Catching Preeya (Paradise South Book 3)

by Rissa Brahm

  She shifted her body so they were face-to-face. “How do you know that?” she asked with a skeptic’s eye.

  He grinned at her. “The core of a mother, the true selfless core of a nurturer, babe…I’ve already seen it in you. Not just with my sister’s kids and kids on your flights, but I got to see you with Prana—on a video chat, no less. Preeya, you’ve already been a mother, in a sense. A wonderful, loving mother. And it wasn’t even your job to be, but you took the role and you became that child’s angel. Yes, you were Prana’s living angel, Pree. And you’re our baby’s angel, too.”

  She didn’t hide her tears or her face. She didn’t tuck her head in his shoulder or cover her eyes with her hands. She just kept his gaze and wept. No shame, no sorrow, even. She almost held a glint of pride in her glistening eyes.

  He kissed her forehead. “I can’t wait to see you with our baby, Pree. I just cannot wait.”

  *

  She had to be connected with him. Now.

  Her lips found his mouth within a heartbeat.

  Fueled by the freedom flooding her, she kissed him hard, with force. By his words, his voice, his deep insight into her, she’d been energized and liberated. His clarity, his love, had turned a key inside her. And the key rotated faster and faster in her chest, in her core as their mouths spoke to each other without words. Only passion. An impassioned tango she didn’t know they knew.

  Their tongues tangled as she climbed onto his lap. He was hard, so perfectly hard for her. She hummed as his hands slid down her back to her bottom, supporting her weight and offering balance. Through their kiss, she laughed, then with spliced and mangled words she asked, “Am I killing you with my extra…bulk?”

  He lifted his hips into her, grinding, groaning. Then he took a handful of her ass and pulled his mouth away. “You’re perfect, babe. You can’t know how fucking”—he took her by the nape of the neck and pressed his mouth to hers again, then pulled back, panting—“perfect your body is to me—you are to me.”

  They read each other that instant. She worked the buttons of her top while he worked the zipper of his pants. God, she was so hot and wet for him. A few shared giggles, breaths, then grunts of laborious body-shifting later, Ben filled her with his endlessness. He rocked her gently into swirls of sweet ecstasy. As he did, he slid one hand over her belly, circling, caressing, then down to her mound, then her delicate clit, his thumb twirling her senseless. Bliss leading to bliss.

  And when his eyes rolled back behind fluttering lids, she cried out, screamed out, her own release rolling up her body in burning tides of joy. Once the heat reached her chest then her face, tears—new tears—filled her eyes. Through her blurred vision she watched his eyelids lift; gorgeous golden warmth captured her in his gaze. She’d caught her dream. Her wildest dream. The one she’d never been able to picture. She couldn’t have. Such pure bliss proved impossible to construct by her mind’s eye. Her heart had to wait, search and wait and cling to faith that it would eventually find her, catch her. And it had. Ben had caught her, and she prayed that he’d never, ever let her go.

  CHAPTER 51

  Almost a week had passed in a blink.

  The ease and flow between them, in their ever-expanding conversations and in every touch, look, kiss—he’d never known such floating freedom. And Preeya was his cloud—light and soft and laughing and giggling all the time. Manic, angelic, his.

  She even slept better since the other day’s breakthrough—well, relatively speaking, anyway. She still tossed and turned and shifted, seeking the perfect yet unattainable position, but she hadn’t spoken, shrieked, shouted in her sleep since the Gigi outpouring, and their day on the couch.

  And, oh God, their hunger for each other…as intense as it had been, now it skyrocketed to a new stratosphere of intimate. A new level of indescribable.

  But he found as much pure joy tending to her while foregoing his own release. He’d just build up to the next time she’d attack him, which seemed to be no less than a day’s wait. Anyway, a ritual, so to speak, had been formed. Before bed each night he’d set up a slew of body pillows at certain angles and levels and he’d massage her from head to toe. She’d reach a state that could only be described as tranquil elation.

  And, God, it drove him wild. To give her such pleasure. All day every day he’d crave the sensation of her silken mocha skin at the mercy of his fingertips. He rushed them to bed every night just to work out her tensions and infuse her with pleasure.

  “Is this good, the long one here?”

