Only Love (One and Only #3)

by Melanie Harlow

  Emme sighs. “We should get back down there. But I get it, Stella. Now that I see him and you, I get it. Just … be careful. Okay?”

  “I’ll try,” I said, unable to make any promises. Somehow I was no longer the girl who insisted on a seatbelt, wore the life vest, waited for the green signal.

  I had no idea what I was doing, other than finally following my heart.

  Twenty-Six

  Ryan

  During dinner, I’d missed a call from Mack. He hadn’t left a message.

  I stepped out onto the porch and called him back, but it went to voicemail. “Hey, Mack, just saw that you called. Sorry I didn’t answer, I’m at dinner with Stella and her family, believe it or not. But I’ll leave my phone on.”

  I hated to do that, knowing it would be rude to jump up and take a call during coffee and dessert, but something wasn’t right. I could feel it. I tried Bones again too, but he didn’t answer, and his voicemail box was full.

  Back inside, I was distracted. The dessert was delicious and the coffee—with a shot of whiskey for everyone except Emme—tasted great. But I kept looking at my phone, and Stella sensed something was wrong.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, catching me check the screen for the tenth time in ten minutes.

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t get into it, but I felt bad when she dropped her gaze to her cup. She didn’t eat much dessert.

  As for me, I cleaned my plate and had seconds. I’d learned to eat good food in any situation. You never knew when you’d be hungry again.

  When the dessert plates had been cleared and the coffee pot emptied, Stella’s sister excused herself. “I’m sleeping for two,” she said, touching her stomach, which looked pretty flat to me.

  I stood up from my chair and held out my hand. “It was nice meeting you.”

  Suddenly she threw her arms around me. “You too.”

  I hugged her back, although it was a bit awkward. She was considerably shorter than Stella, and I sort of felt like a bear hugging a chipmunk.

  She let go and moved around the table to hug and kiss her grandmother. “Night, Grams. Thanks for dinner.”

  “You’re welcome, darling.” Her grandmother got to her feet and yawned, too. “I’d best put myself to bed as well. Goodnight, lovebirds. See you tomorrow.” On her way to her bedroom, she turned off the lights, leaving us in the dark but for the candles on the table.

  Stella and her sister exchanged an exasperated look, and a moment later, she and I were alone at the table.

  “Your sister is nice,” I said, sitting again.

  She nodded. “She is.”

  “She’s getting married soon? And having a baby?”

  “Yes.” Stella laughed gently. “The pregnancy was a bit of a surprise. She’s getting married in about a month. Due in March.”

  I nodded, recalling her comment about feeling like a failure since her younger sisters were getting married before her, and how she definitely wanted a husband and kids. My life would have been so different if I’d met her years ago, like maybe after my first deployment. Would I have married her instead? Would I have done better? Would we have a family by now?

  “At least I’ll be an aunt,” she said. There was hope in her voice, but sadness too, and she dropped her eyes to her hands, which were twisted together on the table.

  I watched the candlelight play over her beautiful features and felt an ache deep in my chest. Regret that I couldn’t give her all she deserved. Anguish that soon she’d be out of my life, probably forever. And longing—fierce, uncontrollable longing to hold her in my arms and never let her go.

  If I wanted to, I could flip the switch. Suppress it all and walk out of here alone. It was what I should do, for both of us.

  But I didn’t want to. God help me, I didn’t want the ache to go away. It hurt, but it made me feel human again. Alive.

  “You were quiet tonight,” she said without looking up.

  “I’m always quiet, aren’t I?”

  “Quieter than usual.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She met my eyes. “Don’t be sorry. You never have to apologize to me for who you are. I was only worried that you were upset about something.”

  “Nah. I was just thinking. And eating, of course.”

  That made her smile a little. “What were you thinking about?”

  “You.”

  A pause. The candle wick flickered. “What about me?”

  “How beautiful you are. How smart and sensitive. How confident and sexy.”

  The smile widened, and she stared at her hands again, shaking her head. “Sounds like you’re describing someone else.”

  “You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

  “I don’t think I’m confident and sexy.”

  “Come on. Is this the same girl who dropped to her knees behind the barn last night and nearly brought me to mine too?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “But I’m only like that with you. No one else has ever made me … feel the things you do.” When she finally raised her eyes to mine, they were shining. “It scares me.”

  I swallowed hard. “Why?”

  You asshole. You know why.

  “Because I’m falling for you, Ryan. I know it’s crazy, I know we just met, I know you don’t have feelings for me, but it’s the truth. And I—”

  “Come with me.” Before I could stop myself, I’d grabbed her by the hand, blown out the candle, and was pulling her through the living room, out the front door, and across the lawn.

  Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, I told myself with every long stride, every thunderous beat of my heart. Just feel. For once, just let yourself fucking feel.

  Up the porch steps. Into the house. Shut the front door.

  As soon as it was closed, I pushed her back against it and crushed my mouth to hers, my body to hers, my soul to hers. I put my hands in her hair. I reached beneath her dress. I lifted her up so her legs wrapped around my waist and held her aloft, my fingers digging into her firm thighs.

