Snapdragon (Love Conquers None Book 1)

by Kilby Blades

  “You’re beautiful,” he replied simply.

  She didn’t want to stop looking at it. She wanted to memorize its detail, the emotion it captured. She realized she wanted to keep it, but it would seem rather vain to ask. Thinking along those lines brought her to another realization.

  “That painting in your living room…the butterfly…”

  “Is mine,” he finished for her.

  This is what family should be.

  Darby thought it at random moments as she sat at Bex’s dining room table, conversing fluidly and laughing easily, happier than she’d ever felt at any family dinner of her own. She’d been nervous about meeting Michael’s family, obsessing over whether they would like her. Even worse, she had obsessed over what it meant that she was so nervous at all.

  Bex was strikingly beautiful. It was a strange how strongly they resembled one another given that they were opposite sex fraternal twins. They had the same deep-blue sea eyes. Michael had closely-shaven hair that hinted at a very dark hue, and Bex’s impressive mane of wavy black hair gave a sense of what Michael would look like if he ever grew his long. Bex was shorter than Michael, but still a bit taller than Darby, and she had a charisma so strong that it rivaled Michael’s. Even Ella, his six-year-old niece, displayed what Darby could only conclude was inherited charm.

  Darby was relieved that it felt more like a dinner party among friends than it did a relationship milestone. Alex, Bex’s husband who traveled for work, was home for once and a certain joy at his presence was palpable. They talked about things that all adults talked about when they got together: how hard it was to get tickets to Hamilton, how ridiculous traffic was on the Dan Ryan, and whether to start or continue watching Game of Thrones.

  “You were so gracious to bring dessert,” Alex said as Bex fetched Darby’s cake and placed it on the table. “What a lovely surprise. Michael talks about how hard you work, so we didn’t want to put you on the spot to bring something—especially something homemade.”

  Darby shifted her gaze to Michael, who had explicitly insisted she bring a dessert. Michael shrugged, giving her an unrepentant look at the discovery of his fib.

  “Though, the way Michael talks about your baking…” Bex picked up, “I’ll admit that I’m eager to try anything you’ve made.”

  “Michael does love my baking,” she murmured. “I take it he’s always loved sweets?”

  Bex laughed as she handed Darby the cake-cutting knife and set a sack of dessert plates next to her.

  “One time, when he was four, he climbed up onto the kitchen counter and got into the sugar. He just ate it straight from the canister. Mom thought he was napping but he wasn’t—he was just scooping sugar by the fistful.” She covered Ella’s ears as she continued. “He had an epic case of the shits for the next two days.”

  Darby laughed freely at his expense.

  “He’s so good at savory food.” Bex continued. “If he’d ever wanted to be a chef he’d have been great at it. But he’s never been one for baking. The two of you are a great match in that sense.”

  And there it was—the first reference to them as a couple.

  “Very true,” Darby agreed smoothly. “I love baking, but before Michael, I rarely baked for myself. If I made a dozen cupcakes, I’d eat a dozen cupcakes. Now, I eat one and Michael eats the other eleven.”

  Alex laughed. “That sounds about right.”

  After Michael’s entire family had oohed and aahed about the cake, it was time for Ella to go to bed. Darby didn’t think she had made much of an impression on the little girl and was surprised when Ella asked if she could be the one to read her bedtime stories.

  “Of course, sweetie,” Darby agreed, flattered. “I would love that.”

  “Don’t worry, Uncle Michael—you can come too.”

  And, with that, the little girl led them up to her room.

  On deck for that night’s stories were The Cat in the Hat Comes Back and Rosie Revere, Engineer. Despite having no kids of her own, Darby was familiar with these books. On the psych ward, some of her patients were children.

  She could see the surprise in Michael’s eyes as she read from the books, enchanting Ella at all the right parts with emphasis and making the characters come alive. Ella gave her a huge hug after the last page was read. It was the kind of hug that only a six-year-old could deliver and Darby cherished it.

  After bidding Ella sweet dreams and letting Michael take on teeth brushing duty, she made her way down to the kitchen to see whether she could help with cleanup. For the first time that night, she and Bex were alone.

  “You have a beautiful family,” Darby said a tad shyly as she fell in next to Bex to help with the dishes. “Thanks so much for inviting me.”

  Bex smiled over at her and didn’t say anything at first.

  “Michael’s never brought a girl home, you know. And he’s never talked about anyone like he talks about you.”

  She didn’t know what she was supposed to say to that. “I like him a lot.”

  “I’m glad,” Bex said. “Because he needs time.”

  Darby was afraid to ask.

  “Time for what?”

  “Time to admit to himself what he really wants, and to rework his plan once he does. Time for him to figure out how to make it work. I hope you’re the kind of woman who will wait for him. He’s worth it.”

  Now she really didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how much of the truth Bex knew. It was impossible to tell if she was aware of the arrangement, and it would be strange to confide in Michael’s twin who she’d just met. And it wasn’t just Michael who was holding back—it was her, too.

  “It’s complicated,” she said simply.

