My girl.
Still to this day, I have a hard time comprehending those simple words … my girl. After five years, Mira’s mine. And now, it’s official … almost, anyway. I still have to get her down the aisle, but that’s just a formality. I really am the lucky one, though. Mira claimed my heart when I first saw her without even knowing it, and finally, after everything—college, the accident, and all the craziness that lead us to this exact point—hers belongs to me as well. It’s a damn good feeling.
Walking back to the bedroom, her after sex snack and drink in tow, I softly laugh as to not disturb the most beautiful sight before me. There’s only one thing she loves more than food and me … sleep. If left to her own devices, she would go to bed early, sleep late and take as many naps as possible.
Mira’s lying on the bed, my side albeit, legs all spread onto her side. I couldn’t
have been gone more than ten minutes, enough to make a grilled cheese and my girl’s sprawled all over, down for the count. If she was actually hungry, there’s nothing
that could keep her away from a grilled cheese.
Setting the sandwich on top of the dresser, I hit the lights and start my attempt of getting into bed. I start on the left side—my side—but quickly realize there’s no way I’m getting any kind of room to sleep comfortably. Next, I move to the right. It’s a shot in the dark, but I think I can make it work.
After using a few maneuvers that have worked in the past—yes, Mira and I have an issue with personal space and what side of the bed belongs to who—I’m met with a growl, cute and non-threatening, but a growl nonetheless. I can only imagine … had we dated in college and had to sleep on her small full size bed, we would have been in serious trouble. Not even this California King is enough room for her, let alone me.
Laughing lightly, I weigh the only two options I have—sleeping on the couch alone or on the small sliver of bed that my girl’s affording me. I choose the latter. Anything to be close to her and eventually Mira
will roll over and I’ll have space to breathe … hopefully.
*****
As expected, I wake early the next morning with more mattress than I fell asleep with. Don’t get me wrong, I actually have a pillow under my head and some room, but it’s not much. There happens to be a five foot nothing, raven haired beauty sleeping on top of me, making sweet little sounds (don’t ever tell a woman she snores) and nuzzling into my neck.
No complaints here. Not one. The kink in my back and neck will go away at some point. The memory of her naked, using me as her final resting point … yeah, I’m good with that.
Brushing the dark chocolate locks away from her face, I press a light kiss to her forehead. Either I’m having one hell of a case of morning wood or even Mira’s forehead is sexy enough to inspire an erection that’s on the verge of being painful. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.
As Mira stirs, I attempt to hide the arousal that’s only getting harder every second I spend looking at her.
I’m almost positive she’s possessed, the way she’s yawning and stretching. Her perfect-in-every-way
body, arching and twisting and pressing against me, is driving me utterly insane.
Seeing my ring on the hand that’s draped across my stomach brings out the animalistic,
primal tendencies you only hear about on Animal Planet. The need to be on her … around her … inside her.
“Well, good morning to you, too,” Mira giggles, nudging my dick with her thigh.
Mira adjusts her body so she’s straddling me, ass above my cock, making all those freaky fantasies play like a slideshow in my brain. I should be getting up to make coffee, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about Mira reverse cowgirl—her ass bouncing in my face, giving me the magnificent view of sliding in and out of her.
“Ahem,” I clear my throat, trying to distract myself from the illicit Made for Skylar movie playing behind my eyelids.
Mira glances down at her left hand, smiles and presses her lips to mine.
“I almost forgot. I have some calls to make,” she excuses herself, jumping out of
bed. “Babe, you made me food. How sweet,” she coos, rummaging through the drawer
for a tee shirt, taking a bite of the sandwich and over exaggerating a moan. So, you don’t really have to wait until you’re technically married for the cock teasing to begin?
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re gonna be a while. I’ll hop in the shower. You get the coffee?”
“Yep.” Mira walks out of the room, wearing the Hooliganz shirt with my name on the chest
… and nothing else. Not a bra, no panties … not even a pair of skimpy shorts. She’s
really not helping these impure thoughts. Temptress.
I take a longer than usual shower since the erotic scene of Reverse Cowgirl Mira won’t stop playing on repeat. Palming myself, my strokes are long and even until I get to the climax of the show—pun totally intended. My rhythm quickens as Mira leans forward, showing herself to me, bouncing on my dick as her pussy pulses around me, squeezing the life out of my cock until I finish on the bottom of the shower. A tinge of dissatisfaction hits me as the movie ends and I’m alone in the shower. Whoever said a nut is just a nut never had anything as sweet is Mira.
Getting dressed quickly, I walk out of the bedroom, heading straight for the couch where Mira’s sitting. I’m curious as to what everyone thinks of our engagement. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care what they thought—I really hope that our family and friends are as happy as we are.
What I don’t expect is to be met with a scowling Mira. Changing directions, in case
it’s something I’ve done to piss her off, I walk into the kitchen—out of range if
she feels the need to throw things. It wouldn’t be the first time a humidifier’s
gone flying across an open space, aimed at a man who pissed his significant other
off.