  Her breath came as hot and frantically as mine, as though there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. Her hands moved through my hair, over my jaw, down my neck. “I want you,” she panted against my lips. “God, I want you so badly.”

  “I want you too,” I told her, the words spilling heedlessly from my mouth, if not from my heart, “and you’re wrong. I do have feelings for you.”

  She took my face in her hands. “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  “But—but you don’t feel things like this. You told me you don’t. You shut down.”

  “I don’t want to shut down with you,” I said as that ache in my chest widened and deepened. It filled with a rush of emotion for her—warmth and passion and a ferocious urge to keep her safe. To make her mine. To be the only one who got to touch her this way.

  To be the one she loved.

  “Then don’t,” she begged, pressing kisses all over my face, eyelids and nose and temples and chin. “Don’t close yourself off. Let me in.”

  “I want to,” I said, my forehead resting on hers, my hands clutching her thighs. “I’ll try.”

  Her mouth found mine, her tongue slipping between my lips. My body was on fire, radiating with heat and desire for her, with an energy it couldn’t contain. I turned to the stairs, too impatient to make it to my bedroom. Setting her down on a step, I dragged her underwear off her legs and wrestled my shirt and undershirt from my body in one movement. When I saw her lying back on her elbows, knees open, her dress at her waist, I dove between her legs and buried my tongue in her pussy.

  She writhed and moaned above me. I pressed her thighs wider apart and devoured every inch of her that I could. I licked and sucked and stroked. I went slow enough to drive her crazy and fast enough to make her scream. I fucked her with my tongue.

  I’d never get enough, not if I had her for a million years. It would never be enough.

  I slid two fingers inside her as I sucked her clit and felt h
er body go stiff. Her hand fisted in my hair. My name fell from her lips. Her cries grew louder and louder until finally, her body was seized with convulsions and her pussy clenched repeatedly around my fingers. God, I wanted my cock right there. I was so hard it hurt.

  I moved above her. Her hands were fumbling with my belt and I took over, unbuckling, unbuttoning, unzipping. Shoving my jeans down my thighs.

  Within seconds I was easing into her, both of us groaning loudly. She was warm and wet and soft and swollen and so fucking beautiful this way, her hair disheveled, her mouth open, her body all mine. I went slow and deep, praying to God I wouldn’t come too soon. I reached beneath her and tilted her hips the way she’d shown me last night, trying to get the right angle.

  “Yes,” she panted, her hands on my ass. “Oh fuck, that’s perfect. Right there …”

  “Come for me,” I demanded, fucking her hard and fast. “I want you to come for me … now, now …”

  A second later I was lost to it, my orgasm crashing through my body like a hurricane against the shore, my cock pulsing deep within her. She clung and quivered and gasped beneath me, reaching her second climax just as I reached my first.

  And all I could think of as our bodies trembled and stilled together was that I was more than just alive. I was in love. I was trusted. I was understood.

  I didn’t have to be alone.

  “I’m in love with you,” I said, my heart about to explode from my chest. Both of us were breathing heavy.

  She went absolutely still. “What?”

  I picked up my head, propped my arms on the step beneath her shoulders. “I’m in love with you.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Do you mean it?”

  “Yeah.” I laughed a little. “I do. I didn’t really plan on saying that out loud, but I don’t want to take it back.”

  She gasped. “No! Don’t take it back.” Her arms twined around my neck and she pulled me closer, burying her face in my neck. “I’m in love with you too. Oh my God. This doesn’t feel real.”

  “I know.”

  “How did it happen so fast?”

  “I have no fucking clue.”

  She loosened her hold on me a little and pulled back to look at me. Her expression was smug. “I knew you were the man in my dreams.”

  Eventually, we made it up to my bedroom, where we undressed all the way and slipped between fresh clean sheets.

  “I love that you make the bed so nicely, but we really need to get you a frame or something,” she said, rubbing my chest with one hand, her chin propped in the other.

  I lay on my back, hands behind my head. I felt better than I had in fucking years. Lighter. Happier. Hopeful. “Okay.”

  Her hand stopped moving. “That was easy.”

  “The frame won’t be for me. It’ll be for you. I could sleep anywhere.”

  “Do you think you’ll stay in this house?” she asked.

  “Probably through the winter. I’ve still got a lot of work to do on it to get it ready for sale in the spring.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Is that what you love to do? Fix up houses? Or do you like the grounds keeping work more?”

  “I like both, I guess. I like working with my hands, doing something different every day.” I hesitated, then went on. “Back in Ohio, before I re-enlisted, I was enrolled in college classes to get my degree in landscape architecture.”

  “What happened?”

  I looked at the ceiling. “I hated it. Couldn’t stand being in classes with all these entitled little assholes who complained about the most trivial shit you can imagine. I’d just stare at them and feel this … rage. I couldn’t take it. Decided college wasn’t for me.”

  She nodded. “Is that when you were married?”

  “Yeah. That was another thing that pissed her off. She didn’t understand why I couldn’t just ignore everyone around me and get through it.”

  “God, what a bitch.”

  “Yeah. She was.” Then I laughed.

  “What’s funny?”

  “You calling someone a name. It’s not like you.”

