Bound for Nirvana

by Kendra Leigh

  Over the course of our conversation, I encountered a multitude of emotions. From shame that I’d given my dad’s crazy allegations even a shred of consideration—it all seemed so ludicrous now—to feeling mortified at what I’d done to myself and how they’d had to find me. And finally, to helpless bouts of emotional purging when I just couldn’t prevent the deluge of tears from falling.

  Later, I’d been allowed to bathe, and Ethan had wept silently as he’d gently washed my depleted frame with a soft cloth. He cleansed my skin, my hair, and my soul, his voice breaking through convulsive breaths to utter threats of how he was going to feed me, and promises to keep me from harm, to heal my soul and love me for eternity. I watched as his eyes skimmed over my body before wrapping me in a towel, the sight of me annihilating him with a fresh wave of sadness and anguish. He seemed consumed with remorse, apologizing endlessly for not being there through my grief, for not finding me sooner. The pain in his voice was unbearable, and so I would cover his lips with mine and kiss him until the trembling abated. I would allow neither him nor me to shoulder the guilt of the misery and sufferance bestowed upon us. Only one man was to blame for that.

  In between, I slept and Ethan never left my side. He successfully managed to stave off the queue of eager visitors, insisting they waited until I was home. And after a good night’s sleep, and proof that I could keep a light meal down, the doctor finally allowed me to go home.

  A blazing trail of shimmering orange zoomed around the delicate colored corals—Nemo, with Dory hot on his tail. Their frivolity brought a smile to my lips, a calmness warming me from the inside.

  This morning I’d supplied a sample of my DNA for analysis. Although I didn’t need a piece of paper to confirm who my father was, Harley Lawson, it seemed, needed further convincing. Even now, after everything that had happened, he would still deny me.

  But it wasn’t going to budge this smile from my lips. I’d shed my last tear over Harley fucking Lawson.

  “Soup,” Jackson announced. “Sit up, kiddo, and tell me this isn’t the best minestrone you ever tasted.”

  My sleepy eyes drifted up to find his, crinkled at the edges with a genuinely affectionate smile. Ethan, after much persuading, was in his office making a few urgent calls, but refusing to leave me alone, had left me under Jackson’s watchful eye. Jackson, along with everyone else who’d laid eyes on me, had insisted on feeding me—again. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted minestrone soup, period.”

  He scowled. “You haven’t lived.”

  Cautiously, I lifted the spoon to my mouth, the steaming vapor carrying the array of delicious aromas into my nostrils. I took a sip. “Wow. Tastes like a slice of heaven, Jackson. I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “Sure I can. That’s my grandmother’s recipe. She taught me everything I know.”

  “She taught you well.” I began to eat heartily, eager to build up my strength again. “How come your grandmother brought you up, Jackson?”

  A flicker of something flashed in his eyes, gone before it could be named. “She was all I needed. Now eat. Apple pie for afterwards.”

  “You’re as bad as Ethan.”

  “Did somebody mention my name?” Ethan’s sultry tones drifted into the room before he did, his face lighting up when he saw me eating. “Oh, good, you fed her.”

  “I’m not a cat.”

  Settling on his knees next to my chair, he leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose over mine. “No, you’re definitely not a cat. Although, I would swear I’ve heard you purr once or twice.” He hitched a brow suggestively, and I felt my cheeks heat in response.

  “I’ll take off if you’re all done, boss,” Jackson called from the kitchen. “Pie in the oven, if she eats up like a good girl.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I’ll make sure she does. Thanks, Jackson, you’re the man.”

  “No problem, boss. Everything else in order?”

  “To the letter.”

  “Fantastic, I’ll be on standby.”

  “Standby for what?” My curiosity piqued.

  Ethan and Jackson colluding together made me nervous. They had this uncanny way of communicating, without actually saying much. Last time they’d had a broken conversation was when Ethan had gone tearing off in search of Sloane. Luckily, he hadn’t found him, and although he’d accepted the photos were nothing but a cheap shot to rile him, and he’d agreed to leave things alone, you never really knew with Ethan. He wasn’t a person to let things go, especially when it involved a threat to our relationship.

