“I got that for you,” Jeremy says.
His hands fall on my shoulders as my fingertips glide along the carvings on the sides of the bureau. I turn to him with questioning eyes.
“I wanted you to have a workspace here,” he explains. “So you’ll always feel at home with me.”
“Thank you. It’s so… I’ve never seen such a beautiful desk. I really just need a table,” I tell him with a smile.
“Now you tell me,” he says, with a laugh. “Well, it’s too late. I’ve fallen in love with it and I don’t want to part with it. So I guess I’m stuck.”
I know I’m trembling, but I can’t stop. He pulls me close to him and kisses my neck.
“I need you,” he whispers. “I want to christen my new house.”
Wide-eyed, I open my mouth, ready to beg him to take me to his bedroom, when he smiles.
“Have a toast with me. There’s Champagne on ice in the living room.”
Exhaling an awkward giggle, I nod.
“That… uh, that sounds lovely.”
The living room is every bit as perfect as the library. Rich fabrics and soothing textures fill the space. A large fireplace roars in the center of the room as Jeremy uncorks the Champagne. I take the glass he offers me, eager for something to calm my fluttering nerves.
“To a new beginning for all of us,” he says.
“May you have every happiness in your new home, Jeremy,” I add.
The ping of clinking glasses slices through the thick tension in the room. The cold fizzy wine prickles my tongue as our eyes lock.
“I think I could be happy here, Sylvie,” he says, stepping closer. “I think that we could all be happy here. Me and you and our son.”
My eyes well at the longing in his voice.
“I could build a treehouse in the back, with swings,”
He steps closer and my whole body freezes.
“We could plant a garden and watch it grow together.”
He takes my flute and places it on the table beside us.
“This could be your home too, Sylvie. We used to talk about raising a family together, doing everything differently from the way we grew up. We used to talk about filling a house with warmth. We used to say that it didn’t matter where it was because you were my home and I was yours. Let me be your home again, sweetheart. Because you never stopped being mine.”
He reaches for my mouth and I close my eyes to enjoy the feel of his lips falling on mine. It’s sweetness and tenderness and feverish desire all in one beautiful kiss.
It’s been years since I felt his hands slide down my body. When he grips my ass a chill shoots up my spine and I let it all flood back in: every touch I’d forced myself to forget, every kiss I’d tucked away into the recesses of my mind, months of making love and loving all rush at me and I swell, filled with the awakening magic between us.
I rip my mouth from his and clasp his shoulders. Looking past the sparkle of his beautiful eyes, I reach for his heart.
“Jeremy, I love you,” I tell him.
He smiles. His head tilts and a chuckle escapes.
“Sweetheart, I want so much more than your love. I want to get so deep inside you that you can’t survive without me. I want to be your every breath and every heartbeat. Because that’s what you are to me, that’s how deeply you inhabit me.”
He kisses me again as his hard warm body crashes into mine. I kiss back. My hands twist into his dark hair. The whole room starts to shake and I wonder if it’s an earthquake but he holds me tighter, steadying my tremors, and I know that it was just me.
I lean into him as he grips the back of my head. I grab at his back and my hands enjoy his strong shoulders as he squeezes my ass. There is no moonlight between us, but somehow I can’t get close enough. The memory of his warm skin gnaws at me. The hints of his hard, rippled muscles through his clothing drive me past any thoughts of modesty. The layers between us grow more thick and cumbersome with each passing second.
My hands take on a life of their own, pushing off his jacket and ripping away his tie. I fumble with his belt buckle and part of me wishes for his help, but his hands are occupied, unzipping my dress and shoving it down my hips.
“Fuck it,” he growls, tearing the delicate fabric from my body and leaving me in my strapless bra and flirty G-string.
I pause, startled by his savagery, and he grins at me. In an effortless motion he removes his belt and unbuttons the top button of his shirt.
“You’re more beautiful now, you know that?” he says.
His eyes rake over my form as I watch him slowly slip the second button from its catch. Dark hairs peek out from the ‘V’ of his dress shirt.
“You were a gorgeous girl five years ago…”
The next button releases and the way his pecks bulge forces my swallow.
“…but you have no idea what your curves are doing to me right now.”
Three more buttons open his shirt fully and I want to lick the ridges of muscles that narrow into his hips. When I follow those taut lines downward, the bulge in his pants makes me exhale sharply.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”
Scorching embarrassment rises with my gaze. He’s grinning at me, teasing me. I smile back. Two can play at this game.
I lick the corner of my mouth with the tip of my tongue as I hook my thumbs into the narrow band at my hips. He draws a shaky breath as I step closer. He rubs his mouth as I stand just close enough for my hard nipples to graze his chest.
We eye each other like teenagers, eager but waiting to see who will make the first move. His eyes move over my mouth, then fall lower to watch my breasts rise and fall with my heavy breaths. He shifts his hips as the hardness in his pants strains and pulls the fabric uncomfortably taut.
He moves his hand between us and a thrill shoots through me in anticipation of his touch, but he doesn’t touch me. He undoes his pants, shoves down his boxer briefs, and kicks them both behind us. The tip of his hard cock pokes at my hip and he raises an eyebrow. His shirt has somehow managed to stay crisp despite the thick heat saturating the room. It hangs from his shoulders and I want to slide it off and kiss every inch of his chiseled arms.
