Adored: A Love Letters Novel

by Kristen Blakely

  Somewhere, in the heart of the heat, was love.

  He cupped her full breasts, his fingers twisting and rolling her nipples until they were rock hard and painful. She writhed against his hips, pushing her breasts into his hands, demanding more.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered. Reverence filled his tone. “My pagan goddess.”

  She rocked against him, the motion thrumming against her most sensitive spot, jolting sparks of unbearable sensation through her. This time, she controlled the pace, and he let her. He did not force her to endure a frantically-paced climb to a mind-blowing orgasm. There was no terrified skidding along the edge of insanity. The agenda, the timing was hers to command. His perfect body was hers to use.

  She shifted her angle to take in more of him. Her pace increased. The pressure built, and with it, the swell of pleasure until, arching back with the force of her orgasm, she rode them both off the edge of desire and into ecstasy. With a hoarse, guttural cry, his muscles clenching, Rowan found his release in her body.

  For several moments, she remained poised over him until exhaustion crashed through her. Her body quivering, Vera wilted against his chest, physically spent but still riding her emotional high. The full-length contact of her body against his was sensual and intimate. His hand caressed her hair, gently running his fingers through the tangled waves. His steady heartbeat was more soothing than a lullaby.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I know.” Vera smiled. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. All was finally right with her world.

  Chapter 11

  Vera set aside her glass of orange juice as the balcony door opened and Rowan stepped out to join her for breakfast. He wore only a pair of sweatpants and a hint of five o’clock shadow along the chiseled line of his jaw, but still managed to look like a supermodel. In hindsight, she wondered how she could have missed all the clues: his designer clothes and his taste for an expensive lifestyle as reflected in his choice of restaurants, cars, and hotels; brief mentions of client contracts and photo shoots; and a body that was made to be worshipped by the camera.

  Those clues, she supposed, could also have described a male escort of the most expensive kind, or a porn star.

  Rowan sat across from her, ignoring the magnificent city view of Miami from the Mandarin Oriental. “You’ve got that frown between your eyes again. You’re thinking too hard. Should I be worried?”

  “How disconnected from the world did I have to be to not have known that you’re one of the top-earning male models in the world?”

  “You don’t have a TV, and you don’t read GQ, Vogue, Esquire, or People. How could you have known?”

  She pressed her fingertips to her brow. “I made a fool of myself in the ballroom last night, didn’t I?”

  “I’m sure Iris will convince everyone there the fault was mine, which it was,” he confessed. “She told me to come clean the night after I took you to YOLO.”

  “Really? She said nothing to me over the past four weeks.”

  “She probably figured it was our business. The grave was my own to dig, after all.”

  Vera expelled her breath in a sigh. “No more pranks, Rowan, not even in good fun. No more lies. I can’t take it. I want…I need honesty from you. I know I’ll never be the most beautiful girl in the room, but if you’re going to keep looking at me like I am, I need to know you truly believe it.”

  “You know I do.” He looked at her, all traces of humor gone from his eyes. “I don’t know if the truth made any difference. Did it?”

  How could he even ask? Couldn’t he tell? “Rowan?”

  He looked away, a sliver of vulnerability cracking his seemingly natural and boundless confidence. “All I want is something like what Iris and Brad have—a love you know is real from the way they look at each other—but it’s hard to fall in love with the whole world watching. It’s hard to believe love could be real when the women I date dress and preen for the paparazzi they know are following me.”

  Her heart bled for him. “Oh, Rowan.”

  “But you were different. You were willing to date an escort.”

  Vera managed a rueful sigh. “Ah, yes. Heck, I told all my colleagues that I had fallen in love with an escort.”

  Rowan chuckled. “Yes, you did.” His grin faded. “I didn’t intend for the joke to carry as far as it did, but I couldn’t bring myself to end it, not until I knew for certain you’d fallen in love with me—the real me, not the model me.”

  “And you do know it now, Rowan.”

  He reached across the table and laid a hand over hers. Their fingers entwined. Their hands fit perfectly together. Vera smiled. How could it not be a good omen?

  “Is love enough, Vera?” Rowan asked quietly. “Do you think you would ever consider marrying someone like me?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Not if the answer right now is no.” His half-smile turned wry. “I’m asking if I can see you again, and again, until your answer becomes yes.”

  Vera stared at him. The spark of warmth in the vicinity of her heart surged out until it tingled from her fingertips. She nodded and smiled. Her fingers tightened against his. “Yes, of course.”

  Chapter 12

  Vera smiled as she swung her Honda Accord under the slowly rising garage doors. Rowan’s rental car was parked on the grass beside her townhouse. After a long day volunteering at the family health clinic, the only thing she wanted was a quiet evening at home with her two favorite people in the world, Allison and Rowan.

  In the three months that passed since Rowan came clean on his real profession, Rowan and Allison had become best buddies. Allison’s giggles were the first sound Vera heard when she entered the house, followed by Rowan’s smooth baritone. “No, I don’t think that flower suits your hair. It’s better in your mouth, Alli-naut.”

