Love Everlasting

by Tracey Alvarez

  Reid spread her thighs apart and wedged himself between them, taking his own sweet time with his fingers and his tongue. He made her pay, all right, taking every ounce of pleasure he could wring from her traitorous body. She couldn’t hold anything back as his mouth moved over her, his touch demanding nothing less than her complete surrender. She gave him that, too, climaxing so hard, so intensely that—screw self-preservation—she gave him her very soul.

  She was still whimpering his name when he moved back over her, making himself at home between her legs. He thrust into her, filling her sweetly to overflowing, and she wrapped shaky legs around his hips.

  “Darby.”

  Her eyes fluttered open and she read in his the very last thing she wanted to see. She clung to him, drawing his face down to hers and melding their lips together. He groaned, a raw, needy sound as she slid her tongue into his mouth and squeezed her internal muscles around him. Whatever he’d been about to say was swallowed up by the combustible heat they generated with each small stroke of his body within hers.

  It was better this way. Better not to wish for more on a shooting star or a Fairy Godmother.

  He came to her over and over. Hard, almost punishing thrusts, as if his body was trying to mark hers as his own. An exercise in futility as she already belonged to him. He rolled with her and seated her on top, his fingers digging into her hips, his face a contortion of pleasure.

  “I can’t last much longer. I’ve missed you too much,” he ground out. “Slow it down for us, baby.”

  Darby rolled her hips, eliciting another rough groan from him. She set her palms on his broad chest and pressed him into the mattress as she lifted her hips, inch by delicious inch. Gazing down at him, her body rose and fell in a steady rhythm. His throat worked and his gaze held hers, slicing away every last one of her defenses. Feeling raw and vulnerable, Darby moved faster, pulling them both toward an inevitable conclusion. She couldn’t slow it down now, any more than she could protect her heart from enclosing around Reid and making him part of herself.

  This time the orgasm mowed her down like a freight train. She cried out and Reid took over, folding himself upward to a sitting position and cradling her body with his as moments later he went over the edge with her.

  Reid woke in a tangle of sheets without Darby curled around him. His heart punched into his throat and his eyes popped open to sunshine streaming through the glass doors. Flashes of reflected light from Lake Wakatipu blinded him and he squinted, bracing himself to roll over to face the inevitable empty bed.

  They’d made love twice more during the night, each time more bittersweet than the last, though neither of them would admit it. So it wouldn’t have surprised him if in the wee hours of the early morning she’d gathered up her things and fled his hotel room.

  Yeah, he really was done with that Cinderella crap.

  He rolled over and found not an empty space but Darby sitting cross-legged beside him. Spots of color appeared on her cheeks as she realized she’d been caught staring. She was also wearing clothes, so he guessed he was about to witness her walk of shame.

  “Taking one last look at my ass, huh?”

  “It’s a hell of an ass.” Her hands were clasped loosely between her thighs, but the constant rubbing of one thumb along the bumps of her knuckles gave her away.

  “I can give you a better view than that.” He rolled out of the bed and sauntered into the en suite bathroom.

  He dialed the shower temperature to lobster-boiling and stepped under the spray. If he scrubbed himself hard enough with the complimentary shower gel, maybe he could erase the scent of her from his very pores.

  “Detox, my ass,” he muttered. “Fell right back off the wagon. Damn.”

  He speared a sideways glance at the bathroom door. She’d be long gone, and this time she had no excuse for leaving anything behind. Including her shoes. Sluicing bubbles off his skin, he choked out a laugh. She’d left him behind again, though. Hell yeah. Without a backward glance.

  He was such a sucker. Dumb enough to believe when she’d appeared at the wedding ceremony yesterday—in true Darby fashion—that her presence meant she’d reconsidered. That she loved him, too.

  The irony, which dug into him like a fistful of pins, was he was pretty sure she did. Yet, was it enough?

  Reid twisted the mixer off and reached for a towel. After wrapping it around his hips, he continued his morning routine, all the while with one ear cocked toward the bathroom door. From the other side, silence.

  That was that, then.

