Let Me Love You: A Best Friend’s Sibling Romance

by Moore, M. K.

  He looks so determined, so upset that I can do nothing but agree.

  Starting this afternoon, I will have a bodyguard named Jacob whenever I leave the apartment.

  Won’t that be fun?

  Chapter 10

  Malachi

  My wife is incredible. In early January, she threw together a reception so I could meet the rest of her family.

  Her grandparents were a trip. Her grandfather, Malcolm is a tall white man with silver hair. He kind of looks like an older, taller George Clooney.

  Now, her grandmother, Janet, is a strikingly beautiful, short, black woman who told me jokes all night—not grandma jokes either. These were the kind of jokes that would make my old platoon blush. I’ve never laughed so hard or so long in my life.

  I found some common ground with Mallory’s father, Eddie: we’re both Broncos fans. Probably the only two in the whole state of New York.

  Her mother, on the other hand, took her time warming up to me. But I managed to win her over with my mad karaoke skills. The woman loves to sing.

  By Valentine’s Day, Margo has tried calling and texting me a million times. I have ignored every single one. I'm not trying to be petty, but she’s the one who’s done this. I knew exactly what she meant when she said we rushed into this, that we didn't know each other. She simply meant was that I wasn't good enough for her best friend. I didn’t say anything to Mallory because she was already so upset, but it did have me wondering for a split second if that was true. Margo couldn't even look at me when I was in the hospital. Not to mention that she only came once to see me even though she was only three hours away. I got it then and I know it now.

  Margo may be right, but I’m selfish enough that I don’t care. I love Mallory more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything, but can this last? I need to get out of my head. I pretend to work, but I’m just a glorified robot. I watch security footage all day, checking for things out of the ordinary. Eventually, my work will be more in-depth but, for now, I’m learning the basics. Security is very different from being in the military and it is taking some getting used to.

  Jacob, my bodyguard buddy, is working out well for Mallory. It fucking kills me that I can't protect her myself. It irritates me even more that she needs it in the first damn place. Production of Mallory's movie has been halted until that little fuck can be located. No one has any idea where he is, and I say good riddance. Why they don't just fire him is beyond me. Even now, I watch her plugging away at a book she won't tell me about. I glance between two of my monitors at her. Her hair is up in one of those messy buns and she just has a black silk robe on. Fuck, she’s so damn beautiful and she’s all mine. I hear a little ding from her phone and her saying “shit” under her breath. The flustered look on his face is adorable. When she chews on her bottom lip, I have to adjust my suddenly hard cock. There is something incredibly sexy about that one motion. I never noticed it before on other women, but when she does it she has my undivided attention.

  “Malachi,” she says. Her voice in the quiet room almost has me dropping my coffee.

  “Yeah, babe.” I ask.

  “I forgot that I have a book signing this weekend in Seattle. I don’t know how. My PA has been reminding me every day for months. Can you come with me? We can make a little mini-vacation of it.”

  “Sure, that sounds like fun,” I say, and she smiles, jumping up. I hear Seattle is nice. I’ve never been, but I am up for an adventure with my wife.

  “Thank God. I’ll book your flight. Mine has been booked for months. Hopefully we can get you on the same flight. My publisher sent my books ahead to the hotel already. We have to rent a car.”

  “Okay, what can I do?”

  “Nothing, everything is taken care of. I went to the social security office and the DMV this morning. Officially changed my name,” she says, surprising me.

  “I didn't think you were going to do that,” I say, surprised. I stand and walk over to her.

  “Of course. I'm your wife. I want everyone to know it. My next two books will be the first to officially be by Mallory Anne Goranson,” she says excitedly. I walk over and pull her into my arms. I feel like my heart is going to explode. Sometimes this woman makes me forget I’m half the man I used to be, with her I can almost pretend I’m whole.

  “What about your brand? Your publisher is allowing this?” I ask, as reality sets in.

  “Well, it is unusual, but my readers are loyal to a fault. They love me just as much as I love them. I’m not worried about that at all. I made my case to the publisher and they agreed with me.

