The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1)

by Martin, R. C.

  And I wouldn’t take any of it back.

  “Hey, husband,” says my beautiful bride as she wraps her arms around my waist and looks up at me. Her hair is twisted and braided into an intricate bun-thing that hangs low at the nape of her neck, but a lone strand has managed to escape and I feel compelled to tuck it behind her ear, so I do. “How about a dance?”

  “I’ll dance with my wife anytime she wants me to.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that, Mr. Willis,” she says, grabbing hold of my suspenders as she backs her way onto the dance floor.

  “You do that, Mrs. Willis.”

  We did it. We really did it. There have been so many days that I was sure we would never get here; and yet, here we are. Mr. and Mrs. Beckham Michael Willis. When I stop to think about it—like really stop and forget about the guests and the seating chart and the DJ and the menu and the photographer and the cake and my dress and his tie and all of it—I’m overwhelmed with peace and happiness. I’ve wanted this for so long—to be his wife. Now that I am, I feel as though our story and our journey are what make this day perfect.

  We didn’t get here easily. We didn’t get here the way I wanted to or the way he wanted to—but we got here. The man I just married a couple hours ago, he’s not the man I fell in love with. He’s better. And the woman he married, she’s not the woman he feel in love with, either. I’m better. We’re ready—ready in a way that neither of us knew we could be. And as crazy as it may seem, I thank God all the time for the hard parts. Every tear, every argument, every jealous feeling, every lonely night, every hard season that we’ve ever faced, I thank God for it.

  Why?

  Because I’m thankful that He saw fit to make us like Him. We are not an easy people to love. God is capable of feeling—and has felt—everything we feel, towards us; and still, His love is beyond measure. Not only have I grown to appreciate that more, but I’ve learned to bestow that upon Beckham. There is so much freedom in love. It’s hard, sometimes, and I won’t deny that he has the ability to drive me crazy. But—but—he also has the ability to bring me so much joy.

  “What are you thinking about, babe?” he asks as we sway back and forth to the DJs current song selection.

  I inhale deeply and breathe out a wistful sigh as I look up into his blue eyes. “You make me happy.”

  “Oh, yeah?” A grin spreads across my face as I respond with a nod. “You make me happy, too.”

  “Does this day have to end? Can we just freeze time right now?”

  “Absolutely, not.” My eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his adamant reply and I pout my lips in jest. He smirks at me before he presses a kiss against my temple and then lowers his mouth to my ear. “I have every intention of making love to you tonight,” he whispers, pulling my body closer to his. “For the past hour, I’ve been trying to figure out the fastest way to loosen the twenty-nine buttons that hold the back of this dress together. Yes, I’ve counted. Twice.”

  I giggle into his chest, giddy at the thought of finally being able to love on my husband without abandon. I thought I’d be more nervous about it, and maybe even a little embarrassed, but I’m not. I’m just as excited as he is. I feel like we’ve waited so long.

  “Well, we’ve already cut the cake. Our room is just an elevator ride up…” I tease, looking up at him from beneath my eyelashes.

  “Don’t tempt me,” he mutters, touching his nose to mine. “You know our parents would kill us if we skipped out early. Besides, currently, my solution to the button issue is a pair of scissors—I thought you might be opposed to that, so I could use a few more brainstorming minutes.”

  “Scissors aren’t a bad idea. I mean, when else am I going to—” He cuts me off with a kiss and my laugh gets lost in his mouth. I know, when he flicks his tongue between my lips, that the next forty-five minutes we’re slated to stay in this ballroom will be the longest forty-five minutes of his life. He slides his hand around the back of my neck, supporting my head as he deepens the kiss. He smiles against my mouth when someone blows a wolf whistle and the room erupts in applause, cat-calls, and cheers. He resumes showering me with his affection for a moment longer and I relish every second. We’re allowed to be flamboyantly adorable and affectionate today. It is our wedding day, after all.