Instead I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra. My breasts spill out as I discard it on the floor with my shredded dress. His gaze darts between my breasts and my eyes.
“Where are your eyes now, lover?” I tease.
The corner of his mouth twitches up and then he pounces like a lion. His hands are everywhere, his mouth explores my body possessively. I manage to slip his shirt off his shoulders, but his arms are tight around me and his hands are too busy pawing at my flesh for me to get it the rest of the way off. My mouth finds his deltoids eagerly and I suck on his warm skin. I want to mark him.
He groans and yanks back my hair. His mouth finds my breast and devours with hunger, licking and sucking. His fingers find my soaking pussy and enter me, unapologetically. I whimper as he plays my body like an instrument. I moan as he takes me higher. I scream when his thumb swirls over my hard nub. I come apart as his mouth finds mine again. He continues to spear me with his hand and my orgasm rages in bright flashes of light and sounds. His grunts, my cries. His tongue, my teeth.
Dangling over the cliff of my second orgasm. I grip the arm of the sofa over my head. I don’t know when Jeremy had laid me out there, but I feel every millimeter of his skin as he slides over me and his hungry cock pushes in.
He feeds his throbbing length into my sex one sweet inch at a time until his hips are locked between mine. I moan as his broad swollen flesh stretches me.
“Hold on to me, sweetheart,” he rasps. “I want to feel your hands on me.”
I slip my hands under the shirt that still covers his arms and meet his gaze. His eyes are hooded and dilated. He draws each heated breath through his thick parted lips. I reach for them, wrapping both of mine around his bottom lip as he slides out and shoves in again
in one feral thrust.
“Fuck,” I call out, as my finger nails dig into his shoulders.
“You’re, so, fucking, tight,” he grunts as he begins to move inside me. “So, fucking, wet. Fuck! You feel so good.”
I cling to him as he fucks me, I whimper as he loves in and out of my body. I groan as I approach closer and closer to my release.
“God, how I missed your sweet. Slick. Pussy.”
He drills me harder with each punctuated word and I fall, spiraling into bliss, savoring the ripples of pleasure that course under my skin. He roars, jerking and crushing me to him as he pumps his climax into my sex.
When my eyes flicker open, he’s watching me. His hands caress my face and his eyes dance with so many emotions. I see happiness there, and satisfaction; tenderness, care, longing, and love all play in the greens and gold and blues that radiate from the black centers.
“Don’t ever leave me again,” I whisper.
He smiles and his hands continue to smooth over my skin.
“Promise,” I urge him.
He grins.
“Sweetheart, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of me if you tried.”
I smile back and he kisses down my midline to stroke my pussy with his tongue. My eyes roll back as he feeds. Delight washes over me and my cries of pleasure echo in Jeremy’s new house.
* * *
Hours later, I rest my head on his chest and listen to the sound of his heart beating. The steady rhythm keeps me tethered in the moment. The rise and fall of his chest lets me savor the innocent now. After the first couple of times in the living room, we’d made our way upstairs, pressing against the molded wooden panels of the hallway to touch and taste each others’ bodies. As we pawed each other, our bodies zig-zagging eagerly toward our destination—first my back on the wall, then his, then mine again. Somehow, we made it to the master bedroom where Jeremy had given me a vigorous tour of his bed.
Lying together, in the naked afterglow of our rekindled magic, I breathe more easily than I have in years.
“Stay with me?” he asks.
“Sure. I told Phoebe I’d pick Levi up in the morning, but they won’t be up until eight or so. I want to stop at the bakery on my way and bring muffins and bagels…”
“No, sweetheart,” he says, rolling me onto my back and hovering over me. “I want you to stay with me forever.”
He reaches over me and pulls a very familiar box from his nightstand drawer. I smile as he pulls out the champagne sapphire ring. When he takes my hand, I don’t resist. The rare stone slides onto my ring finger like it was made for me. I giggle, remembering that it was. Jeremy kisses it and then his lips press the back of my hand.
“I want you to let me be your husband,” he says. His darkened eyes reveal only a narrow ring of green and gold around the black center. He speaks again and I sink deeper into the sound of his voice.
“I want you to let me make us a family. Let me love you, Sylvie. Let me love you for the rest of your life.”
Those eyes dance in the dim lights as he waits for my answer. His black hair falls between his eyes. I reach up to trace the lines of his handsome face. He’s always been so beautiful, but in the afterglow of everything we’ve been through together, he radiates.
Cupping his jaw, I lift my lips to his and kiss him.
“Yes, Jeremy.”
The grin that transforms his face is spectacular. My heart swells with delight at having provoked such a thrilling response.
“I love you,” I tell him. “I never stopped.”
“You never will,” he says, with a chuckle. “I won’t ever let you. I’ll earn your love every day.”
He kisses me again and as his hips sink between my thighs, there is nothing but joy in my heart.
Chapter Forty-five
Six months later
“So what made you change your mind?” Phoebe asks, clinking her champagne flute to mine.