  “We should celebrate. Let's see if we can get a table somewhere tonight. I know we were going to have a quiet Valentine’s Day in, but we should go out,” I say, deciding that this is excellent news indeed.

  “I'll call The Acadia,” she says.

  Twenty minutes later, we’re dressed up and on our way. The restaurant had a table available at nine. I have to stop and stare at her. She takes my breath away. How did I get so fucking lucky?

  The small taxi smells like old cabbage, but I’m not going to let that ruin the mood.

  “You look beautiful, Mrs. Goranson,” I whisper in her ear while my fingertips explore the skin left bare at her collarbone. The navy-blue strapless dress is entirely too tight to wear in public, but really, it's her sky-high, sparkly silver heels that drive me wild. Her perfume is making me dizzy. Shit, I think that is all her. Sweet and delicate. The goosebumps that rise underneath my fingers are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My cock hardens with all these thoughts rattling in my brain, and I want nothing more than to sink inside of her. Fuck. I should have thought this going out thing through.

  “Thank you, Mr. Goranson. Those dress pants look mighty fine on you and—fuck, that arm porn you got going on … it's making me wet,” she whispers, trailing her fingers on my forearms. The sleeves of my crisp, white dress shirt are rolled up to my forearms. She moves her hands to my navy tie and tugs on it, pulling me closer to her. I can't resist those pouty lips, so I devour them. A throat clears, and I realize that we have stopped in front of The Acadia. “Oops,” she says, giggling. I adjust my cock and manage to get us both out of the cab. She holds my hand as we make our way inside.

  I've never been here, but I'm pleasantly surprised to see that the intimate booths are handicap accessible. The hostess leads us to one of them and we sit. A few minutes later, a waiter comes over and takes our drink orders. A Guinness for me and, for some reason, a Coke for Mallory. I note that as odd but move on from it. The circular booth has us sitting pretty far apart, but she closes the distance between us, scooting around to sit right next to me. Her long leg crosses over my good thigh. Her foot dangles between my legs. I can't stop myself from stroking her ankle. I know she can feel my hard length underneath her calf.

  Her soft moans have me daring to stroke farther up her leg, past the material of her dress and the small barrier of her soaking wet panties. My knuckle grazes her clit before stroking two long fingers inside of her. She grips my forearm hard as she quickly comes.

  I leave my fingers right where they are as the waiter drops our drinks off along with some menus.

  When he moves away from the table, I slowly pull my fingers from her cunt and adjust her panties. Looking her in the eyes, I bring my fingers to my mouth and groan as her taste hits my tongue. Damn, I will never get tired of that. She tastes like Heaven.

  “Gah, that shouldn't be so fucking hot,” she says, adjusting her dress and picking up a menu. I chuckle.

  “You like it because you are a bad girl, Jezebel.” I say, shrugging as I pick up the other menu.

  The Acadia is a Japanese and French fusion restaurant. So, I get some sushi and she gets crepes. She is obsessed with pancakes.

  “Be that as it may, Husband, that was so filthy.”

  “Is that a complaint?” I ask, quirking my eyebrow at her as I take a long pull from my beer.

  “God, no. You can fingerbang me anytime you want to.�
� She takes a sip of her soda. She said it with such a straight face but as soon as she swallows, she laughs and laughs until she is gulping for air.

  “Babe, breathe.” I clap her on the back.

  “I'm trying, but I mean, who says something like that?” she asks.

  “You do. Ain't nothing wrong with that filthy mouth, Jezebel. Not one damn thing,” I say reassuringly. “We are exactly what the other needs, do you not agree?”

  “I do, but wives don't talk like that,” she says, drinking more of her soda.

  “My wife does,” I say, shrugging. “My incredibly sexy, foul-mouthed wife and since I like it, I’ll put my stamp of approval to my naughty wife’s ways any day of the week.” I nuzzle into her neck just as the waiter drops our food off and hightails it away from the table. I'm going to leave him a large tip. After we eat, sharing our plates with each other, a slow song comes on. I realize I want to dance with her. Even with two good legs, I never wanted to dance with anyone before.

