“Yes, thank you, Harold. I think that’ll be all for today unless you’ve got anything else?” It’s a dangerous question, especially when I’m betting on the answer being no and Harold Hamish likes to drone on endlessly about his grandchildren. They’re quite lovely, and even smart, but I cannot listen to him wax poetic today of all days. 

Because I have plans.

Plans that involve getting out of my office and over to Fox Industries secondary headquarters. Plans that involve surprising my husband. Plans that require the sweet, kind, smart Mr. Hamish to shut up just this one time. 

I swear to the damn Queen that next time I’ll listen and ooh and aah at the right places, I’ll buy cookie dough for the school fundraiser, and agree that Olivia will definitely get into Oxford on her brilliance alone, never mind that she’s a mere ten years old.

“Oh, well let’s see… We went over the investments, signed off on moving the mutual funds with Nicholas, filed the updated wills with new trusts to reflect Miss Neve joining the Seymour family… It seems we’ve done everything we set out accomplish. Well done, Mrs. Seymour.” He nods, congratulating himself as much as me.

“I’ve told you to call me Elle, Harold.” He smiles congenially, agreeing though we both know he never will. “Oh, speaking of Neve… did I tell you that she took her first steps this week? Barely a year old and she’s already toddling around the Estate. She holds onto the walls when she can, but every so often, she gets brave and let’s go. My brave, beautiful girl.”

And now I’m the one droning on about their kids. 

In my defense, Neve is quite amazing. I might be biased, but I think she’s the cutest baby ever born, with dark blue eyes and dark hair that make her the spitting image of Colton, a daredevil’s wish for excitement like her mother, and yes, named after Nan’s father and Nan herself. 

Neve Dorothy Seymour. 

The name’s a bit British for me, but since she’s being raised here in London at the Estate, it suits her. And it’s definitely better than Neville, though Nan rallied hard for that and wouldn’t give up until Lizzie mentioned that kids would definitely make fun her with a name like that.

Eventually, I’ll Americanize Neve’s fancy British upbringing for balance. I’ve got plans that involve junk food, television shows, and slang, probably all at the same time. But she’s much too young for that now, though I am teaching her to call me ‘mommy’ and not ‘mummy’ because I’m not some old, dried-out, gauze-wrapped scary monster.

“You did, first thing this morning. And yesterday morning as well.” He reminds me that I’m no better than he is.

Braggy and proud of our babes.

And currently, put in my place. I sigh, “Sorry, I can’t help it.” He tilts his head, agreeing with me. “But I do have to go, so quit talking my ear off, Harold.” The fake scolding makes him smile his true smile, which I prefer to his polite lip uptilt. My mission is to make the man bust a gut laughing, but I’m not sure it’s even possible at this point. 

He gathers his things and heads out of my office. I sigh happily and look around. It’s light and bright, and an utter mess. From the piles of papers on my desk to the six pillows in disarray on the couch, from the three, no four glasses set about on various flat surfaces to a trash can filled from just today’s misprints. I wouldn’t change a thing. It might look chaotic, but I know exactly where everything work-related is, and while it might not be everyone’s style, I get shit done.

With Harold’s help. And Nicholas’ too I suppose, considering he oversees the financial aspects of the trusts with me. Nan got her way, and while Colton is neck-deep in Fox Industries, I’m three feet underwater in Seymour family trusts. It’s a full-time job, but with Neve being my number one priority, I depend on Nicholas and Harold quite a bit. We work together, and I get baby snuggles along with financial reports.

“Alright, Office. Hold tight until I get back. We’ll tackle new challenges ay-sap so get some rest.” Okay, so talking to my office as though it’s a coworker is weird, no doubt. But it works for me, so I’m sticking with it. 

I drive down the lane between the Estate and Fox headquarters in our property golf cart. It’d seemed silly at first, and oh so bougie to need a golf cart to get around your own damn land. Being pregnant with Neve had changed my tune on that quickly, and there was no going back. I part next to Colton’s Lotus in the garage. He could just as easily scoot to work in a cart, but he says it sends the wrong message. I think he just wants to be the bigshot with the fancy car. And driving the Lotus makes him so stupidly happy.

Upstairs, I throw a finger in front of my mouth, telling Helen to be quiet. She smiles back before miming zipping her lip. Silently, she asks, “Ready?”

I nod and she picks up the phone. “Mr. Wolfe? Your four o’clock is here. Mrs. Rosalie Woodmire. Can I send her in?” The fake name I chose as a cover story rolls off her tongue easily. 

She nods though Colton can’t see through the phone. “Of course, sir. You too.”

“He’ll see you now, Mrs. Woodmire. Have a good weekend.” She winks and I can’t hold back the giggle that’s trying to escape. I slap my hand over my mouth to quiet it and she takes the opening, whispering, “Where are you going?”

I throw a wink back. “That’s for me to know, and you and Colton to find out.”

She folds a hand at the wrist dismissing me. “He won’t tell me a thing and you know it.”

I tap my nose because she’s right on the money. I have plans for the weekend and starting with me walking through those doors, and I hope Helen never hears a single word about them.

* * *

Colton

Elle thinks she’s so slick and sly. She is neither, not in the least. When she tries to plan surprises, she’s gets ridiculously happy, virtually bouncing around the house like she’s had a double dose of cupcakes and coffee. And if I’d had any doubts, I walked into the bedroom yesterday and she slammed her laptop closed so hard that I thought she’d busted the screen. Before I could say a word or ask a question, she bit out, “Nothing. What are you doing?” 

But despite not being surprised that she’s up to something, I don’t know much past that. I didn’t want to ruin her fun. Though I did catch the too-obvious clue of her fake name and called the Rosewood Hotel to make sure we’re greeted with champagne and strawberries in our room. A surprise of my own.

I dismissed Helen for the day, letting her begin her weekend a bit early, because I hope our surprise is going to start right now.

I come around to the front of my desk, leaning on the edge and crossing my ankles and arms to strike a pose. Aggressive and powerful, but I know Elle will find me attractive as well. The door opens agonizingly slow.

“Sir?” She’s thrown her voice high and is doing a passable accent.

“Yes, Mrs. Woodmire, please come in.” Honeyed sex coats and drips from each slow syllable, and suddenly the door flies open, banging against the wall behind it.

“What the hell, Seymour? Is that how you greet every new client on your schedule?” Elle’s hands are on her hips, her cheeks are flushed bright pink, and her eyes are shooting sparks of fire.

“Hello, love.” I don’t move, though I know my lips quirk as I try to keep a straight face. I don’t want to piss her off further, especially when she’s already using just my last name.

She stomps over and drops into a chair in front of me, beleaguered and wilting. “You knew, didn’t you?”

I let the smile free, my only answer.

“How?”

“I have my ways. But I don’t know any more than this.” I let my arms fall open wide, telling her that I’m hiding nothing from her. “Actually, I take that back. Nan did say she was excited to watch Neve this weekend. At the time, I thought she meant she would be spending some time with her, now I suppose she’s babysitting? She’ll be thrilled.”

Elle crosses her arms now, mirroring my previous pose. “Neve is staying with Nan, GranMary, and Lizzie, who will no doubt be fighting over holding her and will spoil her rotten. But I’m choosing to be okay with that, because we have plans, mister. Plans you’re ruining with all that…” One hand breaks free to wipe at the air in front of me, “…knowledge.” She huffs disappointment.

“How about if I make it up to you?”

Her brow rises incrementally and I can feel that I’m reeling her in. “I’m listening.”

“I dare you…” 

Oh, her breath catches at that. She means it to be inaudible, probably doesn’t even mean to make a noise at all. But though it’s been years since we started this game of dares that fateful day in my office, we still like to use it as a way to add some spice to our days.

Sometimes, it’s silly. Sometimes, it’s sexy. Like now.

“I dare you… to spread those thighs and let me apologize for spoiling your fun on my knees.” I lick my lips, already anticipating her sweet taste.

She tracks the appearance of my tongue with her eyes and then looks down. She’s not playing demure; she’s directing me where to look with her intentional gaze. I watch rapt as she spreads her legs, teasing her skirt up to let me see the lacy edge of her thigh highs. 

“Fuckin’ hell, love. You know those things drive me bonkers. Show me more.” I want it to be an order, but it’s a plea. 

One she takes evil delight in following with the speed of a sedated sloth. I shake my head, not wanting to think about animals, American idioms or not. Her skirt moves up millimeter by millimeter and I devour her skin with my eyes. Needing more, I put my hands on the arms of the chair and push it back, creating space for me to drop to my knees. From this angle, I can see more, but not everything, not yet. She’s still keeping that damn skirt in my way.

I start with a soft kiss to the skin just above the lace of her stockings, tracing the scalloped edge with my tongue. And that’s enough. With a sigh, she gives in fully… to me, to the dare, to her desire.

She pulls her skirt up the rest of the way, revealing that though she’s wearing thigh highs, she’s forgone knickers. I think I growl something incomprehensible as I bury my tongue in her slit, but I can’t be sure because my every thought is of tasting her. I tease along her slickness, swallowing her down, before I circle her clit.

“Right there, Colton.” Her hands leave her skirt, where she was gripping it in fisted hands, to bury into my hair. She’s bold and hungry, pulling me to her, directing me right where she wants me and I oblige happily.

I seal my lips over her clit, sucking and licking as she bucks against me, using me for her pleasure. She steals my breath from me, but I don’t even care, not willing to tap out when I can feel how close she is to coming. I groan into her, letting the vibration send her over and she detonates against me, crying out my name.

She sags, legs askew and arms flopped over the arms of the chair, and her head lolls back as she pants. My breathing matches hers, finally getting oxygen, but it’s all Elle scented and flavored. “Fucking delicious, love.” She rolls her head, meeting my eyes with her blissed-out ones. “Apology accepted, I take it?”

Cocky arrogance, for sure. But I know what drives her wild, know how to work her body, know that right now, there’s some manic chanting about rainbow sprinkles and unicorns in her mind. I don’t understand why sex makes her think of mythical creatures, but I chose long ago to take it as a compliment.

“Apology accepted. As long as you promise you don’t know anything else.” She closes one eye, as if taking aim at me.

“Oh.” I clear my throat. “Well…”

“What?” Her eyes are clear and sharp now. “What else do you know, Seymour?”

Shit. Last name again. Whatever ground I’d made up on my knees, I’ve lost. “Well, your name on my calendar was Rosalie Woodmire, love. I just made sure the Rosewood would have some scrummy goodies for us upon arrival. That’s it though, I swear it.”

I’m waiting for her cat-fight smacks, something she reserves for the very rare occasions I really mess up. Like ruining a surprise she’s been planning for days.

What I’m not expecting is for her to shrug. “Oh, well if that’s all, then you can drive us to the Rosewood then. Let’s go.”

She gets up, virtually stepping over me, and sways her heart-shaped ass towards the door.

“Love? You’re not upset?” I’m usually a smart man, but this is not one of my finer moments. You should never invite your beloved’s anger, encourage them to find some when they’re letting something go with ease. The only excuse for my folly is that she makes me utterly stupid with love for her and the majority of my blood is centered in my rock-hard cock, leaving precious little to circulate through my brain.

“Nope.” She pops the -p as she poses in the doorway, her eyes dancing, and I realize something. Something important.

I truly only know that she’s reserved the Rosewood and gotten care for Neve handled. I have no idea what my beautiful wife has in store for me. And with her, there’s absolutely no telling.

Maybe we’ll revisit the London Eye, now that we’re finally allowed to?  Maybe we’ll have a fancy dinner? Maybe we’ll behave like tourists and take photos all over Soho? Go dancing? Sightseeing? See a show? Or stay locked in our hotel room for forty-eight hours straight, delighting in each other’s bodies with all manner of dares that break rule two and even rule three in some countries? 

My biggest happiness is that I have no idea what my lovely she-devil has planned. I can’t wait to see.

I’m up off my knees and following her as quickly as I can, shoving her out the door. “Then let’s go, love.”

Turns out, I’m right on so many accounts…

We do eat a fancy dinner, naked in our room. And we do take photos, though not as tourists and for our eyes only. And we do christen every flat surface at least once, and the bed several times over. 

It’s wild and crazy, ridiculous and reckless, and so much fun. 

It’s a weekend of dares done and love shared. Exactly how I want to live every day with Elle.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed The Dare and had as much fun with it as I did! 

If you want to read another of my books with a similar vibe, check out My Big Fat Fake Wedding. Read on for a preview!

Épilogue bonus

Elle

— Oui, merci, Harold. Je pense que ce sera tout pour aujourd’hui, à moins que vous n’ayez autre chose ?

C’est une question dangereuse, surtout quand je parie que la réponse sera négative et qu’Harold Hamish aime parler sans fin de ses petits-enfants. Ils sont charmants, et même intelligents, mais je ne peux pas l’écouter s’épancher sur le sujet aujourd’hui.

Parce que j’ai des projets.

Des projets qui impliquent de sortir de mon bureau et d’aller au siège secondaire de Fox Industries. Des projets qui impliquent de surprendre mon mari. Des projets qui impliquent que l’adorable, gentil et intelligent M. Hamish se taise pour cette fois.

Je jure devant la reine que la prochaine fois, j’écouterai et je ferai des « oh » et des « ah » aux bons moments, j’achèterai de la pâte à biscuits pour la collecte de fonds de l’école et je conviendrai qu’Olivia entrera certainement à Oxford grâce à son intelligence, sans tenir compte du fait qu’elle n’a que dix ans.

— Oh, voyons voir… Nous avons revu les investissements, signé le transfert des fonds communs de placement avec Nicholas, déposé les testaments mis à jour avec les nouvelles fiducies pour refléter l’entrée de Mlle Neve dans la famille Seymour… Il semble que nous ayons fait le tour Bien joué, madame Seymour.

Il hoche la tête, se félicitant lui-même autant que moi.

— Je vous dis de m’appeler Elle, Harold.

Il sourit aimablement, même si nous savons tous deux qu’il ne le fera jamais.

— Oh, en parlant de Neve… Je vous ai dit qu’elle a fait ses premiers pas cette semaine ? Elle a à peine un an et elle gambade déjà dans le domaine. Elle s’accroche aux murs quand elle peut, mais de temps en temps, elle prend son courage à deux mains et se laisse aller. Ma belle et courageuse fille.

Et maintenant, c’est moi qui parle de mon enfant.

Pour ma défense, Neve est assez incroyable. Je suis peut-être partiale, mais je pense que c’est le bébé le plus mignon, avec des yeux bleu foncé et des cheveux sombres qui font d’elle le portrait craché de Colton, l’enthousiasme casse-cou de sa mère, et oui, elle porte le nom du père de Nan et de Nan elle-même.

Neve Dorothy Seymour.

Le nom est un peu britannique pour moi, mais comme elle est élevée ici, à Londres, au Domaine, ça lui va bien. Et c’est bien mieux que Neville, bien que Nan se soit battue pour ça et n’ait pas voulu abandonner jusqu’à ce que Lizzie mentionne que les enfants se moqueraient d’elle avec un tel nom.

Je finirai par américaniser l’éducation britannique de Neve pour équilibrer le tout. J’ai des projets qui impliquent de la malbouffe, des émissions de télévision et de l’argot, probablement tout ça en même temps. Mais elle est beaucoup trop jeune pour ça pour l’instant, même si je lui apprends à m’appeler « maman » et non « mama » parce que je ne suis pas un vieux monstre effrayant, desséché et enveloppé de gaze.

— Oui, à la première heure ce matin. Et hier matin aussi.

Il me rappelle que je ne suis pas meilleure que lui.

Vantards et fiers de nos bébés.

Et actuellement, remise à ma place.

— Désolée, soupiré-je, je ne peux pas m’en empêcher.

Il incline la tête, d’accord avec moi.

— Mais je dois y aller, alors arrêtez de me faire la morale, Harold.

La fausse réprimande le fait sourire pleinement, ce que je préfère à son inclinaison polie des lèvres. Ma mission est de le faire rire aux éclats, mais je ne suis pas sûre que ce soit possible à ce stade.

Il rassemble ses affaires et sort de mon bureau. Je soupire joyeusement et regarde autour de moi. C’est clair et lumineux, et c’est le bazar total. Des piles de papiers sur mon bureau aux six oreillers en désordre sur le canapé, des trois, non, quatre verres posés sur diverses surfaces planes à la poubelle remplie des fautes d’impression du jour. Je ne veux rien changer. Cela peut sembler chaotique, mais je sais exactement où se trouve tout ce qui est lié au travail, et même si ce n’est pas le style de tout le monde, je fais ce qu’il faut.

Avec l’aide d’Harold. Et de Nicholas aussi, je suppose, vu qu’il supervise les aspects financiers des trusts avec moi. Nan a fait ce qu’elle voulait, et pendant que Colton s’occupe de Fox Industries, je m’occupe des fonds de la famille Seymour. C’est un travail à plein temps, mais Neve étant ma priorité numéro un, je dépends beaucoup de Nicholas et Harold. On travaille ensemble, et je reçois des câlins de bébé en même temps que les rapports financiers.

— Très bien, bureau. Tiens bon jusqu’à mon retour. Nous nous attaquerons à de nouveaux défis bientôt, alors repose-toi.

D’accord, parler à mon bureau comme si c’était un collègue est bizarre, sans aucun doute. Mais ça marche pour moi, alors je m’y tiens.

Je descends l’allée entre le domaine et le quartier général de Fox dans notre voiturette de golf. Au début, ça m’avait semblé idiot, et tellement chic d’avoir besoin d’une voiture de golf pour se déplacer sur son propre terrain. Être enceinte de Neve m’a fait changer d’avis rapidement, et je ne peux plus revenir en arrière. Je me gare à côté de la Lotus de Colton dans le garage. Il pourrait tout aussi bien se rendre au travail en voiturette, mais il dit que cela envoie un mauvais message. Je pense qu’il veut juste être le gros bonnet avec la voiture de luxe. Et conduire la Lotus le rend stupidement heureux.

À l’étage, je pose un doigt devant ma bouche, pour dire à Helen de se taire. Elle sourit en retour avant de mimer la fermeture de sa lèvre.

— Prête ? articule-t-elle silencieusement.

Je hoche la tête et elle décroche le téléphone.

— M. Wolfe ? Votre rendez-vous de quatre heures est là. Mme Rosalie Woodmire. Puis-je la faire entrer ?

Le faux nom que j’ai choisi pour me couvrir roule facilement sur sa langue.

Elle opine du chef bien que Colton ne puisse pas la voir à travers le téléphone.

— Bien sûr, monsieur. Vous aussi.

— Il va vous recevoir maintenant, madame Woodmire. Passez un bon week-end.

Elle fait un clin d’œil et je ne peux retenir le rire qui tente de s’échapper. Je mets ma main sur ma bouche pour me faire taire et elle en profite pour chuchoter :

— Où allez-vous ?

Je lui fais un clin d’œil.

— Moi, je le sais, à vous et Colton de le découvrir.

— Il ne me dira rien et vous le savez.

Je sais qu’elle a raison. J’ai des projets pour ce week-end, à commencer par moi franchissant ces portes, et j’espère que Helen n’en entendra jamais parler.

* * *

Colton

Elle pense qu’elle est si habile et rusée. Elle n’est ni l’un ni l’autre, pas le moins du monde. Quand elle essaie de préparer des surprises, elle devient ridiculement heureuse, sautillant pratiquement dans la maison comme si elle avait mangé une double ration de gâteaux et de café. Et si j’avais des doutes, quand je suis entré dans la chambre hier, elle a fermé son ordinateur portable si fort que j’ai cru qu’elle avait cassé l’écran. Avant que j’aie pu dire un mot ou poser une question, elle m’a sorti :

— Rien. Qu’est-ce que tu fais, toi ?

Même si je ne suis pas surpris qu’elle prépare quelque chose, je n’en sais pas beaucoup plus. Je ne voulais pas gâcher son plaisir. Mais j’ai compris l’indice trop évident de son faux nom et j’ai appelé l’hôtel Rosewood pour m’assurer que nous serions accueillis avec du champagne et des fraises dans notre chambre. Une surprise de ma part.

J’ai congédié Helen pour la journée, la laissant démarrer son week-end un peu plus tôt, car j’espère que notre surprise va commencer dès maintenant.

Je m’appuie sur le bord à l’avant de mon bureau et croise mes chevilles et mes bras pour prendre la pose. Agressif et puissant, mais je sais qu’Elle me trouvera également attirant. La porte s’ouvre avec une lenteur atroce.

— Monsieur ?

Sa voix est aiguë et elle feint un accent acceptable.

— Oui, madame Woodmire, entrez, je vous en prie.

Le sexe enveloppe et dégouline de chaque syllabe, et soudain la porte s’ouvre d’un coup sec, cognant contre le mur derrière elle.

— C’est quoi ce bordel, Seymour ? C’est comme ça que tu accueilles chaque nouveau client sur ton planning ?

Elle a posé ses mains sur ses hanches, ses joues sont rouges et ses yeux font des étincelles.

— Bonjour, mon amour.

Je ne bouge pas, même si je sais que mes lèvres frémissent alors que j’essaie de garder un visage impassible. Je ne veux pas l’énerver davantage, d’autant plus qu’elle n’utilise que mon nom de famille.

Elle s’approche et se laisse tomber sur un fauteuil en face de moi, éprouvée.

— Tu savais, n’est-ce pas ?

Je souris enfin, pour seule réponse.

— Comment ?

— J’ai mes petits secrets. Mais je n’en sais pas plus que ça.

Je laisse mes bras s’ouvrir en grand, pour lui prouver que je ne lui cache rien.

— En fait, je retire ce que j’ai dit. Nan a dit qu’elle avait hâte de voir Neve ce week-end. Sur le moment, j’ai pensé qu’elle voulait dire qu’elle allait passer du temps avec elle, maintenant je suppose qu’elle fait du baby-sitting ? Elle va être ravie.

Elle croise les bras maintenant, reflétant ma pose précédente.

— Neve reste avec Nan, Grand-Mary et Lizzie, qui vont sans doute se battre pour la porter et la gâter. Mais je choisis d’être d’accord avec ça, parce que nous avons des projets, monsieur. Des projets que vous ruinez avec toutes ces…

Une main se libère pour essuyer l’air devant moi.

— … connaissances, finit-elle en soufflant de déception.

— Et si je me faisais pardonner ?

Ses sourcils se lèvent progressivement et je sens que je l’intéresse.

— J’écoute.

— Je te défie…

Elle a le souffle coupé. Elle veut que ce soit inaudible, elle ne veut probablement pas faire de bruit du tout. Mais bien que des années se soient écoulées depuis que nous avons commencé ces défis ce jour fatidique dans mon bureau, nous aimons toujours l’utiliser comme un moyen d’ajouter un peu de piment à nos journées.

Parfois, c’est stupide. Parfois, c’est sexy. Comme maintenant.

— Je te défie… d’écarter ces cuisses et de me laisser m’excuser d’avoir gâché ton plaisir sur mes genoux.

Je me lèche les lèvres, anticipant son goût sucré.

Elle suit ma langue du regard, puis baisse les yeux. Elle ne joue pas les demoiselles ; elle m’indique où regarder avec son coup d’œil intentionnel. Je l’admire avec ravissement alors qu’elle écarte les jambes et relève sa jupe pour me laisser voir le bord dentelé de ses cuissardes.

— Putain de merde, mon amour. Tu sais que ces choses me rendent dingue. Montre-m’en plus.

Je préférerais que ce soit un ordre, mais c’est une supplique.

Une qu’elle prend un malin plaisir à suivre à la vitesse d’un paresseux sous sédatif. Je secoue la tête, refusant de penser aux animaux, idiomes américains ou pas. Sa jupe remonte millimètre par millimètre et je dévore sa peau des yeux. Ayant besoin de plus, je pose mes mains sur les bras du fauteuil et le repousse, créant ainsi un espace pour me mettre à genoux. De cet angle, je peux en voir plus, mais pas tout, pas encore. Il y a toujours cette foutue jupe sur mon chemin.

Je commence par un doux baiser sur la peau juste au-dessus de la dentelle de ses bas, en traçant le bord festonné avec ma langue. Et c’est suffisant. Avec un soupir, elle s’abandonne totalement… À moi, au défi, à son désir.

Elle remonte sa jupe complètement, révélant que, même si elle porte des cuissardes, elle n’a pas de culotte. Je crois que je grogne quelque chose d’incompréhensible en enfonçant ma langue en elle, mais je n’en suis pas sûr car je ne pense qu’à la goûter. Je taquine sa peau, l’avale, avant de faire le tour de son clitoris.

— Juste là, Colton.

Ses mains quittent sa jupe, qu’elle tenait à poings fermés, pour s’enfouir dans mes cheveux. Elle est audacieuse et affamée, me tirant vers elle, me dirigeant juste là où elle veut que je sois, et je m’y plie avec joie.

Je referme mes lèvres sur son clitoris, l’aspirant et le léchant tandis qu’elle se débat contre moi, m’utilisant pour son plaisir. Elle me coupe le souffle, mais je m’en moque, je ne suis pas prêt à m’arrêter quand je sens qu’elle est sur le point de jouir. Je gémis contre elle, laissant les vibrations la faire basculer et elle explose contre moi, criant mon nom.

Elle s’affaisse, les jambes de travers et les bras repliés sur les accoudoirs du fauteuil, et sa tête se penche en arrière tandis qu’elle halète. Ma respiration correspond à la sienne, l’oxygène de retour dans mes poumons, mais tout est parfumé et aromatisé par Elle.

— Putain, c’est délicieux, mon amour.

Elle roule la tête, rencontrant mon regard avec ses yeux béats.

— Excuses acceptées, je suppose ?

De l’arrogance mélangée à de l’insolence, c’est sûr. Mais je sais ce qui la rend folle, je sais comment m’occuper de son corps, je sais qu’en ce moment même il y a un chant maniaque à propos d’arcs-en-ciel et de licornes dans son esprit. Je ne comprends pas pourquoi le sexe lui fait penser à des créatures mythiques, mais j’ai choisi depuis longtemps de le prendre comme un compliment.

— Excuses acceptées. Tant que tu promets que tu ne sais rien d’autre.

Elle ferme un œil, comme si elle me visait.

— Oh, déclaré-je avant de me racler la gorge. Eh bien…

— Quoi ?

Son regard est vif à présent.

— Que sais-tu d’autre, Seymour ?

Merde. Encore le nom de famille. Quel que soit le terrain que j’avais gagné sur mes genoux, je l’ai perdu.

— Eh bien, le nom sur mon calendrier était Rosalie Woodmire, mon amour. J’ai juste fait en sorte que le Rosewood ait de délicieuses friandises pour nous à notre arrivée. C’est tout, je le jure.

J’attends ses coups de griffes, qu’elle réserve pour les très rares occasions où je me plante vraiment. Comme gâcher une surprise qu’elle a préparée pendant des jours.

Ce à quoi je ne m’attendais pas, c’est qu’elle hausse les épaules.

— Oh, bien, si c’est tout, tu peux nous conduire au Rosewood alors. Allons-y.

Elle se lève, m’enjambant virtuellement, et balance son cul en forme de cœur vers la porte.

— Mon amour ? Tu n’es pas contrariée ?

En général, je suis un homme intelligent, mais ce n’est pas un de mes meilleurs moments. Il ne faut jamais inviter la colère de sa bien-aimée, l’encourager à en trouver quand elle laisse passer quelque chose avec facilité. La seule excuse à ma folie est qu’elle me rend complètement stupide d’amour et que la majorité de mon sang est concentrée dans mon sexe dur comme de la pierre, en laissant très peu pour circuler dans mon cerveau.

— Non.

Elle se poste dans l’embrasure de la porte, ses yeux dansent, et je réalise quelque chose. Quelque chose d’important.

Je sais seulement qu’elle a réservé une chambre au Rosewood et qu’elle s’est occupée de trouver une garde pour Neve. Je n’ai aucune idée de ce que ma belle épouse me réserve. Et avec elle, c’est impossible de deviner.

Peut-être qu’on revisitera le London Eye, maintenant qu’on en a enfin le droit ? Peut-être que nous irons dîner dans un restaurant chic ? Peut-être qu’on se comportera comme des touristes et qu’on prendra des photos dans tout Soho ? Aller danser ? Faire du tourisme ? Voir un spectacle ? Ou rester enfermés dans notre chambre d’hôtel pendant quarante-huit heures d’affilée, à se délecter du corps de l’autre avec toutes sortes de défis qui enfreignent la règle deux et même la règle trois dans certains pays ?

Ce qui me plaît le plus, c’est que je n’ai aucune idée de ce que mon adorable diablesse a prévu. J’ai hâte de voir ça.

Je me lève et la suis aussi vite que possible, la poussant vers la porte.

— Alors allons-y, mon amour.

Il s’avère que j’ai raison sur de nombreux points…

On mange un dîner chic, nus dans notre chambre. Et nous prenons des photos, mais pas comme des touristes et pour nous seulement. Et nous baptisons chaque surface plane au moins une fois, et le lit plusieurs fois.

C’est sauvage et fou, ridicule et imprudent, et tellement amusant.

C’est un week-end de défis à relever et d’amour à partager. Exactement comme je veux vivre chaque jour avec Elle.

Merci pour votre lecture ! J’espère que vous avez aimé En pleine action et qu’il vous aura fait rire autant que moi !

Si vous souhaitez découvrir un autre de mes livres avec le même humour, découvrez Mon mariage chic en toc !

Poppy

“Thank you,” I tell my mother, Becky. From behind me, where she’s just finished zipping up my dress, she meets my gaze in the mirror.

“You look beautiful, baby,” she chokes out with tears in her eyes. “Truthfully, I wasn’t sure we’d ever see this day. Unless you married the Chinese food delivery driver.”

I tilt my head, looking off into the distance, with my hand on my heart. “Ah, poor Dan. Our love was never meant to be, for I only called on him for the sweet and sour chicken needed to sustain my body, while he came to my door for a mere glimpse of my beauty to sustain his soul.”

Mom rolls her eyes and swats my butt. “You are such a brat. Is flowery language like that what you write?”

I laugh, “Definitely not, Mom. And for the love of cock and balls, do not read my latest book.”

She makes a face of distaste. “Language, Poppy. You know I support you, one hundred percent. But I can do that without reading sex scenes written by my daughter. It kind of kills the mood, if you know what I mean. But I did read one of Aleria’s books. It was quite… inspiring.”

“La la la la,” I sing loudly, putting my fingers in my ears.

Aleria, Daysha, Becca, and Jasmine all laugh along with my mom. At least Caylee gives me a look of pity, though she’s fighting off a smile too. Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I remove my fingers and listen to them again.

“Thanks, Mama Woodstock,” Aleria tells my mom. “I have another one coming out soon. Maybe I could send you an advanced copy?”

“Could you? I would love that,” Mom says happily, before confiding, “So would Steven.”

“Mahm!” I shout.

But truthfully, I’m happy that my parents still love each other and – gag! – have a healthy sex life. Nope… nope… gag… can’t do it… don’t want to think about that on my wedding day.

Mom takes pity on me and pats my hand. “What else do you need to do? It’s almost time to head out to the beach. Where’s the wedding planner?”

As if Mom summoned her, the hotel’s wedding planner opens the door to my bridal suite. “Knock, knock. How’s everything going in here?”

Paula has been a great help because planning a destination wedding is difficult to do from thousands of miles away. But Caylee was right. Escaping for a small celebration is about a bajillion times better than a big event like she had. Best of all? No need to invite bitchy Aunt Audrey or smarmy cousin Ian.

Nope, only the people we love the most and that love us have been invited. Especially since I used my next big advance to pay for the whole trip for everyone. Both Connor’s and my parents had argued about that at first, but when I gave them a little hint about how well my Great Falls series is doing and how excited the publisher is for my next series, they’d smiled proudly and agreed.

“I think we’re all set,” I tell Paula. “Hair, makeup, dress, shoes, jewelry. Anything I’m missing?”

“Flowers!” Becca yells. She’s on floral duty today and is taking her job seriously. She carefully hands me the small bouquet of bright red poppy flowers.

Paula nods as she looks each of us over, doing some checklist in her mind. I trust her experience and let her work her magic, brushing lint here and fixing hair there. “Okay, let’s get you married, Poppy.”

Paula speaks into her walkie talkie, “Moving with the bridal party. Is the coast clear?”

Through the static, a frenzied voice comes back. “Negative. Give me a minute, Paula. I’m looking for the groom.”

“What?” I screech. “Looking for the groom? Where the fuck is he?” I scramble to grab the walkie from Paula, but she has a death grip on it.

“Excuse me for just a moment,” Paula says, nearly running out the door.

I turn to my girls. “Where is he? Do you think something’s wrong? Maybe he changed his mind? Or an old FBI target came back to get him?” Ideas run through my mind, one after another, each worse than the last. “Maybe he got kidnapped by the local cartel and they’re going to demand a ransom? Or what if he just… doesn’t want me?”

Mom takes my hands, “Honey, calm down. I’m sure it’s fine.”

There’s no stopping this train to Clusterfuck Station though. “Fine?! Connor’s missing! It’s not fine.”

Aleria shoves my mom out of the way, “Excuse me, Becky.” Aleria takes my hands and crowds up close, nearly nose to nose with me. “Poppy Woodstock, you listen and listen good. Connor loves you. That man is crazy in love with you. And you damn well know it, so calm down. Breathe with me. In through your nose… two, three, four. Out through your mouth… two, three, four.”

I try to breathe with her, I really do. But it’s not working. “You’re sure he hasn’t been kidnapped or something?”

Daysha snorts. “That’d be like the best wedding day gift Connor could get. A chance to kill someone… ahem, I mean ‘arrest them’ like a good FBI agent, and then rush back to his beloved bride’s side. Oh shit, I need to write that down for inspiration. That’s gooood. Where’s my phone?”

