I tried desperately to get his pants unbuttoned, but the bulge straining against the zipper made it difficult; I huffed impatiently. Once the button came undone I carefully freed him and wrapped my hand around the thickness of his cock, stroking him long and hard. He jerked in my hand and moaned above me.
“Damn, I love your hands and the way you touch me. Your grip is so tight, just the way your sex is when I make love to you.”
My eyes rolled in the back of my head as his tongue licked my aching nipples and his fingers slowly delved into my underwear and grazed over my clit. He tested my wetness and I knew he was satisfied by the growl rumbling in his chest.
“I see you’re ready for me, baby.”
“Always,” I replied softly.
With hooded eyes, I gazed over his hard, muscled body with satisfaction. His arms flexed as my eyes trailed over them, and then I couldn’t help but lower my stare to the one part of his body that instantly made my core slick and throb with the need to be touched.
Once my pants were gone, Brett slowly lowered himself on top of me and entered me as deep as he could go. My sex instantly clenched tight and he stopped momentarily to take a deep breath. “Why do you always make it hard on me?” he teased.
“I can’t help it. It feels too good when you’re inside me.”
Taking my face in his hands, he kept his gaze on me the entire time we made love. He kissed me over and over again, while riding me slow and rocking his hips against my tender spot. I could tell he was getting close to the edge, but he always kept it off until I was on the verge of mine. It was one of the things I loved about him when it came to making love. He always put my needs first above his own.
His thrusts grew deeper and he pounded harder while holding my face in between his hands, watching me as I screamed out my orgasm. Growling, he bit my lip and sucked it as he came inside me, all hot and thick. Breathing hard, he kissed my lips and slowly lifted up on his elbows, still hard and pulsating inside me. It always drove me crazy when he would stay inside me without pulling out; it made the tremors from the orgasm vibrate more violently and I loved it.
“We need to talk about something,” he began, gazing down at me seriously. “It’s something important.”
“What is it?” I asked, furrowing my brow. “Is something wrong?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No baby, everything’s right. I wanted to talk to you about our future. I want to know what you want out of life and what you want to do. You quit your job as a teacher, and now you’re free to do what you want, anywhere you want. In your heart, where do you feel like you belong?”
Lifting my hand, I caressed his cheek. “I belong with you, Brett. Wherever you are is where I belong.”
“Do you mean that?” he asked, searching my gaze for the truth.
I smiled and leaned up to kiss his lips. “With all my heart.”
Biting his lip, he grinned mischievously at me. “Well, with that being said I need you to do something for me.”
“Is it my turn to make love to you this time or something?” I asked teasingly, moving my hips against his still hard cock in between my legs.
He chuckled and shook his head, pointing to a specific spot on our Christmas tree. “No, but I do want you to look over at the tree.”
Breaking away from his gaze, I glanced in the direction he was pointing. I searched for a clue but found nothing. “What am I supposed to be looking at exactly? I see ornaments, Brett.”
“Look closer,” he demanded warmly.
“Look closer,” I repeated his words out loud. “Okay, I’m looking closer.”
The presents underneath were the same, they were all from me to him so nothing odd was going on there. He was staring at the tree so I tried my best to look at the exact spot he was looking at. Slowly, I searched each branch and each ornament until something sparkled and immediately caught my attention. My favorite ornament was a crystal ballerina that always glittered against the twinkling lights of the tree. I could stare at it for hours if time allowed it. It was my most precious ornament as a little girl and my mom made sure to give it to me when I moved out. But it wasn’t just the ornament I was staring at … it was the shiny, emerald cut diamond ring that glistened on the arm of my crystal ballerina.
I gasped and covered a hand over my mouth. “Brett, is that what I think it is?” I asked, completely in a state of shock.
He chuckled and fetched the platinum band off the ornament. Taking my shaky hand, he slipped it down my finger and released a nervous breath. “Yes, it’s what you think it is,” he said, gazing into my tear-filled eyes with such longing. “When you say you belong wherever I am well that’s the way I feel about you. Wherever you go I will follow. I love you more than life itself, more than the breath I take in every day. You are my forever, Melissa, and it doesn’t have to be right now or next year. Hell, we can wait five years if that’s what you want, but know this … I want to be with you until my heart stops beating and I take that last and final breath. I want to take care of you and watch your belly swell with the children we make with our love. You are and will always be the fire that burns in my soul that keeps me going. You are the reason I live, Melissa.”
Eyes glistening, he leaned over and kissed me tenderly on the lips. “I want you to be my wife, firecracker. I want to hear you say you’ll love me for the rest of your life just as I will love you for mine.”
“Yes,” I answered from my heart. “I’ll be your wife, Brett, for now and always I will forever be yours.”
Wrapping his arms around me, he held me tight and descended on my lips, claiming me for his own. When he pulled back from the kiss, I wasn’t expecting the next words to come out of his mouth. In all seriousness, he gazed into my eyes, and uttered, “I hope you know I meant it when I said I will follow you anywhere.” He stopped for a second while a devilish grin spread across his face. He continued, “… even if that means we move to California. I’ve heard you talking to Claire, baby. I could hear it in your voice how much you want to go out there and help her with the vineyards. And now that your house has sold there’s nothing keeping you here.”