  She gave him the sexiest coy smile he’d ever seen and nodded.

  “Okay.” Starting at her long middle toe, he pulled and cracked each one, then pressed and rubbed the balls and arches of each foot simultaneously. Up next to her heels, he rolled and rotated her feet to loosen her ankles. He worked his way up her calves, running his thumbs deep into her muscle fibers. Then to her knees. God, her skin was so soft. Next her quads; he rubbed and kneaded her muscles, pinching and knuckling to unlock the trapped energy.

  She moaned her satisfaction. It made him raging hard, that moan of hers.

  Continuing up her body, he arrived at her core—his glorious, all-loving slice of heaven. Admittedly his favorite part. That and her earlobes—well, and her round breasts and round belly. Oh, and her voluptuous ass, now more fully fucking fantastic at six months pregnant. So, he guessed he couldn’t settle on a favorite part of her. She blew his mind, all parts combined.

  Anyway, he set the fingers of both his surgically precise hands to work. And as usual, she was ready for him—wet and hot and so goddamn needy. She clenched her core, lifted her hips, and her bud was engorged and pulsating for him. He kept all his targeted focus on her sex, his fingers twirling and sliding and dipping her into peak pleasure. He sensed her watching him. And as she got close to her edge, she demanded his eyes. With a little whimper and the whisper of his name, she met his gaze. Gladly. He glanced up at her, watched her reach her release, swim in that heaven. He’d watch her there forever.

  “Ben,” she breathed.

  “I’m here, babe. I see you, I have you.” As she arched into her climax, he slid one hand under her to support her lower back and lay back with her while pulling her writhing body gently toward him. While her body wrung itself out, he felt surges of joy bolt up his spine. As if he was coming, too. A virtual, essential release by proxy. Just watching her come, supporting and holding her thrashing body. Pure empathetic bliss.

  She collapsed back into his arms and dozed off immediately. He listened to her breath deepen and slow, lulling him off to sleep as well. Another night of perfect with his Preeya.

  *

  Sleep had come quickly to him, but it didn’t stay for long. He was afraid to move or he’d wake her. After weeks of endless shifting and twisting, it seemed she’d finally found her position. Her spot. And though his knees and shoulders ached, his neck pinched, his bottom arm lay numb, he refused to move an inch with her body sleeping so fully against his.

  So at dawn when his phone buzzed him out of his half-slumber paralysis, he swung then slammed his arm down on his nightstand and grabbed the device like it meant to kill him—or he meant to kill it—all without moving the rest of his body somehow. He hit Accept with his thumb just to end the buzzing—he’d worked too hard to have Preeya wake up before the sun. And in answering the call, he wouldn’t mind giving the idiot a raking for knowing how to tell the goddamn time.

  Before he could even utter his harsh-whispered hello, a too-awake and cheerful voice met his ears. “Ben? Ben, hey, it’s me.”

  Jesus. “Gigi? It’s, like”—he squinted at his nightstand clock—“six in the morning.” Breathe, Ben. He had to remind himself that she, too, was pregnant, and now Gigi was on her own. Preeya, and so Ben, were Gigi’s only support. “Gigi, what is it…are you okay?”

  “Sorry, sorry, I just had to call. I have this idea and it’s been nagging at me all night long. Got no sleep.” You and me both. “I couldn’t wait another�
�”

  “I get it, I get it. It’s fine, Gigi. Let me get to a place I can talk.” He slid out of bed like a ninja.

  He adjusted his eyes to the kitchen light so he could make an early pot of coffee for himself while Gigi began her explanation.

  “There’s been this idea just clawing at the back of my mind…”

  “Go ahead,” Ben urged as he added the extra-bold dark roast grounds to the brew bin.

  “It’s something I stopped myself from bringing up to Preeya a thousand times now because I didn’t want to hear her say no. It’s just too important—vital, really. And then you told me about her nightmares. That was the final confirmation. I think this idea is the answer, the key.”

  “The key?”

  “Yes, to closing her circle of pain and giving her the ability to open her rightful circle of happiness.”

  “Gigi—there’s not enough coffee in Seattle to keep me awake through your stalling.” Ranting. “Tell me, what’s your idea?”