  “What are you two up to?”

  Ethan tapped his nose as Jackson waved over his shoulder and disappeared into the foyer.

  “I hope it has nothing to do with Sloane. I told you, he’s not worth it.”

  “And I agreed. There is nothing for you to worry about. Now are you ready for your pie?”

  I sighed. He wasn’t going to tell me. “Yes, could we have it on the terrace?”

  “No, you might catch a chill.”

  I rolled my eyes again.

  “Maybe tomorrow. Besides Jia’s coming over soon.”

  “Again?” Groaning, I passed him my empty dish, and he smiled with approval. “I don’t want Jia to come over, E. Don’t get me wrong, everyone’s been wonderful, really. But all this… It has to stop.”

  Ever since I’d been home from hospital, I’d had a constant stream of visitors. Ethan’s parents had stayed in town in case I needed anything. Abby and Damon had each visited several times, along with Jia. Jackson’s support was endless, and although I loved them all, and none had inundated me with questions, the pity in their eyes was unmistakable. What I really wanted was to move on from this… blip. Just spend some time with Ethan and forget.

  “All what?” he frowned, bemused.

  “Everyone treating me as though I’m made of glass. It’s been four days. I’m good. I’m not going to break. I just want—need—some normality. I need to get out, get some air.”

  At first, he seemed to hesitate, as if considering my request. Then suddenly, he smiled in assent. “Good job we’re getting out of here, then.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  A gentle breeze feathered over my near-naked body, offering a welcome reprieve from the smoldering heat of the sun. The exotic fragrance of tropical plants infused the warm air, mango and lemon grass, orchids and hibiscus—to name just a few—creating a beautiful, heady cocktail of aromas. Sighing, I pulled the scented air deep into my lungs before releasing it on a slow, prolonged exhale—a sure sign of my blissful, heavenly state. I stretched, wriggling my back and ass to further flatten the lumps of sand that undulated beneath the towel I was lying on while my toes tunneled under the hot grains to find a cool patch.

  Lying on the towel in the sand next to me was my reason for living. The essence of his woody, all-male scent caught on the breeze, dominating even the tropical fusion. But even without that, I knew he was there, because that sense of being whole and safe and alive was governing my awareness. The weightless feeling in my chest, the ease at which I breathed, and the mere fact that my heart beat effortlessly was unmitigated affirmation that he was near. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy or relaxed in my entire life. If I’d ever been asked to define in detail what my concept of paradise was, this would be it.

  While enjoying their extended vacation, Richard and Veronica Wilde had added to their list of material assets, and we’d spent the last two weeks basking in its bliss. The beautiful, private reef island was set in a heavenly peaceful bay on the north side of Panama. It boasted a small, white sandy beach at the edge of a two acre tropical oasis, with a boathouse and swim dock. Surrounded by a shallow lagoon with a circle of mangroves reaching out about a hundred feet, the island was perfectly protected from the waves, leaving the aquamarine waters crystal clear and blissfully serene. The house itself was small by Wilde standards, built from local hardwood, with just two bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, and one large combined living
and kitchen area taking up the entire second floor. The space was separated from the magnificent mountain views by a glass wall leading out onto a decked patio area, complete with outdoor furniture and hot tub.

  We’d spent the entire two weeks virtually, if not completely, naked, either making love, lying in the sun making love, or idling in the lagoon—making love. Fully dressing on only the handful of occasions we’d taken the panga style boat out to the nearby village to collect groceries from the market or eat at one of the local restaurants.

  As promised, Ethan had healed me. He’d nourished my weary body back to a healthy weight, feeding me almost obsessively. He’d rebuilt my shattered soul and bolstered my fragile psyche, and most of all, he’d nurtured and cherished what was once a broken heart.

