The Time in Between

by Kristen Ashley

  “Both of them.”

  “I . . .” he trailed off then noted, “Christ, they can’t have been that old.”

  “Dad suffered a stroke and Mom, well Mom . . .” I swallowed then told him the story of Mom.

  When I was done, his repeat of, “Christ,” was deeper.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “So it’s just Caylen,” he remarked.

  “Thus my attempt to confront him and force a reconciliation, which failed. This part of why I’m out here, why, when he knew he was close to the end, Patrick urged me to come, saying it was no coincidence two important men in my life lived just hours from each other but entire states away from me.”

  “So he brought you back to me,” Coert murmured.

  It was awkward but I had to get past that.

  So I turned in his arms, pressing closer and saying, “He was a good man, Coert.”

  “You have a family who loves you, that Jag, that lighthouse, all the beautiful parts that were always you intact, not bitter, not broken, not sad, I got that a long time ago, honey.”

  It was then I did not want to laugh or shout with glee.

  I just wanted to weep.

  Coert saw it and I knew it when he reached a long arm to his coffee table to put down his beer so he could put both hands to my face, thumbs to the apples of my cheeks like he was preparing in case he had to sweep away tears.

  It was shaky when I said, “He’d be happy this was happening.”

  “Yeah,” he said gently.

  “Ecstatic.”

  “Yeah,” Coert repeated.

  “I’m not going to cry,” I lied.

  A small smile and another, “Yeah.”

  A tear fell.

  Looking in my eyes, Coert swept it away.

  Another fell.

  And Coert swept it away.

  Another and a repeat from Coert.

  Then I got myself together.

  Coert saw that too, which was why he told me, “My parents are still alive and I got myself a younger brother who has a wife and four kids. Mom and Dad spent Thanksgiving to after New Year’s last year with Janie and me, so they’re spending the holidays with Braylon and his brood this year. They’re retired and they like spoiling Janie so they come not frequent, but they aren’t strangers. You’ll meet them.”

  I’d never met his parents. For reasons that were obvious after, not during, he didn’t talk about them.

  I never even knew he had a brother.

  And it was learning that and knowing I’d meet his parents that I realized that not only had I got Coert back, in getting him back, I was getting Coert.

  Not just him or him and his daughter.

  All of him in a way I’d never had him.

  Knowing this, another tear fell.

  “Honey,” he murmured, sweeping it away at the same time pulling my face closer.

  He gave me a soft kiss before he pushed me an inch away.

  “They’ll love you,” he whispered.

  God, I hoped so.

  The two syllables were trembling when I replied, “Okay.”

  “You need to feel this. I get that,” he said. “We’ll have tough times navigating our way back to us together. I get that too. They might bite us in the ass down the line just because they were that tough. But once we get through that, we’ll be fighters so we’ll know how to keep fighting to keep it good.”

  With my face still held in his hands, I nodded before I decided a change of subject was in order and forced out, “Braylon?”

  He understood me and I knew it when he answered, “Dad.”

  “Yes?” I prompted.

  “His name is Richard. When he was growing up, people called him Dick. Obviously, time wore on, that wasn’t something he was feelin’ like sticking with and he was determined his boys would not get the shit he got, so John was out. Willy. You get the picture. It goes without saying he went way overboard. But at least none of our teachers growin’ up got us confused with anyone else.”

  “I love the name Coert.”

  His handsome face got soft before he pulled me to him again and gave me another light kiss.

  When it was done, I stared at that handsome face so close, right there, all mine again, made more handsome with the tenderness he was showing, the moment we were sharing, and I decided I had to do it because he had to know it.

  And maybe it was wavering courage or maybe I just felt I needed to be as close to him as I could get when I did it.

  But I pushed through his hold so I could put my lips to his ear when I said, “Obviously I love Coert. But I loved you as Tony too. I love you no matter what because the simple matter of fact is, I just love you.”

  His fingers gripped me around the back of my neck. They pulled me back and I held my breath when I saw his face.

  “You done with your wine?” he asked abruptly and rather harshly.

  I took in the expression on his face and someplace very private quivered.

  “Are you, um . . . going to ravage me again?” I asked.

  “You want me to sit here and try to find words to tell you how much I love you or you want me to show you?”

  Totally show me.

  “Can I take my wine?” I asked, and at our movement, with a surprised woof from Midnight who’d been woken from her nap lying by the fire, we were up.

  Then he had my hand in his and was dragging me to the stairs.

  “I’ll come get it after,” he said.

  I grinned at his back not only because Coert was dragging me to the stairs in order to ravage me again.

  But also because he was holding my hand.

  Terminally in Love

  Cady

  Present day . . .

  I OPENED MY EYES AND saw dark-blue sheets.

  I rolled to my back and looked to the other side of the bed to see it mussed, the pillow depressed, but the space was empty.

  I sat up holding the covers to my chest and looked around, realizing there was sunlight coming around the closed drapes in Coert’s bedroom.

  I’d slept late.

  Not a surprise since I’d had little sleep the night before, and when Coert took me back up to his room to ravage me, he’d finally gotten to a point where he could take his time.

