Finding Forever (Found in Oblivion Book 7)

by Cari Quinn

  Mine. Forever.

  He scraped his thumb over her clit and she shattered, catching his mouth again so he could taste her moans as she came. And came, pouring over him like all the damn hot caramel she’d tormented him with all night.

  He couldn’t fight his orgasm another second.

  Gripping her hips, he hammered into her one last time and held, his gaze locking with hers. His cock jerked and he emptied himself inside her, thrusting again and again while she absorbed his body blows with soft, needy moans. She wasn’t finished yet. Would never be finished with him.

  She was his heaven, and he would never let her go.

  “Mine,” he whispered as he came back to himself and pressed his damp cheek to hers.

  “All yours.” She hugged him to her, rubbing his sweaty brow. “And you’re all mine, Malachi Shawcross.” Her lips twitched. “Milky Way.”

  He grinned, too replete to even smack her ass. “You have the devil in you.”

  Testingly, she bounced on him a few more times, and he groaned as his still half-hard dick woke yet again. “Hmm, yeah, I think you’re right.”

  Eight

  “Babe, you gotta lay down.”

  She whirled to Tristan’s voice. “I know. The baby is so restless tonight.” Her hands went to her lower back. Her center of gravity was way off. Mostly because their little one was trying out for gymnastics daily. He crossed the room to her and she eased around the floating rocking chair to trail her fingers along the lace of the bassinet.

  Their nursery was picture perfect.

  Her pregnancy had even been perfect. Just a little morning sickness in the beginning. Of course it could have been because she’d been numb for the entire pregnancy. How could she be sick if she barely tasted what went in her mouth?

  And oh, it had been amazing meals. Tristan had studied every book he could find on foods for optimizing pregnancy. And she’d eaten everything he put in front of her. Because she wouldn’t jeopardize this pregnancy for anything.

  It could be her last link to Randy.

  Some days she could make it through without the jagged reminder, other days she simply lived with it. Losing Randy had been like blasting her foundations into a dozen pieces. The cracks were hard to navigate when she didn’t know when one would come out trip her up.

  Tris was still there. He was still the same broad-shouldered, tightly muscled guy she’d hooked up with at Owen and Callie’s wedding. Maybe even a bit more muscled now. Because of her. Because she’d been having such a hard time connecting. She knew he was taking his frustrations out on their home gym.

  Tristan reached for her hand, but she curled her fingers around a soft giraffe instead.

  He fisted his hand.

  She wanted to reach for him. Ached to touch him. But it still seemed so wrong. As if she was tripping over a ghost each time she let him close. It wasn’t fair to Tris. None of this was fair.

  She hugged the animal against her belly. “I feel him tonight.”

  Tristan’s brow furrowed, its perpetual state of being lately. Squinty with deeper grooves eating into the brackets along his mouth as a finisher. Worry and pain always seemed to chase his features in a never-ending cycle.

  Maybe hers too.

  She hadn’t been able to look in a mirror much.

  Inside, she was so damn cold, but on the outside, she was practically blushing with warmth and that glow people spoke of about pregnant women. How the hell was she supposed to glow when she was so sad?

  It didn’t make sense.

  She turned to him and took his hand. It was still clenched tight until she brought it to the side of her extended belly. He instantly gentled and smoothed his fingers over the oversized T-shirt she was wearing. It was threadbare and stretched tight over her, but she’d been wearing it every night for the last week.

  Randy’s shirt.

  One of his old concert ones she’d found in the bottom of a drawer when cleaning out the room for the nursery. She didn’t even like KISS especially, but it smelled of him. At least it used to. Now, it smelled of her and Tris. Of all three of them maybe.

  “I’m still convinced it’s a girl.”

  Juliet smiled and swayed closer to him. She wanted it to be a boy. One who looked just like Randy so they could have at least this part of him forever. But she was pretty sure it was a girl too. “I can feel Sparks,” she whispered. “He’s all over this room tonight.”

