by L.H. Cosway
“Like this,” he said, voice low. He slotted the capsule in and pushed down the lever. I had no clue why that was sexy. It just was.
“Thanks.”
“So,” he continued, still hushed. “What was all that about last night?”
My pulse quickened. “Last night?”
“Out in the hallway with Dad. You looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights.” There was a hint of amusement in his tone.
“I needed to use the bathroom, and I wasn’t wearing a bra. Kind of embarrassing that I bumped into your dad on the way there.”
“Right. Because I could’ve sworn you were trying to sneak into my room.”
Oh, he just loved this. I shook my head. “Nope. Just a middle-of-the-night call of nature I’m afraid.”
There was affection in his laugh, then his voice turned husky. “Well, if you happen to find yourself wandering the hallways again tonight, just know my door is always open.”
I shivered and grabbed my coffee, then went to join the others at the table. The devilish look in Dylan’s eyes would be my undoing.
The next few hours passed in a lazy fashion. I helped Dylan prepare the food, same as yesterday. And just like yesterday he drove me to the height of distraction with his little flirtations and subtle touches.
Just before dinner, my phone pinged. I casually pulled it out to check and saw a message from Mam.
Merry Christmas, Evelyn. Xxx
She sent the same text each year, and each year I didn’t respond. It was petty and maybe a little selfish, I knew, but it wasn’t as selfish as abandoning your own daughter when she was just fourteen years old. For some reason though, this year I felt different. We were never going to be close, but maybe I didn’t need to punish her anymore. I was finding happiness in my life now, and perhaps sending Mam a simple response would help her find happiness in hers. I typed out a simple, yet meaningful reply.
Merry Christmas, Mam.
After we finished eating, we exchanged gifts. Yvonne had gotten me a red leather Guess handbag, which I just adored, and she loved her Gucci perfume set. I bought Conor a tie and Dylan a set of engraved cufflinks. I was nervous when he opened the box, hoping he liked them. It was just so hard to think of a gift. I mean, what do you buy the man who has everything?
His eyes crinkled at the edges when he saw them. We sat next to each other and I bit my lip. “Do you like them?”
He reached out and clasped my neck, surprising me when he pulled my mouth to his for quick, chaste kiss. “I love them. Thank you,” he whispered.
After that I sat back and watched as everybody opened their presents, filled with a sense of belonging. It was the first time in a long time that I’d felt at peace. Like my life was going somewhere good.
Quietly, while everyone else was distracted, Dylan took my hand and led me out into the study across the hall. He closed the door and went to grab something from a drawer by the desk.
He came back with a small wrapped box and held it out to me. I took it and sat on the leather armchair in the corner. Something about this gift felt important. Dylan’s eyes were full of anticipation as he watched me pull away the wrapping. Inside was a little black velvet box. I opened it up and found a pretty white gold necklace. The pendant was a circle of glass, and pressed inside the glass was a tiny dried jasmine flower.
“It beautiful,” I breathed, hands shaking as I tried to undo the clasp.
Dylan knelt before me and took it from my hands. Carefully, he unclasped the latch and brought it around my neck.
“I kept this flower from when were teenagers,” he said and my breath caught. I thought it was just an ordinary jasmine flower, chosen perhaps because they used to be my favourite, but it wasn’t. It was special.
“Seriously?” I asked, peering down in awe. The glass pendent rested in the centre of my chest, its cool surface grazing my skin.
“I took it from the ones I picked to make my perfume when we were at school, then I put it inside some crepe paper for safekeeping. I had the pendant made at a jewellery store here in New York.”
Tears sprung in my eyes. The gift was just so thoughtful, and I couldn’t believe he’d kept this one flower all this time. It obviously meant something to him. And now he was giving it to me.
“I don’t know what to say.”
I only realised I was crying when Dylan reached out to wipe a tear from my cheek. “You don’t have to say anything. Your reaction is all I need.”