  “Okay, well, I strongly believe that if we help her find—and face—the missing piece to her ‘puzzle of pain,’ I call it, Preeya would be able to finally and officially move on. No more doubts, no more anger poisoning her baby, poisoning her confidence….”

  “Gigi!” he yelled, then checked himself the next instant. He whispered, “Gigi, please…get to your point…in human terms.”

  “Her mom, Ben.”

  All of that garbled gibberish reduced to those few words? Her mom, Ben.

  Okay, Ben, digest. Sans coffee? Yes, Ben, sans coffee.

  Gigi’s fast-and-furious, floral crap means…? “Wait…are you suggesting we find her deadbeat mom?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Behind her back?”

  “How cathartic would it be for Preeya to face the woman who left her and Prana? To confront her not just in her nightmares, but in real life.”

  Ben leaned against the kitchen island, stunned speechless.

  “Listen, I’ve gone online to start a search a few times now, but had to quit. Just kept hitting dead ends. I don’t have enough information on the woman. And again, if I ask Preeya directly, she’ll say no, you know she will—”

  “Possibly, probably! Because, Gigi, it’s her prerogative. Something this…this…huge has got to be her choice. And don’t you think she’d take up the search on her own if she wanted to meet the woman?”

  “That’s the point, Ben. She doesn’t want to. But she needs to. To heal.”

  “Your third eye sees this, huh?”

  Silence buzzed in his ear.

  He didn’t mean to be smug or mean, but Jesus. She was talking about his pregnant wife. Going behind Preeya’s back to find, and then, what…reunite her and her mother? Where would that lead to but more stress, more pain? “Sorry for that snide remark, Gigi.”

  “No, it’s cool. I’m very used to it by now. But, Ben, I do sense and intuit things. With Preeya, the vibe is so intense…because we’re so close.” Gigi paused then sighed. “She’s in pain, she’s scared, and it kills me.”

  It occurred to him that beyond Gigi’s true love for Preeya—again, he was so thankful for the role she’d played in Preeya’s life up to that point—it was clear to him that Gigi was scared shitless. Projecting her own anxieties, rightful worries about having and raising a kid on her own. It was natural, expected, inevitable. He had to tread lightly, knowing Gigi as little as he did, but knowing how much Gigi meant to Preeya.

  He cleared his throat. “Gigi, listen. The other night after she came home from her time with you, she seemed different. Open, and light. A drastic change. More relaxed than I’ve seen her since…since our time in Vallarta. And we even talked, for the first time I might add, about our fears, our goddamn trepidations, about being parents. Thanks to her outpouring to you, her comfort and confidence in you, I’ve already seen a shift in her. You helped open her heart, Gigi.” He paused, almost unsure if Gigi was still on the call—all he could hear was his percolating and much-needed coffee.

  “Gigi? Are you—”

  “She buries things, Ben. Always has.”

  “Maybe, but things are coming to the surface now, and they’re coming up…naturally, Gigi. Organically. In their own time. I really don’t think we need to do anything but be here for her.”

  “Look, I just called to ask if you had or could get a little more information for me on her mom. I don’t need anything else but—”

  “Gigi. You aren’t hearing me. We do not need to force things. In fact, I’m telling you not to.”

  “You’re telling me….”

  “Yes. You can’t do this. Not without Preeya’s knowledge or permission, and to tell you the truth, I don’t even want you to bring it up right now.” His throat got thick and dry. “Not after the baby arrives, either. Not until Preeya’s at least done nursing, if at all.”

  This time there was no buzzing silence. Gigi’s huffing fury filled his ear. Then she sniffled, like she’d begun to cry. “I wasn’t asking permission, Ben.” Voice quick and quivering. “I need to do this for her. To find her mom, give Preeya the chance to—”

  “To what? To scream and yell at the woman who abandoned her so Pree could spike up her and the baby’s blood pressure? All to look into the woman’s eyes, the eyes, by the way, that mirror her own? Will that help bolster Preeya’s confidence, clear her doubts, heal her broken heart? For an intuitive person, Gigi, you’re pretty damn clueless.”

  “Forget it. Sorry I called.”