“Except you, Brett. You’re here and that’s where I belong just like I told you.”
Brushing a stray hair off of my face, Brett smirked and bit his lip. “What if I told you I would go out to California with you? What would you say then?”
“Is it even possible?” I asked, wide-eyed. “What about your job?”
He smiled and winked. “Let’s just say I got promoted. I’ve been given the opportunity to partner with M&M and have my own branch on the West Coast. I figured it would be a good starting out place for us. You could work with Claire like I know you want to and I wouldn’t have to travel so far all the time with me already being on the West Coast. But it’s completely up to you, Melissa. Say the word and we’ll go. I’m ready to take the next step when you are.”
I gazed at Brett in awe and wonder. Who would’ve thought that a one night stand would turn out to be the second chance I longed for. I feared I had lost him when Daniel took me away, but now I didn’t have to worry about him or anything else standing in our way.
Completely confident in my decision, it didn’t take me long to make up my mind. “I’m ready, Brett. Let’s take the next step … together.”
And that’s just what we did.
Epilogue
Ten Months Later
After Brett proposed to me, we spent another two months in North Carolina to get all of our affairs handled before the big move. When we moved, Brett had managed dozens of accounts on his own on the West Coast before it became too much and he needed to hire several people to help him. M&M Architectural Building and Design had flourished in the past year, leaving Brett with a partnership and his own thriving branch on the other half of the United States.
The Tuscan villa I inherited from Daniel’s mother was a place she found peace and solitude in when life got in the way for her. Claire kept everything insid
e it just the way her mother left it and I was honored to not change a thing about it.
However, there were changes today. The whole place was adorned with bouquets of flowers, decorations, and everyone from my life that I cared about … including my parents, Brett’s grandmother, and Mason. Everyone was outside waiting patiently for me to make my entrance.
I picked out a white, strapless wedding dress that hugged my waist and flowed gracefully down to the ground. Crystals were threaded around the bust and they glittered like diamonds when I turned circles in the light. It reminded me of my ballerina ornament and how my ring twinkled around it on our Christmas tree on that fateful night many months ago.
Through the window, the whole scene was gorgeous. Korinne had put her designing skills to good use and became my wedding planner for the whole occasion as well as one of my bridesmaids. Claire was my maid of honor and both of them looked amazing in their red gowns. Tears pooled in my eyes when I saw the hard work she put into my special day.
“Hey, none of that,” Mason demanded, passing me a tissue. “I don’t handle tears very well.”
He clasped my arm and steered me toward the patio door that led to all of our guests and my awaiting husband. I had chosen Mason to walk me down the aisle on my special day. He deserved the honor more than anything and I wanted him to know that.
Taking the tissue, I dabbed under my eyes and sniffled. “Do I look okay?” I asked, turning to him.
Leaning down, Mason smiled and took me by the shoulders. “You look beautiful,” he uttered wholeheartedly. “But if we don’t go Brett’s going to come looking for you.”
We both laughed. “That’s true,” I agreed. Taking a deep breath, I nodded toward the door. “Lead me out there, Mason.”
Opening the door, he escorted me down the path to where Brett was standing, all handsome in his black tuxedo and spiky brown hair, his gray eyes only focused on me. No one else existed in that moment but me and him. Time stood still as Mason passed me off to Brett and we stood there staring at each other, his warm hands clasping mine. His smile made my heart flutter like the first night I met him; the night that changed our paths.
“Are you ready for this?” he whispered to me as the preacher began the ceremony. “I may not always be perfect, but I will love you and cherish you for the rest of my life. You can trust me on that.”
Gazing up into his smoky gray eyes, I could see and feel the love and honesty coming from his words and in the look in his gaze. Moving closer, I whispered back, “And I you. I love you, Brett … always.”
I trust you …
Better
A NOVEL
by
Carey Heywood
Chapter 1
“Aubrey, that can’t be comfortable.”
I blink open my eyes and lift my head, wincing as my neck protests the movement. “Nope, I’m good,” I lie. “You know me. I can sleep anywhere.”
I stand, unfolding myself from the armchair in my aunt’s room, our old guest room. Discreetly, I stretch as best I can. “How are you? Can I get you something to drink?” Halfheartedly, I add, “Eat?”
Ally, my aunt, gives me a weak smile. “I’m okay.”
“Maybe just some water?” I encourage.
Her appetite, or lack thereof, has been a daily topic of concern over the dinner table. My mom is ignoring it completely. She just shakes her head at my dad and me every time we bring it up. I don’t blame her. Ally is her little sister. My mom hasn’t given up hope yet that Ally will get better.
I try not to think about it. I feel emotionally wrecked from having my hopes dashed over and over again. Ally just started a new clinical trial that my parents fought so hard to get her into. We all thought that this would be it, her cure. In my opinion, she’s sicker now than before she started these new pills. At least before, she would eat.
