“Good morning,” she said, and put her hands on his shoulders. Then she raised herself on tiptoe and kissed him.
Water rushed over them both, making their skin slick. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his chest. He kissed her back, his mouth hard against hers. He thrust his tongue inside, his movements nearly frantic. His hands dropped to her butt and he squeezed. She arched against him, then moaned when she realized he was already hard.
The feel of his erection pulsing against her stomach sent heat pouring through her body. She rubbed against him, wanting more, wanting him to touch her everywhere. She was hungry. No, she was desperate.
He pulled back from their kiss and lowered his head to her breasts. He drew deeply on her right nipple, licking as he sucked. She dropped her head back and gave in to the heat burning inside her. As he shifted to her other nipple, she cupped his head to hold him in place. He eased his hand between her legs and slipped a finger inside her. Involuntarily, she clamped her muscles around him, wanting so much more than that.
He raised his head. “You’re wet.”
Really? They were going to have a conversation now? “We’re in the shower. What else would I be?”
“Not that kind of wet. You want me.”
She heard it then, the combination of relief and apprehension. Because he hadn’t been sure that this was real. He hadn’t known if he could trust her or not.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Colin, I’m so sorry. For everything.”
“Me, too,” he told her. “For turning you down before.” He swore. “I needed to know you wanted to be with me, that you weren’t just going through the motions. It nearly killed me.”
Her, too, but she’d needed to know she couldn’t pretend her way back into the marriage.
“It’s okay.”
His apprehension faded, replaced by passion. He turned and shut off the water, then pulled her out of the shower. They were both dripping, but she didn’t say a word. She would deal with the mess later.
Her naked, soaked husband left her by the bed long enough to lock the bedroom door; then he drew her onto the mattress and kissed her as if he never wanted to stop. At the same time, he moved his fingers against her breasts, playing with her tight, aching nipples until she found it difficult to breathe.
When he shifted to kiss his way down her body, she knew what would happen next. What she had resisted for more reasons than she could remember over what felt like a lifetime. But instead of protesting or telling him she didn’t want that, she used her fingers to part herself for him, allowing him to kiss her more intimately.
At the first stroke of his tongue against her clitoris, she closed her eyes. With the second, she found it difficult to breathe and with the third, she had to hold back the scream of pure pleasure.
He licked all of her, exploring, maybe remembering, playing her until her muscles were tight and shaking. Only then did he settle into a steady rhythm designed to reduce her to begging and leave her completely in his control.
“Like that,” she gasped, as she spiraled closer.
His pace faltered for a second. She smiled without opening her eyes. “Yes, that was me, speaking during sex.” Something he’d asked for so many times, but that she’d been unwilling to do. “Pretty soon you’ll be telling me to shut up.”
She felt him smile, but he kept up the delicious movement of his tongue against her swollen center.
She lost herself in the sensation, wanting to hold back but unable to. Closer and closer.
“Colin,” she breathed. “Almost. I’m so close. I—”
She came without warning, shuddering into her release. She knew she cried out, she might have screamed, but hoped she didn’t. Mostly because she didn’t want to have to explain the sound to the girls.
She kept coming as he gentled his touch, giving herself over to him and the pleasure he created in her body.
Before she was quite done, he shifted, moving onto his knees and pushing himself into her.
“Don’t stop,” he told her. “Don’t stop.”
He reached between them and rubbed his thumb against her center. She opened her eyes and saw him watching her. Something that always made her uncomfortable. But she couldn’t hold back. Not with him filling her, pumping in and out. Not with his thumb rubbing her swollen clitoris. She pressed down and felt the rippling climax begin again.
She wrapped her legs around his hips and drew him closer. “More!” she told him, pulling him in and opening her thighs at the same time. “Please.”
He did as she asked and she had to cover her mouth to hold in the cries of her release. Then he exploded inside her and his expression tightened. He kept his eyes open, watching her watch him, and for the first time in her life, she saw down to Colin’s soul.
* * *
Andi arrived home on Wednesday night to find Carrie waiting on her front porch. She hadn’t seen much of the preteen since their shopping trip—mostly because she hadn’t seen Wade. Zeke had been handling the day-to-day work on her remodeling.
Last week the crew had finished with the first level and had all moved up to the second story of her house. In less than a month, she would have a working kitchen and bathroom and then she could move out of the attic. A thrilling thought, she told herself.
But it was hard to get excited about much of anything when she was missing Wade. Worse, she was spending way too much time telling herself she shouldn’t be missing him. Talk about a lose-lose proposition.
Andi got out of her car. Carrie raced down the stairs and grinned at her.
