Her Surprise Protector

by J. P. Comeau

  “Oh, it was.” Riker sat down again. “By the way, I brought something. Let me grab it out of the car.”

  I didn’t know if I could take any surprises right now, good or bad, but Riker had already let the front door swing shut behind him. Less than a minute later, he returned, holding a notebook of his own.

  “Is that what I think it is?” I asked, setting down my wine.

  “Don’t get too excited. I never said I was any good,” Riker reminded me, handing me his poetry notebook. His fingers lingered a fraction of a second before releasing it.

  I held the book like it was the original handwritten copy of one of the great classic novels. Reverently, I opened it. This wasn’t just writing. Riker had given me a window, and I could use it to take a look into his soul.

  Riker’s poetry was…intense. I tended to use physical things to anchor my thoughts when I wrote poetry, but Riker clearly didn’t employ that strategy. Different stanzas often felt disconnected and unrelated until I read them again, paying close attention to the words. Riker wasn’t the man I had thought when I first met him. His poetry felt the same way – words didn’t retain their conventional meanings. I had to look below the surface to grasp what he was conveying.

  “It’s…emotional,” I said aloud, my voice little more than a murmur. I was talking to myself to help make sense of the poems, but I knew Riker was listening. “It’s emotional. The meaning to some of the words is vailed. I can’t just read the words once, you know?”

  “I told you I wasn’t any good,” Riker reminded me, escaping into his glass.

  “Hush, you. Don’t put words in my mouth. I never said they weren’t good. They’re very you, and you are a very good poet.” Riker didn’t answer, probably not convinced. I continued browsing, but the ominous tone of the current poem didn’t sit well with me. No, it didn’t sit well with that feeling, the one that had plagued me on and off since Riker told me the news.

  Then I read the very last poem in the book, and it was all about loss, loneliness, and taking steps back. That was when I finally realized what was wrong.

  I closed the book. Not long ago, I would have approached this issue indirectly – beat around the bush a bit, so to speak, fearful Riker would think my distress was unwarranted or I was overreacting. Now, I felt comfortable with Riker, and I knew he would sense my mood, and he would never laugh at me for feeling uncertain. “Riker, I’m glad to be home and all, and I love you so much for making that possible, but…I’m kinda sad because we won’t see each other as often anymore. I’ll be here with Bree, and you only have weekends in the Hamptons…”

  “Well, I have to go back to Manhattan and work.” He shrugged, not a dismissive motion, but an I-can’t-do-anything-about-that one gesture. “I can come here too, you know. We can all be here… You, me and Bree.”

  “I know. I just feel like this is a step backward for us since we won’t be living together anymore.”

  “Elena.” Riker gathered me into his right side, still holding his glass in his left hand. “I’ve had too much wine for this. I suck at talking about the future when I drink. But, I can tell you this isn’t a step backward. It’s a step forward. Your ex threatened our relationship, and now we can both relax – not take a step back, relax – and enjoy each other.” The empty glass clinked as Riker set it down on the wooden table in front of us, and he deliberately unhooked my fingers from the stem of my own glass, replacing it with his. “I don’t know about you, but…” The backs of his fingers brushed up and down my arm, tracing from the strap of my tank top to my elbow. “I think we should start enjoying each other right now.”

  For a man with abs that stood out like a mountain range, Riker could give the softest kisses, one of which he placed on my lips. Kisses needed to have a time limit – at least, that was what I had always believed before Riker. If you just sat there and let one single kiss linger without renewing the motion, it got stale and dry.

  Kisses with Riker were never like that. No matter how slow the motion of the kiss, it always felt incredible the whole way through. Maybe it was just because I always loved being close to Riker, no matter the circumstances.

  Of course, we couldn’t discount the other kind of kisses, too. The kind where I pushed Riker away from me so I could pull his T-shirt over his head, then gave him another shove so that his back hit the couch, his head leaning against the big plush arm so he could gaze up at me lustfully. The kind of kisses that I delivered slowly or quickly as I chose, wherever I chose so I could taste his skin.

