L.O.V.E.

by Krissy Daniels

  “Merry Christmas,” I whispered, then made my way home.

  Natalie

  No expense had been spared for my uncle’s retirement party. The ballroom took my breath away. Square four-tiered crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling. Bronze paneled walls hid blue mood lights. Four mirrored columns framed the pristine white marble dance floor. I stood on the edge, watching guests sway and twirl to the live orchestra tucked in the corner of the massive room.

  “Natalie.” An arm came around my waist. “My favorite niece. How’s the new job?” He dipped to accept a kiss on the cheek.

  “Uncle Joe.” I leaned into his embrace. “Love the job. Kicking ass and taking names.”

  “That’s my girl.” He looked out into the sea of moving bodies. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  A photographer floated around the ballroom, recording the festivities.

  “Wouldn’t have missed it for the—wait.” My heart dropped three inches. “Why is Cole Adams here, and who is he dancing with?”

  I studied the tall, curvy beauty in his arms. Dark hair fell in soft waves down her back. Small waist, ample bottom, long, toned legs. She moved effortlessly in a pair of—I ducked to get a better look—yep, Louboutin.

  Cole held her intimately but not too close. But his smile. That rare, beautiful smile was all for her.

  “Cole Adams?” Joe asked, his thick, white brows rising. “You know him?”

  “Yes. We’re friends-in-law,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” I grabbed my uncle’s wrist and begged, “Who’s the woman?”

  “Oh. That’s—”

  “Joe King,” came a deep voice from a short man wearing too many gold rings and one infectious grin.

  Joe laughed. Then men embraced. Introductions were made.

  And just like that, my uncle left me standing like a jolly green jerk, elated to see the man I’d walked away from, deflated by the stunning woman in his arms, and so shamefully envious that she brought his dimples out to play.

  “Here ya go sweetie. Barolo.” Dad stood next to me, wine glass in one hand, whiskey neat in the other, looking sharp as ever in his new suit. “Who ya staring at?”

  “Thanks.” I retrieved my liquid courage from his hand, then pointed to the crowded dance floor.

  “Oh great! Cole’s here,” Dad shouted. He slapped my back. “Small world, huh?”

  I lifted the glass to my lips. I hadn’t seen Cole since Christmas. Four weeks had passed since I’d left him sleeping in his bed. We’d texted. He’d called me at the stroke of midnight for New Year’s. He’d kept the conversations short and sweet. How was your day? I bought a new building yesterday. Your dad kicked my ass at squash. Leon puked all over my Brioni suit.

  Not once did he ask where I lived, or worked, or if I missed him. We never broached the subject of dating or when I’d be back in town. He never mentioned the gift. Every night, I fell asleep browsing the pictures of him on my phone.

  “Who’s here?” Mom cozied up to my left, the hem of her full skirt brushing against my bare leg.

  “Cole Adams,” Dad said, pointing, and then…oh, shit. Waving.

  Yes. Waving.

  We’d been spotted.

  I had no choice but to stand wedged between my parents with a fake smile pasted on my face, choking on the bile rising in my throat while Cole came our way, his hand on the back of the woman at his side.

  I studied the grooves in the white marble. How did they keep the floor so clean?

  “Natalie.”

  Oh, God. That voice. Thick and warm, like melted caramel. I was toast. I couldn’t look. I couldn’t let them witness my crumbling dignity.

  “Linda. Charles.” Cole cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet my mother, Felicia.”

  “Oh,” I whispered, smiling, feeling ten thousand pounds lighter and one hundred percent the fool.

  A horrid gasp came from my mother, so loud I jumped, spilling wine over my fingers, but not on my new Armani dress, thank you Jesus.

  “Felicia?” Mom shoved her glass of wine into my free hand and threw her arms around Cole’s mom.

  Felicia laughed, then bellowed, “Linda? Is it really you?”

  I met Cole’s beautiful, dreamy eyes, all the more spellbinding under the blue lighting, and I knew I needed to fight the hypnotic pull, but I couldn’t remember why.

