piss.” I nod, rubbing my belly. “I know exactly how you feel. All the time, huh, girl.” He steps toward me, and I step back. He could have gone around me, but … hmm. Must be in a hurry. He slams the door behind him and takes my hand. “You want me to go grab dinner? I won’t forget the sundae. I mean, it’s seriously fucking cold out there, Liv. You don’t want to go out.” I laugh at him. “What are you talking about? It’s pretty nice out today.” He sighs and nods as he unhooks Floyd’s leash. “Fine.” “You change. I’ll take Floyd upstairs.” I hand him a sweatshirt then turn around to see Floyd sniffing at the back door. “Do you have to go again?” “No. No, she doesn’t; pissed up a storm. She’s good.” He points at the door leading into the house. “Take her up, and I’ll change.” I open the door and have to call for Floyd to follow me. She normally isn’t this difficult, but she seems sad. I wonder if she knows Hendrix is building her the whelping box and that she won’t be upstairs. Or maybe she’s just pregnant and tired. Upstairs, she walks over and sits by the window, not the normal place she sits when she comes inside. “Your pillow’s over here, girl.” She doesn’t budge, so I drag it over to her. “We’ll be back,” I tell her before placing a kiss on top of her head. When I get downstairs, Hendrix is pacing, which is unlike him. “Are you okay?” I ask walking, toward him. He nods. “Just hungry.” He opens the back door and steps out, pulling me tighter than normal against him. “So, sundaes, huh?” he says loudly, making me laugh.
“Are you excited about sundaes?” “So fucking excited.” He stops and stands in front of me before he hugs me, holding my head to his chest as he starts to walk backward. “You’re gonna fall,” I warn him, trying to step back. “I know every crack on this street, Liv.” “But you never—” “Just wanna hold you close; that’s all.” “Aw …” I say, allowing it. Hendrix isn’t always warm and fuzzy. As a matter of fact, he never really is. I mean, he’s sweet and protective. He holds my hand in public, tucks me under his arm when he wants me to be closer, pulls me against him when we watch movies or television, and in bed, he is always touching me. When we kiss, it’s sometimes sweet, but often leads to sex. My husband is all sex and rock and roll. He’s not sugar and sweet without a reason, and last I looked, I’m not sad or crying. Odd, but I will take it. I wrap my arms around him, and his chest vibrates in a very sexual hum. Now that’s my Hendrix.
WE STAND WAITING for a back table for more than ten minutes. My stomach is growling, knowing there is
chocolate close by. “I’m good with a booth by the window,” I say, looking up at him. He nods. “See Jagger’s business partner over there?” I look in the direction he nodded. “Oh, my gosh, is that Kid?” “It is.” “He’s with a girl?” I whisper. I only see her from the back, but she seems very attractive and her clothes look rich, well they look like they’re a nice quality. They’re both leaning into the conversation. “Appears to be.” “Should we say hi?” He shakes his head. “He saw us and looked down. I say he wants privacy, and the only booths available are close to him. Wouldn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.” He pauses, and then almost like he’s thinking aloud, he says, “Haven’t ever seen him with a woman.” No sooner do the words leave his mouth that the couple in the booth right next to us get up, throw money on the table, and leave. “Well, I say we grab that one.” His body tenses, and I give him an odd look.
“What is going on with you?” “Just hungry.” “Problem solved.” I slip out from under his arm as the waitress finishes clearing and wiping down the table. “A table just opened up, Mr. Caldwell. Let’s take it, shall we?” I start to sit when he grabs my elbow gently. “We can take this booth if you’ll sit next to me.” “Of course.” I start to move. Right before I sit, he says, “Let me slide in, just in case.” I laugh. “You hate being on the inside.” “Yeah, but you may need to get in and out to use the bathroom.” Aw … How thoughtful. “Do you know how sweet you are?” He doesn’t answer as he slides into the booth and pats the spot next to him.
Chapter Seven I’m Gonna Kill That Thing. Hendrix
FUCK, I THINK to myself. I’m not sweet. I’m a fucking shitbag.
I look out the window while Livi is looking over the menu, seeing that mutt is looking right at me. I walked backward like an asshole the whole way here so she wouldn’t see him following us and now, now he’s waiting for me. I bare my teeth at him, and the damn fool cocks his head to the side. “Go away,” I mouth. “So, do you know what you’re gonna have?” Livi asks, bringing my attention back to her. “Mac and cheese and …” I pause when I hear barking. That stupid son of a bitch needs to leave. Just go. “And …?” Livi asks, giggling. “Mac and cheese,” I answer, distracted. She cups my chin and turns me to face her. “You want mac and cheese, and mac and cheese?” I lean in and press my forehead to hers. “Mac and cheese and pussy sounds better.” “Shh,” she says, looking around. Okay, I said that shit to distract her, yet now … Now I’m fucking distracted. “I wanted it this morning,” I remind her. She blushes. “You had it.” “I wanted to eat it.” She covers my mouth with her hand. “You … What has gotten into you?” “I always want to eat it, Liv.” “That’s not what I’m talking about,” she whispers. “You’re acting all sugar and sweetness, and not sex and rock and roll” “I’m sex, Liv, and rock and roll. Don’t forget that.” “Well, you overdosed me on sweetness on the way here. I think I’m an addict now.”
Great, you fucking idiot, I scold myself. “Well, maybe it’s a bug or something. I know a way to work it out of your system.” “A cleanse?” She giggles. I wink. “Something like that.” The waitress takes our order. Liv gets pasta and meatballs, and I get meatloaf and macaroni and cheese. Both of us order a sundae for dessert. I know Livi will eat more than half of mine. And that’s cool with me. Kid walks by and nods before going back to looking at his feet as he follows a pretty damn attractive woman out. “He likes her,” Livi whispers. “I think you’re right.” When we finish our early dinner and walk out, the mutt is gone. I am fucking relieved.
WHEN I WAKE up at seven the next morning, Floyd’s not in bed. She’s giving me and Livi the cold shoulder.
I walk out of the bedroom in my bare feet, regretting not putting some socks on, since it’s so fucking cold. That’s when I see Floyd has her nose resting against the window. “You pissed at me still?” I ask her. She doesn’t say shit, not that I expect her to, but whatever. “You want to eat before you piss?” I ask as I walk back toward the bedroom to grab some sweats and a pair of socks to bundle up in before I take her for a walk. Of course, she doesn’t answer again. When I come back out, she’s at the kitchen door, waiting for me. “You acknowledging me now?” I ask, opening the door. Her tail wags, but I don’t get a damn smile. Once outside, I hear a bark right before my arm is nearly pulled out of its socket. I look up. “Muttley, what the fuck did I tell you?” I snap at him, and his tail wags. Once we get to him, which is a hell of a lot quicker than expected, I see the fucker is sitting right underneath the damn sign. “Really, man? I tell you this is the corner of euthanasia and animal cruelty and you just hang out here and wait for the inevitable?” He nudges my free hand, and I feel icicles under his matted black beard. “You damn fool, don’t you know how to get warm?” I ask, forcing myself to give him a pat. Let’s face it, he deserves it. Big lug listened and all.
“You’ll freeze your damn balls off, Muttley.” He walks around me, and I see Floyd all fucking smiling at me. I shit you not. I wish I was imagining this, but I’m not. That is one happy bitch. “Whatever, Floyd,” I sigh out. “Lead the way.” When we make our way back, Muttley—I mean, the fucking dog—sits right under the corner sign. That fucker is dedicated, but stupid as hell. He’s also really fucking friendly and listens better than Floyd. But that shit doesn’t matter. Not one fucking bit.
Chapter Eight Dinner Livi
AFTER A LONG day’s work, I head straight home. I think working at the hospital full-time was less stressful
than only three days a week. I am close to the families I work with. They all need help and guidance when facing health crises, and I can’t bring myself not to check on them after they have left the hospital, even though I know I have given them all the resources they will need. I message Hendrix that I will be in to work at the bar as soon as I can, and he responds that he will be home in a couple of hours with dinner and to just relax. It’s like he knows exactly what I need all the time. I suppose I’m not that hard to read, though. As soon as I open the door to head up to the apartment, I see Floyd at the door, doing a dance. “Aw … Sweetheart, you need to go, don’t you?” She barrels down past me, nearly knocking me over, and runs to the back door of the garage. I flip on the rest of the overhead lights and see that Hendrix has finished the whelping box. I have no idea how he finds the time to do this since he only started on it two days ago, and he sometimes works twelve hour days. “How does he do all this?’ I wonder out loud. Floyd scratches at the back door. I look through the window that is barred due to the fact that this is Detroit and everything around is basically barred in. Then, when I look closer, I gasp. “He fenced it in?” I immediately grab my phone and dial the bar. “When did you have time to do all this?” I ask when Hendrix answers. He laughs. “Liv, when you work, you sleep a whole hell of a lot more than I do. Do you think the box is suitable?” “I haven’t check it out. She’s at the back door. You fenced it in?” “Gotta do more. Ground’s frozen so the poles need to be set, but it’s good enough for pups … for now,
anyway.” “So, can I let her out? She really has to pee.” “Yeah, babe, you can.” As soon as I open the door, she jets out, walks the perimeter, and then squats. “She loves it!” I laugh. “I love it. We love you!” “Well, that’s good because the feeling is mutual.” “How long has this been done?” I ask as I step out. “Just finished it today. Had some time on my hands. We were slow, so Sally covered for me.” “It’s perfect. They are going to be so happy. I think we could fit a hundred pups back—” “Hold up, Liv. You do know, when those things are born, we need to look for homes for them.” When I don’t say anything, he asks, “Liv?” “I hate taking them away from her,” I whisper my worry. “I know, babe, but it’s part of life. Not feasible that we can take on caring for the baby we have on its way to us and all them pups.” I feel emotions heighten. “I know.” “We’ll get through it.” After a couple moments of silence, I realize I’m being ridiculous. “Don’t bring home dinner. I’m gonna cook tonight,” I tell him. “Liv, seriously, it’s cool,” he says. “Can I cook for my husband?” I nearly snap at him, and immediately regret it. “Livi …” he says quietly. “I love you, okay? I want to cook, so just—” “Okay, babe, okay.”
WHEN HE COMES home, I am just taking the shepherd’s pie out of the oven.
He walks up behind me, wraps his arms around me, and kisses my neck. “You made pie?” I nod. “I used your mom’s recipe I found at the bar.” “Love that dish,” he says, rubbing my shoulders. “I heard you mention that before. I hope I did it justice.” “I’m sure you did.” He nods at the dining area. We sit down at the table that is rarely used because we are so incredibly busy. He even lights a candle and pulls out the chair for me. “I was bitchy,” I say at the same time he says, “I know I was harsh.”
We both laugh, and whatever tension filled the air dissolves. “I’m sorry,” I tell him as he pulls his chair next to mine and sits sideways, facing me. “You are so beautiful,” slips out of my mouth. He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Well, than—” I cover his lips with my hand. “I don’t know who I would be without you.” He takes my hand and kisses it. “I’m glad. I feel the same.” “If you want me to quit my job—” “Don’t. You love what you do. You’re good at it. You help all those people, Liv. It makes you who you are and who you are, Livi, makes me a better person. So, don’t.” “But I thought—” “No, Liv.” He leans in and kisses me then sits back and crosses his arm “But—” “Liv, we aren’t keeping all the pups.” I want to be pissed at him, I do, but I laugh. “Unreal.” “Babe …” He chuckles, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees. Then he reaches out for my hands. “Hormones.” “Right.” I nod, looking back at the pie. “Hungry?” “Sure am.” He looks me up and down. I smirk. “What?” he asks. “Sex and rock and roll.” He winks. “That’s for dessert.”
Chapter Nine You Have Got To Be Kidding Me Hendrix
WIPING DOWN THE bar, I’m distracted as hell as I think about last night.
Liv and I have sex … a lot. It’s hot as hell, all the time. And I love my wife, all the time. But last night was the first time in forever that, while sinking into her, I saw her and me in her eyes, and not two people who had to try so fucking hard to get through a day. The thought doesn’t scare me, although it’s totally foreign. I want to run to it, and not away. She is my best friend, my lover. She is everything that is good in me, and she is driving away every ounce of hate that made me bad. Last night while making love to my wife, I saw one person, and that person’s name was us. The phone rings, distracting me “Caldwell’s Bar,” I answer. “Is this Hendrix Caldwell?” “Yes.” “This is Southside Animal Clinic; your dog’s surgery went well—” “Hold up,” I interrupt. “I dropped him off at Sunnyside Animal Clinic this morning when the damn fool followed me to work hoping they’d find him a home.” “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t hear you with all the barking. But your dog’s surgery went well, and he’s ready to be picked up. We close in an hour. What time can you be here?” “No, that’s not my damn dog. It was a stray. I told the woman at the desk that the damn fool follows me around and he’s gonna freeze to death, and he needed to be snipped.” “The dogs come from the clinic here to be spayed and neutered. You need to pick him up and pay the bill.” “It’s not my … dog.” I hold back the “fucking dog” part. “You can’t just leave him here. He just had surgery.” “I never said I was picking him up. He’s. Not. Mine.”
“Mr. Caldwell, I wouldn’t want to have to sue you for the bill—” “I’ll pay the damn bill,” I grumble. “But he’s not my dog.” “Good. We’ll see you within the hour.” She hangs up. “You have got to be fucking kidding me?” I say as I slam the receiver down. “Everything okay?” Sally our full time bar tender asks. “No. No, it’s fucking not okay,” I grumble, looking for something to kick. “Do you need to leave?” she asks. “It’s fucking lunchtime—” “I can handle it.” “Fuck!” I don’t want her to handle it. I don’t want to pick that damn dog up! I hear a laugh and look toward the door. Jared. I point at him. “You.” “Me?” he asks, looking around. “Cover this fucking bar, Sally. You got lunch.” I point at Jared. “Caldwell, I am not an employee of this establishment,” he says, pointing back at me. “You basically live here.” I toss him a bar mop. “You’ll do fine.” I grab my keys and coat, and then head toward the door. “Come on, Jared,” Sally says in that soothing, motherly voice. “We can do this.” “I’m not doing shit,” he mumbles. “You wouldn’t leave a lady in distress, would you?” she jokes “I’ve left them in worse situations,” he comments.
I WALK INTO the Southside Animal Clinic, which I had to google directions to. The place is a shithole. It
reeks of disinfectant, trying to cover up the smell of shit, and it’s not working. The girl at the desk with a ponytail looks up at me. “Name?” “Caldwell,” I grit out. “Right, you’re the last one to pick up,” she snarks out. “Look, I didn’t bring him here to begin with. I dropped him off at Sunnyside Animal Clinic. He’s a stray. A mutt. He’s—” “They bring all their animals here to be spayed and neutered.”
“They didn’t tell me that.” She holds up the piece of paper I filled out when I dropped him off at the other clinic. “This your signature?” “Yeah, I brought in a stray because the damn thing was freezing. I’ll pay for the surgery, but he’s not my dog.” “It’s a shame he went through all that just to get euthanized.” I don’t say shit. I’m not keeping the damn dog. She pushes the bill forward, and I look at it. “Three hundred dollars?” I ask. “Euthanasia is expensive,” she says, sitting back. “I didn’t—” “And painful,” she interrupts. “Listen, lady,” I start, stopping when the doors behind her open and out walks Muttley with a fucking lamp shade on his head. “Take him back. His owner want’s him euthanized,” the lady tells the vet. “I’m not his damn owner,” I snap at her. “That’s too bad. He’s such a nice dog,” the vet remarks. “Then why don’t you try to find him a home?” I suggest. “Too many out there to try to save them all.” Muttley leans against her leg. “Aw … Poor guy, you’re tired,” she pets him. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I grumble.
“YOU SHOULD HAVE had them check you out; see if you were knocked up, too.” Jared laughs at me from the
other side of the bar. “Shit’s not funny. Not funny at all.” I say then look down and see Muttley passed out at my feet. “I’m funny.” Jared shrugs then takes a drink. “You’re an asshole.” He nods. “I know.” When the door opens, I look up. “Shit,” I grumble under my breath. “You’re so fucked,” Jared says, almost smiling. I walk around the bar and meet her before she sees what the fuck I have going on.
“Liv, what are you doing here?” I ask, giving her a kiss, and then kissing the belly. “Missed you,” she whispers, looking down. I lift her chin and smile. “Felt the same way all damn day.” Yep, I have a vagina. “Really?” She smiles. “Things went down really good last night, Livi. Like, really good.” When I lean in to kiss her, I hear a bark. “Dead dog walking,” Jared comments from behind me. “Was that—” I grab her face. “Baby, a miracle happened today.” She looks adorably confused. “Now, it’s a long fucking story, but no, we can’t keep him. Yes, we’ll find him a home. And … I fucking love you.”
Epilogue
Livi
I’M OUTSIDE WITH Floyd and Muttley, playing in the fenced-in yard.
I begged to change his name, but we aren’t keeping him. He’s only here until his new owner, Kid, gets through some shit, as Hendrix says. He is such a good dog, and he adores Hendrix. Looks at him like he saved his life, and I understand that feeling. I hadn’t realized how bad my life actually was until I met him. I was living for everyone else, which got me through, so that was a good thing. Helping others is never a bad thing. It keeps hope alive. Now, I’m living and loving, and every struggle I ever endured brought me right here. As I watch Floyd and Muttley tease each other and how they interact, I am seeing the same in her. She is so happy now. Well, until he sniffs her butt for too long, and then she snaps at him. Hendrix is right; she is kind of a bitch, but she’s our bitch. And right now, she is so happy. “Okay, you three, get in here. It’s bedtime,” Hendrix calls from behind me. “Just a couple more minutes?” I ask as Muttley flies past me and comes to a screeching halt right at his feet. “Look, Mutt”—he squats down and scratches behind Muttley’s ear—“you’ve got some issues, you know. I mean, I stop too quick, and your nose is in my ass, and I’m the one who had your balls snipped.” He stands up and holds his hand out. “Bedtime?” I take his hand, yawning. “Yeah.” As we walk toward the whelping crate, he points, and Muttley walks right in and lies down, but Floyd follows us. Hendrix opens the door, and Floyd skates past him. “Floyd, what the hell are you doing?” “She’s probably sick of him sniffing her backside.” I laugh. “Then he’s doing it wrong.” He winks. “You’re really going to leave him down here by himself?” “Yes, I am.” “But—”
“Livi, he thinks he’s living the lap of luxury compared to where he came from.” I want to argue for Muttley, but when I look back, he looks as happy as can be. “Fine,” I grumble. “Fine sucks, Liv.” “Okay, well …” I shrug. “Wonderful?” He chuckles.
I WAKE TO panting and the bed shaking a bit. I open my eyes to see Floyd is lying on the bed, eyes wide
open. She looks nervous. “Is today the day, girl?” I ask, reaching over to pet her. She growls. “Aw … Floyd, it’s gonna be okay.” I get out of bed, careful not to bounce her around too much, and grab my phone. “Hendrix, you busy?” I ask when he answers. “Little bit. Sally is running late; something about one of the kids. Why? What’s going on? You okay?” “I’m fine, but I’m pretty sure Floyd’s getting ready to go into labor.” I walk out to the kitchen and get her favorite toy, a blue squeaky whale. It’s the only toy she has yet to take the squeaky out of and destroy. “Get the whale. If she is in labor, she won’t play with it,” he says, and I laugh. “Liv, she loves that—” “I have it in my hand.” “She in the box?” “Um …” “Liv, she needs to get in that damn thing.” “Okay,” I tell him as I walk in and squeak the toy. “She in the kitchen?” he asks. “Almost,” I say, setting the toy next to her. She doesn’t budge. “Liv, is she on our bed?” I don’t answer. “Fuck!” “It’ll be fine. Maybe she’s just tired,” I say, knowing it’s not true. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” “These things can take hours. I’m sure she’s fine,” I assure him.
Hendrix
“FUCKING DOG,” I grumble as I hold Livi’s back to my chest, Muttley at my heel, looking down at our bed.
“She did so good,” Livi croons. “I suppose.” I try not to give Floyd too much damn credit. She ruined my fucking bed. “Look at how tiny they are,” she says, squeezing my forearm. “Four little balls of fur.” “Muttley, you’re a daddy.” Livi smiles and pets his head. “Except Floyd doesn’t seem to want him to get too close. You better not pull that shit on me,” I joke. “Never,” she says, looking up at me. I kiss the top of her head then take a step back, grabbing the bag of ruined linens as I sigh. “Come on, old man; visiting hours are over,” I tell Muttley. “You get to go downstairs to your fucking castle while she gets sucked raw.” Livi laughs as she kneels next to the bed. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t mind.” My wife, she’s fucking crazy beautiful.
THANK YOU for reading this little addition to the Hendrix and Livi’s love story.
All three Caldwell Brothers have a stand-alone novel in the USA Today bestselling series, the Caldwell Brothers available online wherever e-books are sold. Available Now Hendrix Morrison And Jagger March 21st Use Me (A Caldwell Brothers Book) Is available for preorder everywhere.
About The Authors
About MJ Fields
USA Today bestselling author MJ Fields write books that scorch pages and melt hearts. Her style is raw, gritty and authentic. Love an alpha and a strong heroine? She does too. Join MJ's mailing list Visit her website here Stalk her Facebook here Follow her on Twitter here Follow her on Instagram here
Other Books The Men of Steel Series Forever Steel Jase Jase and Carly Cyrus Zandor Xavier Momma Joe The Ties of Steel Series Abe Dominic Eroe Sabato The Rockers of Steel Series
Memphis Black (Memphis and Tallia) Finn Beckett (Finn and Sonia) River James (River and Kianna) Billy Jeffers (Billy and Madison) LRAH Legacy Series (These families’ stories are intertwined starting with The Love series, they move to the Wrapped Series, the Burning Souls series, and end in Love You Anyways. Many more series will spin off from these characters already written and each will be a standalone series but for those of us who love a story to continue I recommend reading in this order. The Love Series (Must Be Read In This Order) Blue Love New Love Sad Love True Love The Wrapped Series Wrapped In Silk Wrapped In Armor Wrapped In Always and Forever Burning Souls Series Stained Forged Merged LRAH Legacy Additions Love You Anyway Love Notes The Truth About Love Series 27 Truths (Ava’s Story) 27 Lies (Luke’s Story) The Norfolk Series
Irons (Jaxson and Frankie, book 1) Shadows (Shadows and Mary, book 2) Titan (Coming 2017) UnSocial Daters Club: Matched Duet Match This! ImPerfectly Matched! Published with Loveswept/Penguin Random House The Caldwell Brothers Series (co-written w/ Chelsea Camaron) Hendrix Morrison Jagger Standalones Visibly Broken (co-written w/ Chelsea Camaron) Offensive Rebound
About Chelsea Camaron
USA Today bestselling author Chelsea Camaron is a small town Carolina girl with a big imagination. She’s a wife and mom, chasing her dreams. She writes contemporary romance, erotic suspense, and psychological thrillers. She loves to write about blue-collar men who have real problems with a fictional twist. From mechanics to bikers to oil riggers to smokejumpers, bar owners, and beyond she loves a strong hero who works hard and plays harder. Chelsea can be found on social media at Facebook Twitter: @chelseacamaron
Instagram: @chelseacamaron Website Email
[email protected] Other works by Chelsea Camaron Love and Repair Series: Crash and Burn Restore My Heart Salvaged Full Throttle Beyond Repair Stalled Box Set Available Hellions Ride Series: One Ride Forever Ride Merciless Ride Eternal Ride Innocent Ride Simple Ride Heated Ride Ride with Me (Hellions MC and Ravage MC Duel with Ryan Michele) Originals Ride Final Ride Roughneck Series: Maverick Heath Lance Box Set Available Stand Alone Thriller – Stay
Stand Alone Short Romance – Serving My Soldier Mother Trucker Devil’s Due MC Series: Crossover In The Red Below The Line The following series are co-written The Fire Inside Series: (co-written by Theresa Marguerite Hewitt) Kale Regulators MC Series: (co-written by Jessie Lane) Ice Hammer Summer of Sin Series Original Sin (co-written with Ripp Baker, Daryl Banner, Angelica Chase, MJ Fields, MX King) Caldwell Brothers Series (co-written by USA Today Bestselling Author MJ Fields) Hendrix Morrison Jagger Stand Alone Romance – co-written with MJ Fields Visibly Broken Ruthless Rebels MC Series – co-written with Ryan Michele) Shamed Scorned Scarred Schooled
Yes, Yes, Yes
by Nicola Rendell
SHE’S GORGEOUS, BUT you might not know she’s one in ten million just to look at her. I know it, though. No
doubt at all. She’s sitting across from me at the tasting table. She’s in her early thirties, with long, pretty, dark hair in curls down her shoulders. She does this thing when she’s thinking, biting the edge of her lower lip. Fucking kills me. Dark blue eyes struck through with lines of black. She’s always sexy. Today, though, she’s really got my number: a tweed skirt, tights, brown boots hitting just below her knees, and a navy shirt with small white buttons… And the third one down has just now, right before my eyes, come undone. Goddamn. But I focus on her face. I won’t be distracted, not today, not now. Because we’ve got serious business to do. Even more serious than how badly I want her. And that is really saying something. On the table between us sits a row of chocolate truffles. She’s tasted the two on the right already. The far right, she gave a seven. The center one, an eight. I’ve never had her give a chocolate a nine. But so help me God, I will make a chocolate that will get this woman to say the word, Ten. I don’t care if it bankrupts me. I will do it. I will. Now she takes the third truffle in her slender fingers and brings it to her mouth. A fine dusting of cocoa sprinkles down off the sides and lands on the immaculate white table. She cracks the hard shell with her teeth and takes a bite. Then she closes her eyes and shifts in her chair, bending slightly at the waist. Which is when her shirt comes open, revealing parts of her I have never seen, only imagined. Because I’ve fantasized about taking her every single fucking way I can but never had her. Never even a taste. At first, I can’t look away. I can’t force my eyes away from what I’m seeing, which is this perfect pair of breasts, nestled close together to make an absolutely gorgeous line of cleavage. And fuck me, there’s the edge of her bra. Lacy and light purple. I make myself blink, slowly and with enough force to see flashes behind my eyes. Goddamn it. When I open my eyes, I make sure they’re on her mouth, where they’re supposed to be. And damn, do I love that mouth. Her eyes are closed, and she’s chewing slowly, savoring. The look on her face is pure bliss, but I’m not fooled. Not until she opens her eyes and swallows will I know the verdict. Only then will I know if we’ve done it, finally, or whether it’s back to the damned drawing board. Her chewing slows, and she moans a little. Jesus. Outside, there’s a rumble of thunder, but I hardly notice. I’m mesmerized by the rise and fall of her breasts and the sound of her breathing. I’m not going to lie: Seeing her is the only thing I don’t have to put in my calendar. I actually count the days between the times I see her. She’s got me absolutely whipped, and I’ve never even kissed her. I love every sound she makes, every damned word she says. The quick breaths, the short ones, and the way she laughs softly through her nose. The thinking breath when she’s deciding if a chocolate is too bitter or too sweet. The way she flirts, just a little, without even meaning to, between tastes. And I know that
when she likes a chocolate—really likes it—her breathing gets deeper. That’s what I’m listening for now. That deep, sexy, beautiful breath that says, “Yes, yes, yes.” She crosses one leg over the other, and I listen to her tights, sliding between her thighs. She’s might be a paid consultant, but that mouth owns me. That mouth will make or break me. She isn’t ordinary. About one in ten million people have what it takes to be a professional taster. They’ve all got specialties. Wine, cheese, coffee. I once met one who worked at Kraft and had devoted his whole career to the hunt for the perfect synthetic taste of grape. Her specialty is chocolate. Her name is Laura, she’s got freckles on her nose, and I’m so fucking in love with her mouth… I can’t even tell you. For the last three generations, my family has been making those awful goddamned chocolates that you can buy in every CVS, Rite Aid, and Osco on the planet. You know the ones. White box, always kind of disappointing? Sometimes weirdly melted into their plastic tray? Too much strawberry cream filling and never enough of the ones you actually want? Right. Those. But I’ve had it. I’ve had it with cheap chocolate and sub-par nougat. Had it. My name is Thomas Ruskin and I’m going into the serious chocolate business. Except I can’t do it without her and her beautiful mouth. “How is it?” I ask. I’m actually hanging on to the side to the table, white knuckling, like I’m one of those contestants on Top Chef, about to find out if my whatever-the-hell soufflé is edible or not. Only in this episode, it’s a dark chocolate truffle with a hint of saffron. Shade-grown cocoa from a remote corner of Mexico, where only miniature goats nibble on the leaves and only virgins touch the beans. Fine, not really. But almost. Because like I said, we’re going fancy. Go fancy or go the fuck home. She keeps chewing. Doesn’t say a word but just holds up a finger to tell me to wait. When she does, it makes her shirt shift a little so I see the curve of her breasts better. Christ. The thing is, every single moment I spend with her I fall a little harder. She has this presence—this beauty, this confidence—that I find incredibly addictive. But as much as I’ve thought about saying, Let me take you to dinner, let me treat you like you should be treated, like you’ve never been treated before, I only ever see her here, in the tasting room. It’s here I first met her, months ago, when she came in and tasted our existing line. Patiently, one by one, bite by bite, she sampled the entire pathetic tray of our Chocolate Lover’s Sampler Selection. Verdict? Pretty much awful. The thing is, I couldn’t taste it and still can’t. I’ve been eating cheap cashew clusters since I was old enough to make grabbing gestures with my hands. I’ve been eating drippy cherry cordials for as long as I’ve been able to eat anything at all. My tasting genes are busted. I taste a vanilla cream? Fine. Caramel center? Fine. Solid dark? Fine. It just doesn’t make sense to me. It’s all just pretty much fine. But I know
that for the rest of the world, chocolate is like sex. It’s all pretty good, but some of it will put you on a different planet. That’s why I brought her in. Fresh blood. A mouth in ten million. Someone who knows her business. And people listen to her. She’s got a blog that gets a hundred thousand hits a month. Chocolate Stars, it’s called. Of course it is. Rumor has it that when she makes an endorsement you’d better have your IT guys on hand, because a word from her can break the internet. When she loves a cupcake or a chocolate or some obscure gelato, it’s like cocoa powder from heaven falling down all over the bottom line. She’s still working on truffle number three. She doesn’t usually take this long, not unless she’s trying to think of a nice way to say, “What is wrong with you people?” We’ve sunk so much time and effort into the truffle she’s holding that it’s got actual gold dust on top. It’s the kind of chocolate that could launch us into chocolate superstardom. The kind of chocolate people might line up for, might wait for, might place advanced orders for and make hashtags about. That’s the idea. Goodbye, bottom shelf at the drug store. Hello, specialty shop on Fifth Avenue. Maybe. I can see she’s sort of moving her tongue around in her mouth, the way people do with wine. Finally, fucking finally, she swallows, and her eyes pop open. Right on cue there’s a crack of thunder. Her eyes widen. She starts to smile. The lights overhead brighten and buzz a little louder. And then everything goes dark.
“THOMAS?” SHE SAYS.