I studied the pendant again, taking it in my fingers and turning it over. I hadn’t even noticed the engraving on the back. It read, For Evelyn, my one true love, my muse. Yours always, Dylan.
I inhaled sharply, unable to stop the onslaught of tears now. They ran freely down my face. Dylan made soothing noises.
“Don’t cry. I gave you this to make you happy,” he said, taking my face in his hands.
I blinked away some of the tears and looked at him. “I am happy. It’s just . . . you’re so perfect. I don’t deserve you.”
He gave a tender laugh. “First of all, that’s not true. And second of all, that’s too bad, because I’m irrevocably, hopelessly in love with you.”
Before I could even digest his statement, he caught my lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He kissed me like it had to last him a lifetime. He kissed me like I was oxygen and he was gasping for breath.
I shifted forward, opening my legs so he could settle between my thighs, then wrapped my arms around his neck. He groaned, lost to our kiss, and pushed me back into the chair. He pulled my legs around his hips and held himself above me.
I moaned when I felt him harden, his thick erection pressing between my legs. He lowered his mouth to my neck, kissing my sensitive skin before he grazed his lips over the tops of my breasts. I sighed in pleasure and a base needfulness came over me. It had been weeks since I’d had him like this, and I couldn’t get enough. I needed all of him, needed to touch him everywhere and have him touch me.
He hissed sharply when I reached for his belt buckle. “Careful, Ev.”
“I need you,” I breathed, nibbling on his lips as I stared into his eyes. “I love you, and I need you, Dylan. I feel like I’ve needed you forever.”
His gaze burned hot. I swore the dark blue of his irises flashed black for a second when I said those words. “You love me?” he whispered.
“Yes,” I answered. “I love you, Dylan O’Dea. I always have.”
There was no stopping him then. He lifted my dress over my head, pulled down my tights and did away with my bra. I was left in nothing but my knickers, and he was still fully dressed. I glanced briefly at the unlocked door, hoping nobody decided to come find us. If they did, well, they were in for quite a shock.
I reached again for his buckle and this time he let me. A moment later his pants were pushed down over his hips and his cock was free. I pulled my knickers off and guided him into me. We both gasped at the sensation of being skin to skin. When he moved his hips, I moaned and bit down on his shoulder to keep quiet.
He caught my mouth and slid his tongue along mine, at the same time as he thrust inside me deeply. His eyes were open while he kissed me, taking in my every reaction. I grew so, so wet and his masculine sounds enveloped the room. He pulled away and gently clasped his hand around my neck. It was a possessive move, and every part of me pulsated with pleasure.
He drove us to dizzying heights, and when he saw on I was on the edge, he reached down between our bodies and brought me to orgasm with his fingers. I came while he was still inside me. He immediately bent and kissed my breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth and then the other. He lapped at me until I was ready to come all over again.
A deep, raspy groan escaped him, and I knew he was almost there. I made sure I was looking deep into his eyes when he came with a shuddering expletive. He pulled out and pressed his lips to my mouth, my jaw and neck. He peppered my entire body with kisses until there wasn’t an inch left untouched.
Dylan folded me in hi
s arms, draped his shirt over our naked bodies and held me until we both fell asleep. I woke a little while later, warm from his arms around me but still chilly in the cold study. Dylan stirred, palming my breast and dipping his mouth to nibble on my ear.
“Let’s go upstairs.”
I batted his hand away. “We can’t. Everybody’s probably wondering where we’ve been.”
“Let them wonder. Your mine now.”
I let those words sink in. You’re mine now.
It was true. I was his, and he was mine. When he started kissing me again, I knew it was time to get dressed, otherwise we were in danger of spending the rest of the evening in here, and probably the night, too. Only a small portion of my brain insisted that wasn’t a good idea.
I swiped his hand away when he playfully pinched my hip, while I tried to put my clothes back on. I finally managed to get dressed and took a peek at myself in the small mirror on the wall, making sure I didn’t look too dishevelled.