  “I love you, husband,” I murmur when he pulls away.

  “Mmhmm,” he hums, resting his forehead against mine. “I love you too, wife—my little tease. More than you know.”

  He smiles at me as I come undone against the locked door; he then moves to cover my mouth with his, in his attempt to muffle my cry, which cannot be silenced. My fingers, tangled in his auburn waves that are just long enough for me to grab hold of, grip him unrelentingly as I ride this wave of immense physical ecstasy. Before my body goes limp from pleasure, he finds his release. He buries his face in my neck as he moans my name over and over until he is spent.

  For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of our panting as we work to catch our breath. I’m afraid that my legs might give out if he sets me down, so I’m grateful that he doesn’t let me go right away. As he rubs his hands up and down my bare thighs, I make a mental note to thank Addie for choosing a dress that made this moment possible.

  A year ago, if someone told me that Sonny and I would be sneaking off for a quicky at my sister’s wedding, I would have laughed in their face. It’s incredible how love and marriage can change you. The truth is, situations like these are not just about adding adventure to our relationship, they’re also about intensifying intimacy. When we got married, sex was new for me; but it wasn’t new for Grayson. I struggled with that a little bit and then his counselor helped us come up with this idea.

  We call it our “To-Do” list. It’s essentially a list of various places or positions that both of us have never experienced before. I’ll admit that some of the things we’ve added to the list are quite ambitious; a few of our ideas are so bold that neither of us have managed to find the courage to try them. It doesn’t stop us from constantly contributing new challenges to the list, though. We figure we have the rest of our lives to check off every encounter we wish to experience.

  Sex in a public bathroom—Grayson’s idea, which took a lot of sweet talking and naughty coaxing on his part—was accomplished a few months go. Slutty wedding sex, on the other hand, was something I came up with about twenty minutes ago. For the first time since we closed ourselves inside, I look around the single-stall family restroom from over Sonny’s shoulder. I giggle and inadvertently tighten my grip around him as I realize, I will never be able to look at a family restroom sign ever again without thinking about having sex with my husband.

  “What’s so funny?” he murmurs, bringing his brilliant green gaze up to meet mine.

  “I think we just gave a new meaning to family restroom. Now, it’s a place where people practice making families.”

  He laughs with me and props his forehead against mine. “You are amazing. Remind me again how I got to be so lucky?”

  I grin at him as I place my left hand against his chest. “You put a ring on it.”

  “That I did,” he says with a chuckle. He wraps his hands around my hips and I know it’s time for me to release my legs from around his. He helps me down to my feet and then we both busy ourselves with straightening, tucking, and smoothing out each other’s clothing. Once we’re freshened up and presentable again, Grayson peeks his head out the door, to ensure the coast is clear, and then takes my hand as we make our exit.

  On our way back to the reception, he reaches for his phone. “What are you doing?” I ask, just out of curiosity.

  “Adding wedding sex to our list so that we can cross it off.”

  “Oh,” I murmur with a blush.

  “Shorty, why are you blushing?” he asks, bringing my hand up to his lips. He kisses the back of my palm before he continues. “It was your idea, after all.”

  “I don’t know,” I shrug, suddenly feeling bashful. “Do you think
people might figure it out?”

  “What? That the best man and the matron-of-honor ditched the reception to go hook-up?” I nod in response. “You know, it happens all the time. Fortunately for me, the matron-of-honor and my wife are one and the same.”

  “You got that right! Otherwise, you would have missed out on slutty wedding sex.”

  “Yes, well, what just happened in the bathroom is nothing in comparison to what I plan on doing with my wife later.”

  “Sonny!” I giggle as I gawk up at him. “It hasn’t even been five minutes since the last time we did it.”

  He stops me in the ballroom doorway and stands behind me as he pulls me against him. My eyes scan the crowd of family and friends that are here to celebrate Addie and Hammy’s nuptials, keeping watch in case we start to draw attention to ourselves. I can’t help but wonder if our absence has been noticed. I sincerely hope not. I soon forget about such concerns when Grayson lowers his mouth to whisper in my ear; my stomach tingles with anticipation.