“We’ve been waiting and waiting. You have to come see.”
“Who’s we?” Andi asked as Carrie led her back to the porch and then paused by the front door.
“Boston and Deanna. We can’t wait anymore!”
She opened the front door and practically danced inside. Andi followed more slowly. Then she came to a complete stop as she took in the finished waiting room.
Boston’s magical mural dominated the bright, well-lit space. Sunlight poured in through big windows, illuminating the various jungle creatures. The big leaves practically vibrated with life, and the butterflies looked ready to fly away.
There were several chairs and a sofa that she’d ordered but hadn’t known had arrived. Tables, stacks of magazines for both adults and kids. A play area filled one corner of the room. A thick rug provided padding for her younger patients. In addition to the durable plastic toys she’d bought, there were several beautiful wood toys that looked old and handmade. A train set, blocks and several farm animals were stacked together.
“Surprise,” Deanna said as she and Boston stepped into the waiting room. “We added a few things. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s amazing.” Andi touched one of the small tables. “I didn’t buy this.”
“I know.” Deanna shrugged. “It’s a donation. I’m redoing my living room. It’s too formal. This is a reproduction and sturdy enough to survive years of kids climbing on it. I brought in this rug, too.” She tapped her foot on the beautiful rug underfoot.
“The toys are mine,” Carrie said, picking up a carved pig. “My dad made them for me when I was little. He said I could donate them if I wanted, but I thought I’d like them to be here. So other kids could enjoy them.”
She smiled at Andi. “I kept a couple of my favorites for myself,” she admitted. “For when I have a family.”
“I’m glad you did. And if you want these
back, just let me know.”
“There’s more,” Boston told her. “Come see your office.”
Andi went down the hall and stepped into her office. The desk was in place. There were several lamps and comfortable chairs for consultations, along with two paintings. One was a seascape and the other was Deanna’s daughters playing with Pickles under the tree out front.
Andi drew in a breath. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “Everything is wonderful. You’ve all been so kind.”
“You’re one of us now,” Deanna told her. “Whether you like it or not.”
Andi laughed. Carrie moved in and hugged her, and then they were all holding on to each other. Andi absorbed the sense of belonging, knowing that in a few short months she’d managed to find a home here on the island. And that home had nothing to do with the house she stood in and everything to do with the women she’d met.
They released each other. Carrie started for the door.
“I’m going to go see Madison,” she told them.
“Have fun,” Andi called after her. When the preteen had left, she turned to her friends. “Seriously, you didn’t have to do this.”
“We wanted to,” Boston told her. “You’re starting a new adventure in your life, and we get to be a part of it.”
Deanna nodded in agreement. “Everything turned out perfectly. The mural is brilliant, Boston.”
“Thanks.”
Andi started to say something, but found herself watching Deanna instead.
“What happened?” she asked.
Deanna looked at her. “Nothing. Why?”
Andi studied her. Everything was exactly as it always was—from the perfect makeup to the coordinated clothes. Yet there was a change. Maybe something in her eyes or the brightness of her smile.
“You’re happy,” she said without thinking.
Deanna grinned. “Maybe. Yes. I’m trying. Everything isn’t perfect, but it’s getting better. At least I hope it is. I’m trying and Colin’s trying, too.” She pressed her lips together. “We had the most incredible sex the other morning. We haven’t done that in I don’t know how long. If ever. I know there’s still work, but I’m hopeful.”
“Good for you,” Andi said. “I’m only slightly bitter.”
“Still no sign of Wade?”
Andi shook her head.
“The King men are all idiots,” Boston said. “I’ve accepted that. I don’t like it, but I know I can’t change it.”
Andi sighed. “So no Zeke?”
“Not even a whisper.” Boston’s green eyes filled with tears. “I love him and I miss him, but I don’t know what to do to make things right between us. Maybe whatever we had died with Liam. I don’t know.”
“It’s not dead,” Deanna told her. “You’ll find your way back.”
“I hope so,” Boston said. “Because we’re both really lost.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
BOSTON STOOD IN front of the closed door, her fingers hovering over the handle. “Thanks for coming over.”
“You’re welcome.” Deanna touched her arm. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I do. It’s time. I put it off for too long as it is.”
She grasped the door handle and turned, then stepped into the corner room.
The walls had been painted a pale yellow. The curtains were blue-and-yellow checks, and the longest wall had a big grinning train engine painted right in the center. A whitewashed crib and changing table added to the lightness of the space. Thick rugs covered the hardwood floors, and there was a rocking chair in the corner.