It’s the first time she’s called me that. Always, always she calls me Mr. Ruskin, no matter how many times I tell her it’s Thomas, just Thomas. Except now with the lights out, it feels like something’s changed. She’s standing close to me, so close I can feel the heat from her body inches from mine. “Laura.” “We’re stuck in here, aren’t we?” It’s a damned good question. We’ve managed to make our way over to the door, pawing through the dark. Her sleeve brushes against mine as I lift my hand to swipe the key card. No dice. “I think we might be.” She makes a little sound, like she’s uncomfortable, or worried. “I’m sure they’ll have us out of here in no time flat.” I jiggle the doorknob side to side, the metal of the knob clacking against the unmoving lock. But there’s the breath that says she’s surprised. “No, no, it’s just… do you always wear cologne?” I stop jiggling the knob and turn towards the dark space where I know she’s standing, just to my left. I
hope, fucking pray, that she’s nibbling on her lip. I need her to be doing that for me, so goddamned badly. “Yeah.” A deeper breath, through her nose. “I’ve never noticed it before. I’m usually so focused on the chocolates.” I suddenly become acutely aware of my Armani in a way I never have been before in my life. Is it too much? Do I smell like a gigolo? Like I just got attacked at the cologne counter at the mall? Christ. What if that gene is broken too? It’d figure. If I can’t taste for shit, I probably can’t smell for shit either. I start to take a step back, but as I do, she touches my forearm. I freeze. Her cool fingers grip me harder. “It smells good on you.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “Really good.” Fuck. Me. But as is the way with really sexy moments that could turn into something incredible, we are suddenly interrupted by the sound of Sandy, my secretary, on the other side of the door saying, “Mr. Ruskin! Bad news.” She always sounds like she has her fingers to her nose, like she’s pinching her nostrils to make a crank call. Laura’s grip tightens a little more, and I feel that need for her starting to come unleashed. “What’s that, Sandy?” I ask. My voice sounds raspy. I sound like I just got up, my words all thick and dark, because I can’t help myself. She touched me first; she flipped the switch. I lean into her a little, and she presses back into me. I place my hand at the small of her back, gently at first, and pull her closer, so close her breasts push up against my chest, and in my head I imagine what I can’t see—that skin, that bra, that face. Through the thin wool of my suit pants, I get a sense of how warm her body is. “Seems like the locks won’t work until the power comes back on. Could be hours!” Sandy answers. “Are you two okay in there?” This goddamned factory. All that trouble to make a secure tasting room and the doors won’t unlock in an emergency? Completely half-assed. But on the other hand… Laura’s breath gets caught up in her throat. A little laugh comes out. She places her palm to my chest, and grips the fabric of my shirt in her fist. God, yes. “Are we okay?” I say into her ear, breathing her in, really breathing her in, for the very first time. She’s almond and vanilla and every good thing on the planet. She doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, I feel her breasts rise and fall; her body presses against mine. “What do you want, beautiful? Tell me.” Another rise. Another fall. And then she says, “Take me, right here. Right now.” Hell yes.
I take her face in my hands, feeling the soft skin of her cheek against my stubble. Under the heel of my palm I can actually feel her pulse pounding away. “We’re fine, Sandy,” I say, and then sink into a kiss. That mouth. That perfect mouth. The harder I kiss her, the harder she kisses back. I dip deep into her with my tongue, and she lets me, but then does the same to me. Still locked in a kiss, we both go for the other’s clothes—she to my belt, me to her shirt. With both our hands between us, I’m forced to pull away. “You know you’re missing a button,” I tell her as I undo them for her, so much smaller and finer than any of mine. Off comes my belt, and her fingers work their way down my fly. “I felt it happen. I knew you were staring. And I loved it.” “Vixen.” I am painfully hard now, all those months of desire now centered deep in my cock. I pull her skirt up and then hook my fingers over the tops of her scratchy wool tights, which I yank down her thighs. Then I take one hip in each hand, those perfect hips, fuck me, and flip her around, walking her forward. Her steps are small and unsure as we make our way through the dark, her knees bound together by her tights. “Tell me what you want,” I say as I bend her down over the tasting table. “Everything you’ve got.” “Careful what you wish for.” “I don’t want to be careful.” Shiiiiiit. I enter her in one thrust because she’s soaked already, but so fucking tight. “Jesus Christ.” She lets out this low growl, a deep, greedy noise I’ve never heard her make before. Deep inside her, throbbing already, I lean down and cover the curve of her back with my chest. Into her ear, I whisper, “Silent. You got it? Not a fucking sound.” I feel her smile; her cheeks shift upward. Then she nods against my jaw, and her hand clasps mine. I straighten up and knead my palms into her ass. I pull out of her just a little, as much as I can stand, and then I give her a really good thrust. In response, the table screeches as it slides across the floor. Fucker. I hear her laugh a little, and then she dissolves into a hushed groan as I hit her cervix. But it’s not enough: The way I want to take this woman, this table will be screeching its way right across the room. It’d be so obvious I’m having my way with her, the whole company would know, right down to the security guard outside. “Down,” I whisper, and take off my shirt and lay it out on the floor for her. I guide her down and make sure she lies on top of it. No way is this perfect woman lying on the goddamned bare linoleum when I fuck her for the first time. As her legs part for me, I hear a thread or two snap in the tights that are still wrapped around her knees. Hell yes. I want her undone. I want her unraveled. But as much as I want to drive into her again, fuck her like an animal in heat, I also want to taste her. I
need to taste her. I need to know her from the inside out. I get on my knees between her legs. I reach up and take one of her breasts from her bra and feel the tightness of her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. She gasps as I pinch a little. While I’ve got her distracted, I go for her with my mouth, and that’s when I taste her. She’s sweet, and dark, and salty. She’s soaked, and the smell of her makes me feel completely fucking high. I suck on her clit, drawing it into my mouth as far as it’ll go while I pinch her nipple. The small of her back comes up off the ground, and her knees grip the sides of my head. Using my tongue, I open her up, tasting her, feeling her. The ripples of her skin, the smoothness, the softness, the utter perfection. If I could, I’d stay here all damned day. The way she responds to every single flicker of my tongue is killing me. The way she grips my hair when I hit the perfect spot? Yeah, that. But we’ve got a power outage to outrun. Tasting her as she comes is going to have to wait for another day. Or maybe later tonight. I take my mouth away from her, and immediately she starts pawing for my cock. “Inside. Right now.” “That’s what I’m talking about.” I get up on my knees again. I press her thighs back a little, bending her knees towards her chest. She circles my cock with her palm and starts stroking me. She wets her hand a little on her own pussy and fists me harder. “You’re huge, Thomas. Just huge.” Christ. That mouth really does own me. Sweetest words from the sweetest place. She’s still got her tights on, but it makes no fucking difference. I slide my head underneath them, and like we were made for each other, her legs hook together around my body. “I’m going to fuck you until you come, Laura. You got me?” That groan again. “Yes, please.” I position myself at her opening. “Until you forget your name. Until you forget where you are.” Again I thrust into her, this time even deeper and more aggressively. Her body bucks back against the floor, and she moans on the inhale. Her hands link together behind my head, pulling my mouth down to hers. She tastes so fucking sweet. I dig my knees into the cold floor, bones grinding. I don’t feel a thing. Just her around me. The way she pulses, the way she grips my cock. The way my balls nestle against her ass. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Her tongue moves up along the edge of my ear. “And you think I haven’t?” That desire is so fucking beautiful. “I’ll give it to you. As often as you can handle. And then some.” “Shit,” she whispers. “Shit, shit, shit.” “I want you in my bed. I want you on my couch. I want you on my goddamned living room rug, Laura. You have to know that.” I place my hand behind her head, cradling it, making sure she’s comfortable. I run my thumb down the edge of her cheek. “I just wish I could see you.” “I want to see your eyes when you…” She loses her words as I drive deep into her, so deep that her free hand slaps down on the floor. “When I what?” I settle into a rhythm.
“When you come.” Again and again I plunge into her. I get to know new sounds. The one she makes when I’m hurting her a little. The one she makes when she wants more. They are hardly sounds at all because she’s being quiet, but everything is amplified in here in the dark. Her skin becomes the smoothest I’ve ever felt. Her pussy, the wettest. Her tits, the most perfect. Every fantasy I’ve ever had falls away, and gets replaced by this body, this perfect woman, who I can’t see but only feel. In the dark, everything becomes her—every movement, every throb. In the dark, it’s like we turn into one thing. “Fuck the five senses. All I need is you.” “Oh, my God.” I take her hand and draw two of her fingers into my mouth, wetting them, and then I say, “Touch yourself. Come for me.” “I’m too noisy,” she whispers back. What I wouldn’t give to take her to the beach house and have her scream so loud the Coast Guard comes knocking. Soon, though. Soon. Right now, it’s different. This is just the start. “Next time, yeah. But this time, silent. Can you do that?” I hear her swallow. Her pussy tightens around my cock. “Can you?” “Will you put your hand over my mouth when I come?” she asks, and her palm slides down between us. “Just to be safe?” For. Fuck’s. Sake. “Hell yes, I will.” As soon as she starts touching herself, everything intensifies around my cock. There’s a thrumming through my balls, an almost electrified buzz. “Jesus,” I whisper into the dark. The back of her palm gets pressed against my lower abs as I plunge into her. She whimpers a little. I want to kiss her so badly, but I’m too big, too far above her, and now she’s pressing her forehead hard into my shoulder and whimpering a little more. Her other hand finds its way to my ass and squeezes. Again, the whimper. Her hand speeds up on her clit, and the noise of her wetness, that lurid, perfect sound, gets louder than our breathing. The rhythm shifts and changes. Her fingers come down on either side of my cock as she works herself with the heel of her hand, tightening and loosening, drawing that orgasm out. “Why the hell haven’t we done this before, Thomas?” “Because you’re a gentleman.” “Not anymore, I’m not.” As she works on herself, I focus on her G-spot. That shit exists, most definitely. I know when I’ve found it because she actually bites down on my shoulder. I keep my cock steady for her for a second, keeping the pressure right where she needs it.
Then she starts this shiver as I fuck her deeper. It starts in her abdomen, like a little tremor, and her thighs begin to shake. “Now,” she says. Gently, I place my palm to her mouth, to those perfect lips. That perfect face. She kisses my hand, just a little, like she’s giving me permission to hold her down harder, to be a little less polite. Tighter. Deeper. Stronger. The hot breath from her nose spills down over the Y of my hand, warming the skin between thumb and first finger. Again and again I drive into her as she gets herself closer and closer. Under my fingertips, I feel the sharp edge of her jawbone and grip it tight. I pull her head off to one side and lean into her close. “You gonna come for me now, beautiful? Or do you want us to get caught?” The noise is like a tiny sob, and I muffle her cries even more. Her thighs scissor me so hard, she’s damn near pushing me out. But no way am I letting that happen. I give it to her again, and again. Then the shiver takes over. And there she goes. “There. Just like that. Give it to me. Give me what’s mine. Right fucking now.” That’s when the screaming starts, this passionate release into my hand as she loses herself to me completely. “Shhh, shhh, shhh,” I whisper into her ear, soft as I can. She nods into my hand and sobs again, swallowing the scream. Her hand flutters one last time against her clit, more gently now. I fuck her all the way through it. It’s like she’s possessed, overtaken, undone. It’s fucking beautiful. As she’s on the comedown, whimpering less, sobbing into my palm no longer, I say, “It’s a good thing I’m already on my knees. I’ve never felt anything like that.” I take my hand from her mouth, and she buries her forehead against my chest. “Did I scream?” “Don’t you remember?” I feel her shake her head. “It’s like a blackout. I go to a different universe.” I need this woman. Permanently. “You tried to scream.” “But you stopped me?” “Hell yes, I did.” She laughs that soft, breathy laugh I love, and thighs shake against my hips. Her fingers make their way down my neck, and then she drags her fingernails along my spine. “Now you.” I take a long, slow dive into her, feeling the new wetness that’s spilling from her body, the wave that spilled from her as she came. “And don’t be shy, Mr. Ruskin,” she says, her sass cutting right through the dark. “I can take it.” Holy hell. I fuck her so hard that my balls ache and my thighs burn. My cock throbs, and all I can think is, How can anyone be so fucking perfect? Before the orgasm starts, right about the time I feel some precum spill from me, I tighten my hand around her neck just a little, because she can’t see me but I need her to know I’m dead serious. “You give this to me once, I’m never going to be able to stop. Ever. You let me come inside you this time, I’m a fucking goner for good.”
Thrust. Pound. Drive. And wait. Because she hasn’t answered. Fuck. “Say the word and I’ll pull out…” “Don’t you dare, Thomas. Don’t you dare.” Well…that’s that, holy shit. With another drive, I’m gone inside her, filling her up with all those months of need. My orgasm comes in three huge waves, and as I pump myself into her, she brings her lips to my ear and gives me that noise that she makes when something hits her sweet spot. Goddamn. I realize that I’ve been living for that sound. Every penny in research and development, every nightly fantasy. For that. For this. For that purr, that moan, that yes, yes, yes.
THE LIGHTS POP back on, and I get my first look at her nakedness. She scrambles for her clothes, but I’m
frozen. She is perfection. Fuck fantasies. This woman is it. “Shouldn’t be long before the locks reset now,” says Sandy, outside the door. Laura pulls her panties up, and her tights—a striptease in agonizing reverse. Then she yanks down her tweed skirt, adjusting the lining to smooth it out underneath. I manage, somehow, to snap out of my haze. I grab my shirt and start to button up my pants. She’s got her eyes glued to mine, and I see I’ve smudged her makeup. Nothing will ever be the same for you from here on out. You just got ruined. She’s the one, and you know it. “How was it, by the way?” Sandy says. Shit. She heard us. We’re completely screwed. “How was what?” I call back to her as casually as I can manage. Laura takes a step forward and starts fastening my shirt buttons while I work on hers. “Truffle three!” says Sandy. Christ. The goddamned chocolate. I completely forgot. Laura’s eyes lift up from my chest and meet mine. There’s that smile. There’s the beauty. The one I know so much better now. The one I need so much more than ever before. I look at the faint rash around her lips from my stubble. I hold her chin steady with my thumb and then
rake it down the length of her throat. Strong and serious. I raise one eyebrow. So? Sandy barks back, “Perfect ten?” Laura blinks, slow and sultry, and finally says, “Yes, yes, yes.”
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Game For Two: A Valentine's Staycation
by Rachel Blaufeld
A FLASH OF PINK streaked past my bed, followed by a puff of white fur. Not wanting to ruin their intended
surprise, I watched through one half-open eye. “Mom.” The sweet voice came on a whisper, and a small finger poked my shoulder. “Mom . . . wake up, wake up.” “Hey, baby.” My voice was still sleepy, my body warm beneath the covers. “I’m not the baby anymore.” Six-year-old Darla ran a hand over my slightly rounded belly. “I’m the big sister.” She smiled huge, the sight of her two missing front teeth pulling a smile from me as well. “You’re still my baby girl for a few months. Even after the baby comes, you’ll always be my baby girl. Speaking of which, Dar, come close, let me love you up.” I snuggled with her, kissing her forehead and rubbing Eskimo kisses against her freckled, sun-kissed nose. “Mmm, you smell like cinnamon and chocolate.” “We have a surprise for you. Want to know? Do you? Do you?” My crazy little girl hopped off the bed and jumped in a circle on one bare foot. I shook my head. “No, I want to be surprised. That’s the fun of it. But be careful, you’re going to crash into something and stub your toe.” When it came to my husband, Drew, you never knew how grand the surprise was going to be. After all, he won me back after tattooing our six-year-old daughter’s name on his heart, and knocking me up for the second time. “Good, just get comfy. Daddy said to prop you up on the pillows.” Of course, Darla, my strong, beautiful first grader, didn’t bat an eyelash at his demands. She simply relayed the message, then yanked open the blinds, threw open the balcony doors, and set about torturing me with worry by hopping on out there. “Don’t go out, Dar. Stay here.” She had already been fascinated with the ocean before we found Drew, overly curious about everything that inhabited it even before we moved into his coastal McMansion. Now, I worried my pregnant self silly over her trying to get a better look at the wide ocean below. “Mom, seriously?” She hooked a hand on her hip and looked at me with disdain. “I need to pee and then I’ll go out with you, ’kay? We’ll see what’s swimming out there this morning.” “No, you’ll ruin the surprise. Stay there and I’ll sit with you.” Thank God Drew appeared at that moment, a breakfast tray in hand. He gave Darla a nod, and the two of them yelled “Happy Valentine’s Day” in unison. “Looks great. Smells even better.” The room flooded with smells of cinnamon and coffee— decaffeinated, of course—and chocolate. “But I have to use the bathroom, so put a pin in that thought. Both of you.” I eyed my husband and then my daughter, making sure they knew to stick together. As I slid out of bed, my nightshirt rode up my thigh, causing Drew to wink at me.
Memories washed over me. I’d hidden my first pregnancy from him, so our beginning had been a bit rocky. He was my tennis coach in college at the time, and decided to resign his position and leave the college when we were almost caught together by a fellow teammate of mine. It wasn’t until he was gone that I had learned I was pregnant with Darla. With our past safely tucked behind us, we were now equals in every way except in bed. Drew was definitely in charge in the bedroom, and he was taking full advantage of my pregnancy horniness. He was all in this time. All the way in. I ran off to the master bathroom with Calliope the cat following behind me. That fur ball was more like a dog than a kitten. In the background, I could clearly hear the ocean slapping against the shore, and I was pretty certain that Darla had convinced her dad to take her out on the balcony. Of course she had. When I walked back out, the breakfast tray was abandoned on the bed. Darla was standing in front of Drew, her long strawberry-blond hair a wild mess, her pink pajama top slipping off her shoulder, and her hand tucked inside her dad’s larger one. Quickly, I snatched my iPhone off the nightstand and snapped a picture of the two of them from behind. I still didn’t Facebook or tweet or snap or whatever they do these days (a long story for a different day), but I loved keeping an ongoing photo album on my phone. “Mom, get on the bed, prop up on the pillows,” Darla said as she came back inside, every bit as demanding as her dad. She settled the tray on my lap and grabbed the cup of Arnold Palmer iced tea Drew had set out for her. “This isn’t the only surprise we have for you,” she said between sips. I wanted to comb her flyaway hair in the worst way but resisted the temptation, knowing it would only lead to a fight. “Oh yeah.” I played with the diamond J for Jules pendant that nestled in the hollow of my throat, and glanced at the matching D of yellow diamonds that hung from Darla’s neck. “I don’t need a thing. I have you and Dad.” “Have some coffee.” Drew sat next to me and picked up the mug topped with frothed milk. He was in a T-shirt and shorts, no doubt commando. If Darla wasn’t sitting right there, I’d run my hand under his shorts and check. Damn pregnancy hormones. He eyed me up, knowing exactly what I was thinking, and bent close to purr in my ear. “It’s not a thing!” Darla hinted, dancing around our bedroom, her hair wild, her feet even wilder, distracting us from our animal instincts. “Oh yeah?” “Have something to eat,” Drew said, continuing to dote on me. “What’s going on?” Those two were in cahoots, and I knew it. Time for them to come clean. “I’m going to Rosie and Sully’s for the night! They’re going to take me for pizza and maybe a short
ride on the boat, if the weather stays warm. Yes!” she said, drawing out the word as she spun around, still holding her drink, and my husband grinned at me like a fool the whole time. Irritation bubbled up my throat. This was so typical of Drew; he’d been having a hard time controlling himself when it came to spoiling Darla. But this was a bit much. I knew she obsessed over Drew’s friend Sully’s boat, and she loved his wife, Rosie . . . but a sleepover? “I can see your mind churning, and before you get mad, hear me out,” Drew said in a calm voice, which meant I wasn’t going to like what was coming next. “We’re taking a quick staycation of sorts. One night in South Beach, just you and me. It’s only an hour away. It’ll be fun, exactly what we need.” His finger roamed the hem of my nightgown, grazing my thighs as he lobbed me another of his pantymelting winks. His hair had grown a little long again, and he’d been sporting some scruff. Between the beard tickling where it counts (wink, wink) and the crinkles around his eyes, I couldn’t resist this man. Of course, Mr. Smartypants had me cornered. He was a hundred percent certain that I wouldn’t argue with him about this with Darla in the room. “It’ll be the perfect Valentine’s Day. We’ll take my car, open the sunroof to let the breeze in, just the way you love it. Have lunch, get massages, take a nap, have dinner, and partake in a few of our other favorite activities,” he said, waggling his brows at me. “I’ll tire you out, and tomorrow, I’ll even let you have fully leaded coffee. One cup.” He held up a single finger and I countered with two, but he shook his head at my cheap ploy at bargaining. Frowning at Darla, I said, “Are you sure? You’ve never slept at Rosie and Sully’s place. Are you okay with that?” “Mom, I’m fine,” she said, twirling in front of the closed balcony doors. “Rosie even knows how to do my hair the way you like it.” “What about your tennis lesson tomorrow?” Drew leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Already checked with Rosie, and she’s going to take her. She said she’d be honored, and can’t wait to watch Darla play.” “I guess that’s one good thing about you not teaching her anymore,” I said to my husband. “I get to be with you.” He’d been her pro for a short time but she needed objective guidance, so we’d agreed to a new coach. The posh private school he wanted her to attend had been a separate argument—which he’d won. “Mom, can I go watch TV?” I nodded. “Watch the iced tea on the couch.” Before the words were out of my mouth, she ran out, tea in hand, the cat on her heels. Drew gave me a smoldering look. “Fuck the couch. I wanted to steal you for one night, so sue me. We went on the honeymoon together, the three of us—” “Um, that was all your decision to take Darla on our honeymoon, tough guy.” “I know, and it was the best ever, but now I want you.” He leaned close to my ear and whispered,
“Just you.” Thankfully, I was wearing panties under my nightgown. Because at those two words, I gushed a little (and I don’t mean peed my pants). “Okay, let’s pack.” I was ready to go now. One brush of his lips, one hint of his breath across my cheeks, and I was a wilting mess. “Oh, that’s already done. I did that for you last night after you fell asleep.” “You have to stop spoiling me. I’m used to doing things myself. I’m getting lazy and fat.” With a quick shake of his head, he leaned over and kissed me passionately. Not soft or rough, it was just right—closed mouth but intense, with the promise of much, much more later.
TRUE TO HIS word, Drew opened the sunroof as the engine purred to life in his sports car. We cruised over
to South Beach with the ocean air blowing through my hair, my head back against the headrest, my hand on Drew’s thigh. The car ride alone would have been enough. It was positively perfect. When we pulled up in front of a modern and surely very expensive boutique hotel, I knew better than to argue. The circular drive had a fountain in the center, complete with a naked cupid, and the view just beyond was amazing. The ocean lapped the sand in the background, and seagulls flapped and shrieked overhead. It was a fantasy I’d never imagined for myself. “Isn’t this a dream?” Drew asked as he ran around to open my door. A valet emptied the trunk, stacking our overnight bags on a cart. Nodding, I stared up at the tallish building with opalescent windows dotting the facade. I’d never been anywhere like this—not until our family honeymoon in Hawaii. Now luxury was a frequent part of my life. “Come on.” As we stepped inside, the coolness of the air conditioning settled on my neck and the scent of fresh lavender filled my nose. They weren’t wrong when they said sense of smell increased during pregnancy; I might as well have been in a meadow. “King with a king-sized bed,” Drew said to the front-desk clerk. “I have a suite reserved.” I eyed him, mostly because of his cheesy one-liner with his last name, but also his choice of a suite for us over a regular room. Of course. I was already prego with his child for a second time; there wasn’t much more he could do to tie me to him—forever. Pretty much a sure thing now, I didn’t need wooing or winning.
The woman handling the front desk blushed as she hemmed and hawed, handing him a key to the luxury penthouse suite. She explained a million amenities in rapid-fire fashion, including the spa being available to us twenty-one hours a day. “What about in the room?” he asked. “Can we get a massage in the room?” I elbowed Drew. Was this what people did? That was too much, right? I didn’t know—I’d been a college dropout and a single mom for the last several years. Now I was here in Florida, married, and about to spend the night in a luxury penthouse suite. “Absolutely, sir, but . . .” She hesitated for a moment, glancing at my very small baby bump, revealed by my lightweight sweater tight against my stomach. My hand moved protectively over it, shielding him or her from any ill will. “What?” Drew’s voice was tight, telling me he was losing patience, so I slipped my free arm through his elbow and hugged him close, attempting to send him calming juju. “They don’t have a portable pregnancy table, so if you want to lie on your belly, you would need to go to the spa,” she said to me. “Oh, I’ve never heard of those, but thanks.” In my mind, I couldn’t even conjure up what she was talking about. Portable pregnancy table? “Thanks.” Drew turned away, grumbling as he guided me to the elevator. Once inside, he pushed me into the back wall, grinding his pelvis into mine. “Fuck, I couldn’t wait to get you alone.” He smoothed his hand down my hair, gripping most of it in his palm as he guided my head backward, exposing my neck. He ran his tongue along my skin and nipped at my chin, then sealed his mouth to mine, all the while grasping my hair and holding my head in place. Unfortunately, as soon as he stuck his tongue in my mouth, the elevator dinged. “Let’s go.” He gripped my hand and tugged me in front of our suite door in seconds. Winking at me, he slid his key in the door. “Good thing you’re in shape, Mama.” The moment we were inside, I was back against the wall again, Drew’s hand in my hair and his tongue in my mouth. Moaning, I dropped my hand to his ass, squeezing and pulling him closer. I couldn’t get enough. The suite’s doorbell rang, and we were interrupted again. “What does a man have to do to get some alone time with his wife?” Drew muttered under his breath while moving toward the door, giving me a fine view of his ass, firm and tight in dark jeans. When he opened the door, we both stood there like teenagers who’d just been caught fooling around, our mouths all red and lips swollen. “Your luggage, sir,” a bellman said sheepishly. “Thanks, I’ll grab it.” Drew stuffed a ten into the guy’s free hand and grabbed our totes. The door clicked closed as Drew set a bag on one of the luggage stands and tossed the other on the floor. I was ready to start our staycation—when he opened the damn door again. “What now?”
“This, babe. This.” He waggled the DO NOT DISTURB sign in his hand. “Good, now come here. You dragged me here, leaving Dar, so let’s make use of this time.” I settled on the bed with my butt on the edge of the mattress, my feet still squarely set on the floor. “Oh yeah? Lie back.” After kicking off my shoes, I scooted back to the pillows. Drew crawled up after me like a leopard in the wild on one of the animal shows Darla loved to watch. As he rested his weight on his forearm, I ran my hand up his side, underneath his Henley and over his smooth nipple. “I’m insatiable this pregnancy.” “No words make me happier to hear. I can’t tell you what that does to me, Jules. You, me, another baby, and thoughts of me buried deep inside you.” Finally, his mouth was back on mine, his hand woven in my hair, and we made out like teenagers. “I want to take my time, but I can’t.” Drew grabbed the waistband of my leggings and tugged them off. His finger found me, and then another. His thumb strummed my most sensitive spot as his tongue swept over mine. “Drew, I want you.” “You have me.” “All of you, inside me.” I grabbed his shirt and yanked it off of him, our mouths separating briefly so I could pull it all the way off. I kicked at our tangled legs and shoved off his jeans, then took hold of his hard length, glad for the moment that he’d refused any argument on my part to convince him to stop going commando. Within seconds, I was pushed on my back and Drew was hovering over me, then he was deep inside me, slowly moving in and out. My heel traveled up the back of his calf and pressed against his ass, urging him on. “Faster,” I said on a whimper. “You’re not going to break me.” “Shhh. I’m enjoying this, watching myself going in and out. So fucking beautiful.” Our mouths met again, fused together like our hearts had been so long ago. Finally, I dug in my heel hard enough that he picked up speed. His hand came to my sweet spot, grazing where we were connected as he took me there before going over the cliff himself. Sated for the moment, I settled back on the comforter, staring out at the view. I’d never felt so calm or at ease. My head fell to the crook of his neck, and I heard Drew sigh. When our breathing returned to normal, we quietly took in the ocean vista from the floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the length of the bedroom. “We needed this,” I said softly. “How did you know?” “Remember the first night you ever came to my house, and I rubbed your feet after you worked all night?” he asked, and I nodded against his chest. “I said then I wanted to take care of you, and I take that job very seriously. It’s my job to know when you need a break, when you need a respite . . . when you
need me.” His lips met the top of my head and stayed there as he breathed me in. I snuggled closer in his embrace, contemplating how everything had worked out for me. Even when I never believed it would.
I SWATTED AT something tickling my arm. “No, Calliope, not now,” I mumbled, forgetting where I was until
Drew laughed in my ear. “Hey.” He sucked on my earlobe. “No Calliope in sight. It’s just me . . . and this.” When he ground his erection into my rear, I instinctively pressed back against him. “Oh,” I muttered, pushing back harder. His hand moved around front and found my core. “I think I like staycations.” Drew grazed the side of my neck with his, nibbling his way back to my earlobe. “I definitely love staycations. Not that I don’t miss Dar, but this,” he said as he slipped in another finger, “this is heaven.” He brought me to the brink before pulling me up on all fours and taking me from behind. Again, he took his time, working us to a crescendo and then picking up speed until we were free-falling. Breathing heavily, I slumped back in a heap on the bed, my stomach growling and my bladder threatening to burst. “What time is it?” “One. I’m glad you got a little nap.” “Me too, but I don’t want to waste any of this time.” “You’re not.” He winked and smacked my butt. “I have to use the bathroom and shower, but I’m starving. This baby and you are draining everything from me.” “How ’bout I order some room service?” Slipping out of bed, bare from head to toe, I shook my head. “Let’s go outside by the pool. It’s warm, and I haven’t been in a lounge chair in . . . forever. Okay, not true. Since Hawaii.” “I like where your head’s at. Maybe some hot-tub time?” “No can do,” I said on my way to the enormous bathroom. Drew’s cheeseball answer carried after me. “Ugh, screw my dick and his bad, bad ideas.” I should be used to this kind of luxury after living with Drew all these months, but the giant crystal chandelier hanging from the bathroom ceiling amazed me. I couldn’t imagine what it cost, and it was hanging above the toilet. The toilet!