  I stand up and extend my hand to her.

  “Dance with me?” I ask.

  “Can you do that?” she asks, looking concerned, her smile faltering a little.

  “A slow song? Yeah.” I might pay for it later, but I’m dancing with my wife tonight, come hell or high water.

  She nods eagerly and takes my hand as we move to the dance floor. “At Last” by Etta James plays through the speakers and we aren't the only couple dancing, though I can’t help wishing we were. Pulling her close to me, we sway to the music. Her arms are around my neck, mine are around her waist.

  “This is nice,” she murmurs against my chest.

  “It is, Jez,” I respond. “I am going to love you forever, Mallory.”

  “Me too. So much, me too.”

  Later, at home, I give her the Valentine’s Day gift I’ve been holding on to. I managed to get signed copies of her favorite trilogy by Nora Roberts. It took some digging to find out who her favorite author is, and then I figured out how to get the books. Turns out her husband has a bookstore in Maryland that sells all her books, most already signed. That seems like a good gig to me. I rented a car, drove down there a few days ago, and got what I needed. It was a pretty cool town. I’m going to have to take her there one day soon.

  “Oh my God, I love them, babe. Thank you,” she says, putting the books on the coffee table. She kisses me. “Okay, so I got you two gifts. This is the first thing,” she says handing me a bag. I’m a bit disappointed with her lack of enthusiasm over the books, but she seems really excited to give me mine, so I let it go.

  I pull lots of tissue paper from the bag. Inside is a leather wallet. I chuckle. When we went to Vegas, she got a look at the wallet that I’ve had since sixth grade. It has a Velcro strip. It’s childish, but I’ve never seen the need to buy a new one. She hasn’t let me forget it either. “Thank you, Jez. It’s great.”

  “Yay, but that’s not all. I got one more thing, but the thing is you won’t actually get it for a while,” she says, handing me what looks like a bracelet box.

  “Really?” I question, taking the box from her and opening it.

  I stare at the contents for a minute before it really registers.

  “Say something,” she says quietly. I try to catch her eye, but she is looking down. There are

  “Is this what I think it is?” Thank fuck. She is going to look amazing carrying my baby.

  “Yes. We’re pregnant. I’ve been thinking I was for a while, but I wanted to be sure before I said anything.” She bites her lower lip.

  “Fuck, baby. This is awesome. I should have known when you didn’t drink at dinner.” I stand and lift her in my arms, spinning her.

  “Are you really happy?” she asks me.

  “Yes. I have literally been trying to knock you up every single day for a couple of months now,” I say, laughing. Kids were never on my radar before I met Mallory, but fuck if she doesn’t make me want everything under the sun with her.

  “I know, I just wanted to be sure,” she says. I pull her into my arms.

  I pull back for a second to cup her face. I truly look at her and somehow, she looks different now. She’s going to be the mother of my child—our child. I have to know more, I need to know everything. “How are you feeling? Any morning sickness?”

  A tear falls from her face. “Not yet. I am so friggin’ excited to be a mom, Malachi. I didn’t even know that was something I wanted before I met you.”

  “I understand that, baby. We should call our moms. Margo too.”

  “If you think so,” she says quietly. I’ve never wanted to strangle my sister more than I want to right now. Hurting me is okay but you hurt the one I’m sworn to protect and I’ll gut you, even if that person is my little sister.

  “I know so. She’ll love our baby. She might be bitchy about this right now, but I know she’ll get the fuck over it.” I try to reassure her because hell, she’s going to be a little more emotional than normal. God help my sister if she makes her cry, again.

  “You don't know that, Malachi. I can't have our baby without my best friend. I can't.” She starts crying. Well, shit, we haven’t even called Margo and my sister has made my wife cry.

  “It’s going to be okay baby, I promise.” I rub circles on her back, hoping to soothe her.

  I can't stand it when she cries and I'm powerless to stop it. I know in this moment, I am going to have to talk to Margo, sooner rather than later.