Once Connor was officially retired, and truly doing security consultant work, he gave me permission to tell the girls what he used to do. They’re trustworthy and understand needing to keep identities hidden sometimes. Especially after Aleria, who writes under a pen name, had a fan figure out her real identity and show up on her porch one morning with coffee, thinking they were best buds even though they’d never had so much as a conversation before.

Jasmine raises her hand, jumping up and down. “I know where he is! I know where Connor is!”

Saying screw it to Aleria’s breathing exercises, I grab Jasmine by the shoulders. “Where?”

Becca carefully takes my flowers back, ever on the watch for her assigned duty.

Jasmine smiles, “Aleria said it. Connor is crazy and in love with you. Where else would he be but watching you?”

“Huh?” Panic is making my brain slow.

“He’s around here somewhere,” Jasmine waves a hand around, before pointing at me, “checking on you.”

Mother fucker! She’s right.

I hustle to the door and swing it open, poking my head out so no one that happens to pass by can see my dress. “Connor! Are you out here stalking me? You’re supposed to be at the end of the fucking aisle right the fuck now so I can marry you!” I shout down the hall.

Nothing happens for a long five seconds, but I don’t give up. Then, slowly the door across the hall opens a crack and Connor comes out, looking sheepish.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he grunts. “I haven’t seen you in days.”

I smile, not mad anymore. “I missed you too. But it’s only been twenty-four hours.”

“Over two days!” he argues, crossing the hall.

He’s just about to kiss me when Paula comes around the corner. “There you are!” she sighs in relief, but her face changes to all-business a moment later. She speaks into her walkie talkie, “Got him. Meet me by the bridal suite to take him where he’s supposed to be.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m a wayward toddler,” Connor tells Paula, but his eyes are still on mine. “I gotta go. But I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you,” I tell him quickly.

He leans forward, kissing me hard and fast. “Love you too.”

And then he’s gone as Paula shoves Connor toward a guy in black slacks and a polo shirt with the hotel logo on it. “Take him.”

And then Paula turns her attention back to me, one brow raised. I guess I’m in trouble too. If only she knew what Connor and I went through when we first met, she wouldn’t think this was a big deal at all.

“I’m ready.”

Becca shoves my bouquet back into my hands.

“See? All ready.”

* * *

Connor

I walk down the aisle to my place beside the hotel officiant. The ocean and sand provide a beautiful backdrop, and the sun slipping past the horizon is the same bright colors as Poppy’s bouquet that I saw being delivered earlier when I was watching through the peep hole in the room across from her bridal suite. I didn’t doubt that she would show up at the end of the aisle to marry me, but I couldn’t stand to be away from her any longer. I’d just needed a glimpse of her to get me through the day.

Standing here, I’m struck with how much things can change and how quickly. Only a short time ago, I was happily working undercover, never knowing where I would be the next day, week, month, or year. I had no connections other than Hunter, and changed out of personas the way most people change clothes.

Now, I’m rediscovering who I am. As Connor. As a man, a husband-to-be, a friend, and even as a son.

My relationship with my parents isn’t perfect, but we’ve come a long way, finally talking through some of the trauma of losing my grandfather and the difficulties I put them through as a teenager. My dad has even gone to therapy with my mom, and after a few sessions, he started going on his own. So while there is still some stuff to work through, I’m glad they’re here, sitting and watching proudly as I marry the woman I love.

And then none of that matters…

Poppy is standing at the end of the aisle in a floaty, white dress with tiny spaghetti straps. The dress is fit for an angel, but on Poppy, with the fire of the tiki torches flickering nearby and her red hair down in waves, she looks like a goddess. My goddess.

She walks down the aisle, holding her dad’s arm gently. When they reach me, he offers a firm handshake. “Take care of my girl, Connor.”

I nod, but tell him, “We’ll take care of each other.”

Poppy beams and I know that was the right thing to say.

The officiant leads us through vows, but I honestly don’t know what I say or what Poppy says. All I know is that she’s looking at me with love in her eyes. She knows everything, all my bests and worsts, every lie I’ve had to tell, and each of the scars on my soul from what I’ve done for the last long years, and still… she loves me. Not despite of those things, but because of them, because they’re what brought me to her. She accepts me exactly as I am, and as I was. She’s always accepted me, even when she thought I was a thief.

“I love you so much,” I tell her, interrupting whatever the officiant was saying about love and the importance of marriage.

“I love you too,” she responds with a sly smile. Out of the side of her mouth, she whispers, “Hey, can we skip all the love-dovey shit and get to the kissing part? I’m ready to lock this guy down before he realizes how azy-cray I am.”

The officiant clears his throat as our few attendees laugh.

“Uhm, yes… Well, you may seal your vows with a kiss.”

“About time,” I growl.

And then I’m kissing Poppy and she’s kissing me. We did it. Something inside my soul relaxes finally, a warmth I never knew was missing fills my cold, hard center.

Everyone cheers for us, but I keep on kissing her, unwilling to stop. Finally, Caylee yells, “Get a room!”

A laugh rolls through the crowd and even I chuckle, breaking our kiss.

“We’ve got one, so I guess we’ll see you later,” I answer, trying to drag Poppy back to the hotel as I wave goodbye to people.

But she yanks me back, laughing and telling me loudly, “No way! Party first, sex later!”

My mom looks aghast at the outburst, but everyone who knows Poppy knows she acts and speaks first, and thinks later. I’m just glad her mouth or shenanigans haven’t gotten us into any trouble on the island while we’ve been here.

I feign being sad, but I’m excited to celebrate with our friends too. As long as the ‘sex later’ part is equally true. Or maybe we could sneak off for some beach action during the reception and not be missed? That sounds like a great plan.

We make our way toward the small straw-covered patio where we’re holding the reception to find it candle-lit and romantic. Soft island music plays and a few waitstaff are greeting everyone with cocktails. It’s exactly what Poppy said she wanted.

We hit the dance floor, swaying back and forth for our first dance as husband and wife, but quickly invite everyone to join us. Caylee and Evan are up in a flash, loving to dance, and the parents join too. To my surprise, I see Aleria ask Hunter to dance and he begrudgingly accepts.

I move Poppy a little closer to them, eavesdropping casually.

“Your aura is one of the most interesting ones I’ve ever seen. It’s indigo, nearly black with a purple hint, but there are pockets of the prettiest navy. Like a starless night sky.”

Hunter’s brows slam down. “My aura?”

Aleria lifts one hand to brush over Hunter from a few inches away, as though she can feel his aura physically and pet it like a puppy. “Yes. It’s… interesting. Have you ever been saged? I think you would greatly benefit from it. Or tried grounding? It’s very healing. I sense that you need healing.”

“Mother fucker,” Hunter hisses. “Can we just dance and not do mumbo-jumbo shit?”

“Of course,” Aleria tells him with a sweet smile.

I hold back the laugh trying to work its way out. Hunter is about the least new age person I know, but Aleria is particularly insightful. I’d bet money that Hunter could use some healing, of some sort or another. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t involve sage and his idea of grounding is probably fucking on the ground, not whatever Aleria is talking about. But they seem okay, so I spin Poppy away and we sway along with the other couples on the floor.

Toward the end of the song, a waiter comes up and taps me on the shoulder. I have a momentary flashback of Ian trying to cut in on us at Caylee’s wedding, and am already prepared to bite someone’s head off, but Poppy says politely, “Yes?”

“I was asked to hand deliver this message to you, sir,” the waiter says, holding a white slip of paper.

I take the paper and open it for Poppy and I read it together.

Congratulations, my friends! May you be blessed with many years of happiness. My family and I are well, settled safely in a new home we like very much, with a job I can be proud of. Oh! I am now an Abuelo! Manuel says hello too. Be well. – JP

A smile curls my lips up. I’m glad JP is safe. He was a good friend through my time working to catch Mr. Big. Poppy touches the paper, her smile matching mine.

“Congratulation, JP,” she says quietly. “How do you think he found us?”

I shrug. “He was a good assistant with skills of his own. And he knows who you are. He’s probably in your reader group online.”

She laughs, “I kinda like the idea of him blushing at the crazy memes we post.”

Paula comes by and directs us to the dining table. Poppy and I sit side by side at the head of the table, with a long row of friends and family to our left and right. We wanted to be able to see everyone.

Daysha bumps Poppy with an elbow, “Girl, you two are the cutest out there. Total inspiration! But uh, can you hook a girl up? Your man got any brothers?”

I chuckle, “Not me. Just Caylee. But Hunter does.”

“What?” Hunter says, hearing his name but not the conversation because he’s pulling out a chair for Aleria to sit down.

“Daysha asked if I had any brothers. I told her you do,” I explain.

Hunter rolls his eyes. “Don’t remind me. I see them a couple of times a year, Christmas and Mother’s Day. And that’s enough.”

Aleria looks confused, “Mother’s Day?”

Hunter nods solemnly, “Hell hath no fury like the mother whose boys aren’t around the dining room table on her special day. I’ve had to leave missions for ‘research’ just to make it home for a two-hour dinner and then get back on the case so she didn’t kill me herself and bury my body in the yard.”

At that, everyone laughs, but I glare at Hunter, remembering the time he left me on a case alone to chase down a lead only to have it ‘not pan out’. In May, over Mother’s Day weekend.

“You asshole!” I tell him sharply.

He holds his hands out wide, not apologetic in the slightest. “Hey, she’s scarier than you are. Besides, I knew you’d be fine. You were trained by the best.”

It’s hard to argue with that, and slowly, everyone begins talking at once as they eat the delicious meal the waitstaff serves us.

I don’t taste a bit of it, just ready to get Poppy back to our room, but I try to make sure she eats plenty. “You’re going to need your strength later. Eat up,” I say, offering her a strawberry.

She takes a bite, but gestures to my plate, “You too.”

A few hours later, after celebrating with our family and friends and calling the doggie sitter to check on Nut and Juice, it’s finally just the two of us.

“Hello, wife,” I whisper to Poppy, slipping one of the straps of her dress off her shoulder.

“Hello, husband,” she whispers back, undoing my belt. “Do you remember what I said earlier?”

I don’t remember my own name at this point, not with her cupping me through my slacks. The only answer I can manage is a groan of pleasure as I thrust into her touch.

“Close, but it was… party first, sex later,” she says with a seductive smirk. “It’s later, Connor.”

“Thank fuck,” I growl.

I spin her, throwing her to the bed. She squeals in delight as she bounces, but I climb after her, pinning her to the bed with my body.

“I want to worship you. Kiss and touch every inch of your body so that all of you knows that you are mine.” My words are stilted, uttered between kisses along her neck, her collarbone, and down to her cleavage.

“Then you’d best get to it. I know you’ve been waiting all day, and now we’ve got all night,” she says, squirming in pleasure as I rub her nipple through her wedding gown.

“We’ve got forever.”

— Merci, dis-je à ma mère, Becky.

Debout derrière moi, elle termine de fermer ma robe, et croise mon regard dans le miroir.

— Tu es magnifique, chérie, dit-elle d’une voix étouffée par les larmes. À vrai dire, je n’étais pas sûre de pouvoir vivre ce jour. Sauf si tu avais épousé le livreur de nourriture chinoise.

Je pose une main sur mon cœur, le regard perdu au loin.

— Ah, pauvre Dan. Notre amour était impossible, car je ne l’appelais que pour nourrir mon corps de poulet aigre-doux, tandis qu’il venait à ma porte pour nourrir son âme de ma beauté.

Maman lève les yeux au ciel et me tape les fesses.

— Tu es une vraie gamine. C’est dans un langage fleuri comme ça que tu écris ?

— Certainement pas, maman, dis-je en riant. Et pour l’amour de la queue et des couilles, ne lis pas mon dernier livre.

Elle fait une grimace de dégoût.

— Ton langage, Poppy. Tu sais que je te soutiens à cent pour cent. Mais je peux le faire sans lire des scènes de sexe écrites par ma fille. Ça tue un peu l’ambiance, si tu vois ce que je veux dire. Mais j’ai lu un des livres d’Aleria. C’était assez… inspirant.

— La la la la, dis-je en chantant à tue-tête et mettant mes doigts dans mes oreilles.

Aleria, Daysha, Becca et Jasmine rient toutes ensemble. Au moins, Caylee m’adresse un regard de compassion, même si elle doit faire un effort pour ne pas sourire. Quand j’estime que la voie est libre, je retire mes doigts et les écoute à nouveau.

— Merci, maman Woodstock, dit Aleria à ma mère. J’en ai un autre qui sortira bientôt. Peut-être que je pourrais vous envoyer une copie avancée ?

— Vraiment ? J’adorerais ça, dit joyeusement maman avant d’ajouter : Steven aussi.

— Mamaaaaan !

Mais honnêtement, je suis heureuse que mes parents s’aiment toujours et – haut-le-cœur ! — qu’ils aient une vie sexuelle épanouie. Non… non… haut-le-cœur… je ne peux pas… je ne veux pas penser à ça le jour de mon mariage.

Maman qui a pitié de moi me tapote la main.

— Que reste-t-il à faire ? Il est presque temps d’aller à la plage. Où est l’organisatrice de mariage ?

Comme si maman l’avait invoquée, l’organisatrice ouvre la porte de ma suite nuptiale.

— Toc Toc. Comment ça se passe ici ?

Paula a été d’une grande aide, car planifier un mariage à des milliers de kilomètres de distance est difficile. Mais Caylee avait raison. S’évader pour une petite fête, c’est un milliard de fois mieux qu’un grand événement comme le sien. Le meilleur c’est que nous n’avons pas eu à inviter sa garce de Tante Audrey ni son obséquieux de cousin Ian.

Non. Seules les personnes que nous aimons le plus et qui nous aiment ont été invitées. D’autant plus que j’ai utilisé ma prochaine grosse avance pour payer les voyages de tous. Connor et mes parents n’étaient pas d’accord au début, mais quand je leur ai donné un petit aperçu de ce que me rapporte ma série Great Falls, ainsi que l’enthousiasme dont fait preuve mon éditeur pour ma prochaine série, ils ont souri fièrement et ont accepté.

— Je pense que nous sommes prêts, dis-je à Paula. Coiffure, maquillage, robe, chaussures, bijoux. Qu’est-ce qui me manque ?

— Fleurs ! crie Becca.

Elle est de corvée fleurs aujourd’hui et prend son travail très au sérieux. Elle me tend soigneusement le petit bouquet de fleurs de coquelicot rouge vif.

Paula hoche la tête en nous regardant, tout en faisant une check-list dans son esprit. Je me fie à son expérience et la laisse opérer sa magie tout en retirant des peluches ici et replaçant une mèche de cheveux là.

— D’accord, allons te marier, Poppy, dit Paula avant de parler dans son talkie-walkie : Départ du cortège nuptial. La côte est-elle dégagée ?

À travers le grésillement, une voix paniquée nous parvient.

— Négatif. Donne-moi une minute, Paula. Je cherche le marié.

— Quoi ? hurlé-je. Vous cherchez le marié ? Où est-il bordel ?

Je me démène pour attraper le talkie-walkie de Paula, mais elle le tient fermement.

— Excusez-moi un instant, dit-elle en courant vers la porte.

Je me tourne vers mes filles.

— Où est-il ? Vous pensez qu’il y a un problème ? Peut-être qu’il a changé d’avis ? Ou une vieille cible du FBI est-elle revenue se venger ?

Les idées m’assaillent les unes après les autres, toutes pires les unes que les autres.

— Peut-être qu’il a été kidnappé par un cartel et qu’ils vont exiger une rançon ? Ou alors il ne veut tout simplement pas de moi ?

Maman me prend les mains :

— Chérie, calme-toi. Je suis sûre que ça va aller.

Cependant, il n’y a pas d’arrêt pour ce train à destination de « Catastrophe Land ».

— Comment veux-tu que ça aille ?! Connor a disparu ! Rien ne va.

Aleria pousse ma mère de côté.

— Excusez-moi, Becky, dit-elle en prenant mes mains et se pressant contre moi, presque nez à nez. Poppy Woodstock, écoute-moi et écoute-moi bien. Connor t’aime. Cet homme est fou amoureux de toi. Et tu le sais, alors calme-toi. Respire avec moi. Par le nez… deux, trois, quatre. Par la bouche… deux, trois, quatre.

J’essaie de respirer avec elle, mais ça ne marche pas.

— Tu es sûre qu’il n’a pas été kidnappé ?

Daysha ricane.

— Ce serait le meilleur cadeau de mariage que Connor puisse avoir. Une chance de tuer quelqu’un… hum, je veux dire « l’arrêter » comme un bon agent du FBI, puis se précipiter aux côtés de sa fiancée bien-aimée. Oh, merde, il faut que j’écrive ça quelque part. C’est boooon. Où est mon téléphone ?

Depuis que Connor a été officiellement mis à la retraite et qu’il travaille en tant que consultant en sécurité, il m’a donné la permission de dire aux filles ce qu’il faisait. Elles sont dignes de confiance et comprennent qu’il faut parfois cacher son identité. Surtout après qu’un fan a découvert la véritable identité d’Aleria — qui écrit sous un pseudonyme — et s’est présenté un matin chez elle avec un café en pensant qu’ils étaient les meilleurs amis du monde, même s’ils n’avaient jamais discuté auparavant.

Jasmine lève la main en sautillant sur place.

— Je sais où il est ! Je sais où est Connor !

J’envoie paître les exercices de respiration d’Aleria et saisis Jasmine par les épaules.

— Où ça ?

Becca reprend soigneusement mes fleurs, toujours concentrée sur sa mission.

— Aleria a raison, dit Jasmine en souriant. Connor est fou amoureux de toi. Où serait-il ailleurs qu’à te regarder ?

— Hein ?

La panique ralentit mon cerveau.

— Il est quelque part par ici, dit Jasmine avec un signe de la main, avant de me pointer du doigt : à te surveiller.

Merde ! Elle a raison.

Je me précipite vers la porte et l’ouvre en passant la tête pour que ceux qui passent ne puissent pas voir ma robe, et crie bien fort :

— Connor ! Est-ce que tu es ici à m’espionner ? Tu es censé être au bout de cette putain d’allée pour que je puisse t’épouser !

Rien ne se passe pendant cinq longues secondes, mais je n’abandonne pas. Puis, lentement, la porte de l’autre côté du couloir s’ouvre et Connor apparaît, l’air penaud.

— Désolé, je n’ai pas pu m’en empêcher, rouspète-t-il. Je ne t’ai pas vue depuis des jours.

Je souris, plus du tout en colère.

— Tu m’as manqué aussi. Mais ça ne fait que vingt-quatre heures.

— Plus de deux jours ! marchande-t-il en traversant le couloir.

Il est sur le point de m’embrasser quand Paula déboule au même moment.

— Il est là !

Elle soupire de soulagement, mais son visage redevient professionnel un instant plus tard quand elle parle dans son talkie-walkie :

— Je l’ai. Retrouve-moi près de la suite nuptiale pour l’emmener là où il est censé être.

— Ne parlez pas de moi comme si j’étais un gamin capricieux, lui dit Connor, le regard toujours plongé dans le mien. Je dois y aller. À tout de suite.

— Je t’aime.

Il se penche et m’embrasse avec force.

— Je t’aime aussi.

Et puis il part, emporté par Paula qui le pousse vers un type en pantalon noir et polo portant le logo de l’hôtel.

— Emmène-le.

Et puis Paula se tourne vers moi en haussant un sourcil. Je suppose que je vais également avoir des ennuis. Si elle savait ce que Connor et moi avons vécu lors de notre première rencontre, elle relativiserait ce qui se passe en ce moment.

— Je suis prête.

Becca me remet mon bouquet.

— Tu vois ? Tout va bien.

* * *

Connor

Je descends l’allée pour me placer près de l’officiant de l’hôtel. L’océan et le sable offrent une belle toile de fond, et le soleil qui glisse à l’horizon possède les mêmes couleurs vives que le bouquet qui a été livré à Poppy tout à l’heure, lorsque je regardais à travers le judas de la chambre en face de sa suite nuptiale. Je n’ai jamais douté qu’elle me rejoindrait au bout de l’allée pour m’épouser, mais je ne pouvais plus supporter d’être loin d’elle. J’avais juste besoin de l’apercevoir un instant.

En l’attendant ici, je suis frappé de voir à quel point les choses peuvent changer et à quelle vitesse. Il y a peu de temps à peine, je travaillais joyeusement sous couverture, sans jamais savoir où je serais le jour, la semaine, le mois ou l’année suivante. Je n’avais pas de relations autres que Hunter et j’ai changé de personnage comme la plupart des gens changent de vêtements.

Maintenant, je redécouvre qui je suis. En tant que Connor. En tant qu’homme, futur mari, ami et même fils.

Ma relation avec mes parents n’est pas parfaite, mais nous avons parcouru un long chemin, et avons enfin pu parler de nos traumatismes liés à la perte de mon grand-père et des problèmes que je leur ai causés à l’adolescence. Mon père est même allé en thérapie avec ma mère, et après quelques séances, il a commencé à y aller seul. Alors, même s’il y a encore des choses à régler, je suis content qu’ils soient là et qu’ils me regardent avec fierté épouser la femme que j’aime.

Et soudain, rien de tout ça n’a d’importance…

Poppy se tient au bout de l’allée dans une robe blanche aérienne avec de minuscules bretelles spaghetti. La robe est digne d’un ange, mais sur Poppy, avec le feu des torches tiki vacillant à proximité et ses boucles rousses, on dirait une déesse. Ma déesse.

Elle marche dans l’allée en tenant le bras de son père. Arrivé devant moi, il m’offre une poignée de main ferme.

— Prends soin de ma fille, Connor.

Je hoche la tête et réponds :

— Nous prendrons soin l’un de l’autre.

Poppy rayonne et je sais que c’était la bonne chose à dire.

L’officiant commence la cérémonie, mais honnêtement, je n’ai aucune idée de ce que je dis ou ce que dit Poppy. Tout ce que je sais, c’est qu’elle me regarde avec des yeux emplis d’amour. Elle sait tout, connaît le meilleur et le pire en moi, tous mes mensonges et chacune des cicatrices de mon âme, et pourtant… elle m’aime. Pas malgré ces choses, mais à cause d’elles, parce que c’est ce qui m’a amené à elle. Elle m’accepte comme je suis et que j’étais. Elle m’a toujours accepté, même quand elle pensait que j’étais un voleur.

— Je t’aime tellement, lui dis-je, interrompant ce que dit le célébrant sur l’amour et l’importance du mariage.

— Je t’aime aussi, répond-elle avec un sourire narquois avant de murmurer : On ne pourrait pas sauter tout ce passage sur l’amour et passer aux baisers ? Je suis prête à enfermer ce type avant qu’il réalise à quel point je suis folle.

Le célébrant s’éclaircit la gorge pendant que nos quelques participants rient.

— Euh, oui… Eh bien, vous pouvez sceller vos vœux avec un baiser.

— Il était temps, grogné-je.

Et puis j’embrasse Poppy et elle m’embrasse. Nous l’avons fait. Quelque chose à l’intérieur de mon âme se détend enfin, une chaleur qui me manquait sans que je le sache et qui remplit mon cœur froid et dur.

Tout le monde nous acclame, mais je continue de l’embrasser, incapable de m’arrêter. Enfin, Caylee crie :

— Prenez une chambre !

Un rire parcourt l’assemblée et même moi je ris avant de briser notre baiser.

— On en a une, alors à plus tard, dis-je en essayant d’entraîner Poppy vers l’hôtel tout en saluant les gens.

Mais elle se dégage en riant :

— Pas question ! La fête d’abord, la baise plus tard !

Ma mère a l’air consternée, mais tous ceux qui connaissent Poppy savent qu’elle agit et parle d’abord, et réfléchit ensuite. Je suis même content que sa bouche et ses actions ne nous aient pas encore causé d’ennuis sur l’île pendant que nous sommes ici.

Je feins d’être triste, mais je suis tout aussi excité de fêter ça avec nos amis. Tant que la partie « baise plus tard » reste vraie. Ou peut-être pourrions-nous nous faufiler discrètement sur la plage pendant la réception ? Cela me paraît une bonne idée.

On se dirige vers le petit patio couvert de paille où se tient la réception sur le thème chandelles et romantisme. Une musique douce des îles se joue et quelques serveurs accueillent les invités avec des cocktails. C’est exactement ce dont Poppy rêvait.

Nous avançons sur la piste de danse, nous balançant d’avant en arrière pour notre première danse en tant que mari et femme, mais nous invitons rapidement tout le monde à nous rejoindre. Caylee et Evan qui adorent danser se lèvent en un éclair, et les parents se joignent aussi à nous. À ma grande surprise, je vois Aleria inviter Hunter à danser et il accepte à contrecœur.

Je rapproche Poppy d’eux pour les écouter avec désinvolture.

— Ton aura est l’une des plus intéressantes que j’aie jamais vue. C’est de l’indigo, presque noir avec un soupçon de violet, mais il y a des poches du plus joli marine. Comme un ciel nocturne sans étoiles.

Les sourcils de Hunter se haussent.

— Mon aura ?

Aleria lève une main pour effleurer Hunter à quelques centimètres de distance, comme si elle pouvait sentir son aura physiquement et le caresser comme un chiot.

— Oui. C’est intéressant. As-tu déjà été purifié ? Je pense que tu en tirerais le plus grand bénéfice. Ou essayé la mise à la terre ? C’est un puissant moyen de guérison. Je sens que tu as besoin de guérison.

— Merde, siffle Hunter. Est-ce qu’on peut juste danser et arrêter tout ce charabia ?

— Bien sûr, lui dit Aleria avec un doux sourire.

Je retiens mon rire en essayant de reculer. Hunter est la personne la moins New Age que je connaisse, mais Aleria est particulièrement perspicace. Je parie que Hunter pourrait tenter la guérison, mais je suis pratiquement sûr que ça n’impliquera pas de la purification, et que son idée de la mise en terre serait plutôt de la baiser par terre, et pas comme Aleria l’entend. Mais ils ont l’air de bien s’entendre, alors je fais virevolter Poppy et nous nous balançons avec les autres couples sur la piste.

Vers la fin de la chanson, un serveur arrive et me tape sur l’épaule. J’ai un flash-back momentané d’Ian essayant de nous interrompre au mariage de Caylee, et je suis déjà prêt à mordre, quand Poppy dit poliment :

— Oui ?

— On m’a demandé de vous remettre ce message en main propre, monsieur, dit le serveur, tenant un morceau de papier blanc.

Je prends le papier et l’ouvre pour Poppy et nous le lisons ensemble.

Félicitations, mes amis ! Puissiez-vous être béni par de nombreuses années de bonheur. Ma famille et moi sommes bien installés en toute sécurité dans une nouvelle maison que nous aimons beaucoup, avec un travail dont je peux être fier. Oh ! Je suis maintenant un abuelo ! Manuel vous passe également le bonjour. Portez-vous bien. – J.P

Un sourire retrousse mes lèvres. Je suis content que J.P aille bien. Ça a été un bon ami pendant la période où j’essayais de coincer M. Big. Poppy touche le papier et son sourire correspond au mien.

— Félicitation, J.P, dit-elle. Comment penses-tu qu’il nous ait trouvés ?

Je hausse les épaules.

— C’était un bon assistant avec des compétences qui lui étaient propres. Et il sait qui tu es. Il fait probablement partie de ton groupe de lecteurs en ligne.

Elle rit :

— J’aime bien l’idée qu’il rougisse devant les mèmes fous que nous publions.

Paula s’approche et nous dirige vers la table à manger. Poppy et moi sommes assis côte à côte en bout de table, avec une longue rangée d’amis et de membres de la famille à notre gauche et à notre droite. Nous voulions pouvoir voir tout le monde.

Daysha donne un coup de coude à Poppy,

— Vous êtes tellement mignons tous les deux. Inspiration totale ! Mais ton homme n’aurait pas des frères ?

— Pas moi, dis-je en riant. J’ai juste Caylee. Mais Hunter, oui.

— Quoi ? dit Hunter en entendant son nom, mais pas la conversation, car il tire une chaise pour Aleria.

— Daysha me demande si j’ai des frères. Je lui ai dit que toi, oui.

Hunter lève les yeux au ciel.

— Ne me le rappelle pas. Je les vois deux fois par an, à Noël et à la fête des Mères. Et ça suffit.

— Fête des Mères ? demande Aleria confuse.

Hunter hoche la tête solennellement :

— La fureur de l’enfer n’est rien comparée à celle de ma mère quand ses garçons ne sont pas réunis autour de la table le jour de sa fête. J’ai dû quitter des missions périlleuses pour ne pas manquer un dîner deux heures, par peur qu’elle me tue et m’enterre dans le jardin.

Tout le monde rit, mais je regarde Hunter, me rappelant la fois où il m’a laissé seul sur une mission. C’était en mai, le week-end de la fête des Mères.

— Connard ! lui dis-je sèchement.

Il tend les paumes, sans s’excuser le moins du monde.

— Hé, elle est plus effrayante que toi. En plus, je savais que tu t’en sortirais. Tu as été formé par les meilleurs.

Il est difficile de le contredire, et lentement, tout le monde commence à discuter tout en mangeant le délicieux repas que les serveurs nous apportent. Mais je n’arrive pas à manger. Je ne pense qu’à ramener Poppy dans notre chambre. Pourtant j’insiste pour qu’elle mange.

— Tu auras besoin de force plus tard. Mange, dis-je en lui offrant une fraise.

Elle mord dedans, mais fait signe à mon assiette :

— Toi aussi.

Quelques heures plus tard, après avoir fait la fête avec famille et amis, et appelé la gardienne pour vérifier comment vont Nut et Juice, nous ne sommes enfin plus que tous les deux.

— Bonjour, ma femme, lui dis-je en abaissant une des bretelles de sa robe.

— Bonjour, mon mari, murmure-t-elle en défaisant ma ceinture. Tu te souviens de ce que j’ai dit plus tôt ?

Je ne peux même pas me souvenir de mon propre nom en ce moment, surtout quand elle me prend à travers mon pantalon. La seule réponse que j’arrive à donner, c’est un gémissement de plaisir alors que je m’enfonce dans sa main.

— Presque, mais c’était… la fête d’abord, la baise plus tard, dit-elle avec un sourire séducteur. On est plus tard, Connor.

— Merci bordel, dis-je dans un grognement.

Je la retourne et la jette sur le lit. Elle lâche un cri de plaisir en rebondissant sur le matelas, mais je grimpe derrière elle et la cloue au lit de mon corps.

— Je veux t’adorer. T’embrasser et toucher chaque centimètre de ton corps pour que tu saches que tu es à moi.

Mes paroles sont entrecoupées par mes baisers le long de son cou, de sa clavicule et jusqu’à son décolleté.

— Alors tu ferais mieux de t’y mettre. Tu as attendu toute la journée, et maintenant nous avons toute la nuit, dit-elle en se trémoussant de plaisir alors que je caresse son mamelon à travers sa robe de mariée.

— Nous avons l’éternité.

Tiffany – Five Years Later

“Are you sure about this?” Elle asks. She’s nibbled her lower lip to within an inch of its life, and has already asked me that exact question five times. In. The. Last. Hour.

“It’s not like I dared him to do it.” My huff and eye roll are getting weaker with repetition. Luckily, they were practiced and fierce to begin with so they still have some oomph. “And as far as I know, you didn’t dare him.”

I know the answer, but I give her the stink eye just in case there’s something I don’t know.

“I’m just nervous. This is a big deal,” she argues.

Harper steps in, the calming force to our whirlwind as usual. “Elle, your dad has been talking about this for a while. It’s as planned out as you’d expect with him. It’ll be fine.”

From Harper’s hip, her older daughter, Julie, echoes, “Fine, fine, fine, fiiine.” Her sing-song tone is about as off-pitch as Harper tends to be too, but she kicks her feet happily. Harper’s girls are honestly always happy and smiling. I’ve never seen Julie or Ophelia, Fee for short, pitch a fit or have a tantrum. It’s like they absorb Harper’s positive vibes, amplify them, and share them back out to the world as sunshiny smiles. Of course, they’re only three and two, barely eleven months apart, so maybe their day is coming? They did get half of their genetics from Ace, and while he’s happy as can be with his life, he’s not nearly as perky as Harper.

“Yeah, we planned it. So you know it’s a golden plan of perfection.” I toss my hair over my shoulder, emphasizing the ‘we’ part because Harper’s right – Daniel and I have cussed, discussed, flipped, and flopped our plan over and over again, twisting and turning it, to examine every possible and potential angle.

And this is the right move.

For him. For me. For our boys, Nate, and the twins, Mason and Jackson. For our family.

“But the suburbs?” Elle whispers, as if someone might overhear her distaste. “They’re so… vanilla. You’re going to go stir-crazy there. I’m calling it.” Elle holds up a finger, noting the current place, date, and time of her prediction.

I look at Harper with one brow raised. “Does she know me at all? Vanilla? Me?”

Harper laughs, “Apparently not.”

“La la la la la la,” Elle shouts as she slaps her hands over her ears. “That is not what I’m talking about! And there are kids here, watch yourself.”

She looks around for said kids, but they’re all in the playroom except for Julie, and she doesn’t understand the subtext of our conversation at all. Even Neve, Elle’s daughter, wouldn’t catch it and she’s the oldest of the group at eight years old.

I slap peanut butter on another slice of bread, working my way through making enough peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for an army. Or our kids. Same difference.

“If you’re so worried about the kids, wrangle them up to eat lunch. I’m not leaving Harper to feed them all, and I need to change before we leave,” I say to Elle.

“Oh shit, me too!” Elle exclaims.

And like the echoing bird she is, Julie copies Elle too. “Shit shit shit.”

Elle’s mouth drops open in horror and she mutters an apology as she bolts down the hall to get the kids. But Harper is unfazed. “Julie, that’s not a word for you to use.”

“Sorry, Momma,” Julie answers.

See? Her girls are crazy easy. Which reminds me…

“Harper, are you sure you don’t mind watching the kids? I can call the nanny if you’re having second thoughts.”