Dylan took my hand in his and I tried to ignore those pesky butterflies he always managed to solicit. I’d be ninety and still feeling belly flutters when he looked at me.
He led me back out into the living room, where Yvonne and Conor sat on the couch watching TV. They sat just a little distance apart and it made me wonder if maybe they’d grown closer over the last day and a half. There was something between them now, something new, but I couldn’t quiet put my finger on it.
Tommy was napping on the armchair, while Bridget and Bethany played a game of Scrabble. I thought Conor’s parents must’ve gone downstairs for a rest.
Conor glanced from me to Dylan and then to our clasped hands. He let out a loud, “Well, it’s about time.” And we both laughed at his enthusiasm. Yvonne smiled in that fond way she did, coming to give me a small hug.
“I’m so happy for you,” she whispered in my ear, and it meant a lot to hear her say that. She was the only family I had left worth caring about.
We spent the rest of the evening playing board games, drinking wine and eating mince pies. When it was time for bed, I didn’t give a single protest as Dylan led me to his room, laid me down, and made love to me until my body ached in the most wonderful way.
Best. Christmas. Ever.
Chapter 17
“Marry me.”
“Shut up.”
“Ev, I’m being serious.”
“No, you’re not.”
Dylan flipped us so he was on top, the sheets tangled between us. It was early morning, the day after Christmas, and we’d hardly gotten a wink of sleep. I was fairly sure we woke half the house during the night, in spite of our efforts to stay quiet.
“You’re overtired and not thinking clearly. Give it a few hours,” I said, pulse thrumming.
On the inside, I felt manic, because there was a small part of me—okay, a big part—that wanted him to be serious. I was head over heels in love with him and his proposal made me feel a little crazy.
Like I might do something spontaneous.
Like actually say yes.
He looked deep into my eyes, cupped my cheeks and spoke with a quiet passion that sent my nerve endings tingling.
“I’ve spent so many years without you. I missed you every single day. I don’t want to spend a single second longer without you. Please, Ev, be my wife.”
My throat ran dry as I swallowed, emotion catching right in my epiglottis. “Okay,” I whispered.
He stared at me like he couldn’t believe he heard me right. “Okay?”
I smiled so wide my face hurt. “Okay, Dylan. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Yes? Did you just say yes?” He looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. I nodded and smiled so wide my face hurt. “I’m going to make you the happiest woman in the world,” he declared. “I promise.”
“You better,” I said, still smiling as I pulled his mouth to mine for a kiss.
The next thing I knew he was pulling me out of bed. “Now let’s go buy you a dress.”
“I have lots of time to find a wedding dress, Dylan—”
“Not if we get married today, you don’t.”
I grabbed him by the shoulder. “Hold up. Today?”
“Yes. We can go to City Hall and—”
“Dylan, we’re not getting married today. It’s the day after Christmas. They’re probably not even open. Plus, I’m pretty sure you can’t get a marriage licence that quickly so . . .” I paused, saddened by the disappointment in his eyes. He really wanted to do this. Did I? Was it too soon or had we spent months preparing for this moment? Or was that years? He had become my best friend and when I thought about it, I didn’t want to spend another day without him either. Even before last night, I’d felt somewhat bereft as I’d lain in bed night after night. And that was when it clicked, when I realised I wanted to marry him today, too.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Come on. It’ll be spontaneous and wonderful and romantic. Our family is already here surrounding us. Marry me today, Ev. You’ll break my heart if you say no.”
I let out a long breath, but something deep inside told me this was the right decision. It was true when Dylan said we’d lost too many years, and I wasn’t willing to lose another second.
“All right,” I said and smiled. “Let’s go buy a wedding dress.”
* * *
My dress wasn’t white, but pale pink. We found it in a small independent boutique not far from Dylan’s house and I fell in love. I knew as soon as I saw it that it was the one. It was sleeveless, with a sweetheart neckline—perfect for the necklace Dylan gave me—and calf-length skirt. I adored its uniqueness and how it wasn’t your typical white gown.
