To Be Your Last

by Rae Kennedy

  Colin pulls back, poised over me and gazing at me with hooded eyes. His dark hair is going all directions, ravaged by my hands, and his face is mostly in shadow.

  “I love your pink lips,” he pants.

  He presses a chaste kiss to them.

  “I love your pink-tipped breasts.”

  He kisses down the curve of one breast to lick and kiss a peaked nipple before sucking on the other and drawing a pained moan from me. He hums with desire.

  “And I really love your pretty pink pussy.”

  He continues kissing down my quivering belly, worshipping my body. Every touch of his lips leaves a path of tingling fire in its wake. His kisses are different this time because he doesn’t just want me. He loves me. And I can feel that love in each tender, reverent caress.

  His stubbled jaw brushes lightly along the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh and then he kisses me there. Tentatively at first. Teasing.

  Warmth blooms under my skin, the ache, the need deep inside me growing until I spread my legs as wide as they will go, urging him further.

  And then his mouth is there, wet and hot, licking my throbbing center with fervor.

  I’m completely open for him and I let go, lost in the sensations. When my climax comes, it’s strong and fast and unexpected and I scream out. “Oh fuck...Colin...yes.”

  I’m still coming down off my orgasm when he crawls over me and slides inside my wet pussy, his hard cock filling me so perfectly that when he’s fully seated I let out an “oomph.”

  He moans too.

  “Fuck. You feel so good. So tight.”

  He pushes in and out of me harder.

  I rock my hips up to meet each of his thrusts, and he tells me how sexy I am and how amazing each clench of my pussy feels around him. He tells me how much he loves me and how I’m his.

  “God, Gray, you’re going to make me come so fast.”

  Then he comes hard, groaning my name, tensing and shaking with his release.

  Our bodies are slick with sweat when it’s done, and we hold each other while our heartbeats steady themselves.

  I kiss his salty skin along his collarbone and over the tattoos on his neck to his jaw.

  “I want you inside me every night,” I breathe.

  “I think I can make that happen,” he says with an impish grin on his lips.

  And then he rocks back into me. His hips rolling in a slow, methodical rhythm.

  “Colin you’re—oh fuck—you’re still hard.”

  “Mm hmm.”

  He kisses me long and deep as we make love slowly this time, savoring the feel of our bodies uniting along with our spirits. If there’s a heaven, I don’t need to experience it because nothing could be better than this.

  * * *

  We’re pulled out of our dozing by a quiet buzzing. Colin untangles his naked limbs from mine to fish his phone out of his pants, which ended up somewhere on the floor between the bed and desk. The screen lights up his face as he reads and smiles to himself.

  “What is it?”

  He hands me his phone and I read through several missed texts.

  Joey: Just checking in, did Gracie decide yet?

  Dean: Is Gracie coming? Don’t mess this up Col, we just got her back

  Logan: We know your plane landed. Is Gracie with you?

  Almost an hour later, there’s another text from Logan.

  Logan: Never mind. My suite is right next to yours and I can hear both of you. Loudly.

  I’m blushing even as I fail to contain my laughter. Colin smiles too. His big, beautiful smile.

  I close out of the texts and then I see the picture he has as his phone’s wallpaper. It’s the picture of all five of us in front of the bean sculpture at the end of our blissful day in Chicago two years ago.

  “I love this picture,” I say.

  “Me too.” Colin takes the phone and looks at our faces for a minute. “This was the best day of my life. Until the end when it became my worst. A lot has changed since this picture. Everything, really.”

  He looks to me, his expression serious. “It won’t be easy being with me. I don’t come with a quiet, peaceful life.”

  I take his hands in mine. “I don’t need a quiet life.”

  “Okay.” He lies back and pulls me to his chest. He kisses my head and whispers into my hair. “I would understand if you change your mind.”

  “I’m not going to change my mind about you.”

  He strokes through my hair as I listen to the steady rhythm of his heart.

  “What I’m trying to say is, I won’t let anything to come between us again. I’d quit the band tomorrow if that’s what it took.”

