One Day After Never (The Second Time's the Charm STANDALONE Series Book 1)

by Whitney Walker

  “I’m going to respect that, because I don’t want to spoil what’s coming, but you do owe me some details.”

  I am still lying on my back when he returns to the bed, laying a small gift bag on my stomach. He got me a gift! It’s my turn to jump up and grab the box I’ve carefully wrapped, and had hidden in my closet, in case I was the sole gift giver. I hand it to him and bounce on my knees on the bed.

  “You are going first, Peyton. I insist. I’m invoking the ladies-first rule!”

  I peek inside my bag. I can’t believe what I see! The same robin egg-blue that days before made my stomach rise into my throat today makes me want to jump from the bed with joy.

  It feels as if I can remove the contents of this three-by-three box, fill it with every horrible Christmas memory, and close the lid to banish them forever. Every Christmas wish I’d dreamed of is tied up in the perfect Tiffany bow of white ribbon. I am speechless. And grateful! I take my time untying the package, then lift the blue lid to reveal a silver bracelet. I know the collection. In cursive writing is the word “love”.

  I lift my new treasure from the box and hand it to him, then stretch my arm forward. He fastens the clasp and positions the word in the middle of my wrist. “I thought you’d like having love right there all the time. To remind you that it’s all you need.”

  I smile. One that overtakes my whole face. “I can’t even tell you how much this means to me.” I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, pleasantly surprised he barely even has morning breath.

  “How’d you pull off getting me a gift when you’ve been gone?”

  “I might owe Zach. He said I cost him a small fortune buying for his own girlfriend since she was there.”

  “I’ll be sure to thank him.” I kneel and kiss him again then push a small box into his hands. “Now you!”

  J.T. tears open the paper and lifts the lid on the box. It is a Shinola wallet on which I had J.J.W. imprinted. His thumb slides over the dents in the leather. “How did you know?”

  “The monogram on your bag,” I say pointing to his well-traveled canvas companion in the corner. I want him to have reminders he isn’t Joseph Trouble.

  “I love it, Peyton. Thank you. It’s Jacob, by the way.”

  “I wondered. Thank you! We had the same idea. I wanted you to have something from me that would always be with you.” I make a face at the end of the sentence. “On second thought, that sounds a little more selfish—”

  “Stop. I love the thought. You know, had I known, I would have showered you with more gifts.”

  “This one was better than ten, J.T.”

  “I don’t know about that, but maybe we could count what happens next as additional gifts.” He leans over so I am forced onto my back as he continues to kiss me. When we finally come up for air, I know I wear a devilish expression. “I think I might know one exception to the rule about giving being better than receiving.”

  Three incredible orgasms later, my revered, cherished, and worn-out body can’t move a muscle. His fingers, and tongue, and penis have wreaked havoc in the best way possible. We lie next to each other, both of our chests rising as our breath restores to normal.

  “I don’t deserve something this good,” I gasp.

  His head swivels quickly in my direction.

  “Like hell. You’ve got make-up sex coming your way all day for twenty plus shitty Christmases. If I can deliver, that is. Holy hell. You wear me out.”

  “I’m not sure how much more I can take if you can dish it out.” I can barely speak I’m so relaxed. I thought about the sex I’ve had prior with the perfect romantic backdrops. Here, I am just in my old double bed, but damn! I thought I had the fairy tale several times before but nothing has ever rocked my world like this. The English language doesn’t contain adjectives to describe this.

  “It’s time to dish on your last few weeks, Peyton. God knows I can’t do anything else but listen right now.”

  He’s been patient, for sure. His healthy dose of satiation should help him to consume this information. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. You don’t want to know. Kyle went crazy trying to woo me back. First, he sent flowers to the movie set. I took apart the bouquet and shared them with all the single, and married, ladies. Then, he bought my friends and I floor-seat tickets to the hottest concert in town. They dragged me to a suite and trapped me so that I had to talk to him. He asked how I was so happy without him. I didn’t share all my reasons.” I reach out and touch my index finger to his lips. He puckers against it. “I told him it was yoga, which is also the truth. The next day, he showed up at my yoga class. Don’t think for a second there I thought of going back with him. After I sent the picture, I was done.”

