I laugh and toss my purse and keys on the black leather couch.
Inside, contrasting the dark red brick outside, it’s bright white and beautiful colors. Floor to ceiling windows on all three floors, and original artwork that August has collected over the years. The staircase to the second level is white with a dark wood finish on the handrails. I toss my black heels off at the foot of the stairs and tread up to August’s office, Claude in tow.
Hoping to not disturb August, I open the door and stick my head in to find him sitting at his desk – one hand on the keyboard of his computer and the other writing in a notebook. “Hey handsome.” I push the door open all the way and walk to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders from behind. I kiss his cheek, his five o’clock shadow gritty against my lips.
He sets his hand on my folded arms on his chest and breathes in deep. “Belle…”
I snicker, pulling away. He turns his chair around and sits me down on his lap. “How was your day?”
He smiles, delighted, turning his head to his screen and then back to me. “Great. I have a lot of the book outlined and wrote the prologue and the first two chapters.”
“Did your publisher accept your synopsis?” When I left this morning, he’d sent it in, but being so busy, I didn’t have time to ask him when we talked earlier in the day.
“They did. Had a few revisions like always, but it’s good to go.”
My eyes narrow and I purse my lips. “I still think it’s weird that I don’t know anything about this book.”
He presses his lips together. “You’ll read it.”
“When?!” I’m starting to worry he doesn’t want me to read it.
A sly smile appears on his face and his hand skirts from where it was resting on my hip up to the back of my hair where he threads his fingers in it. “Soon.”
I let out a loud breath. “You’re evading, August Wyatt.” I point my finger into his chest. “I’m not quite sure if I find it endearing or annoying.”
He lets out a laugh that booms throughout the entire room, and then he brings his lips close to mine. “Endearing. Definitely.”
I groan but allow him to win this battle, crushing my lips to his. His hips jut up to meet me and I turn in his grasp, letting my legs fall to the sides of the chair.
His one hand stays in my hair but the other moves to my back, his fingers tracing up my spine. My body shivers and he smiles against my lips.
I bite his bottom lip, my tongue finding his in a flurry of headiness.
Removing my glasses, I hastily set them on the desk and August does the same. When I turn back to him, my stomach flutters.
I wonder if this feeling will ever get old. My constant need to be close to him. My unwavering want to love him every chance I get. I hope it never goes away.
I yearn for him to be a part of me. Touch my soul. Feel me from the inside. Slide his hand behind my ribs, knowing that every beat of my heart is for him.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I deepen the kiss, loving the way his body feels against mine. My gasps become loud, and it spurs August – fueling his desire.
He pulls back, catching the lobe of my ear in his mouth. He sucks hard and a wave of shivers breaks out across my body.
Locking my legs behind the chair, lips eager, sucking and pulling on his neck, August brings his mouth back to mine. He takes his hand away from my hair and moves to the buttons of my shirt, unlatching each one. He never leaves my mouth as he tosses my shirt to the ground.
I pull back, finding the hem of his heather gray shirt. It falls onto the floor with my shirt.
His hands hungry, he jerks back. Dipping his fingers to the bottom of my skirt, he pulls it up around my hips, humming. I scoot back a bit and unbuckle his belt, unfastening his jeans.
Eyelids heavy, August places his hands on my hips, pushing me back so he can stand up to remove his pants.
Once they’re away and pooled on the ground with the rest of our clothes, he shoves his boxer briefs down, his length springing to life. My mouth waters, loving the way I turn him on. I cross my legs, feeling the pool of desire between them.
I unhook my bra and fling it away and then reach under my fallen skirt, taking the thin scrap of lace in my hands, pushing them down my legs. I kick them off my feet.
Reaching for my skirt, August stops me. “Leave it.”
I smile, my bottom lip disappearing under my teeth. He has a thing for leaving an article of clothing on during sexy time.
He steps back, his hand in mine, and sits back down in the chair. He entwines our fingers together, guiding me on top of him. His hips meet mine and I cry out, letting my head fall back.