  This he did.

  We did.

  So when I’d conked out naked in his arms after, I’d conked out.

  On that thought, I heard a faraway whistle.

  I threw the covers aside and saw Coert’s sweater on the floor.

  Way back when, I wouldn’t hesitate to pull on one of Coert’s tees or shirts and Coert didn’t hesitate to share he didn’t care. He liked it. To the point sometimes he’d pick up his own shirt and hand it to me when we were done doing the things we’d been doing and I needed something to put on.

  So right then, I grabbed that sweater, tugged it over my head, pushed my hands through the arms and moved to the back of the room.

  I pulled the curtains aside and saw Coert outside with another sweater on, jeans, a scarf wrapped around his throat, snow boots on his feet, throwing a stick to Midnight, who was bounding through the high snow to grab it.

  She got it and brought it back to him.

  I’d never played fetch with her.

  I didn’t even know she knew how to play fetch.

  But I was arrested by the beauty of her jumping through the snow, this enthusiastic and graceful, the thick bed of soft flakes taking away the lasting results of a terrible injury and giving her freedom to move again.

  Not to mention I was arrested by the vision of Coert out in the snow in the morning playing with my dog.

  I made the decision to play fetch with Midnight every morning, hopefully doing this with Coert, before I moved to my bag that Coert had brought up and thrown on his chair. I got out the fresh pair of panties and my bathroom stuff and headed to his bathroom to take care of business.

  When I was done, I went back to the bag, pulled on some socks, and still in his sweat
er, I moved out of his room, through his house, taking it in in the light.

  He’d been there awhile, I saw. He’d taken that time to make every inch of it his, I saw that too. It was all very masculine but it was homey and comfortable.

  I could live there, happily. With her room like it was and the rest with her dad all around, Janie undoubtedly already lived there happily when she was with her father.

  Making my way to the kitchen (and coffee and hopefully Coert since the back door led from the laundry room), it made me feel good he had this. That he’d created this. That he’d lived his life without me but made it a good one in a variety of ways. He had a job of influence and authority. A great house. A beautiful daughter. He said he had friends. He said his men loved his daughter but I suspected they also felt some of that for him, and surely respect.

  With warmth filling the pit of my belly at these thoughts, waking up in Coert’s house, knowing I was moving to the only man I’d ever loved who was in my life again, I made it to the bottom of the stairs and started toward the kitchen to see Coert and Midnight had come back in since she was rushing toward me exuberantly, tail wagging.

  I gave her cold coat a rubdown then straightened, and she fell to my side as I walked into the kitchen.

  Scarf gone, Coert was sitting at the opposite end of the island, and the minute I hit the door, his eyes went from the newspaper spread out in front of him to me.

  They then instantly dropped down to his sweater on my body.

  I was not surprised at that.

  But I was still surprised.

  “You read the newspaper?”

  His eyes came back to my face. “You don’t?”

  Absolutely not.

  I had enough bad news in my life. I didn’t need to seek it out daily.

  “No. But what I mean is, you read an actual newspaper? You don’t just go online?”

  “Got my face in technology a lot of the day every day. On my phone. On my computer. On my tablet.” He put fingers to the edge of the paper spread out across the island and gave it a shake. “Gotta give myself a dose of old school or I’ll turn into a microchip or something.”

  I smiled at his quip and walked to the other side of the island, spying the trifle bowl of oranges when I did.

  “The trifle bowl is a nice touch, Coert,” I told him.

  He was studying me in a strange way and I didn’t think that strange came from his confused, “Pardon?”

  “The trifle bowl with the oranges.”

  He glanced to it and then back to me. “That’s called a trifle bowl?”

  I grinned at him. “Yes.”

  He did not grin back when he explained, “Mom. She says my place looks like a man puked all over it. That’s why I got that bowl. Rocking chairs out front.” He lifted a hand and flicked it to the sink where my wineglass from last night was sitting on the edge. “And really cool wineglasses.”

  I kept grinning at him.

  He still did not grin at me.

  He raised his brows. “You gonna come here?”

  I definitely was.

  After I got coffee.

  I looked to his mug and was about to scan for the coffeemaker when he said, “C’m ’ere, Cady.”

  His voice was deeper, richer, and I forgot all about coffee.

  I went there.

  Coert swiveled to the side on his stool when I did. His heels were up on a rung with his legs splayed wide.

  When I got close, he curled an arm around me and pulled me between those legs so I was a whole lot closer.

  “You sleep good?” he murmured, looking at my mouth.

  “Yes,” I whispered, seeing him looking at my mouth so I looked at his.

  Another part of him I loved. He had beautiful lips.

  Those lips moved.

  “Midnight’s been out,” he told me.

  “’Kay,” I breathed, my gaze dreamily rising to his.

  His eyes lifted to mine just as his hand dipped, then went up and under his sweater.

  My breath hitched.

  “Like you showin’ in my kitchen wearing my sweater,” he shared.

  I hadn’t been cold and I still wasn’t.

  But my legs were trembling.

  “I . . . good,” I pushed out.

