Communion (On My Knees Series Book 3)

by Ella James

  I flick his forearm gently. “Not an answer.”

  He lifts a shoulder. “It's getting a little easier.” His voice sounds heavy. “I'm scheduling that Q&A for next week. I know it's going to be watched…by a lot of people. But I want to do it. I want to be out with you. I need it."

  I take his hand.

  "I think mostly it just feels awkward. Like wearing new shoes. I don't dislike it. Sometimes I feel uncomfortable. And then it passes."

  My stomach sinks, because I hate that this is how he feels about being out with me. But what can I say? It makes sense.

  "I know it’s going to be a process,” Sky continues, “but I want it, Vanny. I want nothing more than this. Even if it has those kinds of moments. All I want is you."

  I glance at our clasped hands. Did his words sound hollow? I tell myself of course they don’t; I know Sky loves me. Then I try to make him feel good.

  "That's the way I feel, too, McD.”

  His hand tightens in mine. “I’m still worried this is…too much.” He sucks in a big breath. I stroke his hand as he blows it out. “I don’t want to shove you into the closet.”

  "I knew what this would be like, McD. And I'm here for all of it. I just want to be with you. Forever." I swallow after I say it, my throat unexpectedly tight.

  "You liked that baby,” Sky says.

  "Yeah." I force a smile.

  "What would we do if we have one? Did you mean what you said back on the yacht? You would mind the baby some...if I was working at the church?"

  Luke

  I watch Rayne’s face as I ask. The way his eyes slide to mine, like he’s watching me, too.

  “Yeah.” Vance looks thoughtful. “I'd like that. I would still need studio time. But truth, like I said before, I don't usually ever go more than five or six hours. Times I hit a spurt where I need longer hours, we could hire a nanny."

  "Maybe I could take off some, too."

  V’s lips curl in a little smile I can’t read. "Maybe you could."

  "I've been thinking of having someone help me...do some stuff I’m doing now,” I tell him. “I've enjoyed overseeing the foundation, but I don't need to do that; it’s not a must. The school...I'm in charge of that. But why do I need to be? I may elevate some people, try to scale back some."

  "You going full-on family man?" V’s tone is teasing, but his face is careful.

  "I want to be your man," I tell him earnestly. My throat aches, and not just from sucking his cock.

  Rayne’s face blanks out, going slightly dreamy—or maybe detached.

  “You still want a big family?”

  He smiles. "For sure, Sky babe."

  "I still get..." I shake my head. I reach over and touch the scar on his head.

  “I know you do,” Rayne says. “But you can't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault.” He runs his hand over his short hair. “Kinda liking this, but if you want the white-guy Jesus look, it's growing back." He wiggles his brows, and I want to kiss those smiling lips of his.

  Instead, I blow out a slow breath and ask myself the same thing I ask myself a thousand times a day now: Can I make him happy? Really? Even if I keep on being head pastor?

  "Whatcha brooding about?"

  I hate to say stuff like this. Hate to talk about my feelings. It’s so…uncomfortable. But I do it. For him. I lift my brows, because it really is awkward, and I feel awkward, and confess, "Just want you to be happy."

  "I’m happy,” he says.

  "I want to give you everything you want." It's just above a whisper.

  "I have everything I want. Sitting by me." His hand squeezes mine. "You get that, right? You are everything I want, and everything I need. You've been the missing piece for me since we met, Sky. I waited because it's all I could do. I came here because I couldn't say no. I want you so damn much. If you think being a little half step in the closet, or seeing you be uncomfortable or worried is gonna make me run off, you're forgetting history. I tried to forget about you and it didn't work. I never could. I'd never want to. I've got all the time in the world."

  I nod slowly as I feel the underwater feeling try to cover me. "I don't feel worthy of you." I shut my eyes.

  He pulls the car over, and I want to sink right through the floor of the car. This seems too much, like I’m being too dramatic.

  "You are worthy of the whole damn world, Sky. Outer space. The fucking solar system. And we belong together."

  He crawls into my side of the car and lets the seat down and wraps himself around me. It feels so good. My eyes ache and my throat tightens.

