by Tia Louise
“I’m yours,” she gasped before dipping down to cover my mouth briefly. “I’ve been yours since that first kiss in the desert. Since the day you dropped everything and flew to comfort me when I called. Even these last few weeks, when I wasn’t sure how I felt, I was still yours. I’ll always be yours. It only hurt because I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else having any part of you.”
Rolling her back, I quickly changed my protection, sliding her thighs open and moving back inside her. She only sighed, eyes closed as I rocked our hips in a gentle motion, kissing her neck, her shoulders, nipping her breasts, loving every part of our bodies uniting in this way.
“You have every part of me,” I whispered against her skin as I kissed my way back to her mouth.
Our bodies moved faster, friction building until we were both coming again, blinding and gorgeous, her cries of release mixed with mine to form the only sounds we heard. My future, my home, my family—everything was right here in her arms.
Breathing fast, spent, and happy, I dropped down on the bed beside her. She scooted closer to me. “I have one thing to show you.”
“What?” I smiled, but she hopped up, heading to the dining room.
I took a moment to straighten the sheets, dispose of the condoms, and prop up the pillows. She was back again holding both our phones and climbed in beside me.
“What is it?” I said, smiling as I watched her nestle down, resting her head on my chest, fitting perfectly under my arm.
“I figured I’d better show this to you so there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings later.” She touched the face and pulled up a text marked with my name.
“Did you text me tonight?” I asked, tilting the face of her phone so I could see it.
“I had just pressed send when you appeared at my door.” She took my phone and put it in my hands. “I knew it was too soon for you to have gotten it.”
I switched over to my text messages. “What did you say?”
The light blinked, and I read what she wrote. It was one word.
“Remember how it works?” she said. “If it hurts too much?”
I nodded, realizing now she would never have sent me away. Warmth flooded my entire body as I met her eyes.
Bubblegum.
In that one word, I was back. We were both back. Safe and exactly where we belonged.
Epilogue
Elaine
Control. Choosing my own destiny. Firmly holding the reins—these have always been the most important things in my life.
They’re why I didn’t go to law school, they’re probably why I love teaching so much. They’re definitely why I stayed with Brian too long. He’d never posed a threat to my independence. He didn’t ask me for anything. He made no demands… And we shared the most uninspiring, unromantic, passionless relationship of my life.
Eight months with one man has changed everything.
With a sigh, I lean my head on my hand to watch him sleep. Patrick Knight. I lightly touch his smoky hazel eyes, now closed. My gaze travels up to his light-brown hair tipped with natural gold highlights I beg him not to trim. (They’re so beachy!)
My chest rises with the warmth of the overwhelming, out-of-control, completely hopeless love I have for him.
Another first for me—I do not fall hopelessly in love. In all of my relationships, I’m the dominant one, the one who calls the shots, decides when it’s time to have sex, when it’s time to end it. Not with this man.
His lined stomach rises and falls gently with his breathing, and my eyes continue their journey to where the sheet is draped across his waist. A memory of that first night I tied him up flickers through my mind, and heat flares between my legs. God, that had been wild. And incredibly hot. I could still see his muscles rippling as he struggled to get free, and a little shiver runs through me.
That edge between intense love and intense power is absolutely thrilling. He took me so hard… The next day, I’d run away like a scared little girl. I knew in that moment I could never say no to him. He would take everything from me, and I’d give it to him willingly. He was stronger than me, and I loved it. And it terrified me.
Sliding down on the mattress, I press my back into his side and hold up my left hand. A square-cut diamond engagement ring, surrounded by tiny baguettes is on my third finger. A walk on the beach, sunset, I didn’t know what he was doing until I felt the cool metal sliding on my finger. Of course I said yes.
“Still like your ring?” his voice is behind my shoulder, low and in my ear, and the sound registers in my core.
“Yes.” Turning my face to kiss his nose, his lovely eyes blink slowly, and I smile. “Did you sleep well?”