  “Picture?”

  “Yep. Right when I got back from the funeral, my girlfriend let it slip that while I was gone, he helped console his ex-girlfriend through her job loss. He doesn’t have a compassionate side, so I knew his idea of consolation. He wouldn’t come with me for my mother’s death, but apparently, job loss is fuck-worthy. Sorry about my French. After she told me, I gathered as many girls as I could around the bar, ordered them whatever shot they wanted, lined up the glasses along the bar and took a picture. Then, we toasted and the bartender took a picture of that. Then I took a picture of the receipt. I took the time to put the pictures in a collage. It said ‘this one’s on you, asshole.’ That was it. Well that, and the $1,278 bar tab I put on his credit card. I tipped really well.”

  “Damn. Remind me not to mess with you, Jennings.”

  He laughs, but I wonder if he judges my actions as harsh or a minor transgression. Better not to know. He turns toward me, cupping my face, looking directly into my eyes. “In all seriousness, I won’t do that. I don’t want it done to me and I won’t do it to you. I won’t hurt you if it’s in my control. It’s not how I roll, and I hope you will extend me the same courtesy.”

  Well, that got deep quickly.

  “Yes, I agree. I mean I will, or I do.” Shit, that sounded like wedding vows.

  “So, now that we’ve got that out of the way, you were saying?”

  “I thought we were done, and I was glad because I’d told you I would deal with it and I had. I was shocked when the flowers came and, oh, the premier invite. That was him too. But you know how that worked out.”

  “That worked out very, very well. I got to see that dress.”

  “And I got the surprise of a lifetime. Well, that was before today and my amazing present. And a spoil-me-rotten amount of orgasms in twenty-four hours.”

  “Back to the story. How did you end up in People magazine?”

  “Kyle got me an acting job that I was really excited about. In one of the scenes there was an engagement. He took the opportunity to say ditto to the fake proposal in the script. I had to say yes to him because I couldn’t very well humiliate the hell out of him. Kyle does not do humiliation. He might have killed me.”

  “I hope you don’t mean that literally. I don’t know about you, but when I propose I would really prefer somewhere memorable.”

  He looks serious and I hang on his words hoping our wants match up.

  “Somewhere like the mall.”

  I punch him in the stomach, just hard enough that he has to flex to avoid the blow. Bonus! It brings a new definition to the term ripple effect.

  “Ha, ha, I am not falling for that! For the record, I want one-on-one and somewhere good. Like exotic or ski-hill good.” Then I add a smile for good measure. “Just in case.”

  “Duly noted. And I couldn’t have said it better myself.” This is becoming my new favorite inside joke.

  “So then, he followed me home from the movie set. There was an engagement party already in full swing, waiting for us. I finally escaped the party to my room and when he followed me, again, I told him I wasn’t ever marrying him. That’s when he shredded my blanket.” I cringe at the memory. “It sucked, but then it was over and the rest, as they say, is history. I swear. An
d for the record, I was worried about you and the damn pictures the whole time they were snapping them. I would have told you as soon as you got here and asked how everything was while you were away. Quite frankly, it was terrible, and now you are here, and it’s been incredible. More than incredible.” I lean in and kiss him again. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “The pleasure, Peyton Jennings, is all mine.”

  “I suppose we should drag ourselves to the shower and separate?”

  “I would take you with me today, but it will be a tough day for Ellie. It always is. I will break it to my mother that she is no longer the only woman in my life and then I will introduce you. Like, as soon as I get back from this ski trip I am now dreading more than my next dental appointment.”

  I snuggle up to him, basking in his kindness. “Go and have fun. Just miss me.”

  “You know I will.”

  “And we still have tonight, right?”

  “Yes. I will be counting down the minutes until I am back in this bed with you. Finishing off the rest of your gifts.”