  Before I could say hi, or apologize for my mom’s behavior, or peel the two women apart, Cole snatched the drinks from my hand, set them on the table behind him, and caught me in his arms, sweeping me back to the dance floor.

  An old, airy tune played, and he pulled me close, cinching my waist with one arm, securing my hand with his other. He’d clearly had lessons because we swayed and twirled through the crowd, and even with my two left feet, we didn’t so much as brush against another couple.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, breathless and so turned on by the friction between our bodies I could barely feel my legs.

  “My dad and your uncle go way back. Remember?”

  Oh, yes. I’d met his father on the street all those months ago.

  His lips grazed my ear, eliciting a shiver. “And I knew you’d be here.”

  Heaven help me. I tripped, his voice, his confession making me dizzy. That strong arm of his held my weight, then tightened, securing our bodies.

  On a twirl, I caught sight of our moms, now sitting at a table with their arms around each other, each of them dabbing tissues under their eyes.

  “What do you suppose is happening between our mothers right now?”

  “No clue,” he said, his lips dangerously close to mine. “How have you been?”

  I dodged, avoiding any accidental lips-locks. “Do you think we should find out how they know each other?”

  “I don’t want to talk about my mom while you’re in my arms.”

  “Aren’t you worried?” I stretched my neck to see over his shoulder. “What could they be talking about?”

  He had the audacity to laugh. “They’re planning our wedding. Plotting grandchildren.”

  “But they’re—”

  His lips covered mine in a hard, no-holds-barred kiss, those strong hands holding me rock solid against his steel frame in the middle of the dance floor in front of my uncle’s family, friends, and colleagues.

  Was everyone staring? Oh, God. I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t move, breathe, or think straight because Cole held me like he owned me, claiming me in public for the world to see.

  He broke the kiss. Solemn eyes met mine. “You’re not kissing me back.”

  “I can’t,” I said, staring at his full lips.

  “You want to.”

  God, those dimples. “It hurts too much when I have to stop.”

  “Because you want us as much as I do.”

  “Let’s not talk about this right now. Not here.” I pulled free and skirted through the crowd toward our mothers.

  Mom’s head was down, her face pressed close to Felicia’s. When she saw me, she jumped to her feet. “Natalie.”

  Hiding my ebbing tears, I dodged the table. “Be right back, Mom.” Like a coward—a lovesick coward—I headed toward the ladies room but instead smacked nose to chest into my Dad.

  “Natalie,” he said, voice stern, grip steady. “You need to hear this.” He turned me to face Mom, and by the look on her face, I knew, undoubtably, that my life was about to take a major turn.

  Cole now stood behind his mother, hand on her shoulder but all of his attention on me.

  Mom and Felicia held hands. “Felicia is the woman from the hospital.” Mom wiggled in her stilettos like an excited child. “From the day you were born. The photo. This is her.”

  “No.”

  Felicia nodded.

  “No.” I looked between the two women, then to Cole, then to my mother. “Mom. You said his name was Caleb.”

  “I got it wrong. I was in labor you know, then on pain pills, sleep deprived, and wel
l…Cole. Caleb. Close enough.”

  I shot a questioning glance Cole’s way. Dad squeezed my shoulders and whispered, “What do you know? Soulmates,” before letting go.

  The room faded into millions of blurry raindrops, the only clear point Cole’s gorgeous face. “When is your birthday?”

  “March first.”

  Same as mine.

  “Where were you born?”

  Brows pinched, he said, “Seattle.”

  “What hospital?”

  “Seattle Memorial.” He stepped closer. “Why?”

  “I have to go.”

  “Wait. What’s happening right now?”

  I turned to flee but heard Felicia say, “Natalie is the baby I always told you about. From the day you were born.”

  Cole

  Natalie was the one.

  My grandfather had told me so.

  My mother had told me so.

  The fates had just slapped me upside the head with that brilliant, well-timed gift.

  She was the one, and she was running away.

  Not again. Never again.

  “Natalie, wait.” I followed behind, far enough to give her space, close enough to keep her from disappearing. “Just wait a minute. Where the hell are you going?”