  She sighed. “No. It isn’t. But I couldn’t help it.”

  “It’s okay.” I moved closer to her and gathered her in my arms, kissed the top of her head. “You weren’t wrong.”

  We lay there for a minute or two, her head on my chest, our breathing deep and rhythmic in the dark.

  “How many times have you been in love?” she asked softly.

  “Once.”

  “With your ex-wife?”

  “With you.”

  She sat up and looked at me. “Really?”

  “Really. I barely tolerated her.”

  “Why’d you marry her?”

  “Good question.”

  “I’m serious. Why?”

  “Can’t you tell me? You’re the expert.”

  She poked my chest. “You’re the expert on you, Ryan. I just like to listen.”

  I inhaled and exhaled, trying to think of one good reason I’d gotten married. “I guess I was trying to feel normal, and getting married seemed like what a normal guy would do in my situation. And she seemed willing to put up with my shit, at least initially. But I didn’t feel anything for her. Not like this.”

  “Do you … do you feel normal now?”

  I wanted to answer honestly. “Not completely,” I said. “But I’m not sure I’ll ever feel normal, Stella. Hell, I don’t even know for sure what it is. I can do normal things and act like everyone else, but inside, I don’t know how to be anyone but me.”

  She nestled against my side again and wrapped her arms around me. “That’s okay. I don’t want you to be anyone but you. If you don’t want to be normal, you don’t have to be.”

  I kissed the top of her head again and held her close. “Right now, I feel safe and understood, and to me, that’s even better than normal.”

  She pressed her lips to my chest. “I feel safe too.”

  “Good.” I closed my eyes and prayed it could last.

  Twenty-Seven

  Stella

  The following morning was Saturday, so I was surprised when I woke up and found myself alone again. Dismayed, I pulled on my bra and underwear, and tugged my dress over my head. When I opened the bedroom door, I expected to see another note on the floor.

  But nothing was there.

  Then I heard something in the kitchen, and when I sniffed, I smelled bacon. Slowly, I made my way toward the kitchen and pushed open the swinging door. Then I gasped.

  Ryan was cooking breakfast.

  “Good morning,” he said, slinging a towel over his bare shoulder.

  “Good morning. This is a surprise.”

  “Your grandmother gave me the idea last night when she said your grandfather liked to make breakfast on Saturday mornings.” He glanced at the stove. “I’m doing my best here, but I’ll admit—the hash browns were frozen.”

  I laughed, coming closer to the stove, where eggs were frying in one pan and hash browns sizzled in another. On the counter, strips of crispy bacon rested on a paper-towel-lined plate. My stomach rumbled. “That’s okay. It all looks great.”

  I noticed grocery bags on the floor. “Did you go to the store this morning?”

  “Yeah. You were sound asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you. You’re a heavy sleeper, did you know that?”

  “I’ve been told,” I said, feeling heat in my cheeks. “Can I help?”

  “Nope. I’ve got this.” He nodded toward the kitchen table, where two cups of coffee in to-go cups stood in a cardboard carrier. “I got us some coffee. I wasn’t sure how you took yours, so there’s cream and sugar there, too.”

  “Thank you.” I shook my head. “This is kind of surreal, you know.”

  He grinned and flipped an egg. “Believe me. I know.”

  After breakfast, we agreed to go for a run as soon as our bellies could handle it.

  “We probably shouldn’t wait too long,” Ryan said, checking out the sky as he walked me b
ack to Grams’s house. “Looks like rain today.”

  “You’ll probably have to slow down for me,” I warned him.

  “I doubt it.” He glanced down at my legs. “I bet you can keep up.”

  I smiled as we approached the front porch. “Want to come in?”

  He looked up the steps toward the door. “No, thanks. I don’t really want to face your grandmother the morning after.”

  “I get it. Yesterday morning when I came home, she was right there at the front door, and my shirt was buttoned wrong.” I closed my eyes and shook my head at the memory. “So embarrassing.”

  He laughed. “She seems pretty enlightened actually.”

  “She is a strange mix of old-fashioned and enlightened.” I paused. “Then again, I guess I am too.”

  Ryan took my face in his hands and kissed me. “It’s a perfect mix.”

  My heart tripped happily. “So about half an hour?”

  He nodded. “I need to check in at work and see if they need me for that wedding, but then I’ll get changed and head over. Even if they do, it likely wouldn’t be until later, and I won’t be all night.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t like thinking that this would be our last night together, but I was so over the moon about everything that had transpired between us, nothing could dampen my spirits. We would make this work. “See you soon.”

  He dropped one last kiss on my forehead and took off at a jog back toward his house. I sighed like a lovesick teenager and floated up the steps.

  Inside the house, I could hear conversation coming from the kitchen. I debated heading right upstairs to change so I could hold tight to my joy a little longer, but decided there would be fun in sharing it too.

  I walked toward the kitchen, finding the door propped open and Emme and Grams at the table. “Good morning!” I sang, dropping into an empty chair.

  “Good morning, dear.” Grams gave me a knowing smile. “Did you have a nice time with your friend?”

  “I did.”

  Emme stared at me. “And?”