As I sat down, I couldn’t help but continue to stare at it. I was just a girl from Ohio who’d dropped out of college and had a baby, then got my happily-ever-after. After a quick rinse in the shower, I went to grab some clothes and realized I didn’t have a clue what Drew had brought for me. “Um, did you bring me a swimsuit? A one-piece?” I busied myself with tying my hair into a messy knot, and Drew produced my red string bikini. I couldn’t help but frown. “Drew,” I growled. “You’re pregnant, Jules. I want to show off your tiny bump and your tits. There’s no words for what they’ll look like in this suit.” Still frowning, I rummaged through the tote he’d packed for me. Everything else was good—leggings, a black A-line dress, heels, and a few tanks. “Put it on,” Drew ordered. I begrudgingly obliged, wiggling my butt into the suit, all the while being grateful I’d kept up with waxing my bikini line since Hawaii. Securing my enlarged boobs in the tiny triangles was a slight challenge, but Drew was up to helping—of course. When I was done, he let out a long breath. “Fuck, that red looks fan-fucking-tastic with your hair and your—” “Enough about my boobs,” I said, interrupting him. “Spin around. Let me see a three-sixty.” When I spun around for him, he did a long wolf whistle and I stuck out my tongue. This was our thing. He’d tease, and I’d refuse to laugh. “Smoking.” He put his arms around me from behind. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.” I grabbed a long tank and threw it over my suit, then slipped my feet into my sparkly Toms. Drew was quick, dressing in trunks and a black T-shirt. As we waited for the elevator, I could practically hear the dirty thoughts flopping around in Drew’s head. He had me backed into the wall for only one floor before the door dinged open, welcoming other guests. Hand in hand, we watched the numbers drop on the screen and got off on floor P for Pool. In typical ritzy-place fashion, there was someone waiting to help us find seats. Of course, that wasn’t good enough for Drew, and after some cash exchanged hands, we were on a daybed for two in a cabana. My towels were tucked around me tighter than a baby’s bottom in a cloth diaper, and chilled sparkling water appeared out of thin air. Menus arrived and we ordered salads with grilled veggies on the side, and all the while, Drew’s hand rested on my thigh. Finally left to our own devices, I closed my eyes and enjoyed my husband’s touch and the soothing sounds around us. A breeze fluttered the canvas wall of the cabana, seagulls called overhead, waves
splashed, and a few people laughed. It was such a peaceful moment, reminding me of the morning I spent reading the paper at Drew’s club, relaxing and taking some time to myself for the first time in years while Darla took her first tennis lesson with Drew. “Remember when we first found each other again?” He squeezed my thigh. “When I met my daughter, and realized I was still madly in love with you and you weren’t a ghost anymore? Yes.” “When you put it like that, it makes me sad.” “Hey.” He traced figure eights on my skin with his thumb, soothing me. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just had no idea what a zombie I’d become until I saw you again. I was going through the motions, and you were like a looming standard no other woman could fill.” “Other women,” I whispered, looking away. “Babe, look at me. I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. I wanted more for you, for your future, and didn’t want to ruin it for you with a cliché college scandal.” “Well, now you have me. Are there any looming standards from those other women?” I couldn’t help the jealousy tightening my gut. Blame the pregnancy hormones. “Jules . . .” He inched closer, turning on his side to face me. “There are no standards other than you. Stop fishing for compliments. You don’t need them. I left back then because I thought it was best, but it was a mistake. I missed you every day for seven years. Now I have you back, plus a daughter and another munchkin on the way. It’s more than I ever dreamed of.” “Am I enough?” I tilted a bit on my side and faced him, not sure where this uncharacteristic lack of self-confidence was coming from. Drew kissed my forehead before resting his against mine. “Jules, shhh. Don’t be silly. You’re double, triple enough.” “I love you.” “I know.” His lips met mine in a soft, chaste kiss, so caring and comforting, and exactly what I needed. “Now, what were you going to say before you got off on this ridiculous tangent?” “I was thinking of the morning I met you at the club, and you gave Darla a tennis lesson. Remember how you made me go get coffee and read the paper while I waited? It felt so decadent.” “I wish you could have had that in spades for seven years, but you’d done so much already alone—” “That’s not what I meant. I meant that this is really decadent. That was nothing, but at the time it seemed so monumental. And now I have this,” I said, gesturing at the luxury surrounding us, “and what next? How will you keep topping it? I’m not used to all these grand gestures and leisurely getaways, but I could get used to them.” Drew gave me a big grin. “So that’s what you should do. Get used to it.” I couldn’t look him in the eye for what I was going to say next. This was my life, but for how long? I ducked my face in the crook of his neck, not caring that we were in broad daylight on a daybed in a ritzy
poolside cabana. “What if it all disappears?” I said softly, my voice shy and childlike. “What if it goes away? Poof, just like that.” Drew’s brows drew together, turning his face the most serious I’d seen it all day. “Look at me, Juliette King. Look right into my face. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is going away in a poof. We waited too long for this, and I’m not going anywhere. And you certainly aren’t.” His hand slid over my small bump, settling over my navel. “We created another life, and this time, I’m not missing a second.” With his finger, he tilted my face toward him. “Feel me?” I nodded just as our food came. With a spread of enormous salads, grilled vegetables, fruit, and decaffeinated iced tea in front of us, my husband said the sweetest thing, putting a fork in me. “Jules, you are the only woman for me. The only woman there ever was for me. I’m sorry things turned out the way they did all those years ago, that I freaked and left, and you had a baby that I didn’t know about. But that’s all behind us. It’s only onward from here, love of my life.” Just like that, we dropped the subject. We ate, laughed, touched, and kissed. At sunset, Drew had a cocktail and I had a virgin piña colada. For the first time that day, we turned our backs to the ocean. He stood behind me and cradled my back against his chest as we watched the sun drop into the horizon in a dramatic swash of color. Dusk fell and as the air cooled, I was hyperaware of everything—my chest rising and falling, Drew’s breath on the top of my head, and the pool of heat gathering in my core. “Let’s go up to the room,” he said softly. He didn’t have to ask twice.
“YOU SURE YOU want to go out?” I called from the bathroom, fastening an earring as I examined my
changing body in my stretchy little black dress. “Yes, it’s Valentine’s Day, our first one together. We’re going to dinner.” I strode out of the bathroom, trying to be as sexy as I could only hours after getting laid multiple times. My body was languid and spent, and the thought of tossing on sweats and ordering room service was ohso-tempting. But there was Drew, handsome in dark jeans and an untucked white shirt. He’d just finished chatting on the phone with Darla while I got dressed, and was rolling up his sleeves. The top buttons of his shirt were still undone, exposing the scorpion tattoo on his chest and the turtle he had done for our daughter. I batted my eyelashes. “Let’s go so we can hurry back.” “Babe, the cheesy stuff doesn’t work coming from you.” He pulled me tight and kissed my nose,
running a hand over my butt and then squeezing a cheek. “I promise we’ll come back here for dessert. Both kinds—a yummy one for the baby, and the even better kind for you.” “What did Darla say?” I asked a few minutes later as we stepped out of the hotel’s sumptuous foyer and into the nighttime air. The sky was dark, littered with stars and newfound hope. “She was a gurgle of words. Sully took her on the boat, and Rosie made her an ice cream sundae. Sully tried to get her to eat pepperoni, but it was a no-go. She’s hell-bent on being a vegetarian like her mom.” “Listen, I tried to get her to go for fish when you were all up in my business about protein, but she was a no-go then too. I’ve been adding pureed beans to a lot of the sauces and soups I make.” Drew tensed slightly and I glanced at him, noting his half smile, half smirk. “What else? What’s that look on your face?” “Rosie’s neighbor’s dog had puppies . . .” “Drew,” I growled for the second time in one day. “We have turtles and a cat.” “We may have a dog now. I’m just warning you.” My feet stopped in their tracks. “Well, did you say no?” Evading my question, he urged me toward the valet stand. “Come on, we’re going to miss our reservation.” “Huh-uh. You’re not getting away with that, mister. You said yes, didn’t you?” I tried to be mad, but a smile crept across my face. Seeing Drew be a dad was like watching the sun come up every morning. It was miraculous. When he ignored my accusation and handed the valet our ticket, I said, “Dare I ask what kind of dog we’re getting?” “A really gorgeous one.” “How big is this really gorgeous dog going to be?” “Right now, not big. But maybe mid-size later.” “It’s not a car.” “It’s a Bernese mountain dog.” “Lucky for you I’m starving. Otherwise, we’d be heading home and telling Darla no.” “You would never.” “Oh, I would.” Drew opened the car door for me, and as he waited for me to slide in, he said, “You’ve given me so many amazing gifts. A wife, a family. Let me give our daughter the world.” Good thing he shut the door before I could respond, because I had no words.
OUR DINNER RESERVATION was at the same Italian restaurant where we’d eaten during our first date in
public several months ago. This time we had a table on the balcony, enjoying a gentle breeze wafting in from the ocean. Our hands were linked, my belly was full of pasta, and the baby was happy. After the plates were cleared, Drew’s hand caressed my thigh as decadent desserts arrived at our table. For a moment, I closed my eyes and imagined how it would be if I didn’t have this—and a shudder ran through my whole body. Not a good shudder, a scary one. Very scary. When my eyes popped open, I took in the ocean blue of Drew’s eyes and wished for our baby’s eyes to be the same color, praying something fierce that this dream would never end. And crossing my fingers and toes, I hoped with all my heart that Drew never got scared again, but I knew he wouldn’t. While we enjoyed an after-dinner drink, Drew leaned close and spoke in my ear. “I see it written all over your face, all that worry and fear that I’ll get spooked again. Never, and I mean never, is that going to happen. And the same goes for you, Jules. This is forever.” Drew and I might have started out as a coach and his player, with him telling me what to do both on and off the court, but we were equals now. No advantages. For us, it was truly love all. You can read all of Drew and Jules’s story before they found their happy ending here.
Other Titles By Rachel Blaufeld The Electric Tunnel Series Electrified Smoldered The Crossroads Series Redemption Lane Absolution Road Love At Center Court Series Vérité Dolce Stand Alones To See You Break Point
About the Author RACHEL BLAUFELD is a bestselling author of Romantic Suspense, New Adult, Coming-of-Age Romance,
and Sports Romance. A recent poll of her readers described her as insightful, generous, articulate, and spunky. Originally a social worker, Rachel creates broken yet redeeming characters. She’s been known to turn up the angst like cranking up the heat in the dead of winter. A devout coffee drinker and doughnut eater, Rachel spends way too many hours in local coffee shops, downing the aforementioned goodies while she plots her ideas. Her tales may all come with a side of angst and naughtiness, but end as lusciously as her treats. Rachel lives around the corner from her childhood home in Pennsylvania with her family and two beagles. Her obsessions include running, coffee, basketball, icing-filled doughnuts, antiheroes, and mighty fine epilogues. When she isn’t writing, she can be found courtside, tweeting about hoops as her son plays, or walking around the house wearing earplugs while her other son, the drummer, bangs away. To connect with Rachel, she’s most active in her private reading group, The Electric Readers, where she shares insider information and intimate conversation with her readers: Tunnel VIPs As well as: Website Twitter Facebook Newsletter
Backfire
by Rebecca Yarros
Chapter One
Bash
SEVEN MONTHS.
That was how long I’d had Emerson back in my bed, though she’d never left my heart. It didn’t matter how far I’d run, how many fires I fought, or how many times I’d cursed myself for every stupid decision, her memory had been with me until I finally came home to Legacy. Come home to her. The snow fell gently outside the window of my office, the flakes thick and heavy as I ran my finger over the small, velvet box in my left hand. Seven months in dating life was nothing. A blip on the radar. But I’d loved Emmy my entire adult life. Hell, she’d been one of my best friends growing up, until suddenly my thoughts spun from “friendly” to utterly sex-obsessed with a girl who was way too good for me. Thank God she hadn’t figured that out yet. I was sick of her being my girlfriend—I wanted my last name attached to her, and I wanted it done yesterday. It had to be perfect. Absolutely perfect. She deserved a flawless moment, and I was hell-bent on giving it to her. Our house—the one we’d been building since I’d agreed to stay in Legacy in August—was almost done. Just a few finishing touches and we could finally move into our home. I’d made sure it had plenty of bedrooms for when we decided it was time to start a family, and a master big enough for a king-sized bed. Every detail had been a joint decision, though I’d given into her whenever we disagreed. I wanted her to realize that it was our house for our future. I’d ordered a crazy amount of flowers to be delivered, a string quartet to play, and a professional chef to cook us an intimate dinner for two. Then, in the home we’d build our lives in, I’d ask her to risk everything for me—to become my wife. Valentine’s Day. It would be perfect. Just like she was.
Chapter Two
Emerson
MY RED HEELS clicked on the hardwood of the Legacy Hotshot’s clubhouse as I walked from my office on
one side of the building to Bash’s on the opposite side. My office’s location had been his one stipulation to me taking over the managerial duties of the elite firefighting squad—we had to work far enough apart to actually get something done. Mid-February meant the floor-to-ceiling windows I passed showed a snowcapped winter wonderland that was the Colorado Rockies. His door was open, so I poked my head inside to see him leaned back in his chair, shoes up on the desk, a gray, cable knit sweater stretched across the yards of hard muscle I knew lay under it. He gave me a wink with a hazel eye and ran his hand through his black hair, the only outward sign that he was frustrated with his current phone call. “I understand the issue. It’s not a commercial property; it’s residential. Phoenix Heights isn’t an extension of the Legacy LLC. It’s a subdivision full of single family homes that I’m buying specifically for the Hotshots.” I took a seat in the large armchair that faced his desk from the corner, and kicked off my heels, curling my legs under me. His eyes tracked the slight slide of my skirt up my thighs, and I arched an eyebrow, motioning for him to keep his concentration on the call. “Yes, the LLC will buy the property, but only for long enough for the other Hotshots to get here by the startup deadline. Then I’ll transfer the deeds to the firefighters.” He rolled his eyes and leaned his head back, exposing the long, strong line of his throat. God, he was sexy. Sebastian Vargas was sex incarnate, the embodiment of every fantasy I’d had since I was a teenager. My first love, my first…everything. Sure, the six years we’d been apart while he was learning the ropes as a hotshot firefighter in California had broken my heart, but he was home now, in Legacy, Colorado, with me, and planned on staying. Every morning that I woke up next to him glued pieces of me back together, pushed back the fear that he’d leave again. I’d quit my job with our little town council to help him with the hotshots, and I’d never been happier. He dragged a hand over his face in exasperation, and I got up, closed his office door, and then slid around his desk until I sat between him and the wooden surface. His eyes warmed my body from waist to lips as he took his feet off the desk and moved so I was between his spread knees.
“I don’t care what the town council says. I’m not buying up pieces of Legacy for the LLC just so I can be some kind of totalitarian dictator over all four-thousand of her residents. I’m buying land because I have twenty-one firefighters moving here in the next four months, and I can’t have them all living at the clubhouse.” He leaned forward and put his hand on my bare knee, sending a jolt of awareness to every one of my nerve endings. Bash had always been able to turn me on with only a touch. Hell, a look usually got the job done. “Look, just assure them that all those parcels will be transferred once the rest of the hotshot team gets here and makes their choice.” His hand slid higher, caressing the skin of my thigh as he reached under the hem of my dress. My breath hitched as he brushed his fingers over the edge of my panties, but it wasn’t the touch that sent my pulse skyrocketing—it was the smoldering look in his eyes, the promise there I knew he was more than capable of fulfilling. That look told me he’d be inside of me in a few moments, either with those talented fingers, his hard erection, or his nimble tongue. All three were equally skilled at bringing me to orgasm over and over. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He was all too aware of the power he held over me. Good thing I held even more over him. I pushed him back gently, so that his office chair rolled a few inches away, and slipped from the desk to my knees. “Because I’m not going to assign them houses. This isn’t a military base. They get to choose—” his breath caught as my fingers undid the snap of his jeans. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I unzipped his fly and found him hard and hot beneath my hand. He was thick, my fingers barely able to close around him, and only growing thicker as I freed him from the boxer briefs. His eyes were hooded, his breathing slightly labored as I leaned forward. Watching every nuance of change from hazel to green in his eyes, I swirled my tongue across his straining head. “Fuuuuuck,” he groaned. His eyes flew wide, “No, I didn’t mean to swear at you, Piper. I stubbed my —” I sucked him into my mouth fully, opening my throat so he could slide down it. “I have to call you back,” He snapped, and I heard the phone hit the floor. “Damn, baby,” he whispered, his fingers tangling in my hair. I gripped the base of his shaft and sucked harder, my core clenching with every moan he let slip free. There was something about bringing him to the point where he lost control that turned me on more than anything. “Emerson,” he growled. My muscles tightened, squeezing my legs together in an attempt to relieve the pressure building there. The click was the only warning I had, and it was louder than a gunshot. In a flash of a second, Bash was free of my mouth, but I lost my balance, smacking my head on the front of his desk before I fell under
it. Bash’s eyes flew to mine, wide with concern, but then jerked up as someone came in. “Hey, I just took a call,” Ryker said from the doorway and every inch of my skin burned red with mortification. We’d all been friends since we were in diapers, but I couldn’t remember when he’d found us in a more compromising position. “Yeah?” Bash asked, scooting forward slightly to hide me. I rubbed my head, almost laughing that he had me fully protected while he was still standing tall and erect outside his pants. He leaned his forearms on the desk, hopefully keeping from grossing out Ryker. “I guess your electrician just finished the last install and wanted Emerson or you to sign off, but I can’t find her.” I covered my mouth with both hands and tried not to laugh. “I’ll let her know,” Bash said. “Right, okay.” A moment passed while I considered leaning forward to lick him, just to see how far he’d let me go. “Anything else?” Bash asked. “Well, yeah. We’re late.” “Late…” Bash jolted as I ran my nails over his knees. “The dealer? For the new trucks? Bash, you’re the one who set the meeting. He’s in the conference room.” “Shit. Right. I’ll be there in a second.” “Okay. I’ll meet you in there,” Ryker said. There was a noticeable pause while I heard the door open. “Hi, Emmy,” he called out with a sigh. Laughter sputtered from my lips, and I raised my hand just above the desk. “Nice to not see you, Ryker!” “God, you two,” he muttered. “Well, knock!” I heard the door close, and then Bash leaned down, and with both hands under my arms pulled me out from under the desk and lifted me to sit on its surface. “For fuck’s sake, Emerson. Are you trying to kill me?” “Well, I bet he knocks next time,” I said with a grin. His gaze fell to my lips, and before I could so much as take a breath, he was breathing for me, his mouth on mine, his tongue stroking every sensitive hollow. I fell into his kiss, giving myself over to the insane chemistry that always took hold of us. “You have no idea how badly I need to fuck you right now,” he whispered against my lips. “You have no idea how good that sounds,” I replied, sinking my hands into his hair and kissing him. Our mouths connected, tongues thrusting, rubbing against each other, making love in a way we couldn’t
allow our bodies to. It was like we were trying to make up for our six lost years in the last seven months that we’d been back together—I simply couldn’t get enough of him or him of me. He kissed me again, slowly, sucking gently on my lower lip. “I really have to go before Ryker comes back in.” “Better he find you kissing me here than catch me on my knees,” I said. “Just hearing that from your mouth,” he said, rubbing his thumb along my cheek. “Well, one of your best friends did just walk in on your girlfriend going down on you.” A frown puckered the lines of his forehead. “What?” I asked, lightly kissing his chin. “It’s nothing,” he promised. “I have to sit through this meeting when all I want to do is take you home.” I helped him adjust and pulled his zipper up. “Speaking of home, I guess I’d better run to the house and check on the electrician. Meet me there after work?” “You bet,” he said, kissing me again. “I love you, Emerson,” he said softly, caressing my name with his mouth the same way his hands gently cradled my face. “I love you, Sebastian,” I promised. “Now go.”
Chapter Three
Emerson
MY HAND RAN across the seamless, smooth black granite that covered our kitchen counters. The stone was
gorgeous, little flecks of silver and gold shimmering under the lights. “It’s absolutely perfect,” I told Mr. Iverson. “The lights, the setup, all gorgeous.” He preened, his posture—which I had been certain was stuck in seventy-something curvature— straightening. “Well, of course it’s perfect. I’ve done every house in this town since 1961.” “And you do such a lovely job,” I assured him. “Bash and I can’t thank you enough. Give our love to Marie?” I asked. “Will do. Damn fine thing those boys are doing, reestablishing the hotshot team. Your daddies would be awfully proud.” “I think so, too,” I replied as I walked him to the door of what would soon be my new home. We said our goodbyes on the porch, and then I watched him pull out of the circular driveway. It was hard to believe that this was ours, now. We’d been building almost the entire seven months Bash had been back, and now it was finally done. I took in the view from our porch, the pine trees stretching toward the sky, the snow-capped peaks that rose above us. It was so peaceful here. Closing the door behind me, I made my way through our new log-cabin style home, touching the little details that had taken so much time to decide. Seeing as Legacy was so tiny, everything had been special ordered from Gunnison, and in other cases, Denver or Colorado Springs. Bash had spared no expense, and if I’d hinted that something would be great, it suddenly appeared and was installed. “I love him so much,” I said to myself, but my voice carried in the empty house, echoing off the freshly-painted walls. In just a couple days, those walls would be covered with pictures, the floor with our furniture, and maybe in a few years, the rooms would be full of our kids. I tried to shut that down, to stop the errant thought before it got away with me. There was no indication that Bash was ready for more. Sure, he’d built us this gorgeous house, with five very empty bedrooms, but he’d never hinted that he was ready to move forward. After all, he’d only been home seven months. Knowing that didn’t stop the stupid yearning in my heart, though. We’d waited so long to start our lives together, that I didn’t want to waste another moment. But I’d barely gotten him to agree to stay here in Legacy—and really it was the city council’s rule that the new hotshot team be made up of Legacies—it
wasn’t like I could start shoving him toward the altar. I wound my way up the stairs and found myself in our master bedroom, then our bathroom, staring at our claw-foot tub. That had been for me. The shower in the corner with two separate heads and two benches? That was for him. Though I could think of a ton of great uses for those benches… My phone rang and I smiled when I saw Bash’s hazel eyes staring up at me from his profile picture. “Hey, babe,” I said. “There’s a fire in New Mexico,” he said, never one to beat around the bush. “You’re going,” I replied, knowing it wasn’t a question. If he wasn’t going, he would have come home and told me. Calling meant he already had one foot out the door. “They’re short hands since we’re off season,” he explained. I sighed softly, popping the balloons of my dreams that we would move in and sleep in our home in the next few nights. “I completely understand. Will you call me when you get there?” “Of course. Emmy, I’m sorry. I really wanted to get moved in with you.” “I know,” I said. “We still have the movers booked. You could get started if you want, but don’t feel like you have to. I don’t want this all on you.” I turned back to our empty bedroom and imagined the bed we’d picked out together in its perfect place. New bed. New home. Fresh start. “Maybe I will,” I told him. “I can’t wait to wake up next to you every day.” He laughed. “You already do that.” “Okay, well, I can’t wait to have enough room for us to both sit in the same tub, shower in the same stall, and make love without worrying about getting the cops called on us by the neighbors.” “They’re just jealous,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “With good reason.” I could do it. I could move everything in and have it ready for him when he got home. It could be the start of the next phase of our life. “You’ll miss Valentine’s Day.” Sure, it was a silly thing to be sad over, but I wanted to celebrate with him, to have the stupid heartsand-candy holiday that screamed to the world how much you loved each other. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry, but I’ll make it up to you when I get home.” “All I want is for you to come home. Be careful, okay?” “I just got you back, Emmy. I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that, I swear.” “Okay. Be safe. I love you.” “I love you,” he promised and hung up. I loved that he didn’t say goodbye before fires, like it was a foregone conclusion that he was coming home. This time I’d make sure the home he was coming back to was ours.
Day one. I made sure the movers were still booked and then I packed everything I owned, knowing the movers would do whatever I couldn’t get boxed. I didn’t bother to purge—Bash was taking all of me, baggage, 90’s CDs and all. Hell, I was even bringing my double VHS of Titanic even though I couldn’t remember the last time I’d owned a VHS player. Bash called from the fire, and I physically felt my heart stretch across the distance to him, as if we were connected through the phone line. When we hung up, I sank to the floor next to my bed and leaned my head back against the mattress, reminding myself that he was damn good at his job. But our fathers had been, too. In the life of a hotshot, the fire didn’t care how good you were—it would consume you just the same. I slept in my townhouse for the last time, sending up a prayer that this wouldn’t all have been for another heartbreak—that he’d come home safe to me. Day 2 “Moving day!” My best friend, Harper, said, thrusting a bottle of wine into my hands. “You’re entirely too chipper,” I accused the perky blonde, motioning her to come inside our new home. “Whoa, they’ve got everything moved in already,” she said, noting the boxes that turned my house into a beige maze. “Bash’s stuff was mostly in storage, so it was already loaded, and it wasn’t like I brought too much with me.” “New furniture?” she asked, eyeing the empty living room. “Gets delivered tomorrow,” I told her. “It’s going to be perfect,” she said, hugging me tight. Out of everyone in my life, Harper knew what it had taken us to get here. She’d been there when I’d fallen for Bash at sixteen. When he noticed me at Seventeen. When I’d had him for six precious months at eighteen. She’d also seen the mess he’d left behind. “It will,” I replied. As soon as he gets home. Without Bash, this house was a beautiful, empty shell of promise. I needed him to make it ours. God, I missed him. “I can’t believe it’s all really happening,” she said, pulling a corkscrew from her pocket. I uncorked the wine as she grabbed glasses from her bag. “Sometimes I feel like I’m waiting for the
other shoe to drop,” I admitted. “Like he’s going to realize he was right to leave in the first place.” “He loves you,” she countered, taking a now-full glass of sparkling moscato. “That didn’t stop him before. Holding onto Bash sometimes feels like trying to keep water in my hands, like he’s going to slip through my fingers, or just evaporate and leave.” “Not just because he gets you wet?” She asked with a grin. “Oh. My. God. Harper.” She took a sip of her wine and stared at me thoughtfully for a moment. “I know you’re scared, and that him being here for seven months doesn’t make up for the six years he wasn’t. But look at this house. He’s putting down roots with you—around you—because you’re the one he draws life from. You’re his air, Emmy. You just have to trust him. Believe in him and what you two have.” “You’re right,” I told her, looking at all the details Bash had added to our kitchen because he knew I wanted them. This house was just as much mine as his, down to the bones, it was everything we’d both envisioned. “I think I just miss him.” “Good. That means you know exactly what you have.” “I do,” I agreed with a clink of our glasses. “To love.” “To love.”
Chapter Four
Emerson
“HAPPY VALENTINES DAY, baby.” I cradled the phone against my shoulder and sliced open the tape on another box. “Happy Valentines Day to you, too,” I said with a smile. “You know, I bought this incredibly sexy little number for tonight— seeing as it’s our first Valentine’s Day back together, but it would feel a little weird wearing it in this house all alone.” “God, I wish I could get there. They released us this morning since it’s not like we’re here with a full Legacy crew, but all the flights are booked. We’re out of here first thing in the morning.” “I can’t wait to see you. They delivered our bed, and the rest of the furniture a couple of hours ago. Bright and early.” “Our bed?” he groaned softly. “God, I can’t wait to get my hands on you. Just knowing you’re there, in our house, waiting for me…damn, it does things to me.” My fingers tightened on the phone. “Oh yeah?” “Hell yes. That’s our house. Our home. The place we finally get to build the future I’ve been dreaming of since I first kissed you. This is where our lives get to really begin.” My heart swelled, the emotions bringing a sheen of tears to my eyes. “Just get home to me.” “Yes, ma’am.” I heard the smile in his voice, pictured the way those sensuous lips tilted up, and a pang of longing shot through me. God, I loved him. We said our goodbyes, and I hugged the phone to my chest for a moment, wishing it was him. Two hours, a cup of coffee and fifteen unpacked boxes later, the doorbell rang. I set my copy of Pride and Prejudice on the bookshelf and walked to our entryway, loving the contrast between the soft carpet and warm wood on my feet. “Ms. Kendrick?” a delivery guy with a blue hat asked. “Yes?” A quick look behind him showed me a white van that read Gray’s Flowers. Huh. Usually everyone in Legacy used Mom’s shop. “Sign here, please,” he handed me the clipboard and turned around. “This is her, let’s go!” I scrawled my name across the line and then stood back, gawking as three other deliverymen began to
walk in and out of my house, carrying dozens and dozens of roses. Bash. “Where would you like these?” they asked. The counter. The table. The end table. The desk in the study. Oh, hell. Any flat surface. They were red, white, yellow, pink, purple—every color I could imagine. “Is there a card or anything?” I asked the lead guy with the “Peter” name tag. “Yes, ma’am,” he handed me an envelope. I tore into it as the last of the men left, slipping free the heavy card stock. It simply said, “Valentines Day. 249 dozen roses. Every color you have.” Then it listed my name and address. It wasn’t a card, but an order, but I didn’t need one to know who had done this for me. “Bash,” I whispered, running my fingers along the soft petals of a red rose. I understood why he hadn’t used Mom. She never would have been able to keep all of these fresh in her tiny store. These were shipped in. Our house was a riot of color and scent, bright and soft, and I gave myself a moment to sit down and simply soak in the utter beauty of it. My sexy, alpha, non-romantic guy had just romanced the hell out of me and he wasn’t even here. The front door opened and I turned to see Harper walk in. “Hey, I thought we could grab some din— whoa.” She spun in a small circle, taking in the vases of roses that covered every surface. “There must be…” “Almost three thousand,” I answered, my MBA brain crunching the numbers out of habit. “Good job, Bash,” she said softly. “I’m trying to find the right words so I can call him.” “Who needs words? Take off your clothes and send pictures,” she pointed a finger at me. “Ha. Give me a sec,” I told her, then pulled out my phone, calling Bash. It rang four times and went to voicemail. Damn. Even his voice on the message sent shivers racing down my spine. “It’s me. I’m sitting in a jungle of flowers, and I just want to tell you thank you, and that I love you, and I wish I had words for how absolutely amazing this is. I can’t wait to kiss you tomorrow.” I hung up and Harper sighed, smelling another bouquet. “Perfect. God, Bash is enough to make every guy on the planet look bad.” A little of the light faded from her eyes and I hopped up, wrapping an arm around my best friend. “Your guy will be just as fantastic.” She shook her head with a smile, brushing it off like she always did. “My guys are three and four years old, and that’s all I can handle.”
