by Mika Jolie
“I feel that you and I can be good together.”
Butterflies go crazy, low in my stomach, and my heartbeat rages out of control. “What else are you feeling?”
“Well.” Her lips curve into a mischievous smile. “You’re definitely poking my stomach.”
“What else?”
She circles one of my shirt buttons with her finger. Around and around, over and over, slow and steady, and my heart loses its rhythm again. About the time normal cadence returns, she works the button in and out of its hole.
With a tilt of her head, our eyes lock, hers serious. “I want us.”
The words barely leave Cori’s lips, when my mouth crushes down on hers, kissing her like we’ve never kissed before. In that embrace, my worries lose their sting, and optimism raises its head from the dirt. Perhaps, the hope had been there all along, but without me taking control of my destiny, it was trapped, like crystals in a stone.
When we break apart for air, I rest my forehead against hers and gather some much-needed oxygen. “I’ve missed you.”
She splays her hands on my chest and slowly brushes my shirt off my shoulders. Then her lips are on my skin, trailing delicate kisses on the black ink on my chest. “Show me,” she whispers.
Oh, hell yeah. With fucking pleasure. I’d like to say I have willpower and that our lovemaking will be slow. But Cori is in my arms. God . . . I can barely breathe. My brain is on fire and the warmth spreads throughout my entire body.
I am addicted.
The last two weeks were torture. Having her here, now, in my house, telling me she wants me, her kisses . . . this is my salvation.
My hand raises to her hair, and I tangle my fingers in it. My other hand drags along her bronzed shoulders, finds to the knot behind her neck and loosens the strap of her halter top. Leaning in, I kiss along her jaw, down her throat, and then against the hollow of her collarbone, as I unzip the bottom piece of her jumpsuit.
Then I gently push the material down her shoulders, and she steps from the jumpsuit as it falls onto the floor. As flawless as the heart of a diamond, she stands before me in skimpy, black lace panties. Her skin, soft and sun kissed, shimmers golden in the soft light. The moon, in its full splendor, slants in through the window and lights up the room, illuminating every curve of her body in blue radiance—her upward nipples, the contour of her hips.
“Fucking Christ.”
“I was hoping we’d end up starting over.” She meets my gaze, her eyes hooded with desire and something else that I recognize. It matches all the deep-seated emotions stirring inside me. “As boyfriend and girlfriend.”
I pull her against me a little rougher than intended. When our bare chests crush together, I let out a guttural groan. The softness of her skin against the hardness of mine. Fuck me. My mind is blown. I love this woman so much. Her confidence. Her sensuality. She’s kissing me, hard and full of heat, making my pulse soar.
We’re staggering like drunks down the hall, until I scoop her in my arms and carry her up the stairs to my bedroom. We are feasting on each other like starving animals. Our tongues continue to tangle in a hot duet. Teeth, mouths, and hands are everywhere, until I place her on my bed and step back, pulling her panties from her hips as I go.
She meets my gaze with lust-filled eyes. “We’re okay?”
“I owe you at least three more orgasms tonight,” I say, as I strip off the rest of my clothes in nanosecond speed.
“Why three?”
I sink on the bed next to her. “Because this one is a quickie.”
“I love quickies.” Her face changes into a vision of relaxed joy. “Especially when I get three orgasms later.”
Laughing, I roll over her and adjust her under me. In response, she arches her back, wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. Seeking me. Giving me full access to her sweet opening. Promising so much pleasure pressing against the tip of my erection, inviting me to penetrate her walls.
“I love you, Dean.” She smiles at me with a love so intense, it warms my soul like a fireplace on a cold winter’s night.
The emotions spill onto me, making me feel and want things I never thought I would. When I kiss her, it’s hungry and soul-searching. I’m consumed by the woman beneath me. Our bodies are aligned—lips to lips, heart to heart.
“So fucking good,” I mutter.
She shifts her hips and locks her legs around my ass, drawing me deeper. “Faster. Please, Dean. Faster. I need fast,” she urges.
My heart is a train pounding the tracks. Linking our fingers together, I capitulate and give her what she asks. She meets my every move. Each thrust becomes more fervent. Compared to the first time we slept together, which had been intense, this is different. We are connected—spirit, body, and soul.
Love merges with lust as we fuck faster and faster.
“Friends yesterday, lovers today, soulmates tomorrow.”
ONE MONTH INTO OUR RELATIONSHIP, my feelings for Cori have not waned. On the contrary, every day, I fall deeper. The more love I give her, the more I have bursting inside of me . . . crazy, huh?
We’re on our way home from celebrating her twenty-eighth birthday with the rest of the crew in the city. We karaoked, ate and drank too much. Not me though, I’m the driver.
