The One

by Kristin Vayden

“It is.” He nodded and walked back to the kitchen.

  I turned back to the window. “Good to know.”

  “You want something to drink?” Kirby called from the kitchen.

  “Water.”

  “Got it.”

  A moment later he handed me a glass etched with ‘Guinness’ and full of water. I took a sip. “Are you going to give me the full tour?”

  “But of course.” He bowed grandly and walked over to the door leading to the hall. “Entrance and exit.” He walked to the narrow hall. “Kitchen.” He then walked a few steps to the sofa. “Living room, family room, formal dining room, and breakfast nook.”

  “Smart ass.”

  “And here you just promised to think of better turns of phrase for me.” He clicked his tongue.

  “Ass,” I whispered this time, earning a glare.

  I bit back my laugh.

  “This here is the bathroom.“ He opened one of the doors off the side of the living room and flicked on the light.

  I walked over and peeked in. “Lovely.” A pedestal sink was flush against a claw-foot tub, which shared a tiny amount of floor with a toilet where the tank was actually on a shelf above it and in a window.

  “Efficient,” he corrected.

  “My thoughts exactly.” I nodded.

  “And here is the master bedroom.” He turned to the other door and opened it, swinging it wide. What I expected was a small unmade bed, clothes all over the floor along with shoes and books.

  What I saw was exactly the opposite. “Wow.” I walked into the sunlight-flooded room. A full bed sat in the middle of the room flanked by matching side tables and matching lamps. Books were stacked neatly on each one with overflowing stacks beside the door and bed. Not a shred of clothing was in sight.

  Kirby started to laugh. “You know—”

  “If you say ‘I get that a lot’ I’m going to smack you.” I turned and warned him.

  “I wasn’t.” He held up his hands in defense.

  “Sure.” I raised an eyebrow, but turned my attention to the books scattered around. “I see you still have that crazy appetite for reading.” I knelt and picked up a volume of Jules Verne.

  “You don’t outgrow books, Merry.” He picked up another book. “This one is a first edition Jungle Book.” He handed me the hardbound copy.

  “You loved this book growing up.”

  “It’s a classic. I also have a signed copy—”

  I whistled. “Bet that cost a pretty penny.” I flipped the book over and read the gold lettering on the back.

  “It was worth it. But I dinna keep it here.”

  I handed the book back, and we walked to the living room. “Kirby, this place… I get it. I get why you live here. It’s… perfect.” I sat on the sofa and watched as the fire crackled with heat… no smoke setting off the fire alarm.

  He didn’t sit, rather stood and put his hands in his pockets, then took them out. After shifting on his feet, he put his hands back in his pockets.

  Weird.

  “What’s up?” I watched him curiously. If I didn’t know any better I’d say Kirby was… awkward.

  “Me? No. Nothing.” He shrugged and sat in a nearby chair, rubbed his knees with his hands then laid back. A moment later sat back up.

  “Why are you acting weird?” I tried the more direct approach.

  He took a deep breath. “It’s just… having you here is kind of like letting you inside my head, and it’s a bit… unnerving.”

  Huh. “I didn’t think of it that way… but yeah.”

  “The people I know… I’ll take them to my other house. You know, hang out, watch the game—”

  “You show them what they want to see… what you want them to see.” I leaned forward slightly.

  “I show them what I’m… comfortable with.” He folded his hands. “This? This is just… me. Nothing shiny, nothing fancy…” He held out his hands.

  “A little awkward,” I added with a small grin.

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  I grinned and picked up my glass of water and finished it. “Be right back.” I stood and walked to the kitchen. The sink was at the far end of the narrow galley style room, and as I passed the small plug in cook top, I noticed a weird circular oven.

  Scratch that. It was the washer. “Laundry and lunch. I like it,” I called back to the living room.

  “Efficient,” Kirby called back, teasing. I watched as he stood and walked to the entrance of the kitchen and waited.

  I turned on the faucet and filled my glass then started to turn it off… but it wouldn’t shut off. “Is there a secret handshake to this thing?”

