From That Moment

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  Times sure had changed.

  I turned on my music again, dancing poorly throughout the kitchen as I figured out what I needed to make. I had a bottle of champagne for mimosas because she loved those—we were millennials, after all, it was what we were supposed to do.

  I laughed at that, even if nobody else heard the joke, and then figured out what else I could make for her.

  I liked cooking, even if I wasn’t the best at it.

  I enjoyed making sure that she was cared for because I knew not a lot of people had done that for her in the past. Her girls did it now for sure. And I would be forever grateful that she had found a family amidst the ruins of what she had grown up in and with.

  My hands fisted on the counter, and I counted to ten, doing my best not to imagine hurting the man who had hurt her.

  I couldn’t change the past, but maybe I could make her a future promise.

  I only hoped that she wanted the same thing.

  I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that things had changed for me, the time where I could say that, from this exact point, I loved her and wanted to see where we could go with our lives together. The feeling had been steadily building, and now I didn’t want to turn away from it—something I might have done in the past.

  Not with Paris.

  That meant something.

  The doorbell rang, and I frowned at the clock, wondering how she had gotten here so quickly. Maybe she hadn’t done her hair. We were just going to have a lazy day. I wouldn’t mind that.

  I looked at all the vegetables and eggs I had on the counter and figured they could last for a minute while I went to the door. I walked over, wearing only gray sweatpants and nothing else since I hadn’t bothered to finish getting ready yet. I opened the door, about to make a joke about my dick because…hello, it was Paris and me. Instead, I froze, blinking quickly and wondering if I should have perhaps looked through the peephole before I opened the door.

  “Baby.”

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked Allison as she tried to push her way past me.

  She nearly stepped on my foot with her high heel, and I involuntarily took a step back. She put her hand on my chest, gliding past me into my house.

  I couldn’t physically stop her. If I did, then I’d have to put my hands on her, and I’d end up throwing her out on her ass.

  And that wasn’t something I was about to do.

  “I asked you a question, Allison. And I didn’t invite you in.”

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  “What do you mean? Wait, I know what you mean. Get out. You’re not wanted here.”

  I saw the hurt mixed with calculation in her expression, and I wondered how I could have been so wrong about someone. Then again, I hadn’t looked beyond the surface. Just as she hadn’t. We had been who we needed to be for each other in the moment. We weren’t anything more than that. We never had been. And it had taken me too long to realize that.

  “You don’t need to be cruel,” she said, and that calculating gaze was back.

  “You’re right. I didn’t need to snap. However, you did just force your way into my home. I would like for you to leave, now.”

  “Let me say my piece first.”

  “I don’t need to hear it. You and your guy Tony can ride off into the sunset. What you did in my bed, the fact that I had to get a new fucking mattress and sheets? That’s in the past now. I’m over it. I don’t need to hash it out.”

  “You replaced the mattress that you and I made love on?”

  “Okay, then. We’ve officially reached a new stage of what the fuck. You fucked your ex or whatever he currently is on my bed. Not our bed, mine. I got a new mattress mostly because I needed a new one anyway, and you were the final straw.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re saying these words to me.”

  “I don’t know who you are right now. Because you are not the Allison that I used to date. Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough, and for that, I am sorry. You really don’t need to be here, though.”

  She looked around my home, kind of frowned at my kitchen counter and all the groceries out there so I could make brunch for Paris.

  “You’re going to make a meal for her? You never cooked for me.”

  “Okay, we’re done. Get out.”

  “I hope you’re happy with her. You’ll never have with her what we could have had, though.”

  “You’re right. I have an open and honest relationship with her, and I know she’s never going to fuck her ex in my bed.”

  “You don’t need to keep throwing that in my face.”

  “If you leave, then I won’t have to.”

  Someone cleared their throat from behind me, and I closed my eyes and let out a breath.

  I turned to see Paris standing there, champagne in one hand, a bag of produce in the other. She was wearing jeans and a tank top, her hair piled on the top of her head, and she had indeed not finished it for the day. Because today was supposed to be our lazy day, one where we could just hang out and do nothing.

  And now she was walking in on me shirtless in gray sweats, her favorite thing on me for some unknown reason, with my ex standing in my house, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was too fucking early in the morning for this.

  “Oh, we didn’t see you there,” Allison purred.

  “No, don’t do that,” Paris said, shaking her head.

  “Excuse me?” Allison asked.

  “You heard him, he told you to leave, and he was very polite about it. I spoke to you before this, and you were nice. You were not on whatever trip you’re currently on. You don’t need to resort to whatever you’re doing right now. You are a stronger person than this. If you don’t get the fuck out of his house right now, I’m going to be the one who hits you. Because he’s not going to force you bodily out of the building, because he’s nice like that. I’m the bitch.”

  I held back a smile because she looked so fucking hot saying that.

  Yes, I was fucking in love with Paris.

  “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”

  “Out,” I said.

  “Prior.”