  He dumped the towel and stepped out of the bathroom naked. Darby leaned against the doorframe leading onto the balcony, staring out at the lake. His heart plummeted into his bare feet then yo-yoed into his throat. She was still here.

  She half turned toward him, her mouth curving in a sweet smile that, if he could bottle it, he’d savor every day. “Nice view.”

  He crossed to his overnight bag and dressed quickly, never taking his eyes off her. The sunlight sifted through her short hair, turning each strand it touched into burnished copper. Her lips were pink and still a little puffy from his kisses, and faint shadows marred the tender skin under her eyes. They hadn’t got much sleep last night—but nothing that a good breakfast and a couple of cups of coffee wouldn’t sort.

  He grinned at her. “Pity to cover it up, but I don’t think Lynn wants to see my bare butt among the omelets and fresh fruit selection.”

  Darby’s gaze dropped, landing somewhere near his bare feet. “Oh. I’m sorry, I thought it’d be better if I just hit the road.”

  Reid’s fingers stilled, a shirt button halfway in, halfway out. “You’re not coming to breakfast?”

  She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes. “I’d end up saying the wrong thing to your aunt. About us,” she added after a beat.

  “Right.” Heat, worse than a blast from a steam iron, crawled up his face. “Fair call.”

  “And, uh, I need to pick Duke up from my neighbor who kept him for the night.” She took an edging step sideways, her gaze flicking up to his.

  Something she saw on his face caused her to freeze. Maybe it was the chill spreading through him, turning the first flush of heat into ice. He managed to finish shoving the button through the hole without tearing the fabric to shreds.

  She shot another glance in his direction, where he had unintentionally blocked her path to the hotel room’s outer door.

  Message received, Darby. Loud and clear. She wanted to take her leave, but this time…

  Reid snatched up the key card and shoved it in his pants pocket.

  This time he would be the one walking away.

  “Drive safely,” he said and yanked open the door. “Make sure you’ve got your car keys on your way out.”

  He stepped into the hallway and drew the door shut. Quietly. Like he didn’t want to turn and punch a fist through it.

  It took him all the way to the elevator before he realized he’d left his shoes behind.

  Chapter 18

  They ambushed Darby the week before Christmas. After puppy preschool when she was still a gooey mess from the extreme cuteness that was baby canines.

  Timing their entrance exactly thirty seconds after the last puppy and owner left the waiting room, Marianne and MacKenna sneaked inside while Darby was dropping chew toys back into a basket.

  “Sorry, we’re about to—” She half turned on hands and knees toward the door. “Oh.” Her gaze skipped from Marianne—flipping the open sign over to closed—to MacKenna, who leaned against a display shelf with a girl, you’ve done it now look on her face.

  Oh, crap.

  “Is this where you jump me and rob the place?” She rocked back to sit on her heels and folded her arms. “’Cause I gotta warn you, Duke the killer guard dog is on duty.”

  Duke was taking a well-earned nap under a chair. Hearing his name, he lifted his head to eyeball the intruders, yawned, and laid his muzzle back on his front paws.

  Marianne
crossed to one of the waiting-room chairs and sat, primly crossing her legs and patting the seat of the chair next to her. “This is where MacKenna and I have a nice chat with you while you sit down, shut up, and listen.”

  “Considering your friend’s occupation, you can consider this a come-to-Jesus chat,” MacKenna said, not making a move away from the door as if she suspected—somewhat correctly—that Darby might make a break for it.

  And could she guess the topic of this come-to-Jesus chat? Uh, yeah, she could.

  Darby’s gaze skipped between them. “How do you two even know each other?”

  Blatant stalling at its best.

  “I called her, we bonded over a common interest, and here we are,” Marianne said. “Now, sit.”

  She said it in such a firm tone that sounds of claws on linoleum came from under the chair as Duke scrambled to his feet and obediently sat.

  “Woof,” grumbled Darby, but she stood, brushed puppy hair off her legs, and sat on the chair next to Marianne.

  “You’ve put on a little weight.” MacKenna examined her with the critical eye of a woman who worked with form-fitting gowns every day.