  “Most relationships are.” Bex continued rinsing dishes. “Ella and I barely see Alex these days. It’s not ideal, but it’s not forever. We pay the price now, but we know what’s waiting for us in the end.”

  Darby said no more, but reflected for the rest of the night on how her situation with Michael was exactly the opposite. They knew what was waiting for them in the end, too. All they had was now, and the price to be paid would come later.

  “Thank God I caught you,” Michael said with relief, though he didn’t sound happy. He sounded like he was moving around, holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

  “They’re about to make me turn my phone off,” she said. “What’s up?”

  The flight attendants were more tolerable of First Class passengers being on their phones, but they’d closed the door and were ready to taxi. A minute later, even she would be asked, however politely, to put her phone in airplane mode.

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t make it tonight. I’ve been called to San Francisco and I need to be in the airport in a couple of hours. By the time you get home, I’ll be on a plane.”

  “When do you get back?”

  “Not until Friday.” Her face fell. It had already been twelve days since she’d seen him.

  This was an increasing problem. He was leaving for longer hauls. She was traveling more as well. Three times already, their schedules had kept them apart for long stretches. And she didn’t like it at all. They had seen each other only six times over the past two months.

  “O’Hare, right?” she asked. She herself was in Washington, D.C. “I’ll be there in three hours. When does your flight leave?”

  “Not for another five hours,” he said, and she could hear that he’d caught on to her idea.

  “Why don’t we meet there?”

  “Are you on Virgin?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Me, too. So we’ll be in Terminal 3.” He was an encyclopedia when it came to airports. “Are you a member of the Admiral’s Club?”

  “No.”

  “Buy yourself a day pass and meet me in the one on the L concourse.”

  “Alright,” she said, feeling better instantly. “I’ll see you there. Travel safe.”

  By the time she landed, she’d done the math. She’d fig
ured out the flight he was on and knew that they would have just a little over an hour. Not wanting to wait a single minute, she’d bought her Admiral’s Club day pass online. She was aching to see him and had been counting the days all week.

  The last two times they had gone too many days without seeing each other, they had fallen into bed together—if they even made it to bed at all—and fucked for hours. In some ways, she had loved it. She’d replayed over and over in her mind what it felt like to have Michael slam her against the wall and disrobe them only as much as was necessary to allow him to ram his cock deeply inside her. In those moments, everything felt so raw, so visceral, and his desperation really turned her on. She liked the fantasy that he craved her—and only her—so much that he was never with anyone else. She liked the power of being the only woman who could slake his incredible thirst.

  At the same time, she hated it. She missed him when he was gone. And even though being apart gave them incredible moments where pent-up tension was released, she would rather they were together more often. His absence the following week would be agony, though their brief rendezvous in O’Hare was better than nothing.

  She wondered whether they would fuck. No doubt, the danger of doing that somewhere they weren’t supposed to would only enhance their blazing hot sex. Most of the club lounges had showers, but, O’Hare had four Admiral’s Clubs, and she couldn’t remember whether the one on L Concourse did.

  The second she walked in, she recognized him from across the room. He sat in a comfortable leather low-back chair, and even from the back, his strong neck and the curve of his shaven head hinted at his beauty. As she walked around to face him, she placed her hand affectionately on his neck.

  He followed her with his eyes as she took the seat next to him, blindly turning off his iPad, and slipping it into the messenger bag on his lap.

  “Hi,” he smiled warmly.

  These moments with him were often the most intense—moments when they were in public, and were reticent to be too showy about their affections. She’d found that she was more recognized when she was out among strangers now that buzz about her father’s presidential bid had begun.

  “Hi,” she returned, smiling back at him in a way that she knew conveyed her own affection. He took her hand, something he never shied away from. “I’m glad this worked out.”

  “Me, too.”

  “So what’s in San Francisco?”

  “A fire to put out. Not in San Francisco, proper. I’m going to Napa.”

  She nodded approvingly. That sounded nice.

  “One of the former winemakers at Opus One has started his own label and we were hired to build what’s basically a small castle. They’re sending me in to put out a fire and romance the client. It’s not going well,” he explained.

  “I’ve always wanted to go there,” she admitted.

  “Maybe we should go some time,” he said. It made her think of Sundance, and she liked the idea of getting away with him again.

  “That would be nice,” she remarked, not bothering to hide her smile.

  “I want to be alone with you,” he said bluntly, and not with his usual fire. She would have expected his words to be dripping with innuendo, but they weren’t.

  “Do they have napping rooms here?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Shower suites,” he said. “I’ve already gotten the key to number four.”

  “Let’s go, then. We only have an hour.”

  He stood her up then and she didn’t bother to pick up her own bag. By then, she knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t let her. He slung his duffel and his messenger bag over his shoulder and began to roll her suitcase. Given how late at night it was, the lounge was empty. He let them in and dropped their bags. And they were, finally, alone.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist but didn’t make a move to kiss her as she expected. Instead, he leaned his forehead down to touch hers.

  “All this travel is turning out to be a bitch.”

  He was right—when they’d first made their arrangement, he had been the one doing all the travel, and much less of it.