My attention is on the road. Other than the monotonous sound of raindrops beating the roof of my car, blending in with the occasional splash of tires through scattered puddles, there is a comfortable silence around us.
“Tonight was fun,” Cori says as we cruise down the freeway back to Alpine.
My lips curve into a smile. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
“Thanks for organizing everything.”
“Anything for you, Moonchild.” We’ve been living together for a month now. And I couldn’t be happier. Let’s not even talk about my cock; the one-eyed lizard is over the moon.
“I’m sorry I brought Brandon to your birthday gathering.”
I reach for her hand and bring it to my lips. “Now, when we tell our kids about my fateful thirtieth birthday party, I can say we celebrated with the four most important people in my life . . . and Mommy’s date.”
Cori shakes her head. “You’re never going to let me live this one down, are you?”
I laugh. “For you? I’ll make an exception.”
Leaning into me, she places a kiss on my cheek. “You’re the best boyfriend.”
“Ever?”
Cori chuckles. “Ever.”
“Hey, do you think I need to speak to Kate?” I ask, switching the subject. Don’t worry, I’m not hung up on Abercrombie & Fitch dude. I’m over the whole Brandon fiasco. Trust me.
“About?”
“Picnic at Central Park with Emma and Lucas.” I shrug. “I don’t know.” Don’t get me wrong, I think Lucas and Cam are both great catches and all, but I’ve also seen them in action. Most importantly, Lucas has done the relationship thing, even been married and divorced. Settling down is the last thing on his mind.
“Would it be so terrible if something were to develop between them?”
“Well, yeah.” I can feel Cori’s eyes on me. Taking my attention off the road for a second, I meet her amused gaze. Allow me to say, I don’t share her humor. “Lucas and I exchange stories.”
She arches a brow. “About me, too?”
Remember, we don’t talk about the women we care about. “Never.” My voice is full of conviction as I return my attention to the road. The rain continues to fall in heavy sheets across the roadway, slapping harder and faster than my windshield wipers can clear it away, and creating foggy smudges over the glass.
“Good to know.” Cori laughs, not sounding one bit concerned. “Anyway, there’s nothing to worry about. Lucas and Kate are just friends.”
“So were we,” I point out.
“We still are.” From her seat, she leans into me and nuzzles against my neck. “I’m lucky. I’m in love with my best friend.”
We’re still adjus
ting to living together and learning a few things about each other that twenty years of friendship couldn’t teach us. For one, she’s extremely sensitive to much more than I thought. The woman cries every time we watch The Notebook. My opinion? That’s the cheesiest movie ever made. But I watch it with her, over and over, because, one, it makes her happy in a sad way, and two, I get to hold her against me.
Another thing, she’s passionate about the earth. She also gets annoyed when I leave the toilet seat up. We’ve even had a few disagreements. But just because we argue, doesn’t mean I will stop loving her. Side note, makeup sex is fucking out of this world.
Oh, my time with Cam and Lucas has declined a little, but it’s not due to Cori’s demands. I’d actually rather be home with my girl than watch Cam and Lucas pick up random strangers.
You think I’m full of shit. Kid you not. We’ve woven a basket of delicate textures—friendship, trust, lust, and love. I want nothing more than to be with my girl today, tomorrow, forever.
I flick the signal and make a left, opposite of the direction of our house.
“That’s not the way home.”
Home. I love the sound of that word. “The night is not over yet.”
“But it’s raining,” she purrs, “and I was thinking we could cuddle.”
Shifting gears, I pull the car into park, reach over Cori into the glove compartment. As I do so, my arm brushes over the leg of her jeans. “We can cuddle later.” I retrieve a navy silk scarf we used as a blindfold last night. “I have a surprise for you.”
“A repeat of last night, here.” Her eyes sparkle with mirth. “Your car is a bit small. I mean, we get a little crazy . . . but—”
I smile, in spite of the nervous knot in my stomach. “We’re not going to do it in my car.”
“Too bad.”
For a second, I’m tempted to alter my plans and bang Cori in the car. But I refrain. Believe me, that took all of my strength. Trust me when I say this, sex with the right person is addictive as fuck.
“Do you trust me?”
“Always,” she says, holding my gaze.
“Then let me blindfold you.”
Without hesitation, she unbuckles her seat belt, turns her back to me. I gently cover her eyes and tie the scarf into a knot. “Can you see?” I ask in a rough voice.
“Not a thing,” she answers while clipping her seat belt back on.
I rev up the engine and turn on the radio. The Black Keys blasts out of the speakers, the beat pulsing in tune with my racing heart and the rain on the windows.
Less than two minutes later, I let out a long breath as I park. “Don’t move.”
“Not moving.”