I knew she loved the preschoolers she taught, but I also knew there was one guy who had her heart locked up like a vise, and until he realized it…well, she was stuck. “Anyway, I was thinking we should grab some dinner—” The doorbell rang, and I held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” I opened the door to two women and a gentleman dressed in chef coats. What the hell. “Mr. Vargas?” the shortest woman asked, obviously in charge. “He’s not home,” I answered, my mind racing with every possibility. Were they lost? Looking for the clubhouse? Had Bash put together a dinner for the other firefighters before he knew they’d be gone? “Ms. Kendrick?” she tried again. “That’s me. Did you want me to call—” “Excellent,” she said with a head nod. “If you’ll show us the kitchen, Mr. Vargas ordered dinner for two.” My gaze swung to Harper’s, and she shrugged. “I guess he knew we’d be unpacking?” “Right,” I said slowly. “Okay, but I still haven’t unpacked much, and I don’t know where anything is.” “No problem, we’ve brought everything we need except a stove. I can assume you have one of those?” Holy shit, this woman was a culinary dictator. “I do have one of those. This way, please.” I shot Harper a what-the-hell look as I passed and took them into the kitchen that was designed for masterpieces but would most often be used for takeout, knowing us. “Excellent,” she said, surveying the space. “Now leave us. We’ll let you know when we’re ready.” I backed out of the kitchen slowly, bumping into Harper. “Ummmm.” “He’s pulling out all the stops for you,” she said with a grin. “Want to tackle the pictures while they cook…whatever it is they’re cooking?” “Sounds like a plan.” We opened most of the picture boxes and then leaned the art against the wall where we thought it should go. No doubt I’d move them another dozen times before I felt like I was certain. I tried to call Bash again, but the phone went to voicemail. A tiny spark lit in my heart that maybe they’d gotten out after all, that maybe this dinner was really for the two of us and he’d walk in at any moment. When the doorbell rang a third time, Harper jumped. “Ooh, I want to get this one!” It had been an hour since the chefs arrived, and by the aromas wafting from my kitchen, we were in for a delicious dinner. I maneuvered around boxes until I found Harper in my entryway, looking more than perplexed as she stared at four people, dressed in black, all carrying instrument cases. “I have no idea what to do with you,” she said, her hands outspread. “We’re supposed to set up in the dining room,” the tallest one with the biggest case answered. “You’re a string quartet,” I said, more for my benefit than theirs. “We are. Mr. Vargas asked us to play while you dine tonight,” he answered with a slight incline his
head. “Okay, I’m all for romantic dinners with my best friend, but this is a little much,” Harper remarked. My mouth opened and shut a few times, trying to put it together. “When did he book you?” “About a month ago,” he answered. My shoulders sagged, and my eyes shot toward the ceiling. “He planned a romantic date, and then forgot to cancel it when he got called away to a fire.” “Well, I’m glad he’s not trying to set us up as an item,” Harper joked. “You guys don’t have to stay. Seriously. He’s not even here, and it’s just us girls,” I assured them. “Go spend Valentines Day with your loved ones.” “We’ve already been paid, and we’d like to play for you if you don’t mind,” he answered while the others muttered their agreement. Harper and I had a silent conversation full of eyebrow arches and shrugs until I finally sighed. “That would be lovely. Why don’t you come with me?” I led them to the formal dining room, which boasted a dark, farmhouse style table that had been delivered that morning. We’d gone for minimal fuss in our decorations, and I loved the simple, clean lines. Plus, it was built to fit twelve, so we’d have a place to eat when the crew came to dinner. “Well, I guess we just enjoy it?” Harper suggested. “He really is something else.” “You can say that again. Maybe while he’s teaching the rookies to fight fires, he can teach them how to romance their girlfriends. Lord knows Ryker could use some help, God love my brother.” “And Knox?” She scoffed. “Knox has zero problem romancing the panties off anyone.” I dropped the subject, knowing those two would dance around each other until one of them gave in. I dialed Bash again, equally hoping to hear his voice as I was hoping that he’d made it home from New Mexico, but voicemail picked up. “Hey. This…this date is amazing. I just wish you were here for it. I love you.” Then I sat with my oldest friend and ate the most delicious dinner of my life as a string quartet serenaded us. I couldn’t help but smile as I realized that Bash had given me the most romantic Valentine’s Day I’d ever had—and didn’t even have to be present.
Chapter Five
Bash
I PULLED INTO the darkened driveway and hit the garage door opener. The Land Rover fit perfectly into its
spot next to Emerson’s car, and I couldn’t help but have this stupid, glowing feeling that I was finally coming home—to our house—to her. It had cost me a pretty penny to charter a flight out of New Mexico, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be with Emmy. As quietly as I could, I made my way into our home, muttering under my breath when I realized she hadn’t set the alarm. I didn’t care that we lived in the middle of the Rockies in a tiny town, her safety was still my first priority. I dropped all my bags but my small backpack in the mudroom, hung up my coat, stripped off my boots, and set my dead phone to charge on the kitchen counter. Roses littered every surface, giving the house the kind of scent I always associated with her mom’s shop—with Emerson. The lights were off. No doubt she was asleep even though it was only 11:30. From the look of everything she’d gotten put away, she’d been working her ass off to get our house settled. Taking a long-stemmed red rose from the nearest vase, I headed up the stairs, savoring the sweet pressure in my chest that came with the knowledge that the woman I loved was asleep in my bed. Did life get any better? I was about to find out. I opened the first door—the master suite, and dropped my backpack quietly along the wall, then walked toward the bed. It was empty. “What the fuck?” I looked around the room for a second as if Emerson was curled up in a corner or something. Then I checked the master bath. Then I got worried, abandoning the rose on her nightstand. Her car was here. Her keys had been on the kitchen counter. Had the roses spooked her? Or everything else that I’d forgotten to cancel until I was in the air? I was already in knots over my ruined proposal. I’d wanted everything to be perfect, and instead, she’d gotten a coordinated schedule of events without the meaning, the emotion. My flawless plan had gone to shit—talk about a backfire.
In a few strides, I was in the hallway, and a few more, I had the guest room door open. Thank you, God. There was Emerson, curled up in the guest bed, her dark hair spread around her, with one hand under her pillow. My chest swelled with more than my heart knew how to hold. A deep sigh of relief ran through me while I watched her. Fires were always dangerous, but knowing she was here had given me another reason to make sure every choice I made had been safe—she was my reason for everything, lately. I gently peeled the covers off her, smiling when I saw that she slept in my favorite Eagles T-shirt. Then, I lifted her into my arms. Her head lolled onto my chest, and I felt a shot of joy more potent than any drug could have been. She was my addiction. “Bash,” she murmured, lifting her face to nuzzle my throat. Damn, the woman was a turn-on even dead asleep. Then again, the minute I’d seen those mile-long legs under my t-shirt, I’d gone hard. “Hey, baby,” I said, dropping a kiss to her forehead as I carried to the master bedroom. “You’re home?” she asked, blinking up at me. “I am. And you’re not in our bed. Did you decide you’d rather we sleep in the guest room? I mean, it’s smaller, and the closet sucks, but I’m game for whatever you want,” I told her as I laid her down in the king-sized sleigh bed we’d chosen together. She stretched, arching her back and restlessly moving her legs. Shit, I wanted her. I wanted to fuck her in every room of this house, to hear my name echo off the empty walls, and then to make love to her until she couldn’t move. That should keep her in our bed. “I didn’t want to sleep in here the first time without you,” she said, sleepily smiling at me. “Now you don’t have to,” I said, unzipping the hoodie I wore and tossing it across the room. “I wish you could see yourself, Emerson. You’re so fucking beautiful.” That seemed to wake her up. She sat up straight, a hand running over her head. “Wait. You’re home. You’re here!” “I am,” I said, laughing. My woman could sleep through a freight train. “I…I meant to do my hair, and to put on my cute little lingerie,” she said, panic creeping in to her eyes. “Hey.” I captured her hands between mine, kissing her knuckles. “I happen to think you’re sexy as hell in my shirt.” “Oh my God, Bash. The flowers, and the dinner, and the music, it was all so perfect! Thank you.” She came up on her knees, winding her arms around my neck. One of my hands skimmed the line of her curves, finally gripping a hip, while the other cradled the back of her head. “I just wish I’d been here. I’m so sorry, I forgot to cancel everything. I just wanted our first Valentines Day in the house to be…well, perfect.” “It was,” she promised. “I missed you.” “I missed you, more. Just knowing that you were here, waiting for me to get home drove me insane.”
Hell, waiting to get her under me had me nearly out of my mind. My body raged with the need to feel hers, to hold her to me in every way possible. She kissed me lightly, then smiled against my mouth. “This is what it’s always going to feel like, isn’t it? The missing you when you’re gone. The worry. The sublime feeling of getting you home again?” “Yeah,” I whispered. “Only better.” We’d always had insane chemistry as we’d grown up, become lovers that one night. But now it was different—hotter, deeper, even more explosive. I couldn’t wait to see where we were at in five years, ten years…eternity. Unable to wait a second later, I crushed her mouth to mine, demanding entrance and gaining it. She tasted like the spearmint of her toothpaste. I groaned when her tongue swirled around mine, the jolt like a hit of NOS to my dick. I tilted her head, kissing her deeper, harder, needing to brand her soul with mine. Kissing Emerson always felt like a sexual act in its own right—every ounce of my concentration went to her mouth, her taste, her whimpers. “Bash,” she moaned, her fingernails raking over my scalp. A quick tug of her shirt left her bare to her panties. How the hell was this woman mine? Her curves were soft, her breasts rising with hardened peaks as her breath hitched. She wanted me. I was the luckiest asshole on the planet. I laid her down, taking her pink, boycut panties off with a quick lift of her hips. She was spread out before me like a fucking buffet, and I couldn’t decide what to devour first. She shifted her thighs so I could climb between them, and I quickly shed my shirt, pants, and socks. The boxer-briefs had to stay on if I wanted any chance at controlling myself long enough to get her off a couple times. Maybe three. Hell, I’d do this all night. I’d bliss her out so completely that she’d be unable to use that gorgeous brain of hers for a week. “Sebastian,” she growled impatiently, holding her arms. “Get over here.” “At your command,” I answered, kissing up the soft skin of her calves, pausing to suck at the sensitive spot behind her knees. Her hips bucked, and my dick answered as I continued my path up her toned thighs. Making love to Emerson was my greatest pleasure and my biggest challenge. It was a constant battle between my head and heart demanding she come over and over, that she call out my name when she fell apart, and my body screaming to thrust over and over, to take her until she was marked mine in every way possible. It was a glorious war I fought as often as possible. Her fingers tangled in my hair as I licked the line between her thigh and torso. “Bash,” she whimpered, rolling her hips. “What do you need, baby?” I asked, loving it when I could get her to say the words. Emerson might be a tightly composed, brilliant woman outside this bed, but in it I turned her into a mindless seeker of pleasure. “Don’t tease,” she begged, her legs parting wider. She was so soft and pink, glistening with want.
I ran my tongue in one long lick from her opening to her clit, reveling in her full-body shudder. “Yes!” she called out. “Is that it?” I asked, trying to ignore the urgent throbbing in my dick. “Sebastian, if you don’t put your mouth on me, I swear—” She finished on a cry as I put my lips and tongue to my favorite kind of work. Her grip on my hair was deliciously painful as she held me to her, rocking her hips against my face as I licked and sucked relentlessly, bringing her closer and closer to the precipice, but never allowing her to fall over. Her moans fueled me like nothing else could—drove me to push her higher, wind her tighter, to play her body like the exquisite instrument it was. I’d never been a musician, but I knew exactly how to get the high notes out of Emerson. I raked my teeth over her clit, and she bucked beneath me, but I still denied her that bit of pressure she needed. Her hips rolled and I rested my forearm across her lower belly to keep her still for me. “Is this what you need?” “Yes!” she cried out. I slid my middle finger inside her, nearly losing my control at the warm, wet feel of her squeezing me tight. Every muscle in my body locked with the effort it took not to drive into her, to bring us both to climax in the next thirty seconds. There was a time for quick, hard, satisfying fucking, but this wasn’t it. I found the small, rougher spot inside her walls and stroked her with my finger, then added another when she cried out, one of her hands abandoning my head to fist the covers. “Tell you love me.” “Bash!” she screamed, nearly mindless. “Emerson,” I said softly, giving her another lick at her clit, dragging it over the small nub until she keened. “Oh God, that feels so damn good.” “Say it,” I ordered. “I love you,” she told me as the muscles of her belly tightened. She was close. I worked my tongue and fingers at the same time but slowed as her back bowed. “Tell me you need me.” “Bash, God, I need you. Just—” I lightly sucked at her as she grew even wetter for my fingers. Fuck, I could eat at her all day. “Ah!” She cried. “Tell me you can’t live without me,” I demanded, hearing the slight desperation creep into my voice. She must have heard it too, because she lifted her head, her hand suddenly tender in my hair, stroking me. “I can’t imagine living without you, Bash. You’re everything to me and always have been. That’s never going to change.”
Her breasts heaved with her labored breathing, her body tight and aching for the release she so desperately needed. So I gave it to her. I replaced my tongue with my thumb, swirling over her clit and then pressing lightly while my fingers worked her. The pressure sent her flying. She tensed, my name a scream from her lips as she orgasmed. I’d never seen something so fucking erotic. Those incredible, brown eyes of hers were hazy as I crawled up her body, dragging my skin over her sensitive nerve endings. I stopped to worship her breasts, to give them the attention they deserved until she was writhing under me again. “Bash, I need you,” she begged. Her legs moving restlessly against mine. “Not as much as I need you,” I told her, bracing to slide my boxer briefs off. I nearly wept relief as I was released from the confining space. As I tossed the briefs to the floor, I leaned slightly, grabbing the contents of that small velvet box I’d left in the pocket of my jeans. Then I kissed my way over her stomach, stopping to suck at her nipples, and then making my way to her throat, where my tongue traced a path to her ear. “Tell me I’m all you want,” I whispered as my dick lined up with her entrance. God, she was so wet, so hot and all it would take was one tiny push… “You’re the only man I’ll ever want,” she promised, rocking her hips so that I entered her just slightly. I hissed, rolling my hips back. My lips kissed their way down her jaw. “Tell me you’re in this forever.” “Until I die,” she swore. Then I kissed her mouth, my desire cranking to an almost painful level. She went wild, her tongue in my mouth, her nails lightly scoring the skin of my back. Emerson wasn’t the kind of woman I could ever— or would ever want to—control. She was a force of nature, only more beautiful for her stubbornness, but in this moment, she was mine—because she allowed it. I used my fingers to stroke her back to the brink as we kissed, bringing her fire back to a raging need until she was arching under me, looking for completion. And while she rocked, writhed, and thrashed, I intertwined her fingers with mine, slipping my ring onto her left hand. She was it for me—the only woman I’d ever want, ever need. She was the air in my lungs and the sun in my sky, the one who made my life possible. Every possibility existed with her, and yet there was nothing without her. I swallowed, trying to push past the clamoring of my heart. “Tell me you’ll marry me.” She stilled, her eyes wide. “Bash?” she whispered. Shit, this was it. “I wanted to do it perfectly, so I sent flowers, I had dinner made, and I booked the quartet. I wanted to
romance you, give you the ultimate moment, but then it all went to hell when I got called away, and I realized there is no ultimate moment with you because every second is perfect. We started too young, I stayed away too long, we got back together at the wrong time. We don’t do perfect. We do messy, and we do hard, and we thrive in the hardest situations. I love you, Emerson Kendrick. I have since I was too young to understand what it meant, and I will until this world no longer exists. So I’m asking if you’ll do messy, and hard, and imperfect with me for the rest of my life. Will you be my wife? Will you marry me?” I wasn’t even on one knee, but I felt the same—like I was at her feet and utterly at her mercy. “Yes,” she whispered, her eyes shining with the love I knew would sustain me. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Bash.” Her arms were around my neck, and I sank into her mouth at the same time I plunged into her body, uniting us in every way possible. I made love to her slowly while we kissed, while we smiled at each other, and I knew the wonder, the joy I felt wasn’t one-sided. We were in every aspect of this life together. I held back as long as possible, savoring every second, knowing I needed to remember it, but when she came apart under me again, I lost it. I drove into her over and over again, my fingers digging into the skin of her hips as she took everything I gave and demanded more until my orgasm ripped through me, stopping the spin of the world for those exquisite seconds. I collapsed on her, immediately rolling to the side and pulling her with me so I didn’t crush her slight frame under my weight. “You said yes,” I said with a grin. “I said yes,” she confirmed with a smile of her own. Then her eyes popped when she saw the two carat princess cut on her left hand. “Bash!” “Do you like it?” Shit, I sounded like a little boy looking for approval. “It’s…it’s gorgeous! It’s too much.” “Good, then it’s just like you,” I said, kissing her lips. My Emerson. My fiancée…my future wife. “I’m sorry the proposal got all fucked up.” “It was perfect. I mean, we probably don’t want to tell that story to my mother…” I laughed. “Yeah, let’s try to keep it PG.” “Three thousand roses?” She asked, her fingers lightly stroking the stubble on my face. “Two thousand, nine hundred and eighty-eight,” I corrected her. “One rose for every day I’ve loved you…give or take that month I couldn’t figure out what the hell the feeling in my chest was when I looked at you. Every color because they all mean something different, and you mean every single one of those things to me.” My thumb traced her lower lip as she parted them. “Holy shit, Bash, if I hadn’t already said yes, I would have now. You’re quite the romantic when you want to be, you silver-tongued devil.” “Shhh, don’t tell anyone,” I said as I kissed her.
She leaned over and looked at the clock. Twelve thirty a.m. “I guess we missed Valentines Day.” “Every day is Valentines Day with you.” She sputtered in giggles. “Ok, that was over the top cheesy.” I grinned, already tracking back down her beautiful body. “Don’t worry. My tongue has even better uses.” Then I showed her again, just like I’d get to show her every day of the rest of our lives. Maybe our future would be full of fights and backfires, but it would also be make-up sex and reunions. It would be ours.
The End
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Entwined
by SE Hall
Chapter One
Dane
ALTHOUGH I’VE ASKED her countless times and have never been crushed by an actual “no” — to which I’d
laugh, then redden her curvy ass, because we both know she will be my wife one day — I am always devastatingly put-off with a lovingly said, but still infuriating to hear, “not yet,” or “soon.” I want a teary-eyed, breathless yet resounding, “yes!” I’m tired of waiting. And everyone should know by now, especially my baby herself, that when it comes to Laney Jo Walker — I am far from a patient man. As far as you can possibly get. I’d bring in a minister to marry us while she slept if I could, but apparently there’s some ethical, legal, or both, bullshit rule that the bride and her witness must be cognitive, fancy word for “awake,” when vows are exchanged. I checked. All our friends are either married, or engaged with set wedding dates. Every. Fucking. Couple. Except us. Eats my ass so damn bad when I think of the tuxes I’ve tried on and rehearsals I’ve endured, more times than a serial Polygamist, and there’s still not a ring on my Disney’s finger. Tests me to the very tempting point of wanting to abandon all sense of reason and just start punching shit. “I’m ready.” Speaking of Disney… out she walks, stealing the breath I never seem to ever wholly get back where she’s concerned. “How do I look?” “Exquisite, as always,” I let the awe in my voice go unchecked as I move toward her. “I love you in any color, you know this.” I haul her flush against me and brush her long, blonde hair off one side of her neck. “But there’s something especially captivating about you in red,” I hum upon the revealed flesh. “Thank you,” she sighs, “for the compliment and the dress, I love it. But,” she gently pushes me away with a tiny snicker, “I’m starving, and I know you too well. You’re like a bull when you see red. So let’s hurry up and head to dinner before this dress is in shreds on the floor and my stomach starts growling louder than you will be if we stay.” “As you wish,” I easily agree, far bigger plans at stake tonight, and escort her to dinner.
“IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL here. Thank you again for bringing me.” Her tone is wispy, as though enchanted by the
ambience and view; to which I’d have to agree. I’d chosen Emerald Isle for our celebratory getaway, and standing here on the pier, under the moonlight, with the soft serenade of rippling water and the love of my life in my arms, only one other thing could complete my true happiness. I release my hold on her to pull the box from the inside pocket of my jacket and bend to one knee. Gazing up at her, the moon’s iridescent glow casting a fitting halo around her, I send up a silent prayer that this will be the time I get my yes. “Laney, baby, I know I’ve asked you—” “Fifteen times,” she whispers her bemused interruption. I laugh. “All right then. I know I’ve asked fifteen times, but I’m asking again. I don’t think I can live another day without your promise to be mine, forever. I need to know, more than my next breath, that I will have my beautiful, sexy, witty, strong, determined Disney by my side every day of my life. Will you please, finally, truly complete me, us, and agree to become my wife?” The brimming tears in her eyes glisten, as if a reflection, in the night’s perfect lighting, and as only my baby can, she thinks not of the elegant gown she’s wearing and drops to her knees to join me. Classic Laney — decorum be damned. I love that about her. She takes my free hand and lays it over her heart, her voice thick with emotion when she speaks the words that will eternally change my life. “I told you that once I’d accomplished all the goals I had for myself, that I had to do by myself, I’d marry you. I’ve graduated college, and have my dream coaching job now, both earned by me, my hard work. So Caveman, tonight, my answer is yes. I would love nothing more than to marry you.” I hope she didn’t want to save the box, ‘cause in the delirium of my long-awaited fulfillment, I have no idea where I tossed that fucker once I pulled the ring out. I slide the white gold on her finger and try to say “thank you,” which comes out a feral growl of “mine” of its own instinctual volition, then hoist her in my arms and stand. “Babe,” she giggles, “we didn’t kiss, take a picture or enjoy the moment. What are you doing?” Besides practically running to our room? “Oh, I enjoyed the moment, immensely. And I’m damn sure gonna kiss ya. Everywhere. Do your picture thing later. You just agreed to marry me, baby. You’re lucky I’m taking you to the room first and not already fucking you right out in the open.” “Such a brute,” she laughs, wrapping her arms around my neck. “My brute. I love you, Dane.” “Love you too, so damn much. Get the door,” I grunt, impatiently waiting as she keys us inside, then kick it closed behind us. “When?” I ask gruffly as I place her on her feet, trying to spare the dress I’d like to see her in again, but precariously close to saying “fuck it.” “When what?” She turns for me… ah, zips down the side. “Date. Wedding. When?” I hurriedly strip her down to… fuck, a black thong and garter set. So damn sexy. “These are staying on,” I grate out my command, running my fingers up her thighs, around the tops of
the garters and finally, the lacy, inner edge of her panties. “God damn, baby. I hope you’re ready for me.” She lets out a tiny squeal as I eagerly maneuver her to stand in front of the dresser. “Date, Laney. Tell me,” I demand, tugging my pants open and yanking them and my boxer briefs down. “I, don’t know yet,” she stammers in shallow breaths, spreading her stance — bracing herself for the onslaught of what she knows is coming. “One week. You decide by then, or I do. And it better be a date in the very near future. Hear me?” “Hear you.” “Good girl. Now, you want me, Laney?” I ask in rhetorical dominance, teasing my dick along and through her dripping wet pussy, panties pulled to the side. She nods, arching her ass toward me. Not good enough. And she knows it. With an authoritative hand and deep rumble in my chest, I push down on her back ‘til her juicy ass, my favorite part of her — a plump but muscled bubble-butt of perfection — is perched impossibly high in the air for me… and the panties are now ripped, out of my way. I squeeze and roll both firm cheeks in my hands, my cock swelling even more so from the intoxicatingly erotic, wet sounds of her desire. “Yeah, my baby wants me bad, doesn’t she? Say it, you little tease. Tell me how you want it. Rough? You want my whole cock shoved in deep?” I push in just the tip and wait, achingly, for her to beg. “Yes, Dane, please,” she pants, already clenching around me. “Love me, now.” I clasp a firm grip on her hips and thrust forward, burying myself in her tight, wet heat with an animalistic roar. “Like that, baby? That how you want it?” “Yeah,” she mewls, rocking her pelvis back and forth to take her pleasure. I buck in counter-rhythm, slowly dragging my dick almost all the way out then sliding back in at her greedy pace. I love control, maniacally so, but damn it if it doesn’t drive me wild when she dances on my dick. Watching her ass bounce, hearing her throaty moans as she hungrily takes what’s hers, emboldened and raunchy by crazed ecstasy. My dirty girl, love her too. Those unbelievable internal muscles of hers start to quiver around me, the tell-tale tremors of her building quake, and her breathing grows loud and ragged. “Fuck yes, give it to me.” I reach a hand down to her clit and manipulate the engorged little bud just how she likes. “Dane,” she wails my name, pulsating around my cock as she coats it with her release, setting me off. I lower myself over her back and slide my hands under her sweat-slickened body, grabbing both tits, encircling her in protection from my brutal force. “Your pussy’s begging,” I pound deeper, “for my come,” harder, “keep squeezing, baby, take it from me.” The dresser bangs against the wall, the bass to our cacophony of my gnarled groans and her sweet whimpers. With a final, hoarse rumble, I burrow to her depths and come, long and hard… into my fiancé.
Chapter Two
Laney
I WASN’T EXPECTING anyone, so I’m a little surprised when the doorbell rings.
But when I open the door and a beaming, dizzyingly hyper Whitley pounces — I’m not a bit taken aback — she’s actually late… if you take into consideration who it is I’m marrying. The one-week deadline to pick a date for the wedding Dane had imposed on me expired two days ago. Call me crazy, he did, but I need more than a week to return and settle back in from vacation and coordinate availability with everyone we know, not to mention a venue… but, my Caveman says a week, that’s what he means. And now, he’s sent in the big gun — “Whitley Poppins Planner” — to take over. If anyone can throw together a wedding fast enough to please the persnickety Mr. Caveman Kendrick yet still make it glamorous and full of all the over-the-top fixings… it’s Whitley. “Hey Whit, come on in.” I give her a very wide berth, to avoid possible injury. “Hey! Aren’t you going to ask to what you owe the pleasure?” Oh no, she’s using her “head voice.” “Nope.” I shut the door and turn to her with a stoic expression. “I am gonna ask if you’d like a drink. I’m thinking wine. Copious amounts. And maybe a Xanax? I’m sure I’ve got one around here somewhere. Lemme lift the couch cushions and check.” “Oh, hush,” she waves a flitting hand and giggles. “So, let’s get started. Want me to set up at the kitchen table?” “Set up?” Okay, now she’s stumped me… because while her purse may be large, it’s the only thing she’s holding, and really, how much whatever requires “setting up” could she possibly have in there? Then again, the other Poppins pulled a damn coat rack outta her bag. “My stuff, hello? Weddings don’t just plan themselves, Laney.” She rolls her eyes, clearly disappointed in my ignorance. “It’s out in the car, I’ll go grab it.” “I’ll go hunt down that Xanax,” I call after her, already doing that walk/shimmy/skip thing of hers out the door. Rather than the narcotic, which very unfortunately I don’t really have, I find my phone and try to text as fast as I know Whitley’s gonna be moving.
Me: All this time, I thought you enjoyed having sex with me. Why didn’t you say something sooner? Dane: Love fucking you, gonna do so tonight. After Whitley leaves. Funny though. Me: Nope. You’re cut off. As long as I have to deal with Whitley’s hysterics, you will deal with your right hand. “Almost ready,” Whitley chirps, dropping off a load of stuff on the table. “One more trip, be right back.” “Uh huh,” I mutter, staring at my phone. Dane: We’ll see about that. Me: We sure will. I’m not kidding, mister! You went too far. Dane: I told you, one week. You were amply warned. Deal with it, and be nice. Me: I’m always nice! Dane: To WHO? “Okay, I’m ready!” Whitley squeals, piercing my eardrums… and drawing my attention. Me: Cut. Off. “Me too,” I force on a smile, turn my phone on vibrate and slowly drag my feet toward “Party Central.” Two hours later, two, and I’ve had enough. My jaw aches from all the damn grinning I’ve been doing and if Whitley claps, patty-cakes or whatever the hell it is she’s doing, one more time, I’ll be left no choice but to break her hands. Bless her heart of gold; I truly adore her and she’s amazing, giving of her time to plan my wedding for me, but damn do I have a headache. “Whit, can we please take a break? Have a glass of wine? You know this isn’t my thing and, well, sweetie, I’m about to lose my shit.” “You go ahead, have some wine, but I have to keep a clear head. Look on the bright side, do you realize how much we’ve gotten accomplished?”
“A lot?” I venture a guess as I sprint to the fridge, tempted to chug straight from the bottle. “Yes, a lot!” She laughs, then clears her throat and begins to reel off her checklist… again. “We have a date, a beautiful venue booked, your suite and wedding party rooms reserved and your wedding song picked out. Now we just need to find your dress and you and Dane need to ask whomever you’ve chosen to be in your wedding party if they accept and let me know their roles.” Precious Whitley… she’s trying to act unconcerned about that last item, but inside, she’s one, big swarm of cracked-out butterflies, biting her tongue, every breath labored with the anticipation of the question she hopes I’ll ask. Of course I’m gonna ask; she’s Crew, one of my dearest friends. “Whitley,” I drawl in taunt. “Yes?” Her excitement’s unhidden and high-pitched. “Would you please do me the honor of being my first, beautiful bridesmaid?” “Oh my God, really?” She jumps from her chair, doing one helluva job feigning surprise, and runs over to hug me. No wine spilled in the process. “I’d love to, yes, yes! Thank you!” “Thank you.” I hug her back… but it’s short-lived, because Whitley is Whitley… and simply must pull back to talk a mile a minute. “We have to pick out bridesmaid dresses, too! I know a great shop. I’m thinking a light blue or lavender.” “Let’s wait ‘til all the girls have been asked and hopefully accepted, then we’ll all go together and decide on a style and color.” I laugh. Look at me with a plan. Oh, don’t think I miss the twinkle of hidden agenda in her eyes. She’s gonna call ahead to that shop and make sure anything in colors she doesn’t like are pulled off the rack. Bet on that. I don’t care; after all she’s doing to help, I’m glad to let her have the small victory. “Can you ask them now, invite them over, so I can book a private viewing session?” “Um, I can call two of them, but I’ll ask the others in person. Soon, I promise.” “Two’s a start.” She bobs her head. “Can you call them now?” “Do I have any other choice?” I’m just teasing her, phone already in hand. “I’ll make you a deal. Place the two calls, then we’ll be done for today.” “Dialing right now, sista.” Hayden, the wife of Parker Jones, my childhood friend, answers cheerfully. “Hey Laney, how are you?” “Good, you?” “Great. Parker’s out in the field though, did you need to talk to him? I could give him a message.” “Actually, I was calling you, to ask a very important question.” “Okay, anything I can do, you know that.” “Great, then you will be one of my bridesmaids?” “For Heaven’s sakes, finally! You know I will.” Her voice wobbles with tears of joy. “I’m honored
you thought of me. You just tell me when and where, girl! And Laney? Congratulations.” “Thank you. Will you be bringing–” “No! They’re staying at home with Grandma. Parker and I need a break.” “Okay,” I laugh, “just checking. Who knows, maybe you guys can use the getaway to make three more.” “Bite your tongue, Devil Woman,” she hisses. “All right, only kidding. So Whit has your number, she’s the wedding planner extraordinaire. You know that drill, right? She’ll be in touch with all the details, okay?” “Sounds good. I’ll be waiting.” I tell Whitley it’s a go on Hayden, she does the clappy/patty-cake thing again, then I make the next call to Samantha, the wife of Dane’s longtime friend Andy, whom he’d lost his relationship with for a while, but I know now that they’ve long-since reconciled, he’ll want to invite him. Plus, I once told Samantha she was “about to need Jesus” as I prepped to kick her ass, so another olive-branch couldn’t hurt. Our conversation goes very much the same way, another yes, and I hang up feeling accomplished — actually participating a bit. And as promised, Whitley’s satisfied with our progress and calls it a wrap for the day. I see her out, thanking her again and suggesting that she think about party-planning as a career since she’s spectacular at it and seems to really enjoy doing it, then fire off two texts — making lunch plans for tomorrow at the same place for two different times, with two different people. I need to ask Emmett to be a bridesmaid, but to save any awkwardness or hurt feelings, I’m going to ask Bennett to be my Maid of Honor when it’s just the two of us. Things are moving fast… but I’ve kept him waiting long enough.
Chapter Three
Dane
I WALK IN the door, home from work, and have to stop and do a double-take… yeah, I'm in the right house.