  Slowing her pace, she said over her shoulder, “I need to think.”

  “What’s there to think about?” She was mine. She’d always been mine.

  She stopped so fast I damn near plowed her over. When she turned, we were toe to toe, and, fuck, if her aura didn’t knock me off balance and rob my breath.

  “What isn’t there to think about?” She adjusted her glasses.

  God, there was nothing cuter. The red frames matched her dress and her lipstick.

  We stood impossibly close, but I shoved my hands into my pockets to refrain from touching. “How about for one goddamn minute we stop thinking about everything and enjoy this huge fucking revelation dropped into our laps? You know how many times I heard that story growing up? Told my mom she was crazy? Laughed it off?”

  Natalie stared, long and hard, studying my features, then slumped. She took one step back, then another.

  “You are not walking away from me again.” I followed, matching her stride for stride. My guts knotted. Unnerving, that invisible string between us. “Don’t run from this.”

  Still inching away, but letting me gain ground, she whispered, “This is crazy, Cole.”

  “Crazy or fate?”

  “I can’t leave my job,” she whispered, her argument lackluster at best.

  “I can’t either.”

  She pursed her dewy red lips. Nodded. “So there we have it. What’s the point of pursuing a relationship when we live in different states?”

  “The point is…the point is…” The truth I’d buried deep rose from the depths of my sheltered spirit, a confession given wings. A deliverance. “I love you, Natalie King.” I grabbed her shoulders, not to keep her from running, but to ground myself before I spiraled out of orbit. “I fell head over heels that day in the coffee shop. One look. One fucking look, and I fell. We connected. There was something there. Something greater than you and me, or Victoria, or Holden Oswald Travers the Third.”

  “God, I always hated that name,” came a gruff voice from my left. Natalie’s uncle landed a firm pat on my shoulder as he passed, drink in hand, swagger unsteady, his timing pretty damn spot on.

  Natalie took advantage of the interruption, turning her face and swiping her cheek.

  I ducked to catch her gaze, missing that connection. Her eyes on me? Fuck. Better than any drug.

  A tear rolled down her cheek, and I lifted my hand to catch the moisture, but she caught my fingers in her own.

  “Say it again.” Her voice broke.

  My chest cracked open, spilling confetti hearts, bright flowers, puppies and kittens and, fuck, a rainbow, too.

  I’d give her those words a thousand times. Every day. For eternity. “I love you.”

  “Again.” She lifted her eyes to mine.

  “I love you,” I repeated, my throat thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you since the day you were born.”

  My beautiful Natalie nodded, sucking her lips between her teeth, face scrunching.

  I owned those tears.

  Tucking her safely to my chest, I escorted her around the corner and down a long hallway, away from prying eyes.

  Cupping those drenched, rosy cheeks, I lifted her face and drank the salt from her lips, our kiss slow and tender.

  A familiar tune floated down the hallway. Only the piano at first, then a sultry voice, belting the lyrics to “My Way.”

  Mona King.

  Natalie dropped her head to my shoulder, her breath warming my neck. “My cousins have arrived. We should join the party.”

  “I’m not ready to share you.” I assumed the position, her left hand in my right, my left hand at her waist, and twirled my girl around the empty space.

  “How’d you learn to dance?”

  “Mom insisted. If I was going to be a fighter, I needed the grace of a dancer.”

  “Remind me to thank her later.”

  God, she killed me. I’d dropped my bleeding heart at her feet, and she wanted small talk. Whatever. I’d give her anything.

  “Can you believe this shit with our mothers?”

  Natalie didn’t answer, instead studying my face, her eyes liquid and worried.

  I spun, once, twice, until her back hit the wall. Loved her that way, safe between my arms, breathing hard and blushing. “Whatever doubts you have floating around that head of yours, stop. I’ve got this. I’ve got us. We’ll figure this out.”

  She opened her mouth to argue. I silenced her with a kiss.

  God, the way she kissed, taking all that I gave, giving it back tenfold, her entire body getting involved, melding to mine.