“What’s wrong, Sweets?” I grab a mug from the cupboard, place it in the coffee maker and push the brew button on the single serve machine, waiting for a response.
“I was all excited to tell Kylee and the bitch didn’t answer. So, I called Danny and he sounded like he didn’t care. My mom answered, but said she was busy and would call me back later.” Mira sulks into the couch, looking sad and depressed, pulling at every heart string I have. There really is nothing worse than the person you love being upset and you not having any control to make it better.
“Oh, Mi,” I say softly, trying to bring her emotions down to normal levels, “calm
down for a second. It’s still early. Ky and your mom will call you back in a little while. As for Danny,” I pause, trying
to think of something to not make her feel guilty, “he probably just woke up. You
know how he is in the morning.”
Fact of the matter is, I didn’t expect Danny to be overjoyed. Having been engaged to her a while back,
I’d be surprised if he was going to shout his excitement from the mountain tops.
Even through all of that, it would be nice if my best friend could show a little happiness
for us. I put aside my personal feelings and supported him the way I should have.
Why can’t he?
I just hope that’s all it is and we don’t have any unresolved issues between the three of us. The past
is the past. All we can do is move forward.
“What did you want to do for New Year’s?” I ask, changing the subject as quickly as possible.
“I don’t know. I’m not really in the mood to go out this year, unless you want to
go to the clubhouse. I’m sure they’re throwing a party or something, right?”
“Clubhouse isn’t really a good idea. All the members and their girls are gonna be
there. I’m talking max capacity,” I fumble with my words, not wanting to tell her
that I don’t want her there. Most of the guys are good ones, would do just about
anythi
ng for a brother, but then there’s the small minority. The not so good guys that would have no problem getting into some shit, regardless of who’s in the building. And the girls, not all are wives even though more than half of the members are married,
if you get what I’m saying. I just don’t want that kind of image in her head.
“Well, we can stay in and do something? Or see if Kylee, Jacoby, Danny and Melissa want to get together. Like old times.” A glimmer of hope and happiness creeps back into her eyes. If that’s what will make her smile, then by all means I’m going to do everything in my power to make it happen.
“I’ll try to set it up. What do you want for breakfast?”
“Bacon. Gonna try Kylee again in a little bit, hopefully she’ll answer. If I’m gonna be
Mrs. Skylar McBride I’ll need my Maid of Honor ready to start planning.”
“Okay, first, bacon? That’s it?” I ask.
“Whatever else you’re making, too, I guess. I just really want some damn bacon. Doesn’t that sound good?”
“When doesn’t bacon sound good?” I respond, pulling the whole package out and dropping it into
a pan that’s already hot.
Mira sits on the couch, waiting to be served, fiddling with her phone, presumably texting Kylee. I wish she’d just breathe for a minute, but she’s so excited, I can’t blame her. I won’t let her know, but as soon as I’m out of this house, I’m calling Danny to tell him. Being my closest friend since forever, I’m hoping he’ll agree to be my Best Man. I don’t know anyone else fit for the job or who would take the responsibility seriously.
CHAPTER THREE
Mira
After Skylar and I finished breakfast, Kylee still hasn’t called back or returned any of my text messages. Sky has some work to do at the shop and suggested I go to the apartment and find out exactly why she’s avoiding me. So, here I am, knocking on the door.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Well, I’m not exactly knocking. With my superb banging skills, I would have made an excellent cop. I have this part down pat.
“Ky! Open the damn door!” I scream, hoping to not disturb any of the neighbors.
Nothing is more dangerous than interrupting old lady Swaffer in the middle of her
General Hospital—the woman named her cats Luke and Laura for God’s sake. I’ll need
a doctor if she walks out of her apartment across the hall—walkers have the ability
to help one walk and also take a young person out. Double whammy.
This bitch, she’s insane. I tried Jacoby earlier in the afternoon and he’s not heard
from her, either. If she fucks this thing with him up, I’m liable to beat her within
an inch of her life. Those two are almost as perfect for each other as me and Skylar.
Since Kylee’s gone MIA, it would appear I’m the last person to see her. If detectives
show up at my door asking questions, I’ll look like prime suspect number one. At
this point, it just might be me that kills her. If I can fucking find her, that is.
“Dammit, Kylee. Answer,” I mutter, glancing at the set of keys in my hand. I still have access
to the apartment, but what if I walk in and find her in a compromising position with
one or more members of the Wolverine’s lacrosse team?
Shuddering, I send another text—now totaling fourteen—begging for a call as soon as she sees the message. It really shouldn’t be this difficult to tell your best friend about your engagement. Then again, if it was easy, it wouldn’t be Kylee. The girl makes everything more difficult than it has to be.
Walking back to the car, I can’t help but remember all the good times I’ve had here—we’ve all had here. Our little group grew up in this apartment, turned into adults and built
lives.
As excited as I am about moving forward and starting a new chapter of my life, I’m a little scared. Everyone’s growing apart and going in different directions. Nothing’s ever going to be the way it used to be. It makes me happy that we’re all doing so well, but at the same time, these are my people. I’ve relied on them for so much in the last five years, the thought of not having them in my corner breaks my heart.