  “Hey—rude.” Darby sat up straight, automatically sucking in her tummy, which, okay, was showing some of the effects of too many late-night raids on the ice cream section of her freezer.

  “She has,” Marianne agreed, as if Darby wasn’t sitting right beside her. “Last week the Boobie Sisters got together and she inhaled an even half dozen of Brenda’s cupcakes.”

  “They were mini red velvet with cream cheese frosting cupcakes.” Darby threw up her hands. “And excuse me, Mrs. Pot calling out the kettle for being black, you ate four and sneaked another two into your handbag.”

  Marianne sent her a withering glance. “That was to share, and the point is I have a man who loves me to share them with.”

  “The point?” Like Darby didn’t know where this was going.

  “The point is you’d have a man who loves you to share cupcakes with if you weren’t being a self-absorbed, miserable cow,” said MacKenna, still guarding the doorway.

  Darby’s jaw unhinged and she shot a sideways glance at Marianne to see if her friend was about to tear this new ally of hers a new one. Marianne only raised an eyebrow at Darby, so she rose jerkily to her feet, a little stung at MacKenna’s harshness and intending to give the tiny blonde a piece of her mind. Instead, she was mortified to discover her eyes were leaking and her chest had locked up tight.

  “I thought we were friends.” It came out as a high-pitched, childish wail, and Darby stamped her foot in frustration at not being able to control her emotions, making Duke bark. “Damn. Look what you’ve made me do.”

  “I am your friend.” MacKenna gave an epic eye roll. “Which is why I’m part of this intervention, so sit down before you fall down.”

  Darby sat. Again. And wiped her knuckles across her eyes as MacKenna came and took the chair on her other side.

  “I don’t need an intervention,” Darby said.

  “Yes, you do.” MacKenna and Marianne spoke together, followed by the exclamation, “Jinx!”

  “Kill me now.” Darby slouched in her chair and turned her gaze up to the ceiling. “I’m having flashbacks to my first year at high school. Not a fun time for me either, by the way. Teenage girls can be total bitches.”

  “So can friends who are worried about you,” said Marianne. “And we care enough about you—”

  “And Reid,” said MacKenna.

  “And Reid,” Marianne continued, “to risk your wrath by pointing out the obvious. You’re miserable without each other.”

  Darby wriggled upright, her head snapping toward MacKenna. “Reid’s miserable?”

  “Of course he is.” MacKenna half turned on the plastic seat and crossed her legs—not so gently kicking Darby’s shin in the process. “Laura messaged me last week to say he came into work for a client meeting wearing cargo shorts and an ancient holey tee shirt. She had to threaten to dump all his herbal tea into the garbage to get him to go home and get changed.”

  Reid in any shirt with holes? Darby’s mouth went paper dry. That was some serious stuff right there. She licked her lips. “That sounds more distracted than miserable.”

  “Oh, really?” MacKenna’s foot bounced, lightly tapping Darby’s shin with every up and down motion. “And does distracted explain the wrecked look in his eyes when we video chat? Or how when your name is mentioned he shuts down and starts talking about cricket runs or some gross medical procedure that I should ask Joe about? Or how he’s stopped talking about inviting you to Oban to spend Christmas with us all now?” The foot bouncing stopped and she leaned forward, spearing Darby with the gaze of a mother lion defending her cub. “I trusted you with my best friend, and you broke him.”

  Swallowing suddenly became impossible because Darby’s throat contained a lump the size of a golf ball. She blinked back tears and sucked in a wobbly breath, meeting MacKenna’s fierceness with a concrete determination of her own. “I’m sorry. But it’s better this way.”

  “Better for who?” MacKenna demanded.

  Better for whom, Darby automatically corrected and then winced, dropping her face into her hands and staring at the floor between her knees. Duke wriggled out on his belly and lay between her feet, resting his chin on the toes of her shoes.

  “It appears it’s not better for either of you,” Marianne said quietly. “Not when it’s obvious to everyone who loves you both that you should be together.”

  “We can’t.” Darby spoke into her hands.