  Finally free from the nightmares which had plagued me almost my whole life, I’d slept more peacefully than I’d ever imagined was possible. The sun had kissed my paling skin, and I felt healthier and stronger and sexier than ever.

  And I knew I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

  Even behind my closed eyes, I felt the weight of Ethan’s lust-laden gaze drifting over the contours of my body. My nipples puckered and pebbled underneath my barely there bikini in response to his worshipful scrutiny, which hadn’t waned once in our entire vacation. The man was insatiable, but I wasn’t complaining.

  He stifled a laugh.

  “What?” I muttered without opening my eyes.

  “I don’t even need to touch you and you respond, you dirty girl.”

  The corner of my mouth twitched as I tried to stifle amusement of my own. I opened my eyes and offered him a sideways look. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Wilde.”

  Hitching a dubious brow, he reached out to tweak my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, applying just enough pressure to elongate the already stiff peak, sending a jolt of pain-related pleasure to the apex of my thighs. I closed my eyes briefly to stem the instantly arousing effect. When I opened them, his sultry blue eyes were making their appraising journey up from my breasts to my lips, which he brushed with a feather light kiss. “Bullshit.”

  Before I could counter, he shifted, his tanned, honed machine of a body braced above me to block out the light of the sun, his hands on either side of my shoulders as he gazed down at me with eyes full of wicked promise.

  Mustering a sexy smirk, I dragged my lower lip through my teeth in a deliberate tease. “You’re blocking out the last of the rays, baby.” My brow flickered provocatively as I motioned downwards with a nod of my head. “Perhaps if you moved a little… south?”

  Ethan’s lip curled into his sexy as sin smile as he pushed my knees apart with his and settled into the space between them. “I think you’ve had enough sun. And besides, I thought you said I wasn’t affecting you?” He reached up as he spoke and pulled on the tie around my neck. The triangles of fabric fell away to expose my breasts.

  I wasn’t even sure why I was wearing a bikini, as there was no one else around to see. But Ethan had insisted, saying that he enjoyed the element of surprise each time he unwrapped me, and unless I wanted him to be buried inside me for the entire vacation, I’d better keep my bits covered up. I’d done as I was told and to my delight, he’d been buried inside me most of it anyway.

  He leaned forward to mouth my left nipple, his tongue flicking wickedly over the sensitive button before nibbling gently.

  Moaning quietly, I arched my back, pushing up to encourage his greedy mouth. “Oh, I was just being coy, Mr. Wilde. You most definitely affect me.”

  “Oh, I know, can’t-wait-for-you-to-be-Mrs. Wilde, I most definitely do.” He treated my other nipple to the same delicious torture before leaning away with a salacious look in his eye and adding, “The question is—how much?” He traced the tip of a finger around one nipple, before lazily trailing down the middle of my torso, dipping into my navel and down to the mound where his gaze scorched through the delicate fabric to my slick and ready sex.

  His tongue flicked idly over his lower lip in anticipation, like a hungry predator eyeing its prey before deciding to pounce. Continuing its journey, his fingertip made its way over the mound to the small protuberance in the fabric, the slightest graze of my clit causing my vulva to quiver beneath his touch. Pleased with my response, he sucked in an appreciative breath before allowing his now-blood-red-with-arousal lips to part slightly, his gaze locking on to mine with knowing intensity.

  Knowing my man well, I had no doubt he was eager to observe my facial reaction when his finger shifted to hook under the fabric of my bikini in search of evidence. I groaned as I felt my pupils dilate and my eyelids flutter closed as he dipped into the silky wetness between my folds, spreading it around my pulsing opening and up to rub delicate, languid circles around my vibrating clit.

  “Look at me, Cinders,” he ordered huskily with a marginal nod of the head. “Oh yes. You’re affected, alright, baby. Your tight, hot, wet pussy is begging for me.” He slipped a finger inside and my muscles clenched in delicious, ecstatic response. “You see how you grip me, you greedy girl? How you entice me?” His finger plunged a little deeper once, twice, before retracting completely, leaving me gasping for his touch. He gripped the scrap of bikini and dragged it down my legs, tossing it aside before swooping down to crush his mouth over my needy sex.