Ally tilts her head at me. “Maybe later, jelly bean.”
I lean over and kiss her forehead, and she slowly lifts her hand to pat my cheek. I feel like crying, but I don’t want her to see it, so I mumble something about needing to go downstairs. I pause in the doorway and look back at her.
Six years ago my aunt was diagnosed with leiomyosarcoma. I was seventeen, and I had just gotten accepted to my dream school, Yale. After we found out how sick my aunt was, I opted to stay home and go to the local community college instead. That way, I could help my mom and dad take care of my aunt.
She moved in with us, taking over the guest bedroom. She had just turned forty when she was diagnosed. She didn’t look it. I used to raid her closet all the time. She was beautiful and full of this pull that made everyone around her gravitate toward her. It’s hard to even recognize her now.
Other than going to see Dr. Julian and using the portable toilet, she stays in bed. Depending on what treatment she’s on, she has been both skin and bones to so bloated it looked like she was swelling from an allergic reaction to something.
She notices that I’m lingering in the doorway, so I smile and hurry downstairs.
Once I’m in the kitchen, I pause. Am I even hungry? Or am I just getting a snack because I don’t know what else to do right now? I look at the clock. We’ll be eating in an hour. I grab a bottle of water and walk into the living room. My dad is at his makeshift desk, mumbling to himself, as he works on his computer. I tilt my head in hello, but he doesn’t even notice that I’ve walked into the room.
He didn’t use to be like this, so distracted, but my mom was never good at dealing with paperwork or insurance companies, so my dad has taken on that portion of my aunt’s illness. He also still works full time. Before my aunt got sick, my dad was thinking about retiring. Even with good insurance, cancer is not cheap. With all of her medical bills, my dad’s retirement has been put off indefinitely.
I sit on the sofa and sip my water.
Minutes later, I jump when my dad says, “Hey, kiddo.”
He closes his laptop, stands and comes to sit next to me. “I didn’t even see you walk in.”
I shrug. “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“How’s Ally?”
I shake my head, my eyes stinging. I don’t need to say anything. Leaning back, he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. I look at him, realizing the last six years have altered all of us.
My father’s hair is full gray now. He’s thinner, and he always looks tired. I know I look different too. My auburn hair reaches just past my chin. If I had known how long it was going to take to grow back, maybe I wouldn’t have shaved it. No, I still would have.
Four years ago, when my aunt’s hair started to fall out, we all shaved our heads to support her. My dad’s hair came back in gray. There was no change to my mom’s hair, which grew quickly, I might add. My hair, on the other hand, took forever to grow back. I also learned the hard way that I do not have a pretty round head. Some people can rock short hair. I am not one of them. My hair also grew back weird. I had to keep getting the back cut while I waited for the top to catch up. It’s finally approaching shoulder-length.
My dad puts his glasses back on and stares at the ceiling. He rests his hand on my knee and gives it a squeeze. He’s never one to get mushy.
I love my dad. He’s always very supportive of me, just in a standoffish kind of way. My mother, on the other hand, is affectionate to a fault. When I was younger, it embarrassed me. Now, I find it comforting.
My dad and I both turn our heads at the sound of the front door opening.
“I got takeout,” my mom sings as she heads toward the kitchen.
I inhale through my nose, trying to place what kind of food it is. I’m a picky eater. I always have been. Maybe being an only child made my parents more accepting of my refusal to try new dishes. I do not eat any kind of seafood, fish or otherwise. I also don’t eat alfredo sauce, yams (even with marshmallows on top), squash, or cooked fruit. There’s probably more stuff that I don’t eat, but I can’t remember them all.
Whatever Mom got smells like french frie
s. I can do french fries. My dad and I follow her toward the kitchen. She’s pulling plates down to serve our fast food. It seems pointless. All the food she bought came in boxes.
Why dirty plates as well? Maybe I only care because it’s my job to clear the table and load the dishwasher. I still have my water bottle, so I sit right down, popping a french fry into my mouth. They’re still warm. Yum.
My mom pulls something out of the fridge to make a small plate for my aunt. It’s depressing to see the amount of food. I’m pretty sure a Happy Meal serving is three times what my mom has laid out, even considering that it will be a miracle if Ally eats all of it.
Plate in hand, my mom leans down to kiss the top of my head as she walks past. For a moment, her perfume invades the space currently reserved in my nose for french fries. She smells nice though. It’s good one of us is holding it together. She probably even showered today. I guess that’s what denial will do for you.
“Aubrey, thank you for sitting with Ally while I ran out,” my mom says, walking back into the kitchen.
She’s brought the plate back down with her, food untouched. She sets the plate on the countertop by the stove. Maybe she plans to try to get Ally to eat again later. She sits down and delicately eats her hamburger, filling us in on her day. She has always had this running commentary. It’s like she doesn’t know how to be quiet. It’s not that it’s annoying. I’m used to it. But I’m more like my dad, quiet and reserved.
“Are you going to reenroll for the fall semester?”
I look up at my mom, surprised at her question. “I was going to wait until...” I trail off.
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