I wouldn’t blame her if she did. She took off work today for a doctor appointment this morning, where they assured her again that Baby Young #3 is healthy and growing fine, and then to watch Neve, Nate, Mason, Jackson, and her own two, Julie and Fee.

“Tiff, I manage a classroom full of five-year-olds every single day. I think I can manage six kids for an afternoon. I won’t even have to teach them. Though I did promise them an art project, and I’ll make it extra messy, just to punish you for leaving them all with me.” She winks, but there’s the tiniest hint of an edge to her smile, one I’m proud of her for developing. Elle and I helped with that, and I’d like to think Harper’s the better for the well-roundedness.

I set the sandwiches at each seat of the breakfast nook table just in time as Elle brings everyone back in.

Neve, who takes after her mother and definitely not her Aunt Tiffy, directs everyone, “Nate, you sit there. Mason and Jackson, there and there. Fee, you want your high chair or a big girl chair?” Fee doesn’t answer aloud, but wobbles over to climb into a big girl chair, which is answer enough. Julie kicks her feet again, wanting down and then rushes to sit next to Mason. She’s only a few months older than the twin boys, all of them three years old, but she’s extra fond of Mason.

Once everyone’s seated, Harper waves us off silently, mouthing, “I’ve got this. Go.”

Elle and I don’t need to be told twice. We quickly and quietly rush into the main bedroom to change clothes. I trade out my jeans and t-shirt for a navy pencil skirt and taupe blouse, pairing them with nude pumps. I want to coordinate perfectly with the suit Daniel wore this morning.

When I come out of the closet, Elle is sitting on my bathroom counter, her heels swinging back and forth. “I didn’t mean to give you a hard time. It’s just hard to imagine Dad without work, you know? It’s always been his thing. I figured I’d have to pry his cold, dead hands from his desk when he was old and gray. Early retirement was never something I considered.”

I shrug, understanding her point. It has taken a long time for Daniel to consider this course of action, but he’s excited about it now.

“He’s not fully retiring to sit around and play golf, you know? He’s doing small-scale, private venture capital investment on his own, putting all he’s learned at Fox to good use, in a way that’ll let him be home with the boys more. That’s a big deal to him.”

“It always was,” she says wistfully.

I can tell she’s remembering all the hard work Daniel put into being her dad, never missing a PTA meeting, piano recital, or award ceremony. He wants to do that for our boys too, and he’s in a different situation now, where he can be home with them as much as he wants.

“And Billy’s got a great business plan. I’m not just saying that because he’s family either. Hell, if anything, that makes me more hesitant. But he’s good, Elle. I promise.”

She sighs, “Even Rocksteady and Bebop are all grown up. How’d that happen, Tiff?”

She’s right. Ricky is married to Miranda now, an amazing stepdad, and serving as Daniel’s right-hand man for anything and everything Daniel needs. Billy, on the other hand, expanded his role a few years ago, doing more corporate recon work for Daniel and now, he’s ready to do that on a larger scale for other private employers. His corporate investigation consulting firm will be Daniel’s first capital investment as a retired man.

“We’re all grown up,” I tell her gently. “But not so adult that I can’t dare you to do something crazy. I dare you to…”

She interrupts me, “Nope. Today is about you and Dad. I dare you to go out with a bang.”

“What’s that mean?” I ask hesitantly.

“You decide. Once upon a time, you gave me an open-ended dare with scaled rewards. You do something wild, and based on what it is, I’ll determine your reward.”

“What’s the determining factor? Who’s judging?”

“Me,” she scoffs. “Of course. So make it good.” She pauses, and then adds, “But something you can tell me about. I don’t want to hear any sexcapades details.” She feigns gagging, her tongue sticking out and her eyes closed tightly. I almost tease her that she looks like she’s waiting for a load, but decide to go another route to really get her good…

“Like the way Daddy bends me over the counter right where you’re sitting and makes me watch him fuck me in the mirror?” I ask, fluttering my lashes innocently.

“Aahh!” Elle screams, hopping off the counter. “You suck, bitch!” She does have the forethought to not yell it because of the kids, but it’s just as emphatic as if she had.

“So Daddy tells me.”

“I’m out.” She flips me off with one bright red nail as she struts down the hall.

I meet my own eyes in the mirror, where Daniel has made me watch us before. There’s a deep happiness I never thought I’d have swirling in their depths. I flash a smile and follow after Elle down the hallway, ready to go see my man give an amazing retirement speech.

* * *

“-and so, it’s with great thankfulness to all of you that I can stand here today, not saying goodbye, but rather ‘carry on’. Your hard work, dedication, and initiative have all contributed to the success of Fox Industries, and I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished together. But my departure is just another Friday in the long run. You’re all going to come in Monday morning and keep riding the wave of success we started. I, for one, can’t wait to see what you can achieve. Thank you.”

The applause fills the square in front of the Fox building, the only plaza on the property big enough to fit everyone. The doors are open, and with the speech over, folks drift in and out. Some of the diehards go right back to work, while others try to decide if they’re going to eat their celebratory burgers indoors or out. Burgers might not seem like a typical business luncheon choice, but Daniel had felt it only right to have Frankie cater the event. And yes, there are regular burgers, gut busters, and Daniel’s special lettuce wrap options.

Elle and I make our way through the crowd of handshakers to Daniel, who looks as handsome as ever in his blue suit. He’s mid-conversation with Mr. Fox, Daniel’s predecessor who came today for the retirement ceremony, but nothing can stop him from enveloping me in a hug as soon as he sees me. My arms wrap around his neck and my feet lift from the ground as he squeezes me tightly, growling in my ear, “We did it, baby girl.”

When my feet touch the ground once more, I place a gentle palm on his cheek, knowing it’ll be the last time it’s smoothly shaved for a while because he won’t have to be clean-faced for work each morning. “We’re doing it. This is step one of our new forever.”

Even though we’re surrounded by colleagues, Daniel kisses me fiercely. My toes curl in my heels and my pulse picks up, my heart banging against my ribs. I still feel like I’m living in a dream each and every time he takes my mouth this way, like I’m his breath. But it’s no dream. It’s real life… my life, our life.

“Getcha sum, girl,” a voice says from right behind me.

Laughing, I pull back from Daniel to see Stephanie looking at the two of us in sly appreciation. “Is that one of the new corporate initiatives?”

I tap my chin, “Hmm, this one’s mine, but I’ll take it under advisement if you put it on a suggestion card.”

Stephanie points at me, “You got it, boss.”

My initial plan to offer sessions where our staff can cross-train and provide useful skills to each other has expanded exponentially. But matchmaking inside the office is definitely not on the upcoming roster, no matter Stephanie’s recommendation. It might’ve worked for Elle and me – and Ricky and Miranda too – but that’s where I’m drawing the line. Everyone else can fend for themselves. I’m too busy living my own happily ever after.

Daniel leads me through the crowd with his hand on my lower back, chatting here and accepting congratulations there. After a while, I lean into him and when his eyes find mine, I crook my finger at him. He comes closer and I whisper in his ear, “I think I forgot something in your office upstairs.”

He arches a brow, already reading the hunger in my eyes. But I can still surprise him and I’m as bold as ever. Maybe more so.

“What did you forget?”

I let the tiniest smile tilt my lips. “My panties,” I whisper.

He shows zero outward sign of reaction – his eyes don’t narrow, he doesn’t choke on the champagne he’s sipping, and his breath is just as even as before. But I feel the slight squeeze of his fingertips on my hip where he’s checking for a sign of a layer beneath my skirt.

He won’t find one.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Tiff. But fuck if I won’t go happy. Come on.” Taking my hand, we head indoors, giving the occasional nod to a well-wisher.

As soon as the elevator’s closed, Daniel pulls me in and kisses me, holding me close. As I run my fingernails over his shirt covered chest, he groans, “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

“You just keep that in mind,” I tease, reaching down and cupping the bulge in his pants. “I love you, Daniel Stryker.”

“I love you, Tiffany Stryker,” he says, pulling me in close. “You’ve made my life complete.”

There’s a tenderness to his words that belie the heat rushing through us, building higher and hotter with each passing touch.

The elevator brings us up, and we pull apart enough to get to his office, where we close and lock the door. “How did you want to say goodbye to this office? I know you well enough to know you’ve got some fantasy in mind.”

He does know me.

I strut my way across the room to his desk, but I don’t sit on it. No, I pull open a drawer and pull out one of the spare ties Daniel keeps here. “With everyone downstairs, we’ll have to be quiet.”

Daniel takes the tie and runs it between his fingers, a dark look swirling through his blue eyes as he catches my meaning. “You are rather loud, aren’t you?” he says as he strokes the smooth, shiny textured fabric, “I think I’m going to have to stick this in your mouth, because I’m going to make you come so hard, you’ll want to scream. Do you want that?”

I tremble, his dirty talk sending chills down my spine and fresh heat to my already wet pussy. “I don’t know if you can make me lose control that way,” I challenge. “In fact, I dare you to make me. I dare you to let go and fuck me as hard as you want. We’ll see who loses control first.”

Daniel purses his lips, thinking things through, then grins. “This is a dare I’m going to win for sure. Put your hands on the glass, Tiffany. Now.”

I walk to the window where he points, looking out over the valley. If I look all the way to the left, I can barely see the people out front, still celebrating a man that’s not even at the party. No, he’s right behind me, his hands caressing the curves of my ass. With my hands pressing on the glass, I arch my back, giving him better access.

I feel his chest against my back a split second before he shoves the balled-up tie in my mouth. My lipstick will definitely stain it, but I can’t care right now. Not when he’s pushing my skirt up and groaning low in his chest when he sees my bare, wet pussy.

“Fast and hard, baby girl. You sure?”

I nod, whimpering.

I hear his belt and zipper, and then without warning, he slams into me hard enough to lift me to my toes. A spasm rocks me instantly and despite the tie, my cry is loud.

As long as the elevator doesn’t ding, and Mac doesn’t bust us again, this will be the last time we fuck in this office. It’s not something we do often, only a handful of times over the years, but this one is going to be one for the memory books.

I’m so going to lose this dare.

But the truth is, I don’t care.

Because I got everything I ever dreamed of – Daniel, my boys, and a life better than I ever imagined.

And that’s the truth.

The End

PS – I’ll still win the dare with Elle though. And getting fucked against the window, gagged with a tie, during Daniel’s retirement party will definitely earn me more than a mani-pedi date with my bestie. She’s gonna have to pay up for this one.

Abi

Ten Years Later…

“Great work, Samantha. The hydrangeas are TDF-gorg!” I compliment as I spin the flowers, making slight adjustments that aren’t needed but I can’t help but stick my hands in them. Samantha long ago started doing jobs on her own, but this one is too important to not have my special touch.

“I know,” she preens, turning this way and that, offering pose after pose.

Janey, sneaking up behind Samantha, holds a finger to her lips telling me to be quiet. It takes a hard bite of my lip, but I do it just long enough for Janey to smack Samantha on the butt. The echo is sharp. So is Samantha’s screech as she whirls.

“Bullseye!” Janey exclaims as she blows on her hand.

“I’m gonna get you back for that!” Samantha promises. At the same time, she grabs for Janey, aiming to land a smack of her own to Janey’s generous backside. And then they’re swirling around me and I’m somehow involved too.

I land a smack of my own to Samantha, but mostly, we just dissolve into giggles. Right up until the vase of hydrangeas starts to tilt.

That stops us cold in our tracks with matching looks of horror as we all reach to settle the arrangement on the front foyer table.

“Maybe we save this battle for the shop this week? We’ve got a lot to finish before showtime.” I swear it’s like herding kittens high on catnip when the three of us work together on something this important, but a good dose of craziness helps us deal with the nerves.

Janey and Samantha throw me matching half-ass salutes, but given the way they’re eyeing each other, I’m reasonably certain that as soon as I leave the room, they’ll continue the melee. I point V’d fingers at my eyes and then flip them around to communicate clearly that I’m watching them. “You break it, you buy it,” I warn, knowing that everything from the rug beneath our feet to the table the vase is sitting on, is way too expensive for them even though I pay them well.

“Oh! Hey Courtney!” Janey’s looking over my shoulder, presumably to my sister. She might be my younger sibling, but she’s the boss of every room she enters. Including this one, even though it’s at our parent’s house.

“Everything looks great!” she says, going right to the flowers we almost destroyed. After a quick appreciation, her eyes turn to me and widen in shock. “Except for you, Abs. T minus one hour till people start arriving and I’m assuming that if you look like that, Maisie looks even worse?”

I will not let my daughter be insulted like that, so with one hand on my hip and one finger pointing in her face, I snarl, “Take that back or you’re going to lose your Coolest Aunt crown!”

She’s not cowed in the slightest. Instead, she smirks because she knows she’s got her competition beat, hands down. “Aunt Vi might have friends for Maisie to play with, but she doesn’t have an indoor trampoline, fully stocked arts and crafts cabinet, and membership at the science museum.”

“Are you buying my daughter’s affection?” I accuse as I fight a smile.

She raises a sharp brow in response.

Courtney really is a great aunt for my daughter, Maisie, and Vi’s kids, Carly and the twins, Aida and Aldo, though she does have a tendency to spoil them, sugar them up, and then send them home.

See? She’s the best.

And also, she’s right unfortunately. Looking at the dirt under my manicure and knowing that I haven’t fixed my hair yet, I’d be willing to bet that my daughter is probably in need of an actual bath before party time.

“I’ll go find her.”

I’m halfway to the back door when Courtney calls out, “Mom already sent Maisie upstairs. She’s probably pruney from her bubble bath by now.”

And like that, I’m jealous of my daughter . . . and considering taking a bubble bath of my own. I wonder where my sexy husband is? Maybe he could join me for a quickie if I throw my hair into an updo?

“No time for any of that,” Courtney says, able to read my mind. “Thirty minutes and I want everyone in the parlor for a family meeting before guests arrive. Don’t be late or we’ll move the meeting to the bathroom and then Mom and Dad will see that tattoo on your ass.”

“You’re the worst. You swore you’d never use that against me!” I haven’t gone tattoo crazy like Lorenzo, who’s nearly covered beneath his clothes now with black linework that’s sexy as hell, but let’s just say that I have stopped by to see Reno a few more times since the night we got our wedding band tattoos.

“Not using it against you. Just telling you how it is. Tonight is too important to leave anything to chance.” With that, she goes back to looking at the tablet in her hands, checking her list again. She’s definitely already checked it countless times before, so that she’s doing it again, is a sign of her nerves.

“Court,” I say kindly, getting close to her but not touching her with my plant-y hands. She drags her eyes up to meet mine. “You’re ready for this, one hundred percent.”

“You think?” she asks softly.

“Everyone knows you are, especially Dad, or he wouldn’t be retiring and leaving the reins to you.” I know that’s her biggest worry – disappointing the man she’s modeled her career after.

“I know.” She doesn’t sound sure and I glare at her. Stronger, she says, “I. Know. This is everything I’ve been working for. And I’m ready. I guess I just can’t believe it’s actually happening.” She huffs out a tiny laugh, “I think there’s a part of me that thought Dad would never retire.”

“Really? I figured Mom would have him doing month-long retiree cruises years ago.” Dad doesn’t know that Mom really does have one of those booked for three weeks from now. Part retirement gift, part ‘get him out of Courtney’s hair’ gift.

Courtney slaps a hand over my mouth, looking over her shoulder like Dad might hear me. I lift a wry brow at the same time I lick her palm.

“Ugh! Gross! What are you . . . ten?” she cries. Janey hands her a towel, knowing that Court isn’t the type to just wipe the spit on her nice dress. As she wipes her hand off, she jerks her chin toward the stairs, “You have twenty-five minutes now. Better make good use of them.”

I’m halfway up the stairs to do what she said, which is not necessarily what she meant, when she yells after me, “Send Lorenzo down now. No time for hanky-panky and I could use his help in the kitchen.”

Ugh. She’s such a spoilsport.

In my bedroom, I see my dress hanging on the closet door and my shoes sitting below. On the other door is Maisie’s dress. I grab her emerald green one and head toward the master bedroom, knowing that if she’s in a bubble bath, it’s in Mom’s deep garden tub. I knock on the door to be safe because I don’t want to accidentally walk in on Mom and Dad in a compromising position if I’m wrong about which tub Maisie is in.

“Come in,” Mom calls, but I still open the door slowly, with one hand over my eyes. “We’re decent, dear,” Mom laughs.

I move my hand to see Mom straightening Dad’s already-straight tie, but she comes my way once she sees the dress. “Here, give me that and I’ll make sure Maisie gets ready while you get cleaned up. She was out in the garden again, ‘rescued’ some worms.”

“Thanks, Mom.” As I hand the dress over, she sees my dirtied cuticles and clucks her tongue. Under her breath, I’m sure I hear her say ‘like mother, like daughter’. I don’t think she’s talking about me and her, but me and my ‘free spirit-verging on feral’ daughter.

Back in my room, I hop in the shower, resign myself to my usual messy updo even though I’d had grand illusions of actually fixing my hair into something fancier this time, and do a quick makeup application focusing on heavy mascara and red lips because that’s all I have time for.

Okay, I’m ready.

The flowers are ready.

Mom’s getting Maisie ready.

Oh shit . . . hopefully, Courtney tracked down Lorenzo because I totally forgot that she asked me to do that. Oops.

Lorenzo

I can’t help but hang out in the kitchen with the caterers. You never know what trick you might learn, what recipe you might taste, what ingredient or presentation you might discover. Of course, Morgan had asked if I wanted to caterer tonight’s event, but I wanted to be here as family, not working in the kitchen all evening. Ironic that’s where I end up anyway. But at least I can duck out when Courtney calls a family meeting.

In the living room, I find most everyone already assembled. Ross and Violet are sitting on the couch with their three kids – Carly, Aida, and Alto – between them. Kaede is standing slightly behind Courtney, who’s quietly discussing something with Morgan. Kimberly is sitting on the couch listening to a very animated story from my daughter, Maisie. The story is apparently about . . . worms? I’m not surprised.

The only suspicious absence? My beautiful wife.

I point to the stairs, silently asking if I should go track her down. There’s no telling where my lovely bride has gone off too, or what she’s gotten tied up in.

Courtney shakes her head. “I sent Karl to grab her. You’ll have to fill her in because we have a timeline to stick to.”

I nod, not willing to get in Courtney’s way when she’s in Boss Mode.

“Good. Tonight is important, we all know that. I need everyone to be on their best behavior,” Courtney starts and Morgan lays a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Honey, I think the only one that needs to hear that is still upstairs.”

I’d defend my wife, but Morgan’s right and we all know it, so I just smile with a shrug. If Abigail’s impulsivity gets her in trouble, I’ll take special delight in handling it . . . and her. The very idea is actually rather appealing and I wonder if I could help her find a little moment of crazy tonight that won’t set Courtney off.

Courtney agrees with Morgan, and continues down her list of things she wants to cover before the party starts. “We’ll do meet and greets as people arrive, then Ross will do his speech honoring Dad-“ She points a finger at Ross, “You have that, right?”

Ross usually gives Courtney a bit of shit about being a control freak, but we all know how on edge she is right now, so he kindly answers, “Yep. I’m good.”

Expecting that, she continues, “Then Dad, you’ll talk and make the announcement that I’m taking over Andrews Consolidated. Oh my God, I’m taking over Andrews Consolidated.”

Her eyes go glassy and vacant as though she’s only just now realizing why we’re having this whole party tonight. Kaede steps up to her side and places a soothing hand on her lower back and you can see the stress melt off of her. She sends him a grateful look and he beams, his pride in his wife obvious.

One thing I can say for the Andrews children . . . though all the marriages might have begun under unusual circumstances, each of the relationships has only solidified over the years. Morgan’s wish for his kids to find happiness in love and family has definitely come true.

As if she can hear me thinking lovely thoughts about her, Abigail’s heels click quickly across the foyer and she appears in the doorway, looking beautiful and late as always. “Did I make it? I swore I was going to make it on time.”

Courtney rolls her eyes, “I gave you a ten-minute buffer because I knew you’d be late, so yep, you made it . . . right on time for when I actually needed you.”

Abigail’s eyes go fiery, promising revenge, which will likely be in the form of something happening tonight that Courtney will deem completely inappropriate. I can’t wait.

A few more steps into the room and Abigail is at my side. Courtney keeps talking, something about speeches and reminders about what to say and not say to certain people – there’s a list in our emails apparently that Abigail and I definitely didn’t read. But Courtney’s voice has faded into the background as I look at my wife.

Her hair is brushed into a loose chignon, one I know can be unleashed with the pull of a few bobby pins because I’ve done it countless times. Her lips are my favorite shade of red, the one that looks obscenely sexy smeared on my olive skin against the black lines of my tattoos. And her dress hugs her curves, highlighting the slight softness she carries after giving birth to our daughter.

“You look beautiful, mia rosa,” I whisper as I snake my arm around her waist, pulling her to stand in front of me.

“Looking good yourself, husband,” she replies, glancing up at me with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Save me a dance?”

She taps her lip with a freshly pink nail that’s surprisingly clean, acting like she’s giving my request serious consideration. “It depends on the song. I’m feeling some Ginuwine Pony twerking tonight. You down?”

It’s all I can do to cover my snort of laughter with a cough when Kaede shoots me a heated glare. ‘Don’t fuck this up for Court or I’ll kill you,’ that stare vows. Courtney has buoyed him through the openings of dozens of One Life Gyms over the last few years, and tonight, he’s taking the role as supportive husband of his newly-crowned CEO wife seriously. Exceedingly so. I can understand that, respect it even, and honestly, while I might be significantly wider and harder than Kaede, he’s quick and trained, so I’d rather not have to fight him. Been there, done that during our Bro Training Sessions, with Ross, Kaede, and me taking turns as fighters and referees. Kaede’s a stone-cold badass despite his polo shirts and fancy watches.

But the truth is, if any of us throws more than a glare tonight, our wives will kill us and then provide each other’s alibis. And we all know it. Vi definitely has a secret get-out-of-jail-free card hidden up her sleeve at all times. And if she doesn’t, Archie could sweet-talk our wives into or out of anything.

So, I give a chin dip to answer his threatening look. ‘My bad,’ I apologize.

Back to Abigail, I growl in her ear, “I think we’d best save the twerking for later tonight, at home. With you naked, sitting on top of me, impaled on my cock while your lush ass jiggles with every drop.”

I feel the hitch in her breath and know I’m getting to her. She’s so responsive to me, it’s easy even after all these years.

“You think I’m going to do all the work while you just lay there?” she dares.

“Nope, I’m going to grab those hips so hard I leave fingerprints, guide your pace, and stop you when you get on the edge. Then I’m going to tease that pretty pink rosebud with my thumb until you’re trembling with need. And maybe I’ll let you come then or maybe I’ll make you wait until I’ve filled you with my cum again and again. And only then will I keep using your body until you come.”

A shiver works its way down her spine and I feel goosebumps pop up on her bare arms. “You play dirty.” The accusation is heated with lust.

“You like it.” She doesn’t need to see my face to know I’m giving her that smug smirk she hates and loves in equal measure.

Courtney claps her hands, “That’s everything. Any questions?”

Why is she looking at me and Abigail, and no one else?

Oh, yeah. Probably because they’re all listening with rapt attention to her instructions and we’re over here in the middle of some dirty talking foreplay.

“All good, Court,” Abigail answers, “except I missed the part where I set off the fireworks out front. Is that before hors d’oerves or after the toasts?”

There are no fireworks.

Probably.

Hell, who knows, there might be, knowing Abigail.

“Funny.” Courtney makes it clear that it’s anything but humorous and Kaede makes a move towards the door, presumably to check the yard for incendiary devices.

Abigail smiles innocently as she tells me, “Fools, the fireworks are out back . . . obviously. That’s where the pool will reflect them best.”

Aaaaand, there might actually be fireworks tonight, one way or another.

But I wouldn’t change a thing . . . not the roots I’ve put down to make a home here with Abigail and our precociously brilliant daughter, not the family I’ve been adopted into with equal parts business-minded drive and family-focused appreciation, and not the restaurant I’ve made into my own over the years with a menu I change at will after scouting trips the world over for sources and inspirations. It’s all . . . just what I needed to settle down.

Abigail is what I needed.

A way to have roots but still be a bit bad, a bit wild, a bit crazy.

A few hours later, there’s a houseful of people chatting over fancy hors d’oerves and sipping champagne. Ross has given his speech, full of light humor at the way him and his dad used to butt heads when they worked together but how he has always looked up to him. There are laughs and aww’s around the room. Then Morgan gave his speech, announcing Courtney as CEO. He gave the official speech at their board meeting this week, but this one is more personal, singing Courtney’s praises and foretelling Andrews continued success with her at the helm.

And then Courtney speaks. She’s mid-way through her five-year plan when there’s a big crash from the foyer.

Every Andrews eye cuts to me. We all know that if something’s gone wrong, there are two likely culprits.

My wife and my daughter.

I make a hurried exit to track down which of my two hellions has stepped in it this time. Even knowing that there’s no telling what I’m likely to find, I’m still shocked to see Abigail and Maisie laid out on the marble floor of the foyer. Fancy dresses be damned. Especially considering there’s a generous pile of –

Is that dirt surrounding them?

Of course it is.

“Mom! Don’t let him get away!” Maisie whisper-screams.

“Does Grandma even know you have these?” Abigail answers.

Maisie’s look is unabashed pride, “Duh. Of course not.”

Abigail couldn’t be more delighted of our daughter’s slight rebellion. I’m sure of that.

“Ladies, do you need some help?” I ask around a smile.

“Dad! Yes, help us catch them!”

I squat down and look more closely at the dirt, which is wiggling and squirming. I recoil and then realize that it’s just earthworms. My daughter has apparently made them a home in a deep bowl from Kimberly’s kitchen. I’m pretty sure that’s the bowl she served mashed potatoes in last Thanksgiving and I make a mental note to give it an extra hot and sudsy wash tonight to get rid of the worm germs.

I don’t pick up the worms individually, instead using my big hands to scoop the dirt, worms and all, back into the bowl.

“Thanks, Dad!” Maisie gushes, pecking my stubbly cheek with a kiss of appreciation.

Crisis averted it seems, until there’s another loud sound . . . outside. The boom is followed by a fizzy sound. I cut my eyes toward Abigail suspiciously.

“You didn’t? Did you?”

She has the decency to blush slightly, but her chin rises in defiance. “She deserves it! This is a big fudging’ deal!” She’s not cussing in front of Maisie even though Maisie has heard it all before.

I can’t help but chuckle.

“Hey Maisie, go on out back and watch the fireworks with your cousins and everyone. I’ll put your worms upstairs so they’re safe and sound, and Grandma doesn’t see them, okay?”

To my daughter’s credit, she does give the worms a motherly look, but she’s nine and fireworks are going to win out every time, so she runs off into the crowded room where Courtney’s speech has stopped abruptly.

“Let’s go outside and watch!” Maisie yells and like so many times before, my little ringleader-slash-gang boss has her three cousins running after her. With a few laughs, I hear everyone else start to go outside too.

I pick up the bowl of worms and eye my wife.

“Mia rosa, I don’t know how long that fireworks show you planned is going to last but I want two orgasms from you before the finale. So you’d better hurry.”

She scrambles to her feet, kicks off her heels and runs for the stairs. I let her get a headstart because she loves it when I chase her, and then follow, the bowl of worms carefully clutched in my hands.

By the time I set the worms down on Abigail’s dresser, she’s got her dress hiked up over her ass and her panties kicked off. They landed on the lampshade, giving the room a pink glow.

Abigail holds her hands up, “Dirty again. Guess I’ll have to go hands-free.” She grins and licks her lips, prepping her mouth for me.

I hold my dirty hands up too. “Me too.”

I don’t wait. I drop to my knees, clenching her thighs tight in my grip, dirt be damned, and taste her. No matter what I cook, what magic I create in the kitchen, nothing tastes as good as Abigail’s sweetness.

“Lorenz . . . ohhh!” she hisses. I love when she tries to stay quiet, but can’t because the sensations are too strong and overwhelm her.

“That’s one, mia rosa,” I warn. “I want more. Always more, with you.”

She thinks I’m talking about the second orgasm, but the truth is . . . it’s so much more than that. I want years with her by my side, surprising me, driving me crazy, showing up late with leaves in her hair, and playing in the dirt and flowers with our daughter.

This is what I spent all those years searching for, never able to settle down until I found someone special enough to make every day exciting, every place worth exploring, and every thing new.

She gives me roots, and I give her the freedom to fly. And even years later, our perfect life together is a big, fat, real honeymoon.

Chapitre 1

Abi – Dix ans plus tard…

— Beau boulot, Samantha. Les hortensias sont à se damner ! je la complimente en faisant tourner le bouquet devant mes yeux.

Je fais quelques ajustements qui ne sont pas nécessaires, mais je ne peux pas m’empêcher d’y plonger mes mains. Samantha compose ses propres créations depuis longtemps, mais celle-là est trop importante pour que je n’y dépose pas ma touche personnelle.

— Je sais, se réjouit-elle, en s’agitant, avant de prendre la pose.

Janey, qui se faufile derrière Samantha, met un doigt sur ses lèvres pour m’indiquer de me taire. Je dois me mordre la lèvre, mais juste assez longtemps pour que Janey donne une tape sur les fesses de Samantha. Le bruit est net et résonne. Tout comme le cri de Samantha qui tourne sur elle-même.

— En plein dans le mille ! s’exclame Janey en soufflant sur sa main.

— Je vais te faire payer pour ça ! promet Samantha avant de s’agripper à Janey pour lui rendre la pareille sur son généreux postérieur.

Elles se mettent à tourbillonner autour de moi, et m’emportent avec elles.

Je donne une fessée à Samantha, mais surtout, on rigole. Jusqu’à ce que le vase d’hortensias commence à vaciller, ce qui nous arrête net.

Nous tendons toutes les trois la main avec des regards d’horreur pour stabiliser l’arrangement sur la table de l’entrée.

— On pourrait peut-être continuer cette bataille en semaine à la boutique ? On a beaucoup de choses à finir avant le spectacle.

Quand nous travaillons ensemble sur quelque chose d’aussi important, c’est comme essayer d’attraper des chatons attirés par de l’herbe à chat, mais une bonne dose de folie nous aide à gérer le stress.

Janey et Samantha me lancent des demi-saluts, mais vu la façon dont elles se regardent, je suis certaine que dès que je quitterai la pièce, elles continueront leur corps-à-corps. Je pointe deux doigts en forme de V vers mes yeux, puis je les retourne pour indiquer clairement que je les regarde.

— Vous le cassez, vous le remboursez, préviens-je, tout en sachant que chaque élément de cette pièce est bien trop onéreux pour leurs salaires, bien que je sois généreuse avec elles.

— Oh ! Salut Courtney ! lance Janey en regardant par-dessus mon épaule, vraisemblablement vers ma sœur.

Elle a beau être ma cadette, elle devient la patronne quand elle entre dans une pièce. Y compris celle-ci, même si elle se trouve chez nos parents.

— Tout est superbe ! dit-elle, en se dirigeant directement vers les fleurs que nous avons presque détruites.

Après une rapide appréciation, ses yeux se tournent vers moi et s’écarquillent sous le choc.

— Sauf pour toi, Abs. Plus qu’une heure avant que les gens commencent à arriver et je suppose que si tu ressembles à ça, Maisie a l’air encore pire ?

Je ne laisserai pas ma fille se faire insulter de la sorte, alors, une main sur la hanche et un doigt pointé vers son visage, je grogne.

— Retire ce que tu viens de dire ou tu vas perdre ta couronne de tante la plus cool !

Elle n’est pas intimidée le moins du monde. Au contraire, elle sourit parce qu’elle sait qu’elle bat ses concurrents, haut la main.

— Tante Vi a peut-être des copains avec qui Maisie peut jouer, mais elle n’a pas de trampoline d’intérieur, d’armoire à dessin bien remplie, ni d’abonnement au musée des sciences.

— Tu achètes l’affection de ma fille ? j’accuse en luttant contre un sourire.

Elle lève un sourcil parfaitement dessiné pour toute réponse.

Courtney est vraiment une tante formidable pour ma fille, Maisie, et les enfants de Vi, Carly et les jumeaux, Aida et Aldo, même si elle a tendance à les gâter, à les chouchouter, puis à les renvoyer chez eux.

Vous voyez ? C’est la meilleure.

Malheureusement, elle a aussi raison. En voyant la saleté sous mes ongles et en sachant que je ne me suis pas encore coiffée, je suis prête à parier que ma fille a certainement besoin d’un vrai bain avant la fête.

— Je vais aller la chercher.

Je suis à mi-chemin quand Courtney m’appelle.

— Maman a déjà envoyé Maisie à l’étage prendre son bain. Elle doit être toute fripée à l’heure qu’il est.

D’un coup, je suis jalouse de ma fille… et j’envisage de prendre moi-même un bain moussant. Je me demande où est mon mari sexy ? Peut-être qu’il pourrait me rejoindre pour un petit coup rapide si je faisais un chignon avec mes cheveux ?

— Pas le temps pour ça, dit Courtney, comme si elle était capable de lire dans mes pensées. Je veux que tout le monde soit dans le salon pour une réunion de famille d’ici trente minutes avant l’arrivée des invités. Ne sois pas en retard ou nous déplacerons la réunion dans la salle de bain et alors maman et papa verront ce tatouage sur tes fesses.

— Tu es horrible. Tu as juré de ne jamais utiliser ça contre moi !

Je ne suis pas devenue folle de tatouages comme Lorenzo, qui est presque recouvert de lignes noires sexy à mort à présent, mais disons que je suis passée voir Reno quelques fois depuis la nuit où nous nous sommes fait tatouer nos alliances.

— Je ne l’utilise pas contre toi. Je te dis juste ce qu’il en est. Ce soir est trop important pour laisser quoi que ce soit au hasard.

Sur ce, elle se remet à regarder la tablette dans ses mains pour vérifier à nouveau sa liste. Elle l’a certainement déjà vérifiée un nombre incalculable de fois, alors le fait qu’elle le fasse à nouveau, est un signe de sa nervosité.