  Tris pulled her in closer and settled his cheek against hers. “Yeah, I can too.”

  “Really?” She peered up at him.

  “Of course, I can. There’s not a spot in this place that doesn’t remind me of him, or us together.”

  She rested her cheek against his chest. The reassuring rhythm of his heart settled her and the baby, who had been literally trying to kick her way out tonight. But now that she was in Tristan’s arms, the baby calmed.

  As always.

  The minute she allowed herself to be held, the baby seemed to know. From wide stretches and rib kicks right down into an almost sigh of contentment.

  “I thought you said the baby was restless.”

  “You’re always the cure.”

  He lowered his forehead to her shoulder as his fingers tightened on her shirt at her hips. “Then why are you always leaving?” he whispered.

  Tears pricked her eyes and threatened to flow. “I don’t know.”

  “I know I’m not him—”

  “Stop.” She pushed him away only to hook her arm around his neck and drag him down to meet her eyes. “We’re enough.”

  His nostrils flared and his eyes were red-rimmed. “I don’t believe you.”

  She wanted to close him out. Wanted so much to slam the door on the emotions that wouldn’t stop bubbling up. It was so much easier to hold in all the pain. The numbness was easier.

  Letting any of it out meant maybe it would go away. She might forget what all that overwhelming love was like.

  And it seemed as if the door kept opening wider with each day closer they were to the baby being born.

  Randy wouldn’t be here to see the perfect little person she was carrying.

  But Tris was. Tris was always here. She cupped his face, then traced her thumbs along the sharp edges of his cheekbones. His face had always been angular, but now he was chiseled stone.

  Her rock.

  Because he’d had to be.

  And she’d selfishly allowed him to be. She’d leaned on him for everything except this. Except the one thing they used to be so very good at.

  Her chest ached as a tear slipped down his cheek and melted around her thumb. Just one tear. But it was enough to crack that damn door open even more.

  She rose onto her toes and pressed their mouths together.

  He went absolutely still. Shoulders, arms, even his mouth went as hard as stone. She closed her eyes and kept kissing him. The slow, leisurely kisses they used to enjoy on Sunday mornings. The rare ones when Tris didn’t have to go into the restaurant for the insanity that was Sunday brunch in LA.

  When the three of them used to play naked Sunday and make their own brunch with endless amounts of syrup used in all the right ways that had nothing to do with pancakes.

  And suddenly, the rock wall she was kissing became Tris again.

  The kiss was raw and stumbling. As if they didn’t remember how to do this alone. And in all honesty, they didn’t. They hadn’t made love since Randy. There’d been awkward kisses and almost touches. But it was easier to focus on the baby and on the sex-pad they’d had to change into a home fit for a child.

  Okay, maybe it wasn’t just a sex-palace, but they’d definitely been settled into a life where they could do what they wanted. Fucked where they liked. Hell, they’d had plenty of nights where they ended up on the floor watching a movie with pillows being used very strategically.

  Not anymore.

  They’d even talked about getting a house, but neither of them could quite pull the trigger on selling their place.
Not when they’d designed the entire space with Randy. Some ghosts would never be vanquished if she could help it.

  The baby kicked and Tris startled. “Whoa.”

  She smiled up at him. “That’s my life daily, buddy.”

  His mouth was wrecked and his eyes soft with that Tris of old. The bedroom eyes that had seduced her on more than one occasion. But in the softness was wonder. He placed his hand along her belly where they’d bumped up against each other. “Come on, do it again.”

  She laughed. God, that felt good. She couldn’t remember when she’d laughed with Tristan. “Think you’re going to have to kiss me again.”

  “What?” Startled eyes met hers.

  “The baby calms down when we touch. But kissing seems to have gotten her riled up.”

  He bit his lower lip. “Her? Or you?”