  He heaved a sigh, trying to temper his frustration. Remember, this woman’s as pregnant as Preeya is—and seemingly way more emotional. Irrational, really. “Gigi, please. Just tell me you’ll drop this. For the health of Preeya and the baby, our baby—mine and Preeya’s—you will drop this.”

  “You know what? Screw you, Ben. Get my best friend knocked up and now you know her better than I do? I’ve been her family for nearly twenty years.”

  “Are we really going there? Jesus.” He counted to ten in his head—in three seconds’ time. “You’re tired, hormonal, and you’re not thinking straight, Gigi.”

  “No, you’re not thinking straight, and you’re not really thinking about Preeya’s well-being, either. You’re too scared to think or see clearly about anything, asshole! Just because you lost one kid, doesn’t mean—”

  “Whoa, wait.” He shook his head and inhaled a roomful of coffee-scented air. “What the fuck did you say?”

  “Pregnancies and deaths, Ben. That’s what I see clearly, clear as crystal. Past and present. And as for future, I sense, I intuit. If Preeya doesn’t face her mother before the baby comes, she’ll be miserable. Energetically and physically miserable…and so will my godbaby.”

  Her slew of nonsense mangled his brain. Where to even start? “Energetically, physically? What in the hell are you talking about, Gigi?”

  “Ben, I know you’re nursing your own wounds, but what I’m saying is that I won’t let your past hurt Preeya’s future—her chances for true, essential happiness.”

  Old wounds. Scared. Life and death. Godbaby? Past, present…future?

  This stunning and impossible hoax Gigi had played, it needed to end—now.

  Because…but…wait…what the fuck? No one but his sister knew about Jamie’s miscarriage.

  No one.

  Chills sprinted up his spine and his hands shook. He felt so out of control, out of the realm of reality, he thought he’d vomit and suffocate at the same time.

  Get it together. Preeya needed him.

  And today and always, he’d be there for her. Fuck yes he would.

  And fuck Gigi. Her concern for Preeya’s future? No goddamn need. Preeya’s future is with me. With him and their baby. He made her happy, would always make her happy.

  Who the hell was Gigi, anyway? She was the danger, the one he needed to protect Preeya from. Because what horse shit! Not meeting her mother will lead Preeya to misery? Again, what? Energy and vibes and clairvoyance and the rest of Gigi’s psychodrama
had no place in his world, or Preeya’s.

  “You are nuts, Gigi Donlow. And by the way, Miss All-Knowing-Psychic who so declares to have my wife’s—”

  “Soon-to-be wife.”

  “Preeya’s best interest at heart—you just said you intuit the future?”

  “Preeya’s future. Yes, Ben, I do. Always have. Always will.”

  Right. “Well, perfect. That leaves me in a better position than you to judge what’s best for her future. Basing my argument not on goddamn intuition but on medical fact, none of what you’re proposing is good for her blood pressure, her nerves, her or the baby’s well-being—my old wounds aside. If you care about your best friend—for the record, my fiancée, my love and life—and, again, our child’s safety, his or her future will not be threatened because of some ‘strong gut inkling’ of yours.”

  Then nothing. Just more angry breathing on the other end of the connection.

  Which gave him time to catch his breath. A few beats passed. His chest heaved as he poured his coffee with trembling hands. He took a sip, burned his tongue. Shit. “Gigi, you there?”

  “Check your texts, Ben.”

  His phone chimed. He pulled the phone from his ear and saw one word.

  “That’s the sex of your baby, Ben. Have a great fucking day.”

  *

  Bitch.

  Go easy.

  Fuck, though. Emotional roller coaster or not, where the hell did she get off?

  He put his mug of coffee down so hard, much of the hot dark roast leaped out over the sides, burning his knuckles. Déjà vu. He yanked his hand back and brought it to his chest. Just, fuck. Then after running it under tap water for five, six, seven seconds, he dried it while ignoring the remnant burning sensation, then grabbed his phone with both hands.

  Gigi, he texted. Do not broach this reunion idea again. Not with me, not with Preeya. I mean it.

  He hit Send.

  He stared at the ceiling. Then back down at his screen.

  And don’t you dare tell Pree the sex.

  Fuck her for telling him. Not that she’s necessarily right.