— Court, dis-je gentiment, en me rapprochant d’elle mais sans la toucher avec mes mains pleines de terre et elle lève son regard pour rencontrer le mien. Tu es prête pour ça, à cent pour cent.

— Tu crois ? demande-t-elle doucement.

— Tout le monde sait que tu l’es, surtout papa, sinon il ne prendrait pas sa retraite et ne te laisserait pas les rênes.

Je sais que c’est sa plus grande inquiétude : décevoir l’homme dont elle s’est inspirée pour sa carrière.

— C’est vrai, dit-elle avec hésitation et je la regarde fixement, ce qui la fait répéter d’une voix plus forte. C’est vrai. J’ai travaillé dur pour ça. Et je suis prête. J’imagine que je n’arrive pas à croire que c’est en train d’arriver.

Elle lâche un petit rire avant de continuer.

— Je pense qu’il y a une partie de moi qui pensait que papa ne prendrait jamais sa retraite.

— Vraiment ? Je pensais que maman lui aurait fait faire des croisières d’un mois pour les retraités il y a des années.

En réalité, mon père ne sait pas qu’elle a réservé une de ces croisières pour dans trois semaines. C’est à la fois un cadeau de retraite et un cadeau pour qu’il ne soit plus dans les pattes de Courtney.

Cette dernière met la main sur ma bouche, en regardant par-dessus son épaule, comme si papa pouvait m’entendre. Je lève un sourcil ironique en même temps que je lèche sa paume.

— Argh ! Dégueulasse ! T’as quel âge… dix ans ? s’écrie-t-elle.

Janey lui tend une serviette, sachant que Court n’est pas du genre à essuyer le crachat sur sa jolie robe. Alors qu’elle s’essuie la main, elle lance un coup de menton vers l’escalier.

— Il te reste vingt-cinq minutes maintenant. Tu ferais mieux d’en faire bon usage.

Je suis à mi-chemin dans l’escalier pour aller faire ce qu’elle a demandé, ce qui n’est pas nécessairement ce qu’elle voulait dire, quand elle crie après moi.

— Fais descendre Lorenzo. Pas le temps de batifoler et je pourrais avoir besoin son aide dans la cuisine.

Argh. Elle est tellement rabat-joie.

Dans ma chambre, je vois ma robe accrochée à la porte du placard et mes chaussures en dessous. Sur l’autre porte se trouve la robe de Maisie. J’attrape sa robe vert émeraude et me dirige vers la chambre principale, sachant que si elle prend un bain moussant, c’est dans la profonde baignoire à remous de maman. Je frappe à la porte pour m’assurer de ne pas tomber accidentellement sur mes parents dans une position compromettante si je me trompe sur le bain de Maisie.

— Entre, indique ma mère, mais j’ouvre quand même la porte lentement, avec une main sur les yeux. Nous sommes habillés, chérie.

Cette dernière remarque est accompagnée d’un rire.

Je retire ma main pour voir maman redresser la cravate déjà bien droite de papa, mais elle se dirige vers moi dès qu’elle voit la robe.

— Tiens, donne-moi ça et je vais m’assurer que Maisie se prépare pendant que tu te laves. Elle était encore dans le jardin, elle a « sauvé » quelques vers.

— Merci, Maman.

Alors que je lui remets la robe, elle voit mes cuticules sales et tire la langue. Dans son souffle, je suis sûre de l’entendre dire « telle mère, telle fille ». Je ne pense pas qu’elle parle de nous deux, mais de moi et de ma fille — l’esprit libre, à la limite du sauvage.

De retour dans ma chambre, je saute dans la douche, me résigne à mon habituel chignon coiffé-décoiffé, même si j’avais l’espoir de coiffer mes cheveux pour en faire quelque chose de plus chic cette fois-ci, et je me maquille rapidement en me concentrant sur une bonne couche de mascara et des lèvres rouges parce que c’est tout ce dont j’ai le temps.

Ok, je suis prête.

Les fleurs sont prêtes.

Maman s’occupe de Maisie.

Oh merde… J’espère que Courtney a réussi à mettre la main sur Lorenzo parce que j’ai complètement oublié qu’elle m’a demandé de le faire. Oups.

Lorenzo

Je ne peux pas m’empêcher de traîner dans la cuisine avec les traiteurs. Il y a toujours une technique à apprendre, une recette à goûter, un ingrédient ou une présentation à découvrir. Bien sûr, Morgan m’a demandé si je voulais être le traiteur pour l’événement de ce soir, mais je préfère être ici en famille, et ne pas travailler dans la cuisine toute la soirée. Ironique, car c’est toujours là que je finis de toute façon. Mais au moins je peux m’éclipser quand Courtney exige une réunion de famille.

Dans le salon, presque tout le monde est déjà réuni. Ross et Violet sont assis sur le canapé avec leurs trois enfants — Carly, Aida et Aldo — entre eux. Kaede se tient légèrement derrière Courtney, qui discute tranquillement avec Morgan. Kimberly est assise sur le canapé et écoute une histoire très animée de ma fille, Maisie. L’histoire parle apparemment de… vers ? Je ne suis pas surpris.

La seule absence suspecte ? Ma magnifique femme.

Je montre les escaliers, en demandant silencieusement si je dois aller la chercher. On ne sait pas où ma charmante épouse est partie, ni dans quoi elle s’est embarquée.

Courtney secoue la tête.

— J’ai envoyé Karl la chercher. Tu devras la mettre au parfum car nous avons un calendrier à respecter.

J’acquiesce, ne voulant pas me mettre en travers du chemin de Courtney quand elle est en mode patronne.

— Bien. Ce soir est important, nous le savons tous. J’ai besoin que chacun se comporte au mieux, commence-t-elle, et Morgan pose une main douce sur son épaule.

— Chérie, je pense que la seule personne qui a besoin d’entendre ça est toujours à l’étage.

Je défendrais bien ma femme, mais Morgan a raison et nous le savons tous, alors je me contente de sourire en haussant les épaules. Si l’impulsivité d’Abigail lui attire des ennuis, je prendrai un plaisir particulier à m’occuper de ce problème… et d’elle. L’idée même est plutôt séduisante et je me demande si je ne pourrais pas l’aider à trouver un petit moment de folie ce soir qui ne mettra pas Courtney hors d’elle.

Cette dernière est d’accord avec Morgan, et continue la liste des choses qu’elle veut couvrir avant le début de la fête.

— Nous allons rencontrer et saluer les gens à leur arrivée, puis Ross fera son discours en l’honneur de papa… explique-t-elle en pointant un doigt vers son frère, tu l’as, n’est-ce pas ?

Ross a l’habitude de dire à Courtney qu’elle est une maniaque du contrôle, mais nous savons tous à quel point elle est sur les nerfs en ce moment, alors il répond gentiment.

— Oui, c’est bon.

S’attendant à cette réponse, elle continue.

— Alors Papa, tu parleras et annonceras que je reprends Andrews Consolidated. Oh mon Dieu, je reprends Andrews Consolidated.

Ses yeux sont vitreux, comme si elle ne réalisait que maintenant la raison pour laquelle nous organisons cette fête ce soir. Kaede s’approche d’elle et pose une main apaisante sur le bas de son dos et on peut voir le stress s’évanouir. Elle lui envoie un regard reconnaissant et il sourit, sa fierté pour sa femme est évidente.

Une chose que je peux dire sur les enfants Andrews… bien que tous leurs mariages ont commencé dans des circonstances inhabituelles, chacune des relations n’a fait que se solidifier au fil des ans. Le souhait de Morgan de voir ses enfants trouver le bonheur dans l’amour et la famille s’est définitivement réalisé.

Comme si elle m’entendait penser à elle, les talons d’Abigail claquent rapidement dans le hall et elle apparaît dans l’encadrement de la porte, belle et en retard, comme toujours.

— Je suis en retard ? J’aurais juré que je serais à l’heure.

Courtney lève les yeux au ciel.

— Je t’ai donné dix minutes de marge parce que je savais que tu serais en retard, alors non, tu n’es pas en retard… juste à temps pour le moment où j’ai vraiment besoin de toi.

Les yeux d’Abigail s’enflamment, promettant une vengeance, qui sera probablement au rendez-vous de ce soir, et que Courtney jugera complètement inappropriée. J’ai hâte de voir ça.

Quelques pas de plus dans la pièce et Abigail se retrouve à mes côtés. Courtney continue de parler, quelque chose à propos de discours et de rappels sur ce qu’il faut dire et ne pas dire à certaines personnes. La liste se trouve dans nos e-mails, et Abigail et moi ne l’avons certainement pas lue. Mais la voix de Courtney se transforme en un fond sonore alors que je regarde ma femme.

Ses cheveux sont coiffés en un chignon relâché, dont je sais qu’il suffit de tirer quelques épingles à cheveux pour qu’il se détache, car je l’ai fait un nombre incalculable de fois. La couleur de ses lèvres est ma nuance de rouge préférée, celle qui est sexy quand elle transfère sur ma peau d’olive, contre les lignes noires de mes tatouages. Et sa robe épouse ses légères courbes moelleuses qu’elle porte depuis la naissance de notre fille.

— Tu es magnifique, mia rosa, je chuchote en passant mon bras autour de sa taille, la tirant pour qu’elle se tienne devant moi.

— Tu n’es pas mal non plus, mon mari, répond-elle en me regardant avec une étincelle dans le regard.

— Tu me gardes une danse ?

Elle se tapote la lèvre avec un ongle fraîchement peint en rose et étonnamment propre, faisant mine de considérer sérieusement ma demande.

— Ça dépend de la chanson. J’ai envie de twerker sur Pony de Ginuwine ce soir. Tu es partant ?

Je n’arrive à couvrir mon rire qu’en toussant, et Kaede me lance un regard noir : « Ne gâche pas ça pour Court ou je te tue ». Courtney l’a soutenu lors de l’ouverture de douzaines de One Life Gym au cours des dernières années, et ce soir, il prend au sérieux son rôle de mari solidaire de sa femme, nouvellement couronnée PDG. Extrêmement sérieux. Je le comprends, le respecte même, et honnêtement, même si je suis beaucoup plus baraqué que Kaede, il est rapide et entraîné, donc je préférerais ne pas avoir à me battre avec lui. Je l’ai déjà fait pendant nos sessions d’entraînement entre frères, avec Ross, Kaede et moi qui nous relayons comme combattants et arbitres. Kaede est un dur à cuire malgré ses polos et ses montres de luxe.

Mais la vérité, c’est que si l’un d’entre nous jette plus qu’un regard noir ce soir, nos femmes nous tueront et se fourniront des alibis les unes aux autres. Et nous le savons tous. Vi a certainement une carte secrète « sortie de prison » cachée dans sa manche. Et si elle ne l’a pas, Archie pourrait convaincre nos femmes de faire n’importe quoi.

Alors, je baisse le menton pour répondre à son regard menaçant.

— C’est ma faute, je m’excuse avant de retourner mon attention sur elle et de lui grogner dans l’oreille. Je pense qu’il vaut mieux garder le twerk pour plus tard dans la soirée, à la maison. Avec toi nue, assise sur moi, empalée sur ma queue pendant que ton cul savoureux se trémousse en rythme.

Je sais que j’ai réussi à me faire entendre quand sa respiration devient saccadée. Elle est si sensible à mon charme, même après toutes ces années.

— Tu crois que je vais faire tout le travail pendant que tu restes allongé là ? rétorque-t-elle.

— Non, je vais saisir ces hanches si fort que je laisserai des empreintes digitales, je vais guider ton rythme et t’arrêter quand tu seras à bout. Puis je vais taquiner ce joli bouton de rose avec mon pouce jusqu’à ce que tu trembles de désir. Et peut-être que je te laisserai jouir à ce moment-là ou peut-être que je te ferai attendre jusqu’à ce que je te remplisse de mon sperme encore et encore. Et alors seulement, je continuerai à utiliser ton corps jusqu’à ce que tu jouisses.

Un frisson parcourt sa colonne vertébrale et je sens la chair de poule sur ses bras nus.

— Tu ne la joues pas réglo.

L’accusation est brûlante de désir.

— Tu aimes ça.

Elle n’a pas besoin de voir mon visage pour savoir que j’ai ce sourire suffisant qu’elle déteste et aime à la fois.

Courtney frappe dans ses mains.

— C’est tout. Des questions ?

Pourquoi est-ce qu’elle nous regarde, Abigail et moi, et personne d’autre ?

Oh, sûrement parce qu’ils sont tous en train d’écouter avec une attention soutenue ses instructions et que nous sommes ici au milieu de préliminaires cochons.

— Tout est bon, Court, répond Abigail, sauf que j’ai raté la partie où je déclenche le feu d’artifice devant la maison. C’est avant les hors-d’œuvre ou après les toasts ?

Il n’y a pas de feux d’artifice.

Je crois.

Enfin, qui sait, il pourrait y en avoir, connaissant Abigail.

— Très drôle.

Courtney fait comprendre que c’est tout sauf de l’humour et Kaede se dirige vers la porte, probablement pour vérifier la présence d’engins incendiaires dans la cour.

— Quelle bande d’imbéciles, les feux d’artifice sont derrière… évidemment. C’est là que la piscine les reflétera le mieux, dit Abigail avec un sourire innocent.

Eh bien, il pourrait y avoir des feux d’artifice ce soir.

Mais je ne changerais ça pour rien au monde… ni les valises que j’ai posées ici avec Abigail et notre fille précoce et brillante, ni la famille qui m’a adopté avec enthousiasme, ni le restaurant que j’ai fait mien au fil des ans avec un menu que je modifie à volonté après avoir fait des voyages dans le monde entier pour trouver source et inspiration. C’est tout… juste ce dont j’avais besoin pour me poser.

Abigail est ce dont j’avais besoin.

Une façon de m’enraciner tout en restant un peu mauvais, un peu sauvage, un peu fou.

Quelques heures plus tard, il y a une maison pleine de gens qui discutent autour de hors-d’oeuvre raffinés et qui sirotent du champagne. Ross a prononcé son discours, plein d’humour sur la façon dont lui et son père se disputaient lorsqu’ils travaillaient ensemble, mais aussi sur le fait qu’il l’a toujours admiré. Il y a des rires et des acclamations dans la salle. Puis Morgan a fait son discours, présentant Courtney comme nouvelle PDG. Il a déjà prononcé le discours officiel lors de la réunion du conseil d’administration cette semaine, mais celui-ci est plus personnel, il chante les louanges de Courtney et prédit le succès continu d’Andrews avec elle à la barre.

Et c’est au tour de Courtney de prendre la parole. Elle explique son plan pour les cinq prochaines années quand il y a un grand fracas dans l’entrée.

Tous les regards de la famille Andrews se tournent vers moi. Nous savons tous que si quelque chose ne va pas, il y a deux coupables possibles.

Ma femme et ma fille.

Je me dépêche de sortir afin de savoir laquelle des deux a gaffé cette fois. Ignorant ce que je vais trouver, je suis choqué de voir Abigail et Maisie étendues sur le sol en marbre du hall. Les belles robes sont fichues. Surtout si l’on considère qu’il y a un généreux tas de…

C’est de la terre qui les entoure ?

Évidemment.

— Maman ! Ne le laisse pas s’échapper ! murmure Maisie.

— Est-ce que grand-mère sait que tu as ça au moins ? demande Abigail.

— Pfff. Bien sûr que non, répond notre fille avec une fierté non dissimulée.

Abigail ne pourrait pas être plus ravie de sa légère rébellion. J’en suis sûr.

— Mesdames, avez-vous besoin d’aide ? j’interroge en souriant.

— Papa ! Oui, aide-nous à les attraper !

Je m’accroupis et regarde la terre de plus près, qui s’agite et se tortille. Je recule, puis je réalise que ce ne sont que des vers de terre. Ma fille leur a apparemment construit une maison dans un saladier provenant de la cuisine de Kimberly. Je suis presque sûr que c’est dans celui-ci qu’elle a servi la purée de pommes de terre au dernier Thanksgiving et je note mentalement de le laver à l’eau bouillante et savonneuse ce soir pour retirer les bactéries des vers.

Je ne les ramasse pas individuellement, mais j’utilise mes grandes mains pour remettre la terre, les vers et tout le reste, dans le saladier.

— Merci Papa ! s’exclame Maisie, en déposant un baiser de remerciement sur ma joue mal rasée.

La crise semble évitée, jusqu’à ce qu’il y ait un autre bruit fort… à l’extérieur. Le boom est suivi d’un bruit de pétillement. Je tourne mon regard suspicieux vers Abigail.

— Non, c’est pas vrai ?

Elle a la décence de rougir légèrement, mais son menton se lève en signe de défi.

— Elle le mérite ! C’est une pétard de grosse affaire !

Elle ne jure pas devant Maisie, même si cette dernière a déjà entendu des gros mots.

Je ne peux pas m’empêcher de glousser.

— Hé Maisie, va dans le jardin et regarde le feu d’artifice avec tes cousins et tout le monde. Je vais mettre tes vers en haut pour qu’ils soient en sécurité et que grand-mère ne les voie pas, ok ?

À la décharge de ma fille, elle jette un regard maternel aux vers, mais elle a neuf ans et les feux d’artifice l’emportent toujours, alors elle s’enfuit dans la salle bondée où le discours de Courtney s’est arrêté brusquement.

— Allons dehors et regardons ! crie Maisie et comme tant de fois auparavant, ma petite chef de bande entraîne ses trois cousins avec elle.

J’entends tous les autres sortir aussi en rigolant.

Je ramasse le bol de vers et je regarde ma femme.

— Mia rosa, je ne sais pas combien de temps va durer le feu d’artifice que tu as prévu mais je veux que tu aies deux orgasmes avant le final. Alors tu ferais mieux de te dépêcher.

Elle se relève, jette ses talons et court dans les escaliers. Je la laisse prendre de l’avance car elle adore que je la poursuive, ce que je fais avec le bol de vers soigneusement serré dans mes mains.

Le temps que je pose le saladier sur la commode d’Abigail, elle a remonté sa robe sur ses fesses et retiré sa culotte. Elles ont atterri sur l’abat-jour, donnant à la pièce une lueur rose.

— Encore sales, dit Abigail en levant les mains. J’imagine que je vais devoir le faire sans les mains.

Elle sourit et se lèche les lèvres, préparant sa bouche pour moi.

— Moi aussi, je rétorque en levant mes mains sales elles aussi.

Je n’attends pas. Je m’agenouille, empoigne ses cuisses — au diable la saleté — et je la goûte. Peu importe ce que je cuisine, quelle magie je crée avec mes plats, rien n’a le même goût que la douceur d’Abigail.

— Lorenz… ohhh ! siffle-t-elle.

J’adore quand elle essaie de rester silencieuse, mais qu’elle n’y arrive pas parce que les sensations sont trop fortes et la submergent.

— En voilà un, mia rosa, je préviens. J’en veux plus. Toujours plus, avec toi.

Elle pense que je parle du deuxième orgasme, mais la vérité est que… c’est bien plus que ça. Je veux passer des années avec elle à mes côtés, me surprenant, me rendant fou, rentrant tard avec des feuilles dans les cheveux, et jouant dans la terre et les fleurs avec notre fille.

C’est ce que j’ai cherché pendant toutes ces années, sans jamais pouvoir me poser jusqu’à ce que je trouve quelqu’un d’assez spécial pour rendre chaque jour excitant, chaque endroit digne d’être exploré et chaque chose nouvelle.

Elle m’offre des racines, et je lui donne la liberté de voler. Et même des années plus tard, notre vie parfaite ensemble est une belle, bonne, vraie lune de miel.

Si vous avez aimé cette histoire, ne manquez pas de lire les deux autres, Mon mariage chic en toc (Violet & Ross) et Mon fiancé chic en toc (Courtney & Kaede). Lisez la suite pour un aperçu de l’histoire de Violet et Ross !

Chapter 1

Courtney

“Potty break, excuse me really quick,” Abi says as she makes a beeline for the studio door, aka freedom.

I catch her elbow, spinning her in place. “Nice try, but denied. Do you know how many yoga classes I’ve been to now? Six. I can give you the dates if you’d like a refresher. Do you know how many Zumba classes you’ve been to with me? Zero. Got those dates too.” I pull out my imaginary planner and pen, tapping on my palm as though it’s my calendar.

Abi balks. “Nu-uh. I did the one at the 5K event. That counts!”

“Doesn’t count,” I counter, leaving no room for argument.

She crosses her arms, but I can see the sparkle in her eye. She wants to do this, she just doesn’t want to suck at it. She’s an Andrews after all and we like to succeed.

Violet pipes up. “Abs, if I’m doing this, you’re doing this. But quit talking about potty breaks. I’m nervous enough about jumping around after Carly. If I run out, I’m fine. I just pissed myself.” She sighs heavily.

We don’t dare laugh. It’s a very real concern for Violet. We’d teased her about doing post-partum Kegel exercises until Ross said he was ‘helping’ her with that. Abi and I had both quickly ew’ed out of that conversation after that.

“We’ve got a few minutes before we start, so let’s ask Stacylynne to give you a quick breakdown.” I already showed them the basic footwork, and to Abi’s credit, she did pretty well at the event during the one time she did Zumba with me. But perfectionism runs in our blood and Vi’s got her own healthy dose of it too.

Abi snaps her fingers and points at me. “Good idea. I do have a question.”

Oh shit. There’s no telling what question Abi might have, but if it gets her talking to Stacylynne and not making a run for the door, I’ll take it.

“Hey Stacylynne! This is my sister, Abi. I finally got her to come to class.” How’d you like that bus, sis? Throw you right under it and let the wheels bump, bump over you. “And my sister from another mister, Violet.”

Stacylynne is her usual effusive self, exclaiming excitedly, “Oh Abi! Violet! It’s so nice to finally meet you two in person! I’ve heard so much about you and Ross talks about Carly non-stop, flashing pictures to anyone who even makes eye contact with him! Welcome to Zumba!” Literally everything she says ends in an exclamation mark… at least one. And she’s bouncing around on her toes before finally giving in and scooping Abi into a hug.

Abi looks over Stacylynne’s shoulder at me and mouths, “Is she for real?” I nod back, grinning. Yep, she’s legit this… awesome.

Stacylynne then squeezes Violet, and there’s a chance of a Code Yellow, so I jump in to save Vi.

“I showed them some of the footwork, but they’re a little nervous about the twerking. I thought maybe you could give them the breakdown?” Pure sweetness in my tone, but there’s a hint of ice in it, knowing Abi in particular is going to kill me. But this opportunity is too good to pass up.

Stacylynne claps and bounces again. “Absolutely! You’re the yoga sister, right?”

Abi answers slowly, not sure what that has to do with anything. “Yes?”

“You are so set then. Follow me.”

Stacylynne drops into a squat, and Abi and Violet match her pose. “Good. So knees behind your toes, hips pressed back, hands in the middle of your thighs… not on your knees. Save those joints.”

Abi blinks, likely thinking Stacylynne is probably not talking about knee joints. But she actually is. Knees are important… for so many things, like blow jobs and doggy style and oh yeah, picking stuff up off the floor. But that’s not as exciting, though I can drop it like Jillian does now.

Stacylynne keeps going, completely unaware of my mental tangent fantasizing about Kaede taking me from behind on that fluffy living room rug.

“Now, from yoga, you’re familiar with doing cat and cow back stretches. So curve your back up like a scared cat, good. Now reverse, and go swayback like a cow. Again, pay special attention to your hip movement, the release up and the drop down of the pelvis.” Abi does several reps, her yoga giving her way more flexibility than I had when I started. Violet follows along as best as she can.

“Here’s the tricky part. The cat and cow pelvic motion continues, but the upper back and shoulders stay still.” Stacylynne demonstrates slowly, her mid back to shoulders not moving and her hips lifting and dropping. It takes a couple of tries, but Abi and Vi do it too.

“And faster…”

“And faster…”

Stacylynne speeds up all the way to eleven, twerking like the Twerk Queen she is. Vi stares open-mouthed, but Abi tries valiantly. It’s no use though, it’s a losing battle of experience and comparatively, Abi looks like the virgin twerker she is. Even so, Stacylynne cheers her on, “Yasss, girl! Hit that bounce! Beautiful!”

Violet and I cheer them on, clapping and grinning.

“Get it, Abi,” Violet says as I slip my phone out to take a quick video. With Abi, you never know when that’ll come in handy. Purely for private use and sisterly blackmail, of course. I’d never let anyone else see it.

Abi laughs, losing the rhythm and stands up. Offering a high five to Stacylynne, she says, “Thank you so much. That actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

Stacylynne returns the high five and adds a wink to Violet, “Homework!” Her sing-song’ing of the word says quite clearly that she doesn’t mean for them to practice alone.

“I did have one other question. Is there any way you can get my sister up front with you today for at least one song? I want to see her doing her thing front and center like the boss she is,” Abi says, pure love and light. And evil domino setter-upper.

I shake my head, waving my hands in front of me. “Nooo. Hell no.”

Stacylynne stops my hands, holding them in her own. “Absolutely yes. You are one of my star students, going from tight and uncertain to loose and sure. Beautiful both ways, as your truth. But your progress is something to be proud of and a shining example of what can be accomplished when you push through difficulty and maintain the course.”

She lost me somewhere around ‘yes’, when my mind starting screaming in nerves, but I appreciate the compliment.

I can’t do this!

Oh yes, I can. Watch me!

Angel and devil still fighting in my head, but this time, it’s the angel with the positive attitude who wins.

“Okay,” a disembodied voice says. Oh shit, that was me.

I throw Abi a glare at the returning bus she threw me under, but I guess that’s fair. Abi grins in answer, beyond excited to see me do my thing. And I put two and two together and realize my twerk video of Abi is going to be useless because she’s absolutely going to film me too. I learned some of those sisterly lessons from her after all. But I smile her way anyways, not mad and maybe even a little excited to show off.

“Can we do the salsa one I like? The Gente de Zona one?”

Stacylynne claps again. “Yes! Your hip flow is lovely on that one. It’ll be about halfway through the playlist, so be ready, Courtney!”

Abi, Violet and I return to our places, scooting our towels and water bottles out of the way. “You ready for this?” I ask them.

“Bring it,” Abi responds.

Vi cringes. “I think I do need to pee before class starts.”

As Violet hustles off, I remind Abi, “Hey, you’re still good to take care of my plants while Kaede and I gone, right? We leave this afternoon for Charlotte.”

Abi grins evilly. “That depends on how this goes,” she says, spinning a finger in the air to indicate the Zumba class.

But I know her buttons, so I feign utter sadness, “If you say so, but it’d be a real shame for Spikeasaurus Rex to die of dehydration after a long, healthy life of twenty years because you were mad at me.”

“It’s a cactus, Court! They barely need water,” Abi argues. But after a moment, she sighs, “Yeah, I’ll take care of your plants. Way to get at my heart.”

Chapter 2

Kaede

“What’s the plan?” Courtney asks as she sets our shared suitcase away in the hotel room closet. That she has no idea confirms just how far she’s come. This trip is my show and she’s happy to come along for the ride with no ideas, no agenda, and no preconceived to-do list or schedule.

I put our bathroom bag on the counter, setting us up neatly for the process of getting ready in the morning. But for tonight… there’s no need.

I snake my arms around Court’s waist, sweeping her hair to the side to kiss and nibble her neck. Against her skin, I murmur, “Well, it was going to be a surprise, but I know how much you hate those.”

Her eyes have fallen closed and her head leans back to give me greater access, but I see the lift her of lips as a smile blossoms. “Not your surprises. I love your surprises.”

“Want me to tell you anyways?”

That pause, the way her teeth bite into her lower lip as she debates means everything. She trusts me, but she likes knowing, likes getting excited about whatever we’re doing, likes… a plan. It’s who she is. It’s who I am, so I understand.

I give in, excited to tell her too. I’ve been sitting on this for weeks and I have a hard time keeping my mouth closed when it comes to Courtney. I want to share everything with her – a sign of how far I’ve come too.

“Tonight… we are going to get naked, fuck ourselves into exhaustion, order room service, and then crash by ten like the responsible adults we are because we have an early wakeup call.” I accent the plan with kisses along her bare shoulder, working my way over the strap of her tank top.

Courtney hums happily, “I was with you until you said early wakeup.” She’s lying through her teeth. She’ll wake up no later than seven, no matter what time we fall asleep tangled in each other.

“There’s a good reason,” I tease, dangling an invisible carrot.

She spins in place, her arms going around my neck as she presses against me. “Dazzle me with a reason good enough to get me out of bed and out of your arms. Fair warning, I already know that you have to go in to the new location tomorrow, so I don’t think there’s one.”

She thinks she knows everything. Challenge accepted.

“I do have to go into the gym tomorrow for a full day of work. That’s why we’re here, remember?”

Courtney’s bottom lip puffs out ever so slightly, but it’s a farce. She’s not a pouter and the sparkle in her eyes says loud and clear that she’s teasing.

But we are here for me to spend some time at the new Charlotte facility. The opening was a few months ago, and was a rousing success. Ross and I hand-selected the manager, the trainers, the staff, and every piece of the members’ experience from the front door in. But we’re not hands-off owners by any stretch, me especially, and I need to spend some time verifying that the Charlotte location is holding up to the exacting standards of the original.

I grab Court’s pouty lip between my teeth, nipping her and she yelps before laughing.

“What I’m hearing is that you have to get up early, so maybe I’ll get up and have coffee with you and then laze about for a couple more hours. See what Charlotte has to offer and do some sightseeing.” She makes a vague gesture toward the curtained window, indicating all of the city outside.

“The best thing Charlotte has to offer is One Life Gym. We both know that.” I give her the cocky smile she once confessed melts her body, mind, and soul. I use it judiciously now so it doesn’t lose its effect.

“Are you proposing that you take your wife to work with you? That might seem a bit possessive,” she protests reasonably, holding up her finger and thumb an inch apart. But her smile says she doesn’t really mind me being a bit possessive, even territorial. Within reason. She’s her own person, but we’re more than a little wound up in each other, making up for lost time.

I shrug, “We’re newlyweds. They’ll understand.”

I see the lightbulb go off in her head. Smart woman putting puzzle pieces together fast. “And do you think I’m going to sit around all day on one of those leather couches Violet picked out? They’re gorgeous and comfortable, but I might get bored after a while.”

My lips quirk and I lift one brow. “You really want to know?” She nods excitedly, and I can’t deny her. “I booked you a full day at the One Life spa tomorrow. Massage, facial, mani-pedi, haircut and style.” The spa is one of the Charlotte location’s special features, and has already received such rave reviews from locals that appointments fill up fast and early.

Her mouth falls open and tears spring to her eyes. My initial gut instinct is that I fucked up. Tears on a woman are so rarely a good thing, but a second later, I reason that they’re tears of happiness when she whispers, “You did that for me?”

I pull her to me again. “Absolutely. And I already warned Isabella that your feet are ridiculously ticklish and not to take any curses or jumps personally.”

She laughs and swats at my chest. “You did not.”

I did.

But that’s tomorrow. For now, there’s still tonight.

I dance her toward the bed until her knees catch and she falls backward, bouncing on the cushioned mattress as she sits. I pull her tank over her head, her hair falling long and loose around her shoulders and down to tease along her tits where they curve over her low-cut gray lace bra. She reaches behind her back, undoing the clasp and letting the bra melt away.

I growl, cupping her lushness firmly and teasing the already hardening nubs of her nipples with my thumbs. Courtney arches into my hands, silently asking for more and I’m not a strong enough man to ever deny her. I bend down to suck one and then the other, before pushing her back to lay on the bed.

I yank my own t-shirt over my head, dropping it to the floor, and then grab Court’s jeans. I pull them off too and they add to the pile of growing clothes. Running my hands up her thighs, I meet the matching gray lace of her panties and slip my fingers along the seam where it meets her skin. Dipping beneath the fabric, I find her pussy already soaking wet and ready. I tease my finger through her folds to her entrance, fucking her slowly. Inch by inch, I give her more, retreating and pressing back inside her until she writhes for me.

“More… Kaede… please,” she moans.

I push the lace to the side and lick a lazy circle around her clit. Her hands turn to claws in mid-air for a moment as she shudders and then they bury into my hair, scraping over my scalp as she holds me to her. She probably thinks she’s being forceful, shoving me into her pussy like a sex-hungry goddess. And she is that, but between her legs is my favorite place to be and there’s not much that could get me to stop feasting on her. I am starved for her… always.

“So fucking good, honey. So fucking mine,” I murmur with another circle of my tongue and another thrust of my finger, getting harder, faster, and more aggressive with her. “Wife.”

She cries out, fucking me back. I slam into her, holding deep and petting that spot that I know sends her over the edge in seconds. Her whole body goes tight as a drum, chin thrust towards the ceiling and mouth open in a silent scream.

Her juices coat my tongue, my chin, my hand and finally that scream releases and she cries out in pleasure. “Ah, yes… Kaede…”

I keep licking, wanting to drown in her, but as she gets overly sensitive, she pushes me back. I take her panties with me, shoving her thighs wide once the lace is clear, wanting to see her pussy still pulsing from the orgasm I gave her.

Courtney props up on her elbows, boldly watching me watch her.

As the aftershocks slow and her mind clears, she moves around to kneel on the bed in front of me with her sexy ass resting on her heels. With no preamble, she undoes my jeans and pushes them down my thighs, followed by my boxer briefs. With them still locked around my legs, she bends forward and sucks me into her throat in one go.

“Fuck, Court.” I gather her hair into one fist so I can see what she’s doing to me along with feeling it. Her mouth is heaven. The only thing better is her pussy. Or maybe her ass. Fuck, maybe they’re all heaven. My brain can’t make sense of it right now, too lost in a wash of ecstasy to rank degrees of pleasure.