  Vera peeked into the dining room. “Is there a problem here?” Allison’s tray was a smear of food, and a stalk of broccoli decorated her hair. Vera swallowed a snort of laughter. “Looks like she got the better of you.”

  Rowan winced. “Sorry. I was going to hide the evidence before you got home.” He looked at the tray. “When did she decide macaroni and cheese wasn’t her favorite food anymore?”

  “Oh, on Wednesday. I should have told you.” She set her tote on the kitchen countertop and shrugged out of her light cardigan. “What did you two do today?”

  “Went to the beach playground, and then ran down to the Las Olas Art Festival.”

  “Did you get hit on by every single and not-so-single woman?”

  Rowan shrugged. “It’s her fault.” He pointed to Allison. “She’s the chick magnet.”

  “Riiight.” Vera dragged out the word. “Thank you though for handling Allison when Darren couldn’t take her this weekend.”

  “Not a problem. We had fun, didn’t we, Alli-naut?”

  “Fun, fun!” Allison thumped on her tray, sending macaroni bits to the floor. “More flower!”

  Rowan handed over several more broccoli stalks before pushing to his feet. “I picked up a Riesling to go with dinner. Want a glass now?”

  Vera’s eyes widened. “You made dinner?”

  “Didn’t think you’d want the bother of eating out after a long day at the clinic. I know I’d rather hang out here.” He walked barefoot across the kitchen floor, every bit a supermodel in his T-shirt and faded denim jeans. “I cheated though. Ordered the miso black cod you liked from East Wind Bistro, and then cooked up rice and bok choy to go with it.”

  A smile toying on her lips, Vera sat at the dining table. She did not think she would ever get used to the warm feeling of being cherished the way Rowan cherished her, with simple acts that screamed of love. He seemed a little “off” that day though. She could not quite put her finger on it. The closest description she could manage was that he appeared watchful and restive, though she could not imagine why.

  Dinner was largely a success, their adu
lt conversation punctuated by Allison’s demands for juice and ice cream, both of which were firmly refused. By common consent, the dishes were left on the table while Rowan carted Allison off to bed and Vera retreated to her bathroom for a long soak.

  Sitting up to her neck in bubbles, Vera slowly dragged the sponge over her body. The hot water eased away the aches of a long day and an even longer week, and the scent of citrus verbena lulled her senses. In the silence and privacy of her bath, after yet another delightful weekend with Rowan, Vera realized she was no longer fully happy.

  She should have been. It had been a perfect week. Rowan and she spoke on the phone twice a day, sometimes more. He showed up every Friday evening, usually in time to hang out with Allison for an hour before Darren arrived to pick up his daughter, and then stayed through Sunday evening to welcome Allison home before rushing to the airport to catch the last flight back to New York.

  Typically, Vera and Rowan spent Saturdays together, exploring Palm Beach, Fort Lauderdale, and Miami, and on Sundays, Rowan chilled out in her townhouse while she went into the clinic for her volunteer shift. Occasionally, when Darren could not take Allison—like this particular weekend—Rowan took on the thankless task of entertaining a high-maintenance, rambunctious toddler for ten or more hours.

  The week had been perfect. The weekend had been perfect. The only problem was “perfect” was no longer enough. Vera wanted more. She wanted Allison to have more time with Rowan than just an hour or two each weekend. She wanted more time with Rowan than just the weekends.

  She wanted to give him more.

  Once, Rowan had asked her if she would ever consider marrying a guy like him.

  Vera inhaled the crisp fragrance of verbena, drawing it deep into her lungs. Three months after he had asked the question, she was finally ready to give him an answer.

  The house was unusually quiet when she walked out of her bedroom in a dressing gown. She peeked into Allison’s bedroom, and a fond smile tugged across her face. Rowan dozed on the love seat, his hand resting on a Dr. Seuss book. Allison, in her PJs, was sprawled across his chest, fast asleep.

  Love swamping her, Vera took a picture with her mind and slipped it into her heart.

  About a half hour later, Rowan’s light footsteps creaked the wooden floorboards. Vera looked up from her cup of steaming chamomile tea and smiled at him. “Do you want one?”

  He shook his head as he dragged his hand across his face. He looked exhausted, as if even a smile was too much effort at that moment. “I have to leave in five minutes to catch my flight to New York.” A soft sigh forced its way out of him. “God, I hate this part of the day. Leaving you and Allison.” He slipped his hand into the pocket of his denim jeans. “I…” He closed his eyes and shook his head again.

  He did not just look exhausted. He looked defeated, a far cry from the charming lover who had sat across from her at dinner, handling her daughter with easy, amused patience.

  “What is it?” Vera asked, alarmed.

  “Next week. We’ll talk next week.”

  “Rowan, are you sure?”

  “Yeah. It’ll keep. I’ve got to go.”

  She could not shake the feeling that something was terribly, horribly wrong. Was he walking out on the relationship just as she was about to jump in with two feet? She followed him to the door. “Rowan, do you remember the question you asked me?”

  “I’ve asked you lots of questions.”

  “Only one that really mattered. One I hadn’t answered.”

  He paused and looked at her, searching her face.

  Her heart trembled, but her voice was steady. “Will you marry me?”

  “Are you repeating the question I asked you, or are you asking me?”