  “Shit, no. Wait. Don’t touch the—”

  I pushed too hard on the handle and it sprang off, clattering to the floor and increasing the water to full blast as it poured into the sink.

  “I’ve got it.” I bent down to get the handle, grasping it just as Kirby did. And even though I had held his hand all day, on and off, just the simple touch of his fingers across mine was electric. I glanced up, wondering if it was just me.

  His blue eyes dilated slightly as his gaze moved from mine and down to my lips, then back. I released the handle and stood as he did.

  I backed into the corner to let him access the sink, but all I could really do was inch over so he could lean across me. The air was permeated with his spicy sweet cologne, calling to me and sending heat to all the wrong — or right — places.

  “Fixed.” He turned the water off, but didn’t back away. Rather he shifted, making us hip to hip. He rested his hands on the counter; I glanced down noticing how they practically dug into it, as if holding himself there when he wanted to move… to touch. My heartbeat pounded through my body, echoing in my ears. I glanced up. He didn’t move and I watched as he watched me… as if waiting.

  Waiting for me to make the first move.

  Instinctively, I knew that this was different. This wouldn’t be just a kiss. This would be a turning point — and there would be no going back.

  Did I want that?

  Hell, yes.

  Did I want to risk that?

  Hell, no.

  He must have seen the conflict in my expression, and he glanced away, shifting as if about to move. But I knew that as pivotal as this was… if I didn’t take the risk, I’d regret it.

  Forever.

  So before he even moved a full inch, I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him back. “Not this time.” His eyes flashed with blue fire and he leaned forward slightly, but paused.

  Still waiting.

  I reached my arms up and slowly trailed my fingers through his beard, marveling at its soft texture. He groaned low in his throat as I continued my caress up to his head and tugged on the tousled curls.

  “Merry,” he murmured my name, low and deep.

  I gently pulled his head down toward me, marveling at how easily and carefully he did as I asked.

  I rested my hands in his soft beard as I gently kissed his lower lip, savoring the smooth texture of it as I caressed it with my tongue.

  After releasing his lip, I went back for more. This time I flicked my tongue against his mouth, tentatively meeting his and then pulling away gently.

  His hands moved to splay across my hips, pulling me in tight against him, running his fingers up and down my side then wrapping around my back and holding me secure as he returned the kiss. His hands roamed my back as he bit my lip, taking it into his mouth and caressing it softly with his tongue before releasing it and starting over, only with a different angle. His hands wove through my hair. I reached around his broad shoulders and pulled him in close, yet not nearly close enough. He broke the kiss and lifted me onto the counter so that I straddled his stomach, my legs wrapped around his back as he continued kissing down my neck, giving me shivers that made my toes curl.

  I ran my fingers through his hair as he tugged the neckline of my sweater down and nipped at my shoulder, giving me goose bumps. I
traced my fingers around his belt and tugged at his Henley, lifting the fabric up. He lifted his hands and broke the kiss only long enough to pull the shirt over his head before he attacked my lips once more. His bare skin was smooth against my palms as I memorized the lines and valleys. Warm heat radiated from him and I pressed in, wanting — needing to be closer.

  The heat from his back burned my hands, searing them. There was no way I could touch him enough, or pull him in tighter. As if reading my mind, he reached behind me, pulled me off the counter, and carried me toward the living room. His lips left mine just long enough to navigate the narrow hall of the kitchen and pass by the sofa until we reached his room. He met my lips once more, slowly kissing me as if savoring the sensation, the contact. Holding tightly to his warm back, I memorized his flavor — the scent of masculine spice that simply permeated the air around him. With his foot, he kicked the door fully open and then leaned back, breaking the kiss.

  With a smirk, he all but dropped me on the bed.

  “Hey!” I balanced myself, narrowing my eyes. But I didn’t have a chance to fully right myself before Kirby gave me a playful shove, making me lie back down with him hovering over me.