  She cupped his face again. This time, her thumb drifted over his lips. The crooked top lip she’d loved to bite on. The slightly thinner lower lip that he wouldn’t stop mangling. She closed her eyes as she felt teeth, then a gentle nip.

  The baby spun and kicked again. She opened her eyes and another laugh slid out.

  His eyebrows shot up and he echoed her with a laugh of his own. “Soccer player?”

  “Or gymnast.” She licked her lips. “Try again.”

  His gaze raked over her face. The hesitancy she saw in his expression was so not the Tristan she’d fallen in love with. It was the one she’d created by holding back and by making their relationship about all they’d lost. Back when they’d first been together, it had been his cockiness she’d chased. The way he’d never taken no for an answer and completed her on levels she hadn’t been aware were possible.

  Until Randy.

  Randy had been the sweetness to Tristan’s intense.

  Right now, maybe she needed a little of that old intensity. Maybe she’d be able to feel something other than numb.

  The baby thumped one more time. Enough that she winced.

  “Are you sure?” He smoothed his hand over the way too generous swell of her belly. Soothing where the baby had kicked against him as well.

  “Would you just frigging kiss me?”

  And he did. Mercy, it was as if he’d been released from the penalty box and she was going to get every bit of him. He cupped her face and kissed her with all the pent-up anger and emotion that had been walled up between them.

  She reached for him, her fingers relearning the hollowed out edges of muscle and hair-roughened skin. She scraped her nails down the enticing vee at his hip and into his soft pajama pants.

  “Jules.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I can’t.”

  She let him go.

  “No.” He covered her hand with his. “God, don’t let go of me. But it’s been so long, I can’t be sure I’ll be gentle enough.” He brushed his hand over the swell of their baby. “We’re kinda far along here.”

  “The doctor said we could.”

  “What? Even…are you sure?”

  She laughed. “It’s said to move things along.” After she said it, she almost wanted to snatch the words back. Holding the baby inside was keeping a piece of Randy close to her. One that maybe no one else could.

  Even Tris.

  Selfish, but true.

  And why she was forever haunting the rooms of their place. Restless. She knew it was coming. Could feel that the baby was just about cooked, for God’s sake. Her lower back sure said so.

  But once the baby was born it wouldn’t be just hers anymore.

  She’d have to share him or her—though she could feel it in her bones, it was a her. But maybe it was time for her to share.

  In so many more ways.

  She stroked her hand down Tristan’s length. The little curve she remembered so well from the inside and out. How he could hit every freaking spot in her body until she was straining and screaming.

  She brushed her thumb along the underside of the head and heard that humming growl she remembered so well. The one she would always exploit until she got what she wanted.

  Jules took a step back, drawing him closer as she used his cock as a handle.

  His laugh was bright and happy. Something she hadn’t heard in so very long.

  Her fault, but maybe she could make up for it a little. “Follow me, sir.”

  He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, but he followed. She led him deeper into the open and spacious living room and then on to their bedroom. To the king-sized bed that she’d needed to face for far too long.

  They’d been sleeping in the guest room because neither of them could deal with their old room. Even with a new bed, it was their room. It might not be their big circular bed anymore, but there was nothing but good memories in that space.

  And right now, they needed those good memories and maybe even the blessing of a ghost.

  “Jules.”

  “Trust me.”

  Tris took a deep breath and flicked on the light. The California king bed was a decent size. Surely more than they needed, but they were used to a pond-sized bed. And right now, she needed room to show him how much she wanted him to touch her.

  She sat on the side of the bed and rolled the tight shirt over her belly and up to her breasts.

  Tristan’s eyes hooded and went dark. His brow furrowed with some deep thought. She didn’t want thoughts here. Just for him to feel her. She lifted her arm and reached for him.

  He wanted her.

  It was there in every straining muscle from his shoulders to the impressive one she hadn’t taken care of in far too long. He came closer and stood before her, between her legs.