  “We knew it would be like this,” she said.

  Michael sighed heavily. “Yeah…we did.”

  The room was spacious and homey, with an elegantly tiled shower and sink at one side, and a dressing suite on the other. An ironing board and a steamer were mounted on one of the walls, as was a rack that hung towels. A luggage stand was set up so that suitcases could be opened easily. And a long bench was on the opposite wall to provide a space to sit while dressing. Michael took her hand, sat on the bench and pulled her onto his lap.

  She knew what was coming next—at least she thought she did. He would start out kissing her and it would turn into something more. He did kiss her then, softly and slowly, but after several blissful minutes of exploring each other’s mouths, the something more didn’t come. She could feel him hardening beneath her, feel their kisses becoming just a bit more desperate. But he made no move to take things further. It only made her want him more.

  “Touch me,” she murmured in-between kisses, and she felt him begin to oblige. With the hand that wasn’t on her back, steadying her where she sat, he gently cupped her breast from outside her shirt. He could feel her approval and intensified his movements, as he became very hard beneath her. Still kissing him, she began to remove her boots. Next would be her socks and pants.

  Soon enough, she had straddled him and was sinking down onto his cock, and he was looking at her in adulation. She didn’t make a sound, though she was sure her face showed her pleasure. But they had to be careful to be quiet. She pushed him back, so that her knees were more fully on the bench, placing her in a better position to move. He pulled her sweater over her head and when she saw his eyes widen, she was glad she had chosen that particular bra.

  With her hands on his shoulder, she began to ride him. Though she did have the presence of mind to keep them restrained, it felt so good she couldn’t stop the sounds that emanated from deep within her. Michael, meanwhile, had closed his eyes and let his head fall forward. She could tell from his own softer sounds that, he too, was holding back.

  Inevitably, his hands came to her hips as his own hips began to move with more urgency. Soon he was fucking her from beneath as much as she was riding him from above.

  “Fuck, Darby,” he ground out softly and so vulnerably. They fucked with rising intensity, but still in that slow, sensual rhythm that always worked.

  She wanted it to last forever, to be held with him in that sweet limbo that was gratifying by itself but never enough. When she felt him thumb her roughly, it careened her to the edge. He always liked for her to come first, and it was telling that he sped it along. She felt herself tightening in anticipation of her release, and she knew he felt it too. He was the most sensitive person that she’d ever met in that respect. He relished every twitch that she’d ever delivered.

  “I’m gonna come all over your cock,” she said then, the softness in her voice betraying the filth of her words.

  He moaned, louder than he should have. She loved the feeling of him coming inside her. Before Michael, she’d rarely had sex without a condom, but something about him spilling inside her, despite the cleanup that would come afterward, was so, so hot.

  “Michael,” she gasped, a second before she came.

  “Come, baby,” he whispered with rough desperation in his voice.

  And she did. So did he. It was always more intense when they reached orgasm together. They came down slowly, still moving together a bit even after the moment had passed.

  When she finally sat still on top of him, his lip returned to hers and they kissed for a long time, even after he had softened. After they’d silently disrobed, she pinned her hair into a bun and stepped in the shower with him. They kissed underneath the warm water for the rest of the hour before bidding one another a bittersweet goodbye. She was glad she had seen him, but hated that seeing him had come to that.

  �
��I don’t want to go to work,” Darby half-groaned, half-whined as she pulled the covers up over her head.

  She’d had to go in on both of her days off that week and even after seven good hours of sleep that night, she was exhausted.

  “Why don’t you just call in sick?”

  The thought had never occurred to her, and she was surprised to hear the suggestion coming from Michael.

  “When was the last time you called in sick?”

  “When I had the flu.”

  “Not called in sick because you were sick—called in sick to play hooky.”

  She could tell from his face that even though he was taking the time to think about it, it might not have actually ever happened.

  “I can’t remember,” he admitted.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Alright…why don’t I call in sick, too?”

  It shocked the hell out of her. She couldn’t believe that he of all people would just blow off a day of work. It made her wonder whether things with his job were alright, and what he might be trying to avoid. But she didn’t ask, and instead jumped at the chance to dodge her own work stress for a while.

  It would be nice to have a day off—a real day off—a time when she hadn’t scheduled anything and all possibilities were open. She liked the idea of just relaxing with Michael. Lately, they’d had to steal time together during late nights, coming straight from work to see each other, fucking until fatigue took over and then sleeping until they had to get up to go to work the next morning.

  Michael rolled his eyes as he eavesdropped on her speaking to the Chief’s assistant.

  “Pathetic,” he mumbled when she got off the phone.

  “Alright, let’s hear your excuse,” she challenged.

  His was easy. He dialed, smiling at Darby as he waited for an answer. “I can’t come into work today. I’m sick.”

  He was silent for a minute. “Okay…okay…. that’s fine, he can wait…alright, thanks…bye.”

  Darby shook her head. “Not all of us have assistants that will cover for us,” she complained.

  “Aww…poor baby,” he intoned. “I feel truly sorry for you.”