  I prop myself up on my elbow to look at him.

  “What?” I’m stunned by the conviction in his voice. “I don’t want you to do that. The band is your dream. You’ve worked so hard for it.”

  “It was my dream. I dreamt about it for half my life. And once I got it—made it big, the fans, the fame, the fortune—all I thought about was you. Honestly, never at one point in the last two years have I been as happy as I was in that picture.”

  The confession has my throat tightening. “Really?”

  He grins at me lopsided as he combs his fingers through my hair. “Yes.”

  “Well, I'll never make you choose. We can have both.”

  “What about you? Do you have something you want to do?”

  I haven’t thought too much about my future. I’ve been mostly taking everything as it comes. One class at a time, one bill at a time.

  “I don’t know. I have thought about putting a poetry collection together and trying to get it published, but it didn’t seem like a very practical career path.”

  “Fuck practical. That sounds so cool.”

  He kisses me hard and we settle under the covers, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Ever since graduating high school, I’ve felt like I was floating through life, not really sure where I was going or what I should do. After my original plan failed spectacularly, I felt out of control. I’ve been trying to regain that control these last two years but never have I felt like this. Like I’m in exactly the right place, my feet firmly on the ground.

  And it’s him. He’s my anchor, my comfort. And I know no matter how high I fly, he’ll be there. I don’t have to be in control and I don’t have to be afraid of trying or failing or falling, because with him I am safe.

  I am loved.

  I am home.

  * * *

  Adrenaline-fueled butterflies flutter in my stomach as I stand behind the huge scaffolding and look out beyond to the outdoor amphitheater where thousands of people are gathered on the grass and crowding around the stage. I wipe my palms on the front of my cut-off shorts.

  The sun is low in the hazy turquoise sky, glowing around Colin. He’s standing front and center, making all of his edges fuzzy. He finishes the song and glances back to me before speaking into the mic. His voice is deep and clear and exuberant.

  “I’m going to bring out a very special guest. You’ve probably heard rumors about her, theories. I’m generally pretty private but I want to finally introduce her to all of you.”

  The crowd goes wild as I walk out. Colin breaks into the biggest, most gorgeous smile. The sun. He is the sun and the moon and I feel the gravity anchoring myself to him and nothing has ever felt so right as when I cross the stage to his open arms.

  And though he's addressing the crowd, he doesn’t take his eyes off me. “This is Gray. She’s my home, my heart, my everything.”

  He leans in and kisses me. A slow kiss that deepens and intensifies and takes my breath away. I fist my hands in his shirt, holding on with everything I have as the crowd erupts behind us.

  I’m hardly aware as the other members of the band shuffle around us with their instruments and start to play the first notes of our song.

  Books by Rae Kennedy:

  To Be Your Girl (To Be Yours #1)

  To Be Your Wife (To Be You
rs #2)

  To Be Your Last (To Be Yours #3)

  To Be Your Only (To Be Yours #4)

  If you enjoyed this book I’d appreciate a quick review on Amazon! Reviews help authors in so many ways and will ensure I can continue writing these books I love so much.

  Keep reading for a preview of Kyla’s story, To Be Your Only. Look for it Fall 2020

  If you want to know when Rae Kennedy has a new release or sale sign up to receive alerts right to your inbox here!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Rae has always been a creator. She has degrees in Architecture and Interior Design but also loves to draw, paint, bake, and, of course, write. A hopeless romantic, she’s been married to her high school sweetheart for ten years. Together they have three children and live in the Pacific Northwest.

  For more info and a complete list of books, visit http://www.raekennedyauthor.com

  TO BE YOUR ONLY

  CHAPTER 1

  I lick my fork clean of the decadent chocolate frosting and drop it to my plate next to the remnants of my second slice of cake. Yeah, I had two pieces of cake, no one is at the cake table tallying how many each person has. There is no cake gatekeeper. Besides, there were two different kinds of cake—the bride’s cake and the groom’s cake, I can’t be expected to pick, well actually, I did pick, I chose both. And I’m the type of girl who likes to have my cake and eat it too. And right now, the piece of cake that I want is Wes.

