“Will you marry me?” I ask.
She takes the box and sits back, an open-mouth grin on her face. It’s a mixture of awe and happiness. “I used to look at this when I was little. My dad said my rich husband would get me a big, fat rock and we’d live happily ever after. But all I ever wanted was this ring and a husband who loved me.”
I tip her face up to mine with a crooked finger under her chin. “I love you.” I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Did you forget to say yes?”
“I didn’t forget,” she tosses back at me. She sets the box on the table and gets up. “I just haven’t said yes, yet.” She points toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? I’m thirsty.” She gets up like she’s going to walk away, but I grab her shirt in my fist and pull her back down. I pick up the box, take the ring out of it, and hold it up.
“Marry me, Em,” I plead. “If you say yes, we can have lots of crazy sex and live happily ever after.” I want to laugh, but I can’t. It’s not really funny. “Marry me, Em,” I repeat. “Please.”
She smacks me on the forehead with palm of her hand, and I’m momentarily stunned. “Of course I’ll marry you,” she says. She lets me slide the ring onto her finger. “I couldn’t make it easy for you, dummy,” she says. She settles into my side and nuzzles into that spot that’s all hers. There are no secrets between us. Not anymore. And it feels so fucking good.
I kiss her. “Can we go to bed now?” I ask. It’s been weeks since I’ve been inside her, and granted, I was unconscious for part of it, but I’m not now. And I need her more than I need air.
She knocks on the hard cast that goes all the way up to my thigh. “I have a feeling this is going to be a little unwieldy.”
I shake my head. “You’ll just have to get on top.” I draw her across my lap and lift her shirt, caressing the smooth skin of her belly with my fingertips. She reaches to pull her shirt over her head and looks toward the door. “What?” I ask, my breath ragged.
“Someone is at the door,” she says. She slumps against me and breathes hard for a moment. I pick up a pillow and jam it into my lap, cursing to myself.
When she opens the door, her parents fall into the room, followed by all my brothers.
“Welcome home!” my brothers shout.
Emily’s mother picks up Emily’s ringer finger and holds it up. “Did you say yes?” she asks.
“Of course I did,” Emily says. My brothers come over to congratulate me, and her dad is even glowing. What’s up with that?
Matt comes in with pizzas, and he sweeps Emily into a hug. He dips his face into her hair, and I imagine he’s sniffing her. “You smell good,” he says. She smacks him, and he laughs.
“She said yes, huh?” Paul asks as he sits down beside me. He eyes the pillow in my lap and chuckles.
You guys have terrible timing, I sign.
He tries to look innocent. It’s never a terrible time for a you-just-got-engaged party. He points to the pillow and raises an eyebrow. You got the rest of your life to get laid, he signs. He heaves a sigh. I can see his chest fill with air. I’ll run them all out in a little while.
Promise?
He laughs. I promise. He smiles at me though. You got the rest of your life to make love to that woman.
I look at her, and she smiles at me as she pushes her hair behind her ear. I know. And I plan to.
Sam made cupcakes, Paul signs. You want one? He pushes to his feet.
I’ll eat just about anything Sam makes. Bring me two.
You going to get fat and lazy now that you’re getting married?
What’s your excuse? I ask. He punches my shoulder. I wince because I’m still sore. Paul looks into my eyes. You did good picking that one, he signs, nodding toward Emily.
Well, if you ever meet a girl who punches you in the fucking nose when you meet her, marry her, I tell him. He laughs and goes to get a cupcake. I rub the bridge of my nose and think back. I reach for the napkin on the table and start to doodle the tattoo I’ll put on her dad.
I’m thinking he needs a street sign where Madison Avenue and Family converge. Family will be at the top and much more prominent. Madison Avenue will be all glitzed up with lights and baubles while Family will look comfortable and pleasant. Maybe with some filigree and antique markings. Madison Avenue, despite all its wealth, will look poor in comparison. I don’t know how I’ll do it yet, but I’ll figure it out. At the bottom, I’ll write the words he said to me when he asked for the tattoo: My family means the world to me. Without them, I am nothing.