Take Kylee for instance. In the sixteen years we’ve been friends—best friends—we’ve never gone a day without talking, except for when I was in the hospital. Now, it’s been two days and I’ve not seen her or even heard her voice. I know that growing up means just that, but losing a person who knows me inside and out is terrifying.
Something’s going on with her. They say twins have some kind of special intuition.
Kylee and I have that, too. Not as extreme, but you get the picture. When I find
her and wring her neck, we’re gonna have a long talk about her disappearing act and why it’s not okay to worry her friends.
Once I’m on the road, I dial Skylar to give him the details of my failed mission.
“Hey,” he answers. Short and snappy? Is everyone out of it today?
“No answer at the apartment either,” I cut to the chase. Maybe he’ll have some words of wisdom or an idea ... or something.
“So, she just went off the grid?” So much for something awe inspiring.
“It’s lookin that way. Her car’s in the lot, but I didn’t want to use my key. There’s a lot of things I know about Kylee, but seeing how limber she can be, that’s just not something I need a mental image of for the rest of my life.”
“She’s got a guy up there?” Okay, I know he’s just trying to help, but didn’t I just say that I didn’t use my key? How the fuck would I know what she’s doing up there?
“I don’t know. Didn’t. Use. My. Key.”
“What are you snapping at me for? I didn’t do anything. I’m just trying to talk
this out with you. Shit,” he sighs, obviously on the defense.
“I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. You won’t get it. It’s a girl thing.”
“What don’t I get? That you want it to be real and it’s not gonna be until you talk to her? Oh, Sweets, I get it.” And just like that, I fall a little more in love with him.
“I love you, babe. You do get it. You always understand. I’m sorry, again. Oh, did you talk to Danny about New Year’s?”
“I did. Looks like him and Mel already have plans. Might just be us, unless Kylee and Jacoby want to do something.”
“Alright, I’ll be home in a little bit. Just gotta run by the office and grab a few files.”
“Okay, be safe.”
“Always,” I respond, the same thing he tells me when he leaves.
Chuckling the sexiest laugh I’ve ever heard, he hangs up, leaving me with my own thoughts yet again. Turning up the radio, jamming out to some hair band music from the eighties, I’m able to lose my train of thought and enjoy the twenty minute ride.
My trip to the office is pretty quick. Tiffany tells me that Jacoby already left
for the day. I’m not scheduled to come back and start working out of the office again
for a few weeks, but I’m probably going to return sooner than that.
The garage has been slower than usual and I’m constantly under Skylar’s feet. I’m
not positive, but I don’t think that’s healthy for any relationship, especially one
that’s as challenging as ours.
Carrying the few files I grabbed from my office, I take them upstairs. Sitting at my makeshift desk—also known as the dining room table—I get to work on getting all of my assignments that need my attention out of the way first. I think I’ll miss working at home when I finally go back, but it’s going to be the casual environment that affords me the option of yoga pants and tank tops that I’ll miss most.
Between worrying about Kylee’s whereabouts, the beautiful rock sitting on my finger, not understanding Danny’s sudden hang up and work issues, I’m a bi-polar mess and need time just to figure some of this out. Yeah, maybe I’ll do the sorting when my s
ounding board gets home.
ME – ETA? I’m gonna start dinner.
SKYLAR – I’ll be late just throw me something in the microwave
ME – Y? Club or work?
SKYLAR – Work now club later.
ME – ok …. Love you
SKYLAR – love you 2
Awesome. Perfect. It seems like recently Skylar is doing more at the clubhouse. I love
that he’s got something to do and a good set of friends to rely on, but I’m always
home alone when he does it. It really wouldn’t hurt to invite me every once in a
while. I used to go with him a lot, but now we’re down to maybe once every few weeks.
I’ve read biker books. I know what happens when the “old lady” isn’t around. Granted, Skylar and the Hooliganz don’t bear a strong resemblance to those fictional characters or their clubs, but I’d be a fool not to worry.
Deciding not to deal with the club issue right now, I switch gears, praying that I don’t get my feelings hurt—or hurt anyone else’s, I send another text.
ME – U busy?
Ten minutes goes by and when I resign my thoughts of chatting with Danny, my phone chimes.
DANNY – Not nemore. What’s up?
This is not a conversation to be had via text messages. Things always get misinterpreted or taken out of context. Something about not being able to hear the inflection in the other person’s voice takes away from the actual message. And even though I’m guilty of using broken English and text shorthand, it drives me insane.
Clicking the call icon, I brace myself. Praying for the best, preparing for the worst. I know Skylar talked to him earlier, I just feel that Danny and I have a few things
of our own to deal with, and hopefully move forward.
“And there she is,” he answers on the first ring.
“That was fast,” I joke.
“I knew you’d call. You’re very predictable.”
“Yeah. Well. That’s me. But all joking aside, are you upset with me?” Not one for subtlety,
I close my eyes and wait for his response.
“No. Should I be?” he responds, sounding confused.
“Well. You didn’t seem too excited for me when I told you about,” I try to think
Epiphany Page 2