  Riker could never let me stay on top for long. It was my turn to watch the world spin and look up at him, my turn to lose an article of clothing to eager hands.

  Remember that Elena-sense that I mentioned Riker had? Apparently, he used that for more than just knowing when something was wrong. The instant his lips touched my stomach just next to my belly button, I tensed because it tickled. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Riker had pressed his lips just a little harder against my skin. But the soft kisses he trailed around the area usually covered by my clothes caused the stubble on his face to brush a bit too hard over my body. I had to resist the urge to squirm under his touch. My confused mind rapidly switching back and forth between pleasure and near discomfort.

  But, as usual, Riker noticed something different about how I lay underneath him and moved his mouth up to my ear instead. “We should take this to the bedroom.” His warm breath against my ear did things to me, and all I could do was nod - a limp mess.

  Luckily, transportation from couches to beds was included in the Riker security package. He picked me up like I weighed nothing at all and carried me down the hall. I managed to hit the living room light switch with a toe as we passed, giggling as Riker raised an impressed eyebrow.

  Darkness enveloped us when the bedroom door closed. I welcomed it, using the moment as an opportunity to run my hands up and down the hard, lean body that pressed me into the bed. The soft kisses left my tummy alone. Instead, they listened to my body language when I leaned my head back and applied themselves to my throat. Teasing fingers played with my breasts, pulling a soft, needy sound from deep in my chest.

  Shifting moonlight streamed through a single gap in the blinds over the window, illuminating sporadic flashes of Riker’s face. When he lifted his lips from my neck - intensity. When he reached down to relieve me of my shorts - concentration. When his palm rubbed the warm readiness between my legs, and I let out a tiny oh - pleased. When my own hand crept beneath the waistband of his shorts, parting layers of fabric to wrap my fingers around him…

  Riker lost his gentleness. Gentlemanly kisses turned into battles for dominance. Riker’s searching tongue and crushing lips dared me to tell him, no, but I had no interest in doing that. In fact, I couldn’t remember what no meant or why I would ever want to say that word to Riker.

  His erection pushed against my thighs, just touching the spot that ached for him so badly. Callused hands pressed my shoulders into the covers, firm as the part of him that wanted me. I’m taking you, his body told me. And I’m doing it now.

  Well, finally, was my own body’s trademark sassy response.

  He pushed into me, and the throaty sound of pleasure he made when my readiness let him slip all the way in nearly sent me over the edge. Luckily, I had the delightful sexiness of his bulging shoulders to kiss as a distraction as he held me still against his long thrusts.

  “Riker…” It was wonderful – and so hot, how did I end up with this man – to watch Riker visibly emerge from the primal act of having sex to glance into my eyes, checking that I was okay. His hands slipped from my shoulders to my breasts, then down my shifting hips to my thighs, then to my calves, where he easily lifted my legs and put them against his own shoulders.

  My raised legs put an arch in my back and let him find the perfect spot inside me. One cautious, slow push tested my comfort with the position, then the quick movements were back, but I could feel a change. Now that we were both getting what we wanted, we
could succumb to the desire for pleasure, but do it lovingly, pausing for long moments to give little reminders of how much we meant to each other. I could feel pleasure building inside me, but not so fast that I lost myself to it and couldn’t feel Riker’s movements getting jerkier, faster, as he kept pace with me.

  Riker hit the right spot at the perfect speed, and my entire body tensed at once, sending a thousand pulsing signals of pleasure that blocked out my ability to think. I emerged from the state, gasping for breath, to realize that Riker had either collapsed on top of me or my pleasure-induced strength had dragged him down.

  He rolled over and I spotted a series of suspicious, red lines across his back. “Whoo-” I almost choked over the dryness in my throat and had to swallow a couple times. “Whoops.”