“We’re here to support Sylvie and help her get dressed, not to interrogate her,” Immy reminds Phoebe as she re-pins an orchid blossom that had fallen loose from its place in my hair.
“Well if we don’t ask now, when can we ask?” teases Blythe while she fluffs the rows of peachy silk flowers sewn along the length of my dress straps.
“Time,” I answer as I admire the beadwork on my dress. “I just needed time.”
Turning away from the mirror, I look to my friends.
“I was hurt and confused, and I needed to find my footing before I could make any decisions about the future.”
“And now you’re sure,” replies Phoebe, wiping a tear from her eye.
I turn back to my reflection. The glowing woman in the intricate blush wedding gown smiles at me. She looks happy and confident, ready for the next part of her life.
“Now I’m ready to be happy,” I answer and my reflection’s eyes sparkle in agreement.
The wedding coordinator pokes her head in the door. Her short black hair doesn’t move when she looks around the room. She wanted to shellac mine down as well, but I convinced her I wanted to keep things as natural as possible.
“It’s time, ladies,” she says opening the door wide.
* * *
Walking down the long esplanade to the cliffside pergola, I see my future in the distance. Everyone I love is there, waiting for me as I walk the short journey alone. Jeremy and I had rented out the Bora Bora Nuit resort and flown in our close friends and family for the ceremony. We erected a small structure that looks over the beach just above the resort. Allison and Charles had offered to escort me and my friends had been more than willing to don matching dresses and hold my bouquet, but I wanted something simpler.
As I draw closer, the wedding party blossoms from a tiny speck and distant music to a magnificent gathering: a bower of tropical flowers and elegant garlands draping from silk wrapped pillars at the corners of the wedding, a dozen rows of guests wearing their finest, an oboe and viola duet playing beside the altar.
Jeremy waits with Levi standing beside him. Their matching smiles greet me as I approach. The music swells and the witnesses rise to their feet. Levi runs to me and hugs my legs. We walk the last few feet together. When I arrive beside him, Jeremy takes my hand to help me step onto the platform.
“You ready for this, sweetheart?” he whispers.
The joy in his face broadens my smile.
“I’m so ready.”
I wink at him and he bites his lip. We turn to the officiant together and join hands. Bound. Together. Forever.
EPILOGUE
Five years later
Gripping the handle bars and leaning into the curve, I enjoy the way she clings to me as we ride through the sleepy suburban streets. Her body molds to mine and moves with me as I navigate my bike. I look forward to our Saturday morning ride all week. I can ride by myself anytime, but Saturday morning, when Allison and Charles have breakfast with the children, is the only time that Sylvie will come with me.
We pull into our driveway and I linger in the way she holds me. Eventually she swings her leg over the back of the bike and I dismount behind her. When she takes off her helmet, her short curls tumble out, tussled and slightly sweaty. I love it when her hair looks that way, but the smile she wears is the best part.
“That last curve always makes my heart jump!” she giggles.
“You worried about falling?”
“No. Never. I trust you. But there’s always that moment when I know that if the bike spun out or I wasn’t able to hold on…”
She shakes her head instead of finishing, but the smile doesn’t fade. I step closer and tip her chin up with my fingers.
“You love it,” I whisper. “You love the thrill, the rush.”
She nods and wraps her arms around my neck.
“I love it because I’m holding on to you, because I know I’m safe.”
She twists the hair at my nape around her finger and I feel that famili
ar ache.
“Five years of marriage and you still make my heart race,” she adds.
Her lips reach for mine. When we connect, I squeeze her tighter.
“I don’t need the bike for that, sweetheart,” I murmur in her ear.
I nibble on her lobe and then kiss down her neck. When she moans softly, I find her lips again. Everything is there in that kiss. She loves me. She trusts me. She wants me. I grind my rapidly hardening length against her hip and she grips my arms.
“Daddy! Mommy!”
The voice of our little boy shifts the mood.
“Later!” I growl in her ear.
She winks at me before we turn to the front door. Four-year-old Julian barrels down the steps and throws himself at us. I catch him, lifting him into the air as he giggles with glee.
Levi follows him more calmly, too cool at the age of nine to show much excitement at seeing his parents. Allison and Charles stand in the doorway holding baby Violet, who reaches for Sylvie as soon as she sees her.
“Mama! Mama!” our sweet little girl calls as her chubby hands grab for her mother.
“They were angels,” says Allison. “Thank you so much for letting us stay with them tonight so you two can have a proper night out.”
“No, thank you!” says Sylvie, giving Allison and then Charles each a warm hug. “I’d be so nervous if we were leaving them with a sitter, Levi and Julian will be fine but I’ve never been away from Violet all night before.”
I bite back a laugh when Sylvie looks at Violet and gnaws her lip nervously. After a third child most mothers would be desperate for a night away, but my Sylvie doesn’t like to be too far away from her little ones.
Allison doesn’t bother suppressing her laughter. Charles hands her her bag and they head to their car.
“We’ll be back around five. Don’t worry Sylvie, Violet will do fine.”
Charles pauses with laughter in his eyes and leans toward me with a lowered voice.
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