Strong arms go around my waist, holding me tightly against his chest, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away. Like that could ever happen.
“Mm-hm,” he breathes, kissing the crook of my neck. Everything inside me lights up at the mixture of love and desire in his voice. I don’t have to look down to know what he wants. I can feel it.
“I was just thinking…” A sneaky smile crosses my lips, and I scoot lower in his arms so my ass is pressed into his pelvis.
His hands slide down my stomach and his mouth is right at my ear sending a shiver to my toes. “I like where your head’s at.”
Every touch has my body tingling. He kisses my shoulder, sending desire blazing through me, and I feel him hard at my back. Dropping my head against his shoulder, I open my thighs.
“My head?” I tease, but it comes out as more of a moan.
“Among other things.” His fingers ripple across my clit as he fills me from behind, groaning with each thrust, taking me higher with each push.
I can’t help a little cry. He fills me so completely, the pleasure is almost painful. I’m trembling inside, and his fingers massaging my clit have me going blind.
With an exhaled swear, he thrusts deeper, and I can’t help arching my back to him. Heat, waves of delicious energy trembling down my legs, deep groans mixed with higher sighs. We’ve been together all sorts of ways, both of us happy to experiment, but the morning rush, the level of intense desire and urgency gets me every time.
He rolls me onto my stomach, moving faster between my legs, scrubbing my clit against the mattress. My whole body rocks with his thrusts, and the friction has me hotter and more tense… the tightness in my stomach, the growing pressure is so strong, all I know is if he stops, I’ll implode.
“Oh, god, more,” I beg as he groans, going deeper, harder.
Quivers start in my thighs until at last it tips over the edge. I’m crying out, arching up from the mattress; his head touches my shoulder with a deep groan as he comes. Another pump, and I almost don’t want him to stop, another and I’m pushing back against him. One more, and I’m crying out again.
He rocks me a few more times until at last we’re gasping and trembling, collapsing into each other’s arms amazed and oh, so satisfied. It takes a few moments to come down.
“I love waking up in your bed,” he says at last, and I can’t help laughing as his strong arms go around me, pulling me to him as we fall back.
“My bed or our bed?”
Patrick started out with his own place in Wilmington. I think his reason was to be sure we weren’t rushing into anything. That lasted about a week before he was living in my condo full-time.
“Can I say our bed now?” his brow creases.
“It’s been five months, and we’re engaged.” Bending my elbows, I prop up beside him. “I think you’d better.”
He smiles and slides my hair off my shoulder before leaning up quickly to kiss it. “Fine. Our bed.”
Pushing completely up, I kiss his lips then head to the bathroom to turn on the shower. “What are you doing today?” I call out, holding my hand under the water.
“Meeting Derek. He’s forcing me to wear a suit. A beach wedding, and I have to wear a suit.”
That makes me laugh. As handsome as he is, Patrick would wear jeans and polos everywhe
re if he could get away with it. “Their wedding is going to be gorgeous.”
I step into the shower, but I move quickly. Knowing my fiancé, I’ll never leave the house if he decides to join me, and while that isn’t a terrible prospect, I’ve got to meet Melissa. I’m out with a towel around me, and as I suspected, he’s already at the door wearing his bad boy grin.
“Shit,” he says.
I kiss him as I pass. “No time to play, Mr. Knight, I have to meet Melissa to taste cakes.”
“What! How did I draw the short straw?” He follows me back to the bedroom, sitting on the bed, watching as I dry off and dig through my underwear drawer. Finally, I throw my towel at his head, but he catches it.
“It’s not polite to stare.” I pull on a thong and fasten my bra, and I see that little gleam in his eye. Heat simmers low in my stomach. “Stop looking at me that way. I’ll be late.”
“Melissa won’t mind if you’re late.” The tone in his voice has me moving faster before my resolve wavers.