I might have those words put across my ribs because they fit me, too.
Emily
I close the door behind the family. Logan looks tired. It hasn’t been long since his accident, and he’s still recovering. I actually let them stay way too long.
“You need some pain meds?” I ask.
He shakes his head and motions me forward. “Not yet,” he says as he pulls me down to sit on his good knee. He has the other propped on the coffee table. He winces as he moves, though. He’s hurting. I can tell. He lifts the edge of my shirt so he can slip his hand beneath it to lie against my skin. His head falls back on the edge of the couch, and he looks at me through half-closed blue eyes that simmer.
Goodness, he’s handsome. And he’s all mine.
His hand tracks up under my shirt until he hefts the weight of my breast in his hand. His thumb swipes across my nipple, and it shoots straight to the center of me.
“Logan,” I protest mildly. “You’re not well enough for fooling around.” I cover his hand with mine and press down. But the heat of his hand seeps through my shirt. I arch my back pressing closer to him. I can’t help it. He’s Logan.
He leans me back so that I’m snuggled in the crook of his arm, lying across his lap. He tugs my shirt up above my breasts and looks down at me, licking his lips. He flicks the front opening of my bra and bends his head to take my nipple into his mouth.
I am swaddled in him as his tongue has its wicked way with me. My breath catches, and I can’t keep from squirming in his lap. He chuckles, and it’s a breathy sound. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you,” he says.
With a flip of his wrist, he unbuttons my jeans and lowers the zipper. He looks into my eyes as he slides his hand in the front of my panties. He glides across my heat and goes straight for my clit. His hand is hampered by the tightness of my jeans, and he moves in small, tight circles. I need more than that. “Let’s go to bed,” I say.
“Thought you’d never ask,” he says with a laugh. I help him to his feet and put his crutches under him, and he hobbles slowly toward the bedroom.
“Are you sure you don’t need pain medication?” I ask. He looks tired around his eyes.
He shakes his head, leans his crutches against the bed, and shoves his gym shorts and his boxers down to his knees. I walk over and pull off his shoe, then roll his sock down. It takes a minute to get his shorts over his cast, but I do it. He’s rock hard, and his manhood bobs in my face.
“You know, when you woke up, you were pretty drugged up, and you mentioned to Sam that I don’t spend enough time down here.” I take him in my hand and look up at him.
“I did?” he chokes out. He pushes into my grip. “I didn’t mean to. I never talk about stuff that personal with them.” He tips my chin up. “You believe me, don’t you?”
I nod. My body is ready for him. It has been too long since he’s been inside me, and I need him. This time is not like the other times we’ve been together. It’s soft and slow and oh-so-sweet. But we find completion in one another, and we do it quickly.
He pulls out of me slowly, shivering as he does so. “I’m afraid you’re a mess,” he tells me. He reaches for his crutches to pull himself up. “Let me get you a towel.”
I jump up and scramble across the bed, snatching his crutches from his hand. He growls and reaches for them. I put them across the room so he can’t get up. “Stay right there,” I say, pointing my finger at him.
&nb
sp; He laughs and pulls his shirt over his head. He never got fully undressed. “Can we take a nap?” he asks.
I go to the bathroom and clean myself up and then pad back into the room with a cloth wet with warm water. I pass it to him, and he cleans himself off and lies back on the bed, one arm behind his head so he can look at me. I’m bare-ass naked, and I don’t care.
“I was going crazy waiting for them to leave,” he admits. He scrubs his hands into his eyes. He looks like he’s ready to drop.
“I was, too.” I go get him a pain pill and some water, and I watch while he takes it. “Do you want something to eat?” I ask.
He shakes his head, yawning. “Want to take a nap with me?” He looks at me, and his love for me shines back in my face. I never thought I would ever feel this happy.