  Even if I have to go to France and tell my sister to get the fuck over herself.

  Chapter 11

  Mallory

  Seattle was a frigging blast. It’s always amazing to connect with fans, but the weekend was long and exhausting. Before we leave, we head to the Space Needle. I have been to Seattle several times in my career, but I have never had a chance to sight see and seeing all this with my husband is amazing. Holding his hand, we take the elevator to the observation deck. The view is breathtaking.

  “This view has nothing on you, Mallory. You are so fucking beautiful,” Malachi whispers in my ear from his position behind me. I smile. His arms are wrapped around my waist. Our fingers are intertwined. I know that I’m blushing hard, but his words warm my heart and I can’t help it.

  “I love you, husband.”

  “I love you too, wife. Our journey is just beginning,” he says, turning me to face him. His lips takes me in a kiss that makes my heart sing.

  * * *

  We are now we are on a flight to Paris. I should be excited to cross something off my bucket list, but fuck, I am dreading this more than a pap smear and that's saying something. Malachi is asleep next to me. I mentally shake my head. How can he sleep when I'm so anxious? Yes, I know how insane that is. I just have an overwhelming sense of dread that Margo is never going to speak to me again. I study his face while he sleeps. I am such a creeper right now.

  Of course, our moms were thrilled when we told them about being pregnant. I know you are supposed to wait until at least twelve weeks, but I got excited. Those two have been talking every day since Christmas. God only knows about what though. I guess it’s a good thing that they have become friends. My parents have had Giggles—who always fits right in with their little Dachshunds, Yeti and Jessie—since we left for Seattle.

  “Settle down, Jez. Everything is going to be fine,” he says startling me. He places the sweetest kiss on the forehead, his way of calming me.

  “Shit, I thought you were asleep,” I say clutching my chest.

  “Just resting my eyes. Has she called you at all?”

  “No. Not one damn time. If I'd been the asshole, I would have called her every five seconds until she answered the damn phone. Maybe she doesn't think she did anything wrong? I don't know what's worse,” I say, burying my head in my hands. If Malachi is the Sun to me—Margo’s the moon. I need them both in my life.

  “Baby, don’t worry about it,” he says putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close to him. “I got you, just close those beautiful e
yes and everything will look better when you wake up.” He kisses my forehead tenderly. I sigh and close my eyes. At least I have close to thirteen hours to get my shit together.

  Once we arrive in Paris, we check into the Hotel Gustave, near the Eiffel Tower. All I want to do is barf then eat all the bread I can get my greedy little pregnant hands on, but Malachi is right. We need to get this over with.

  I have the address Margo gave me when she first got here, 33 Rue Cardin. The taxi pulls up to the adorable cottage-like house that is connected to all the others on the block. Kind of like townhouses, but much shorter and cuter.

  I hold Malachi’s hand while he knocks on the door with the other one. It takes a few minutes, but finally a man answers the door, in just his boxers.

  Go Margo.

  “What do you want? This better be important,” the man says, pretty much growling.

  “I am looking for my sister,” Malachi says.

  “Who is your sister?” This guy needs some etiquette lessons, but hell, I can tell he’s spent a lot of time at the gym. Again, GO MARGO. My inner thoughts are running away from me.

  “Margo Goranson,” Malachi says in a just as rude tone of voice as the mostly naked dude.

  “Yeah for now, but come in. I’ll get her. The living room is on the right,” he says gesturing in that direction.

  “Thanks,” I say. We share a silent look that says, “what the fuck is up with this guy?” I smile while Malachi” looks disgusted. I can’t help laughing at him and then kissing him. “Calm down, baby. Don’t go “big brother” before we talk. Please,” I beg quietly.

  “Alright, baby,” he says nodding.

  We sit on the long gray couch and wait. A few minutes later, Margo rushes into the room wearing a silk robe. A red silk robe. This girl is strictly a “cotton: fabric of our lives” kind of girl. I am impressed. She looks amazing. Did she get a haircut?