He gawks and I find myself loving his examination. I lose myself in his eyes, so blue. A simple blue isn’t adequate enough. It’s like describing the grass as green. Sure, it defines the color satisfactory, but blue isn’t exact enough to capture the burning of August’s eyes.
He lets my hand go and I can’t help but stare, our breaths blending in a chorus of desire. He squirms underneath me, his shaft meeting my middle with every thrust of his hips, making my body shiver from the sensations shocking my senses.
All our years of sadness, of waiting and of yearning, always exploded to the surface when we connected like this. Every kiss, every moan was a band-aid on our relationship and I longed for healing.
Sliding himself between the lips of my middle, August grinds his hips up to mine, emitting a moan from my mouth. I anchor my hands to his shoulders and roll my hips against him. He sighs my name. The friction brings me to the edge of frenzy, taunting me. Rocketing through me, my arousal splinters off in different directions.
I move slow and precise at first, erasing my busy and demanding day, and turning it into something better. Something like ecstasy. No. Not like. August is ecstasy. He’s relentless and loving. Warm and addictive. He provides something far better than drugs. Passion. There’s no replacement for this sensation.
August hisses under his breath and I know he’s through with foreplay. His intense gaze meets mine and I lift on my toes. His hands move from my hips to the sides of his chair, all bare, chiseled torso and biceps strained. His tanned body quivers under mine and I take hold of him, stroking one time before placing him at my opening.
I have to stop myself from falling onto him. His stare, so scrutinizing and intense, I could watch him all night. All of our flaws, all of our mistakes made us into this whirlwind of hunger and I wish I could photograph it so I can remember it when I’m old – when my memory isn’t so clear.
Bracing my arms on the top of the chair, I position him at my opening and fall slowly, savoring the way every inch of him feels like heaven. We tremble together, August’s hands clenching my back. For a second, we still. We sit and gaze into each other’s eyes, just the feel of him is more than enough.
He brings his mouth to mine, demanding my lips, hot and needy. Wrapping his arms around my back, his entire body encircles me, every surface of mine touching every surface of his.
He rocks into my body, rattling my mind and easing it all at once. He brings life into my lungs. Air. Beauty. Purpose. Meaning.
He doesn’t need water, like Andy thinks. He thrives with water, sure, but he needs air to survive. It’s a necessity. I’m his necessity. She can’t take that away from him.
August’s arms flex as he moves into me. Fluid and smooth. Every ridge and vein so pronounced. I can feel he needed me like this. Close. Every inch of my skin connected to his.
I take him, unyielding and persistent.
One hand moves from my back to my shoulder and August pushes me down harder as the other hand splays on my lower back, thrusting me closer to him. He plunges deep inside and I feel my legs go numb, sensation crushing my nerves.
His inability to catch his breath urges me on. I love the way he becomes so uninhibited. I revel in it.
Conquering new depth after new depth, I find myself struggling for air. Gasping for breath.
I
swallow, my mouth dry as he picks up his pace, taunting me to the brink and then slowing just to bring me back.
Pump after glorious pump, he releases my mouth and smiles. I feel my walls around him tighten and with determination August’s eyebrows furrow as he pushes inside me.
My toes touch the floor, my skin slipping on the hardwood, but I buck against him, the friction becoming almost unbearable.
He rocks into me three, four times, his skin flush with mine and on the fifth thrust, my climax explodes into my entire body.
Stars burst in my vision and August grunts, his hips jutting viciously against me. I close my eyes and smile because this might be the best feeling in the entire world.
I ride out my high, swaying my hips as August comes seconds after me, shuttering my name against my skin.
Once our breathing subsides and I’m able to open my eyes, I pull back, my exhilaration still intact.
August smiles, pushing my hair back behind my ear. “I love you.”
I place a light kiss on his lips. “I love you, too.”
His eyes become playful and he nuzzles my neck as he gives my ass a sharp smack.