  “Much better.” He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling before he hungrily captured my mouth in a kiss that put all others before it to shame. His leg settled between mine, just enough of him on top of me to make the weigh erotic, but not enough to make him heavy. I lost myself in the depth of his kiss, in the way his hand slowly ran up the side of my ribs, gentle yet teasing all at once. His fingers would trace the edge of my bra then sweep away — tempting me, and provoking all at once. His teeth tugged my lip, pulling my attention from his hands to his kiss, then back again till my body was spinning with need.

  Over and over, I ran my hands over his bare back, marveling at the smooth warm skin, needing more.

  I traced his belt line, dipping my hands into his jeans I grabbed his firm ass.

  “You finally got your hands on my arse, after admiring it for so long,” he baited, pulling away from the kiss and smoothing a few strands of hair from my face.

  “Don’t talk.” I pulled his head back down, leaning forward to meet his lips in a searing kiss.

  And for once, Kirby didn’t argue.

  But he did start to lift my sweater over my belly. The cool air tickled yet chilled me all at once as the heat from his hand caressing my skin left a brand that seemed to echo throughout my body. He raised the fabric higher and I had the fleeting thought of being thankful I was wearing at least a semi sexy black bra. Kirby pulled away, giving me the room to sit up so he could pull off the barrier between us. With a flick of his wrist, the sweater was sailing to the floor and his mouth met mine once again.

  Immediately I could feel his warm skin against mine, and I leaned forward just enough for him to unhook the back of my bra. His hands reached around my back, then paused. He broke the kiss slowly; my lips left tingling from his assault as I glanced up.

  “Merry…”

  I could read it in his gaze, his blue eyes the color of a stormy sea and every bit as powerful and restless. There would be no going back.

  This… would change everything.

  I took a deep breath, watching his expression as I traced my hands down his carved stomach. I had to stop, waiting for him to move so I could reach his belt.

  His gaze softened and he shifted slightly allowing me access. My hands shook slightly as I slipped the belt through the buckle. Just as I was about to unbutton , he slipped away from my arms, standing.

  His eyes locked with mine as he slowly slid his jeans off, leaving a pair of black boxers that left nothing to the imagination.

  Good Lord.

  “I approve.” I nodded with a grin.

  Kirby chuckled, his face tinting a slight pink. “You haven’t seen nothing yet, lass. But I dinna think this is playin’ fair.” He regarded me with a wicked grin.

  I sat up slightly, knowing where he was going with this but wanting to simply… play.

  Because with Kirby… that’s what we did. We played.

  Why would this be any different?

  “What happened to all’s fair with love and war?” I asked, hitching a shoulder, owning how my bra accented the curve of my breasts.

  His gaze shifted to my chest, then back.

  “Eyes up here, Kirby.” I pointed to my face.

  “What can I say? I’m a rebel. I dinna follow rules. They are meant to be broken.” He stalked me on the bed, slowly kneeling then crawling toward me so that I had to back away.

  “Says the guy that had his own set of laminated rules on the outside of his door.” I played hard to get… with the intention of totally being caught.

  He rolled his eyes. “Am I ever going to live that down?”

  I giggled, quickly flipping my legs over the side of the bed and evading him. I stood up, and winked. “Nope.”

  “Is that the way of it?” He grinned.

  I hitched a shoulder.

  He smiled broadly, showing off his white teeth. His gaze didn’t leave me as he slid from the bed and stood, slowly walking around the bed toward me.

  “It won’t be that easy,” I shot back, trying to figure the best way out of reach.

  “Good things are never easy. But they’re worth it.” His mischievous grin melted into sincerity.

  I paused.

  He pounced.

  “Damn it!” I growled as he tackled me to the bed, hovering over me and pinning my wrists back against the mattress so I couldn’t move.

  “What did you say? Oh, yes. All is fair in love and war.” He leaned down, tracing his nose against my collarbone and then lower to the valley between my breasts.