  “Don’t whine. That isn’t you. I don’t know what’s up with you and Tony, and I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry that I wasn’t a good enough boyfriend. Except you don’t need to be here. We’re never going to get back together. And you shouldn’t be acting like this. You’re better than this.”

  “I hate you,” she snapped.

  “Whatever you feel, that’s your right.”

  Paris spoke up. “You don’t hate him. You just hate yourself right now. What you should have done is cut him out of all the photos with you, burn them, and then get drunk and move on. You don’t come to his house and act like this. This isn’t you.”

  “You don’t even know me,” she snapped.

  “We’ve all been you before,” Paris said. “Any woman who’s had a bad day and has lost it has had a moment where she wanted to act like this. Not many actually do it, though. Don’t be this person. Just…leave.”

  “You two deserve each other,” Allison snapped and then stormed out of the house, pushing past Paris on the way. Paris saved the champagne and raised a brow at me.

  “I guess we do deserve each other,” I said.

  “She wasn’t always that weird, right?” she asked, closing the door behind her.

  I reached around her, locked the door, and then kissed her hard, taking the groceries and champagne from her. “No. She wasn’t. You don’t think something’s wrong with her and Tony, do you?”

  “She looked as if she’d had her heart broken, nothing else. I can go out and try to find out if you want,” Paris said.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m not worried. I don’t like that she looked so sad, though.”

  “And she came here and saw you in your fucking gray sweatpants without any underwear, so your dick looks lickably good.”

  I barked out a laugh. “That’s why you like me in
these gray sweats?”

  “It’s a meme. We all like our men in gray sweatpants when they ride low.”

  “Wow. I just learned something new. And I’m never wearing gray sweatpants in front of anyone else again.”

  “You’re damned right. I’m the only one who gets to see your VPL.”

  “How much time have you been spending on social media recently?” I asked, watching her sit herself down on the counter.

  “I had a long week when I wasn’t going into work, and I happened to read a lot of blogs and fan fiction. I can’t help it.”

  “I guess I’m going to be wearing gray sweatpants for you often.”

  “That is what I like to hear,” she said, and I leaned down to kiss her again.

  “You think she’s okay?” I asked, still worried about Allison.

  “Okay, I’m not going to be angry that you kissed me and were thinking of her. We can continue this conversation if you want.”

  I winced. “I don’t want to think that I hurt her in some way that made her act like this.”

  “No, she’s just selfish, and she wants what she can’t have. If she does it again, and we notice something, we can see if there’s an underlying issue. Honestly, I think she was hurt and trying to get what she can’t have anymore. And she can’t have you.”

  “Damned straight.”

  “So, kiss me again and don’t think of her.”

  I set down what I was working with for brunch, wrapped my arms around her, and kissed her hard, biting her lip, slowly nibbling down her neck.

  “Just you.”

  “You’d better.”

  I kissed her again. Paused. “Nothing’s in the oven.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” And then my lips were on hers, and I was slowly stripping her out of her tank top. She’d only worn a little cotton bra, one that barely held her breasts, so I pulled it over her head. Her breasts fell heavily into my palms. I sucked on her nipples, licking, biting. And she moaned, reaching behind the band on my sweatpants to grip my dick.

  I was already hard, wet at the tip, and she rolled her thumb across the crease, slowly squeezing, running up and down my length. I tugged at her jeans, working them down. Suddenly, we were both naked in the kitchen, both of us laughing as we kissed and touched.

  I lay her on my tile floor, slid my hands under her ass, and began to lick, blowing cool air on her clit, eating her out exactly like I had told her I would when we were on the phone together in the shower this morning.

  She arched under me, her hands on her breasts. When she came, I sucked at her orgasm, lapping up her juices before crawling over her, kissing her again, and rolling us both so I was on my back, and she was over me.

  “On me,” I growled.

  “It’s about time,” she whispered.

  I reached for the condom that I had set out in the kitchen earlier in hopes this might happen and rolled it down my length. Then she sank down on me, her pussy clenching my cock. She rocked her hips, moving achingly slow on my dick, riding me until both of us were screaming and panting. I arched up into her, slamming into her hard, over and over again, her breasts bouncing as I did. And then she leaned forward, palms next to my head, kissing me hard. I reached up, gripped her breasts, molding the mounds, pinching the nipples, needing to touch her. I needed everything from her. I moved my hands back down to her ass, spreading her cheeks so I could thrust deeper, fucking her hard in my kitchen. We both shouted, our mouths on each other as we came.

  I rolled to the side, my cock still deep inside her as I looked down at her. We grinned, both of us laughing.

  “I thought I said you had to feed me first,” she teased, her voice hoarse with pleasure.

  “I didn’t stick my dick in your mouth. So, technically, you haven’t eaten dick.”

  “Should I make the joke that my pussy has, or have we reached a whole new level?”

  We both laughed again, my dick twitching inside of her. I sank down, my forehead on her shoulder as I laughed. I never thought I could feel this bliss.