  “You know this was already my best Christmas ever, right?”

  He nods. “Daylight. Maroon 5.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the song for today.”

  “I’m going to dread the daylight too. I’m just going to need to know that you are in one piece every day. Then we have New Year’s Eve. I can’t wait to kiss you at midnight.”

  “Me neither. And for that dress. I already can’t wait to see you out of it. I mean, in it. Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

  I laugh. He sighs. We are both happy.

  “Just promise me I’ll see you first thing on the 30th.”

  “You don’t think that’s the first thing I will do? That’s an easy promise to make. I promise.”

  After returning from bowling, where I did indeed kick a little ass, I spend the rest of the afternoon primping for my last evening with J.T. When he texts he is counting down the minutes to seeing me, and there are only about twenty-five minutes left in the countdown, butterflies dance in flight in my stomach.

  I am pacing the living room floor, hardwood cool under my bare feet, watching for headlights to come into view. I cinch the belt of my robe and shiver in the draft. Or maybe in anticipation of what is to come.

  Everything is ready. Now I just need him.

  He takes the turn into the driveway rather quickly. I hope it means he is equally as excited to be coming home to me as I am to have him here. I figure he will use the side door into the kitchen, and I figure correctly. He knocks twice then I hear the door open. “Peyton, you have to learn to lock the door. I hope you don’t leave your door open in L.A.!” His voice is coming closer to the kitchen with each footstep.

  He rounds the corner where I am waiting. He freezes in place. I’ve dimmed the lights but can see his eyebrows rise to reveal all of the beautiful blue that makes his eyes so special. One corner of his mouth crooks up, forming the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen on a man’s face. He still doesn’t move, a bit dazed at what’s before him.

  “Holy shit.”

  I am taking a chance. This could be unforgettable or end badly, but holy shit with a smile seems a good start.

  He takes a step forward, mouth gaping, gaze carnal. “You are going to be my undoing.” He stops abruptly, as if he has reached an invisible barrier. “I don’t think I could stop looking at you if I tried.” He takes another step, narrowing his eyes into tiny slits as if to determine if they are deceiving him.

  “Happy Birthday, J.T.” I am sitting on the countertop, holding a small chocolate cake with three flickering candles in the white frosting. I lift it toward him. “I hope this is okay.” He stands before me and the candlelight frames his finely featured face in silhouette.

  “It’s more than okay, Peyton.”

  He is standing between my legs, inches from my body. I can feel his heat, my whole body coming alive with the rush of sexual energy emanating. I lift the cake until the candle flames dance in front of his perfectly full lips. “Three candles. Past, present and future. Make a wish, J.T.”

  The sexy-dimple smile returns and his eyes blink, long eyelashes fluttering, then close in concentration. The flames extinguish with his breath and he reaches his index finger into the frosting on the cake. His finger finds my mouth and I suck the sweetness from it, swirling my tongue around the tip before he retracts it. He sucks in an inhale. “The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen is sitting on the counter decked out in the sexiest white lace I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure there’s a wish I can make better than what’s already come true.”

  My cheeks tinge hot with his compliment. I feel beautiful in this lingerie. It is wedding-night white, and I bought it when I wanted and needed to feel innocent, at a time my reality was neither. I’d only worn it once. Alone. It is a sheer nightgown with a flowy hide-any-imperfection bottom and a tight lace bodice with delicate ribbon straps. They tie halter-style, lifting my breasts into a perfect cleavage, full and voluptuous. Matching white panties have a g-string attached to a waistband of the same lace as the bodice. It is simple, feminine and pretty.

  He takes the cake from my hands, sets it on the counter, and cups my face.

  “You are so beautiful, Peyton. You look like an angel. A sight for sore eyes.”

  My brow furrows at the thought of his having sore eyes. Hopefully, he hasn’t been crying.

  He leans into me, exhaling softly, then gently pinches the skin on the top of my bare thigh. “Making sure this is real.”