I yelp, rubbing my reddened skin. “What was that for?”
“Well, slap my mama, that was good.”
My head falls to his shoulder and I bust out laughing. I love that he’s still using his southern colloquialisms. “Yeah, August. That was definitely, slap-my-mama-good.”
If not better. I don’t tell him that. Don’t want to give him a big head now, do we?
Slower Than Molasses
New York City in the winter is beyond description. I’ve been here for a couple months now and every month that passes provides new reasons to love the city.
Autumn brought bright oranges and yellows. Along with the dropping temperatures and enormous leaves came oversized knit sweaters and pumpkin spiced everything. They decorate the city for Thanksgiving and everyone, even shop owners, participate. It’s stunning. I loved the fall in Georgia, but November in New York was like a renewed passion for all the things I wanted to accomplish at the beginning of the year.
But winter? New York turns into something far more beautiful.
It’s a magical, dream-like city filled with horse drawn carriages and snow flurries. New Yorkers are even slightly nicer when it’s cold. Maybe it’s because we’re all miserable so we figure it’s best to treat everyone with kindness because Mother Nature hates us all equally.
With flushed faces and hushed sounds, the Christmas lights in every window seem to shine brighter.
Yes, I officially consider myself a proud, Yankee-loving New Yorker, but don’t tell Mama. She’d keel over dead if she heard I was rooting for any team but the Atlanta Braves.
August is close to concluding his second book and I’d be more excited but he still hasn’t allowed me to read it. I think it’s become a game to him now. How long will it take for Cam to break before I let her read my words?
He’s evil, but he’s also amazing. He’s changed so much since we moved here. He’s happier and motivated. He’s inspired and an inspired August is a giddy August.
The past four months have been nothing but bliss and happiness. We argue much like any other couple. He gets angry because I can’t decide on a place to eat at night and he drives me insane when he doesn’t close the cabinets. Even with the insignificant disputes, life has been damn close to perfect.
The movie is finished, and is set to release sometime over the summer. Luckily, that means junkets, premieres and other movie-related crap won’t start until mid-spring. Thank the Lord. Because holy crapkittens, Batman, when it does start up, we’ll be running on video chat dates and random weekend getaways, but August is proud of the movie. He’s so excited to get it out into the hands of the public, I think he wishes he could promote it now.
For now, we’ve filled our days with work, exploring the city, good food and even better sex.
“Want to go to a movie tonight?” August asks from the couch as he watches the hockey game.
I peer at him from behind the island in the kitchen. “We should. It’s supposed to snow later, though.”
August smiles and turns away from his game. “Then we walk.”
Pouring eggs in a pan on the stove, I giggle. “You just want to walk because I fell on my ass last week.”
It hasn’t snowed all season but it has rained, and when it’s freezing, that damn rain turns into ice. Needless to say, I hit a patch of ice and biffed it. The only thing that truly made it funny was that August, while bent over laughing at me, fell too. We laid on the ice, giggling like two teenagers. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment, staring up at the gray sky as my heart swelled. It was incredible…and painful.
“Don’t judge me, Potter,” August says, moving his eyes back to the game as the crowd cheers.
“Why are you watching that game anyway?” I ask, scrambling the eggs.
He shrugs. “Jennings and Whitley are coming over next weekend. Jennings watches it. I figured if I at least brushed up on my very little knowledge, he wouldn’t make fun of me too bad.”
A bemused smile on my face, I raise my eyebrows. “He would totally make fun of you.”
He rests his arm on the back of the couch. “Exactly, but I couldn’t care less. I have no idea what half of what they’re saying means.” He scoffs, scratching the side of his neck. “What the hell is a clapper? Or a can-opener?”
Hell if I know. The only can opener I know of is sitting on the countertop right now. I’ve only ever watched baseball and that’s because dad loved it. Hockey is way out of my realm of understanding. “I have no clue.”
“Pain in my ass,” he grumbles under his breath but sits back, settling into the couch.