  “I’m asking you. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes.” His answer was simply stated without any hesitation. His breath tore out of him as he raked fingers through his hair. “Thank God you asked. I thought I’d wrecked the evening.”

  Her eyes flashed wide. “What?”

  From his jeans pocket, he pulled out a light blue Tiffany box decorated with silver trim. “I tried to set up the perfect engagement memory, but I forgot the candles and music, and then after dinner, I fell asleep.”

  You fell asleep reading to my daughter after spending the whole day taking care of her. If there was a better reason for falling asleep, she couldn’t think of it. Vera stared at the box he held out. “So you were going to put off asking me till next week?”

  He nodded.

  “Never put off happiness.” She tipped up the cover of the box to reveal an engagement ring with a marquise cut center diamond accented by a row of channel-set round diamonds on either side. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  He removed the ring from the box and slid it into her finger. “No. Thank you.” He drew her into a kiss.

  An undercurrent of passion anchored the kiss, but it offered far more than passion. The kiss swamped her in love and drowned her with tenderness. It was the kiss of a lonely traveler finally finding his way home. Tears stung her eyes. She pulled back, and he rested his forehead against hers. “Do you have to go?” she whispered.

  “No,” he said. “I can’t leave now. Not after you’ve said yes.”

  Vera chuckled. “You said yes.”

  “Same difference.” Rowan laughed. He drew in a deep breath and released it in a shuddering sigh. “I feel like I can breathe again.”

  “Is this why you’ve been edgy all weekend?” Her voice took on a teasing edge. “Did the proposal wreck your peace of mind?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re so even-keeled, and you ooze confidence. I didn’t even know you could get nervous.”

  He shrugged as his smile regained its stunning edge. “I’m better at hiding it. Training.”

  Vera and Rowan made love that night with the sweet familiarity of longtime lovers. Their fingers entwined as he entered her; their breaths united in a kiss. Their joining was like a dance, so graceful it seemed choreographed. He knew exactly where to touch her and how to elicit sighs of surrender and whimpers of need.

  Long after they climaxed together, he remained in her. Vera closed her eyes and relaxed in the certainty of his arms around her.

  “When would you like to get married?” he asked.

  Tomorrow. Vera sighed. If only she were free to follow her whim. She did not have parents to invite to the wedding, but her assorted uncles, aunts, and cousins would be deeply offended if they weren’t included in the celebrations.

  And there was Darren. He had to be told. She would have to negotiate his visitation rights with Allison.

  “How about next month?” she suggested. “It’ll be a crazy rush, but I’d need at least that much time to turn in my notice if we’re to move to New York.”

  He stiffened. “You’d move to New York for me?”

  “Your job is fairly location-specific. I’m a pediatrician. I can find work anywhere.”

  Laughter rumbled in his chest. “You’re amazing. What did I do to deserve you?”

  You cherished me. Vera did not reply aloud. With a smile, she snuggled against him and began dreaming of her wedding day.

  Chapter 13

  Vera glanced at her watch before looking around the busy restaurant. Where was Darren? In another five minutes, she would be the recipient of dirty looks from the other customers waiting for a table.

  Motion bustled by the door, and Darren strode in. A tall man in a gray business suit, he looked around, his gaze sweeping over her twice before she raised her hand and waved to get his attention.

  He made his way over to her table. “Ah, there you are.” The thin smile did not reach his eyes. He sat across from her and reached for the menu, but did not open it. “So, what’s the occasion? Tell me you didn’t drag me out of important meetings to complain about the fact that I couldn’t take Allison last week.”

  “No, but since you mentioned it, why couldn’t you take Allison last week? You’ve missed f
ive visits in the past three months.”

  “Is it a problem?”

  The snap in his voice startled her. Darren was not in the running for husband-of-the-year, but his cruelty, if it could even be called that, consisted more of self-centeredness and neglect rather than outright hostility. A year ago, she might have taken his anger without comment, but at some point in the past three months, thanks to Rowan, she had grown a tougher spine to complement her style. “Is work bothering you, or is it something else?”

  He waved the question away. “Nothing you need concern yourself about.”

  “It is my concern, especially if you are this short-tempered around Allison.”

  A muscle ticked in his cheek. “It’s something personal, and it won’t affect Allison.” He did not elaborate.

  Vera did not doubt for an instant that Darren had a girlfriend; more likely, he had several girlfriends. He had always used his blond good looks to his best advantage. “Actually, I’d like to talk to you about your longer-term visitation plan with Allison.”

  He frowned and leaned back in his chair. “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll be moving out of state.”

  “What?”

  “To New York.”

  He snorted. “You’re chasing that model, what’s his name…Ronin…to New York? Really, Vera, I thought more of you.”

  “His name is Rowan, and we’re getting married.”

  Darren’s jaw dropped, and he blinked hard several times.

  He looked like a goldfish. Vera set her menu down. Her diamond ring caught the sunlight spilling in through the window and sparkled on her finger. “He asked me to marry him last night, and we decided it made the most sense, career-wise, for Allison and me to move to New York.”

  “Really? That’s a change of tune.”

  “What do you mean?”