  "Is this what's keeping you up at night? Shit about us?" Vance sounds almost affronted.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, which makes tears fall. "I worry I'm not right for you,” I choke out. “That I can't be what you need. You're light years ahead of me.” In keeping with the space analogies. “You know yourself, and you accept yourself. And other people. I'm...behind.” I let a long breath out. “And I'm aware of that."

  V’s fingers wipe my tears, and his eyes shine his love down at me. It’s a tangible thing; I can see it when he looks at me like this.

  "You're ahead of me in some ways, too,” he murmurs. “But we're together. This is us, it isn't me and you. We're a fucking team, McD. Forever."

  "Are you sure you really want that?" Tears are stinging my eyes, and I hate that I feel like a pussy when I cry around him.

  "I'm more than sure. Is that what's keeping you from taking me down to the courthouse?"

  I hold his head against my chest and squeeze my eyes shut. "Yes.” I let a breath out, go on in a voice that still sounds broken. “I don't want to rope you in too soon. Or take away your freedom."

  "Is that how you feel? Like your freedom's gone?"

  "Of course not.” I cup my hand around the back of V’s head. “I wanted this for years." I don't say what he already knows: I wanted a family badly enough to consider it with a woman.

  Vance made all of that impossible. In the end, I wanted him enough to say goodbye to everything I’d planned for myself. I figured coming out would be the end of my career. But he’s right when he says it’s not just a career; it’s a calling. That’s why I holed up after I did that gay wedding—because I could feel it coming—my own coming out. And I was scared.

  "I don't want to chain you down,” I manage as he lifts his head to look at my face. “Especially before you can…see how it will be,” I choke out.

  "But I want that.” He laughs like he thinks I’m crazy. “I took your ring, Sky. I'm already your husband in my heart and mind."

  I press my temple to his. Then I brush a kiss over his strong jaw. I’m feeling better suddenly, like all the dark stuff has passed. "Let's go to the courthouse," I say.

  He hoots out a soft laugh. "Right now?"

  "Do you think it's open?" I ask.

  "No." He laughs again, and I can tell by how careful his expression is that he’s trying not to ask me if I’ve lost my mind.

  "I don't want to wait. I keep putting it off. But not because I don’t want to. Because I'm scared,” I whisper.

  “I’m not gonna ask if that means cold feet.” He smiles like he’s teasing, but there’s something in his face that makes me wonder if he isn’t.

  I cup his cheek. “C’mon, Rayne. Tell me you’re not wondering about that—not really.”

  He puts his face against my neck, and something warm shifts in my upper chest. “Rayne, Rayne… My Rayne. We’ve gotta fix this ASAP. Get the paperwork and get you settled. Get the good insurance going. Wear the rings and give you everything you deserve.”

  I kiss his jaw under his ear and then he’s taking my mouth. He kisses me deep and hard and hot until my dick is aching, and I’m wishing we could go at it right here in the car.

  “You treat me just fine, preacher. Better than fine.”

  I’m unbuttoning his pants when V’s hands close around mine.

  “C’mon, preacher,” he says softly. “We don’t want some dashboard foota
ge or some weird shit like that busting up our party.”

  I laugh, but I grab his jaw and kiss him again because my dick’s so hard I can’t not.

  We drive home with our hands locked together and my boner still throbbing, and I feel better than I have in a while. When we get there, I figure we’ll end up between the sheets, but V offers to cook one of those pre-made skillet meals while I hop in the shower.

  When I come out, I find him frowning at the bag. “I think this may be expired?”

  I can’t resist a little ribbing. “Is it or isn’t it?” I smirk, lifting one brow before taking my towel off and rub it over my hair. I watch V’s gaze drop to where I want it.

  As my dick stiffens again, I study his face. He doesn't look too tired. Looks like he could go another round of marathon sex.

  I laugh as a crazy idea hits me. "Okay, V… I'm about to ask you something. If it's not what you want, I need you to tell me 'no.' No hesitation. I won’t mind if you don’t want to. This is just an idea."

  13

  Luke

  Rayne frowns, looking so gorgeous it makes my chest ache. That man’s mine. He’s mine forever.