I finish breakfast and make a quick call to Mama and Lily. I miss them, but Lily has been here almost every two weeks since we moved and Mama will be back here for Christmas. It’s been a change to be away from them, but it’s also been nice to live in a city completely new to me where I could reinvent myself. I gotta say, I love the me I’ve become here. She’s kind of fierce and independent.
“Hey, babe!” August calls from his office later in the evening. “The movie starts in twenty minutes!”
“Dammit!” I yell, curling another piece of hair. “I’m not ready.”
I hear him chuckle and tap on his computer. “You’re slower than molasses.”
I grit my teeth, watching my reflection in the mirror. I’ve let my hair grow out. I never thought I looked great with long hair but August loves it and I found a hairdresser who can manage my unruly hair, so I figured I might as well try.
My eyes are brighter than normal. My cheeks hold the right amount of blush and walking everywhere has tightened my stomach and hips. Not that I thought I needed it. I’ve always loveed my curves and August does, too, but it’s nice to feel more confident naked.
Grabbing my heavy jacket from the closet, I quickly slide my arms in the holes and then slip on my black boots. I make sure to wear something with traction. I’m not about to fall again.
Rushing into his office, I find August writing. I do my best to be quiet, but of course he hears me and exits his document so I can’t read any of the words. I roll my eyes. “You’re relentless.”
August turns his chair, swiveling it in my direction. “True. Also, you look beautiful. I didn’t know we were dressing up.”
I look down at my black leggings and open my jacket to eye my flowy top. “I wanted to be comfortable.”
He stands, pulling my body to him. “Well, you look gorgeous.”
Butterflies flutter in my stomach and I smile, kissing his lips in a soft stroke. “Thank you.”
We’re late to the movie we originally wanted to see, of course, so we choose another one and stand in line to grab some popcorn and candy.
I turn from the concession stand and look out the glass doors. Small, fluffy flakes of snow fall from the sky, littering the air and I inhale sharply. “Augu
st, look. Snow.” My voice is whimsical and I feel my eyes sting a little. I always said I wanted to see New York when it snows and here I am with the love of my life, tucked under his arm as he tenderly stares down at me.
He kisses the top of my head. I force my eyes to turn away from the snow, serenity overcoming my body. August looks down at me, the smile planted on his face promising novels of love. Rubbing his lips together, he leans down. Gently touching his mouth to mine, he whispers, “I love you, Belle.”
I smile, my top lip caressing the whisper of a touch against his. “I love you.”
Loud, sudden music blares from the TV within the theater and I jump. Breaking news.
August’s hand stops rubbing my back so he can turn to see what the fuss is all about.
An image of him and Tomi fill the screen and my heart stops.
“We just received word that famous novelist, and local New Yorker, August Wyatt is going to be a father.” The words sucker punch me in the gut and I resist the urge to bend over and grab at my chest. “A source confirms that Tomi Hallan is pregnant with his child.”
August walks to the TV, standing directly in front of it, a few feet from me, and patrons of the movie theater begin to recognize him. I want to move to him, touch him, ask him how it’s possible, but I can’t make my feet move. They’re covered in quicksand and I feel myself going under.
I can still see the side of his face, his eyebrows furrowed deep down into his eyes. I notice his clenched fist – his knuckles stark white. When the news anchor cuts to another story and he turns to me, all commotion stops. The snow falls slower in my peripheral and I feel my eyes blink back tears, but there’s no use stopping them. He faces me full-on. I cover my mouth to catch my sob and my knees buckle underneath me. My head shakes but I’m not even sure I’m moving it myself. Shuddering, August, tears falling down his face, walks to me.
I shake my head, not willing to accept the news but understand I couldn’t possibly ask him to ignore it.
He grabs my shoulders, crushing my body to his. He holds me, our movie long forgotten. His hands caress my back and I fist his jacket in my hands, wishing I could touch his skin, tears spilling from my eyelids. His jacket becomes wet where I lay my head, but I don’t move.
Who Needs Air Page 18