  An involuntary cry hissed from my lips as he hooked my leg over his shoulder, his tongue sweeping long, languorous strokes over my saturated flesh. He reached up, his fingers parting me, his mouth tasting and devouring me.

  “Christ, you’re as sweet as fucking honey.” His breath was hot, and his words vibrating against my bundle of hypersensitive nerves were enough to send waves of red-hot heat flurrying through my body.

  Burrowing my fingers into his hair, I took a firm grip and began to writhe sinfully against his voracious mouth. Ethan lapped at my clit, his fingers sinking inside me at that precious, detonating moment, when every cell and every sense and every nerve ending is so wholly captivated by the divine sensation exploding within that it is almost impossible to hold on to your sanity.

  With assiduous precision, he brought me down from my high, gently working his fingers until every last shred of my mind-shattering climax had made its way through my trembling body.

  When I opened my eyes he’d wriggled out of his shorts and was kneeling between my quivering legs, his swollen, twitching cock jutting out with justified arrogance. My breath was coming in short, sharp gasps as he widened the gap between his knees to brace himself, his thigh muscles taut, his strong arms and chest rippling under his sun-kissed skin as he pushed my legs up and wide.

  I was more bewitched than ever by this powerful, godlike creature before me. He wore his beauty and splendor with unashamed poise, and his love and desire for me was as tangible and pure as the blood in his veins.

  My hands reached out to my sides, clawing fruitlessly at the soft white sand as he guided himself toward me, his hot, sleek head pulsing and jerking with anticipation at my slippery, eager opening.

  “I love you.” His words were raw with desire as he sank into me, filling and stretching, eyes dark and covetous as they locked into mine.

  Our unison was whole and complete, a blending of our bodies, our hearts and our minds, of love and of passion.

  “And I… love…you,” I pledged as once again, I was pulled under into a spiraling world of sensation.

  Lost in love and slain by lust.

  We curled up in front of the open log fire, our naked limbs entwined underneath the blanket. In contrast to the heat of the midday sun, the evening had brought rain, and with it, a distinct chill.

  “You want to go to bed?” Ethan asked, breathing the words into my hair at the crown of my head.

  His voice had stirred me from my musings. I’d been momentarily lost in the hypnotic power of the dancing, flickering flames. “No,” I sighed. “I don’t want the day to end.” I curled in closer to him. “I don’t want this to end.
I don’t want to go home. I’m not ready to share you with the world again.”

  “This will never end, baby.” He kissed my head and smoothed my hair. “We take the most essential part of this with us wherever we go.” In the confines of his embrace, I felt him still, becoming a little tense as he paused, before adding, “And other than our children, I swear you’ll never have to share me with anyone.”

  I held my breath, if only for a second, while I allowed the word children to roll around in my head, curious to see how it felt. It felt extraordinarily good. “How many children?” The question was out, surprising me by its arrival, more because I hadn’t even hesitated over the matter of children, only the amount he might expect me to have.

  Ethan’s lengthy pause told me he was just as surprised. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know, maybe four, five?”

  “Five?” I pushed myself up to see his amused expression. “Forget it.” I watched his face fall and quickly added, “Maybe two.”

  The smile on his face spread so quickly it was glinting from his eyes in a nanosecond. His hands moved to cup my face. “You’re saying yes? You’ll have my children?”

  “I’ll have our children.”

  “Ours, yes. Fuck, I can’t believe you said yes.”

  Suddenly, I felt a little panicked. “And what if I hadn’t?”

  He shrugged. “Then I… I would be content with just you and me.”

  I searched his eyes. “Really?”

  “Yes. Baby, there is nothing I would like more than for there to be little bits of you and little bits of me, concocted to make little bits of us. But you being happy and healthy is what’s most paramount to me.”

  I smiled and nodded. “No more than two though. And not yet.”