We didn’t have time to buy rings, so instead improvised with one Gran left me in her will, and another Yvonne had at the apartment that supposedly belonged to Granddad. He died before I was born, so I had no memories of him. I only knew what he looked like from old photographs.
Dylan promised we’d go shopping for proper rings as soon as we got the chance. Yvonne thought we were being rash and impulsive, but the romantic in her couldn’t help getting caught in the whirlwind. Dylan’s dad welled up when we told him the news, and he was just happy he’d be there to see the ceremony.
“I always hoped you two would find each other again,” he said and wiped a tear from under his eye.
Our wedding party consisted of Yvonne, Conor, Conor’s parents, Bethany, Tommy and Bridget. I did my own hair and make-up, and Yvonne loaned me her nude Louboutin’s to wear with my dress.
“I promise not to scuff them,” I said when she handed them over. She was looking a little misty eyed when she took in the sight of me all gussied up.
“No, keep them. Consider them a wedding gift.”
“But, Yvonne, I couldn’t possibly—”
She held up a hand. “Don’t bother protesting. They’re yours now.”
I decided to give her the honour of being our official witness. After we applied for our marriage licence, we hustled across the street from City Hall to get a waiver from the judge. This was so we didn’t have to wait twenty-fours before getting married.
The ceremony took less than two minutes.
The whole thing was insane, but I had no regrets. I was on cloud nine, no intention of ever coming back down. It was moments like these that I really felt like Sam was watching, grumping about not being able to take part in the excitement and spontaneity.
“Evelyn O’Dea, I like the sound of that,” Dylan purred as we slow-danced in some random bar on the lower east side.
Yvonne and Conor were cosying it up at a table, deep in conversation, while everyone else enjoyed bar food and drinks. It was completely unconventional and that’s why it felt so perfect.
“Me, too,” I said, catching his lips in a quick kiss.
“If someone told me I’d be married to you before the year was through, I never would’ve believed them.”
“You’ve got to believe in the power of the universe,” I said. �
�It pulled us back together.” Damn, I was on such a high I almost sounded like my teenage self.
He ran a hand down my hair and gazed at me with such love. “Better thank the universe then.”
“Yep,” I whispered just as a loud pop sounded from behind us. Conor and Yvonne had ordered several bottles of champagne. Dylan chuckled and took my hand to lead me over. My aunt was in fine form, pouring glasses for everyone.
“Here you go, Ev,” she said and handed one to me. “Happy wedding day.”
“To Dylan and Evelyn. May they have many years of happiness and romantic bliss ahead of them,” Conor declared, lifting his glass.
“Here, here,” everyone agreed and we all took a drink.
I didn’t remember much after that, only that a lot of alcohol was consumed, and much dancing and merriment was had. The next morning, I woke in Dylan’s bed, completely naked, our bodies entwined.
We called in sick to work.
We made love all day and through the next night.
We ordered pizza. Lots of pizza. It was the best honeymoon a girl could ask for.
When the following morning arrived, we sadly said goodbye to our mini-vacation.
I lay on top of Dylan, drawing circles on his chest with my finger. “I still can’t believe we just decided to get hitched like a pair of whack jobs.”
“Not like pair of whack jobs, like a pair of geniuses,” he corrected.
My smile transformed into a grin. “Oh, is that what we are?”
“Yes,” he said and rolled me over. “Now go get dressed. We have rings to shop for.”
Less than an hour later, I stood in the middle of a jewellery shop on Fifth Avenue, an array of diamonds before me. It was surreal to say the least.
“This is weird. A lady shouldn’t have to shop for her own engagement ring. And certainly not after the fact of getting married,” I said, playful and trying to annoy Dylan.
The rings viewed so far had prices in the five-figure category. I was trying to finagle him down to four.