Which means, my little minx is still mad I sicced Whitley on her and a sinister scheme is afoot. Can't wait… I love winning all the games my baby tries to play. Except actual games — like Pictionary or Cranium — during which the girl literally sprouts horns. I smell food, I see candles burning and there's baby-makin’ music playing softly. ELO’s “Strange Magic” to be precise; a favorite for both of us, to which we’ve made love countless times. I’m more than willing to add to that tally, and ordinarily, I'd be leaving a trail of my shed clothing as I go hunt her down, but knowing she's mad at me… I'm looking for a rusty, Tetanus-inducing metal, claw-tooth trap with each step I take. “Laney? I'm home.” I throw caution to the wind, announcing my arrival, and what with her keen sense of, well, me, also my approximate location within said home. I brace for the consequences of my mistake, but she doesn’t pop out and pounce. No surprise attack with fists of fury flying. Hmmm. “In the kitchen,” she calls out, seemingly sane, even somewhat jovial. Uh huh — knew it… she's luring me in close to bear the full brunt of her planned fireworks. Well let the show begin baby, because I'm the Goddamn Fire Marshall. She's at the stove cooking, or pretending to, with her back to me… wearing nothing but an apron. As in, I'm currently staring at her very fine, naked ass as it sways to the music. All feisty and feeling clever, under the illusion that since she told me I was “cut off,” I'm just gonna listen and comply to her completely unacceptable terms. Isn't she adorable. “How was your day, dear?” she asks as she glances over her bare shoulder with a cunning grin, knowing damn good and well I'm standing here, hard as steel and gawking. “Good, getting better by the second. Yours?” I play along, speaking calmly as I remove my suit jacket and tie, laying them both over the back of a chair. “Mine was all right. Couple unexpected surprises, but you already knew that. Turned out great through. By the way,” she now spins to face me… the apron is sheer white, providing the perfect blend of teasing allure and provoking outline of what lies beneath. “Are you free September fourth?” “If you need me to be I am. Why?” I arch a single brow, my tone darkening with lust as I undo my belt.
“I don't know what it is you think you're doing there,” she says mockingly, motioning to where I'm pulling the belt through my pant loops, “unless you’re planning to jack-off before dinner. In which case, wash your hands after. But I do need you free that day. It’s when we're getting married.” Shoes and socks — gone. Shirt — off. Pants — unbuttoned. I'll stop there for now. I stalk toward her but she halts my advance by slapping the spatula she's wielding against my chest. “Hold it right there, buster. I wasn't kidding, you aren't getting any dessert tonight. You were amply warned. Deal with it.” She smugly tosses my own verbiage back in my face. “So, the date, you free?” “I'm free.” She fails to hide the tiny shudder my deep, gravelly answer elicits, or perhaps it’s due to the penetrating stare I'm no doubt giving her. “Good,” she says too breathily, spinning back around quickly in an attempt to stay true to her ruse. “You need to ask whoever you want as your Best Man and four groomsmen.” “Done.” I reach beside her and flip the knobs on the stove to “off,” pressing my body against hers. “They've all been on standby for months.” “Great. Could you please back up? I'm trying to cook, and I'd appreciate some room to do so.” Precious — her “serious” voice, betrayed by the flush of her skin and knowing, preparing, rigidity in her posture. I nuzzle my face in her neck and wrap my arms around her waist, tugging her against my erection. “You 'bout done?” I murmur. “With dinner? No. And it'll be done a lot sooner if you leave the stove turned on,” she tries for snippy, instead delivering sensuous defiance. In one perfectly orchestrated move, I have her on the island countertop, flat on her back with me hovering over that delectable, barely-hidden body. Blonde hair fanned out, big brown eyes glazed with desire and a heated blush on her cheeks — fucking mesmerizing. “Dane,” she can't decide whether to whimper, whine or gripe, “dammit! You always do this. Piss me off, then use seduction instead of apology.” “That's not true.” I reach under her and untie the apron, peeling it off her. “I apologize if, and when, I'm sorry.” I slide two greedy hands up her flat, toned stomach and fondle her breasts. “I'm not sorry this time, baby. After all the waiting,” my hands trek back down, pushing her knees up and out, spreading her open for me. “I now know the exact day you will become my wife. No way in Hell I'm apologizing for that. But, I know today was probably stressful, not your thing, so I will be happy to take the edge off for you.” I wink and boast my cocky grin before burying my face between her legs. Soaked. She can keep the Monopoly trophies. This game… I win every fucking time. She instantly forgets any protest, pelvis arching up for more as she writhes under my ministrations. I replace my tongue with two fingers, slow and steady, unlike my voice. “Eyes open, Laney, let me see you.” Her droopy lids battle, but she wins, gazing up at me with a sexy, sated smile. “We good now, baby?”
“I am,” she purrs. “Almost.” “That so?” I work her throbbing clit with my thumb, plunging two fingers inside her roughly. Just as she starts to clench around them and her begging sounds become actual pleas, I stop. Everything. “It's too bad you're still mad at me, despite the fact that anything I ever do is because I love you. My only motive, ever; my love for you.” I click my tongue and shake my head, adjusting my tone to a deceptively calm octave. “I can see how badly you need to relax; come on my face, take my dick, then maybe a nice, long bubble bath. And I want to take care of you, always. But I understand, you're upset.” “Oh, for God's sake! There's nobody here to hand you a damn Oscar, you ass! You win, we're good. Now get your mouth back on me!” she pants, with a touch of lethal hiss. “And then?” I cock one victorious brow. “And then, fuck me, Dane.” “There's my baby,” I growl and dip my head. After all, her wish is my command.
EVERYTHING'S COMING TOGETHER, I assume. Whitley calls me at least three times a day to authorize, then
send a payment to, someone or somewhere for something. And my guys are ready to go: my brother Tate’s of course my Best Man, then Evan, Sawyer, Zach and Andy as groomsmen. Sawyer was ass-hurt Evan was before him in line, and even after I drew him a diagram, no shit, to show him that Evan would be walking with Whitley and he with Emmett… the dumbass still moped around like the pussbag I've repeatedly told everyone he's always been — which is the only reason I insanely agreed he could be in charge of the bachelor party. Fucker perked right up then. Whadda know. But, as we all sit around my dinner table tonight, he's started to lose some of his “pep” … 'cause the women are talking wedding, including the ground rules. And Tate, Evan, Zach and myself aren't helping Saw out one bit, because none of us wanna lose our women… or spend a night in jail. “How the fuck am I supposed to throw a bachelor party without strippers?” Sawyer yells, banging a fist on the table. “Easy, don't call any!” Laney throws a dinner roll at his head. “Zach, you want strippers there too, right?” Saw begs the only single man for help. “Excuse me, Zach.” Emmett smiles at him to apologize for stealing his turn I doubt he wanted, then flings daggers at Sawyer. “Too? What does that mean, sweetie?” She did not mean “sweetie.” Do not answer her, Beckett. He answers her. Every woman leans in for a bird's eye view, every guy dropping our heads in pity for the poor, dumb bastard. “Ah, Emmy, I wouldn't touch any of 'em. You know that. But it's a bachelor party.
You gotta have tits and ass there. Maybe a few peeks of pussy, depending on budget, of course.” “Sure, yeah, of course.” She nods her head and concurs with a sarcasm so dry my eyes start to itch. “Ladies, I say in the spirit of pre-wedding traditions, we go check out this male review in Atlanta that I’ve heard about.” “Um.” Whitley's face scrunches. “Em, that's a lot of traveling for some of the people attending. With only a few weekends to spare, and Hayden having the triplets, we probably need to keep all events close together — time and distant wise.” Bennett quickly leans over and whispers in her ear while all the guys but Sawyer cover our grins. Whitley's blue eyes widen and she squares her shoulders, determined to pull this off. “Never mind, I was, uh, thinking of some other wedding. That sounds like a great idea, Emmett.” Laney rolls her eyes and palms her forehead. Bennett gives Whit a “good try” pat on the back and Evan laughs out, “you're so precious, pretty girl.” But even with all that… Beckett, in his own world as usual, misses the plot and jumps out of his chair. “Like hell you will! And just where in the fuck did you hear about a male review, Shorty?” He roars. “Seriously, should we maybe help him?” Tate murmurs lowly. “Absolutely not,” I say right out loud… ’cause Sawyer's not listening anyway. “Emmy, quit fucking around, babe. You're not going, and who are these jezebels filling your sweet lil' head with such shit?” “Enough!” Uh oh, Disney's out of her chair now too. “Should we stop her?” Tate again mumbles. “Hell no.” I fold my hands behind my head and lean back, getting comfortable for the show. Love to watch my baby go to work — sassy, spunky and sexy as fuck. “Sawyer Landon Beckett, you cannot possibly be that dense! I love you, I'd give you an internal organ if you needed one, but I'm about to come across this table and smack the stupid outta ya! Emmett was making it up, to prove a point that obviously missed its mark. There is no male review. Well, I'm sure there is somewhere, but not one that any of us know about. Why the hell would I need to look at a male stripper? Have you seen my man?” “Thank you, baby,” I reach over and swat her ass. “You're welcome, now hush. Sawyer, Emmett knew you wouldn't like her watching strippers, so she said that so you'd realize it's not fair for you to watch them either! You with me now, big guy?” “So, no strippers?” He asks Em, sincerely needing confirmation. “No, sweetie. No strippers.” She smiles sweetly, never-ending patience in her eyes. “And you have no jezebel influences?” Everyone wants to sigh, or laugh, but Crew rule: we accept him “as is” and let him get there himself. “Also a no.” She can't tame the curl at the corners of her mouth. “How about you? No strippers?” “Yes, but only one. You.” He reaches across the table and hoists her up and over it, sitting back down
with her now in his lap. “Will you braid your hair and do the lil’ skipping thing for me tonight?” “I'll see what I can do,” she snickers and kisses him. “Just to recap.” Whitley raises her hand and waves it to get everyone's attention. “And don’t worry, I've sent an agenda to all your emails. The wedding is at one p.m., on September fourth, at Weaver Gardens. We arrive on the second, bachelor and bachelorette parties, minus any dancers or naked people, are to be held that night, and the rehearsal dinner’s on the evening of the third. Daney, oops,” she giggles, “I mean Dane and Laney, will be in the Lodge and Spa Presidential Suite and the rest of us in the Mountain Villas, both on the venue premises. I’ll bring everyone's dresses and tuxes. Any questions?” We all wait for Beckett to ask his questions, but none come… he's too busy trying to smother himself in Emmett's neck. “I'd like to propose a toast.” I stand and lift my glass. “First, to Laney of course, for making me the luckiest bastard alive and finally agreeing to marry me. To the best damn Crew a guy could ask for, thank you all for clearing your schedules and supporting us on our big day. It wouldn’t be the same without you there. And last, but nowhere near least, to Whitley; the most helpful, generous person we know and one helluva wedding planner.” A round of “cheers” and clinking glasses ensues, we finish our meal and eventually, everyone heads home. And Laney, holds on tight as I throw her over my shoulder and beeline for our bed.
Chapter Four
Laney
TIME IS A curious thing; an entity of endless variables—definite but undefined, speeding by one as it drags
past another, infinite for all…and yet, for no one. When I need or want time to pass slowly, moments are gone in a flash. Like now, for example. It feels as though Dane only just asked me to marry him, but here we are… the day of our wedding upon us. During the pre-commotion; showers, fittings, tastings, the bachelorette party and everything else Whitley dragged me to, none of it seemed real. Not really for me. Not really because I, was in fact, getting married. And definitely not really going by so fast. Until now. This feels… surreal. As I stand in my gown, staring in the full-length mirror, I scarcely recognize the person gazing back at me. That blonde is no ball-playing, scared, eighteen-year-old tomboy, still unsure of who she is, or will be. No. The reflection I see is that of a full-grown woman; confident in herself, her goals, friends and future. A future that will undoubtedly, always include the once-in-a-lifetime kind of love she has with the amazing man awaiting her hand today. A bond so intense and unbreakable, she knows it will last far beyond this life. “You're beautiful, angel girl.” My mom comes to stand behind me, both hands on my shoulders as she speaks to the woman in the glass — the fully emerged Laney Jo Walker. Very soon to be Kendrick. “Thank you, Mama.” I smile, blinking back happy tears. “I'm so glad you're here. You know, I imagined us sharing a moment exactly like this too many times to count. Another absolutely wonderful blessing in my life, totally worth waiting for.” “I'm just grateful I could be here, and having a good day, so I'll remember it. And on days I don’t, promise me, you’ll tell me the story?” “As many times as you want,” my voice thick with a held sob. “Good. Now, before we both start crying, your father and I have something for you. Jefferson?” “It time?” My dad stands and walks over — yes, he should be in with the guys, but since, because of
Dane's heroic efforts, we've gotten my mom's condition under control and her lucidity is present more often than not — she and my dad are now best friends. And accordingly, he never strays too far from her. Plus, I'm glad he's in here with me. “Whitley?” He looks around the suite nervously for her, and upon hearing her name, out she pops! “Sir?” “What'd I tell ya about that fancy crap?” He grouches at her playfully. “You call me 'Jeff,' or don't call me at all.” “Yes, si-, I mean Jeff. What can I help you with?” “Trish and I are ready to give Slugger our thing.” “Oh, okay.” Whit's eyes flare with panic, my dad no doubt throwing her “off schedule.” But she's a true sweetheart, never disrespectful, and goes with it. “Give me just a minute to gather everyone and we'll go ahead and do them all now. Is that all right?” “Be fine.” Dad nods. “Go for Sawyer. I repeat, if he's still insisting on his part, go for Sawyer,” Whitley dictates into her earpiece/cord/mic doohickey that she loves. Trust me, she may buy everyone in the Crew one and try to convince us to communicate that way from here on out. Doubt it’ll catch on though, considering the fact that her man can barely make it through a group text without going insane. “Ladies!” Whit claps her hands sharply, quieting the chatter. “We're about to do 'the somethings,' as soon as Sawyer gets here.” The somethings? What the hell does that mean? Before I can ask, Sawyer comes busting through the door. “I'm ready!” His eyes find Emmett. “Or maybe not. Damn, Shorty, nice dress. Can I, uh, speak to you in private?” “Thank you, handsome,” Em giggles, moving toward him, but is promptly thwarted by a stiff-arm interception from Whitley. “You're both kidding me, right? Laney's parents are in the room, and,” her volume hits fever pitch, “we have a wedding, not yours, happening! At a scheduled time!” “Never mind now,” Sawyer gripes. “You and that damn voice, I've gone and lost that lovin' feeling anyway. Thanks for that, Whit.” “Ahem.” My dad clears his throat. “We'll go first. Trish, you do the honors.” He hands her a small box. “Um, Mr. Walker,” Whitley speaks with hushed respect, “can you two please go second, so we stay in traditional order?” “I suppose.” “Thank you.” She sighs loudly in huge relief, as if she just somehow stopped the world from ending. “All right, Bennett, I believe you're up?” Ben walks over and spins me to face her, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Should've known not to take it off, you never do. And rightly so, because it's going right back on. Laney,” she gulps, taking a second to refuse herself any crying, “as your Maid of Honor, I am presenting you with your 'something old.' Your
Disney 'D' necklace, a symbol of where it all started and what you mean to your soon-to-be husband.” She fastens the necklace, that I only removed to appease Whitley and her jewelry/gown ensemble she put together for me, around my neck and I reach up to touch it in reverent thought. Bennett’s right; no matter what, fashion be damned — it belongs right here — always. After a long, tight hug, Ben scoots back and with Whitley's silent motion, my parents step forward. With an iron-grip on his sheen of unfallen tears, Dad puts an arm around my mom's shoulders as she opens the box… to display a beautiful pair of diamond earrings that I know neither of them can easily afford. “Our darling daughter,” Mom chokes out in a weak whisper, “your father and I have always agreed, that despite ourselves, we did one thing absolutely right. Create you. Today, we agree again, that entrusting you and your happiness to Dane Kendrick is more than right. It’s destiny. Jefferson?” “Yeah,” he clears his throat, “what she said, Slugger. Dane's a good man. Maybe even good enough for you. As close as any man could ever come, I figure. Just, well, don't forget to stop by and toss a ball with your old man every once in a while.” “I will, Daddy. Promise.” “All right, I guess you can go on and get married then.” “Laney, these earrings are your 'something new.' We love you, very much,” my mom finishes and gives me a kiss on the cheek for both of them… because Dad's already walked away, pretending to look out the window (while he cries). “I have your 'something borrowed,'” Whitley speaks softly. “From one blonde to another, I get more compliments anytime I wear this, and I knew it’d look beautiful on you. May I?” I nod and she rises up on her tiptoes to slide a diamond hairpin in my loosely-curled locks. “Perfect,” she whispers. “I'd say everyone ended up exactly where they should be, with their person, wouldn't you?” “I sure would,” I sniffle and wrap her in a hug. “Love you, Whit.” “Enough unicorns and puppies shit. Step aside.” Sawyer nudges his way to front and center. “Hey, Gidget.” “Hey, Sawyer.” I shake with silent laughter. “You look gorgeous, girl. And you already know I love the hell outta ya, right?” “Yes,” I now snicker aloud. “I love you too, Saw. What is it you have for me?” “Your 'something blue.' Worked real hard on it too.” He hands me a piece of paper and I… I die laughing. Whitley gasps and has to sit down lest she faint. Everyone else just shakes their head in unshocked silence. “Is this-” “A picture of my blue balls? Yes, yes it is,” he answers and shoots his wife a quick frown. “Emmy's ovulating and Daddy’s Princess P has spoiled, only-child written all over her, so my boys have been put on hiatus. They're blue. That's them.” He points to the picture, indeed a pair of very large balls hanging off a stick figure.
“Where is my little princess?” I ask. “Evan's mom put her down for a nap,” Emmett answers, through her hands, shielding her embarrassed face. “And where'd you get a crayon?” I ask Sawyer, 'cause the disproportionate balls are blue. “They got a nursery at this place. Not that my daughter’s getting left in it, but I did scope it out… and stole one.” He boasts proudly. “I'm gonna need you to return it.” “The crayon?” “Yes, Sawyer, the crayon. What else would I possibly mean?” “Can't.” He shrugs. “Pressed too hard, broke it.” “And that's why we can't have nice things,” I tsk. “Can't come inside my wife for the rest of the week either, Gidge. Whose got bigger problems?” “Dear God,” Emmett mumbles her mortification. “Son.” My dad stomps over and not-so-lightly taps Sawyer on the shoulder. “My Slugger loves ya, exactly the way you are, so I'm not angry, but it's time for you to mosey on back with the boys. There’s just certain phrases a man doesn't need to hear on the day his only daughter's getting married. Now get going!” “Yes, sir. Sorry.” Sawyer tucks his tail and heads out. No sooner than he shuts the door behind him, we all hear the commotion. “You can't go in there, jackass. It's like a fucking rule or somethin’! Look, Whitley even put a sign on the door, 'do not come in here, Dane.' That is your name, Dane, right?” Whitley sprints to lock the door, and even props a chair under the knob — she knows my man. “Laney!” Dane yells. “Is it bad luck to talk to him?” I ask Whit quietly, not wanting to break any of her rules. “No, talking is fine. Thank you for asking.” She beams. “What is it, Caveman?” I holler back, with permission. “What's taking so long, baby? I'm ready. Preacher's ready. I'm ready. 'Bout to lose it, love. Let's get married!” “Dane?” My dad barks through the door. “Jeff?” Dane counters. “Who the hell else would it be, boy? Yes, it's Jeff. Take your ass to the spot where you're supposed to stand and I'll bring my daughter to you when she's damn good and ready. You hear me?” “I'm gonna need an ETA before I can agree to that.” My man backs down to no one when it comes to me… and I love it. My father casts wide eyes my way, a glint of humor in them. “Slugger, you sure about this one? Awful impatient, and bossy. I got the car runnin' in the parking lot. We can say 'forget it' and climb through the window, be outta here before he even knows we're gone. Just say the word, honey.”
I giggle, sniffle and feel my heart swell all at the same time. The greatest day ever. Surrounded by the greatest people ever. “I adore him, Daddy. I’m not going anywhere. Tell him it’ll be less than twenty minutes. Whitley,” I turn to her, “let's do this. My native’s gettin' restless.” “Da-” “I heard, sir. I'm heading to my spot, see you in less than twenty minutes. Time starts now. And, I would’ve caught ya halfway out the window, just for future reference. Come to me, Disney. I'll be waiting.”
Chapter Five
Dane
AS SHE WALKS toward me, a vision incarnate of all I've ever needed or wanted, my eyes capture and hold
hers, silently telling her of my undying love and admiration, while my mind travels back to the beginning of our journey… reminding me of how I, we, got to this exact moment. 'Hey. I'm Dane. Nice to meet you both.' I'd said “both.” I was talking to Laney, and only Laney. 'Laney… Walker, nice to meet you, Dane.' Right then, I knew, something big, different and undeniable was happening. That I better pay attention, because my every sense noticed and was drawn to her on a level the likes of which I'd never experienced. And I was sure I’d never experience again. She'd dragged Bennett to the bathroom to insist she pull her shit together, yes, we could hear their every “whisper,” then emerged, and spoke directly to me, as if no one else existed, in my language. 'Soooo love this song.' 'Oh yeah, what's it called?' I'd asked. '“End of All Time.”' 'Very nice.' That was it. Mine. At any and all costs. And now, she stands just inches from me, in wedding white — ready to willingly complete me, forever. “Who gives this woman to be married?” the preacher asks. “Her mother says she and I do, but you do anything wrong,” Jeff Walker shrinks me on the spot with a lethal glare of promise, “and I will take her back.” “Of course,” I nod. He lets out a defeated sigh and places her hand in mine.
I squeeze it and give her a wink. “Ready, baby?” “More than,” she whispers, seizing my heart all over again. I simply stare at her, taking in every nuance that makes her who she is, while the preacher drones about whatever the hell he's saying… until it's time for our vows. I'm up first, and wrote them in “Laney Talk” so she'll be sure to absorb their full, unfathomable gravity. “Once upon a time, there was an ordinary guy, meandering through a mundane life, unaware that fairy tales could come true.” She's already crying, her penchant for such stories, and my penchant for her, tugging at her whimsical heart. “Until one day, a feisty, witty, funny, gorgeous princess with locks the color of the sun and eyes of coffee, the flavor of which she likes in ice cream and candy but not the actual drink,” she laughs mildly, “walked in the room, awakening every dormant feeling within this not so ordinary guy, rather a prince, finally called upon to fulfill his destiny — to love, and cherish this princess. To believe in magic. To rescue, and be rescued. She challenged him physically,” I groan, earning a small wave of laughter from our audience, “mentally, musically, and creatively. How to woo her, he asked himself. Make her see that she was his 'one.' Constantly coming up with new ways to surprise, delight and show her he’d stop at nothing to make her his. Which I plan to do forever, because… I’m addicted to that smile. Laney, you are the most beautiful, fascinating, mesmerizing woman in all the land, and I am, and will be, madly, endlessly in love with you for the rest of my life. My baby. My Disney. My Wife. I begin and end, with you.” “Laney?” The minister prompts her. Out of my periphery, I see Whitley do some awkward hand gestures — looks like Laney taught her how to signal a batter to bunt — and softly, our song, “Collide” by Howie Day begins to play. “Michael Dane Kendrick, my Caveman, we definitely collided, with a forceful impact from which I haven't, nor do I ever wish to, recover. I thought Jerry Maguire was scattered and boring, but, you did, in fact, have me at hello.” The onlookers laugh again. “I didn't plan on you, and honestly, it took me a while to realize the depth of what I felt for you and what it meant. Our immediate, overwhelming connection was so powerful, I couldn't believe it was real, that such a love could actually exist. You bring out parts of me that only come alive for you. And I love them, almost as much as I love you. I am yours, completely, and you are mine,” she growls with a coy grin, stealing my line, “forever.” When the man with the Bible says I can kiss her — as if I need his permission — I do so like nobody's watching, especially her parents. And when I’ve tasted my fill, for now, we walk hand in hand back down the aisle as man and wife, “Collide” playing louder. The second we make it out of the sanctuary, cathedral… whatever it's called, I scoop her up in my arms and speed my steps to double-time. “Babe, what are you doing?” She giggles. “Starting our wedding night.” “Caveman, stop running and put me down.”
“Why?” She laughs heartily now, head tossed back, squirming to get out of my arms. “First of all, it's the middle of the afternoon. Far from our wedding night. See that big, bright thing in the sky?” She points. “That's the sun, best known for appearing during the day. And, our Crew and family are waiting to do the procession, walk through their line of sparklers thing, then we have a reception. So again, put me down.” “How about this, we—” “Nope.” She cuts me off and shakes her head. “We are not sneaking off for a quickie.” My baby knows me so well — exactly what I was gonna say. “People are waiting, and no way in hell am I tainting the magic that is my one wedding night ever with a quickie, Dane Kendrick!”
OUR FIRST DANCE is to “This Year's Love” by David Gray — another song with special meaning and
memory for us — I played it for Laney at one of her birthday parties; the first one I ever celebrated with her. I bury my face in her sweet, soft neck and slowly twirl my amazing wife around the floor. “God, Laney, I sometimes can't believe just how much I love you.” “I love you too, babe, more.” All too soon, the song ends and Whitley starts “directing” again. We sit for dinner and it isn’t long before Tate clinks a fork against his glass, standing with mic in hand. “I know I'm supposed to give my toast first, but I think it's only fitting that I pass the torch to the bodacious Bennett, she's with me fellas, since Dane and Laney met because of her. For it was Bennett who forcefully dragged Laney to the “Hall Crawl” where the two of them collided, all those years ago.” “Thank you, Taterbear,” Ben coos and rises from her seat, giving a toast that has us all laughing, reminiscing… and every woman in the room crying by the end. And then… Armageddon unfolds, too quickly for anyone to stop it. Yes, Sawyer Beckett grabs the microphone. “Since all their boring asses put the kibosh on a decent bachelor party and stuck me with a night of poker and beer, too much fuckin’ fun I tell ya, seriously, we didn’t even use cards with naked chicks on ‘em, I'm giving a toast too.” “Who thinks this is a really bad idea? Raise your hand,” Whitley pleads with the entire room… every single person in it raising their hand. Except Jeff Walker, who's already ushering a worn-out, fragile, does not need to hear this, Trish toward the exit, to put her to bed no doubt. “Put your damn hands down, rude,” Sawyer booms into the mic. “And Whit, I can hear you when you talk out loud. I have feelings too. Emmy, those feelings include a strong inkling that we should—” “Beckett!” I scream to stop him. “Tread easy, bud. No ruining my wife's special day or I will sedate
you.” “What did I just say about having feelings, fucker? Geez. Anyway, for those of you who don't know me, well, you probably shouldn't even be here. But they already let you in, so, I'm Sawyer Beckett. I'm the proud husband of the hot brunette holding my wonderfully-behaved baby girl, and the best friend of Daney and Gidget. That’s them,” he feels the need to point us out, “Dane and Laney, which again, you shouldn’t be here if you didn’t know that. Dane and I go way back and kind of saved each other from ourselves. Look at us now, man, two of the luckiest bastards in the world. Thank you, for getting here with me, bringing me along. I love and owe you, pretty boy. And Gidget,” he chuckles and flashes her an adoring smile. “Oh, my Gidget. This blonde busts on the scene, threatening to beat people with her bat, wearing the most unsexy pajamas I've ever seen, asking bullshit, PG-rated trivia questions, whippin' everyone's ass in beer pong and every other game we play and always trying to tell me how to raise my kid. Needless to say, I was instantly in love with my new friend for life, a total badass. So, I would have to say, I can't think of another person I'd have chosen for either of you to be with forever. You're a damn perfect match. Love you both, cheers.” It takes us all a second to comprehend that he's finished, with no one harmed or mentally scarred for life in the process, and slowly raise our glasses with him. “Da,” baby Presley sweetly babbles, reaching for him. “See? My kid knows a good speech when she hears one. Everyone else, quit looking shocked and eat. Dane's ready to cart Laney off and get to the good shit.” There we go. Now he's done with his speech. The rest of the reception takes longer than I'd like, but Laney’s having a great time, talking and dancing… so I drudge up patience from where, I have no idea. Finally, when the girls have done every group dance ever invented, my wife finds me… and my ear. “You can take me to start our wedding night now, Caveman.” We're out the door before she's even done talking, taking the stairs two at a time because the elevator's slow as fuck. I carry her over the threshold of the suite and gently lay her on the bed then go back to hang the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door before shutting and locking it. I turn, my baby splayed out in a big, puffy cloud of white and take my first, full deep breath of the day. “You're my wife.” I confirm with a propriety that corrupts the air around us, putting it out into the universe so there’s never any doubt. “I am,” she purrs and holds out her arms. “And I want my husband to come love me, soft and slow.”
Chapter Six
Dane
“BABY, ‘BOUT TO lose my shit,” I growl in fevered impatience, about to start ripping my way through the
eighty fucking layers of dress keeping me from her pussy. “If you're not naked in ten seconds, I'm grabbing a pair of scissors to cut this fucker off you.” “Settle down.” She stands up and turns her back to me. “You unzip me. I'll take care of this.” She reaches under her dress, pulling out a skirt lookin' thing, throwing it across the room. Then another. And something else. “Almost done.” “I would hope to hell so. Jesus, you're a walkin' fucking magic trick!” She slips the dress off her shoulders and steps out of the mountainous pool at her feet, leaving her in all white lace — strapless bra, stockings, garter and a thong. This I can work with, and move to do so. “Nuh uh.” She puts a hand to my chest and shuffles a step back. “You're too worked up. Let me, you'll rip it.” Slowly, she strips for me, laying each item carefully aside. When she's completely naked, and I'm borderline insane with lust, she mewls, “your turn.” With agile hands, my woman undresses me, on her hands and knees when finished. She leans in to take me in her mouth, but it's me that stops her this time. “I'm too on edge, baby. I’ll come down your throat in second. Get back on the bed.” “No.” She aims a cunning smile up at me. “What do you mean 'no?'” “If my mouth will set you off that fast, what do you think my pussy will do? I want tonight to last; slow, endless, sweet lovemaking. So let me suck you off, then you'll be ready to go longer.” If a man exists that would argue that logic, he sure the hell isn't me. “You want to suck it first?” I ask in smug virility as I rub the tip along her bottom lip. “Tell me, baby. You dying to have my cock in your mouth?” I know she wants romance tonight, a soulful, sensuous memory to keep forever in her mental wedding album, and I have every intention of giving it to her — right after we finish the filthy she started. “Yes,” she moans thickly before taking me to the back of her throat in one deep, wet plunge. I dig my fingers in her hair and control the speed, fucking her mouth with fast, brutal thrusts. “So good, Laney. You like your husband's big cock in your mouth, don't you? Take it baby, all of it.”