I climb into the bed and roll into his chest, into that space that’s made just for me. We both have a ton of schoolwork to catch up on, but our instructors were accommodating when I told them what happened, particularly in Logan’s situation. I’ve been taping my lectures, which I would do anyway, and I have been listening to them as I have time. He’s much further behind than I am. “You have homework to do when you wake up,” I warn. I snuggle into him.
“I plan to do a lot of things when I wake up,” he says, yawning again. He chuckles.
“Such as?” I ask.
“You.” He laughs and squeezes me tightly.
He lifts my arm and kisses the tattoo on my inner wrist. I look down at the tat that started it all. He set me free when he unlocked my world. He’s the peace in my soul. He’s the one who opened my shackles, and I’ll love him forever.
“Promises, promises,” I mutter. I close my eyes and fall asleep to the beat of his heart.
Smart, Sexy and Secretive
By Tammy Falkner
Sexy version
Emily
My dad doesn’t want me to go back to New York. He’s wholeheartedly opposed to it. But New York is where my heart is. It’s where Logan is. And we’re in a plane on our way there right now.
I met Logan in the fall. He took care of me when I needed a place to stay, and I took care of him when his brother got sick with cancer. Matt needed an expensive medical treatment, and the only way to get the money was for me to suck it up and take one for the team. So, I did. I went back to California, leaving the only man I’ve ever loved in New York, and returned to my estranged family—the one I’d run away from. Matt went into treatment, paid for by my father, and Logan went on with his life.
I have wanted to contact him so many times. But talking is difficult between us. Logan is deaf, and he communicates by writing. I have dyslexia, and reading is hard for me. So letters and phone calls are not possible for us. The Reed family is poor, and they don’t even have a computer. I considered buying them one and shipping it to them, so Logan and I could talk using sign language on Skype, but they are both poor and proud, which is a killer combination.
It’s been almost three months since I last saw Logan. It has been just as long since I’ve talked to him. I want to look into his eyes. I need to see him. Soon.
The pilot announces that we’ll be arriving in New York in twenty minutes over the intercom. Mom and Dad look over at me. Mom is smiling; Dad is not. Dad’s bodyguard sets his newspaper to the side and buckles his seat belt. My dad has money. Lots and lots of money. My mom spends money. Lots and lots of money. I am so glad my mom married my dad because no other man on the face of the earth could ever afford her.
Dad owns Madison Avenue. Not the street—the upscale clothing and accessory line. It’s a popular line of really expensive items that started in California and has now spread nationwide. My parents have more money than God.
“Are you excited, Emily?” my mother asks as the wheels touch down. I take a deep breath. I can already breathe easier just knowing I’m in the same city as him.
I look directly into her eyes since she knows how much I love Logan, and she’s actually in favor of us being together. “More than you know.”
“I don’t know why you feel the need to go to college, Emily,” my father barks. “You could have just gotten married and lived a life of ease and privilege.”
Last year, my dad tried to marry me off to the son of one of his business partners. That’s why I left California with nothing and took a bus all the way to New York. I didn’t take a dime of my father’s money, and I supported myself by busking in the subways with my guitar for change. My dad doesn’t know everything about my life away from him. Like how I lived in shelters when money was tight. And how I went for days without food sometimes. He chooses to think I lived an upscale life while I was away. But I didn’t. It was hard. I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything, though. Because it’s what brought me to Logan.
God, I want to see him so badly. I want my parents to go away, too, but they want to see me settled into my new apartment. It’s around the corner from the college I’ll be attending, Julliard. I’ve always wanted to study music, and now I can. That was my mother’s doing.
My mother smacks my father on the arm. It’s a breezy wave, but it gets his attention. “We’ve already discussed this, darling. She doesn’t want to get married. Least of all to the young Mr. Fields.”
I snort. I wouldn’t marry that ass if he were the last man on earth.