Boston stood in the middle of the room and let the pain wash over her. She welcomed the stabbing ache in her heart and prayed that this time she would be able to cry. Deanna moved next to her and put her arm around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” her friend whispered. “This really sucks.”
Boston nodded.
“When were you last in here?”
“A week after he died. I haven’t been back since. I’m not sure Zeke’s been in here at all.”
Deanna went into the hallway and returned with several boxes. “We’ll pack up everything and when Colin joins us later to help disassemble the furniture, we’ll cart it all up to the attic. If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
Boston nodded. “It is. Even if Zeke and I were to work things out, I’d never use this room for our baby. I’d want to move the guest room to here.”
“I think that’s for the best,” Deanna said.
She set one of the boxes by the dresser and began opening drawers. “You don’t have to stay. I can do this.”
Boston shook her head. “I need to be here.”
As Deanna emptied drawers, Boston walked over to the rocking chair. “This has to go.”
“Colin’s taking it to the women’s shelter in Marysville this weekend.” Deanna glanced up at her. “I knew you wouldn’t want to keep it.”
Boston touched the chair. The cool wood was beautiful. Hand-carved and in perfect condition. But she’d been sitting in this chair when Liam had died. She couldn’t allow it to stay in her house.
She sank onto the floor and pulled her knees to her chest. There weren’t any tears, and the pain had faded. While she was in the room, it was all happening from a distance.
“Do you think I’m broken?” she asked.
“No.”
Boston turned to her. “That’s it? Just no?”
Deanna smiled. “You’re healing, Boston. It’s going to take time.”
“I don’t cry.”
“Lately I’ve been crying too much. You’re being too hard on yourself. You’ll get where you need to go.”
Boston managed a smile. “That therapy is really working.”
“It helps a lot. I’m learning to not hold on so tight. That everything doesn’t have to be perfect all the time. The world will not end if I don’t floss every night or if my kids wear clothes that don’t match.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve put on three pounds and I’m not sure I care.”
“I put on thirty with the baby.”
Deanna shook her head. “Don’t change, Boston. You’re beautiful just the way you are.”
“Thank you.”
Deanna returned to the dresser. Boston watched her pull tiny pants and shirts from drawers. There were socks so small they looked as if they’d been made for a doll. Her chest tightened. She opened her hands, as if letting all the pain in. It settled on her, crushing her.
She closed her eyes, willing the tears to come. She needed an expression of her grief. Please, she prayed silently. Please.
Deanna stood and moved to the closet. Boston opened her eyes and knew that she wasn’t ready. Not yet.
* * *
“I’m sorry to have to tell you there are three sets of books,” Michelle Sanderson said from behind her desk at the Blackberry Island Inn. “There’s the inn itself, along with the restaurant and that damn gift shop.”
Deanna sat straight in her chair, determined not to let the other woman know how nervous she was. “You’re not a fan of the gift shop?”
“My business partner and I argue over inventory. Do you know how many things you can get that are covered with daisies?” Michelle, a pretty woman with dark curly hair and big green eyes, said with an exasperated smile. “Too many. They come on everything, and Carly swears they sell. Unfortunately for me, she’s right.”
Michelle sighed. “I’m ac
tually a very nice person. Please don’t let my unnatural hatred of daisies make you less interested in the job.”
“I’m still interested,” Deanna said.
“Good. As you and I discussed on the phone, we’re looking for someone who can take over the bookkeeping of all three businesses. It’s too much for Carly and me to deal with. You’d be responsible for accounts payable and receivable, along with payroll. Carly handles the inventory, so you wouldn’t have to deal with vendors beyond paying them.”
Michelle glanced at the notes in front of her. “We were thinking that having you in three mornings a week would work best. We can discuss what’s going on and be around to answer any questions. The rest of the work you can do at your home. Honestly, we’re tight on space. The inn is full nearly all the time, and while that’s excellent, it keeps us busy. Now with Carly getting married...”
Michelle leaned back in her chair. “She wants a big wedding, if you can believe it.” She waved her left hand. There was a plain gold band on her ring finger. “Why the hell she can’t run off to Reno like the rest of us, I’ll never know. But Carly is big on the rituals.”
Michelle might be complaining, but Deanna heard the affection in her voice.
She was a few years older than Michelle and Carly. While they’d all gone to the same school on the island, Deanna had been a few grades ahead. She knew the other two had been close friends for years. Something had happened later, but she’d never heard the details. Whatever it was, it had obviously been resolved. They were business partners here at the inn, and business was good.
“You’re familiar with the software we use?” Michelle asked.
“I am. I recently completed an online course to brush up on my skills.” Deanna passed over the certificate she’d earned.
Three Sisters Page 28