  “I’m going to go talk to him,” I say as I stand from the table.

  Gracie—the Bonnie to my Clyde, the Thelma to my Louise, the Syd to my Nancy—fuck, do they all die at the end? I can’t remember but I think they all die at the end. Anyway, Gracie—my best friend, who doesn’t die at the end—gives me a little squeal and a thumbs up.

  “Good luck!”

  I strut through the grass toward him. Strut would be a loose term here, because, can one really strut while wearing heels in grass when your left heel sinks into the earth on every third step? Well, I’m making it work. Remember your training. Shoulders back, suck in the tummy. Oomph. Definitely ate to much potato salad.

  Wes is standing near the dancefloor talking with Gracie’s older brother, Eric. Neither of them brought a date to the wedding, thank God, because if I had to spend the evening watching Wes dance with someone else I’d probably tear my hair out. I already had to watch him date Gracie’s older sister, Court, for four years. Four fucking years—much to the chagrin of my tender, pre-teen heart.

  And now, on Court’s wedding day, it is finally going to be my turn. I mean, they broke up five years ago and now she is married, he can’t possibly pine over her any longer. Right? I’ve hoped and wished and dreamed these last few years as I became a woman that Wes would finally forget her and notice me, but he hasn’t. He sees Gracie as a kid sister and I am just Gracie’s friend, sidekick, the weird girl who always tags along and never shuts up. But not tonight.

  Tonight is my night. Tonight, he is going to notice the shit out of me.

  “Hi,” I say as I stand in front of them, directing my smile to Wes and trying to resist the urge to tell him how nice he looks in his suit.

  Because he looks fucking fantastic in this suit. It’s navy and the pants cling to his muscular thighs, the jacket makes his shoulders look even more broad. He isn’t wearing a tie, just a light blue dress shirt with the top two buttons undone revealing a hint of his toned, tan chest. But if I tell him about how I like his suit I will probably start spewing about how his shirt is the exact same shade as his eyes. His gorgeous, beautiful, perfect eyes.

  “Rosenbaum,” Eric says.

  I glace to him, narrowing my eyes. “Gallagher,” I return flatly before gazing back to Wes.

  “Hey Kyla.” Wes flashes me his bright white smile and my uterus flutters. It definitely does, that’s a real thing.

  “You look real nice tonight.” Wes glances down at my dress briefly before returning to my face. He’s too gentlemanly to blatantly ogle me. Even though my boobs are right here—like, they look amazing in this dress, not going to lie.

  “What are these?” Eric flicks my earring.

  I reflexively smack his hand away and glare at him. “They’re peacock feathers.”

  “Huh.” He looks at my earrings then down to my dress, definitely lingering on my legs and boobs. He shrugs. “They match your dress. It’s a good color on you.”

  Wrong. This dress is the perfect color on me. It’s a deep emerald green that compliments my dark auburn hair and fair skin to perfection. I know my colors, and I look best in a Fall color palette, particularly jewel tones.

  “Thanks,” I say, keeping my tone even, then turn back to Wes.

  Ah, Wes. He makes the smile return to my face. “I noticed you haven’t danced all night and neither have I and I was wondering if you’d like to dance with me?” There, that’s how a normal person might ask someone to dance, isn’t it?

  Wes opens his mouth to respond when Eric cuts in.

  “I’ll dance with you.”

  I tamp down the desire to growl at him. “I wasn’t asking you.”

  I turn back to Wes, giving him a sweet smile.

  “Are you sure?” Eric interjects, forcing my attention back to him.

  Him and his stupid little smirk. He thinks he’s so funny. Funny looking maybe. Well, I used to think he was funny looking—short, wiry, bright red hair. But he has sort of grown into his looks. He’s still a head shorter than Wes but he has filled out quite a bit and his face is symmetrical or whatever. He has a nice looking mouth—but I only notice that because I’m constantly looking at the stupid little grin he always has because he’s constantly laughing at his own dumb jokes.