“Fields is a fine young man,” my father says. What’s really bad is that he believes it, even though Trip is really just an opportunistic asshole who wants to climb the financial ladder, and he wants to use me as the top rung. He’ll never get over this rung, I can say that much.
“Mmm hmm,” I hum noncommittally.
“Fields is an ass, darling,” my mother says. She gets her purse, and we disembark the plane. The limo is waiting for us outside, and we all slide in while someone I will never see unloads the luggage.
“He blows his nose constantly, Dad,” I say. “And he doesn’t shower after he plays basketball.” And he called me stupid in front of all his friends. But we don’t talk about that part.
My dad’s lips twitch. “That boy has a lot of potential. Great vision. He would make a fine husband.”
What he means is that we could combine the two families like a business deal, increasing the net worth of both. I have no interest in being richer. In fact, the happiest time in my life was when I lived with Logan and his brothers. He has four of them—two older and two younger. They live alone since their mom died and their dad left. They don’t have much, but they love one another like crazy.
My parents love me, but it’s not the same thing. Not by a long shot.
“You should partner with him, Dad. Because I never will,” I grouse. I can’t count the number of times in the past few months I have had this conversation.
My dad heaves a sigh. He is a master at business, but he knows very little about relationships.
“Do you plan to see that boy while you’re here, Emily?” my dad asks.
Only every chance I get, if he’ll have me. “I doubt he’ll want to see me. I left him without a single word and haven’t talked to him since.” He’s probably angry at me. So angry that he has moved on. My heart lurches at the very thought of it.
I knew that I was giving Logan up when my dad paid for his brother’s treatment, but I didn’t think it would be permanent. I look down at the tattoo on my inner forearm. My father hates it; I love it. It’s a key with Logan’s name printed down the shaft. Logan unlocked my world. He accepted and loved me exactly as I am, or at least how he thought I was. I just hope he still does.
It’s taking forever to get to my apartment. I have to listen to my dad talk about how fit Trip would be as a husband the whole ride. My mom makes a face at me. She makes me laugh. We have a new understanding since I spilled my guts to her after coming home. I think she gets it, and she’s on my side. But that doesn’t make things any better with my father.
“If that boy is smart, he’ll stay far, far away from you,” my father nearly snarls. He’s ad
amantly opposed to me being with someone so poor.
Logan is rich in all the ways I wish I were. He’s rich in family, steeped in love and compassion, and he loves what he does for a living. Logan’s an amazing artist, and he works at his family’s tattoo parlor, putting his fabulous art on people’s skin. The last time I talked to him, he wanted to go back to college. He got a scholarship, but he had to get a deferment when Matt got sick. They took out a lot of loans to pay for Matt’s first treatment, and when Matt couldn’t work anymore, Logan quit school and took over for him.
“If that boy has any sense at all,” Mom says, “he’s just waiting for you to come back to New York.”
I hope that’s the case. But so much can happen in three months. Women throw themselves at Logan every day. It’s asking an awful lot for him to wait for me for three full months while I find my way back to him.
Mom pats Dad on the knee. “How is his brother doing, darling? I know you get reports.”
I scoot to the edge of the seat. Please tell me he’s okay. Please. I have asked him this more times that I can count, and he refuses to answer me, reminding me of the bargain we made.
“Fine.”
That’s all he says. Just that one word. I flop against the seat back.
“Elaborate, please,” my mom says, smiling at my dad.
“The treatment is working, but he’s not out of the woods. He has to have scans every month, and then they’ll start spreading them out as time goes on.”
My heart clenches in my chest. Matt is better. My sacrifice wasn’t for nothing. Tears start to burn my eyes, and Mom reaches over to squeeze my knee. “That’s good, darling,” she says to Dad. “I’m so glad you were able to help him.”
“I did it so she would come back home,” he says. He glares at me. “Our deal was that she would come home, not go to Julliard.”
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