  It was a breathless whisper, just centimeters from my lips, and his closeness and warmth do crazy things to my insides. I lick my lips, ready for him to take me in a kiss. He moves the cake to the side, his eyes remaining steadfast, locked on mine.

  “I can’t, for the life of me, imagine what I’ve done to deserve this.” He places his hands on either side of me on the countertop. He leans in. “I’ve never…”

  I cross my ankles behind his back and pull him forward with my legs. His forehead is pressed against mine. “How can I ever thank you for today?”

  Our lips are like magnets resisting the pull. I want him. “I can think of one way.” My lips form the words brushing against his, then suddenly his hands are everywhere. Wrapped around my back, arms, breasts, shoulders, caressing and enveloping. His lips crash hard against mine, tongue an orchestrated assault against my mouth.

  His hands pin my face in place as he ravishes my lips, his afternoon stubble scraping against my sensitive skin, but hurting in a good way. My fingers tousle and tangle in his hair as I grip it tighter and pull it harder. He sucks in breaths of air.

  He pulls his sweater over his head and presses his naked torso into my lace-covered bodice. My arms wrap around his back and pull him into me. I want him closer! My breasts flatten against his chest and I scratch his back from his shoulders down to his waist. His hands slide up the outside of my thighs, his large hands gripping them tightly at the top.

  J.T. surrenders the attack on my lips and moves to my left breast, taking it in his mouth over the lace. Slowly, he lets it slide through his teeth. I brace myself against the tantalizing sensation, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

  One finger slides inside me.

  “So wet. So hot.”

  The words float into my ear. Another finger joins. I moan as he twists them while sliding them outward. My head falls backward, and he kisses and nibbles both sides of my neck. “Come for me, baby.”

  It doesn’t take long with his fingers moving in and out of me while his thumb brushes my clit. His other hand massages my breast and rolls my nipple between his thumb and finger. Chills run up and down my spine and I gasp loudly as the orgasm tears its way through me. My insides throb around his fingers. “Oh my God, Joe!”

  I rest my head against his shoulder to catch my breath while my body settles back into itself. I realize he is standing stiff as a board, hands by his sides. His hands and lips are no longer anywhere on my body
. “What is it?”

  “You almost made me forget I don’t do birthdays.” His hand moves to his chest, rubbing the dog tags between his finger and thumb. It hits me. This is my fault. A one syllable mistake. I’d called him Joe.

  I’d taken a chance with the cake, but I am going bigger now. My arms already around his back, I move them upward to the nape of his neck. I press our faces together, cheekbone to cheekbone, hard, to distract him. I take the chain in my fingers and move it up his neck slightly. “J.T.,” I clearly articulate the two letters this time, “you’ve punished yourself enough.” My tone is firm, not to be argued against. I feel every hard muscle in his torso tense but he isn’t stopping me.

  “No,” he chokes out, agony in the word.

  The chain is over his ears. “Yes. It’s time to let go. Please. It’s okay.”

  He shakes his head, mine moving in line with his. “I can’t,” his voice cracks.

  “Yes. You can.” My voice sounds strong against his resignation. I finish pulling the chain over his head and he gasps but remains in the embrace of my legs, not pulling away. I reach for his hand by his side and press the dog tags into his palm, then close his fingers around it. “You can keep it close enough to remember, but it doesn’t have to own you,” I whisper.

  My lips move to his neck and I kiss all around the spot the necklace has just vacated. When I finish all the area I can reach, I cup his face between my hands and tenderly kiss his lips.

  “I’ll never forget.”

  It sounds agonizing.

  “But it’s been ten years. That’s a long time. I can forgive myself enough to move forward.”

  It sounded a bit like he was asking me, but I know he must come to this on his own. I give him what I think is the truth, “I think so, J.T.”

  He closes his eyes looking like he is contemplating what comes next. “Will you make me forget about everything for a few minutes?”

  He doesn’t give me the chance to answer the question. The metal dog tags clank as they fall onto the granite countertop and his hands move from my shoulders down to my hips and back up again, clinging to me like I to him moments before. It is his turn now.