  This was what love was. Awkward moments, kitchen floor sex, and laughing while you were still hard and deep inside the woman you loved.

  And I fucking loved it.

  We cleaned up, both of us taking quick showers separately because we were both starving. Then we drank mimosas and ate a decently done frittata in my living room, and I simply smiled at her, watching the way she moved.

  “What is with you?” she asked, giving me a weird look.

  I shook myself out of my reverie. “Just looking at you. You’re pretty hot.”

  I wasn’t ready to tell her that I loved her. I was barely getting used to the idea myself.

  “You’re pretty hot, too. Thank you for putting on the rest of your clothes, because you in jeans is just as hot as you in sweatpants. Though it takes more work for me to get to your dick, and I needed to eat real food first.”

  I choked out another laugh. “Thanks for that.” I let out a breath, setting my plate and glass down on the table. “I have something to give you.” She opened her mouth to say something, and I shook my head. “Nothing dirty. I promise. It’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about. If it’s too quick, though, you can say something. And you can give it back, and we won’t talk about it again. Only…I wanted to tell you.”

  She went sheet-white for a second, and I thought I had messed up.

  Instead, she smiled and gave me a weird look.

  “What are you doing, Prior?”

  I reached into my jeans’ pocket, and her eyes widened for a minute. I was relieved I hadn’t put the key in a box like I had originally planned. I’d thought a little present would work, but that would look way too much like a ring when neither of us was ready for that.

  “I got you a key to my house,” I said.

  Her eyes widened even further.

  “If it’s too soon, you can tell me to forget it. I’m over at your house, you are over here enough that I figured…why not? We can figure out exactly what it means together over time. Still, you have a drawer here and a toothbrush, mostly because we are both practical, and carrying a bag in and out of the house every day is ridiculous. Anyway, I wanted you to have it.”

  Paris bit her lip, and I was afraid I had fucked up. Instead, she reached down for her purse and pulled out a little fabric bag.

  “Here,” she said, handing over the little cloth pouch.

  I looked down at it, then loosened the little ribbon and laughed.

  “I’ll be damned,” I said. “You wrapped yours.”

  “I’ve had it in my purse for three days, and I had no idea what to do with it. I’m glad you did it first because this was scary.”

  I grinned, cupped her face, and kissed her again. “Beyond scary. So, you get to do the next big thing. Whatever it is. I did my part. I’m exhausted.”

  Paris took the keys away, set them down near her purse on the table, and grinned. “Exhausted, are you? It looks like I’m going to have to take care of you, aren’t I?”

  From the gleam in her eye, I knew I was going to like this very much.

  And when she slowly unzipped my zipper and licked her lips, I knew I had chosen well.

  So. Fucking. Well.

  Chapter 16

  Paris

  Tears nearly filled my eyes, my hands shaking. “Yes, I’ve fallen in love with you. From the deepest part of my soul, down to the very essence of my being. I love you.”

  “Do you talk to all chocolate pastries this way? Or only the ones in your hand.”

  I freed one hand to flip Dakota off before staring lovingly at the pain au chocolat that she had made and brought over especially for me.

  My precious. My beautiful precious.

  “Now you sound like Gollum.”

  “Did I say precious out loud again?” I asked, staring lovingly once more at the half-eaten pastry with the chocolate oozing out in exactly the right way.

  “Yes, and you’re one second away
from petting the damn thing. I have more, you know. You just need to come to the café.”

  “That would require me to put on non-stretchy pants. And after I eat this, I don’t think I’m going to be able to fit into my jeans.”

  “Your leggings are perfectly respectable for the café. Go forth and eat.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to be able to. Because, dear God, this is so good. So amazing.”

  “Am I going to need to give you some space? Because you truly sound as if you’re about to make sweet, sweet love to your pastry.”

  “And maybe I should. Sweet, sweet love.” I leaned forward, pressed my lips to the sweet essence, and got down to it.

  “I’ve never heard you moan like that. Maybe I should have asked Prior if you moan like that.”

  “Shut up. I’m eating.” I licked my lips and sighed.

  “You doing okay?” Dakota asked, laughing.

  “I’m doing splendidly,” I said, going to the kitchen so I could wash my face and my hands. It had gotten a little messy.

  “I love that you can joke with me about pastries. That was a little much,” Dakota said, wiping tears from her face.

  “It just tastes so marvelous. And yet, so simple.”

  “There is nothing simple about puff pastry. The amount of folding and butter it takes to make that perfectly? So the butter doesn’t seep out into the oven and make smoke? It’s not simple.”

  “I figured that out the hard way once. Prior and I were thinking about making croissants on our own, and then I remembered the last time I tried to cook with that much butter. I almost caught my kitchen on fire. So, we decided against it.”

  “Look at you two, baking together and making plans to bake together. It must be serious.”

  I looked over at my friend, trying to sort through my emotions. “I think it is. I have no idea how that happened.”

  “It happened because you two are great for each other. I’m only sorry we didn’t think to set you up with him.”