  I had no plan other than holding her and taking my fill, but then she coiled her arms around my neck, hopped up, and hooked those sexy legs around my waist, and my sole purpose became making that woman shatter in all the best possible ways.

  “Fuck. I need you. Right now.”

  The vixen moaned, grinding against my erection, and…Jesus…fuck. My knees buckled.

  “Good God!” A sultry cry bounced off the marbled walls. “Sorry. So sorry to—Natalie?”

  “Shit.” I laughed. What else could I do?

  “Oh, God.” Natalie dropped her feet to the floor, and I held her steady and close, blocking her from view until she righted her skirt.

  She looked up at me, biting her lip and laughing, too.

  “Hi, Angelique,” Natalie said, clutching my shirt and turning her head to face the intruder.

  Angelique. Finn’s mother. They had the same exotic eyes

  “Sorry, Natalie.” The statuesque woman clutched a small silver purse to her clingy black dress. “I was looking for the ladies’ room.”

  “It’s on the other side of the bar.”

  Cheeks crimson, Angelique raised an eyebrow at me, smiled, then said to Natalie, “Oh, my sweet child. I’m so glad you moved on from that oversized doofus. You know, the one with the funny name.” Then, she shot me a wink, turned, and made her way back into the ballroom, her red heels perpetuating a killer hip swing that only a well-seasoned lady could pull off.

  “I like Angelique.” I lifted Natalie’s arms back around my neck.

  “She’s a character. And one of the smartest women I know.”

  “Can we get back to kissing?” I pinned her against the wall once again.

  “Nats! There you are.” Finn’s voice boomed our way.

  Jesus. Fuck. Enough with the interruptions.

  With a heavy sigh, Natalie pried her body from mine and fell into her cousin’s arms. Their embrace was short and sweet, but long enough for me to wipe the lipstick off my mouth and straighten my tie.

  Finn looked my way. “Dad’s about to give his speech. Come on.”

  Arm around Natalie’s shoulder, he off
ered his hand. We shook. He guided my girl back into the ballroom. I followed and joined my parents while Natalie joined her family.

  Joe King gave a heartfelt, funny speech, waxing poetic about hard work, integrity, and the love and support of his wife.

  Coworkers took their turns at the mic, and accolades turned into heartwarming stories, then raunchy jabs at the guest of honor, and soon the entire audience was in tears. Drinks were had. The dance floor abused. And when I couldn’t stand another second away from a happy, smiling Natalie, I bid my parents and her parents goodnight and stole her from the party.

  The little firecracker wiggled between me and the front door, kicking off her heels, her delicate fingers raking over my chest, working my buttons. “I need you naked. Now.”

  I fumbled with her zipper, tugged. Tugged again. “Fuck. It’s stuck.”

  “No,” she half laughed, half cried, turning in my arms and pulling her hair off her back. “Try now.”

  I pulled. Pulled again. Wiggled. Yanked. The damn thing wouldn’t budge.

  The dress was gorgeous. On her, a work of art. Tight red bodice that hugged and lifted her tits. A short, full skirt that highlighted her toned legs. Too bad I would have to shred the damn thing.

  Natalie turned to face me again, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes wild with need. Again she worked at my shirt buttons and nipped at my chin. Fevered. Desperate.

  When she tugged at my belt and her fingers grazed my cock, my vision blurred.

  “Fuck. Fuck!” I cupped her breasts, claimed her mouth, and then with one hard tug, tore that damn fabric down her chest, exposing her hard, pink buds.

  Natalie gasped. I ducked, catching her perfect flesh in my mouth, nipping, sucking, teasing with soft licks.

  Her fingers curled into my hair, holding me tight to her chest, like she wanted more but couldn’t ask.

  I pulled her harder into my mouth and sucked. Good fucking God. Salty and sweet. Heavy and soft. Perfect. And mine. Thank fuck, they were mine.

  I slid a hand between her legs, under her panties, and over that smooth flesh, finding her swollen and hot. My head spun, all the blood in my body rushing to my cock.

  Fuck the bed. To hell with taking it slow. Natalie was finally in my arms, and I would take her in every goddamn square foot of my home, starting with the floor.