  I grin, stepping closer. "Will you go to the airport with me, Vanny? And will you wear a suit?"

  He laughs, his whole face lit up with shock. "You gonna Vegas this shit, preacher?"

  I close the distance in between us, hugging him hard. I kiss his jaw then catch him by the nape and brush my lips over his warm ones.

  "I want to do it right now,” I whisper near his cheek. “We could be at Vegas fast.” My stomach flips as I pull back so I can analyze his face. “I know it’s kind of out there, so we don’t have to do it this way. I just want to be your legal husband."

  Vance is grinning, and it’s soft and sweet, so I already know what he thinks in the second before he says, "That sounds perfect. Let's get married in a chapel on the Strip and eat a funnel cake and then fly back. You can sleep on the plane. I'll hold you and feed you melatonin like an all-star husband."

  That makes me laugh. "I don't even know if I'll need it."

  We dress in the closet together, laughing, grinning. Kissing. Vance wears navy dress pants and a light blue button-up, the sleeves rolled up in his casual style, and I wear a gray suit with a pink button-up—sans tie.

  "Let's take a selfie in the mirror over the bathroom sink." There’s something on his face that makes me ask, "How come?"

  "Just this fantasy I had when you were at my place in Chelsea that day. The day I flew to you and you had the bad hangover?"

  We stand side-by-side for the shot, and we're cheesing so hard.

  I'm so nervous, I forget my wallet on the dresser. Vance jogs back to the bedroom to grab it, and I just stand there, watching him move. This has never felt so real, so solid, to me before. Like, after this, it’s not going to slip away.

  When V gets back into the living area with my wallet, he takes one look at me and makes me have a shot of whiskey.

  "Do you want a honeymoon?” I ask after I toss it back.

  "We already took one," he laughs. His hand moves through my hair, and after that, he takes my hand in his and leads me toward the garage. "I'm driving to the airport, McD. I think you would wreck us."

  Vance

  He’s so nervous. I can tell because his eyes are wide as he stares out the passenger’s side window, and he keeps smoothing his palms over the knees of his pants as if they’re sweaty.

  "Luke, we did this on the yacht, remember?” I elbow him lightly, and then wave my left hand. “We're wearing rings."

  "I know." He laughs, but it sounds choked.

  "Are you scared about the press? We don't have to do it in Vegas."

  "No, I want to. If you do?" Again, with those wide, hazel eyes.

  I brake for a light and lean over to brush my lips over his cheek. "I do, Sky. I do and I do and I do."

  "I need this.” He blows out a breath that he’s probably been holding.

  "Vegas is a very gay place."

  I waggle my brows, and Luke grins. It might the first time I’ve observed him looking proud to be gay.

  "You might need some sequins or a rainbow top hat," I tease.

  "Maybe I do."

  He relaxes, leaning back against the Tesla’s passenger seat and puffing out another long breath.

  “Good?” I ask a few miles later.

  “Great.” He takes my hand. He plays with his phone as I drive us the rest of the way to the airport, looking up at times to smile or wink. But I can tell he’s pretty nervous. Looking at his phone makes him feel car-sick, but he does it at times when he’s having anxiety.

  We park at the airport, and again, I say, “You okay?”

  He laughs, and this time it sounds more real. “I’m good to go, Rayne. Are you?” He quirks a brow up, and I say, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  We walk to the plane holding hands. As soon as we both buckle in, he's yawning.

  "Was this really why you couldn't sleep?" I ask as we taxi down the runway.

  "I think so. Kind of."

  "Tell me more," I murmur.

  "I think it was just all bleeding together. Wrong word," he says, looking somber. "I kept thinking of the hospital. I still dream about that. And I think about the church, how that could go wrong. And I think about you getting hurt. And think maybe you’d wish that you had never done this and just want to go back home."

  "You’re my home, McD."

  He gets that focus line between his brows again—the little wrinkle line. "I think the concept of forever bothers me now as much as it did when I was a kid thinking of heaven. I just can't grasp it."