  Riker rolled his eyes at me and took my hand, steadying my shaky legs so we could get a shower. Light blue walls swayed in my vision, and I knew we had to be in the bathroom because it was the only room in the house that had tan walls.

  Suddenly, I was so, so very tired. Streams of water hit my skin and woke me up long enough to finish our shower. But the second Riker turned the spigots off, I felt the soft gray blanket of exhaustion weighing down my eyelids once more.

  I plopped onto the bed, too tired even to lift my legs. Riker’s hands closed around my calves again, much more gently and carefully this time, and he lifted them onto the bed. Soft sheets floated to rest on top of me, and Riker’s arm snuck under my head.

  My lips twitched, trying to deliver the three words on repeat in my brain, but I didn’t have the energy to even say them once. No problem. I would have my entire life to say, “I love you” to Riker.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Riker

  Sometimes, no matter how successful you were in life, some things just scared you. Not scared like you came home and found your door wide open, or scared like you just avoided a car crash – scared like if you messed this one thing up, your life would change forever, and not for the better.

  To an objective person, it might seem quite impossible to mess up the simple question, “Would you like to move in with me?” A question comprised of exactly eight words and took less than two seconds to say. I wasn’t an objective party, though. I was very, very much invested in receiving the answer I desired, which, of course, was yes.

  Every weekend since living in Manhattan together, I opened my mouth at least twice a day to ask her that question and shut it again. Elena loved her home in Montauk, and I worried that the solace she found on that quiet beach in her cozy clapboard house would trump the allure of my grand mansion and, well…me.

  Conversely, I did know that Elena worried sometimes. She worried that Bree would make her way outside and get swept off her feet by the pounding surf. After Oscar, she confessed living in a secluded area was often frightening. Elena also worried that since the landlord had refused to erect a fence and the lease wasn’t up for several months, her concern for Bree’s safety would continue until the lease terminated.

  Rich as I was, paying for a fence around Elena’s property would cost me nothing at all. However, it wasn’t my property, and – also rich as I was – I couldn’t do whatever I wanted to the place. Elena had already told me that the landlord hadn’t even been willing to let her put up a fence if she saved for it and paid part of the cost since the house was historical, and that was part of its charm.

  The simple solution? For Elena to move in with me. We had comfortably settled into living together in New York City, and I missed having her and Bree around so much. But I knew how big and lonely this place could get, and I would only be able to be here from Thursday evening to Sunday evening. She wouldn’t want that - surely she wouldn’t want that…

  Weeks stretched into months, and before I knew it, Elena and I had spent another month living apart. It had now been about four months since we started dating in June. The days were growing shorter, and while the sun still warmed the beaches during the day, a chill sprung up at night that saw everyone leave their houses wearing coats in the morning.

  One weekend in October, on a beautiful fall afternoon spent exploring one of the Hamptons’ nature preserves with Bree, I decided to make my move. It took me about half an hour of testing the waters and throwing out subtle questions designed to help me get a read on Elena’s possible responses. Finally, when we stopped to fill up our water bottles, I gave up trying to figure it out and blurted out the question. “Will you and Bree come live at the Eagle’s Perch with me?”

  “Of course,” Elena replied.

  I just stared. Water ran over the sides of my bottle and soaked my hand until Elena tugged my hand off the button. “Really?”

  “Yes, silly. I miss living with you more than anything.” Her nose was pink from our long walk and the slight chill in the air, her eyes bright.

  “Oh. Well, I had a whole speech about why you should move in with me prepared, but I guess I don’t need it.” And now I have a speech for myself about waiting so long to ask.

  “There’s a problem, though,” Elena reminded me. “The lease. It’s up in six months. I can try to find someone to sublease-”

  “Or I can just pay it off right now.” Nothing was going to keep Elena from me any longer, especially not a stupid piece of paper. “Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. When do you want to move in?”

  “Next weekend?” she suggested. “That gives me time to figure everything out.”

  “Well, since you’re moving in with me, you won’t have to pay rent, right?”