  “I know I’m a bit different than the last time we did this. Everything is.”

  He cupped her face. “We don’t have to do this.”

  She flipped the shirt over her head and flicked her braid behind her shoulder. The prenatal vitamins made her hair grow like a damn weed. “We do. It’s so overdue, Tristan. I need to feel close to you. And I know you need me just as much.”

  “So much, Jules.” His voice was as rough as gravel. He trailed the tips of his calloused fingers over her chest to the necklace she never took off. Randy’s ring there between them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I know. I’m so—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t be sorry. We’re both trying to figure this out.”

  “But I pushed you away.”

  “And I let you. I’m just as much to blame.”

  They’d fallen into bad habits all around. Even before they’d gotten it right as a triad, Tristan had always thought he was the lesser one. No matter how many times she and Randy had told him otherwise. And now, her actions had been a constant reminder of his worst fears.

  So stupid.

  So selfish.

  So unkind.

  Right now, they needed all their kindness and love to make sure their little one knew how much she was loved. At least she could start that before it was too late.

  She inched into the center of the bed and pulled him on it after her. She curled onto her side and drew him up behind her. His arm slid around her, the hair on his forearms ticking her ultra-sensitive breasts.

  They weren’t good for much but baby usage at the moment, but the zing of excitement and pleasure sat under the discomfort. He cupped them gently and kissed her shoulder. She dragged in a quick breath. Okay, maybe more than just a baby milk factory.

  “I’ve been reading that stack of books we got from Lila.” He lightly tugged on her nipple. “It said you might be more sensitive.”

  “Holy cow.” She squirmed back against his solid chest.

  His lips coasted up her neck to her ear. “All this medical speak for extra blood flow and super sensitivity.” He tweaked just a touch tighter and she arched. “Fuck.” He ground his hips against her ass. “I might come just from listening to you.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  He shifted her until he could reach, then his other hand slid down her s
ide to the oversized shorts she was wearing. “Your skin is like silk. I forgot how warm and soft you were.”

  She swallowed down a lump in her throat. It threatened to push aside the pleasure, but then his fingers came around her waist to between her legs. She jumped.

  “Easy. Fuck, you’re so wet.”

  She really didn’t want to tell him she was constantly crazy down there right now. Might ruin the moment and she didn’t want that. She’d felt moored on her own for so long—by design, of course. But still, she didn’t want to give up this closeness. Not now. “I need you.”

  His fingers on her breast went a little firmer. As if he couldn’t resist the call of emotions swirling up between them either. “I want to be inside you so fucking bad. Fuck, I ache for it, Jules.”

  “Then freaking get in there.”

  He laughed against her neck. “It’s been so long, I don’t know—” He choked off into a growl when she reached for him.

  “I might be an unwieldy whale at the moment, but don’t test me, pal.”

  “Christ. I got it.”

  She groaned out a slow breath as he shifted her again and stroked his rigid length along her folds. It had been so long, and everything felt alien and different, but there was one thing she knew. That when he was inside her things made sense. And maybe then she’d finally even out. Maybe the bubble sitting in her chest would ease.

  He teased inside of her slowly, pulling back before trying again.

  “I’m not a damn virgin. Obviously.”

  “Fuck, Jules.”

  She dragged him closer and finally, he pushed all the way inside. She hissed out a breath as she had to get used to something inside her again. Not that she hadn’t been prodded a zillion times in the last seven months since they figured out she was pregnant, but this was so much different.

  So much more.

  He changed the angle so she was more on her side, and she pushed back to take more of him. “God, yes.” His arm suddenly coasted down her side and her legs to bring her knees up and oh, where did those freaking angels come from? She tried to grab a hold of something, then found his hand at her knee as the other one slid under her to cup her breast. He tucked his chin into her neck and surrounded her completely. He pulsed inside her, hitting all these spots she didn’t know she had. Or rather, ones she had forgotten about in her grief.