Her cheeks hollow as she takes me in, and her tongue swirls around my tip as she retreats. She finds a rhythm, head bobbing over me. The sight of her mouth stretched obscenely around me, the arch of her back, the roundness of her ass all add to the sensations and too soon, I’m dangerously on the edge.

“Stop.” It’s an order, no doubt about it, but Courtney knows that complying is for both our benefit and with one last suck, she pops off. My cock jumps in protest and I have to reach down to squeeze at the base to stop from coming anyway.

Courtney lays back on the bed and I push my clothes the rest of the way off before crawling over her. She spreads her legs, giving me space between them, and holding myself up, I line up with her entrance. With one last breath, I fuse us into one.

“Mmm,” she moans. Her ankles wrap around my lower legs and her hands go to my biceps for leverage, and she curls her hips up to meet me.

She’s still tight around my cock, but the slickness eases my way in and out. I meet her eyes and she nods, ready.

I stroke into her faster, watching her closely. After a few thrusts, she’s with me all the way, and we fuck each other hard and rough. I grab one of her legs, lifting it to rest on my shoulder and open her even more. Sweat drips from my brow and Court’s hair has started to curl along her forehead, but still we go for more.

She moves, putting her other leg on my shoulder too. I shift back, weight in my knees to free my hands to grab her ass. Supporting her, I grip the flesh of her cheeks, bouncing her along my cock as I pump into her.

“Fuck, honey. I’m close. Come again with me.” It’s not an order this time, it’s a plea.

Courtney reaches between us, her fingers blurring over her clit. She’s there quickly, “Yes, I’m coming.” With a cry, she grits out, “Husband.”

It’s enough. It’s more than enough, and I feel the spike of my orgasm rush from my balls through my cock. I come hard, splashing cum deep inside her with a roar.

We ride out our pleasure, locked together in bliss. As it subsides, we’re both panting, and I collapse onto Courtney, letting her legs down gently. When our eyes meet, we smile.

“Round one. Check,” I tease, making a motion in the air like I’m marking it… marking her off my to-do list.

She laughs, pushing me off and then tackling me to the bed. Court straddles me, messy and sweaty, and I don’t care in the least, because the next agenda item is a hot shower. I let her pin me, delight in the look of fire in her eyes, and laugh deep and hard when she tickles me, having found my own ticklish spots ages ago too.

“I am not a to-do list item!” she argues around her smile.

“Well, I did you. And you weren’t complaining a minute ago. And you know what?” I use The Smirk when I tell her, “I’ll do you again too.” I pop her ass, then soothe the sting with a sweet caress.

She giggles, the one that only I get to hear, and the battle is on. Tickling hands, screams of delight, scrambling legs, and laughs of joy.

I hope it’s what we always have… together.

But first, a shower, room service, and round two because tomorrow morning’s wake-up call is going to be early. And I didn’t even tell Court about our dinner plans tomorrow after her day of pampering. It’s another… surprise.

If you haven’t read Ross and Violet’s story, My Big Fat Fake Wedding, just go here or search it on Amazon.

Chapitre 1

Courtney

⸻ Pause pipi ! Je reviens tout de suite !

Abi se précipita vers la porte – vers la liberté – mais je l’attrapai par le coude, la faisant tourner sur elle-même.

⸻ Bien tenté, mais c’est non ! Tu sais à combien de cours de yoga je suis allée pour te faire plaisir ? Six ! Je peux même te donner les dates si jamais tu as oublié. Et tu sais combien de cours de Zumba tu as fait avec moi ? Zéro ! Et j’ai aussi les dates…

⸻ Ce n’est pas vrai, rétorqua Abi à la manière d’une petite fille grincheuse. J’ai fait le cours d’essai, je te signale… Ça compte !

⸻ Non, ça ne compte pas, tranchai-je.

Elle croisa les bras, d’un air têtu. Pourtant, je voyais dans son regard qu’elle avait malgré tout envie de participer au cours mais qu’elle avait peur de ne pas réussir. C’était une Andrews ; nous étions tous pareils : nous n’aimions pas l’échec.

Violet me vint en aide.

⸻ Abi, si je le fais, tu le fais. Et pourtant je peux te dire que j’aimerais bien faire une pause pipi. Depuis ma grossesse, je n’arrête pas de me pisser dessus ! Mais tu vois, malgré tout, je reste…

Abi et moi nous regardâmes sans oser rire. Nous savions que c’était un sujet sérieux pour Violet, mais la voir à tout bout de champ pliée en deux, une main entre les jambes, nous amusait beaucoup et nous la taquinions souvent.

⸻ Il reste quelques minutes avant que le cours ne commence ; si tu veux, nous pouvons demander à Stacylynne de te montrer rapidement les mouvements ?

Je leur avais déjà montré le pas de base, et Abi ne s’était pas trop mal débrouillée lors du cours d’essai que Ross et Kaede avaient organisé, le jour de l’évènement.

⸻ Bonne idée ! répondit Abi avec enthousiasme. J’ai une question à lui poser…

J’avais un peu peur de la question qu’elle voulait poser, mais si cela pouvait faire qu’elle assiste à la séance, ça valait le coup de tenter…

⸻ Stacylynne ! Je te présente ma sœur, Abi. Elle avait hâte de suivre ton cours…

Et tac ! Je l’avais piégée… Elle ne pouvait plus partir.

⸻ Et voici ma belle-sœur, Violet.

⸻ Abi ! Violet ! Je suis tellement contente de vous connaître enfin ! s’exclama Stacylynne avec sa volubilité habituelle. J’ai tellement entendu parler de vous… Et de Carly, bien sûr ! Ross ne parle que d’elle, toute la journée… Bienvenue dans mon cours, en tout cas ! lança-t-elle en bondissant sur Abi qu’elle prit dans ses bras.

⸻ Elle est réelle ? murmura Abi, littéralement écrasée, par-dessus l’épaule de Stacylynne.

Je hochai la tête en souriant.

⸻ Elle l’est…

Stacylynne serra ensuite Violet contre elle, mais je décidai de venir en aide à ma belle-sœur pour éviter une visite aux urgences.

⸻ Je leur ai montré le pas de base, mais elles ont un peu peur de ne pas réussir à faire le twerk. Je me suis dit que tu pourrais peut-être leur montrer rapidement comment faire ?

Je ris mentalement, sachant qu’Abi devait avoir envie de me tuer mais qu’elle ne le pouvait pas.

⸻ Bien sûr ! s’exclama Stacylynne en sautant sur ses pieds – sans raison, elle était simplement survoltée. Abi, je crois que tu fais du yoga ?

Abi hésita à répondre, se demandant si ça n’allait pas se retourner contre elle…

⸻ Euh… Oui, en effet.

⸻ Alors ça va être simple pour toi… Les filles, faites comme moi.

Stacylynne se mit en position de squat, imitée par Abi et Violet.

⸻ Okay… Donc, genoux au niveau des orteils, fesses en arrière, et mains au milieu des cuisses… pas sur les genoux.

En regardant Stacylynne, je ne pouvais m’empêcher d’imaginer Kaede me prenant en levrette sur le sol moelleux de la salle…Il fallait à tout prix que je lui soumette l’idée.

⸻ Ensuite, vous bombez et débombez le dos, comme le mouvement chat-vache au yoga.

Les filles s’appliquèrent à refaire exactement comme Stacylynne.

⸻ Très bien ! Maintenant que vous avez ce mouvement, vous le faites plusieurs fois, en faisant particulièrement attention au mouvement de vos hanches, au relâchement et à la descente du bassin.

Grâce au yoga, Abi s’en tirait pas mal… Quant à Violet, c’était plus laborieux, mais elle faisait de son mieux.

⸻ Parfait… Maintenant, on va attaquer la partie plus délicate : on continue le mouvement du chat et de la vache, mais seulement avec les hanches. Le haut du dos et les épaules restent immobiles.

Stacylynne fit une démonstration au ralenti, et Abi et Violet finirent par y arriver aussi.

⸻ Génial ! Et maintenant : plus vite… Et plus vite… Et plus vite encore…

Stacylynne accéléra de plus en plus, se transformant en véritable reine du twerk, tandis que Violet la regardait, bouche bée, et qu’Abi continuait d’essayer de suivre, mais sans grand succès…

⸻ C’est bien, Abi ! Continue ! Secoue-moi ce cul ! s’exclama Stacylynne, les yeux rivés sur ma sœur, tout en continuant de twerker à la perfection.

Violet et moi l’encouragions également, mais je ne pouvais m’empêcher de rire. Je décidai d’immortaliser la scène avec mon téléphone, au cas où… Avec Abi, le chantage fonctionnait toujours très bien !

Mais, très vite, elle éclata de rire et se redressa, abandonnant la danse.

⸻ Merci beaucoup, Stacylynne. C’est finalement moins difficile que ce que j’imaginais.

⸻ Je t’en prie !

⸻ Et… Je voulais te demander…, ajouta Abi.

Je m’attendis au pire.

⸻ Est-ce que tu crois qu’il serait possible que tu prennes ma sœur avec toi devant pour au moins une chanson ? J’adorerais la voir faire sa petite patronne, ajouta-t-elle en me regardant d’un air machiavélique.

⸻ Ah non, non ! Hors de question ! m’empressai-je de répondre à la place de Stacylynne.

⸻ Moi je trouve que c’est une excellente idée, au contraire, me dit Stacylynne en me tirant par la main. Tu es l’une des meilleures du cours ; t’es devenue sacrément douée, tu sais… Tu seras un excellent exemple pour celles qui peuvent parfois se décourager.

J’appréciai le compliment, mais je ne me voyais pas du tout être la cible de tous les regards.

Ange sur l’épaule droite : Mais si, tu peux le faire, tu vas très bien t’en sortir…

Diable sur l’épaule gauche : T’es folle ou quoi ? Tu vas être ridicule ; tout le monde va se foutre de ta gueule…

Cette fois, je décidai d’écouter l’ange.

⸻ D’accord.

Putain… Qu’est-ce que je viens de faire ?

Je jetai un regard noir à Abi… J’étais contente d’avoir fait ma petite vidéo : je tenais ma revanche. Elle me sourit, visiblement heureuse de son coup, et agita son téléphone, me faisant comprendre que ma vidéo n’allait pas me servir à grand-chose car elle allait me filmer à son tour. Je ne pus m’empêcher de sourire en retour. Finalement, c’était de bonne guerre. Et je dois dire que je me laissais prendre au jeu.

⸻ On peut mettre le morceau de salsa que j’adore ? Celui de Gente de Zona ?

⸻ Super idée ! s’enthousiasma Stacylynne. Mais fais gaffe, il dure presque la moitié du cours… Il va falloir assurer, ma belle !

Abi, Violet et moi allâmes poser nos serviettes et nos bouteilles d’eau sur les bancs installés le long du mur.

⸻ Vous vous sentez prête ? leur demandai-je.

⸻ Bien sûr. Et puis, nous avons une super prof ! me répondit Abi.

⸻ Les filles, je crois que j’ai besoin d’aller pisser… Je reviens tout de suite ! lança Violet en se précipitant vers les toilettes.

⸻ Au fait, tu te souviens que Kaede et moi partons pour Charlotte cet après-midi ? Tu es toujours d’accord pour venir arroser nos plantes ?

Elle me fit un sourire de sorcière.

⸻ Ça va dépendre de ta prestation de tout à l’heure.

Mais je savais comment la manipuler.

⸻ D’accord… De toute façon, ce n’est pas pour moi. Je trouvais juste dommage que ce malheureux ficus, qui n’a rien demandé à personne, meure de déshydratation…

⸻ Bon ça va, n’en fais pas trop. Je vais y aller !

C’était toujours moi qui gagnais !

Chapitre 2

Kaede

⸻ Quel est le programme ? me demanda Courtney en déposant notre valise commune dans le placard de la chambre d’hôtel.

Le fait qu’elle n’ait aucune idée de ce qui était prévu confirmait à quel point elle m’aimait. Ce voyage était pour mes affaires, et elle avait tenu à m’accompagner sans même savoir ce qui l’attendait.

J’enroulai mes bras autour de sa taille, et balayai ses cheveux sur le côté pour l’embrasser et lui mordiller le cou.

⸻ Eh bien, ça devait être une surprise, murmurai-je à son oreille, mais je sais à quel point tu détestes ça.

Elle ferma les yeux et pencha la tête en arrière pour que je continue de l’embrasser.

⸻ C’est vrai, mais pas les tiennes… J’adore tes surprises.

⸻ Tu veux que je te le dise quand même ?

⸻ Mmm… pourquoi pas, gémit-elle.

Elle mordit sa lèvre inférieure, s’abandonnant totalement à moi. J’aimais sentir qu’elle me faisait confiance, qu’elle aimait que je la surprenne.

Je cédai, impatient de lui annoncer. J’avais gardé le secret depuis des semaines, et je ne pouvais plus me retenir.

⸻ Ce soir… nous allons faire l’amour, puis je nous ferai livrer le dîner dans la chambre, et nous nous coucherons tôt, vers dix heures, car demain… nous devons nous réveiller tôt, lui annonçai-je en déposant des baisers sur son épaule nue et baissant la bretelle de son débardeur.

⸻ Aïe… Tôt ? C’est-à-dire… dix heures ? demanda-t-elle pour me faire comprendre qu’elle aurait préféré dormir.

Mais je savais que ce n’était pas vrai. Elle allait se réveiller à sept heures, comme toujours, quelle que soit l’heure à laquelle nous allions nous coucher.

⸻ Un peu plus tôt, mais je te promets que c’est pour la bonne cause…

Elle se retourna et passa ses bras autour de mon cou, se blottissant contre moi.

⸻ Je t’écoute. Mais la cause a intérêt à être très bonne pour me faire quitter tes bras.

⸻ Je relève le défi. Tu sais que, demain, je dois aller à la salle toute la journée…

Je devais en effet superviser l’installation de nouvelles machines. Depuis que nous avions ouvert le One Life de Charlotte, la salle connaissait un franc succès, et nous avions dû recruter de nouveaux coachs, et il était désormais nécessaire de multiplier notre capacité d’accueil.

⸻ Ah, donc tu dois te lever tôt, me taquina-t-elle. Moi je pourrai me prélasser au lit quelques heures de plus, avant d’aller faire un peu de tourisme.

Elle me regardait avec un sourire taquin qui me donnait envie de l’embrasser.

⸻ La seule chose à faire à Charlotte, c’est One Life Gym. Tu ne savais pas ? lui dis-je en posant sur elle le regard qui, m’avait-elle dit, la rendait dingue.

⸻ Si c’est une manière de me demander d’aller travailler avec toi, je vais finir par croire que tu n’arrives plus à te passer de moi…, murmura-t-elle en m’embrassant et se serrant davantage contre moi.

⸻ Je crois que, en effet, j’ai un peu de mal avec l’idée de te savoir loin de moi.

⸻ Mais qu’est-ce que je ferai ? Je ne vais quand même pas te regarder travailler sans rien faire, même si le canapé en cuir de ton bureau est très confortable… Je risque de m’ennuyer !

Je la regardai en levant un sourcil.

⸻ C’est justement là qu’intervient ma surprise. Tu veux que je te dise ce que c’est ?

Elle hocha la tête, les yeux emplis de curiosité et de plaisir.

⸻ Je t’ai réservé une journée complète au spa de One Life demain. Massage, soin du visage, manucure, coupe de cheveux et brushing.

Nous avions eu l’idée d’ajouter un spa à la salle de Charlotte, et c’était une option qui marchait très bien. Nous avions déjà de nombreux retours très élogieux de la part des membres, et le planning des réservations était complet presque tous les jours.

Bouche bée, elle me regarda avec les larmes aux yeux.

⸻ Tu as fait ça pour moi ? murmura-t-elle.

⸻ Absolument, et j’ai déjà prévenu Isabella que tes pieds étaient particulièrement chatouilleux et qu’elle devait s’attendre à ce que tu gigotes dans tous les sens…

Elle rit puis m’embrassa tendrement, tandis que je la portais et la conduisais jusqu’au lit. Je l’allongeai et lui retirai son débardeur. Elle n’avait plus que son soutien-gorge en dentelle grise sur lequel tombaient ses longs cheveux. Elle passa ses mains dans son dos et défit son soutien-gorge, découvrant ses seins satinés et ronds. Je les pris dans mes mains et l’embrassai férocement, avant de prendre ses tétons dans ma bouche, l’un après l’autre.

Je retirai mon tee-shirt, puis le jean de Court, et glissai doucement mes mains sur ses cuisses jusqu’à sa culotte. Passant mes doigts sous l’élastique, je caressai sa vulve déjà trempée, et introduisis un doigt, puis deux, à l’intérieur. J’allai d’abord doucement, puis de plus en plus vite, jusqu’à ce qu’elle se torde de plaisir.

⸻ Continue…, gémit-elle.

Poussant la dentelle sur le côté, je passai doucement ma langue autour de son clitoris. Elle glissa ses mains dans mes cheveux, et les resserra sur moi, frissonnante, comme pour me garder contre elle. Elle n’en avait pas besoin : l’intérieur de ses cuisses était l’endroit que je préférais au monde…

⸻ Tu es tellement bonne, chérie, murmurai-je, avant de la lécher à nouveau et d’enfoncer mes doigts plus profondément en elle.

Elle se mit à gémir plus fort. Tout son corps se raidit et, le menton légèrement levé, la bouche ouverte dans un cri silencieux, son jus recouvrit ma langue, mon menton, et ma main, jusqu’à ce qu’elle jouisse en criant mon nom.

Je continuai de la lécher, de me noyer en elle, mais elle me repoussa légèrement, son clitoris étant trop sensible. J’écartai alors ses cuisses en grand, poussai davantage sa culotte, et admirai le spectacle de son sexe palpitant.

Lorsque, enfin, elle reprit ses esprits, elle s’agenouilla devant moi, baissa mon jean et mon caleçon et prit mon sexe dans sa bouche.

⸻ Putain, Court, soufflai-je.

Je rassemblai ses cheveux en une queue de cheval que je serrai dans mon poing pour pouvoir la regarder me prendre jusqu’au fond de sa gorge. Je n’aurais su dire, à ce moment-là, si je préférais son vagin ou sa bouche – tout ce que je savais, c’était que j’adorais ce qu’elle était en train de me faire. J’avais l’impression d’être au paradis.

Les joues creusées, elle montait et descendait sur ma verge, faisant glisser délicatement sa langue en même temps. La vue de sa bouche autour de moi, de son dos cambré, et de ses fesses rondes, ajoutait à mon excitation et je sentais que je n’allais pas tarder à venir.

⸻ Arrête ! lui dis-je.

Mais elle continua, comme incapable de se détacher de moi, autant que j’étais incapable de me détacher d’elle. Pourtant, je dus mettre ma main autour de ma queue pour l’empêcher de continuer et ne pas jouir en elle.

Elle s’allongea alors sur le dos, puis je finis de retirer mon jean et mon caleçon et rampai sur elle, la pénétrant instantanément. Le temps sembla alors se suspendre, comme si nous étions dans une autre dimension – celle d’un plaisir fusionnel.

⸻ J’adore sentir ta queue, gémit-elle.

Elle enroula ses chevilles autour de mes jambes, et serra ses mains autour de mes biceps pour mieux relever les hanches vers moi et me sentir plus profondément en elle. Nous allions et venions en rythme, et je sentais ses muscles internes contractés autour de ma queue, de plus en plus dure, tandis que nous nous regardions dans les yeux.

Je plaçai l’une de ses jambes sur mon épaule pour l’ouvrir davantage, et la baiser plus fort encore. Des gouttes de sueur perlaient sur nos fronts, collant les cheveux de Court sur son visage.

Elle posa son autre jambe sur mon épaule, et je m’assis sur mes talons pour libérer mes mains et attraper son cul, le serrant fermement pour la faire aller et venir le long de ma verge tandis que je la prenais de plus en plus fort.

⸻ Viens, chérie. Viens avec moi…

Elle posa ses doigts sur son clitoris et se caressa, puis jouit en un instant.

⸻ Je viens, cria-t-elle. Je t’aime…

Ses mots me firent venir également, rapidement, et je sentis un orgasme me traverser tout entier, tandis que je répandais mon sperme en abondance au fond de son corps, en rugissant.

Nous surfâmes ensemble sur la vague du plaisir, dans un état d’extase absolue, puis je m’effondrai sur elle, ses jambes glissant le long de mon corps. Nous haletions, ma tête enfouie dans son cou et ses bras serrés autour de moi.

⸻ Faire l’amour : fait ! murmurai-je en relevant la tête et en la regardant avec un sourire.

Elle rit, puis me poussa sur le dos et me chevaucha, humide et transpirante, et se mit à me chatouiller – sachant parfaitement les endroits où j’étais le plus sensible.

⸻ Je ne suis pas une tâche sur une liste ! s’exclama-t-elle en riant.

⸻ Tu n’avais pas l’air de t’en plaindre il y a une minute, lui dis-je en attrapant ses mains pour l’empêcher de continuer. D’ailleurs, tu sais quoi ? Je crois que je vais recommencer pour être sûr que ce soit bien fait.

Elle gloussa et, récupérant ses mains, elle se remit à me chatouiller, tandis que je me défendais, dans un mélange de cris, de rire, et de joie – à l’image du couple que nous formions.

Nous prîmes une douche, dînâmes dans la chambre, et nous couchâmes tôt.

Je n’avais pas encore parlé à Court du dîner que j’avais prévu après sa journée au spa.

C’était une autre surprise… que je gardai secrète, cette fois.

Si vous avez envie de revoir ces deux personnages et le reste de la bande, ne manquez pas de lire les deux autres tomes, Mon mariage chic en toc (Violet & Ross) et Lune de miel chic en toc (Abigail & Lorenzo). Lisez la suite pour un aperçu de l’histoire de Abi & Lorenzo !

“It’s… a frog.” Abi says in shock.

I nod, grinning around the rim of my glass of iced tea as Abi and Courtney finish their ‘inspection tour’ of the ‘new’ penthouse. It’s not all that new, I’ve only added a few touches here and there. But it did mean bringing in some workers, which meant for the past week, Ross and I have been crashing at the family mansion, using his old bedroom and trying not to get underfoot too much.

I didn’t mind being squeezed in next to him, but it’s even better to be home. To our home.

Abi’s confused at some of my décor choices, and I guess I have to explain. But not yet because it’s too fun to tease her. As if talking to a child, I tell her, “Very good, Abs. It is a frog.”

Courtney looks from Abi to me, then back to Abi. “What’s wrong with frogs? I mean, they’re not cute, but… it’s just a candy dish. I think.”

“You’ve never told her?” I ask Abi, wide-eyed. “You never told Court the frog story?”

“Nope,” Abi huffs, plopping down on the newer, decidedly fluffier, and much more comfortable couch. “That’s your job… Colonel.”

“Ooh, I’m going to get you for that one!” I growl before laughing. It’s all in the past, and as I tell Courtney the story of me and Ross and the biology frog, she pales until I laugh at the end. “So I decided, just as a reminder of the stupid times, that I was going to put a frog in the house. It took me a long-damned time to find just the right one.”

Courtney smiles and shakes her head. “You two are made for each other, that’s all I can say at this point. And I do like the changes. Softens some of Ross’ hard edges.”

“I like his hardness, thank you very much,” I quip, and Courtney starts making gagging noises. Abi and I laugh, she’s got very little shame in it all and knows that her big brother and I have been bouncing headboards against the walls at every opportunity to make up for lost time.

“On a safer topic, how’s work?” Abi finally asks, saving her sister. “You did Bitch-ella’s ballroom, then the dining room… what’re you doing for her now?”

“The bedroom,” I reply with a grin. “Believe it or not, Archie talked her into spicing it up, saying it’d help her with her circulation. And he wasn’t talking about her bloodflow, if you know what I mean, but somehow the ice queen actually blushed and went along with the idea of modern femininity with burgundy, red, and blush. I swear, if he wanted, he could’ve charmed her into being his sugar momma.”

“Wait… she knows he’s into men, right?”

“Hmph, not only does she know, she mentioned she has a grand-nephew who’d think Arch is, and I quote, ‘the bee’s knees.’ She even hooked them up with dinner reservations at Chez Pontchartrain, and you know how hard it is to get a table there. I told Arch to have fun, and gave him the weekend off after extracting a promise to share his own dirty details when he gets back,” I reply, grinning. “I figure it’ll go one of two ways. Either he’s going to roll into work right at eight AM Monday morning with a sour puss face…”

“Or you don’t see him until Tuesday afternoon and he comes in smiling ear to ear!” Abi finishes, laughing her head off. “Girl, I swear for a woman who just got married and is getting all her wishes fulfilled, you sure do like to make sure you’re spreading that lovin’ feeling around!”

I lean back, sipping my tea again. “Yeah well… so what?” I challenge them, grinning. “Archie’s been my left hand of madness for a couple of years now, and if he finds a nice guy, I’m happy for him. All I wanna know now is, which one of you two’s next?”

“Wait, what?” Courtney asks, her nose crinkled in confusion as she comes from the kitchen with her own glass of tea. “What do you mean, who’s next?”

“Oh come off it, Court!” Abi chides her sister. “Mrs. Stuffed Muffin over there obviously wants us to join her in the Wedded Bliss Club. Probably already has plans to pop out a few bundles of joy at the same time you do.”

“Me?” Courtney asks, trying not to choke on her drink. “Why’s it gotta be me? I’m still kicking like a damn duck at work trying to fill in the big fuckin’ shoes Ross left behind. I don’t have time for a man! And you’re older. You need to be the sacrificial lamb before throwing me under the bus.”

Before Courtney can object further, the door to the penthouse opens, and Ross and Kaede come in, laughing. “So anyway, the guy says ‘I should charge you three times as much, knowing who you work with. You’re going to be making that back in profit in six months anyway!’”

Ross laughs. “And what did you say?”

“I simply reminded him my boss is a righteous bastard who likes to beat people up in public, and treats his employees even worse,” Kaede deadpans, seeing me and giving the three of us a huge wink. “Right, ladies?”

“Absolute truth, that’s why we call you ‘Hook Andrews’,” I joke, getting up and letting Ross pull me into an embrace. “Isn’t that right, babe? You bring the lightning, I bring the thunder?”

“Is that what you’re calling your rolling pin now?” Ross teases, kissing me before I can open my smart mouth to spar back. As always, his lips take my breath away, and I know that Abi’s right. I want to spread the joy, the happiness, the love.

“So how was the office shopping?” Abi asks after Ross lets me go, a triumphant smile stretching her berry-painted lips.

I’m glad, because right now I can’t really speak, and if I don’t get distracted, I’m going to haul him down the hallway to the bedroom before too much longer. Guests be damned because I know they’ll understand. I know we’re married now, but the more I have of him, the more I want. And I haven’t had nearly enough while we were staying at his parent’s place.

“Not bad,” Ross says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He’s in his element with all the business opportunities laid out in front of him like a buffet, just waiting on him to pick and choose where he wants to invest his time and his money. “We checked out a place over on Rosemont today… it’s a little big for a two-man operation, but if we take it, we’ll have plenty of room to expand. There’d even be space for project work and more. Maybe Vi and Archie could move their office on-site so we could carpool?”

I swear I hear the collective eye roll from both sisters and Kaede, but that does sound like a great idea.

“What are you guys thinking of doing?” Abi asks. “And if you’re carpooling and stuff, I assume you’re planning on keeping it all in the family? Violet doing the interior design and me doing your new business cards and marketing materials? It’s not my wheelhouse, but I’ll give you a family rate.”

“Of course… but just to be clear, is that family rate higher or lower than your usual fees?” He smiles that cocky grin and Abi shrugs noncommittedly, smirking right back. “We haven’t quite decided yet,” Ross admits. “K-dawg had an interesting proposal today. Kaede, want to fill everyone in?”

Kaede, who’s gone to the kitchen to grab a bottle of sparkling water out of the fridge, guzzling a bit before answering. “Home fitness. Talked to a guy who’s looking for business partners. He has a mirror that connects to an online workout program library. You exercise with the instructor in real-time, following along in the privacy of your own home. It’s got algorithms and coding to make it a personalized, custom experience. Very cutting edge and luxury minded. And sexy.”

“I told Kaede he could be our website model,” Ross announces. “I project that a shirtless Kaede would have us breaking a million dollars in sales inside six months. Probably have to go all out though, really commit to it, man. Shirtless, sweaty and chugging water so it drips down your chin. Hell, go all in and run a hand across your abs as you bite your lip. We’ll play Ginuwine’s Pony in the background, but on violins so it’s classy as fuck.”

Before we can laugh, Courtney chooses that moment to lose her grip on her glass and it tumbles to the floor, thankfully not shattering as it hits the plush rug, but still spilling a little bit of tea. “Oh god… sorry guys, I’ll wipe it up!”

Kaede’s faster, and I swear Court blushes to the roots of her hair when he hands her one of the kitchen towels. He’s got another in his hand and he drops at her feet to blot at the stain. Courtney looks down at Kaede and I swear I see her shudder ever so slightly before bending down next to him to help. “Thanks.”

He glances up, a soft smile playing at his lips. “We can do it together so there’s no mess.”

I glance over at Abi and Ross, both of whom are wearing matching amused expressions. Feeling a little sorry for Courtney, I clear my throat. I mean, spread the love, but not too thick. “Well if you do decide to invest, I think you should be the website model, although nobody’s going to believe it’s not photoshopped,” I tell Ross, taking his hand and squeezing it in an attempt to tell him to back off Court, but one of his eyebrows rises and I know he’s not done.

“Kaede would have more fun with it in some skin-tight workout shorts, really show off his bulge and those V-lines that make girls stupid,” Ross replies, chuckling silently as, from her spot on the floor, Courtney’s fingers tremble and she drops her glass again. Finally, she leaps to her feet with both hands wrapped around the tumbler and half walks, half runs to the kitchen to put it in the dishwasher, avoiding looking at anyone as she does. Still it’s hard to miss just how flaming pink her cheeks are becoming.

Ross’ grin is just this side of shit-eating as Kaede keeps his head down and blots up the rest of the spilled tea. “Why are you torturing your sister?” I whisper in his ear. “And your best friend?”

“Because she needs a nudge… both of them do,” Ross says, cutting his eyes over to Abi who nods as she reads his lips. “Besides, it’s fun to watch.”

Abi whispers quietly, “Scheming meeting, you and me, brother. Round one worked pretty well.” She pats herself on the back, implying that she’s ready to tackle round two. There’s a small part of me that feels bad for Court because I know what it feels like to have everything be out of your control, but Abi has a point. It did work out for Ross and I, so maybe Kaede and Court will have the same happily ever after results.

Courtney comes back to her seat, sitting down and clearing her throat. She looks stiff and proper, like this is a board meeting where she’s going to be reamed out, not a casual family dinner at her brother’s house. Kaede drops off his towel in the sink and then stays in the kitchen, sitting on a bar stool in front of the big island. His posture is relaxed, but his jaw his tight. Kaede and Courtney pointedly do make eye contact, though Abi and Ross are having a prolonged silent conversation between the two of them.

“I don’t know, Ross,” Abi says, sensing that we’ve needled Courtney and Kaede enough. “No offense K, but gym equipment’s a pretty crowded market. Any other ideas?”

“None as promising, but we’re kicking around a few,” Ross confirms. “Your standard financial stuff, venture capital mostly. We’ve got the connections, but I want to make sure we don’t step on Dad’s toes. I think… well, I think I’ve done enough of that. So anything that’s related to the family business is off limits unless he gives me the all clear. And I want to be sure that whatever we do, it’s something we truly believe in and are doing as a passion project. I want to dig in and really investigate the ideas fully because someone once told me I can be a dumbass and I don’t want to risk that happening again. Careful and considered, that’s the idea.”

“That’s good,” Courtney says, finding her smile again at the reminder of both sisters telling Ross to pull his head out of his ass, a story I greatly enjoy hearing again and again. “I’d hate to embarrass my big brother by beating him on a deal.”

“Sooo… What’s the deal with dinner? Do we have reservations somewhere?” Kaede asks from his barstool, pulling everyone back into our plan for the evening. I gotta admit, as sexy as Ross is, Kaede does sort of have that fitness model look going for him with his leg stretched out and his dark, surfer boy hair flopping over his left eye. Courtney could do a hell of a lot worse.

“How about The Cuban Kitchen?” Abi says. “They’ve got good food, and there’s that new club nearby. Fill our bellies, then get our grooves on?”

Ross meets my eye and I give him the smallest increment of a nod. “Sorry guys, we’re out tonight. Maybe another time?” Though he apologizes, he’s obviously not repentant in the least

“You’ve got to go, I need a wingman!” Kaede protests. Still, he looks over at Courtney, and I can almost read his mind as he decides that maybe not having Ross along would work in his favor. Yup, Abi’s scheming again, but at least part of Kaede wants to go along with it.

“Psh,” Abi says, standing up and grabbing Courtney by the wrist with one hand and Kaede with the other. “You’ve got me. I’ll make sure both of you stay nice and safe. Don’t you trust me?”

“Do I have to answer?” Courtney groans as she half stumbles from Abi’s forced guidance.

Abi lets go of Kaede to physically shove Court towards the door. “Girl, you might not trust me to watch that badonkadonk on the dance floor, but you can trust that if we’re not out of here in three seconds, we’re going to see a side of our brother and sister-in-law that we don’t want to witness first hand.”

Even without Abi dragging him, Kaede follows with a bemused look on his face, stopping at the door to look back at us as the girls disappear down the hall. “I know what you and Abi are doing, Ross. It’s not going to work.”

That surprises me, although Ross just chuckles.

“What’s not going to work?” Ross asks with a falsely innocent look on his face. “And even if Abi is up to something, I’m certainly not a part of any crazy scheme she’d concoct.”

Kaede rolls his eyes, and adjusts his shirt collar. “That bullshit about the website model? Nice try, dipshit.” He throws some visual daggers towards Ross, but the corners of his mouth are fighting to lift in a smile. After just a couple of seconds, he admits defeat, for this round. “Fucker. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The door closes behind Kaede, leaving just Ross and I in silence. Ross props his feet up on our new ottoman and leans back, rubbing at his temples. “Those three… I thought they’d never leave.”