  His hand went from the skin of my hip to the small of my back and he pushed me so I was pressed against him from crotch to chest.

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  I might have felt morning peckish on my way down the stairs.

  I felt something else entirely in that moment.

  I still forced out a wispy, “Yes.”

  His mouth moved forward and touched mine, his eyes so close we almost gave each other butterfly kisses with our lashes, and with his lips moving against mine, he muttered, “Me too.”

  He brushed my lips with his before I let out an involuntary squeal because I was suddenly going up.

  And then I was behind to his newspaper, Coert bending over me, successfully pressing my back to the island.

  He didn’t kiss me. His breaths skimming across my lips, his eyes staring into mine, both his hands went up the sweater, the skin of my sides, his thumbs splayed to skate over my ribs to come to rest right under my breasts.

  My breath hitched again then came uneasy as I stared up at him, lost in the sight of him, his cold-of-outdoors-still-clinging, warmth-of-Coert smell, the feel of his hands, this together moment of morning decadence.

  His fingers moved back down, caught at the sides of my panties, and I skimmed my teeth over my bottom lip, watched his eyes darken as he took that in, and whispered, “Coert.”

  “Yeah,” he growled, the dark in his eyes deepening, his fingers curling into the material of my panties, stretching them against me, causing a shiver to slither between my legs. “Coert. Say it again, Cady.”

  Feeling my panties bite in, looking into his eyes, it came almost as a whimper. “Coert.”

  He started to tug my panties down.

  “Again,” he ordered.

  “Coert,” I panted.

  He touched his lips to mine, a dark fire burning in his eyes.

  Then he disappeared and my panties were pulled down my legs, my calves. I felt them catch at one shin before they fell to the floor and I lifted my head to follow Coert and saw him toss one of my thighs over a shoulder, press the other one gently aside . . .

  And his mouth was on me.

  My head hit the island with a thunk but I didn’t feel it.

  I felt other, vastly better things.

  I slid a hand into his thick hair and moaned, “Coert.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted his approval into my sex and then kept at me.

  I dug a heel into his back, pressed myself into his face and felt it.

  God.

  I felt it.

  He’d been good at this before.

  But now . . .

  Amazing.

  As he built it in me, my noises filled his kitchen, my heel plowed into his back, my fingers clenched and unclenched in his hair and he wrapped his arms around the backs of my thighs.

  Running his hands over my belly, up under his sweater, his mouth working beauty between my legs, his hands found my breasts, curled around. Thumbs moving hard over my stiffened nipples, electricity shot between my legs to add to the sparks he was making and I cried out.

  “Say it,” he growled between my legs, putting fingers to thumbs and pinching my nipples.

  God, that felt good.

  I squirmed under him and gave him what he wanted immediately.

  “Coert.”

  He went at me with his mouth, sucking, licking, darting his tongue inside and then again, against my clit, he demanded roughly, “Say it.”

  My hand pressing his head to me, I gasped, “Coert.”

  He gave me back his mouth, his fingers squeezing and lightly twisting. I ground into his face and wrapped my other leg around his shoulder.

  “Coert,” I breathed, putting my other hand to his hea
d.

  He ate.

  He squeezed.

  “Coert,” I panted.

  His hands left my breasts to go to my ribs and pulse me down into his mouth.

  Yes.

  My back arched, the top of my head dug into the island, my hips bore down on him and I cried, “Coert!” as it rolled over me, through me, sweeping me away in wave after wave of ecstasy.

  When it started to leave me, my back relaxed, my eyes opened, but they’d only go hooded. I felt Coert trailing his lips along my inner thigh, his hand across the top of the other one, his other arm coming from around me.

  I then felt his finger between my legs, running from clit down through the wet folds, dipping slightly in when he found me. My hips jerked then sought his light touch as the finger traced back up and became a warm hand cupping me intimately.

  Coert removed my leg from his shoulder, slid out from under the other one and came up, kissing me on the skin over the curls between my legs.

  And then he had hands to my waist and he was lifting me, turning me. Gravity pulled at the sweater and Coert adjusted his hands to let it, allowing it to cover me again. I ended up seated on his thigh as he resumed his position on his stool, my legs dangling between his spread ones, my head tucked under his chin, his arm wrapped around me holding me close.

  I worked at steadying my breathing, which had gone slightly erratic again at being held so casually yet so tenderly, and I watched with dazed eyes as he reached to his coffee mug.

  It disappeared as he put it to his lips.

  It reappeared as he set it back on the island.

  And after a bit, he turned the page on his newspaper.

  I cuddled closer, and the instant I started to do that, his arm around me got tighter, he adjusted his jaw to fit my head closer to his neck, and I was breathing deeply for a different reason, fighting back emotion at all he was giving me.

  I honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or sob that Coert would make me come with his mouth while I was on top of his newspaper, then set me in his lap and resumed drinking coffee and catching up on the news.

  We’d had an active and highly enjoyable sex life when we’d been together before.

  But we had not had the kind of life where you could eat out your woman and then read your newspaper while you carried on caffeinating yourself in the morning.

  “You good?” His voice still mildly rough from what he’d done to me cut through my thoughts.