  “The only way that response makes sense is if you don’t love him,” MacKenna said. “So do you love him or not?”

  “I do love him,” Darby said. “But I can’t—” She whooped in a breath and sat up, counting to five to try and prevent more tears. “Dammit, you both know why I can’t.” She glared at MacKenna. “As his best friend, you should’ve smacked him upside the head and shoved him into the arms of a woman who had a better shot of reaching the age of retirement homes and false teeth.”

  MacKenna snorted out a laugh. “Have you ever tried telling a man not to go after a woman he wants? Good luck with that.” She shook her head. “Reid’s a grown-ass man who makes his own decisions. And for better or worse, he’s decided that you’re the woman for him.”

  “I’m the wrong woman for him,” Darby said. “After what he went through with his mum, how could I possibly put someone I love through that again?”

  “Gurl, you’ve got to stop playing that damn cancer card,” Marianne said. “It’s grown real old and tatty around the edges from too much use.”

  Darby swung around on her seat to face Marianne, once again her jaw sagging. “What?”

  Marianne shrugged. “You tell us you moved to Invercargill so you wouldn’t feel like the cancer chick.” Marianne actually used finger quotes as she said it. “Yet you allow that monkey on your back to continue whispering fear into your heart. You use it as an excuse not to take a chance on love.”

  Darby shut her mouth—because apparently it had gone from a little bit open to catching-insects open—and blinked. Was fear at the root of what was holding her back? She wasn’t quite ready to concede defeat yet. “That monkey, as you put it, might not be done with me yet.”

  “And if he isn’t, you and Reid would deal with it together,” Marianne said.

  “He’s got some pretty broad shoulders, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” A sliver of amusement lightened the serious tone of MacKenna’s voice. “He may be as pretty as spun sugar, but he’s solid steel to the core.”

  “I couldn’t bear to lose him,” Darby whispered. “And if he really does love me as much as I love him, then he couldn’t bear to lose me either.”

  This time it was Marianne who snorted. “Sweetie, we all lose the ones we love eventually. We’re only mere mortals, after all. The trick is squeezing a lifetime of love into however many years we’re granted.”

  “Preach it, Sister Marian
ne,” MacKenna said. “And amen, hallelujah, and all that stuff. Now, while Darby’s processing all this collective wisdom, can we get out of here and get Mexican for lunch?” She shot a glance at Darby with a sly smile. “You’re buying as a thank you to us for acting as your fairy godmothers, right?”

  “Right.” Darby forced a smile on her face.

  “And as a fairy godmother I’ll start by magicking up some margaritas.” Marianne jumped up and tugged on Darby’s arm.

  “Mine better be a virgin,” Darby muttered, but let her friend pull her upright.

  Because any alcohol might loosen the last of her inhibitions and send her running to prostrate herself at Reid’s feet, begging for another chance.

  Christmas Eve, and the weather outside had gone beyond frightful into the depressing.

  Darby declined after-work drinks with her colleagues, using the pacifying parental phone call as an excuse. Her parents were at first a little put out when she’d called two days ago to say she wouldn’t be coming home for Christmas, and then tentatively thrilled when she admitted she’d met someone who she hoped to spend the holiday with.

  However, so far, hopes hadn’t eventuated into taking any kind of action. Until tonight. Tonight she’d hauled up her big-girl panties and was headed to Reid’s to take the bull by the horns, aka grovelling her pink-panty-covered butt off.

  Yes, she’d worn her lucky pink ones. Hadn’t they worked well for her so far?

  She drove past Esk Street to see the sparkly holiday lights and the decorated store windows, hoping the festiveness would lighten the knot in her stomach. Traffic was light, almost nonexistent, as the freak summer storm that had blown up from Antarctica caused people to stay tucked up warm at home.

  Spots of rain splattered against the windshield as she found a park outside Reid’s building. There were no lights on inside, but she gamely rang the doorbell. When he didn’t respond, she walked around to his private entrance. The drapes were drawn across the glass sliders, but she knocked and knocked until her knuckles ached.