I drop the filmy sundress over my head and step into my wedge heels. “She will, and she’s got Aunt Bea here especially for today.”
He exhales dramatically. “So I get to try on suits and you get to eat cake.”
“You’ll get to sample our top three picks, and Derek has to choose his groom’s cake.” I lean down and kiss his forehead, skipping back before he catches me. “Tonight.”
“Pick one with bubblegum in it,” he calls after me.
“You’re still not using that word right!” I shake my head as I grab my keys and push out the door. He knows very well how Melissa is about being on time. She’s as bad as that Marine she’s marrying.
* * *
The stout little lady walks around Melissa’s gourmet kitchen as if she’s in heaven.
“It’s an error in justice that you have a kitchen like this and you don’t even cook,” she pretend-scolds.
“Aunt Bea” drove in from Baltimore just to spend the day with Melissa, discussing cake options and decoration choices. She’s practically Mel’s long lost fairy-godmother. The two have been close since before my best friend left Maryland, and Mel’s entire pregnancy, she’s sent her surprise cupcake care packages.
“Baking never interested me,” Mel sighs, leaning against the bar, her pregnant belly a basketball under the tight black dress she’s wearing.
Pressing my lips together, I can’t help but think of Kenny. She’s due to have Patrick’s baby any day now, and as much as I want to be okay with it, it still stings. My change in demeanor is not lost on my friend.
Melissa pushes off the bar right into my face. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head and attempt a smile. “Nothing! What are you talking about?”
Instantly, she has my arm in her steel grip. “Be right back, AB. Start without us.” And we’re out the door, headed down to the ocean.
Taking a deep breath as we approach the pounding surf, I’m again amazed at how karma will just come around and knock your socks off. Melissa spent five years with a lying prick of a husband, who slept with prostitutes and beat her, to living here, steps from the ocean, engaged to Derek Alexander, a.k.a., Mr. Sex on Two Legs, who is devoted to her and treats her like a queen. It’s extremely reassuring.
“Now,” she says, as we walk quickly down the surf, arms linked as the salty breeze pushes our hair back. “The truth, please. What’s wrong?”
Taking a deep breath, I just tell her. “I know it shouldn’t matter, but… Oh, god! I still can’t stop caring about this whole Kenny thing.”
We keep walking, and for a few moments, she doesn’t speak. “Lainey,” she finally says, “Patrick loves you so much. It’s so abundantly clear—”
“I know,” I groan, shaking my head. “And I’m sure it says something bad about me that I still don’t like it—”
“It says you’re a human being. You love Patrick, and she’s sharing something deeply personal with him. Something you hope to share with him one day.”
“She’s having his first son.” I can’t help it, but my eyes grow warm. “That hurts me so much.”
We stop and she pulls me into a hug. “I know.” Her voice is quiet, and for a moment we don’t move. We just stand there in our strange embrace, me trying to make room for her own growing baby bump.
“Speaking of,” I sniff, straightening up and pushing my tears away. “How are you feeling?”
“Five months pregnant.” Her voice is more of a groan. “It’s the second trimester. I’m supposed to be in the golden days, right?”
My eyes narrow. “Why does that sound like you’re not?”
“I think a man must’ve called it that. So far, I haven’t seen any of this pregnancy as being particularly golden.”
“And how’s Derek doing with it?”
She smiles that secret little smile they share and looks down, cheeks flushing. “He’s wonderful.”
“Oh my god, you must be the cutest pregnant couple on the planet!” I scoop her arm into mine as we start walking again.
“And you and Patrick are just cute period,” she adds. “You know I’m forever one thousand percent on Team Patrick.”
“I know,” I say as we continue down the shore.
“He made it possible to put Sloan away without me even saying a word.” Her tone becomes serious. “I can never thank him enough for that.”
I squeeze her hand. “He was so glad he could help you.”
“He did. Although I’m sorry that girl… Toni? I hated she had to take a hit.”