Her hum of pleasure vibrates around me and I shudder, my balls drawing up tight. “You wanna mouthful of my cum? Yeah, you do. Suck hard baby, swallow me.” I let out a sharp hiss, fisting her hair as I erupt, pumping my hips forward until I'm drained of every thick, hot spurt. “That's my good girl. Now get on the bed and spread your legs for me. I want to nestle between them and give you romantic, worshipping every inch of you all night.” She scurries to obey, lying on her back, arms open and ready to embrace me. “Make love to me, Dane,” her silky plea, hooded eyes, glistening wet core… she's perfection, and I climb on the bed to join her, growing hard again from the mystical sight. But I don't immediately go into her arms, rather scooting her back so I have room to move between her toned thighs, pressing them further apart as I kiss and lick my way up the inside of the sleek flesh, inhaling her wanting scent. I know her flavor just as I know everything about her, but I swear, it always tastes like the first time, an additive burst of ambrosia on my tongue. I cover her slit with my ravenous mouth, lapping up her sweet cream, circling the tip of my tongue over her throbbing clit. A guttural sound of relieved ecstasy escapes her as she finds a firm grip in my hair to force my face down, closer, impossibly intimate, even as she bucks her hips upward. Smothering me in delicious, juicy need. She combusts; crashing over the edge with a pealing, feminine cry as her pussy pulsates against my tongue, lathering my mouth and chin in her savory desire. I bring her down with gradual laves of my tongue, reaching up to softly grope her breasts, until her quivers and tiny, breathless whimpers subside. Sliding my body up hers, making sure every part of me, dewy with a light sheen of sweat, brushes enticingly against every part of her, I descend upon and devour her mouth; sharing her sweetness with her. Kissing her with a tamed madness, gently commanding her tongue to my will, massaging her lips with the firmness of my own. I swallow her sexy moans and give some back, slinking a hand up her thigh to hitch it around my hip. She writhes beneath me, both legs encircling my waist and her ankles locking together at my back before tilting her pelvis up in invitation. Her slick heat rubs against my cock and my inherit carnality flares within me, forcing me to pull back from the kiss and stare deep into her lust-glazed eyes as my thick, almost unintelligible, vibrato echoes through the room. “Beg me for it, Laney. Tell me exactly what you want.” A wicked gleam flickers in her eyes, but only briefly, before a sentimental sheen takes over and she blinks away happy tears. “I want you deep inside me, my love. I want to feel you everywhere, feel how much you love me too.” Despite my baser instinct to fuck her ruthlessly, own her body, mind and soul with an animalism that leaves her only thought of how my cock controls her… my baby wants tender. So, I tamp down my own selfish restlessness… and give my baby tender. I reverently kiss up her neck as I ease inside her warm, swollen heaven, setting a passionate,
deliberate pace. She moves with and against me, defying odds with the way her body contorts sinuously under my weight, driving me wild. And yet, I take deep, long exhales and hold on fiercely to my own reins, pumping my cock in and out of her in an amorous rhythm, nurturing every internal tremor she gives me. But soon, her feathery mewls adopt a frustrated, bristling edge, and my baby's fondness for, and current lack of, the way I fuck her betrays her “plans,” and her wanton proclivity takes charge. With a surly groan, she drops her legs and pushes on my chest, telling me without words to roll over and let her on top. Fuck yeah… she's back. Wedding night or not, my woman's a Dane-dick, hungry beast—always. A fiery blaze of thirsty greed in her eyes, she flings a leg over and straddles me, raking her nails down my stomach. “I tried,” she husks out and grabs my dick, guiding it to her opening and impaling herself on it in one mind-blowing descent. “And failed,” she pants, bouncing up and down on my cock. “Wanna fuck, always. May think I want soft, but I want us, want it our way, babe.” Braced on my chest and breathing heavily, she swivels and pops her lush, curvy hips, spreading her legs farther apart so her clit meets my skin as she grinds down. I stare up at her, head thrown back, fleshy tits bouncing and noises of ecstasy ripping up her throat — a vision; not just the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen… but artful. My smugness can't be contained as I watch my ornery, willful, lascivious goddess try to find, on her own, what only I can give her. I wait impatiently for what I know is coming. Her. As soon as she surrenders. And… her muscles convulse around my girth, a gush of her warm essence coating me as she starts to tremble… then sighs loudly, opening her eyes to find mine. “Now, Dane, give it to me,” she bosses in a depraved howl. “Grab my hips babe, drive up into me, hard. Fuck. Your. Wife. 'Til I'm screaming for more, dammit. I want it so bad. Marriage didn't kill my Caveman, did it?” She taunts, squeezing me internally. Bratty lil’ vixen. I flip her over with a hoarse roar, trapping both hands above her head in one of mine and push her legs apart with my hips. Around a mouthful of tit, I grunt, “You asked for it; teasing me, questioning me. You, wife, are about to get fucked.” I warn her only seconds before pounding into her savagely. Her walls swell, demanding me deeper inside her. I groan around the breast I'm sucking and release her hands so I can throw her legs over my shoulders. I pull myself upright to ensure she feels the brute force of each thrust, and with a punishing, probably bruising, clamp on her thighs, I ram into my pussy with feral abandon. “This how you like it? Hard, deep cock? Say it,” my demand strained and surly. “Yes,” she wails, walls clenching tighter, wave after wave of flutters rolling through her muscles, begging my dick to fill her. This may be the most grueling sex we've ever had — raunchy, hedonistic, beastly fucking… unbelievable. My balls are drawn up so close to my body it's painful and my primitive instinct to mark
her races up my spine; I need her to get hers… now. So, I do what always ratchets her need to out-of-control levels — I fuck her mentally while pounding her physically. “Whose pussy is this, baby? Whose cock's in you? Tell me, scream it, Laney. Who owns this tight cunt?” She peaks, toppling over in a scorching, wet rush that drenches my cock and drips down my balls. Laney Jo loves dirty talk. But even lost in delirium, she knows better than to not answer me, so through choked gasps of rapture, she says exactly what I want to hear. “My husband's pussy. Only my husband's. He owns it.” I finish in dizzying bursts and a fierce howl, then collapse beside her, tugging her against me so we're one tangled, satiated being. Minutes later, with an exhausted yawn, she repositions herself in the crook of my arm and half across my chest. “I'm so tired. Thank God we're just gonna honeymoon here for a few days.” “You know better than that.” I chuckle, kissing the top of her head. “You're still dick delusional, talking crazy. Baby, we fly out tomorrow afternoon for our real honeymoon.” She lifts her head, wide eyes on mine. “What? Where are we going?” “Hmmm,” I play coy, unable to resist grazing my fingers over her core, rubbing in our combined wetness. Primal. A sign of ownership, and who I am, unapologetically. “Let's see, somewhere fancy, romantic and worthy of the only time you'll ever get a honeymoon, yet, not too fancy and perfectly you. Where is such a place?” Her beautiful face scrunches up in thought, absolutely adorable… and it hits her. And in her excitement, she hits me — a playful swat on my arm. “Are you taking me to Disneyland Paris?” She gasps. I love our connection, an irreplicable dynamic where two halves of the same person fuse into one. “Where else would I take my baby?” “I love you,” she whispers, gently kissing me. “And you, husband, are about to get fucked,” her voice now aggressive. She swiftly initiates her promise, but almost instantly relinquishes control to me, basking in the intensity I give her. Will always give her.
About the Author S.E. HALL, lover of all things anticipation and romance, is the author of The Evolve Series: Emerge,
Embrace, Entangled, Entice, Endure and companion novellas Baby Mama Drama and Guide for Tools Looking to Date My Daughter by character Sawyer Beckett. S.E. also wrote the standalone, Finally Found novels Pretty Instinct and Pretty Remedy and her latest release, standalone, contemporary romance Unstable. Her co-written works include The Provocative Professions Collection: Stirred Up, Packaged and Handled 1&2, One Naughty Night and full-length, standalone novels Matched and Filthy Foreign Exchange with Angela Graham as well as Conspire, a romantic suspense, written with Erin Noelle. S.E. resides in Arkansas with her husband of 20 years and 3 daughters of the home. When not writing or reading, she can be found “enthusiastically cheering” on one of her girls’ softball games. Facebook Twitter Website Amazon Goodreads Instagram Newsletter SE Hall’s Crew
Books by S.E. Hall Evolve Series Emerge (FREE) Embrace Entangled Entice Sawyer Beckett's Baby Mama Drama Guide For Dummies Endure Sawyer Beckett's Guide for Tools Looking to Date My Daughter Full Circle Series Embody Finally Found Novels Pretty Instinct Pretty Remedy Standalone Novels Unstable Co-Written with Erin Noelle Conspire Co-Written with Angela Graham Matched One Naughty Night Stirred Up Packaged Handled Handled 2 Filthy Foreign Exchange Filthy Foreign Exchange 2
Love and Latte
by Sharon Hamilton
Author’s Note EVER WONDERED HOW fast a romance can turn into a true love story you want to never end? There are all
kinds of heroes and heroines, but I submit that one fantasy I think all women have is the idea that they can meet someone and their whole world changes. They can immediately fall in love. And they know it’s right. Why wait if you know it’s right? This is the ultimate short fantasy about throwing caution to the winds and going for that wonderful juice of life. And not being afraid to embrace it. We call it the magic of love. Wouldn’t it be a wonderful world if everyone found this intensity, and their happily ever after? Sharon Hamilton Valentine’s Day 2017
Chapter One CONNOR WOKE UP , remembering it was Valentine’s Day, and once again, he was alone. During his first
four years as a medic on SEAL Team 3, he’d been deployed or doing interim duty somewhere out of town, and had missed the date. And each year he’d had to make his apologies to the girl he was dating, letting her know he’d make it up to her. And he always intended to. But three or four months of deployment, especially some deployments that came up last minute, were difficult for some women to understand. He got it. Sending red roses was no substitute when the ladies compared notes and romantic details with their girlfriends who had boyfriends at home. The married guys had a better time of it, but still there were some major heartbreaks and divorces that occurred while away. Some of the guys were not saints, either, finding comfort where it was to be had. Some of the ladies found being alone to raise small children, or run a household on a limited budget, wasn’t as sexy as it seemed at first. But Connor had never cheated on anyone. He was careful with his affections. He respected women and loved being around them. And this year, instead of being deployed, he was at home and fully available. That just plain sucked. Grady, Jake and several of the other bachelors were going out to a strip club where they could drown their sorrows on recent breakups. Connor knew that was looking for love in all the wrong places, but it beat being alone and lonely. His first phone call of the day was from his mom. It just couldn’t get much worse. “Connor, just calling to tell you how much I love you, son, how proud I am.” “Thanks, Ma.” He knew there was a reason for her call and waited for it. “So, any special plans with any special someone?” His mother should have been wearing a sign around her neck, “Will do anything for grandkids.” His younger sister was still in high school so his mom had set her early scouting prospects on him. “I don’t lack for girlfriends, you know that,” he lied. “I’m just waiting for the special one.” “Well, I’m glad you’re being choosey. But remember, you wait too long and you’ll talk yourself right out of settling down.” He was embarrassed, and so would never admit, that he’d felt he was ready for the whole thing. The ring, marriage, kids, being a devoted family man. He just needed to find the girl who believed in him enough to give him the chance. “I have friends who date women you’d never approve. You know, the dancers and leather set. If I
really wanted a date, I’d follow their lead. Now you wouldn’t be happy with that, would you?” She made nice and they signed off. He hated those calls, fending off her questions and trying to convince her he had lots of time and plenty of opportunity. He knew working out would make him feel much better. He called up Forester and they agreed to meet over at Gunny’s for some PT, and then perhaps get a swim somewhere. A new apartment complex had just been completed and that pool was begging for use. The chain link fence was no match for a couple of SEALs who could jump from twelve thousand feet at midnight, or scale a four-story building in less than thirty seconds. The old guys at Gunny’s had more tats than the new SEALs had. And they usually were bigger in the shoulders, too. Their smack talk was embarrassing, and Connor and Forester rolled their eyes at some of the things they said. Older guys hadn’t seen the action like the SEALs since Desert Storm were. It was only recently that all the instructors at BUD/S also had combat experience. These pussies were trained by pussies. But Connor and Forester made nice with them and let them show off their bravado. Besides, most of them retired without much of a pension, were working on their third or fourth wives and lived vicariously by working out beside men who had seen it all. Probably seen too much. “Hey, Foreskin,” Doc Brown shouted. “Let me know your restaurant plans so I can crash your party and she can go home with a real man.” Doc was a local retired chiropractor, but he liked to tell the girls he was a Doctor of Sex and had business cards printed with that very logo on them. Connor decided to stand up for his friend. “You couldn’t go there on account they don’t let you take your teeth out at the dinner table. They got real white linen tablecloths.” Brown threw his barbells down, which was the custom. They harmlessly clanged together, bouncing on the thick rubber mat beneath all the equipment in the gym. “Asswipe,” Forester whispered to Connor. “Connor, you know why you aren’t married yet?” asked another of Doc Brown’s companions. Connor threw his white training towel over his shoulder and stood up to receive the insult. He already knew the answer and was thinking of a comeback. “Because no woman has decided to marry you yet.” “Gee, that’s real funny,” answered Connor. “Here I thought I was better off, getting’ it for free, but you old farts have to put a ring on it before you can poke your pecker in the pond. Get my meaning?” Forester laughed and added his wit. “Yea, you get medals for being married over four times? Shit, I’ll bet if you didn’t have those your fuckin’ dress whites would be naked, man.” And so with the insults thrown, answered and lobbed back, the morning had turned out about as perfect as it could have. As they strolled down the San Diego strand, both Team Guys put their identical shades on exactly the same way, and at the same time.
“Well now that we’ve done the healthy thing, how about some Gelato?” Conner asked his friend. “Sounds perfect. I was going to suggest a latte,” barked Forester. “How about you pay for that, and I’ll pay for the ice cream.” Forester stopped and briefly removed his glasses, peering over the tops while he answered, “You said Gelato. That’s more expensive. Otherwise you get the ten cent cup from the taco truck.” The message being delivered, Forester repositioned his glasses and continued to waltz down the sidewalk toward the upscale candy and Italian Ice shop. “You fuckin’ cheapskate,” he said to Connor while he pushed open the glass door, tinkling the bell overhead. Two lovelies were eyeing them from the corner, wearing cutoffs they had no business wearing outside of a bedroom, low-cut sleeveless tops and painted toes. Connor reached behind Forester and squeezed his butt, then kissed his cheek. “Fuck you!” his buddy screamed, embarrassed. The girls scurried away. The heavyset Latina behind the counter gave them the death stare. “You think the whole world owes you because you are some of Navy’s finest?” she said in Spanglish. “Tough guys, huh? How you like to go a round with me?” She held up a long plastic back scratcher, which was attached to a set of bathroom keys. Connor ignored her, ordered his Gelato and a double one for Forester and left the woman twenty dollars. “So, you in for tonight over at the Pussycat?” Forrester asked. “Not on your life. First of all, the drinks are expensive. Second, why dream about someone you’d have to scrub down first with disinfectant?” “So I guess you’re pretty much screwed as far as a good time tonight.” “I was hoping for the screwed part of that. Fact is, it’s my own damn fault. Haven’t been putting in the time. We’ve been training for our workup, and I just haven’t focused on it.” Forrester let that one stand. “First time in my life I don’t have a date for Valentine’s. I’ve lived with worse.” “And you’re not going on your third wife with your fourth kid,” Forrester added, slapping Connor’s back. “Some would say that’s a victory. Not that I have anything against kids or wives, but too many of each is a problem.” “Roger that.” Connor deposited the rest of his Gelato into the garbage. “I think I’m going to head over to the bookstore, if you don’t mind. I’ll catch you later on that espresso, okay? “No problem. I’m going to go get my car washed,” responded Forrester. The bookstore was nearly deserted, but it was a Tuesday. He wandered through the shelves of new releases and found the book he was looking for, written by a former SEAL. He found two others, purchased all three and then headed over to the coffee shop attached to sit down with a latte, hoping to
start one of them. Focusing on what he did do well helped take away the cobwebs of loves and loves lost. He made his order, waiting in a longer line than usual. But, the day was kind of overcast, so coffee was selling well. The lady in front of him ordered her latté the same way he liked it: the 20 oz. with two add shots. No sense going through life at half speed. She lay her book down on the counter as she selected some nuts and selected a sandwich. He couldn’t help but see the golden Navy SEAL Trident prominently displayed on the cover and the spine of the book. But what really caught his eye was the naked torso of a guy he didn’t think looked like a real SEAL. At least not the ones he hung around. He angled his head to study the picture further and she caught him. Their eyes connected and he had to give her some explanation. “Just looking to see what kind of training manual that was, but when I saw that guy, I just realized it probably wasn’t about SEALs.” She had a fresh face, pale skin, which was a rarity in San Diego, auburn hair that matched her warm, chocolate brownie eyes. He immediately liked the way those eyes smiled. Looking down and fingering the Trident, she sighed. “No, this is a romance. My favorite author writes several of these a year. All about fictional heroes, you know.” He wiggled his eyebrows. He knew a little about that. Not fictional ones, of course. The barista gave her back her card and she stepped back. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said and smiled to her. He could tell she knew it, because the ends of her lips turned up in that cute little pucker he liked. She was easy to talk to, and easier still on the eyes. Not that it was what he was looking for, of course. It was the same story he told himself several times a day. She sat on a wooden church pew-style bench and crossed her legs, opening the book. He took a place next to her, but left a more than safe space between them. “So what are you reading?” she asked, examining his bag neatly tucked on his lap. “Management stuff.” “Well, I showed you mine, show me yours.” Her eyes danced and he decided he’d get into the play and just see where it led. “You know, that’s a very interesting question. Now that I know what you’re into, I guess it would be safe to show you mine. But don’t judge me too harshly, okay?” “Why, you have some biker chick stuff or auto mechanic books?” He set the bag on his opposite side and gave her a steady look. She had guts, which was nice, but he wasn’t into women who put men down, and he had to check out what she meant. Unlike some of his friends, it was what was between her ears that was more important to him, than other places. “What’s wrong with scantily clad biker chicks?” he asked. “And don’t you think knowing how to get a motor purring is an important, if not heroic skill?” If she took it the wrong way, or had any offense in her demeanor, he was going to be gracefully out of there. With what he did every day, he wasn’t into complicated or women with issues.
She took awhile to answer him and was obviously deep in thought because she didn’t hear her name being called. “Emily?” the barista repeated. “Are you Emily?” he asked. She blinked twice, and then it registered her coffee was ready. “Last time I checked.” She got to her feet and he decided now was the time to look. What he saw blew his mind. She had on a red dress, cinched at the waist, revealing a perfect pair of shapely legs, covering a heart-shaped ass that said Valentine. If she could admire the cover of a book with some hunky guy on it, he could certainly take that long look while she was turned away from him. Picking up her coffee, she turned and, once again, caught him staring at her, so he quickly examined his shoes. He was surprised she took back her seat. “So now you have my attention. You know my name and what I read. I’d like to see if my hunch is right.” She nodded at the book package. “What’s in the bag?” He pulled out the three books, slowly. It was revealing a part of himself he never was comfortable with. He’d tell ladies he was in the Navy, or on some occasions he’d say he was a UPS driver. But he never revealed anything about being a SEAL. So this was an experiment in either good judgment or bad judgment. He laid the books on his lap. The first one, SEAL Team Leadership Skills, he placed between on the bench. Then he added the book on mindset, written by one of his former Team Guy friends. The last book, Raising Men, with a picture of a man with a young son holding hands, staring at the ocean together, was laid on top. He took a long time to glance back up to her face, because he had to take a detour, looking at her red fingernail polish with sparkles, the way her thigh crossed over her other thigh, bouncing her shoe casually. Then he noticed her slim waist, and the nice bulging curve on her chest, before he got to her long neck. Her mouth was left in a slight open position. Something inside him shifted as he realized she was actually surprised. Their eyes met. Did she know he had undressed in front of her in the most dangerous way? Watching her smiling eyes twinkle and return that spark he felt, his next thought was don’t screw this up. She broke eye contact first. Her breathing was amped and he smelled her perfume. “Well, I’m actually impressed. I mean, I didn’t take you for management.” She glanced at his shoulders and her gaze traveled down his biceps to the veined fingers of his hands folded in his lap. As an after thought, she added, “Not that I mean that’s bad or anything.” “No offense taken,” he whispered. She held her book up just as his name was being called. “Hold that thought,” he said as he picked up his drink, then sat back down and held up his cup. “To being impressed.” Their cups touched. “I’ll drink to that,” she said and angled her head back. He was distracted with the
way her long slender neck arched while she took a satisfying swallow. “You were saying?” he pointed to the book. “So, this is you?” she whispered. “No. Not me. I don’t wax.” She nodded and smiled. “But otherwise, this is you, this is what you do? Or something similar?” Again, their eyes met. Trust me, sweetheart. I’m the real deal. Not some actor or a model. “Well, if I told you, then I’d have to kill you.” They chuckled together and the tension was cut, which was a good thing, because he was getting pretty amped up. Only one place for that to be safe, and it wasn’t here, in a bookstore, in front of a room full of strangers. “Well, I’m on my break. It was lovely to meet you,” she said, standing, extending her hand. He got to his feet and slid his hand into hers, the V between his thumb and forefinger plunging hard against hers. And she didn’t shrink back. Her hand remained firm as they shook. “I’m Connor, and I feel like this is my lucky day, Emily. Thank you for spending a few minutes with me.” She blushed and that was all he needed. “I’ve got to get back to work,” she said pointing to the store. He watched her turn and walk away, disappearing behind the bookshelves. Letting her go was one of the hardest things for him to do.
Chapter Two EMILY STASHED THE book behind the counter and took several glances over the store, hoping she’d catch a
glimpse of the handsome SEAL. It had been some time since she’d had such a physical reaction to the sound of someone’s voice, their eyes, and the quiet power of a man who was all man and not afraid to show it. It left her feeling vulnerable and aching, and she loved the way her heart raced. Her all too-recent breakup with Dan had left some rough edges. They had agreed to remain friends but that wasn’t happening either. But it did make her wear a red dress today, on Valentine’s Day. She wanted to look like someone hard to walk away from. Dan had promised they’d get together for a drink after work, but said he’d call to confirm. She’d never intended to be standing behind the counter, looking for someone else. At last, she took a quick peek at the coffee shop and saw him standing at the entrance to the store, staring right back at her, with his bag of books on his hip and his coffee in his other hand. He was just watching her. She had to glance back down as she waited on several customers in a row. When she had the chance to take another search the coffee shop, he was gone. Emily wasn’t going to be obvious by searching the store, but that’s what she wanted to do. So, when she heard the sound of his voice again a shiver of excitement traveled down her spine. She knew her chest would be blotchy and her breathing became short. He was leaning on the counter, looking more handsome than he had a right to. “I was thinking, someone like you probably has plans tonight. But I couldn’t leave the store without asking. I’d like to take you to dinner.” There it was. Not saying, “Would you like to go?” It was more confident than that, like saying, “I’m this. Can you handle it?” And that’s exactly what she wanted to hear. “I’d like that very much. Connor.” He stood up, removing his massive arms from the countertop. He was even taller than she’d realized just seconds before. “So how should we do this?” “I can meet you somewhere downtown. I get off at 5.” His smile made her blush. After studying her face, he responded, “That’s not how I do it.” She swallowed. Here it comes. There was going to be something important about what he said next. What she said next. The whole world was beginning to spin out of control. Just ten minutes before she’d been someone else. And now she felt like she’d never be the same again. But this was what she lived for. It was what she
read in all her favorite books. It was what she dreamed about, what she told herself on all the lonely nights she pretended she was just fine walking through the day to day stuff of life. In ten minutes he had shown her that she was ready to be knocked off her feet. Don’t be disappointed. It doesn’t really happen like in my books. But the other side of her self was shouting, “Oh yes it does!” “If you trust me, I’d like to pick you up. I’d like to take you to dinner, like on a real date.” She inhaled. Now she had to make a decision. He must have sensed it, because he reached back into his pocket and showed her his military I.D. “I don’t own a motorcycle,” he added. She found this amusing. “I didn’t think so. You probably have a truck.” “A Hummer.” “Of course.” She wrote her address on a slip of notepaper, handing it to him. “We’re practically neighbors. You’re in those new apartments. My buddy and I were trying to figure out a way to hang out at the pool. It would require some repelling and such.” “Which probably wouldn’t be a problem, I’d guess,” she said. “Nope. Not a problem at all.” A woman with a stack of books appeared to Connor’s right. “I have to get back to work. Shall we say 6?” she asked. “Perfect.” She watched him exit the store, his jeans were slightly baggy, but well filled out in the thigh and butt area. He didn’t look back at her, which she didn’t expect. It gave her more time to study him. It took several seconds before she realized her woman customer was asking questions. Emily made her repeat everything. The rest of the day felt like the longest one of her life. She mentally picked out her clothes, and then chose them again and again. By the time she made it home, she had no idea what she was going to wear. She turned down an offer from a couple of her girlfriends to do a Girl’s Night Out, and took the lack of call from Dan way better than she thought she would. That made her proud. At six o’clock sharp, Connor buzzed at the gate. Emily took a minute to double check herself in the mirror. She’d picked out a black skinny pair of satin slacks, a white silk big shirt top and a red wool wrap she could wear dozens of ways. She’d done her hair up in red crystal clips on one side, and found the highest pair of black heels she owned. It did make her several inches taller, but judging from his height, he’d still tower over her. Standing in her bedroom, she sprayed her French perfume into the air, and walked through it, then left to meet Connor at the gate.
He was wearing a pair of jeans, with a navy sport coat and a red, white and blue tie, which thrilled her most of all. “Wow, Emily. You’re kinda blowing my mind here,” he whispered in her ear as he led he to his shiny burgundy Hummer. She watched him travel around the front and noted the interior of the vehicle was spotless. “I like the red, white and blue, Connor. I really do.” “Yup. Sort of goes with the territory, when it comes to me.” He started up the beast and they were off. “Thought you might like Mexican. I know I do.” “Love Mexican. Especially the margaritas.” “One thing about San Diego, we got fantastic Mexican. I’ll take you to my favorite.” At the restaurant, they settled into polite conversation. A Mariachi band came over and serenaded them, and the strawberry margarita was generous in size as well as alcohol content. She felt like she’d have to work to pace herself, so declined a second. “So, you came here for the Teams, then. Where did you grow up?” “North. Little town in California you’ve never heard of. Never lived anywhere else, but now I’m thinking I could go elsewhere after I get out. How about you?” “My Dad was Army and we moved a bunch of times. Lived in Germany for awhile.” “How’d you like the lifestyle?” She hesitated, but then decided she needed to tell him the truth. “I hated it. My dad was gone all the time, my mother was stressed and didn’t care for raising kids and running a household alone. Having to pack and move on her own. Money was always an issue.” She fingered her drink. “And my dad drank a lot. He just wasn’t there enough for me, for my mom, for any of us.” “I’ve certainly seen that.” He searched her face as the waitress brought another basket of chips, since Connor had devoured the first one nearly all by himself. “And I appreciate your honesty.” He dug into the new salsa. “Funny how things work out. I joined the Navy to see the world. I didn’t like being stuck in a little town where everyone knew everyone’s business.” “So you are close to your family, then?” “Going into the Navy was the only way to get away from them. My mom still calls me once a week, I’m somewhat embarrassed to say.” “I’ll bet she worries,” Emily returned. “She’s not very good with all that, I admit, but she’s adjusting.” A couple entered the restaurant, turning heads. She was tall, and Emily recognized her as one of the news anchors on their local television stations. With his arm around her shoulder stood Dan, scanning the room. He stopped when he noticed Emily staring back at him. Whispering something to the blonde, he directed her follow him to Emily and Connor’s table. The fireworks began when Connor stood and address the woman. “Brandi, nice to see you again.”
“Likewise. I—I didn’t know you were back.” She eyed Emily suspiciously, raising her left eyebrow. “Yes, we’re back now about a month.” Turning to Dan, she introduced him to Connor, and then to Emily. “We’ve met,” Dan said coolly. “Hi Dan. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Emily tried to sound cheerful, but the heaviness in the room completely wiped out the giddiness she’d been enjoying just a few minutes before. The couple was shown to another table within eyeshot, but clear across the room. Emily noticed an abrupt change in Connor’s demeanor. “So much for big town San Diego,” she said, hoping it would lighten his mood. “Is he recent?” Connor asked. “Yup.” Emily decided it was a good time to dive into the chips, or she’d start talking too much. That’s not what she wanted to do, and she knew it wasn’t what Connor wanted either. “Pretty girl,” she said instead, but felt a drop of salsa drop onto her white shirt. “Oh damn.” She dabbed it with water and tried to hide her embarrassment. “She works hard at what she does. Part of that is being out in the public, on TV. But we were kind of a lethal combination. Just couldn’t get it right.” He peered across the room and then focused back at Emily’s drink. “Are you sure you don’t want another?” “No. Especially not now.” That was the alcohol talking. But it was still the truth. He raised his eyebrows. “Now?” She was without a tether and needed to get some of her security back. So she did the only thing she could think of. She took Connors hand. “I’m not running away from anything. I just don’t want to spoil a nice start.” His eyes were back on her in a flash and he was completely focused on her. The room faded away. The music, conversation, people walking back and forth were irrelevant. He licked his lips and studied hers. He was still holding her hand, and now started to rub his thumb over her knuckles. “Emily, do you want to go someplace else?” She angled her head and looked at him from the side. “I take that to mean a yes,” he said softly. She nodded but neither of them moved. “May I kiss you?” he asked. “Here?” “Especially here. Right now.” He must have known what she’d say, because he didn’t wait for an answer. His mouth tenderly covered hers. He leaned back in the booth and smiled. “Was that the kind of start you were thinking about earlier?” he whispered. The spark was back. All the stomach flutters came with it, too. Looking at their entwined fingers.
“Maybe it’s because it’s Valentine’s Day. But I’m in sudden need of another kiss.” “No problem. Music to my ears,” he whispered, as he got close. “You like long slow kisses?” “I do,” she whispered back. “Do you like to talk in bed?” “I do.” “Do you talk dirty sometimes?” “When it’s appropriate.” He chuckled, their lips barely touching. “This is leading somewhere.” He kissed her deep and she opened her lips to him, allowing his tongue entry. Squeezing his hand, she answered, “God, Connor, I hope so.” The waitress brought their combination platters. Connor cleared his throat, and pulled Emily up off the booth bench. “We’re just leaving. But I’ll tell you what, go present this to the bar, or that table over there, with our compliments.” He handed the waitress a small wad of bills. The woman was flummoxed, speaking in Spanish to one of the other waitresses. Emily wasn’t paying attention because by then, they were nearly out of the restaurant. It was hard to keep up with him. His determination and long gait were no match for her little chicken steps in high heels she wasn’t used to. The last thing she wanted to do was fall. He had been pulling her, and now stopped. “You need a hand?” “Let me take my shoes off.” “No, I like them right where they are.” He scooped her up with one arm under her knees and the other under her arms and back. Emily touched his cheek, dipped her forefinger over the knot in his tie, loosening it a bit. She leaned against his chest and sighed. At the Hummer, he placed her inside the cab, pulled the seat belt across her lap and then kissed her again. This time she laced her fingers through his hair, pulled him into her, and then allowed him to kiss her under her ear, then down into the cleavage of her big shirt. “You better tell me when to stop.” His hand was under her shirt. “I’m not sure I can think,” she answered. “I have a blanket and a back seat.” She placed her palms at both sides of his face. “Are you for real? Here?” “Anywhere.” She laughed. His eyes were dead serious. “Do you have any more questions first?” She teased. “Do you like to do it in the shower?” “Especially in the shower. In the living room. On the kitchen table.” He groaned, pulling her out of the truck, and directing her into the second seat and then scrambled in next to her and closed the door. “Are you serious about all this?” she giggled. He’d lifted her shirt and his
tongue was finding it’s way into her bra. “Honey, one thing about me is this. I have an off switch and I have an on switch. There isn’t any inbetween speed. All or nothing, darlin’.” God almighty! I’ve died and gone to heaven! “Are you prepared?” she asked. “Are you?” Everything stopped. “No. I—I wasn’t going to do this in the parking lot at dinner.” He leaned back into the seat. “Okay, then.” She took hold of his hand and placed it back under her shirt on her left breast. “Let’s go to my place.” Emily hoped he wouldn’t change his mind on their way back to her apartment. She couldn’t stop giggling to herself, looking over at him. He held her hand as he shifted gears, not letting go for a second. She wondered if she should be asking questions herself. Something more than where she liked to make love. “Is it too soon, Connor?” “For you or for me?” He grinned and kissed her knuckles. “For you.” “No.” He smiled again. “Ask me more.” “What should I ask you?” “Anything.” “Are you really free? Anybody else?” “Just my mom. I’ll never be free from her.” He made a straight face, and then burst out laughing. “Gotcha, right?” “Well…” “Do I like kids? Yes. Am I going to stay in the Navy for a while? Yes. Forever? No.” “What’s your biggest attribute?” “My heart is my biggest body part, but you’ll not be disappointed with anything else either.” “What do you do best?” “I never give up.” “Have you had your heart broken before?” He looked at her, crossing his eyes. “Who hasn’t?” “What do you do best?” “Kill people.” He turned his eyes from the road and glanced her way. “Is that a problem?” “In your job. Not—” “Or if anyone messed with anyone I love.” “I don’t know anything about guns.”