  “Yes, I’m sure I know who I was talking to.” I glower at him before looking back to Wes. “So, dance?”

  He looks between Eric and me for a second.

  “Uh, sure I’ll dance with you.”

  I beam at him and grab his hand before he has a chance to change his mind. “Let’s go they just started a new song!” I turn and head to the dance floor with determination, Wes following behind, my hand firmly wrapped around his.

  I lead him to the middle of the dancefloor. The band is playing a slow song. The sky is black and strings of lights hang overhead as a warm summer breeze tickles across my skin. I wrap my arms around his neck, resting them on his muscular shoulders and he places his hands lightly on my waist. It’s the perfect romantic moment for him to suddenly realize how wonderful I am and that we should totally be together. Seriously, fall in love with me already!

  We sway gently to the music, surrounded by several other couples. Wes’s movements are small, little steps, a slight roll of his shoulders. It’s basically high school dance style slow-dancing, but that’s okay because Wes is dancing with me and everything is magical. I take a step closer and swing my hips a bit to entice him to loosen up a bit. He gives me the cutest little smile and then looks out into the night as the music plays on.

  And I think he just tightened his hands around my waist more? Could have imagined it, I’m choosing to believe otherwise.

  While he’s not looking at me I take the time to appreciate his gorgeousness from up close. I haven’t been this close to him since that time in eighth grade when he helped me up onto a horse—and then had to promptly get me back down again because I was terrified. His neck is thick and muscular like rest of his body and tanned from working hard outside all day. His face is basically the definition of male beauty and what every sculptor who attempts to capture the perfect male specimen would aim to achieve. But they couldn’t possibly do him justice, so they should stop trying.

  His chin is strong with a little cleft in it. His nose is exactly right with just a slight curve on the left side from when his nose was broken during a football game his senior year—he still completed that pass, by the way. His eyes are baby blue, framed by the cutest blond eyelashes. His forehead is broad and masculine and his blond hair is short but when he lets it get a little
longer it starts to curl.

  “You’re still working on the ranch for Gracie’s dad right?” I already know for a fact that he is, but hey, got to start somewhere.

  “Yeah, of course.” His eyebrows knit together slightly, like he’s confused by the question. Bah, of course he knows I know this.

  “Just making sure, haven’t really been around the ranch much the last year since Gracie was gone at school.”

  “Oh right, yeah. Gosh, it’s crazy that you two are old enough to be in college now. Did you go to university too?”

  “No, I stuck around here.”

  “I know how that is. But it’s nice to be home, yeah?”

  I nod. “It is.”

  We dance in silence for a minute, we are at arm’s length again, even though I swear I closed some of this distance earlier.

  “So, are you still working at the diner?” he asks.

  “No, I got fired.”

  “Fired? Doesn’t your family own it?”

  “Yeah. My mom fired me after I dumped the entire contents of a large strawberry milkshake over Jimmy Rogers’s head. Some may or may not have splashed onto Emmie Miller’s face as well. Mom claims the ‘accidental’ nature of it getting on Emmie is up for debate but I staunchly maintain my innocence.”

  Wes’s eyes widen. “Wow. Well, I’m sure whatever Jimmy did, it was well-deserved.”

  “Oh it was. He and I made out in the bowling alley parking lot—” okay, we did a little more than make out, but I’m sure my future husband doesn’t want to hear those details “—and then he asked me to go out with him that Friday night. I told him I couldn’t do Friday since I was working, but he said he had a family party Saturday—it was this whole thing. So anyway, come Friday night he walks into the diner with his arm around Emmie looking all smug and when they asked for a strawberry shake with two straws so they could share I lost my shit.”

  “Rightly so.” Wes nods approvingly. “Sounds like Jimmy has some growing up to do. Don’t waste your time on guys like that, when the right one comes along he won’t treat you like second best.”