  “Since when has one time ever been enough for me, sweetheart? You drive me crazy, Avery, and you know it—especially in this dress. So, yes, I’m already thinking about later, when I can take my time with you and explore every inch of your body.” I shiver against him and he chuckles before he reaches for my hand, once more. “Come on. Dance with me.”

  I follow him with pleasure. I love this man. My husband. Being married to him is better than I ever imagined that it could be. I can’t even really explain how incredible it is, knowing and trusting that he is my partner forever. This past year has brought about many changes and challenges, and having him with me every step of the way has brought us so much closer. I wonder if I’ll ever stop falling in love with him; I seriously doubt it. Moving away together and completing our first year in graduate school has been the hardest adventure I’ve ever been on. We’re changing and growing as life, and God, encourages us forward. What I cherish the most is that we’re not just growing as individuals, we’re evolving as a unit—as a family.

  I’m so grateful that we have each other. I know I come from a great family, which just got a little bigger today, and I’m happy to share that with Grayson—but I’m also thankful that he and I are now our own family. We’re not ready to have children yet, but that doesn’t make the two of us, together, any less of a family, and I love that. I love that I can be the woman in Grayson’s life that will never leave and who will love him unconditionally until my last breath. Just the same, I love that he is mine—always, vibrantly, entirely, reverently, mine—to have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, through sickness and health, in good times and in bad, until God claims us unto Him.

  Today, my best friend became my brother-in-law. I’ve considered him my brother for years; now it’s for real. My family is growing. Some days, I wake up and I look at Avery and I’m overwhelmed just knowing how much I’ve been blessed simply because I fell in love with the magnificent woman in my arms. I spent twelve years in a loveless home; twelve years with a stranger who biology declares is my father. My perception of family was completely skewed. Then I met Beck. Somehow, knowing him set me on a different path. A better path. The right path. Our friendship brought me to Christ; our friendship brought me to Avery; our friendship changed everything for me.

  I know I have siblings out there somewhere, but I will probably never know them. Rhonda took that opportunity away from me. While I’m trying to forgive her for that, too much time has passed. They aren’t my family and I don’t need them to be. Beckham is my brother now; and Addie and Kenzie are my sisters. In just a couple of weeks, Avery and I will be celebrating our one year anniversary. While she and I may be O’Conners, I feel like we’re also Grayson and Avery Grant, and Grayson and Avery Willis—our union is tied to a much bigger whole.

  This entire day has been pretty amazing—and not just because I have a wife who invited me to ravage her against the bathroom door a few minutes ago. I know that the past year has been hard for Beck and Addie, with him in Texas and her in Colorado Springs. Ave and I kind of felt their pain. We had each other, but we missed them, too. When we moved to Chicago, where we were both accepted into graduate programs, I know it was particularly difficult for Avery to be apart from Addison. I’m her husband, and I love her more than life itself, but I will never be able to fill Addison’s shoes.

  I know that on top of having to deal with a long distance relationship, Addie really missed her other half, as well. Now, I’m glad that long distance is a thing of the past for Mr. and Mrs. Willis and they can finally be together. It’s taken them a lot to get here, but they made it. I pray that they will know the happiness that I know.

  Marriage has turned out be unlike anything I ever imagined it could be. It’s hard. I won’t pretend that it’s not. I don’t think I could have done anything to prepare myself for the reality of marriage, because I’ve never really been around a good one. But no matter how hard it gets sometimes, I wouldn’t trade what I have with Avery for anything. She’s my world. For every difficult day we face, we have an exponential amount of blissfully happy moments. She’s my person and I am hers. Even though we’re miles and miles away from our family, we have each other. Our love and our commitment to one another makes wherever we are home.