My lips press together. “No way, she was prepared for it, and she kicked Sloan’s ass. He never saw it coming, Patrick said.”
“They’re my superheroes.”
“Patrick and his friendly call girl.” I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Mel, what am I going to do with him?”
“Love him,” she declares, laughing. “Keep him.”
I shake my head, closing my eyes. “That’s the problem. I do love him. I love him too damn much.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“It’s not,” I sigh. “Except he gets away with everything.”
Melissa catches her long, brunette spirals in her hand and twists them over her shoulder, turning us back to her home. “That’s okay. Patrick’s a good boy.”
“Oh, no he’s not,” I snort, my blonde hair flying in the breeze.
“Well, then it’s even better,” she laughs. “You’ve never been particularly attracted to good boys anyway.”
We’re getting closer to her house, and I don’t want to lose my chance. I pull her to a stop. “I’m so glad you’re with Derek,” I say, giving her arm a squeeze. “He loves you so much. All of these good things that have happened for you make me so happy.”
“Thanks,” she nods, glowing again. “It’s all coming back around I think.”
“Have you convinced him to move here yet?” On her back porch, we stomp lightly to get the sand off our dry feet.
Derek and Mel have been arguing Princeton versus Wilmington since before they got engaged. Now it’s the only thing they don’t agree on… when they’re not debating baby names.
“I think so,” she says, arching a thin, dark brow. “Patrick being here helps me a lot. Another reason he’s my boy.”
I shake my head, but my phone is buzzing. “Hang on.”
Dashing back into the kitchen, I scoop it up.
“It’s been doing that since you left.” Bea’s leaning down, checking the contents of Melissa’s double oven.
“Thanks, Bea!” I sweep my finger across the face, continuing into Melissa’s living room. “Hello?”
“Elaine, finally!” Patrick’s voice sounds slightly panicked, and my pulse ticks higher.
“What’s going on?”
“Kenny’s in labor. I’ve got to go to Bayville now,” he says. “I hoped you’d come with me?”
My eyes fly around, searching for Melissa. I hear her in the kitchen, and step bac
k into the room. “Kenny’s having the baby,” I say, covering the phone. “Patrick wants me to go with him—”
“Go!” She cries, shooing me with her hands.
“Can you pick me up here?” I say into the phone.
“Be right there.”
* * *
Labor is not what it looks like on television shows. It’s fits and starts and awful and scary and ultimately incredible.
We spent the first few hours making small talk. Kenny’s labor started a week earlier than predicted, catching her parents in California. They’re flying back, and we hope they’ll make it in time. Patrick paces around the room, nervous. First he stands behind me, massaging my shoulders too hard, then Kenny grimaces and doubles over in pain, and he’s out in the hall trying to find a nurse.
Finally, her contractions become more regular and the labor really starts. I keep trying to leave the room, but with Kenny’s mother still somewhere between here and the West Coast, she keeps reaching for my hand. I stand by her shoulder, smoothing back her light brown hair. It’s grown much longer through her pregnancy. Her cheeks are rounder, too, and everything about her seems so young and vulnerable. I try to think of anything distracting to say.
“Patrick snores like a lumberjack.”
“He does not,” she laughs, but quickly gasps, cringing in agony.
“Are you sure you don’t want an epidural?” My voice is high, afraid, and she shakes her head fast.
“I don’t want him coming into the world all drugged up.” Then she screams, and my heart hits the floor.
Nurses are moving rapidly around the lower half of her body, sweeping mattress pads away and holding her legs.
“Oh, shit.” Patrick’s face is white as a ghost.
“Patrick! Get. Out!” Kenny yells, and he turns on his heel, pushing through the door at once.
Her face is wild, and I wonder if she wants me to go away, too. But then she’s back to shaking and crying and breathing fast—and squeezing the crap out of my hand.
“I’m sorry,” she says between rapid breaths. “I need to tell him I’m sorry.”