“Come on now,” I tease, cuddling up against my husband. “You love them. And you are scheming too, you know.”

“Not really, just fucking with him,” Ross admits, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and holding me close. “But I know what Abi’s doing, she loves playing romantic chess, you know. We’re all just pawns in her little game.”

“Duh… she schemed us together,” I remind him as I lay my legs over his. Ross hums, his hand rubbing up and down my thigh, inching my skirt higher as I press closer to him. “Or have you forgotten?”

“How could I?” Ross asks, giving up on ‘cuddling’ and pulling me fully into his lap to straddle his hips with my knees. “She definitely got it right that time. I’m just not sure why K-Dawg’s holding back because I know he’s got a soft spot for Court. Maybe he thinks she’s off-limits as my little sister? Should I say something?” he asks me.

And while I appreciate that he wants to see his sister and friend as happy as we are, that’s a discussion we can have later, because right now, I’m starving… for him. I run my fingers through Ross’ hair. He’s been growing it out some since our honeymoon, and while it’s just a little long now, it’s a very sexy shaggy, just right for me to grip.

“Leave it to Abi,” I tease, grinding my hips down on the very nice, hard bulge growing in his pants. He teases up under my flowy skirt, gripping my ass through the satin of my panties, and an electric tremble runs through me. “We have other matters to discuss.” The glint in my eyes tells him loud and clear that it’s not his words I’m after.

Ross flashes that cocky grin that I love as I lean down, kissing him this time as we grind against each other, the heat between us quickly building. I rub my breasts over his hard chest, the two of us moving faster and harder as he guides me, pulling us together and making me curse the separation of our clothing.

Ross grips me tightly, making short thrusts that bump over my clit and I’m right on the edge when suddenly the apartment door opens and a voice that chills me calls out. “Honey, I was in neighborhood and… oh!”

“Hi Mom,” Ross says on a growl as I pull back in absolute shock, immediately grateful that I still have my clothes on now, though I was just cursing them. I try to get off of his lap, but Ross’ hands clamp down around my waist, wedging his thick bulge against my panties even harder, making me bite down on my gasp as he raises a pointed brow that tells me not to move. “Uhm, bad timing.”

“S… sorry,” Mrs. Andrews says, still a little off balance. “I didn’t, I mean-”

“Mom?” Ross interrupts, his voice firm. “Remember how you want grandkids? You’re kinda interrupting that process, you know?”

“Right… oh, right!” Mrs. Andrews says, blushing even more. “Well, I’ll call you later. Better yet, you call me… uhm, yeah, uhm… bye!”

She stumbles out, closing the door behind her and I turn to Ross, who’s trying not to laugh. “We really should get our key back.”

Ross shrugs, his hands squeezing my ass again. “Something tells me she’ll knock next time. For now… where were we?”

Instead of answering I lean down and kiss him again, letting my tongue give him all the answers needed. Ross moans, pulling me close to him as I roll my hips over his once again fully hard bulge.

His words are hot against my neck, “Know what I want to do to you tonight?”

My head falls back, giving him more access to nibble along the skin where it curves into my shoulder. “What?” I murmur, lost in the path his lips are taking against my skin.

“I want to spread you out on our bed, lick you until you scream and beg for more. And then I’m going to use that new toy we got. I’m gonna fill you with that big… fat… fake… cock and make you come all over it.” I whimper at the sexy image he’s creating in my mind, ready to make a run for the bedroom. “And then I’m going to fuck you myself and see which you prefer.”

I bring my eyes to his, fighting to focus and love the arrogance on his face. He already knows the answer. So do I.

“I want the real thing. Always the real thing with you,” I plea.

“I know,” he breathes. “But I think you like a little teasing, don’t you, Chickie?”

Heat blooms low in my belly. He rarely calls me by that nickname about my chicken legs anymore, and now, when he does, it’s always with the promise of pleasure I’ve only dreamed of. I think he’s paying penance for all those years of torment, though it’s unneeded and all forgiven. But not forgotten because I wouldn’t trade how we got here for anything, even if it did take a big, fat, fake wedding to fall in love for real and turn my frenemy into my one true love.

Thank you for reading! If you’re looking for what to read next of mine, check out my brand new book that released December 28th, Rough Love. Read on for a sample!

Violet

— C’est… une grenouille, souffle Abi, en état de choc.

Je hoche la tête, souriant sur le bord de mon verre de thé glacé, alors qu’Abi et Courtney terminent leur visite du « nouvel appartement ». Il n’est pas si nouveau que ça, j’ai seulement ajouté quelques touches çà et là. Mais il a fallu faire venir des entrepreneurs. Depuis une semaine, Ross et moi séjournons dans la maison familiale, utilisant son ancienne chambre en essayant de nous faire tout petits.

J’ai apprécié de me serrer contre lui dans son lit d’adolescent, mais c’est encore mieux d’être à la maison. Chez nous.

Abi reste perplexe devant certains de mes choix décoratifs et je comprends que je lui dois quelques explications. Mais pas encore. Je m’amuse trop à la taquiner. Comme si je parlais à un enfant, je lui dis :

— C’est bien, Abs. C’est une grenouille.

Le regard de Courtney alterne entre Abi et moi.

— C’est quoi, le problème avec les grenouilles ? Enfin, ce n’est pas super beau comme animal, mais là… c’est juste un saladier pour mettre des bonbons. Enfin, je pense.

— Tu ne le lui as jamais dit ? demandé-je à Abi, les yeux grands ouverts. Tu n’as jamais raconté à Court l’histoire de la grenouille ?

— Non, s’exclame Abi en s’asseyant sur le nouveau canapé, nettement plus moelleux et plus confortable que l’ancien. C’est à toi de le faire… Colonel KFC.

— Oh, celle-là, tu vas me la payer ! me récrié-je avant de rire.

C’est du passé, et quand je raconte à Courtney l’histoire de Ross et de la grenouille du labo de bio, elle blêmit jusqu’à ce que je la rassure en riant.

— Alors j’ai décidé, histoire de me rappeler cette époque un peu bête, que j’allais mettre une grenouille dans la maison. Il m’a fallu un temps fou pour trouver la bonne.

Courtney sourit en secouant la tête.

— Vous êtes vraiment faits l’un pour l’autre, c’est tout ce que je peux dire pour le moment. Et j’adore ces changements. Ça adoucit un peu le côté abrupt de Ross.

— J’aime ses côtés abrupts, rétorqué-je.

Aussitôt, Courtney fait mine d’avoir un haut-le-cœur. Abi et moi rions aux éclats. Ce n’est pas un sujet qui lui fait honte et elle sait très bien que son grand frère et moi saisissons toutes les occasions pour faire cogner la tête de lit contre le mur et rattraper le temps perdu.

— Pour revenir aux choses sérieuses, comment va le travail ? demande finalement Abi, épargnant plus d’embarras à sa sœur. Tu as rénové la salle de bal de Bitch-ella, puis la salle à manger… et maintenant, qu’est-ce que tu fais ?

— La chambre, dis-je avec un sourire. Croyez-le ou non, Archie l’a convaincue de pimenter un peu la déco, en assurant que ça améliorerait sa circulation. Et il ne parlait pas de sa circulation sanguine, si vous voyez ce que je veux dire. Figurez-vous que la reine des glaces a rougi et qu’elle a fini par donner son accord pour une note de féminité moderne, avec du bordeaux, du rouge et du rose brillant. Je vous jure que s’il voulait, il pourrait facilement devenir son toy-boy.

— Attends… elle sait qu’il aime les hommes, non ?

— Hmm, non seulement elle le sait, mais apparemment, elle a un petit-neveu qui trouve qu’Arch – je cite – « envoie du lourd ». Elle leur a même réservé une table au restaurant Chez Pontchartrain, et vous savez comme c’est difficile d’obtenir une table là-bas. J’ai dit à Arch de s’amuser et je lui ai donné son week-end après lui avoir fait promettre de me raconter tous les détails croustillants à son retour. Je me dis qu’il y a deux possibilités. Soit il se pointe au travail à huit heures du matin lundi avec une tête de chatte aigrie…

— Ou alors, tu ne le vois pas avant mardi après-midi et il arrive avec un sourire jusqu’aux oreilles ! conclut Abi en riant. Ma belle, je te jure que pour une femme qui vient de se marier et qui réalise tous ses rêves, tu sais comment répandre ce sentiment d’amour…

Je me penche en arrière, sirotant à nouveau mon thé.

— Ah oui ? Et donc ? dis-je en souriant, sur un ton de défi. Archie est mon bras droit depuis quelques années maintenant, et s’il trouve un mec sympa, je serai contente pour lui. Tout ce que je veux savoir maintenant, c’est laquelle de vous deux sera la prochaine ?

— Hein, quoi ? demande Courtney en fronçant le nez sans comprendre, alors qu’elle revient de la cuisine avec sa propre tasse de thé. Comment ça, qui est la prochaine ?

— Oh, arrête, Court ! lance Abi en rabrouant sa sœur. Elle est toute confie d’amour et elle veut qu’on la rejoigne au club du bonheur conjugal. Elle a sûrement déjà dans l’idée de pondre ses petits en même temps que toi les tiens.

— Moi ? se récrie Courtney en essayant de ne pas s’étouffer avec sa gorgée. Pourquoi ce serait moi ? Je suis toujours sur tous les fronts au boulot et je cravache pour essayer d’être à la hauteur de Ross. Ce n’est pas facile, croyez-moi. Alors, je n’ai pas de temps pour un homme. Et puis, tu es plus vieille que moi. C’est à toi de te sacrifier au lieu de vouloir m’y coller.

Avant que Courtney ne puisse s’y opposer davantage, la porte de l’appartement s’ouvre, et Ross et Kaede entrent en riant.

— Et là, le type dit : « Je devrais vous faire payer trois fois plus, sachant avec qui vous travaillez. De toute façon, vous allez faire des bénéfices en six mois ! »

Ross rit.

— Et qu’est-ce que tu as répondu ?

— Je lui ai simplement rappelé que mon patron était un vrai tortionnaire, qui ne ménage pas les gens en public et qui traite ses employés encore plus mal, rétorque Kaede.

En nous voyant, toutes les trois, il nous fait un clin d’œil et lance :

— N’est-ce pas, mesdames ?

— C’est la vérité absolue, c’est pour ça qu’on t’appelle « le bourreau », plaisanté-je en me levant pour laisser Ross me prendre dans ses bras. C’est pas vrai, bébé ? Toi, tu apportes la foudre, et moi le tonnerre ?

— C’est comme ça que tu appelles ton rouleau à pâtisserie maintenant ? me taquine Ross en m’embrassant sans me laisser le temps d’ouvrir la bouche pour répliquer.

Comme toujours, son baiser me coupe le souffle, et je sais qu’Abi a raison. J’ai envie de répandre la joie, le bonheur et l’amour.

— Alors, comment s’est passée votre recherche de locaux ? demande Abi, un sourire sur ses lèvres écarlates, une fois que Ross m’a relâchée.

Je m’en réjouis, parce qu’en ce moment, je ne peux pas vraiment parler. Si nous étions seuls, je l’entraînerais dans le couloir jusqu’à la chambre sans plus attendre. Et après tout, au diable nos invités, je sais qu’ils comprendraient. Nous sommes mariés maintenant, mais avec lui, plus j’en ai et plus j’en veux. Et je n’en ai pas eu assez quand nous étions chez ses parents.

— Pas mal, dit Ross, ses yeux pétillant d’excitation.

Il est dans son élément, en ce moment, avec toutes les pistes qui s’offrent à lui comme un buffet, n’attendant que lui pour choisir où il veut investir son temps et son argent.

— Nous avons visité des locaux à Rosemont aujourd’hui… c’est un peu grand pour deux, mais au moins, on aura beaucoup de place pour s’agrandir. Il y aurait même de la place pour travailler sur d’autres projets. Peut-être que Vi et Archie pourraient y installer leurs bureaux, ça nous permettrait de faire du covoiturage.

Je peux voir les deux sœurs et Kaede lever les yeux au ciel, mais ça me semble être une excellente idée.

— Qu’est-ce que vous pensez faire ? demande Abi. Oh, alors si vous faites du covoiturage et tout ça, je suppose que ça restera un truc familial ? Violet s’occupera de la décoration et moi de vos nouvelles cartes de visite et de vos supports marketing ? Ce n’est pas mon domaine, mais je te ferai un tarif familial.

— Bien sûr… enfin que les choses soient claires, est-ce que ce tarif familial est supérieur ou inférieur à tes tarifs habituels ?

Il affiche son éternel sourire arrogant et Abi hausse les épaules d’un air détaché, souriant en retour.

— Nous n’avons pas encore décidé, admet Ross. Le Caïd a eu une proposition intéressante aujourd’hui. Kaede, tu veux mettre tout le monde au courant ?

Kaede, qui est allé chercher une bouteille d’eau gazeuse dans le frigo, prend quelques gorgées avant de répondre.

— Fitness à domicile. J’ai parlé à un type qui cherche des partenaires commerciaux. C’est un miroir qui se connecte à une bibliothèque de programmes d’entraînement en ligne. On s’exerce avec l’instructeur en temps réel, tout en suivant son entraînement dans l’intimité de chez soi. Il y a des algorithmes et du codage pour en faire une expérience personnalisée et sur mesure. C’est très avant-gardiste et haut de gamme. Sexy, aussi.

— J’ai dit à Kaede qu’il pourrait être notre modèle sur le site web, annonce Ross. Je suis sûr qu’un Kaede torse nu nous ferait atteindre le million de dollars de ventes en six mois. Mais il faudra tout donner, s’engager à fond. Sans chemise, en sueur et avec de l’eau qui coule sur ton menton. Il faut que tu te passes la main sur les abdos en te mordant la lèvre, aussi. On passera Pony de Ginuwine en fond, mais au violon, pour que ce soit plus classe.

Avant que nous puissions éclater de rire, Courtney choisit ce moment pour perdre sa prise sur sa tasse, qui dégringole par terre. Heureusement, elle ne se casse pas en atterrissant sur le tapis moelleux, mais un peu de thé se renverse.

— Oh, mon dieu… je suis vraiment désolée, je vais tout essuyer !

Kaede est plus rapide, et je jurerais voir Court rougir jusqu’à la racine des cheveux quand il lui tend l’un des torchons de cuisine. Il en a un autre dans sa main et il se met à genoux pour effacer la tache. Courtney regarde Kaede et j’ai l’impression qu’elle frissonne avant de se pencher à côté de lui pour l’aider.

— Merci.

Il lève les yeux, un doux sourire aux lèvres.

— Autant le faire ensemble pour limiter les dégâts.

Je regarde Abi et Ross, qui arborent tous deux des mines amusées. Un peu gênée pour Courtney, je me racle la gorge. Répandre l’amour, d’accord, mais pas tous azimuts.

— Si vous décidez d’investir, ce serait une bonne idée que tu sois le modèle du site web, même si tout le monde va croire que c’est photoshopé, dis-je à Ross en lui prenant la main, la serrant pour lui faire comprendre qu’il doit laisser Courtney, mais il hausse un sourcil et je sais qu’il n’a pas fini.

— Kaede, ce serait mieux, avec un short moulant qui révélerait ton paquet et ces lignes en V qui rendent dingues les filles, répond Ross, riant tout bas alors que, près du sol, les doigts de Courtney tremblent et qu’elle lâche à nouveau sa tasse.

Enfin, elle se lève d’un bond, les deux mains bien serrées autour de la tasse, et détale vers la cuisine pour la mettre dans le lave-vaisselle, évitant de croiser nos regards. Pourtant, difficile de ne pas voir la teinte rose vif qu’ont prise ses joues.

Ross affiche un grand sourire machiavélique, alors que Kaede, la tête toujours baissée, tamponne le reste du thé avec son torchon.

— Pourquoi tu tortures ta sœur ? lui chuchoté-je à l’oreille. Et ton meilleur ami ?

— Parce qu’elle a besoin d’un coup de pouce… tous les deux en ont besoin, répond Ross en regardant Abi, qui hoche la tête en lisant sur ses lèvres. En plus, c’est amusant à regarder.

Abi ajoute tout aussi bas :

— Réunion de complot, toi, moi et mon frère. Le premier round a plutôt bien marché.

Elle lui tape dans le dos, laissant entendre qu’elle est prête à s’attaquer au deuxième round. D’un côté, je me sens mal pour Court, parce que je sais ce qu’on ressent quand tout échappe à son contrôle, mais Abi a raison. Ça a fonctionné à merveille pour Ross et moi, alors peut-être que Kaede et Court auront les mêmes résultats.

Courtney revient s’asseoir en se raclant la gorge. Elle est raide, crispée comme si c’était une réunion du conseil d’administration et non un moment en famille chez son frère. Kaede va déposer sa serviette sur l’évier et reste dans la cuisine, assis sur un tabouret de bar devant le grand îlot. Sa posture est détendue, mais sa mâchoire est contractée. Kaede et Courtney se regardent dans les yeux, tandis qu’Abi et Ross semblent avoir un échange silencieux.

— Je ne sais pas, Ross, dit enfin Abi en sentant que nous avons suffisamment sollicité Courtney et Kaede. Sans vouloir t’offenser, K, les équipements de sport sont un marché assez encombré. D’autres idées ?

— Aucune n’est aussi prometteuse, mais on continue à chercher, confirme Ross. Les trucs financiers habituels, le capital-risque surtout. On a les contacts, mais je veux m’assurer de ne pas marcher sur les plates-bandes de papa. Je pense… eh bien, je pense que j’en ai assez fait. Tout ce qui est lié à l’entreprise familiale est donc interdit, à moins qu’il ne me donne le feu vert. Et je veux être sûr que, quoi qu’on fasse, ce sera quelque chose en quoi on croit vraiment, quelque chose qui nous passionne. Je veux creuser et étudier les idées à fond, parce que quelqu’un m’a dit un jour que je pouvais être un idiot et je ne veux surtout pas que ça se reproduise. Attention et réflexion, voilà le plan.

— C’est bien, dit Courtney, retrouvant son sourire en se rappelant avoir dit à Ross, avec sa sœur, de se sortir la tête du cul, une histoire que je ne me lasse pas d’entendre. Je ne voudrais pas mettre la honte à mon grand frère en le battant sur un marché.

— Alors… Qu’est-ce qu’on fait ce soir ? On a réservé quelque part ? demande Kaede depuis son tabouret de bar, ramenant l’attention générale à nos plans pour la soirée.

Aussi sexy que soit Ross, je dois admettre que Kaede a le look d’un mannequin de fitness, sur son tabouret de bar, avec la jambe tendue et ses cheveux de surfeur qui lui tombent sur l’œil gauche. Courtney aurait pu trouver pire.

— Ça vous dirait de manger cubain ? propose Abi. C’est de la bonne cuisine et il y a un nouveau club tout près. On se remplit la panse, puis on se lâche sur la piste ?

Ross rencontre mon regard et je secoue légèrement la tête.

— Désolé, les amis, ce sera sans nous ce soir. Peut-être une autre fois ?

Il s’excuse peut-être, mais il n’est pas repentant le moins du monde.

— Tu dois venir, j’ai besoin d’un pote de drague ! proteste Kaede.

Pourtant, il regarde toujours Courtney, et je peux presque lire dans ses pensées lorsqu’il décide que l’absence de Ross pourrait bien jouer en sa faveur, tout compte fait. Bien sûr, Abi mijote encore quelque chose, mais pour le coup, je pense que Kaede serait partant.

— Allez, lance Abi en se levant, prenant Courtney par le poignet d’une main et Kaede de l’autre. Ça marche. Je vais surveiller que vous ne fassiez pas de bêtises, tous les deux. Vous ne me faites pas confiance ?

— Il faut vraiment que je réponde ? gémit Courtney, déstabilisée par les sous-entendus d’Abi.

Abi lâche Kaede pour pousser Court vers la porte.

— D’accord, ne me fais pas confiance pour surveiller ton corps de rêve sur la piste de danse, mais fais-moi confiance sur un point : si on n’est pas sortis dans trois secondes, on va voir un côté de notre frère et de notre belle-sœur dont il vaut mieux préserver nos yeux.

Sans avoir besoin d’être traîné par Abi, Kaede les suit d’un air perplexe, s’arrêtant à la porte pour nous regarder alors que les filles disparaissent au bout du couloir.

— Je sais ce que vous faites avec Abi, tous les deux. Ça ne va pas marcher.

Si je suis étonnée, Ross se contente de ricaner.

— Qu’est-ce qui ne marchera pas ? demande-t-il avec un regard faussement innocent. Et même si Abi mijote quelque chose, je ne fais pas partie des plans fous qu’elle aurait concoctés.

Kaede lève les yeux au ciel et ajuste le col de sa chemise.

— Ce truc sur le mannequinat pour le site web ? Bien essayé, ducon.

Ses yeux lancent des éclairs vers Ross, mais sa bouche esquisse un sourire. Après quelques secondes, il admet sa défaite, pour cette fois.

— Enfoiré. On se voit demain.

La porte se referme derrière Kaede, nous laissant seuls, Ross et moi, dans le silence. Ross pose ses pieds sur notre nouveau pouf et se penche en arrière tout en se frottant les tempes.

— Ces trois-là… je croyais qu’ils ne partiraient jamais.

— Allez, le taquiné-je en me blottissant contre mon mari. Tu les adores. Et toi aussi, tu complotes, tu sais ?

— Pas vraiment, je veux juste l’asticoter un peu, concède Ross en passant un bras sur mes épaules pour m’attirer à lui. Mais je sais ce que fait Abi, elle adore jouer aux échecs. Nous ne sommes que des pions dans son petit jeu.

— Tu m’étonnes… elle nous a bien piégés, tous les deux, lui rappelé-je en posant mes jambes sur les siennes.

Ross soupire de bonheur et me caresse la cuisse, remontant ma jupe alors que je m’approche de lui.

— À moins que tu aies oublié ?

— Comment voudrais-tu que j’oublie ? fait Ross, renonçant aux câlins innocents pour m’attirer sur ses genoux. Elle a vraiment assuré, cette fois. Je ne sais pas pourquoi le Caïd se retient, parce que je sais qu’il a un faible pour Court. Peut-être qu’il pense qu’elle est inaccessible, comme c’est ma petite sœur ? Je devrais intervenir ? me demande-t-il.

Même si j’apprécie qu’il veuille voir sa sœur et son ami aussi heureux que nous, c’est une discussion que nous aurons une prochaine fois, car pour l’instant, j’ai trop faim… de lui. Je passe mes doigts dans ses cheveux. Il les laisse pousser un peu depuis notre lune de miel, et même s’ils sont un poil trop longs maintenant, c’est franchement sexy, juste ce qu’il faut pour que je puisse les tenir.

— Laisse faire Abi, dis-je en pressant les hanches contre le renflement aussi dur qu’impressionnant dans son pantalon.

Il m’attise sous ma jupe fluide, m’empoignant les fesses à travers le satin de ma culotte, et un tremblement électrique me parcourt.

— Nous avons d’autres sujets à aborder.

La lueur dans mes yeux lui exprime haut et fort que ce ne sont pas ses mots que j’attends.

Ross me répond avec le sourire arrogant que j’aime et je me penche, l’embrassant alors que nous nous étreignons. La chaleur entre nous monte rapidement en flèche. Je plaque mes seins contre son torse ferme et nous redoublons d’ardeur alors qu’il me guide, me frottant contre lui tout en pestant contre les vêtements qui nous séparent.

Ross me serre encore plus fort, exerçant de brefs coups de reins qui atteignent mon clitoris. Je suis sur le fil du rasoir quand soudain, la porte de l’appartement s’ouvre et une voix me refroidit tout à coup :

— Chéri, j’étais dans le quartier et… oh !

— Salut maman, répond Ross avec un grognement, alors que je m’écarte, en état de choc absolu, intensément soulagée d’avoir encore mes vêtements, même si je les haïssais un instant plus tôt.

J’essaye de me dégager de ses genoux, mais les mains de Ross se serrent toujours à la taille, plaquant toujours son membre épais contre ma culotte. Je me mords la lèvre alors qu’il lève les sourcils pour me faire signe de ne pas bouger.

— Euh, mauvais timing.

— Dé… désolée, bredouille madame Andrews, encore un peu troublée. Je n’ai pas, je veux dire…

— Maman ? l’interrompt Ross d’une voix ferme. Tu te rappelles que tu veux des petits-enfants ? Tu interromps le processus, là, tu sais ?

— D’accord… oh, d’accord ! fait madame Andrews, rougissant de plus belle. Bon, je vous appellerai plus tard. Ou mieux, tu m’appelles… euh, oui, bon… au revoir !

Elle sort en titubant et referme la porte derrière elle. Je me tourne vers Ross, qui essaie de ne pas rire.

— On devrait vraiment récupérer notre clé.

Il hausse les épaules et ses mains se referment à nouveau sur mes fesses.

— Quelque chose me dit qu’elle frappera la prochaine fois. Pour l’instant… où en étions-nous ?

Au lieu de répondre, je me penche et l’embrasse, laissant ma langue lui donner toutes les réponses nécessaires. Ross gémit, m’attirant contre lui alors que je roule des hanches contre son membre rigide.

Ses mots sont chauds contre mon cou lorsqu’il me souffle :

— Tu sais ce que je veux te faire ce soir ?

Ma tête tombe en arrière, lui laissant l’accès libre à ma peau, à la jonction de mon cou et de mon épaule.

— Quoi ? murmuré-je, concentrée sur le chemin que ses lèvres empruntent sur ma peau.

— Je veux t’étendre sur notre lit, te lécher jusqu’à ce que tu cries et que tu me supplies d’en avoir plus. Ensuite, je vais utiliser ce nouveau jouet que nous avons. Je vais te remplir avec cette grosse queue en toc et te faire jouir.

Je gémis devant l’image érotique qu’il crée dans mon esprit, prête à courir jusqu’à la chambre.

— Et puis, je vais te baiser moi-même et voir ce que tu préfères.

Je darde mon regard sur le sien, m’efforçant de me concentrer sur son visage arrogant que j’adore. Il connaît déjà la réponse. Tout comme moi.

— Je préfère la vraie. J’aime toujours mieux le réel avec toi.

— Je sais, murmure-t-il. Mais je pense que tu aimes jouer, pas vrai, pattes de poulet ?

La chaleur s’épanouit dans mon ventre. Il ne m’appelle que rarement par ce surnom, et maintenant, chaque fois qu’il le fait, c’est toujours avec la promesse d’un plaisir qui me fait rêver. Je crois qu’il fait pénitence pour toutes ces années de tourments, même si c’est inutile et que tout est pardonné. Pas oublié, cependant, car je n’échangerais pour rien au monde notre parcours, même s’il a fallu un faux mariage pour tomber amoureux pour de vrai et transformer cette relation d’enn-amis en amour véritable et unique.

Merci pour votre lecture ! Si vous voulez en savoir plus sur le reste du groupe, découvrez l’histoire de Kaede & Courtney, Mon fiancé chic en toc !

Kapitel 1

Violet

„Es ist … ein Frosch.“, sagt Abi geschockt.

Ich nicke und grinse über den Rand meines mit Eistee gefüllten Glases hinweg, als Abi und Courtney ihre ‚Besichtigungstour’ durch das ‚neue’ Penthouse beenden. Es ist nicht wirklich neu, ich habe nur hier und da ein paar Akzente hinzugefügt. Aber es bedeutete, dass einige Handwerker hinzugezogen werden mussten, was dazu führte, dass Ross und ich in der vergangenen Woche in der Familienvilla übernachteten, sein altes Schlafzimmer benutzten und versuchten, nicht zu viel im Weg zu sein.

Es machte mir nichts aus, mit ihm dicht an dicht in seinem alten Bett zu schlafen, aber es ist noch besser, zu Hause zu sein. In unserem Zuhause.

Abi ist wegen einiger meiner Dekorentscheidungen verwirrt, und ich muss sie wohl erläutern. Doch jetzt noch nicht, da es viel zu viel Spaß macht, sie zu necken. Als würde ich mit einem Kind sprechen, antworte ich: „Sehr gut, Abs. Es ist ein Frosch.“

Courtney schaut von Abi zu mir und dann zurück zu Abi. „Was ist an Fröschen verkehrt? Okay, sie sind nicht gerade süß, aber … es ist nur ein Teller für Konfekt. Glaub ich zumindest.“

„Du hast es ihr nie gesagt?“, frage ich Abi mit großen Augen. „Du hast Court nie die Froschgeschichte erzählt?“

„Nein“, grollt Abi und lässt sich auf die neue, entschieden weichere und viel bequemere Couch fallen. „Das ist dein Job … Storchenbein.“

„Ohh, das werde ich dir heimzahlen!“, knurre ich und lache dann. Das ist alles Schnee von gestern. Als ich Courtney die Geschichte von mir und Ross und dem Frosch aus dem Biounterricht erzähle, wird sie blass, bis ich am Ende lache. „Deshalb habe ich beschlossen, einfach als Erinnerung an unsere Idiotie, dass ein Frosch her muss. Es hat verdammt lange gedauert, bis ich endlich den Richtigen gefunden habe.“

Courtney lächelt und schüttelt den Kopf. „Ihr zwei seid wirklich wie für einander geschaffen. Mehr kann ich an dieser Stelle nicht sagen. Und ich mag die Veränderungen. Sie mildern einige von Ross’ harten Kanten.“

„Ich mag seine Härte durchaus, vielen Dank auch“, witzle ich, und Courtney fängt an, Würgegeräusche von sich zu geben. Abi und ich lachen. Sie hat wenig Schamgefühl in dieser Hinsicht und weiß, dass ihr großer Bruder und ich bei jeder sich bietenden Gelegenheit das Kopfteil des Bettes gegen die Wand haben krachen lassen, um die verlorene Zeit nachzuholen.

„Lasst uns zu einem sichereren Thema wechseln. Wie läuft die Arbeit?“, fragt Abi schließlich und rettet ihre Schwester. „Ihr habt den Ballsaal von Bitch-ella renoviert, dann den Speisesaal … Was macht ihr jetzt für sie?“

„Das Schlafzimmer“, antworte ich mit einem Grinsen. „Ob ihr es glaubt oder nicht, Archie hat sie dazu überredet, den Raum aufzupeppen, und behauptet, dass das ihrer Durchblutung zuträglich wäre. Und er hat nicht von ihrem Blutkreislauf gesprochen, wenn ihr wisst, was ich meine. Aber irgendwie ist die Eiskönigin tatsächlich rot geworden und hat bei dem Konzept von moderner Weiblichkeit mit einem Farbschema aus Bordeauxrot, Rot und Rouge mitgezogen. Ich schwöre, wenn er es gewollt hätte, hätte er sie bezirzen können, seine Sugar Momma zu sein.“

„Warte mal … sie weiß doch sicher, dass er auf Männer steht, oder?“

„Hmpf, sie weiß es nicht nur, sie hat auch erwähnt, dass sie einen Großneffen hat, der Arch für – ich zitiere – ‚den Allergrößten’ halten würde. Sie bringt die beiden sogar zusammen und hat ihnen einen Tisch im Chez Pontchartrain reserviert, und ihr wisst, wie schwer es ist, dort einen Tisch zu bekommen. Ich habe Arch gesagt, er solle sich amüsieren, und habe ihm das Wochenende frei gegeben, nachdem ich ihm das Versprechen abgerungen hatte, seine eigenen schmutzigen Details preiszugeben, wenn er zurückkommt“, antworte ich grinsend. „Ich schätze mal, es gibt zwei Möglichkeiten. Entweder schlägt er am Montagmorgen um acht Uhr früh mit einem sauren Gesicht im Büro auf …“

„Oder er lässt sich erst am Dienstagnachmittag blicken und kommt von Ohr zu Ohr grinsend herein!“, führt Abi den Satz zu Ende und lacht sich kaputt. „Mädel, ich schwöre dir, für eine Frau, die gerade erst geheiratet hat und alle ihre Wünsche erfüllt bekommt, sorgst du wirklich gerne dafür, dieses Gefühl der Liebe zu verbreiten!“

Ich lehne mich zurück und nippe wieder an meinem Tee. „Ja, gut … und weiter?“, fordere ich sie heraus und grinse. „Archie ist jetzt schon seit ein paar Jahren meine rechte Hand, und wenn er einen netten Kerl findet, dann freue ich mich für ihn. Aber jetzt würde ich zu gerne wissen, wer von euch beiden die Nächste ist.“

„Moment mal, was?“, fragt Courtney. Ihre Nase kräuselt sich verwirrt, als sie mit ihrem eigenen Glas Tee aus der Küche kommt. „Was meinst du damit, wer die Nächste ist?“

„Ach komm schon, Court!“, rügt Abi ihre Schwester. „Mrs. Stuffed Muffin da drüben will offensichtlich, dass wir ebenfalls dem Wedded Bliss Club beitreten. Wahrscheinlich schmiedet sie schon Pläne, zur gleichen Zeit wie du ein paar Wonneproppen in die Welt zu setzen.“

„Wie ich?“, fragt Courtney und versucht, nicht an ihrem Tee zu ersticken. „Warum muss ich dafür herhalten? Ich strample mich immer noch auf der Arbeit ab wie eine verdammte Ente und versuche, in die verdammt großen Fußstapfen zu treten, die Ross hinterlassen hat. Ich habe keine Zeit für einen Mann! Und du bist älter. Also solltest du das Opferlamm spielen, ehe du mich den Wölfen zum Fraß vorwirfst.“

Bevor Courtney weiter widersprechen kann, öffnet sich die Tür zum Penthouse, und Ross und Kaede kommen lachend herein. „Jedenfalls sagt der Typ dann: ‚Ich sollte dir dreimal so viel berechnen, da ich weiß, mit wem du zusammenarbeitest. In sechs Monaten werdet ihr das sowieso wieder an Gewinn reinholen!’“

Ross lacht. „Und was hast du gesagt?“

„Ich habe ihn einfach daran erinnert, dass mein Chef ein selbstgerechter Bastard ist, der gerne in der Öffentlichkeit Leute verprügelt und seine Angestellten noch schlechter behandelt“, sagt Kaede trocken, sieht mich und zwinkert uns dreien übertrieben zu. „Stimmts, meine Damen?“

„Stimmt absolut, deshalb nennen wir dich ‚Rechter Haken Andrews’“, scherze ich, stehe auf und lasse mich von Ross in eine Umarmung ziehen. „Nicht wahr, Babe? Du steuerst den Blitz und ich den Donner bei?“

„Nennst du dein Nudelholz jetzt so?“, neckt mich Ross und küsst mich, bevor ich meinen frechen Mund öffnen kann, um ihm Kontra zu geben. Wie immer rauben mir seine Lippen den Atem, und ich weiß, dass Abi recht hat. Ich möchte Freude, Glück und Liebe verbreiten.