  I’m still falling in love with her. I probably always will be. The best part is, I know she feels the same way.

  “Pst!” I’m pulled from out of my head by Claire, when she and Jack shuffle up beside us on the dance floor. It’s been so good to hang out with them this weekend. We haven’t had a chance to see them since our wedding.

  “Hey, guys,” greets Avery with a grin. “What’s up?”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure it’s not up now, but I know it was a minute ago. Don’t think I don’t know what you two were doing when you snuck off earlier.” Avery gasps and then buries her face in my chest as she moans in embarrassment. Jack laughs and I join in as I rub my hands up and down her back. “I can’t believe how you’ve corrupted our little angel,” says Claire with a wink. “Way to go.”

  When Avery looks up at me, her cheeks are my favorite shade of red. Claire thinks the innocence and purity inside of my girl is gone, but it’s not—and I hope that never changes.

  “Do you regret it?” I ask her, reaching up to lovingly run my knuckles down the side of her face. I know the answer; but I also know that having her say it out loud will help squash her momentary embarrassment over having gotten caught.

  “No,” she whispers. “I could never regret having you inside of me.”

  She slays me.

  Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of her. I’m half tempted to scoop her up into my arms and carry her up to our room right now—but I don’t. Instead, I lean down and press a chaste kiss against her lips. “Promise me something?”

  “Anything, my love.”

  “Stay this incredible always.”

  “I’ll try if you will.”

  “Deal.”

  Trevor and Daphne are up next! Here’s a sneak peek into Reckless Surrender, book 2 of the Made for Love series—Now Available!

  January 2006

  Trevor—19

  This is a hell of a way to spend my birthday. Saying goodbye to my brother. No—not just my brother. My father. My best friend. My partner in crime. My wingman.

  Then again—I guess here, now, he’s more than that. He’s also a solider. A marine. A man who has been called to serve our country in the war zone of Iraq. I should be proud. I should be brave; he’s earned his right to go. I just don’t have the capacity to feel those things right now. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. Currently, I’m just afraid. I’ve never been without him. Not like this.

  I have to keep reminding myself that this is what he wants. Something that he’s worked for. When 9/11 happened, he was only sixteen—but even then he knew that he wanted to enlist. It was never a question of which branch he would join. Our dad was a marine. Not that we ever got the chance to know hi
m.

  To us, mom and dad were just pretty faces in a picture frame. Some asshole driving drunk robbed us of our chance to share any sort of life with them. I was one. Rett was three. Our loss hasn’t really felt like a loss in a long time, more like an entire life in an alternate reality that we will never know. We’ve always had Grams, though. She raised us the best that she could, which was pretty damn good if you ask me. Even still, Rett wouldn’t leave me while I was in school. He wanted to stick around and make sure I graduated. As soon as I did, he started chasing his dreams.

  We followed him. Crystal and me.

  College was never really something I aimed for as I trudged my way through high school. Grams has been trying to convince me to give it a shot for a couple years now, but I hate the idea so much it makes me sick. I can’t imagine throwing money at an institution I abhor—and for what? A piece of paper that says I endured four more years of lectures, homework, and tests? Pass. I’m an artist. I don’t need school. What I need is to get my foot in the door. One day, I want to own my own tattoo parlor—but I know I have to get some experience under my belt first. Over the last six months, I’ve been doing just that. I’ve got a chair at a shop in town. Lucky for me, my big brother believes in my dreams even more than I do. When I said I wanted to follow him to California, he helped me pack.

  As soon as Crystal caught wind that I was moving, she insisted that she come too. She said that it would be better for me if she came; she could live with me and help me with rent. She’s a bank teller and she was sure she could get a transfer with little to no trouble at all. She also reminded me that I can’t cook shit and I’d starve without her. Every reason she gave was legit, but none of them addressed why she wanted to come—why she needed to come. The truth is, she’s in love with my brother. That’s all she had to say. Neither of us were going to stop her—least of all Rett.