“I’ll teach you. You gotta learn how to shoot.” She sat back, glad that he’d strapped her in again. “How did you get this way?” She had never met anyone like him before. “It’s who I am. Am I appropriate? Hell no. Do I care about what anyone thinks of me? No, only those I work with or love.” At her apartment, he helped her out of the passenger side again, lifted her up and ran full tilt holding her in his arms. “We have plenty of time, Connor. Remember the slow kisses?” she laughed. “But honey, we’re not kissing. I’m trying to get us there as fast as we can.” It took several tries for her to unlock the gate, and get her key into the door of her apartment. He placed her back on her feet once they were inside and the door was closed behind them. “Two things, Emily. You’re either all-in or I walk away right now. We’re not going to sit and talk all night long and form a relationship, okay?” “Tell me why it has to be that way. I’m okay with it, but tell me.” “Because, honey,” he said as he took her in his arms again, “It’s Valentine’s Day. It will never again be Valentine’s Day this year. It’s the perfect day to fall in love, and baby, if you’re all in, you’ll never be alone again.” It made perfect sense.
Sharon Hamilton’s book list SEAL Brotherhood SEAL Encounter (Book .5) Accidental SEAL (Book 1) SEAL Endeavor (Book 1.5) Fallen SEAL Legacy (Book 2) SEAL Under Covers (Book 3) SEAL The Deal (Book 4) Cruisin’ For A SEAL (Book 5) SEAL My Destiny (Book 6) SEAL Of My Heart (Book 7) Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3 SEAL’s Promise (Book 1) SEAL My Home (Book 2) SEAL’s Code (Book 3) Band of Bachelors Lucas (Book 1) Alex (Book 2) True Blue SEALs True Navy Blue (prequel to Zak) Zak Nashville SEAL Nashville SEAL (Book 1) Jameson (Book 2) Fredo Fredo’s Secret (novella) Book 1 Fredo’s Dream (Book 2)
Novellas SEAL Encounter SEAL Endeavor True Navy Blue (prequel to Zak) Fredo’s Secret Nashville SEAL Boxed Set SEAL Brotherhood Box Set 1 (SEALs) SEAL Brotherhood Box Set 2 (SEALs) Ultimate SEAL Collection Vol. 1 (SEALs) Ultimate SEAL Collection Vol. 2 (SEALs) Big Bad Boys Bundle (SEALs) Immortal Valentines (Paranormal) Kindle Worlds SEAL’s Goal: The Beautiful Game Love Me Tender, Love You Hard Fall From Grace Series Gideon: Heavenly Fall Golden Vampires of Tuscany Honeymoon Bite (Book 1) Mortal Bite (Book 2) The Guardians Heavenly Lover (Book 1) Underworld Lover (Book 2) Underworld Queen (Book 3)
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Beauty Knot
by Stephie Walls
Chapter One “YOU CAN’T BE serious, Callie.” “Well, I am.” “Have you even told Liam yet?” Her exasperation was truly uncalled for. Liam would be ecstatic for both the circumstances and the situation. “You haven’t, have you?” Hayden was beyond upset, and her face showed every ounce of her displeasure. I’d flown home to South Carolina just eight weeks before her due date to have her help me plan, but she was too busy ranting to help me figure out how to tell Liam, much less outline the details. I picked at the imaginary pilling on my sweater while she continued to shout and pace my old living room floor. It was weird being here. Every time I came, it seemed more foreign, as though I’d never lived here. She and Cash had made it quite the home, but it was hers now, not the house we had shared as friends with Liam. My room was now a nursery for her little bean, and Josh had put his stamp on the house, replacing the masculinity Liam had offered. “Callie. Earth to Callie.” My focus snapped to my best friend, who had actually taken a breath to allow me to reply. “Yeah?” I blinked several times in a row, aware of how thick my lashes were and how heavy my lids seemed. “Have you told Liam?” She already knew the answer. I didn’t know why she needed me to confirm I hadn’t, but I shook my head to appease her. “Why not?” I shrugged. I didn’t have an answer other than I didn’t do anything the way anyone expected me to and this was no different. “Has pregnancy made you mute, Callie? I feel like I’m having a conversation with myself here.” “No. I just don’t know what you want me to say. You’re the first person I’ve told. I’m kind of screwed here, Hayden. We’ve sent out save the date cards, but I’ll be the size of Shamu or nursing at the alter— neither works for me. I need a new freaking plan.” “You only have two choices. Get married before or after.” She’d finally stopped pacing and settled on a stool at the bar. I watched her subconsciously rub her hand over her swollen stomach while she stared at me anticipating a response. “And the first is not an option. You promised me you’d wait until I had the baby.”
“Surely you’re not going to hold me to that?” Hayden and I had been friends our entire lives, and I’d never broken a promise to her. But this was different. This wasn’t about me holding a place for her in line or not kissing Jimmy Harden because she had a crush on him. “So you want me to either be a whale or have a baby on the tit at the altar?” She was incensed, but they were hardly equal comparisons. It wasn’t her wedding, so if she was on the verge of popping, big deal. It was entirely different for the bride…as selfish as that may sound. “That’s not the same, and you know it. Look, we don’t have time to fight about this. I have to make some decisions quickly, and I need you on board.” My best friend crossed her arms over her already bulging belly and pretended to be furious with me, but it just wouldn’t be me if things had gone smoothly or I’d done anything differently. She’d always been the planner, and I’d always flown by the seat of my pants. Liam and I would have been better off eloping —that was the only way to avoid this very thing. “Fine,” she huffed. “But I’m going on record that I’m not happy about this, and you better have a damn good photographer who makes pregnancy appear glamorous.” She paused, and I could tell by the look on her face she was scheming. Hayden wanted things her way, but once she came to terms with the fact she wasn’t going to get it, she shifted gears. “So does that mean you think it needs to be soon?” I was hoping like hell her answer was yes. I was afraid if I asked Liam to postpone he might go insane. “While I’m adamantly opposed to shotgun weddings, in this case I see no other option. Liam has waited years for you. He’s going to be thrilled about the baby, but he’s not going to postpone the wedding. Your only option is moving it up. The question becomes, what can we pull off in four weeks?” “Why four? I’m sure I have at least eight before I start to show or a dress fitting would become an issue.” My brow furrowed in confusion. There was no way we could pull off the kind of wedding we’d been planning in a month. My only saving grace was I already had the dress. Hayden rolled her eyes as though I’d just asked the most asinine question. “Jesus, Callie. I’m due in seven weeks and five days. Much past a month from now and I won’t be able to fly and run the risk of early labor.” I pulled my phone out of my purse and picked a date. Four weeks. Twenty-eight days. Six hundred and seventy-two hours. And every minute we sat here chit chatting was sixty seconds less that I had to plan the wedding of my dreams.
Chapter Two BY THE TIME I’d left South Carolina to head back to the Outer Banks, Hayden and I had made a huge dent in
the wedding planning. I’d made the executive decision to move the ceremony to Greenville so Hayden wouldn’t have to attempt to fly so close to her due date and to enable as many of our friends and family to attend as possible. It could be difficult to find accommodations in the summer in the Outer Banks, but it wouldn’t be an issue in South Carolina. There was also an international airport our out of town guests could fly into, while travel anywhere near the islands in North Carolina was sketchy at best. I could only hope Liam agreed with my rationale. When I walked in the door, I was greeted by chubby cheeks and little toddler arms. The squeal of my name brought a smile to my face like no other. Steps behind my almost two-year-old came the man who could bring me to my knees. Liam Hill. He scooped our son into his left arm and me into his right to bring the three of us together into a giant cocoon of love. “God, I missed you,” he cooed into my ear. “I have no idea how we ever managed when I traveled during the week.” I leaned back to take in Liam’s gorgeous blue eyes and Mark’s cherub-like grin. “Easy, you weren’t getting laid daily then.” I winked at him, and he dug his fingers into my side, tickling me into gales of laughter. I’d missed him too. Since Mark was born, we hadn’t spent any time apart. Our lives had changed drastically with the birth of our son. I had slammed the breaks on my writing career and Liam had resigned from Quill. I still wrote, but not at the pace I had been, and he did freelance work from home. Between his savings and my movie deals we weren’t hurting for cash. We had chosen to live a rather simple and fairly isolated life. We’d dealt with curious on-lookers for a while, but it didn’t last long. Everyone who ran in our circle had thought Liam and I had been together for years anyhow, so when it finally happened, it wasn’t all that exciting for the press. The news of Mark peppered the New York papers for several weeks, but even that died down rather quickly once they had a picture of him. The reporters seemed more interested in losing New York’s most eligible bachelor to marriage than Mark or me. It wouldn’t have mattered if Liam married one of his co-workers or me, the only thing anyone cared about was he was no longer available. Liam’s popularity among the ladies was no surprise. As I snuggled with my son, I watched the way my fiancé moved, how he carried himself. His dirty-blond hair had just the slightest bit of wave, but it was his smile that left me completely enamored even years later. Liam was like George Clooney; he just kept
getting better with age. In his fifties, he looked better than most men I met in their thirties, and since we had moved to the beach, he’d started running and was in the best shape of his life. The man was stunning, and I wondered every day how I’d been lucky enough for him to fall in love with me. “Penny for your thoughts?” He smiled softly at me. “Oh, sorry. Just got caught up in you for a minute.” It was true, but he wouldn’t believe me. He was just as modest as he was handsome. Mark dragged my attention away from the man who not only stole my heart but healed it. “Mama. Play.” “Hey, buddy. Let’s let Mama get in the door before we play okay?” Liam had a way with Mark that astounded me. Mark idolized his dad, and when Liam spoke it was as if he hypnotized the kid. I sat my wiggly little man’s feet on the floor and wandered into the kitchen. When I opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water, Liam’s arm snaked around my mid-section and tugged me backward into his embrace. “You’re hiding something.” I couldn’t tell if he’d whispered or growled the words but damn they were hot. Something about pregnancy this time around, I was only at seven weeks, but the hormones were in full swing, and they all swung in Liam’s direction. In an attempt to ignore him and put off the inevitable, I turned in his embrace and met his mouth with mine. My eyes closed naturally as his tongue parted my lips. The kiss was intimate and tender, but he stopped it before it became more. “Callie?” He drew out my name into a question. I searched the room for some sort of distraction, but knew I had to tell him and I was out of time. I’d wanted to do something original since he’d missed out on my pregnancy with Mark and had only found out when he showed up at the hospital thinking I was hurt. But as with the first pregnancy, the hormones stifled my creativity, and I hadn’t come up with anything remotely imaginative to break the news. “Did something happen with Hayden? Is the baby all right?” Silly man. If the baby weren’t all right, I wouldn’t be standing here. I would have summoned him and Mark to South Carolina where I would have stayed with my best friend until her daughter arrived safely into this world. “The baby’s fine.” I took his hand and led him to the couch. He may not have needed to be seated for this, but I sure as hell did. “Callie, baby, what’s wrong?” When I sat, I made certain to give him a reassuring smile. “I want to move the wedding up.” He laughed. “I do too, but we can’t just move the date, Callie. We’ve already confirmed a date and signed a contract with the venue.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “What’s this about? Are Josh and Hayden getting married after the baby’s born?”
“No.” “Then what’s the rush? You haven’t cared one bit about marriage as long as I’ve known you, and I’ve always thought you were doing it to appease me. So why are you suddenly in a hurry?” The oceans of blue in his eyes warmed as I stared into them. “Our current date doesn’t work.” I wanted to slap myself for playing this game. I knew he’d be thrilled to have another child, but getting the words out was agonizing. “Why not?” “Because I don’t want to be fat or lactating at the alter!” Well, that hadn’t come out as eloquently as I’d hoped. He stared at me in stunned silence. I suspected he was stuck on fat or lactating, but I couldn’t confirm that so I waited. His head of dirty-blonde hair tilted just slightly as he regarded my expression, and then his beautiful blues dropped to my stomach before they found my eyes again. In a voice so soft I wouldn’t have heard it had I not been staring at his face and seen his lips move, he whispered, “You’re pregnant?” “Surprise!” I raised my eyebrows and hands simultaneously hoping to lighten what seemed like a tense situation. My jazz fingers caught his attention just as the smile I loved so much graced his face.
Chapter Three FOUR WEEKS WAS not enough time to plan a backyard barbecue, much less a wedding. I’d wrongly assumed
with no time to prepare, people wouldn’t be able to come, but Hayden had sent out an email to our guest list explaining the date was being moved to accommodate the arrival of a new member of the family. Suddenly, people’s schedules opened, and news of Liam Hill having another baby spread like wildfire— everyone who was anyone in publishing wanted to attend. I didn’t know what the interest was or why people hadn’t used this as their get out of jail free card, but they weren’t, so I just kept adding tables to accommodate the headcount. Every waking moment was being spent back and forth to Greenville or on the phone with the venue, the caterer, the florist, or some other person involved in my soiree. When my phone rang again for the tenth time in an hour, I didn’t even glance at who was calling before I answered it. “I hate you,” Hayden sobbed into the phone. We’d been over this no less than five times in the last week. “Are we back to this?” “I went and tried on my dress, and it doesn’t even come close to fitting, you whore.” “Did you talk to the seamstress about letting it out?” I felt like a broken record. “Yes,” she shrieked into the phone. “They can’t let it out enough to accommodate my enormous belly.” Her tears had dried up enough to stop blubbering and start telling me how horrible her circumstances were. “Do you know what their suggestion is, Callie?” Obviously, I didn’t know. I hadn’t been there, but whatever it was had sent her into a tailspin. “No.” I wanted to be sympathetic, but right now I just really didn’t care. We were leaving for Greenville in two days, and she needed to suck it up and do whatever she had to do to fit into the dress on Saturday. “They’re removing the zipper to add in a panel of fabric and a corset closure. Do you know what any of that means?” I tried to stifle my laughter but wasn’t terribly successful, which only resulted in more yelling on Hayden’s part. “This isn’t funny, Callie! They have no idea just how big I’ll be by the weekend, and this is the only way they can ensure the dress will still fit on your wedding day. If I ever get married, I’m going to make your life hell. Do you understand me, Callie? Hell!” She wasn’t really angry at me, rather the situation. I knew that. She knew that. But if yelling made her feel better, I’d suck it up and listen. It had brought some levity to my day anyhow. When she was finally finished whining, she asked how things were going and moved back into planner
mode, which was where her strengths were. “Well, the guest list appears to be growing as rapidly as your waistline with no end in sight.” “Hardy har har har. God, you’re such a bitch. There’s a reason you have no friends, Callie. I have no idea how you ever got Liam to agree to marry you in the first place.” “You love me.” “Luckily for you. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have anyone to sit on your side of the church.” “Meh, it’s a bed and breakfast with no sides. No one will know the fatty’s with me. People will assume you’re there for Liam since you were his assistant for so long.” I couldn’t contain my laughter and was thankful I’d gotten her to giggle too. I knew the circumstances weren’t ideal for either of us, but thus far she’d been a good sport…minus the occasional groaning I’d had to hear. “How’s Liam handling it all?” She loved Liam. Hayden had always been his biggest supporter in my life, and she’d known he loved me long before I’d ever opened my eyes. “Oh my God, Hayden. He’s amazing—ecstatic about the baby and even more thrilled to get married earlier.” “Only you would marry a man who’d be excited about having babies in his fifties.” And he was. He wanted a big family and hoped for twins. Even in my forties, my ability to continue having children was waning with each passing year. Liam knew the likelihood of another pregnancy was slim. “I’m not so sure he’s excited about having babies so much as making them. It’s a good thing because I’ve been on overdrive. If he had a job, he probably would’ve gotten fired when I showed up to have sex in the middle of the day or begged him to come home to take care of my needs.” “Gross. Why do you share shit like that with me?” She wasn’t really put off or grossed out, but it wouldn’t be Hayden if she hadn’t pretended like she was. “You asked. And I’m just telling you he’s thrilled to be getting laid multiple times a day, and so am I.” My bestie steered the conversation back to safer territory. We’d talked about what all I had left to do for the wedding, made plans for when I arrived in Greenville with Liam and Mark, and ironed out a few details no one but me cared about. Just as we were about to hang up, I asked, “Did you get a response from Davis?” He’d been on the original guest list but was always out of the country. I doubted he’d be able to come on such short notice but was hopeful. “Not yet, Callie. You know he goes days without checking email. I’m sure he’ll respond as soon as he reads it. And I promise I’ll let you know.” I knew no one would understand why I wanted him there much less why I’d asked him to give me away, but Liam got it and thought it was fitting. When Davis had left me after two years, I never thought I’d see him again much less become friends with him once he’d resurfaced eight years later. But it had happened, and he’d helped me through losing Liam and being pregnant with Mark. Davis earned a place
in my life as a dear friend and had kept that place even after Mark was born. Somehow he and Liam had even become buddies, but I wasn’t convinced that wasn’t Liam keeping his friends close but his enemies closer. “Yeah, I know.” With nothing left to say, we hung up with a promise to speak again at the end of the day with the newest round of numbers for catering, seating charts, and rentals. It seemed to be changing hourly, and I was struggling to keep up.
Chapter Four TRAVELING WITH A baby under the age of two should be against the law. The Outer Banks are just that…
outer. You can’t get there from here and traveling anywhere was a hassle, but add an active baby to the mix, and I was ready to shoot myself an hour into the trip. We’d decided to fly to avoid the ten-hour drive, and I prayed Mark didn’t cry once we were airborne. I didn’t want to be that parent or him to be that kid. I knew there was a reason I was marrying Liam, and it was more than his striking good looks and his ability to thoroughly satisfy me physically. He was brilliant and had insisted we bring a nanny with us. Lizzy was a college student who’d babysat for us occasionally when she was home from school. Somehow Liam knew her parents, and I’d fallen in love with her the moment I’d met her. She adored Mark and had become part of our little family almost instantly. She was a godsend and kept our little bundle of energy occupied throughout the entire trip. I watched them across the aisle of the plane as she read a book to him and showed him the pictures. His hand reached up and touched her face when she “mooed” to illustrate the sound of the cow on the page. “Are you excited to have another one?” Liam’s breath was warm on my neck and his words filled my heart. I leaned back onto his shoulder and turned my cheek into his mouth to encourage him to kiss my temple. Liam had been one of my best friends almost since the day I’d met him, but somewhere along our journey, he had stolen my heart and made me feel like the luckiest woman in the world. He was my soulsearing, panty-warming, heart-stopping, once-in-a-lifetime love—it just took eight years for me to pull my head out of the sand and realize it. But once I had, he was all consuming, and I felt like a cat in heat. “Absolutely. I wish I hadn’t waited so long.” I closed my eyes as his lips met the side of my head. “Everything happens in the right time, Callie. Nothing about our story should be any different than it is.” His hand moved up my thigh as I turned to face him. My mouth met his, and what started out as PG was quickly escalating to R on the verge of X. The way his tongue dove in, in search of mine, and his fingers grazed my sex outside my jeans, he had me wanton at thirty thousand feet. My hand gripped the back of his neck and scratched at the short hairs as I pressed closer to him. Breathlessly, I pulled back in search of his eyes. I wasn’t going to make it to the landing, and Liam was going to have to find a way to satisfy this need. He saw it the moment he opened his bright blue eyes. His hands pulled my ear to his mouth, and he whispered, “We’re on a plane, baby. You’re going to have to wait.” But I shook my head in opposition. I didn’t have to wait. He just needed to get creative and adventuresome.
“Sex in a bathroom is trashy, Callie. It’s not going to happen.” Just the sound of his voice had my sex throbbing in need. Luckily the window seat was empty, and I had a blanket. I climbed over his legs and landed on the opposite side. The stewardesses were at the front of the plane handing out beverages, but it would take them several minutes to get back to our row, and Lizzy had Mark completely enthralled in a movie on her iPad. “It doesn’t have to be sex. I just need relief,” I murmured so softly no one else would hear. With the flick of my fingers, I unbuttoned my jeans and covered my lap with the blanket. Liam wasn’t following my lead, so I put my left leg over his knee and his hand in my panties. “Jesus, you’re wet.” All day, every day. It was a good thing I couldn’t get pregnant while I was pregnant, or I’d have a football team of little Hills running around. I couldn’t get enough of his touch, and the sound of his voice heightened my need. A tiny moan escaped my lips as his fingers slid down my slit. “You have to be quiet, baby.” Our conversation was ear to mouth to prevent eavesdropping. I nodded my understanding, closed my eyes, and spread my legs as far as the tiny space would allow. He dipped two fingers in and started to stroke as his thumb massaged my swollen nub. My forehead met the top of his shoulder as he continued to encourage my climax. It didn’t take long before my walls clenched around him and I began to fall over the edge of ecstasy. He captured my mouth in an intense kiss to keep me from alerting those around us of my orgasm. As the waves subsided, he moved his hand from between my legs and pecked my lips. I slept the remainder of the flight.
Chapter Five I DON’T THINK it would have mattered if I’d had four weeks or four years to prepare for this wedding.
People had shown up who hadn’t bothered to rsvp, sending the caterer into pandemonium, every vendor had wanted my approval for things I’d already approved and wouldn’t take Hayden’s word for it, and my son had decided today was the day he wanted to develop separation anxiety. Lizzy kept dragging him off my leg, and Liam continued trying to explain to him what was going on, but even the baby whisperer himself couldn’t stop my child’s apprehension over the people swarming the bed and breakfast. Leave it to Cash—the original nut, Hayden’s first born, and my favorite tween—to entice Mark from the confines of my calf. My mouth fell open in awe when the lanky boy I’d watched grow up came waltzing in with a yellow truck I recognized from years gone by to steal Mark’s attention. I couldn’t believe he had it after all these years. “Is that the truck Liam brought you when he first visited us?” God, that had to have been almost ten years ago. He shrugged before he looked at me. “Yeah, I thought Mark might need something to play with.” Apparently, even broody tweens could be thoughtful. “This probably sucks for him as bad as it does for me.” He gave me a playfully squinty look, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m going to take him with me, okay?” He’d been sent by Liam, that much was obvious. “Thanks, Cash.” He’d always be my little man in black, no matter how much he grew or how old he got. I had saved that kid from the hells of adolescence buying him Doc Martens and giving him a faux hawk early on. Just before he walked out of my makeshift dressing room with Mark’s hand in his, he glanced back over his shoulder. “Hey,” he called out with a jerk of his head like he was a man. I caught his eyes and the same sadness I’d seen on his face the day I’d moved to North Carolina, but this time he tried to give me a hint of a smile. “Yeah?” “You look really pretty today, Callie. I hope Liam knows how special you are.” The lump in my throat prevented me from speaking, but he didn’t wait for a response anyway. He’d left with Mark, both dressed in their tailored tuxedos, to wait for me at the altar. I waved my hand in front of my face and stared up at the ceiling trying desperately to keep my tears at bay and not ruin my makeup. The hustle and noise from the guests outside made the isolation almost unbearable. I was about to lose my composure—completely overwhelmed by the commitment I was about to make. “No crying. I don’t have time to redo your makeup so just stop it.” Hayden winked at me right after she
barked out her command. My best friend handed me my bouquet as she waddled up next to me. “You really do look stunning. Liam is going die when he sees you.” Regardless of how little time we’d had to put this together or that I was carrying a child in my womb down the aisle, I was still marrying Liam Hill, New York’s most eligible bachelor. There would be pictures in the paper and all over social media. No matter what else happened, I wanted him to be proud to have me on his arm and his ring on my finger. I’d agonized over the dress—to ensure I was being true to me and honoring him, while knocking the socks off the New York socialites. Today, I would become Callie Hill, and I was going to do it in style. I’d had a designer in Melbourne take three of her dresses apart to mix and match pieces of each I loved. I wanted the sexy look of Pnina Tornai, the elegance of Lazaro, and the delicate intricacies of Mira Zwillinger—Anna Cordinni pulled it off. The delicate cap sleeves were made of dozens of strands of beads and crystals that hung down the sides of my arms where they connected to a plunging v-neck and bodice made of translucent fabric, encrusted in shimmering beadwork that mimicked the sleeves. The sheen teased the eye with the illusion of skin, but the gaze followed the sparkle instead of the hint of nudity. The appliques and hand-stitched designs fell into a dropped waist and layers of silk chiffon. When I walked, the slits up both sides of my legs went all the way to the tops of my thighs but only suggested sexuality. Standing still, it was the epitome of sophistication, when moving it was the quintessence of sensuality, but overall, it was just me. It was stunning, and I’d never felt more beautiful in my life. I’d opted to wear my hair up in a mass of loosely woven braids and voluptuous curls to accentuate the lack of back to the dress. The beadwork trailed down my sides into a half circle just beneath the dimples above my bottom. I hated dresses, but if I was going to wear one, I wanted it to be a show stopper. “You ready to do this?” Hayden looked beautiful too. She’d chosen a platinum, full-length dress with an empire waist that basically hid the fact she was pregnant…unless she turned sideways—there was no hiding that. I was a little disappointed to be walking myself down the aisle, but I was as ready as I’d ever be. “Yep. Are we on time?” I swore I wouldn’t be late to my own wedding, and it appeared I’d kept that promise. As I slipped my heels on, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, my skin prickled, and I became hypersensitive to the air around me. He’d come. I glanced over at Hayden, who had a knowing smile on her face, and Davis Inman walked through the door dressed in the same tux the other men were wearing. My hand flew to my mouth as I caught the sob that threatened to escape at the sight of him. My breath caught on my quick inhale. “You made it,” I breathed out the words as though I didn’t believe them myself. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Callie.” My old lover held out his arm to escort me down the
aisle to give me to the man who’d loved me through the broken wreckage Davis had left behind. Davis had held my heart for so long, it was only fitting that he would give me away to Liam, who’d healed it. I didn’t have any more words and was afraid if I spoke the tears I’d staved off would make their way down my face. He kissed my cheek and told me I was breathtaking and led me to meet my husband. We followed Hayden, who led the processional to the space outside where I’d become Mrs. Hill. As the music started and she exited first, the doors closed behind her, leaving me with Davis. There were no words spoken as I clutched his arm. He looked dapper, and I couldn’t be happier to have him here. When the doors opened, and the crowd stood, nothing would have ever prepared me to see Liam waiting for his bride. He was antsy, but no one else would have noticed. His thumb rubbed the top of his opposite hand as he tried to keep them still in front of him. The closer I got, the clearer his features became, and the tears that lined his eyes expressed more than any words he could have ever said. The smile that erupted on his lips stole the only piece of my heart he had yet to capture. Mark was sitting with Lizzy in the front row, but Cash stood proudly next to Liam and Hayden was on the opposite side of the minister. Every soul I cherished was at that altar. As usual, I was the last to join the party, but they’d all waited on me, patiently. When Davis handed me off to Liam, they hugged and exchanged hushed words and genuine smiles. I took Liam’s arm and kissed Davis’ cheek and thanked him. As the sun set and the pastor spoke, I stared into Liam’s soft blue eyes and glanced over at my son watching his daddy with total adoration. Never had I imagined my life would make this circle, but when I took in the audience and those standing with us and those occupying the first few rows, I realized just how blessed I truly was and what an indelible mark Liam had left on my life. As we said our vows, I hoped I left the same on his. Sealed with a kiss, I’d just snagged New York’s most eligible bachelor and caused hearts to break all over the literary world. Liam Hill was off the market. Permanently.
Chapter Six HAYDEN HAD ALWAYS been able to throw an incredible party. With enough money, she could accomplish
anything and everyone end up having fun. My reception was no different. The food was phenomenal although I was terrified to see the bill. I’d lost count of how many last-minute guests we’d added to the meal, but I told Hayden to tell the caterer if he made it successful I’d make sure it was worth his time. He’d done everything I’d asked, and no one had a clue things were still being shuffled to accommodate guests as of this morning. The band played a mix of cover songs and their own music that kept the dance floor fully occupied all night long. People whom I’d never seen dance had glasses of wine in their hands moving to the music that never seemed to stop. There wasn’t a single person sitting idly or anyone who appeared bored—everyone seemed engaged with someone. I couldn’t help but notice Hayden and Josh trying to dance around her enormous belly. Next to Liam, he was the only man I’d ever known to glow with his significant other’s pregnancy. He was as excited as Hayden was to meet their little girl. I couldn’t wait to see them together once she arrived. Liam and I had made our rounds to say hello to everyone in attendance and thank them for coming. Never in my life had I been so easily distracted by happiness. The way he glanced down at me or told me how stunning I was, it shattered my ability to focus on anyone other than Liam. He and Mark were the end all and be all in my eyes. If I had to go through it all again—every ounce of pain Davis made me endure— to end up here. With Liam. Just like this. I would. In a heartbeat. The clinking of the knife on glasses brought my attention back to the present and the crowd around us. Hayden was standing a few feet away holding a microphone in her hand trying to get everyone’s attention. I couldn’t stop laughing when she got frustrated trying to be demure and finally stomped her foot and said, “Can I have your attention?” a little too aggressively into the mic. When the electronic squeal stopped, she stood back up and presented the poised and confident Hayden we all knew and loved. With Liam by my side, we grabbed toasting glasses, his filled with wine, mine with white grape juice. Luckily, I wasn’t the only one toasting my marriage with unfermented grapes. My bestie had the same swill in her glass I had in my own. “I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to have all of you here to celebrate Liam and Callie’s marriage. We all rooted for them for years, but there were times I thought for sure Callie was going to screw it up.” She winked at me and everyone laughed. “But Liam never lost sight of his goal. He knew long before the rest of us that Callie was his final destination. Thank God for that sweet little boy who saved you both from yourselves…” Her voice trailed off as did the grin on her face. In the blink of an eye,
she’d plastered on a plastic smile and dropped the glass she’d been holding for the toast. Immediately, I left Liam’s embrace to take Hayden’s side. I was next to her in two strides. Tuning out the murmurs around me, I focused on my best friend and heard the clamor of Josh in the background trying to get to her. “What the hell, Hayden? Don’t move. You’ll step on the glass.” I looked around the room for assistance cleaning up the mess. “Hey, you okay?” Josh’s voice seemed to break the trance she’d engaged in with the floor. She turned to him, and I couldn’t tell if I was seeing fear or some other emotion written on her face. It had all happened within seconds, but reality seemed to be going in slow motion. With her hands clutching her stomach, she finally spoke and we all started to move. “My water just broke.” I shouldn’t be surprised, this was par for the course where Hayden and I were concerned, but as we put a cap on my evening, together we would embark on our next journey.