„Und, wie ist die Suche nach Büroräumen gelaufen?“, fragt Abi, nachdem Ross mich loslässt, ihre beerenfarben geschminkten Lippen zu einem triumphierenden Lächeln verzogen.

Ich bin froh darüber, denn im Moment kann ich nicht wirklich sprechen, und wenn ich nicht abgelenkt werde, werde ich ihn über kurz oder lang durch den Flur ins Schlafzimmer schleifen. Gäste hin oder her, ich weiß, dass sie es verstehen werden. Natürlich weiß ich, dass wir jetzt verheiratet sind, aber je mehr ich von ihm habe, desto mehr will ich. Und ich hatte nicht annähernd genug, während unseres Aufenthaltes bei seinen Eltern.

„Nicht schlecht“, sagt Ross und seine Augen funkeln vor Aufregung. Er ist in seinem Element mit all den verschiedenen beruflichen Möglichkeiten, die wie ein Buffet vor ihm liegen, und nur darauf warten, dass er sich aussucht und entscheidet, wo er seine Zeit und sein Geld investieren möchte. „Wir haben heute ein Objekt drüben in Rosemont besichtigt … es ist ein bisschen groß für einen Zwei-Mann-Betrieb, aber falls wir es nehmen, haben wir genug Platz, um zu expandieren. Es gäbe sogar Platz für Projektarbeit und mehr. Vielleicht könnten Vi und Archie ihr Büro dorthin verlegen, sodass wir eine Fahrgemeinschaft bilden könnten?“

Ich schwöre, ich höre das kollektive Augenrollen von beiden Schwestern und Kaede, aber das klingt wirklich nach einer großartigen Idee.

„Was wollt ihr Jungs denn jetzt eigentlich machen?“, fragt Abi. „Und wenn ihr eine Fahrgemeinschaft bildet und so, nehme ich an, dass ihr vorhabt, dass alles in der Familie bleibt? Also dass Violet sich um die Inneneinrichtung kümmert und ich mich um eure neuen Visitenkarten und Marketingmaterialien? Das ist zwar nicht mein Fachgebiet, aber ich gebe euch den Familientarif.“

„Sicher … doch nur um das klarzustellen, ist dieser Familientarif höher oder niedriger als deine üblichen Gebühren?“ Er schenkt ihr sein überhebliches Grinsen, und Abi zuckt unverbindlich mit den Schultern und lächelt zurück. „Wir haben uns noch nicht ganz entschieden“, gibt Ross zu. „K-dawg hat heute einen interessanten Vorschlag unterbreitet bekommen. Kaede, willst du vielleicht alle auf den neuesten Stand bringen?“

Kaede, der in die Küche gegangen ist, um eine Flasche Sprudelwasser aus dem Kühlschrank zu holen, nimmt ein paar Schlucke, bevor er antwortet. „Heimfitness. Hab mit einem Typen gesprochen, der auf der Suche nach Geschäftspartnern ist. Er hat einen Spiegel, der eine Verbindung zu einer Online-Bibliothek für Trainingsprogramme herstellt. Man trainiert mit dem Trainer in Echtzeit und bleibt dabei in der Privatsphäre des eigenen Heims. Es verfügt über Algorithmen und Codierung, die daraus eine personalisierte, maßgeschneiderte Anwendung machen. Sehr innovativ und edel. Und sexy.“

„Ich habe Kaede vorgeschlagen, dass er unser Website-Modell sein könnte“, verkündet Ross. „Ich gehe davon aus, dass wir mit einem Kaede mit nacktem Oberkörper innerhalb von sechs Monaten eine Million Dollar Umsatz machen würden. Wahrscheinlich müsste man jedoch alles geben, sich wirklich dafür einsetzen, Mann. Oberkörper frei, verschwitzt und Wasser hinunterstürzend, sodass es dir vom Kinn tropft. Verdammt, du solltest aufs Ganze gehen und mit der Hand über deine Bauchmuskeln fahren, während du dir auf die Lippe beißt. Wir lassen dabei ‚Pony’ von Ginuwine im Hintergrund laufen, aber mit Geigen, sodass es total stylish und edel wirkt.“

Bevor wir in Gelächter ausbrechen können, wählt Courtney diesen Moment, um ihr Glas aus der Hand gleiten zu lassen, und es fällt auf den Boden. Zum Glück zerbricht es nicht, da es auf dem Plüschteppich landet, aber sie verschüttet ein bisschen Tee dabei. „Oh Gott … tut mir leid, Leute, ich wische es auf!“

Kaede ist schneller, und ich schwöre, Court errötet bis an die Haarwurzeln, als er ihr eines der Küchentücher reicht. Er selbst hat ein anderes in der Hand und lässt sich vor ihre Füße fallen, um den Fleck weg zu tupfen. Courtney schaut auf Kaede hinunter, und ich schwöre, ich sehe, wie sie ganz leicht erschauert, bevor sie sich neben ihm bückt, um ihm zu helfen. „Danke.“

Er blickt auf und ein sanftes Lächeln spielt um seine Lippen. „Wir können das zusammen machen, dann gibt es keine Sauerei.“

Ich schaue zu Abi und Ross hinüber, die beide den gleichen amüsierten Gesichtsausdruck tragen. Da mir Courtney ein wenig leidtut, räuspere ich mich. Liebe verbreiten, ja, aber nicht zu dick aufgetragen. „Nun, falls du dich für eine Investition entscheidest, solltest du das Model für die Website sein, obwohl niemand glauben wird, dass sie nicht mit Photoshop bearbeitet wurde“, sage ich zu Ross, nehme seine Hand und drücke sie, um ihm zu signalisieren, Court in Ruhe zu lassen. Doch seine hochgezogene Augenbraue zeigt mir, dass er noch nicht fertig ist.

„Kaede hätte in hautengen Work-out-Shorts mehr Spaß daran, könnte die Ausbeulung in seinen Shorts und diese V-förmigen Muskeln, die die Mädels zum Durchdrehen bringen, richtig zur Geltung bringen“, antwortet Ross und lacht leise, als Courtneys Finger an ihrem Platz auf dem Boden zittern und sie ihr Glas wieder fallen lässt. Beide Hände fest um das Teeglas geschlossen, springt sie schließlich auf die Füße. Halb geht, halb rennt sie in die Küche, um es in den Geschirrspüler zu stellen, und vermeidet es dabei, jemanden anzusehen. Trotzdem ist es kaum zu übersehen, wie flammend rot sich ihre Wangen färben.

Ross’ Grinsen ist beinahe selbstgefällig, während Kaede den Kopf gesenkt hält und den Rest des verschütteten Tees weg tupft. „Warum quälst du deine Schwester?“, flüstere ich ihm ins Ohr. „Und deinen besten Freund?“

„Weil sie einen kleinen Schubs braucht … beide von ihnen“, sagt Ross und wirft Abi einen Blick zu, die nickt, als sie seine Lippen liest. „Außerdem macht es Spaß, sie zu beobachten.“

Abi flüstert leise: „Intrigen-Treffen. Du und ich, Bruder. Runde eins hat ziemlich gut funktioniert.“ Sie klopft sich auf die Schulter und deutet an, dass sie bereit ist, Runde zwei in Angriff zu nehmen. Ein kleiner Teil von mir hat Mitleid mit Court, weil ich weiß, wie es sich anfühlt, wenn man nicht alles unter Kontrolle hat. Aber Abi hat nicht ganz unrecht. Es hat für Ross und mich geklappt, und vielleicht bekommen Kaede und Court ja dasselbe Happy End.

Courtney kehrt zu ihrem Platz zurück, setzt sich und räuspert sich. Sie sieht steif und korrekt aus, als wäre dies eine Vorstandssitzung, bei der sie zusammengestaucht werden soll, und nicht ein zwangloses Familienessen im Haus ihres Bruders. Kaede lässt sein Handtuch in die Spüle fallen und bleibt dann in der Küche, wo er sich auf einen Barhocker vor der großen Kücheninsel setzt. Seine Körperhaltung ist entspannt, sein Kiefer jedoch angespannt. Kaede und Courtney stellen demonstrativ Augenkontakt her, obwohl Abi und Ross miteinander ein langes, stillschweigendes Gespräch nur mit den Augen führen.

„Ich weiß nicht so recht, Ross“, sagt Abi und spürt, dass wir Courtney und Kaede genug gepiesackt haben. „Nichts für ungut, K, aber alles, was mit Fitness einhergeht, ist ein ziemlich überfüllter Markt. Irgendwelche anderen Ideen?“

„Keine ähnlich Vielversprechenden, aber es gibt ein paar“, bestätigt Ross. „Standard-Finanzsachen, hauptsächlich Risikokapital. Wir haben die nötigen Connections, aber ich will sichergehen, dass wir Dad nicht auf die Füße treten. Ich glaube … nun, ich glaube, ich habe das schon zur Genüge getan. Alles, was irgendwie in Beziehung zum Familienunternehmen steht, ist daher tabu, es sei denn, er gibt mir grünes Licht. Und ich möchte sicher sein, dass das, was auch immer wir machen werden, etwas ist, hinter dem wir voll und ganz stehen und das wir aus Überzeugung machen. Ich möchte richtig reinhauen und die Ideen wirklich gründlich durchleuchten, denn jemand hat mir einmal gesagt, dass ich manchmal ein Idiot sein kann, und ich will nicht riskieren, dass das noch einmal passiert. Vorsichtig und überlegt, das ist der Grundgedanke.“

„Das ist gut“, sagt Courtney und findet ihr Lächeln wieder bei der Erinnerung daran, wie beide Schwestern Ross sagten, er solle seinen Kopf aus dem Arsch ziehen, eine Geschichte, die ich immer wieder gerne und mit dem größten Vergnügen höre. „Ich würde es hassen, meinen großen Bruder in Verlegenheit zu bringen, indem ich ihn bei einem Geschäftsabschluss schlage.“

„Aalso … Was ist denn jetzt mit dem Abendessen? Haben wir irgendwo eine Reservierung?“, fragt Kaede von seinem Barhocker aus und kommt damit wieder auf unsere Pläne für den Abend zu sprechen. Ich muss zugeben, so sexy Ross auch ist, Kaede hat irgendwie diesen Fitnessmodel-Look, mit dem ausgestreckten Bein und den dunklen Surfer Boy-Haaren, die über sein linkes Auge fallen. Courtney könnte es verdammt viel schlechter treffen.

„Wie wäre es mit The Cuban Kitchen?“, fragt Abi. „Die haben gutes Essen, und es gibt da diesen neuen Klub in der Nähe. Wollen wir uns erst die Bäuche vollschlagen und dann einen aufs Parkett legen?“

Ross begegnet meinem Blick und ich antworte ihm mit einem winzigen Nicken. „Sorry Leute, wir sind heute Abend außen vor. Vielleicht ein anderes Mal?“ Obwohl er sich entschuldigt, ist er ganz eindeutig kein bisschen reumütig.

„Du musst mitkommen, ich brauche einen Wingman!“, protestiert Kaede. Doch er schaut zu Courtney hinüber, und ich kann fast seine Gedanken lesen, als er zu dem Schluss kommt, dass es ihm vielleicht zum Vorteil gereichen würde, wenn Ross nicht dabei wäre. Jepp, Abi intrigiert wieder, aber zumindest ein Teil von Kaede will dabei mitspielen.

„Pfff“, erwidert Abi, steht auf und packt mit einer Hand Courtney am Handgelenk und mit der anderen Hand Kaede. „Ihr habt doch mich. Ich werde dafür sorgen, dass ihr beide schön sicher seid. Vertraut ihr mir nicht?“

„Muss ich darauf antworten?“, stöhnt Courtney, als sie fast ins Straucheln gerät, weil Abi sie so hinter sich her zerrt.

Abi lässt Kaede los, um Court mit beiden Händen zur Tür zu schieben. „Mädel, du traust mir vielleicht nicht zu, dass ich auf der Tanzfläche auf diesen Prachtarsch aufpasse, aber du kannst darauf vertrauen, dass wir, wenn wir nicht in drei Sekunden hier raus sind, eine Seite von unserem Bruder und unserer Schwägerin sehen werden, die wir nicht aus erster Hand erleben wollen.“

Auch ohne dass Abi ihn mitschleppt, folgt Kaede ihnen mit einem irritierten Gesichtsausdruck und bleibt an der Tür stehen, um uns anzusehen, während die Mädels im Flur verschwinden. „Ich weiß, was du und Abi da macht, Ross. Es wird nicht funktionieren.“

Das überrascht mich, obwohl Ross nur leise vor sich hin lacht.

„Was wird nicht funktionieren?“, fragt Ross mit einem trügerisch unschuldigen Gesichtsausdruck. „Und selbst wenn Abi etwas vorhätte, würde ich mich sicher nicht an irgendeinem verrückten Plan beteiligen, den sie ausheckt.“

Kaede verdreht die Augen und richtet seinen Hemdkragen. „Dieser Schwachsinn mit dem Website-Model? Netter Versuch, Blödmann.“ Er erdolcht Ross mit seinen Blicken, aber seine Mundwinkel kämpfen gegen ein Lächeln an. Nach nur ein paar Sekunden gibt er sich geschlagen, für dieses Mal. „Arschloch. Ich sehe dich dann morgen.“

Die Tür schließt sich hinter Kaede und lässt nur Ross und mich schweigend zurück. Ross stützt seine Füße auf unserer neuen Ottomane auf, lehnt sich zurück und massiert sich die Schläfen. „Diese drei … Ich dachte schon, die würden nie gehen.“

„Jetzt komm schon“, ziehe ich ihn auf und kuschle mich an meinen Ehemann. „Du liebst sie. Und du bist auch ganz schön durchtrieben, weißt du?“

„Nicht wirklich, ich verarsch ihn nur“, gibt Ross zu, legt einen Arm um meine Schultern und hält mich fest. „Aber ich weiß, was Abi macht. Sie liebt es, romantisches Schach zu spielen. Wir sind alle nur Bauern in ihrem kleinen Spiel.“

„Meensch … aber sie hat uns mit ihren Intrigen zusammengebracht“, erinnere ich ihn, als ich meine Beine über seine lege. Ross brummt und reibt mit seiner Hand auf meinem Oberschenkel auf und ab, wobei er meinen Rock jedes Mal ein bisschen weiter nach oben schiebt, während ich mich enger an ihn schmiege. „Oder hast du das schon vergessen?“

„Wie könnte ich?“, fragt Ross. Er gibt das ‚Kuscheln’ auf und zieht mich ganz auf seinen Schoß, damit ich mich rittlings auf seine Hüften setzen kann. „Das hat sie damals definitiv richtig gemacht. Ich bin mir nur nicht sicher, warum K-dawg sich zurückhält, denn ich weiß, dass er eine Schwäche für Court hat. Vielleicht denkt er, dass sie, da sie meine kleine Schwester ist, tabu für ihn ist? Soll ich vielleicht etwas sagen?“, fragt er mich.

Und obwohl ich es zu schätzen weiß, dass er seine Schwester und seinen Freund genauso glücklich sehen möchte, wie wir es sind, ist das eine Diskussion, die wir später führen können, denn im Moment hungere ich … nach ihm. Ich streiche mit den Fingern durch Ross’ Haare. Er hat es seit unseren Flitterwochen etwas wachsen lassen und obwohl es jetzt ein bisschen lang ist, ist es eine ausgesprochen sexy Strubbelmähne, genau richtig für mich zum Zupacken.

„Überlass das Abi“, necke ich und reibe meine Hüften an der wunderbar harten Wölbung, die sich in seiner Hose bildet. Er streicht mit seinen Händen aufreizend unter meinem fließenden Rock nach oben und packt meinen Hintern durch mein Satinhöschen. Ein elektrisierendes Kribbeln durchfährt mich. „Wir haben andere Dinge zu besprechen.“ Das Glitzern in meinen Augen teilt ihm klipp und klar mit, dass ich nicht hinter seinen Worten her bin.

Ross grinst mich mit diesem frechen Lächeln an, das ich so liebe. Ich beuge mich vor und diesmal bin ich es, die ihn küsst. Während wir uns aneinander reiben, nimmt die Hitze zwischen uns rasant zu. Ich reibe meine Brüste an seiner harten Brust und wir beide bewegen uns schneller und entschlossener, während er mich lenkt, uns enger aneinander zieht und mich die Trennung aufgrund unserer Kleidung verfluchen lässt.

Ross umklammert mich fest und macht kurze Stöße, die meine Klitoris stimulieren, und ich bin direkt am Abgrund, als sich plötzlich die Wohnungstür öffnet und eine Stimme, die mir einen kalten Schauer über den Rücken jagt, ruft. „Liebling, ich war in der Nähe und … ohh!“

„Hallo Mom“, sagt Ross mit einem Knurren in der Stimme, als ich mich völlig geschockt zurücklehne. Ich bin gerade mehr als dankbar, dass ich meine Kleider noch anhabe, obwohl ich sie soeben noch verflucht habe. Ich versuche, von seinem Schoss herunterzuklettern, aber Ross’ Hände umklammern meine Taille und er presst seine dicke Wölbung noch fester gegen mein Höschen, sodass ich mir nur mühsam ein Aufkeuchen verkneifen kann, während er bedeutungsvoll eine Augenbraue hochzieht, die mir signalisiert, mich nicht zu bewegen. „Ähm, schlechtes Timing.“

„Entsch … Entschuldigung“, stößt Mrs. Andrews hervor, immer noch ein wenig aus dem Gleichgewicht. „Ich wollte nicht …, ich meine …“

„Mom?“, unterbricht Ross sie mit fester Stimme. „Erinnerst du dich, wie sehr du dir Enkelchen wünschst? Du unterbrichst sozusagen diesen Prozess, weißt du?“

„Richtig … oh, richtig!“, erwidert Mrs. Andrews und errötet sogar noch mehr. „Okay, ich rufe dich später an. Oder noch besser, du rufst mich an … ähm, genau, ähm … tschüss!“

Sie stolpert hinaus, schließt die Tür hinter sich und ich drehe mich zu Ross, der versucht, nicht zu lachen. „Wir sollten wirklich unseren Schlüssel zurückverlangen.“

Ross zuckt mit den Schultern, und seine Hände kneten wieder meinen Arsch. „Irgendetwas sagt mir, dass sie das nächste Mal anklopfen wird. Und was das Weitere angeht … Wo waren wir stehen geblieben?“

Anstatt zu antworten, beuge ich mich vor und küsse ihn erneut. Meine Zunge gibt ihm alle erforderlichen Antworten. Ross stöhnt und zieht mich dicht an sich heran, während ich meine Hüften über seiner nun wieder vollkommen harten Wölbung kreisen lasse.

Seine Worte sind heiß an meinem Hals. „Weißt du, was ich heute Abend mit dir machen will?“

Mein Kopf fällt nach hinten und verschafft ihm damit einen besseren Zugang, um an der Haut am Übergang zu meiner Schulter zu knabbern. „Was?“, murmle ich und verliere mich in dem Gefühl, das seine Lippen auf ihrem Weg über meine Haut auslösen.

„Ich möchte dich auf unserem Bett ausbreiten, dich lecken, bis du schreist und um mehr bettelst. Und dann werde ich dieses neue Spielzeug benutzen, das wir besorgt haben. Ich werde dich mit diesem großen … fetten … unechten … Schwanz füllen und dich mit ihm kommen lassen.“ Ich wimmere angesichts des sexy Bildes, das er in meinem Kopf erzeugt, bereit, ins Schlafzimmer zu verschwinden. „Und dann werde ich dich selbst ficken und herausfinden, was dir lieber ist.“

Ich schaue ihm in die Augen, kämpfe um Konzentration und liebe die Arroganz auf seinem Gesicht. Er kennt die Antwort bereits. Genauso wie ich.

„Ich will das echte Ding. Immer das Echte mit dir“, flehe ich.

„Ich weiß“, haucht er. „Aber ich glaube, du magst es auch, ein wenig geneckt zu werden, nicht wahr, Störchlein?“

Hitze erblüht tief in meinem Unterleib. Er nennt mich nur noch selten bei diesem Spitznamen für meine Storchenbeine, und wenn er es jetzt tut, dann immer mit dem Versprechen von Genüssen, von denen ich nur träumen konnte. Ich glaube, er versucht, für die jahrelangen Quälereien Buße zu tun, obwohl das unnötig und längst vergeben ist. Aber sie sind nicht vergessen, denn ich würde um nichts in der Welt eintauschen, wie wir bis zu diesem Punkt gelangt sind, selbst wenn es einer Big Fat Fake Wedding bedurfte, um mich wirklich zu verlieben, und aus meinem Frenemie meine einzig wahre Liebe werden zu lassen.

Zoey

Walking into my best friend’s house isn’t the way it used to be. Years ago, when Holly forcefully adopted me as her friend, there was a void I could feel. Not that she wasn’t an amazing single mom or that Olive wasn’t a happy five-year old child back then. To the contrary, they were a family of two that tackled the world by storm and I was largely in awe of their combined strength.

But now? There’s a buzz to the air in Holly’s home, palpable on your skin. You walk in the front door and you feel life, energy… happiness in a way I couldn’t begin to describe. Not because Holly has a man in her life that she loves, or that he’s holding another baby in his arms. Not even because of who that man is. But because they’ve created something wonderful and are changing lives for the better each and every day.

“Hey Jacob!” I’m happy to see him, but I keep my voice down in consideration of the almost-toddler in his arms that’s sleeping fitfully. Baby Finley is prone to talking in her sleep, her pink lips pursing and opening randomly.

“Hey Zo,” he whispers back, a smile stretching his mouth wide enough to show his white smile. He looks good… happy. And all grown up, which gives me the slightest twinge of parental pride even though Grandma and Grandpa had a lot more to do with that than I did. But I feel it for them, knowing how thrilled they be that the kid they’d brought home like a lost puppy has become such a good man. He’s tall now, finishing his growth spurt during college at just over six-foot, and no longer skinny, but wide and muscled from hours in the gym doing workouts with Blake and Trey. For twenty-three, he looks tired though, with soft smudges of purple under his eyes.

“Finley not sleep last night?” I ask, rubbing her back softly and cooing to her while Jacob bounces her. She looks like a tiny burrito on his broad chest, the black ink of his tattoo peeking out his shirt sleeve in stark contrast to the pink bunnies of Finley’s blanket.

“No, but she’s doing better. I’m gonna lay her down. You mind helping Hols with the cake?” He leans down, whispering lowly, “Make sure you tell her it looks good. She was stressing about the decorations.”

I smile at the request. He takes good care of Holly, always has and always will. It took Holly a long time to see it, and even longer to be open to Jacob, but somehow, he got the woman he always wanted. Once he grew up a little more, though their age difference hasn’t been a thing in a while. Especially when you see the two of them together. The love they feel for each other, and for Olive and their foster daughter, Finley, radiates from inside them. That’s what makes this house so different now. Their family.

In the kitchen, I find Blake helping set out the food he carried in. Blake made a crockpot of meatballs and I prepared cucumber sandwiches to go with the ‘party punch’ Olive requested.

“Okay, and the cups go on the drink station. The forks go by the plates, and… what else? What am I missing?” Holly asks. Maybe she’s talking to Blake? Or more likely, she’s talking to herself because Blake is frozen with a confused, ‘what do I do first?’ expression on his face.

“Hugging me?” I suggest, holding my arms out wide.

Holly smiles and I can see some of the stress melt off of her. Reinforcements have arrived. “Zo! Thank God!” She throws one arm over my shoulder and gives me a distracted hug. “Can you… uh…” She waves her hands around the kitchen, gesturing to everything, “Help?”

“Of course.” I pick up the closest tray of snacks so I look busy and Blake gives me a grateful look.

He kisses my cheek, whispering in my ear, “Thanks for the rescue, Mrs. Hale. Let me know when to start the grill for hot dogs.”

I whisper back into his ear, “Just let me know when Fernanda gets here with the sangria. Holly’s gonna need her Yeti-tumbler on auto-refill today.”

He nods with a smirk and disappears back into the living room to hunt down Jacob. They’ve become good friends too, not just from their workouts, but also from playing video games and going out for an occasional beer. Though we have yet to get Jacob to come to a trivia night. We probably never will now that him and Holly have a new little one to care for.

The oven dings and I choose that to address first because the last thing we need is the smoke detectors going off and waking Finley up when she’s finally asleep. I pull the pizza rolls out, nibbling on one even though I know it’s too hot. I never learn because they’re so good, even if Holly is making them for the kids.

“How’re you doing, Holly?” I ask, blowing on the lava insides of my swiped snack.

“Good. You?” she answers robotically, still moving about the kitchen setting out bowls of chips and dip.

“Really?” I challenge, wanting a true answer. She looks tired, her purple smudges matching Jacob’s. “Talk to me.”

Her sigh is heavy as she spins to lean against the kitchen counter. “Can I tell you something as my best friend and not Jacob’s sister-mother-friend?” She looks uncertain if that’s a possibility, or maybe as though whatever she wants to say is going to pull at my loyalties.

I lift one brow appraisingly. “Depends. Did you or Jacob, or anyone else, do something I’m gonna kill them for? If that’s the case, no promises.” My shrug is casual, as if discussing murderous consequences is no big deal. For us, it’s not, though luckily, it’s never come to that.

“Nothing like that. I’m just not sure if Jacob-“ Her words cut off as tears start running down her cheeks.

I rush to her, gathering her in my arms. “Oh honey, what’s wrong. What did that idiot do?”

“He’s not…” she sniffs, “he didn’t do anything. He’s… awesome.” She doesn’t sound like she believes what she’s saying. In fact, the ‘awesome’ drawls out extra-long, becoming a whine.

“Hols, you’re freaking me out. What’s wrong?” I say, calm and quiet. And verging on deadly. Jacob is my family, but if he’s making Holly cry, I’ll reconsider my moratorium on murder.

She takes a steadying breath, looking up to the ceiling. “Nobody knows yet, Zo, but… I’m pregnant.”

“What?” I yell joyfully. Holly’s hand smacks over my mouth, her eyes imploring me to shut up. Against her hand, I smile. And slowly, her face transforms into a hopeful smile too.

Her hand falls from my mouth and she repeats, “I’m pregnant.”

This time, I’m ready for it and don’t squeal. “Congratulations, Hols! That’s awesome, right?”

Her single nod doesn’t reassure me. “I think so, but do you think Jacob’s going to think so?” She doesn’t wait for my answer, but keeps rambling. “Olive’s ten, Finley’s not even two, and now, we’ll have a third. Jacob’s only twenty-three, for fuck’s sake.”

“Breathe,” I coach her, inhaling and exhaling with her like she’s already in labor, though judging by her flat belly, that’s a long way away. “Do you know what Jacob’s dream has always been?” Holly takes another breath, shaking her head even though I know she knows the answer. She just wants to hear it from someone else, someone she trusts. “A big family with you. Since he was way too young, that’s what he wanted. He put in the work to go to school, get his degree, and find a job that would support that goal. Most importantly, he waited for you to be ready to truly see him, and you did. You do. You know he is head over heels for you, Holly. And he’s going to be so thrilled. Hell, he already struts around like a proud rooster, crowing about his girls, and one more – hell, two or three more – is only going to add to that.”

“You think so?” she hiccups.

“I know so.” I tilt my head, giving her a pointed look. “And you know so too, don’t you?”

Her sniffle signals the end of her hysterical moment. “I do. I’m just nervous, and hormonal, I think. I wasn’t like this with Olive. I knew I was alone, knew it was all on my shoulders with her, but this time, I want to have a baby with Jacob, and I’m scared he’s going to bolt.”

Unable to stop myself, I laugh at that, even though my best friend is honestly fearful. But the fear is so ridiculously unfounded. “He might run… upstairs to start renovations and get the nursery ready. And to the home improvement store for paint and a crib. Knowing Jacob, he’ll stop by that ice cream place and get you a pint too. The only real danger here is that he’s going to strap you to the couch and wait on you hand and foot for the next nine months.”

“That might not be so bad,” Holly admits.

“What might not be so bad?” Amy says, barging into the kitchen with a big pitcher of red, fruit-filled liquid and into the conversation with zero fucks given.

“Oh, uh…” Holly blinks, apparently unable to think on her feet with a new baby requiring all her blood supply and leaving her brain foggy.

“If we eat all the pizza rolls and leave the hot dogs for the kids,” I answer quickly.

“I’m down for that,” Amy agrees, and after setting the sangria Fernanda made on the far counter, she helps herself to three pizza rolls. One goes in her mouth, and she holds two at the ready. “How can these be so disgusting and so good all at the same time?”

“Magic potion dust,” I deadpan, wiggling my fingers over the cookie sheet of snacks. Amy and Holly laugh, but when Amy dips the second roll into the ranch dip, Holly turns a little green. She’s not going to be able to keep the pregnancy a secret for long if she’s reacting like that. Jacob will definitely notice. He always notices everything about Holly.

“If you don’t need me, I think I’ll go see if Miles is terrorizing Olive. He made a scavenger hunt for them to do, and when they complete it, he’ll give her the gift we bought her. But I think he’s mostly excited to use the paint and canvases we got for Olive himself. At least it’ll keep them busy and having fun,” Amy says.

“Oh, Olive will love that,” Holly gushes. Olive and Miles became good friends years ago, ironically bonding because everyone was shuffling around to take care of me after I was kidnapped. I’m fine, now. No residual effects, other than I don’t like dark, enclosed spaces. But that’s easy enough to avoid. But when the kids bonded in those early days, they’d either stayed with Jacob or Amy and Fernanda so that Holly and Blake could spend as much time with me as possible. I think Holly seeing Jacob with Olive was what made her first open her eyes and really see him too.

“I need to tell Blake to fire up the grill too. I’ll be right back?” I ask Holly, wanting to make sure she’s on steady ground before I leave her. She nods easily, her mood chipper now. Yeah, hormones might do a number on her this time. Not that I knew her when she was pregnant with Olive, but if this feels different to her, maybe she’s having a boy this time?

I touch the wooden pendant hanging at my throat for luck. I know Jacob and Holly will love the baby whole-heartedly, no matter what, but a mini-Jacob would be especially poignant, I think. A family is so much more than blood. It’s those that choose you, and that you choose, but knowing Jacob has someone just like him, after so many years without, would be bittersweet.

Outside, I see Jacob and Blake, each with a beer in their hands, talking to Fernanda and overseeing what looks to be the scavenger hunt. I sidle up to Blake, easily slipping my arm around his waist and snuggling into him. He’s warm and solid, his muscles hard beneath my palm when I slip my hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

When there’s a lull in the conversation, I tell Blake, “Fire it up, Mr. Hale. I’m ready for a long, thick wiener.”

Fernanda laughs and throws us a trivia joke, “What is ‘something I’ve never said, Alex?’”

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the wieners. You can see if there’s one you like,” Blake teases Fernanda, but they walk off together toward the grill as Blake tells her some hot dog trivia.

Jacob takes a long pull of his beer, looking at me over the bottle through narrowed eyes. I look back, blank faced. I can’t share Holly’s secret. It’s hers to tell Jacob when she’s ready, but damned if I don’t want to tell him fiercely. “She tell you?” Jacob asks so quietly I almost think I imagined it.

I gape, staring at him with an open mouth and even wider eyes. “What?”

I’m a shit liar and we both know it, so when Jacob chuckles, I give up the charade I’m not pulling off successfully anyway. “You know?”

“Of course I know,” Jacob answers, as if that was a stupid question. “I think I knew before she did. I could tell by her tits.”

“TMI, Jacob. Best friend and brother… foul on the play.”

“What?” he asks innocently. “It’s not like I said her taste changed, got sweeter. Though I’ve heard that can happen too.”

“Ack! Lalalala… Don’t say that!” I put my fingers in my ears, pretending I did not hear that. “Just go in there and give her a hug, asshole. She’s freaking out, thinking you’re gonna freak out.” I point toward the house with a thumb, telling him exactly where to go and it’s not only the kitchen. Anywhere where we’re not having a talk about sex works for me.

Jacob scoffs, the picture of calm. Until an evil little gleam enters his eyes, “Might be time for you to join the kid parade too, Zo. You and Blake ain’t getting any younger.”

I make a sound of displeasure, smacking his shoulder with the back of my hand. “You take that back.” His laughter hangs in the air long after he’s gone into the kitchen, and as I look out over the yard with kids playing and see Blake manning the grill, I can feel my ovaries twitch… a little. Maybe.

* * *

Blake

Something’s on Zoey’s mind. I can tell by the way she watches from the outside all day, not playing with kids or joining in the adults’ conversations, but simply sitting back and letting them all flow right over her. She keeps looking at Holly and Jacob too. I’d think there was something wrong, but Holly is smiling dreamily. And I don’t think it has anything to do with Fernanda’s sangria. It’s delicious, and definitely brings out some happy feelings, but Holly seems to be floating on a different level of happiness. And I’m pretty sure I saw Jacob filling her Yeti-tumbler with La Croix, not sangria. Blech, how does she drink that stuff anyway? It tastes like someone passed a lime in the vicinity of carbonated water and it slightly absorbed a fraction of the essence of the fruit, but not the actual taste.