  "Me either,” I tell him, “except when it comes to you. You and me, we're never-ending, Sky babe. When I'm with you, I feel right. Complete. I can’t imagine that would ever stop."

  "That's how I feel, too."

  He sleeps on my shoulder, with one arm around my torso, like he's trying to be sure I don't get up and run off.

  I fuck around on my phone and think of texting Pearl—but I don’t, because I figure Sky should tell her. A few minutes later, she texts me.

  ‘Ahhhhh- V, he told me!’

  ‘Did he?’ I text her a smile emoji.

  ‘How’re you feeling?’

  ‘Perfect,’ I type. ‘Ready for some funnel cake.’

  ‘Do they have funnel cake in Vegas?’

  My jaw drops. ‘Tell me you’re kidding.”

  ‘No! I’ve never seen it there.’

  ‘Have you ever spent time there,’ I ask her, smirking with one eyebrow arched up.

  ‘I have! But no funnel cake. What a shame. Eat a lot of it for us. Arman and I can’t wait to see pics! Make sure someone snaps you kissing the hubs!’

  ‘Haha. Will do, Pearl.’

  ‘Love u two!’

  ‘U two too’

  I slide the phone into my pocket, thinking about Pearl and Arman, and how effortlessly they accepted me into their friend fold. How Pearl is always saying she loves Sky and me. Is it weird that it sort of weirds me out? It’s not like I don’t want her to say it. I do, I think. I just also feel like asking, “Are you sure?”

  Gotta think a therapist would have a field day with that stuff.

  I close my eyes and focus on the feel of Sky’s big body against mine. I think of younger Vance back up in Chelsea, eating donuts, feeling fucking hopeless, and I close my eyes and say my own sort of little prayer. We’re going to be okay. I can feel it—all this shit is going to come together. For a while, I’m half asleep, my whole awareness zeroed in on being in this chair with Sky’s strong, heavy arms around me.

  I’m not sure how much time has passed when I open my eyes again. But I look out the window, and I think the twinkling lights below have gotta be Sin City. Damn—so bright and pretty. Like a blanket of light. I hold Luke closer, and I think about the name of this place—Sin City. About his job. About the millions of people who know him, and who know me, too, now. Then I close my eyes, lean my head ag
ainst the seat’s headrest, and let myself feel peace.

  When we dip down to the runway and the plane’s wheels start to bounce, Luke sits up and blinks at me. A slow smile curves his mouth, and it blooms into a grin.

  “Did I sleep the whole time?” He laughs.

  “You did.” I ruffle his hair, and he smooths his palm over mine.

  "Nice to see you again," he says, dropping a kiss on my cheek.

  "Nice to see you, too, McD.” The plane is stopped in no time, and my heart is in my throat. “Let's do this."

  I don’t know when he put a call in, but Sky has a driver waiting. The car has a divider wall, so we can have some privacy as we roll toward our happily ever after. When Luke looks nervous, I break out some knock-knock jokes, and after a little while looking out the window at the always-festive Strip, we’re pretty much sitting on top of each other.

  “What’ve you got here?” Sky’s hand covers my cock. He rubs at my erection as we crawl along in heavy traffic. Right about the time I think I might come in a rented car, I see two intertwined neon hearts, resting on a blinking sign that says MARRIAGE in flashing hot pink lights.

  “Oh, shit, look! Tell him to stop.”

  I have to tuck my dick away before we step out onto the crowded curb, weaving between a man on stilts and a big group of college-aged women as we head toward the chapel. It’s small and white, with only a short line. There’s a rainbow flag taped to the front of the podium just outside, which means we’re feeling at ease as Luke pays the modest fee. He grins like a kid as we’re waved inside.

  The chapel—if you can call it that—is done in cheetah print, with sequined curtains and a whole wall of paper flowers behind the officiant’s glittering pink podium.

  Our officiant is a bubbly, red-haired woman in a pink suit with a rainbow fedora.

  “Look at you boys,” she says, sounding like a proud mom.

  I see her eyes fix on Luke’s face and hope she doesn’t recognize him. If she does, she doesn’t say so. She just smiles—white teeth and red lipstick—and says, “Stand close together. Cheek-to-cheek.”