The End
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The Brightest Star
by Yessi Smith
Elio
LIFE IS FULL of surprises. At least, that’s how the old saying goes. And, while I always knew those words
were true, I never expected them to sucker punch me. To leave me breathless with my world tilting on its axis. Or for the blow to be delivered by a beautiful girl with violet eyes that still enchant me. I didn’t expect to fall so swiftly, so quickly. Stolen moments that turned into more than I knew to dream about. I fell in love, and the words I hadn’t even realized I longed to speak crashed through my lips. And, when she uttered them back, the love amplified. Every day, Vianella and I fall harder while our souls soar to new heights. Hand in hand, heart-to-heart, we travel into the unknown with the realization that as long as we’re together, our path will always lead us home. That thought eases my nerves as I get ready to celebrate Valentine’s Day for the first time. As if sensing the anxiety edging its way into my system, Vianella places a gentle hand on my sunkissed arm and presses her lips against my cheek. The warmth of her touch makes my heart tremble. In response, I tilt my face toward her, meeting her lips with mine. When my tongue sneaks out, she opens for me and wraps her toned arms around my neck. I sink my fingers into her waist as I taste the familiarity of her tongue that makes me feel whole. Behind me, the sound of Omar’s irritated huffs makes me laugh. Vianella digs her face into the crook of my neck, her body shaking slightly as she giggles. Her gaspy breaths nuzzle my skin, and goose bumps spread over my body. I hold her tighter, enveloping her soul with mine. “Break a leg,” she whispers when she leans away from my embrace to trace kisses over my jaw. I pull back further and narrow my eyes at her. “Not that you need it.” Vibrant eyes laugh at me from behind long, dark lashes. “I mean, you’re a legend and all.” Omar, my fifteen-year-old apprentice and friend, barks out a laugh, so I turn to him with raised eyebrows. “You were a legend,” he calls out while he aligns my unlit torches on the ground. “I’m the new legend, the one everyone flocks to see.” “Mouthy shit,” I mumble but then press my lips together, so they won’t spread into a smile. A growing crowd spills into Mallory Square, breathing life into the once nearly empty arena. Their chatter flows into the cool but humid air as they make their way to the seawall to take part in the Sunset Celebration, to watch the curtains close on another day in an explosion of astonishing colors. Rather than starting my show, I take Vianella’s hand in mine and turn us to face the falling sun. Hues of pink and orange dance over the calm sea. Purples and blues stream across the horizon.
Preserving the effervescent memory of a day they’ll long to remember, tourists snap pictures with their phones. It’s a feeble attempt to capture a piece of the magic the slow descent of the sun grants us all. It isn’t the sun that calls to me though. But the moon. The dark sky infused with the twinkling lights of the brightest stars pulls me in and holds me close. Another day passes us by, giving us one more chance to watch our dreams dance among the stars. A small body crashes into my back as hands encircle my legs. Smiling, I turn around and tussle the shaggy mop on top of Devin’s head. His eager expression makes my heart flip. I glance behind him to his dad—my oldest friend, my brother by choice—and nod in Owen’s direction. He raises a single hand and waves before resting it on Devin’s slender shoulder. “She’s here,” Devin signs in excitement. “Savannah’s here.” His eyes dart to a cute girl facing away from us, whose hand is clasped inside her mother’s as they watch the sunset. Her black hair falls from a high ponytail and spills over her back. “She is,” I agree, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. “You said you’d help me. You’re still going to help me, right?” His hands and fingers slice through the air in rapid movements. “You think I’m not a man of honor?” I joke, placing a hand over my heart. “That I’d back out on my word?” “You’re so weird,” he replies. “Is that a yes?” I shake my head in mock disapproval. “What are you teaching your son?” I ask Owen with swift gestures of my hands. “Here he is, asking me to do something for him, and he insults me.” Strong but chubby hands pull on my shirt, and I tilt my head in question when Devin raises his hands to reply, “You know you’re my favorite uncle.” I bite down a chuckle, but it manages to escape when he peers up at me through glistening large eyes. Almost seven years old, and already he knows how to play me. Deaf or not, world domination could very well be in his future. “Yeah, yeah.” I shrug. “I’ll help you. If you distract Vianella,” I add with a wink, “while I talk to your dad.” “I can do that.” He tugs on Vianella’s hand, who eagerly follows him. From the corner of my eye, I see Devin pull out two small beanbags from the front pocket of his shorts. Vianella takes him in as he starts to slowly juggle both bags. Concentration mars his innocent face, and I pause for a moment to study him, thinking of ways to help him gain more confidence so that the hand manipulations become easier. To get my attention, Owen puts a hand on my broad shoulder. “What’s up?” he signs. “Did you talk to Tyler?” I ask, wanting to make sure Owen was able to use his contact to get Vianella
and me a table at the nicest restaurant on the island. With Owen being the main supplier of fresh fish to restaurants in Key West and the surrounding islands, he’s gotten to know almost every restaurant owner from here to Homestead. In the beginning, it was hard for him to garner new clients because of his deafness, but despite his parents insisting he could never lead a normal life, Owen didn’t believe them. Not once has he let his limitations define him, just as he’s made sure Devin knows he doesn’t have limitations. They’re different, he likes to tell his son. Some people have dark hair; others have light hair. Some people can hear; some can’t. Some fish for a living, like Owen does. Some juggle fire and knives, like I do. It’s our differences that make us uniquely us. He drops his chin in a quick nod. “You’re all set. Flowers, candlelight, and a waterside table. Your parents came by my place and gave me the chocolate-covered strawberries you and your dad made. I’d tell you to hand over your man card, but”—he lifts his shoulders and lets them fall—“I think it’s sweet.” “Yeah, man, of course you do.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “I mean, you wouldn’t like it if I were just screwing your cousin.” He puts his hands up to halt my words. “Stop, Eli,” he warns. “Sure, she’s having the best sex of her life, but I get it; she deserves more than that. So, between the multiple orgasms I give her, I make time for flowery words of love.” “You’re a dick,” he replies jokingly. I look down to my crotch. With a playful smile on his face, loud gagging sounds erupt from his throat. It’s rare for Owen to use any form of verbal communication, so this small gesture catches me off guard. He laughs, and unlike the Owen he shows the world, his laughter is boisterous and uninhibited. After clapping his shoulder hard, I bring up my hands and sign, “You need to get laid more. You’ve become such a prude.” His blue eyes narrow into slits but not enough to hide his obvious merriment. “Stop talking about having sex with my cousin.” He tilts his head toward the darkened horizon. “The sun’s down. Start your show, and make my son happy.” Pressing a palm over the folded note in the front pocket of my jeans, I nod. After giving Omar our cue to begin, he calls to the crowd, asking them to form a small circle around us. While I normally leave juggling the fire torches for later—when Omar and I can toss them between us or when I’m on my nine-foot unicycle—this time, I light them and start the show with a bang that I know will draw a big audience. But my focus is only on Savannah. Her mom lifts a hand to discreetly wave in my direction and guides her daughter to the rope that borders my makeshift stage. As I light each torch, Omar picks up three knives. “I’m Omar!” he shouts. “This is Eli, and this is our
show.” As rehearsed, we start to juggle—Omar with the knives and me with the lit torches—side by side. “This is boring,” Omar calls out after a few seconds. “Quit being so soft, old man, and let’s give these folks a show they’ll remember.” Some hollers meet our ears, but I shake my head, my eyes skirting over our spectators until they land on Savannah. Enchanted, her inquisitive stare bounces from Omar to me. The magic of our show pulses through her, sprinkling her excitement over us all. “This is pretty dangerous,” I reply. He snorts. “What do you guys say?” Omar asks our growing audience. On limber legs, he walks away from me, increasingly engaging our crowd as he expertly manipulates the knives at a safe distance from the men, women, and children surrounding us. “C’mon, Eli.” He turns to meet me and smiles so bright, it’s almost cheesy, but also genuine, as I know how hard my young friend works on being happy. “All right,” I amend. “We’ll give them what they want.” More shouts. Some clapping. “But, if one of us ends up at the hospital, remember, this is all on you.” I scan the faces, my expression somber as I meet their attentive gazes. A few people laugh while others nervously shuffle their feet. Their energy slams into my gut, coiling itself around my spine, and I use it to propel me further. To make this show something that will forever be etched in Devin’s heart. Omar saunters back to me, and we face each other with only a couple of feet separating us. We relax our shoulders and slightly bend our knees. When I nod once, he tosses a knife in my direction, and at the same time, I throw a torch toward him. When each object hits the peak in the invisible arc we’ve created, we toss another. Back and forth, we juggle the items, making it look effortless. The truth is, we spend countless hours practicing. Day after day, we rehearse our act until I’m confident that we’ve mastered it. Every night, we re-create ourselves, mold into this role—a rendition of our reality. A far-fetched wish that, after dusk, we bring into fruition. In its own way, it’s revolutionary and purposeful. “Whaddya think?” Omar asks. Our audience replies with shouts and loud clapping. Joy and pride cross his face, and my mind drifts to a time when I once needed that same love and encouragement from strangers. Their happiness was mine. Their awe would carry me into the night and through the following day until I could perform again. Vianella changed me. While the call to perform and make others happy still beckons to me, it’s no longer the only goal I work toward or the only dream I chase after. Vianella’s in the center of it all. Making her happy, making us happy—that’s the only dream worth a damn. In the middle of our trick, I see Cal, a fellow busker who mentored me when I was a kid, hand Vianella our local newspaper. Without losing focus, my eyes move back and forth from the show to
Vianella, never breaking concentration so that I neither lose my audience or the manipulations of hand and object. I grin wider as she scans through the various Valentine’s Day greetings in the special section for the holiday. Her violet eyes grow large, letting me know that she’s reading my message to her. She clamps her teeth down on her bottom lip and shakes her head when she glares at me. I give her a quick wink that she responds to with a lift of her middle finger as the sides of her lips tilt up. “All right,” I say, turning my full attention back to our audience. Omar and I juggle the knives and torches one final time until he catches all the knives, and I catch my torches. While I blow out my torches, Omar takes a dramatic bow, and when he stands back up, I shove a hard shoulder to his side. He grunts and playfully slams his body into mine. “Okay, for our next trick, I’m going to need the help of two young volunteers.” Lifting my chin at Devin, I signal for him to stand next to me with a quick tilt of my head. Having been a part of my show countless times already, he walks to the center of my stage with a confident gait. I tap my pocket where the note Devin gave me yesterday still rests. “In my pocket,” I both say out loud and sign, “is something special.” I pull out the note and wave it several times over my head before securing it back into the same pocket. “But, in order to find out what it is, I’m going to need the help of another young man or woman.” Eager hands rise and dance vehemently in the air as children try to gain my attention. A few of them call to me, but I turn my scrutiny to Savannah. “Young lady”—I point at her, and a sweet blush blossoms on her cheeks—“would you mind helping me?” Her mom urges her to my stage, and after squaring her shoulders, she moves to me and stretches out a hand for me to shake. “I’m Eli,” I tell her. Then, I gesture to Devin, who’s pacing beside me. “That’s my nephew, Devin.” “I know who he is,” she replies with a slight tremble in her soft voice. “We go to school together.” “What’s your name?” I prompt. She puts her hands behind her back and rocks on the heel of her feet. “Savannah.” “Do you want to help me and Devin with a magic trick?” My hands form each sign as I speak the words, so everyone in attendance understands me. “Sure.” Bouncing on the tips of her toes, she cranes her neck around me to look at Devin with a sheepish grin playing across her face. He waves at her and brings his hands in front of his chest to sign. While their attention is on the other, I quickly remove Devin’s note from my pocket, and with one hand resting on Savannah’s shoulder, I tuck the note into the hoodie of her short-sleeved jean jacket. “Okay, you two, quit flirting.” A hue of light red snakes up Devin’s neck to his cheeks.
“Now, Dev, I want you to reach into my pocket and grab that special note for me,” I guide, while also verbalizing my instructions for my audiences’ sake. A few members who must’ve caught my not so slight of hand laugh when Devin puts his hand in my pocket and comes back empty. “What? Where is it?” Agitation makes Devin’s hand movement jerky, and he steps back to assess me with confused eyes. I smirk. “It’s magic.” With his hands on his hips, he watches me, his eyes taking me in, before he surveys his surroundings. “Uncle Elio,” he warns. “Do any of you have my note?” I direct my question to the audience even though I continue signing for Devin’s benefit. “It was on a white piece of paper but folded several times.” Owen’s laughter reaches me first and then Vianella’s. When I peer back at them, I find her head against her cousin’s shoulder while he wraps an arm around her. “It’s in her hoodie!” someone shouts. “Hey!” I shove an accusatory finger toward the stranger. “No cheating.” “Check your hoodie!” the man yells louder. A few beats later, shouts and laughter crash into me as everyone else joins in. Savannah spins in a small circle before she grabs the back of her hoodie and tugs on it to see a folded piece of paper. Excited, she lifts it in the air, and her smile spreads when we all cheer and clap. Impatient fingers rip it open, trembling slightly when she starts to read the carefully written note. Her eyes narrow and she hums a soft melody in the back of her throat. Seconds go by too slowly, making Devin squirm uncomfortably beside me. Finished, she tucks the note in her pocket and faces Devin’s expectant gaze. “I’ll have ice cream with you after the show,” she says and signs. Thunderous applause meets her announcement. It echoes in my ears, and I hold on to it, wanting to be able to pull the memory of Devin’s joyous gleam whenever I want. Trying to act a lot more nonchalant than he feels, Devin nods, and when his smile reaches his eyes, I feel the pull for something… more. Something I can’t quite place. Only that it’s there. Growing. Although it isn’t the kind of show that’ll bring in good tips, it’s one of my favorites. The expression on Devin’s face and the delighted but nervous energy floating from one child to the other—they mean more than any monetary gain. “All right, folks!” I call out. Omar hands me the same tattered hat I’ve used to collect tips with since I was fifteen years old. “Cupid’s done for the night. And, remember, nothing tells your significant other I love you like supporting your local street performers.” The few stragglers left watching the show clap and move toward me to drop some cash into my hat. We exchange small talk, and I immerse myself into these strangers. For once, rather than playing the role
of Eli, the variety entertainer, I allow my life to intersect with theirs, and for a fleeting moment, I let them into mine. With my guard down, Vianella comes beside me and presses her body against mine. I circle an arm around her slender waist, sliding my fingers under her shirt, and plant a quick kiss on the side of her head. Words of young love fall from these strangers’ lips while they watch Devin and Savannah interact. Amused, they speak of first kisses, as if that somehow equals love. The truth is, love doesn’t come from a kiss or from a touch. It comes from a look, from two souls recognizing each other. It’s the souls that kiss, that touch and dance. It’s the souls that fall in love. Not us. We’re just simple vessels that only emerge when we’ve finally let our souls guide us into love. Only then can we fully recognize who we are and who we’re meant to be. Standing just outside the sea of strangers I spot the strange waitress who, months ago, spoke to Owen with slow, exaggerated movements of her lips until our friend Dylan scared her away with his over-thetop personality. She steps toward us but retreats when Savannah’s mom stands next to Owen, brushing her shoulder with his. Curious, I wait for Owen to acknowledge the waitress but he keeps his attention trained on the mom’s hands as she communicates with him. Before leaving, Devin hugs Vianella, and when I sit on my knees, he wraps his lanky arms around my neck. I hold him to me, remembering him as the little baby I carried around my mom’s apartment as he cried long into the night. As strange as it seems, I miss those days. I miss how his tiny body fit perfectly in my arms. I miss the way his eyes traced over me while his chubby hands grazed my face. Even more, I long for the times I wasn’t here, when my friend Dylan and I left the island to travel across the US, busking in places we’d only read about. “Thanks, Uncle Elio,” he signs. I ruffle his messy hair, and he runs off to meet his dad, who waves at me before placing a hand on the lower back of Savannah’s mom. Although Owen denies anything, I see the spark behind the mom’s eyes when she looks at Owen. And I hope Owen finds what I know he secretly wants. Moving my attention to Vianella, I let my gaze linger on her face. And I dream about what our baby will look like. How he or she will feel in my arms. How incredible it’ll be to see the woman I love grow with my child inside her. Our eyes lock, and like a string is pulling us together, we step into one another so that our skin brushes against the other. Her fingers run over my cheek so softly, I barely feel them, so I press my palm to hers and lean my face into our joined hands. Wandering fingers trail down to her waist and bring her even closer to me, molding her chest to mine. She grasps my shoulders, holding on to me, grounding me to where I belong. When our lips connect, I kiss Vianella as if I were trying to steal the breath from her. I indulge in her, my tongue desperately seeking hers in a reflection of my need. Without trying, she’s seductive, and I’m helpless in controlling my desire. Deeper and deeper, I fall into her every day. The quiet buzz of Mallory Square fades so that all I hear is us. The beating of my own heart in my ears.
The sound of her soft whimpers against my lips. The moan that breaks free from my throat. With every caress, she leaves a trail of love on my skin as her fingers dance over my arms. Breaking for air, we pull apart. Her eyes stay closed, but when she opens them, the honesty behind her expression floors me and makes me soar at the same time. “I love you, sweet Vianella.” I brush my lips against hers. “Elio”—my name slips out on a soft sigh—“I love you, too.” Her fingers whisper up my arms to my shoulders where she steadies herself. Once her breathing evens out, she steps away from me and reaches to the back pocket of her shorts. “What’s this?” she asks, shoving the folded newspaper Cal gave her into my chest. I look around me, expecting to hear Omar’s mocking laughter, but find us alone in the heart of Mallory —or almost alone. Sitting on the seawall, a few feet away from us, I spot the waitress again and I wonder if Owen ever noticed her. He always seems to notice her, to run into her on the island, and it makes me question just how much of her he actually sees. Her eyes bore into the dark sky, as if it’ll reveal all its secrets. And, although I’m not sure, I think I hear her singing softly into the bay. Giving the girl her space, I draw my hazel eyes back to Vianella and smirk. I take the newspaper from Vianella and wave it in front of her face. “It’s a love note,” I reply, fighting back the chuckle tickling the back of my throat. “What? You don’t like it?” I place a hand over my beating heart and do my best to look disappointed. Huffing loudly, she plucks the paper back from me and flips through the pages until she reaches her destination. “Sweet Vianella,” she reads out loud, “what are you doing reading this section? Are flowers and a romantic night out not enough for you? Love, Elio.” Although she tries to suppress it, a giggle starts inside her. It simmers quietly and then bursts through her chest and throat in an inflection of music that envelops me from the inside out. I step into her again, putting a hand on her cheek. She tips her head up and opens her lips. Her soft breath caresses my skin when our lips touch, and it’s like taking in a breath of fresh air. Each time we kiss, her exhales fill my soul, awakening my heart. And I know I’m ruined for anyone but her. I shudder when she pulls away. “Do you hear that?” she asks, angling her face toward the girl who’s now singing louder. “That’s the girl from the bar. What’s her name?” She pauses. “Emma!” Abruptly, Emma stops singing, her body swinging in our direction. Her eyes grow wild, as if she’s noticing us for the first time. “I’m sorry,” Vianella says when Emma stands up. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Your voice…” She trails off. “It’s beautiful.” “It’s nothing,” Emma replies, her voice clipped. “Owen’s seen you a few times here at Mallory, just hanging back and watching things,” I tell her. “If you ever want to sing, I can—”
“No,” she interrupts, “I don’t sing.” “Right,” I agree. “And you don’t want friends. Got it.” “Elio,” Vianella scolds as Emma scurries away. Angry eyes slam into me. Vianella folds her arms over her chest, and I want nothing more than to kiss the grimace off her lips. But I know now isn’t the time. Now’s the time to let her stew, to let her be upset with me. I’ll make it up to her when we get back to our apartment. Slowly, I’ll strip her. Clothes and anger will fall. I’ll kiss her. Make her mine, let her know I’ll always be hers. “Why do you have to be such an ass sometimes?” “We’re gonna be late for dinner,” I reply. Without saying a word, she stalks in front of me, her flip-flops slapping the ground, as I gather the tools of my profession. She reaches the car we share first and I pull out the key fob from my pocket and press the unlock button. Vianella slams the car door harder than necessary, and rather than rising to the temper festering between us, I carefully put each item in the trunk of my car. When I climb into my seat and fasten my seatbelt, I reach over and place a hand on Vianella’s knee. Although she jerks away from my touch, I squeeze her leg. Her scowl deepens, and I know the night isn’t going to go as perfectly as I thought. It doesn’t get better on the drive home. Or in the shower. Not when I kiss her neck in the hopes of distracting her. Or when I pour her a glass of wine twenty minutes before we’re set to leave. She even bats me away when I sneak a hand under her light pink beach dress. For weeks, I’ve worked on making today special, and with one tiny slip of the tongue, it’s all gone to shit. I rein in the slow-burning rage and keep my mind on the goal, on making tonight remarkable for both of us. The drive to the restaurant is quiet, rigid even, and several times I have to remind myself to unclench my fist resting on my khaki pants. Somehow, I convince myself that the night is still salvageable. After closing my car door with a loud thud, I rush to Vianella’s side to open her door, but she’s already out of the car and bypassing me without a second glance. Her dark hair bounces against her back as she hurries passed me. Agitated that we’re fighting when this is my first time celebrating Valentine’s Day with anyone, I run my hands over my face and sigh loudly into them. My feet pound into the earth beneath me, and when we reach the hostess standing by the front entrance, I take Vianella’s hand in mine, keeping a firm grip so that she can’t pull away. Pressing my palm to hers, I intertwine our fingers, never getting tired of how well we fit together. I bring our joined hands to my lips and kiss her knuckles. Even when we’re arguing, we’re still a good match. Two imperfect people who somehow make a perfect whole. “Follow me,” the hostess says after I give her my name. Hand in hand, Vianella and I walk to the back patio, passing people sitting at their tables, until we
reach the one furthest away from everyone. I hold out her chair and kiss her temple before I take my seat. A warm breeze from the bay beside us brushes over our faces, and she closes her eyes. Violet eyes hold me captive when she opens them again. “Elio,” my name comes out in barely contained anguish, “I’m sorry about earlier, for being so pissy. But that girl, Emma, needs a friend. She doesn’t need someone giving her a hard time; she needs someone who’ll ride out her anger until… I dunno. Until she realizes she can use a friend or two,” she explains. Understanding she’s talking more about herself and how angry she once was, I reach over the table and grab her hand. I run a thumb over her soft skin. “I’m sorry, too,” I reply. “I’ll behave next time.” “You weren’t here when I first came to Key West,” she continues, “but I was a lot like Emma. I was so pissed at everyone, and if Owen or your mom had given up on me, I don’t know where I’d be right now. Definitely not here with you.” She chuckles, and although it’s sad, it’s still the sweetest sound I’ve heard. “You’d still be here with me.” I squeeze her fingers. “I’d have seen through the anger and found you, no matter what. Us, what we have—it was meant to be.” “You don’t know that.” A sigh drops from her parted lips. “You don’t know that you’d have loved who I once was any more than you know you’ll love who I might become.” I frown while my heart drums an erratic beat behind my chest. “What are you talking about?” “We’ve been dating for seven months. Don’t you ever wonder if we rushed things? We exchanged I love yous within a short few weeks. We moved in together after knowing each other for a little over a month. The chances of us staying together…” She trails off. Letting go of her hand, I lean back into the chair and rub the back of my neck. “Where’s this coming from?” I ask, hiding the quake in my heart. “It’s just…” she begins. “Emma—” “Forget Emma,” I interrupt. “It’s you and me. Just you and me, Vianella.” “How do you know we’ll work?” she asks, uncertainty making her voice tremble. “How do you know we won’t?” I counter. “I-I don’t,” she stammers, her eyes reddening. “I’ve never done this before, Elio. It was always me and my brother. This is still so new, so different. I don’t want to screw anything up. I want us to be a forever thing.” Her eyes dance over the white tablecloth adorned with daisies and tea lights. When I don’t speak, she turns to the dark bay, her face growing more somber by the second. I move my chair around the table so that I can sit beside her and put a protective arm around her shoulders. She leans into me and grips my blue polo shirt. “I want to marry you one day, Vianella. I want to have babies with you. We’re a forever thing, okay?” And I know this is it—the unknown yearning I felt before. I want to have a family. A family with
Vianella. A little boy to crash into the waves with. A little girl to build sand castles with. Under my arm, I feel her head bob up and down. Moving my hand from her shoulder, I trail a gentle caress to her waist where I tug her body toward me. Without hesitation, she crawls onto my lap. I hug her to me and rest my chin on her bare shoulder. “We’re gonna get on each other’s nerves and fight. I’m going to fold my clothes and leave yours in a rumpled mess. You’re going to slam dishes as you put them away. I’m going to spill coffee and not clean it up. You’re going to leave strands of hair in the shower drain and clog the toilets with too much paper. You’re going to withhold sex, and I’m going to kiss you madly until you break.” As I open my mouth to continue speaking, our waiter shows up with a tray of the strawberries my dad and I made for Vianella. Too soon, she climbs off my lap and sits back on her chair and immediately I feel the empty without her warm embrace. With a subtle smile, he leans over the table and places it in front of us. “Oh!” Vianella exclaims. But then her sudden excitement dwindles when she sees the chocolate has melted off the strawberries. “What’s this?” I hiss. “This isn’t what I made.” “You made these?” Vianella asks, her voice thick with emotion. “Yeah, and they were perfect this morning.” “I’m sorry,” the waiter apologizes, his tone insincere. He casts his eyes to the ruined strawberries and smirks. “That’s how they came in.” “Like hell they did. I want to speak to your manager.” “Sir,” the waiter says, and at the same time, Vianella whispers my name. “It’s fine,” she urges me. I take out my phone to text Owen. Strawberries look like shit man. There’s no chocolate on them “It’s fine,” Vianella repeats to the waiter. “Can you get me a glass of merlot? And he’ll have a Jack and Coke,” she orders. “Make his a double.” The waiter rushes off after uttering another hollow apology under his breath. “Elio.” Vianella rests a hand over mine. “It isn’t fine.” My phone dings, and I lift it to read an incoming text from Owen. FFS! They were fine when I dropped them off. Probably forgot to put them in the fridge, or they put them too close to the stove.
Stop saying fine. They’re not fine. This isn’t fine. Next to me, Vianella’s body starts shaking, and when I look at her, I see her laughing quietly into her hand. Despite my best efforts, a smile breaks out across my face. “You think this is funny?” I ask, ignoring the ding of my phone alerting me of another text. “No,” she replies with an emphatic shake of her head. “Not funny.” She giggles. “And definitely not fine.” She tilts her head up, and when her lips touch mine, her tongue flits out. My tongue meets hers, and together, we dance. I kiss my love into her and take her breath into me. The always-present fire burns deeper, hotter, inside me until I’m certain I’ll combust with all my emotions. “Sweet Vianella.” She traces a finger over my lips when we break apart, and I kiss the tip. “I wanted tonight to be perfect.” “It is,” she says. “There have been some minor bumps in the road, but I bet these strawberries taste amazing.” With a satisfied grin, she reaches for a strawberry and swirls it into the melted chocolate. When she bites into it, she moans into the fruit. As she chews, her smile disappears. “This is—” “Not fine,” I finish for her. “It-it’s warm.” She scrunches up her nose at me, and I start to laugh. “It’s still good,” she argues. Laughter explodes from my chest, and I bury my face into her neck while I hold her by her waist. My body reacts immediately when I feel her tongue lick the side of my neck. She bites into the tender skin, and I inhale sharply. A loud cough interrupts us, and I swear when we separate to see our waiter putting our drinks in front of us. “Thanks,” Vianella says. “Are you ready to order?” he asks. I press Vianella closer to me and put a possessive hand on her knee when his eyes roam slowly over her body. Again, she rests her head on my shoulder. “We haven’t looked at the menu,” Vianella tells our waiter. “But I just want steak and potatoes.” The waiter leans over her to show the different steaks on the menu, and just when I’m going to warn him, Vianella asks him to back off. He takes a large step away from us and takes my order while his eyes drift back and forth between us and the nearest exit. When he walks away from us, I bat my eyes at her. “You’re my hero.” “Yeah?” She quirks an eyebrow at me. “I had to say something because I was afraid you were going to start humping me in public to claim me as yours.”
“That has its merits.” She gives me a sideways glance, and I wrap a finger around a strand of her long, thick hair. Her chest rises and falls in an upbeat cadence. The gentle breeze from the bay washes over us, reminding us that love is always in the air. I can’t remember the exact moment I fell in love, but the first time I kissed Vianella, held her in my arms, she stirred something inside me. And, since that day, my soul has never rested again because she took me. Every part of who I was became hers. After dinner, I lead Vianella toward the restaurant’s dock rather than our car. We stop in front of two paddleboards floating in the water. When she smiles at me, the stars reach her eyes, and I know why I’ve always been drawn to the night. How I feel about Vianella… I love her past the moon. My heart shines more luminous than the constellations because Vianella, my brightest star, loves me back. On my knees, I take off her sandals and skim my hand over a long, smooth leg, stopping when I reach the bottom of her dress. Her fingernails dig through my crew cut hair and when she kisses the top of my head, I lean back down to remove my shoes and then fold up my pant legs. After I stand back up, I hold the paddle while Vianella eases herself onto the board, and then I climb onto mine. With the cool water drifting over our bare feet, I follow Vianella to the secluded pool behind the marshes, the place she showed me after we first met. When Vianella lies down on her board, I paddle beside her, and, holding her outstretched hand, I also lie down. “You’re getting wet,” I say. She shrugs, and a brilliant smile spreads across the lips I worship every day. “What are you smiling at?” I ask, deepening the creases between my eyebrows as I draw them together. “Look at us,” she whispers into the night, her voice silky. “We’re doing it. We’re growing old together. It isn’t perfect. It’s chaotic, but it’s us, isn’t it?” “Yeah,” I agree, my heart warming to her words and our perfectly imperfect night. “It’s something special that no one else has. It’s us. Just you and me.” From the heavens, the moon and stars shine down on us, and I’m certain they’re jealous of us. Jealous of the magic only a human heart can feel.
About the Author YESSI SMITH lives in South Florida with her husband and two sons. She is also owned by a neurotic
Border Collie and “ferocious” Rottweiler. She has a Bachelor’s degree in Business Management and a Master’s in Human Resource Management and has held several jobs, from picking up dog poop to upper management positions. And now she hopes to leave the business world behind so she can live full time in a world that does not exist until she places her fingers on a keyboard and brings them to fruition. If you'd like to hang out with Yessi, join her in her reader group on Facebook
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