I get out of the car and come around for Cori. After unbuckling her, I warn, “I’m going to pick you up.” And scoop her into my embrace. She laughs as her arms loop around my neck.
After kicking the door closed, I move swiftly and carry her to our destination. Rain lashes down on us in cold, icy pellets, biting into our skin. Wet grass and dirt mush under my shoes. Focusing on my mission, I quicken my pace. “Still with me?”
“As long as you want me.”
Slowly, I release her. My gut tightens as I loosen the handkerchief. She blinks, then her eyes adjust to her surroundings. Our elementary school playground, where Cori punched me in the gut twenty-two years ago. The many trees around us. The playing area with the swings and slides for the smaller children.
“How about forever?” My voice is rough, filled with emotions.
She looks at one oak tree in front of her. We’ve spent countless hours sitting and talking under that tree. Cori turns and stares at me for a beat before her gaze swivels back to the tree, then back to me. Looking shaky, she whispers in a cracked voice, “Dean.”
“I figure, this is the perfect place to ask you to marry me.”
Her eyes lower to the little black velvet box in my hands, and she gasps. “Oh.”
“You and I are intertwined. It’s been this way . . . a long time. Except, for the longest time, I was just the boy friend. I don’t want to be only your best friend and boyfriend anymore.” I drop down to one knee in front of her, right into a puddle of cold rain. But I don’t care. “We’re best friends, and lovers, and now, I want to be your forever.” With butterflies in my stomach and my head buzzing with possibilities, I ask Cori the most important question of our life. “Will you marry me?
I flip open the box and present the round, brilliant diamond engagement ring I had designed especially with Cori in mind. It’s graceful, refined, and feminine, with a whimsical feel. Just like my girl.
Except for the huge raindrops splattering with charged energy, there is absolute silence. My heart thuds in my chest. “Say something, Moonchild.”
“Dean.” She chokes out my name. It’s hard to tell when she starts crying, and even more difficult to discern between her tears and the rain as she turns her face to the sky above.
“Don’t cry. Just say yes. Lucas and Cam are betting against me,” I tease.
She laughs, takes my hands in hers and brings me back to my feet. “You’re soaking wet.”
I smile. “So are you, but I—” She cups my face and kisses me hard on the lips. With a groan, I pull a fraction away. “Is that a yes?”
With a quick brush of her hand, she brushes matted hair away from her eyes. “God, yes. I’ll be your wife.”
My heart rolls over, flips like a somersault. I’m an overflowing bottle of bubbling joy. “I love you, Coriander Phillips.”
“I love you, Dean Conrad Morello.”
And there you have it. It’s official like a referee with a whistle, I’m going to marry my best friend. Ever since Cori and I met over twenty years ago, I knew she was special. I knew what we had was special. Somewhere between all of our laughs, long talks, buzzing texts, even the stupid little arguments, I fell in love.
Big hugs to my beta readers for your patience and your sage words. Thank you to Sarah of Okay Creations for the gorgeous cover! PK Designs Editing and Graphics, and Formatting Done Wright for your brilliance. Huge gratitude to all the bloggers who continue to participate in my journey. Love to all of my readers. Without you, this ride wouldn’t be as much fun. A special shout out to my husband, you’re sexier than any book boyfriend. Thank you for all of your support and our Happy Chaos.
Old Fashioned Recipe – Coriander’s drink of choice
Old Fashioned recipe
rating
2 oz. bourbon whiskey
2 dashes Angostura® bitters
1 splash water
1 tsp sugar
1 maraschino cherry
1 orange wedge
Mix sugar, water and angostura bitters in an old-fashioned glass. Drop in a cherry and an orange wedge. Muddle into a paste using a muddler or the back end of a spoon. Pour in bourbon, fill with ice cubes, and stir.
Read more: Old Fashioned recipe http://www.drinksmixer.com/drink407.html#ixzz4aVpJUNz4
https://open.spotify.com/user/mikajb/playlist/5leQ5ruSjVUvTqph93OEg8
Maneater
Grace Mitchell
Volare
Dean Martin
Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood
Nina Simone
Atlas, Rise!
Metallica
Stairway to Heaven
Led Zeppelin
Dancing on My Own
Robyn
Oh Girl
The Chi-Lites
Stressed Out
Twenty One Pilots
Work
Rihianna and Drake
Dancing On My Own
Callum Scott
Sway
Dean Martin
La Traviata
Luciano Pavoratti
Say Goodbye
Dave Matthews Band
Friends
Ed Sheeran
Awake My Soul
Mumford & Sons
You’re The One That I Want
John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John
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Martha’s Way Series
The Scale
Need You Now
Tattooed Hearts
Wrapped in Red
Poison & Wine Series
Somewhere to Begin