  Elena regarded me suspiciously. “Maybe? I can pay rent if you want.”

  “No, I don’t want that at all. I mean that you definitely won’t have rent, as a statement. So, you won’t need a job?”

  “No, Riker,” Elena replied with an adorable eye roll, “I’m not quitting my job.”

  At least, it was worth a try, but I hadn’t expected any other answer. It would be nice if she let me take care of things monetarily since she worked so hard to be a wonderful mom to Bree. On the other hand, Elena liked to keep busy, and she enjoyed her job. “Okay.”

  The week that followed that Saturday, impatience dogged me in everything that I did. No results within my company were good enough; reports came in too slowly; security systems didn’t get installed fast enough. Nothing I did made the dragging days pass any quicker. I stood on the edge of a precipice of impatience. I had taken everyone in my staff who had contact with me to the edge as well, but a slightly different one – to the edge of their patience. I could feel them walking on eggshells around me, and that only added to my desire to throw my hands up and go home to Elena.

  I knew that very woman wouldn’t approve, though, and she had her own job to do. Going home would be pointless because I knew Elena wouldn’t give in to my impatience and ditch her work to be with me. So, by Wednesday morning, I decided instead of storming out of the building and hopping on my private jet, I would stay through my whole four-day workweek. And on Thursday I even managed not to get impatient with my pilot when the jet had a small issue that delayed departure for a few minutes.

  Finally, I found myself on the ground in the Hamptons. Seeing Elena that night washed away the cares of the week. I slept alone on Thursday evening, but that was okay. Tomorrow evening, she would come to sleep here for good. As long as I had Elena nearby, everything else would fall into place.

  I hired a moving company who had no problem moving all of Elena’s belongings into the mansion by Saturday evening. Her furniture occupied one of the guest bedrooms, converting it into an impromptu storage room until we decided what to do with it.

  Sunday afternoon, we converted another guest bedroom into a bedroom for Bree where she could both play and sleep. “Do you mind if I paint the walls a different color?”

  I glanced around. Neutral gray might not be the best for a room that was supposed to be fun and colorful enough to entertain a little girl. “Of course not. Pick any color you want.”

  “Do you like it, Honey? It’s
your room! Your room,” Elena repeated, pointing at Bree. “See?” She opened a big wooden chest to show Bree her toys. Bree’s eyes lit up, and she immediately pulled a stuffed horse, a small dollhouse and a plastic car out of the chest. I didn’t really see how those three things could be playmates, but Bree evidently did as she sat on the rug from her old bedroom and played.

  “She’s going to love it here, and so am I…. Oh! I almost forgot. Remember how I told you Payton was looking for a house instead of living in a busy apartment complex? We talked, and she’s actually going to move into my old place. She would have been willing to take over the lease, but since you already paid it off, she’s signing a new contract for a year. So, I’ll still get to see the place! Michael isn’t one to run off… like you know who.” Elena glanced over at her daughter.

  “That’s wonderful!” My enthusiasm surprised her, but I had good reason to be excited. If Elena could go back and visit her old house, that would erase any worry or doubt she had about moving in with me. I would have to remember to thank Payton when I had the chance.

  Everything was falling into place, just as I had expected. Elena had a way of making that happen for me.

  The next few months were a blur. I had never seen myself as a good father. Honestly, I knew that I could be hard on people, I was impatient, and I got angry too easily sometimes. But somehow, I found that when I was around Bree, I could never be anything but tender and understanding. I wanted her to trust me and love me like her mother did.

  Sure enough, after a month or two, Bree didn’t mind at all when I stayed home with her while Elena ran an errand or went shopping with Payton. I had become a permanent fixture in Bree’s life. And I intended to stay that way and be the best father I could be.

  A month after Elena and Bree moved in with me, Bree’s third birthday arrived. I knew what she wanted, Elena knew what she wanted, Payton knew what she wanted – in fact, the entire world knew what she wanted because Bree told everyone who would listen she was getting a puppy for her birthday.