  My pulse soared as I heard my heartbeat like a drum in my ears. My whole body smoldered as he nudged the edge of my bra away, licking me.

  I whimpered.

  “Not fair,” I gasped, arching against him as he continued to taste me.

  “Stop talking,” he teased, then started moving over to the other side, teasing a trail of kisses along the way.

  I was so distracted that I didn’t notice he’d released my hands till he paused, sucking in a breath.

  I realized I was digging my nails into his back. “I am so sorry!” I blinked, trying to bring his face into focus.

  He didn’t answer, but leaned forward to kiss my lips, immediately sweeping his tongue in and pressing his hard body deep against mine… as deep as me still being half clothed would allow.

  Stupid clothes.

  “Merry, dinna be sorry.” His brogue was thick as was the arousal in his tone. “Didn’t hurt, simply surprised me… in a verra, verra good way.” He kissed me deeply once more. Pressing in then shifting slightly so that he was beside me as his hands trailed down my belly and to my jeans. I put my hand over his, and he glanced up, waiting.

  “Your turn to be patient,” I whispered. I stood from the bed and slowly turned, feeling like he could watch my heart beating through my chest with as hard as it pounded as I watched him… watching me. Slowly I slipped my jeans off, taking everything else under them to the floor. I bit my lip, feeling both shy and powerful as his gaze raked across my almost naked body, his breathing growing faster.

  He watched in silent fascination as I unhooked my black bra and tossed it to the floor with the rest of my clothing. Then deliberately, I walked toward the bed.

  “Merry,” he whispered as he pulled me close, gently… softly. I expected him to kiss me, to do something about the little black boxers he was straining. But he simply pulled me into the lee of his body and held me tightly, possessively… and I fit like I belonged.

  Rain pattered against the window, and tenderly Kirby lifted my chin to meet my lips, savoring them.

  He tasted of cinnamon and apple, two of my favorite things.

  “Merry,” he whispered against my lips.

  I reached up and caressed the side of his face. “Hmm?” I asked as I gently tugged on his beard.

 
; “If I’m going to take you, I’m no’ giving you back.” He smoothed my hair away from my face, then folded it behind my ear, his blue eyes piercing.

  “Might as well make it official, then.” I nudged his nose with mine, lifting his head enough that I could kiss him.

  He returned the kiss with a pent-up passion that left me breathless, distracting me to the point where I almost missed the sound of his boxers hitting the floor.

  But nothing could distract me from the way all of his skin was flush against mine as he rested one leg over my hips, his other arm cradling my shoulder, then weaving through my hair. I turned, making us hip to hip and leaned into him, only to have him pull away slightly.

  “Overeager.” He nipped at my lips playfully.

  “Overachiever,” I teased.

  “Absolutely.” He chuckled as he ran his hands up and down my sides, cupping, teasing, and torturing me.

  Two could play that game. So I ran my fingers softly from his shoulders, down his side — but he jumped.

  I froze then watched him closely as I did it again.

  He sucked in a breath and twitched.

  “You’re ticklish!” I grinned wildly.

  Kirby growled and punished me with a seductive kiss. “Am not.”

  I leaned away, biting my lip. “Prove it.” I ran my fingers up his side again, this time meaning for it to tickle.

  He twitched.

  I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “So fun.” I ticked him again.

  He pulled away, a grin on his face. “You’re ticklish too.” He shot back then reached for my feet.

  “No! Not my feet!” I pulled them up and tucked them into the covers of the bed — then I stuck out my tongue.

  “Mature.” Kirby shook his head, but pulled me in close, nuzzling my neck and reminding me just how warm he was… everywhere.

  “Kirby?” He tugged on my earlobe with his teeth.

  “Hmm?” His hand moved to my breast and I gasped.

  “I forgot.”

  “Good.”

  He slipped all the rest of the way under the covers and balanced his weight on top of me, kissing, nipping, and waiting.

  “Merry?” He paused, lifting his head and watching me with an odd look of horror.

  “Yes?” I asked with a slightly impatient tone.