Hours after Olive has opened her presents, completed Miles’ scavenger hunt, and blown out her birthday candles, we finally head home. The car ride to our house on the county outskirts is quiet as Zoey fiddles with her necklace mindlessly. I don’t think she even knows she’s doing it, but I let her figure out whatever it is that’s on her mind. I know she’ll tell me when she’s ready, and I think it’s something good because she keeps smiling softly in between brow furrows.

The dam finally breaks when we get home and are getting ready for bed. I’ve got a mouth full of toothpaste when Zoey asks, “What do you think about children?”

I gag a little on the foam, and it sputters out onto the mirror and dribbles down my chin. I’m sure I look a bit rabid, but I quickly spit. I grab a towel and wipe my chin, “Uhm.. I think they’re great. Cute, cuddly, fun.”

“You sound like you’re describing Chunky, not a baby.”

“Well, the adjectives do fit both, but I get the feeling that’s maybe not what you really want to ask.” I hold my breath, willing my heart rate to slow, as my hands fist as my side.

Steady, Blake. Don’t spook her.

Zoey nibbles her lip, her chin dropping like she’s nervous. I crowd into her, sharing the same space as I put my hands on her hips. “Zoey, look at me.” Slowly, an inch at a time, she lifts her head and meets my eyes. “Talk to me. What’s going on that gorgeous mind of yours?”

“What would you think about us having children? Or a child? Maybe just one? Like to start? Or I don’t know…” The words get faster and faster, her eyes wider and wider, until she shrugs like she didn’t plan out how to say any of that.

I pick her up, dropping her to the bathroom counter and making room for myself between her thighs. “Zoey Hale, I would have a baby with you any time you want to. Tonight, right now,” I vow.

She laughs lightly, her fingers tracing the dusting of hair on my chest. “I’m serious,” she tells me.

“So am I.”

So much hope fills her eyes in an instant that they glisten with unshed tears. “Really? You mean it?”

Instead of answering with words – something we’re usually so good at – I let my actions do the speaking. I reach into the vanity drawer and grab her birth control pills. Standing by the trash can, I meet her eyes and lift my brow in question. She nods and I drop them.

And like that… Zoey Hale and I are going to have a baby. It might not be tonight, though I’m certainly going to enjoy trying, but soon.

She trusts me that we’ll be okay. She has faith that our baby will be okay. And most of all, she has hope that no matter what, we’ll create some good luck all our own, even if it does take a bit of knocking on wood.

I return to her, cupping her face to kiss her, vowing a long life of love, happiness, and joy with every caress of my tongue. I scoop her up again, and her legs instinctively wrap around my waist. Carefully, I carry her to the bedroom and toss her to the bed.

“Take off your clothes,” I tell her and she instantly reaches for the hem of her sleep shirt, pulling it over her head. I drop my underwear to the floor, stepping out of them as I grip my cock in my hand. “Fuck, I’m already so hard. I’ve been ready for this, Zo, and I want to take my time and worship you, but I’m tempted to slam home and fill you up.” I give myself a couple of strokes, deciding I can wait. I can always wait for Zoey because she’s worth it every single time.

Zoey’s eyes track the movement of my hand… up my cock, over the head, and down the shaft again. I cup my balls, which are painfully full now that there’s an extra layer of possibility to our lovemaking.

Scrambling to shove her panties down, Zoey gasps out, “That one. The second one. Come here, Blake.” She means to come to her, but what I hear is an order for me to come inside her, inside the heaven she’s showing me right now with her feet on the bed and her knees spread wide.

I lay over her, aligning our bodies and with our eyes locked, I slide into her. “Yes,” she sighs as I grunt. How can she feel this good every time?

We find a rhythm as I thrust slow and deep, and Zoey lifts her hips to meet my every stroke. I’ve had her hundreds of times by now, but this time, there seems to be something primal about it for us both. Our bodies slap together, my cock bottoming out deep inside her, and our moans of pleasure turning to growls and grunts of furious need.

I stay deep inside Zoey, grinding my hips so I can slip my thumb over her clit. “Come for me. I want to feel you pull the cum from me with those sexy, little flutters your pussy makes.”

Her high-pitched wail is enough to wake the dead, or our neighbors… if we had any. But out here in the country of Williamson County, we have several acres and no one to hear my wife cry out her pleasure. Or mine. Because as soon as those sweet spasms start, I’m a goner. I fill her up with pulse after pulse of cum, hopefully enough to make our dreams come true.

If not, we’ll try again. In twenty minutes or less.

The End

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed Drop Dead Gorgeous, make sure you check out my book The Dare (standalone) and My Big Fat Fake Wedding (3 book series)!

Louise

“Whew!” I let out a puff of air as I rise from the dirt, one hand going to my brow to swipe at the sweat threatening to run down my temple. I scan the horizon line to measure the sun’s height in the sky. “All right, let’s get this basket inside and get dinner started.”

“Yes ma’am,” a chorus replies. It’s not a clean, crisp answer, but rather, a round of little voices talking over each other.

“Where’re my ducks?” I question and the whole mini-crew comes running, some from the garden and some from the yard, to line up behind me like little ducklings.

A tiny voice says, “Quack, quack.”

“Ssh, you have to wait for Mama Louise to say it first,” Cindy Lou bosses her little sister, Maisie. Cindy Lou does that a lot, but Maisie would happily follow her big sister any way she wants to lead.

I smile to myself, but then glance over my shoulder to start the countdown. “One.”

Cindy Lou is quick to respond as the oldest at six years old, wanting to set a good example for the littler ones. “Two.”

“Thwee,” Maisie says, standing tall. “Like me!” Her little girl giggle is adorably bright.

“Uhh.”

Cindy Lou’s voice drops down to a whisper, “Four. And you’re five.” I don’t need to look back to see who she’s bossing now.

“Four!” Luke’s and Shayanne’s little boy, Leo, pipes up, loud and proud. Every word out of his mouth is that way. He takes after his momma, something we’re all really proud of since he didn’t speak a word of English when he came home after his adoption was finalized.

Last but not least of my ducklings, Johnny adds, “Five. Right Cindy Lou?” He sounded certain there for a second, but wants to double check just to be sure.

I can’t hold the smile back anymore. Reaching for his little blond head, I ruffle his hair. He looks so much like Mark at his age, already serious and always straight-faced, watching the world around him with curiosity like he can catalogue everything he sees, smells, tastes, and experiences. “Yes, sir. Five is correct.”

Johnny smooths his hair down, wanting it back in place precisely. I don’t tell him that he just smeared some dirt along the blond strands. I quite like him a little messy and grimy, like a little boy on a ranch should be.

“Let’s get to it then, ducks. Quack, quack.” The basket of vegetables on my hip, I march in place. The stomp of feet behind me adds to the noise.

“Quack, quack!” they respond, and off we go. We march through the garden as I weave us this way and that, around the yard’s fence line, up the back stairs and finally, through the door into the kitchen.

“Quack, quack!” Our line is greeted by Shayanne in the kitchen. She’s got her new baby boy, Riley, on her hip, wrapped in a swath of fabric to keep him seated there. His chubby little legs kick and swing like he’s dancing along with her while she bags up jam for next week’s deliveries. “Hey Mama Duck and baby ducklings. You get the gardening done?”

Cindy Lou answers first again, “Yes ma’am. We’ve got zucchini for tonight’s casseroles and Mama Louise said I could help do the layers if I washed my hands. Even under my nails so we don’t get no dirt in it. Daddy says a little dirt never hurt, but she said it has germs in it.”

Shayanne’s laugh is loud enough that Riley startles, but then he laughs along with his mom. He might not understand what’s funny, but if his mom is happy, he’s happy. And vice versa. “Or maybe, they’re both right? Working and playing in the dirt is good, but we don’t eat it. Hit the sink and wash up.”

Cindy Lou does as she’s told, Maisie following right behind her, with Johnny overseeing them both though he’s younger. Leo goes the other direction, heading straight to his momma’s side to play with Riley’s toes. Riley jumps and kicks some more, reaching for Leo.

“Bub-ba, bub-ba, bub-ba,” he babbles happily.

I look around my kitchen, the hustle and bustle of little boots, tiny laughs, and a full house bringing fresh joy to my heart every single day. We’ve had a lot of changes and a bunch of additions in a short period of time, but each one has been such a blessing.

I set the basket onto a towel on the counter. Before I’ve even turned the water on, a chair pushes up next to me and Cindy Lou appears at my elbow. “Wash the zucchini gentle. Scrub the potatoes hard. No eating dirt.” She’s quoting someone, but I’m not sure who. Me? Shayanne? Sophie? James?

I boop her nose with a now-clean finger. “Good girl.” She gets to work, carefully washing the zucchini like she’s seen me do dozens of times. She really is a good girl – willing to pitch in, get dirty, and take care of animals. Smart as a whip too, already reading easy books to the little ones. I’ll miss her when school starts back up in a few weeks.

Maisie stands next to the chair, considering climbing up, so I distract her quickly.

“Maisie, Leo… can you take the forks and spoons to the table? One at each placemat, ‘kay? Work together.”

“Yes ma’am.”

They get to work and so do I. Shayanne switches to home mode, leaving her jam deliveries to corral kids so we can put dinner together. We get the basics all done, letting Cindy Lou layer the zucchini slices into the casserole dishes.

“Who wants to help with the salad?” I muse aloud.

“Me!” The same off-key chorus answers and I place a big bowl in the middle of the kid-sized table by the island. The little ones crowd around it, ready to tear lettuce to bits.

And slowly but surely, we get dinner prepared.

* * *

Buzzzz!

The timer goes off and I grab oven mitts to pull the casseroles out. One goes onto the center of the table on a trivet, and the other goes into a quilted carrying case Katelyn bought me for Christmas last year.

Just in time too because I hear a herd of buffalo coming up the back steps. Either that, or the rest of the family is home from the fields.

“I’m gettin’ your slice of apple pie tonight. Won it fair and square,” a deep voice bellows. Even through the door, I can hear the teasing tone as James gives Luke a hard time.

“The hell you are. My wife made the pie, therefore, I get as much as I want. Including your slice if I want, so you’d better watch it,” Luke taunts back.

Those two have been the same since the first day they raced each other to the barn and James beat Luke. John had laughed hard that night when he told me about it, predicting a life-long competition between those two and he’d been right. But it’s all in good fun. They’ll both get their own slice of pie tonight. The only person that could take it from them would be their women or their kids. A good husband and father will always give up their dessert and both of those men are amazing family men.

The back door opens and closes with a bang, then boots clomp and stomp into the kitchen. “Hey Mama! Shay! Kids!”

Squeals of delight echo around the room and suddenly toddlers are flying through the air as their dads pick them up and hug them tight. The low growls of tickling and the high-pitched laughter are the most beautiful sound I can imagine.

“Good evening, boys,” I tell the herd of buffalo. Yes, boys. They might all be over six feet tall and wide as a doorway, but they’re boys to me. The only one that technically still qualifies as a ‘boy’ is Cooper, though at sixteen now, he’s a solid foot taller than me, has put on muscle from all the summer work he’s been doing, and is still growing like a weed every day. “Everyone washed up?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The table fills up quickly, with spots left open for the few folks we’re still expecting. Allyson is working today – she’s got a mediation case in the morning and has been head-down to prepare.

“Mark, Katelyn coming?” He dips his chin in answer. Knowing him, he’s probably tracking her on his phone and knows exactly when she left work and where she’s at right this second.

“Bobby, Willow and Aspen?” He shrugs, but looks down at his phone to text Willow. She has a tendency to get lost in her photography and editing, and loses track of time. Especially when she’s taking pictures of their little girl, Aspen. She’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and I don’t say that lightly. She’s got Bobby’s black hair and tan complexion, but Willow’s delicate features and gray eyes, making her look like a dark pixie that is up to no good. She’ll be a heart-breaker, for sure.

“Brody, Rix?” He grunts a yes. A moment later, I can hear that Rix is home. The loud growl of her car can be heard from nearly the front gate to the house. Hopefully, Katelyn and Willow aren’t far behind.

“Sorry I’m late,” Rix calls from the front door. “Had to get the munchkin and you won’t believe what he did now-“ She comes into the kitchen, all eyes already on her, waiting to hear what her and Brody’s boy, Ford, has done now. He lives like his mother drives . . . pedal to the metal. Which is also why he stays with a sitter in town that can give him undivided attention during the day. That boy makes me laugh and I love him desperately, but he gives me heart palpitations with the way he charges through life. Though, on second thought, that might be from Brody. Poor thing, never had a chance at being a chill, laid back little guy with his mom and dad, I think with a happy buzz.

Brody takes the baby boy from Rix, smiling happily at the dark-haired, chubby-cheeked tot. That smile on Brody’s face is hard won and well deserved. It took some time and a lot of work, but he has his family settled down properly now, the way he always needed them to be. We work Bennett Ranch and Tannen Farm as a co-op now mostly, depending on each other and working together on every acre.

“You didn’t do anything, did’ya?” Brody coos to Ford. Yeah, I never thought I’d see the day Brody Tannen softened up enough to sweet-talk a baby, but he most definitely has.

Rix snorts ungracefully. “He caught the babysitter’s cat by the tail, managed to pull in close, and then hugged it so tight, he nearly squeezed it to death.”

Brody starts to laugh, but chokes it down, turning it into a cough when Rix glares daggers his way. Sophie tries to save him by asking, “Need me to stop by and check on the cat?”

“Not necessary,” Rix clips out to Sophie, eyes still shooting fire at Brody, who’s ducking into Ford’s cute little cheeks for cover. “He’s fine.” The implication that Ford and Brody are not is heavy in her tone.

“Dinner’s ready,” I say, saving them all, as Katelyn and Willow arrive.

Everyone sits around the table.

Mark at the head with Katelyn and Johnny on his right.

Luke and Shayanne, with Leo between them, and Riley in a high-chair beside Shayanne.

James and Sophie, with Cindy Lou and Maisie between them.

Brody and Rix, plus Ford’s high chair, where he’s banging his fists, demanding dinner.

Brutal and Cooper, with an open spot for Allyson.

Bobby and Willow, with daddy’s girl, Aspen, sitting by Bobby’s side.

And my chair at the other end of the table.

We’ve gotten full around this table, expanded it as we needed to and had a lot of good meals and great times here.

But tonight, I’ve got plans.

“Everyone set? Casserole’s there, salad’s there, and pie is on the counter. Don’t wait up.”

I press a kiss to the babies’ heads, pretending to gobble a veggie straw from Ford’s chubby hand, which makes him laugh. But he eyes me accusingly a second later, apparently upset that I ‘ate’ the food he offered me.

“Bye, Mama!”

“Bye, Mama Louise!”

Another loud chorus, and I leave my family for the night, trusting that they are all safe, happy, and healthy. And well-fed, of course. I couldn’t stand to go otherwise.

* * *

I pull into the driveway of the little blue house and honk my horn. Toot-toot-toooooot!

Turning off the engine, I get out and walk around to the passenger side as the front door opens. “If you want dinner, you’d best get out here and help me carry it in. You, casserole. You, salad. You, tea. I’ll get the pie because I don’t trust a single one of ya!”

The guys do as they’re told – Hank grabs the casserole, Doc gets the salad, and Richard picks up the pitcher of tea carefully. He’s gotten a little shaky lately, but so far, we’re pretending we haven’t noticed it, while keeping a close watch. That’s what friends do.

We find our way into the house and I make myself at home in Hank’s kitchen. Pulling plates from the cabinet, I set them on the table in the middle of the room. The men grab for glasses, silverware, and napkins. We’ve all done this dance enough Sundays in a row that it comes quick and easy to each of us, even though the room is barely big enough for one, much less four people, to move about.

We sit down, passing the food around and serving ourselves.

Hank takes a big whiff of the casserole. “Smells good, but I don’t trust ya. What’s in it?”

I quirk a wry brow at him. If he had his way, he’d eat nothing but meat and potatoes. Truth be told, only time he eats anything else is when Ilene feeds him at the bar or on the Sundays it’s my turn to feed our ‘book club’. “Meat, cheese, tomato sauce. It’s lasagna, with a kick.” I turn to Doc, who has no qualms with tossing anything I bring into his belly, and stage-whisper, “The kick is the zucchini from my garden. Greens are good for you.”

Hank narrows his eyes at his plate. “Vegetables? That ain’t fried in butter?” He makes it sound like I’m trying to kill him. I might, if he doesn’t hush and eat his dinner.

“No pie unless you eat your dinner. Zucchini and salad both.”

Doc and Richard are digging in already, no need to coax them, and grudgingly, Hank eats too. I notice that though his first bites are hesitant, he’s soon shoveling it in. I’m glad to see it. He had a scare a few years back, but we don’t talk about that. He’s been fit as a fiddle ever since, but I worry about him, especially since he’s been slowing down more lately. That’s hard on a man’s pride and I don’t want him wallowing in self-pity over it.

So I side-step in to checking on him, careful with my words and tone. “How’s Olivia doing at the bar?”

He snorts, which makes it sound like she’s not doing all that well, but I know better. That girl is good as gold and a life-saver for Hank. “She’s fine. Taken on managing the bar well enough, I reckon. I tell you that her and Hannah are talking about having a baby?”

I shake my head, smiling. “No, you did not. Good for them. They’ll be good mommas. Olivia gonna keep working?” Slow and steady, Louise.

Hank isn’t fooled in the least. “Yes, so you can quit’cher worrying about me. I’m fine. Doing bar shifts when I want to, going fishing when I want, and watching a ball game when I feel like it. Instead of messing around in my business, we should be talking about Doc retiring.”

Eyes turn to Doc. He pats his now-full belly, unconcerned. “Ain’t no need to talk about it because it ain’t happening. Sophie does all the hard work now, running all over the county, while I sit back and let the critters come to me in the office. No sense in retiring when I’m living on Easy Street. Hardest thing I do is give that talk at the university once a year and I’ve got at least a few more of those in me.”

Doc loves giving that talk, playing up the country doctor schtick and quizzing the new students so hard that they question if veterinary medicine is right for them. But the ones who stay, they’re the ones that count. Like Sophie. She’s good with animals, and with people, so she takes good care of Doc and their veterinary practice.

I turn my sights to Richard, who holds his hands up. I measure their shake, but they’re steady as can be right now. “Don’t aim your interest over here, Louise. I’m doing fine, going to see my son and the grandkids next month after I finish this quarter’s checks.” Richard is a business savant, or so he likes to call himself. He owns several properties around Great Falls, both residential and commercial, and all he does is make sure his tenants aren’t having any problems and the checks clear. It’s a pretty cushy job that lets him go visit his son as often as possible. “Let’s talk about you instead. Give us the full run-down.”

“Yeah,” Hank turns sharp blue eyes my way, his hand slapping down on the table to emphasize his point.

I brush my hair over my shoulder, knowing exactly what they want. Ornery as can be, I don’t give it to them. Instead, I casually say, “Oh, the garden’s doing quite well. Harvested three zucchinis today, in fact.” I look pointedly at the casserole in the middle of the table.

“Shut up about the garden, Louise, and tell us about those kids.” Hank’s grumpy game can top even my boys when he gets his feathers ruffled, so I guess that’s as much of a hard time as I can give these guys today.

“Fine,” I snap with a glare I don’t mean. But I do delay long enough to eat a big bite of apple pie, chewing thoughtfully. “They’re all good as can be. Bobby and Willow are home for a while again after the most recent tour. He says he’s working on another album, so they’ll be here for a while. Bobby slipped right back into working with Bruce and Cooper, though it’s funny as can be to listen to Cooper schooling Bobby on trees Bobby planted himself years ago. Nature of being gone,” I say with a shrug. Though they can all hear me just fine, I drop my voice to confide, “I’m hoping they’ll give me another grandbaby while they’re here. I think everyone else’s little family is complete and Aspen’s old enough to be a big sister now.”

“Your mouth to God’s ears,” Hank agrees. I know he spends as much time with Aspen as I do, taking her on fishing trips and to get ice cream as often as possible. He’s definitely the ‘cool uncle’ Willow told me he was for her with the next generation of their family. “The world could use another tree, that’s for sure.” His joke about Willow naming her daughter after a tree is long-running, apparently something he gave Carrie a hard time about too.

We all crack up at the joke, even though it’s not that funny. Hank’s laugh turns into a cough, and he waves off our worries, leaving me to laugh even harder. My eyes tear up, “Oh no, what do you think they’ll go with this time? Elm? Maple? Birch?”

“Magnolia wouldn’t be bad,” Doc suggests. He’s right, that’s probably our best hope. As long as this imaginary baby is a girl.

Eventually, we laugh ourselves out and push the plates off to the side to get down to business. “All right, fellas. I’m dealing.”

“You ain’t dealing nothing, Louise. My house, my rules, so I deal first,” Hank argues as he picks up the deck of cards.

He expertly shuffles and throws the cards around the table to each of us as we ante up for our first hand. I peek at my two cards and knock on the table. Doc and Richard eye me, but follow suit with knocks of their own. Hank doesn’t play that way – conservative isn’t his style, he’s aggressive from the get-go – so he throws a quarter in. “What’s with all this tip-toeing around? We here to play cards or what?”

I roll my eyes like the long-suffering woman I’m not and throw my quarter in begrudgingly. Or at least it seems like I’m unsure.

By the time the river is dealt, I’ve got a decent hand. My three kings with a jack-high would probably take the pot, but no sense is winning the battle to lose the war.

“Louise?” Richard prompts me.

“Fold.” I toss my cards into the muck since I don’t have to show them and let the guys make their wagers.

Hank pushes again and Richard folds too. When it’s Doc versus Hank, they showdown and Hank wins with a pair of tens. I would’ve thought he had higher, but he’s got a good bluff so you never know.

I let it go like that a few more hands – Hank taking another two and Richard winning one. I reel them in patiently.

By the fifth hand, I’m feeling good, and though my best hand is only a pair of eights, I bet big for our group, throwing in three dollars. Here little fishie…

I play that one through, losing the money but setting the tone.

The next hand, I win, pulling ten bucks from the pot. Then, six dollars.

I let the next one go, not wanting to be too obvious.

We play like that all evening – giving each other a hard time, catching up and chatting about everything and nothing, and eventually, we do even talk about the book we’re reading as a group. This one was Hank’s choice, so it’s a classic Louis L’Amour western. It’s a good one, but not my favorite genre. Doc prefers science fiction, so he can dissect the science of it, and Richard likes suspenseful thrillers. I like to make the guys read romance novels, because anything that can make old men blush like pubescent teenagers makes me giggle like a school girl myself. But we occasionally throw in best sellers that we’ll all enjoy. I figure we’ve all got plenty of time to read through a library’s worth of pages. At least that’s what I’m hoping if we keep looking out for each other.

By the end of the night, we’ve all won a few hands and lost a few. I’m thirty bucks up, but more importantly, I’m three friends richer.

We say our good-byes, reminding Hank that it’s his turn to provide dinner next Sunday so he’d best get his order in with Ilene early, and then we head home. I let the guys take home the leftover casserole, salad, and pie, knowing that they’ll eat better tomorrow for it.

* * *

At home, I find that the kids left the kitchen light on. But the kitchen itself is spic and span, all cleaned up after family dinner. I go over to the sink to get a glass of water to take my vitamins and see a note on the counter.

Took dinner and pie to Allyson so she wouldn’t starve. Left you a slice in the fridge too. Hope book club was fun. – B

With a smile, I open the fridge. Bruce did leave me a slice – a tiny sliver that’s just right for a midnight snack. All my boys and girls are caretakers. We look after each other, help each other, and we’re a team as much as a family.

I’m a lucky woman.

I decide to take my tiny piece of pie outside to the porch, sitting in the moonlight where I can see the tree in the front yard.

“Hey John, you won’t believe what Ford did today. But first, you think you could do me a favor?”

I wait a heartbeat, giving him time to quirk his brows in my mind. I can almost hear him saying, “Woman, what are you up to now?”

“I think Aspen could use a little brother or sister, don’t you?”

The wind blows, the tree branches swaying in answer.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

And with that, I eat my slice of pie. In my head, I go over today, finding moments of joy and happiness to relive with John. He’s not here, not really, but he’s in my heart. Even after all these years. I think he’d be proud of the family men his boys have become and the way our family has grown.

I know I am.

I yawn once, and know that means the sun rise is going to come too soon, so I go inside and get ready for bed. I lay down on my side of the bed, on the far side, away from the door. I smile into the darkness one time – or at least I think I do, but I fall asleep so quickly, that I can’t be sure.

But I know there will be more smiles, more little ducks lined up behind me, more boot stomping, and more love . . . tomorrow.

Chapter 1

Erica

“Holy fuck! How many strings did Katelyn pull to get us this room?” I look around the resort suite, with white velvet drapes that reach from the plush carpet to the vaulted ceiling, fluffy bedding on a king-sized bed, and a homey brown leather couch with faux-fur pillows. Through the panoramic window, the mountain overlooks smaller peaks and the town of Great Falls.

“Hell if I know, but something tells me she’s gonna lord it over our heads for a long time to come.” Brody says it on a small laugh, as if he’s joking, but looking around at the fancy cabin-chic room, he’s probably right.

When Brody and I first started talking about a weekend staycation, Katelyn insisted on helping us. Since we planned on staying at the only resort in town, it seemed like a sweet thing for her to do. But she outdid herself. This room must be the honeymoon or presidential suite, because it’s fancier than anything I’ve ever stepped foot in for sure.

Now, I wonder if she had more on her mind that a fun getaway from the overrun of people and lack of privacy in Brody’s house. Maybe she knows something I don’t?

Shit. Fuck. Damn.

Brody drops the two bags he insisted on carrying himself, though I’m perfectly capable, and takes a running leap to fall back on the bed, sending a shower of pillows to the floor. “Ahhh, I could get used to this.”

I knee at his ankle. “Not likely, Cowboy. Get your dirty boots off the bed.” They’re not his work boots, so I’m just giving him shit, but still, I expect him to toe them off and let them fall to the floor the way he usually does. Instead, he lifts his legs in the air.

“How’s this?”

I try to frown, but that cocky smirk of his gets me the way it always does. “Impressive. Maybe we can use that position later.”

His feet fall to the floor and the rest of him follows to stand. His face pinches, “Fuck no. Your legs go in the air, not mine.” His hands find my waist and he draws me in tight, turning us. Suddenly, he lifts me and tosses me back on the bad, my legs going askew. “See? That’s much better.”

He climbs on the bed after me, stalking me even though I haven’t moved in the slightest. He leans down slowly, shoulders bunching under his T-shirt and dark eyes locked on mine, to meet my lips with his own. I’ve kissed him hundreds of times by now, but every time, I’m surprised by the fresh hunger I find in him. It matches my own perfectly. I moan into the kiss and he curses against my lips.

“Fuck, Lil Bit.”

I reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling at it. Brody drops to a knee, yanking the fabric over his head with one hand and tossing it to the floor. I pull him to me, wanting his weight to pin me down. My nails scrape along the muscles of his back and my knees bend to cradle his hips.

He nudges my jaw with his nose, guiding me to turn my head to the side, and peppers kisses and nibbles along the line of my neck.

“What time is our dinner reservation?” I gasp out. I don’t really care in this moment, but the responsible thread inside me would feel bad if we missed it after all the trouble Katelyn went through.

“Seven. We have hours to do filthy things to each other, and still have time to get cleaned up for dinner.” The words are murmured against my skin between licks and sucking kisses as his hand traces up my side, pushing my T-shirt higher. “Mmm. Gorgeous.”

His gaze locks on my breasts a moment before his mouth does. I arch, wanting more. Wanting everything.

I kick my sandals off, not wanting them on the bed either and wrap my legs around him. It’s still not enough. “More. Get naked.”

He pops off my nipple and gives me that arrogant grin. He knows I want him, I never hide that. But he doesn’t hide how much he wants me either, and even if he tried, the thick ridge of his cock would give him away.

He pushes off the bed to stand, hands immediately going to the button of his jeans the same way mine go to my shorts. I don’t want a slow and sexy striptease, I want him naked and inside me… now. My clothes go flying – I’m faster than he is because of his boots. By the time he steps out of his jeans, my hands are already buried between my legs.

“Show me,” he growls.

I drop my knees wide, letting him see everything as my finger circles my clit. I dip inside myself, gathering the wetness and holding my fingers up for Brody. He licks them clean and directs them back to my pussy. He watches for a moment, his hand absently stroking his hard length.

“Keep going.”

I do as he says, my fingers teasing myself as he slips one, and then two fingers inside me. It’s not the same as his cock stretching me, but it is more and that’s enough to make me groan in pleasure.

My hips curl, fucking his fingers while he slides in and out of me. He gains speed and power, and I lose the rhythm, thrashing and bucking randomly as I get close to coming. “Brody!” On the edge, I cry out, not sure I can take much more.

But then I fly apart. White sparks dot my vision behind my closed lids. While I’m still soaring, Brody slams into me deep and hard, and I come again. Or still?

My ankles on his shoulders and his jaw clenched, he somehow still finds the mental capacity to give me shit. “Definitely better with your feet in the air.”

Later, I’ll be able to think of a witty comeback. Now, I grip the edge of the bed for leverage, impaling myself with Brody’s every thrust. His hands dig into the flesh of my hips, pulling me toward him as we fuck each other.

I’ve never experienced anything like sex with Brody. He can be absolutely fucking me senseless, but I always feel loved and fulfilled. With him, whether slow and gentle or rough and wild, there’s such a thread of care. It’s the same with our relationship. He’s shown me that I can be myself, truly and authentically. He wants me when I’m hard and bossy, he’s kind when I’m soft and needy, and I do the same for him. We’ve become each other’s home, our soft place to fall and just… be.

It’s everything I knew love could be. He is everything I knew it could be.

“Come again. Make that pretty pussy suck me off.” He expertly strums my clit with his thumb, getting me there quickly.

“Fuck… now.” I grit out the words but never lose eye contact with Brody, who’s watching me hungrily.

A moment later, his brow furrows before his head falls back and he grunts. “Erica!” I feel the heat of his cum fill me as he holds deep, pumping in short strokes.

Gasping for air, we float back to reality. I smile lazily, “Guess what they say about hotel sex is true.”

One of Brody’s dark brows quirks in question.

“It’s the best,” I explain, as if that’s common knowledge. It is, isn’t it?

Stepping away from the day-to-day of normal life, and into a place where you can be anyone and do anything, allows for a level of relaxation and freedom you don’t usually find at home. At least, not when your boyfriend still lives with his siblings. Though we make damn good use of the privacy at my apartment.

“Hell, woman, if you thought that was the best, I’m gonna damn near kill you tonight. Because I’ve got plans for this body.” His callused hands run down my legs to cup my ass. “That was just a warm-up.”

Cocky bastard.

Good thing he can back it up. But that doesn’t mean I let him off easy. “If you say so. But if you fall into a food coma or get whiskey dick after dinner, just know I won’t hold it against you.”

He snorts sarcastically because that’s a bold-faced lie and we both know it. Our staycation plan for this weekend is basically to fuck, eat, sleep, and repeat, with zero worries about anything else. Off limit topics include: the shop, the ranch, cars, animals, and family. This weekend is just for us.

Soft and spent, Brody leaves me to grab a towel. After a quick clean-up, we laze about in the bed, snuggled into each other. I trace the tattoo on his arm with light fingertips, while his hop from freckle to freckle along my hip and thigh. I think it’s funny that something I was teased for and hated for so much of my young life has become one of my favorite things. My freckles make me unique, well, other than that Emily has the same ones. But when Brody kisses them, I’m thankful for each and every one that dot my skin.

“I like this,” he says quietly.

It feels like there’s more he wants to say, so I just nod. After two heartbeats of silence, I agree. “Me too.”

I feel his smile against my hair, but I think there’s more going on in my cowboy’s mind than he’s letting on. His chest vibrates beneath my cheek as he hums, letting me know I’m right. It’s a habit of his, but I don’t even know if he’s aware he does it. Humming means thinking. I’m curious, but I can wait… a bit, though I’m not known for my patience.

“We should get dressed soon,” he says after a while, looking at the clock. I sigh happily, stretching my arms overhead and my legs out long.

Already naked, we take a leisurely shower, taking time to soap each other up really well. Brody pulls at the length of my hair, and I dip my head back under the spray, letting him wash the conditioner out. We dry off and start getting ready for dinner.

Naked as the day I was born, I stand in front of the mirror to brush my hair and put on the mascara and lip gloss Emily talked me into. As I blow-dry my hair, I feel eyes on me.

Brody is quick to get ready, only having to run his fingers through his hair and pull on clothes to look amazing, so he’s sitting on the leather couch and watching me raptly.

I meet his gaze in the mirror and his lips tilt up. “Hey,” I say curiously.

“Hey,” he says back, his voice low and full of gravel.

“You good?” I ask. If I had to label it, I’d say he looks… nervous. But I can’t think of a single thing in the whole wide world that could possibly make Brody Michael Tannen nervous.

“Yep,” he answers, scratching at his lip with his thumb.

That’s a no then.

I blink, feeling a lot less patient and a lot nosier now.

I pull on black lace panties, still bikinis even though Em tried to talk me into a thong, but I cannot fathom how a string between your ass cheeks is supposed to not feel like the worst wedgie ever, and then step into my dress. I found this one all on my own, knowing Brody would love it and that I loved it too. It’s a simple black sheath in the softest cotton with a single shoulder tie made out of sheer black fabric that reminds me of a vintage scarf. The best part? One undone bow and the whole thing will fall to the floor.

Nothing says ‘romantic dinner dress’ like easy access, I think with a slight smile.

“Ready?” I say, turning in my borrowed heels.

Brody’s jaw drops open as he stands. “You look stunning.”

I laugh lightly, “You just watched me get ready. Don’t look so shocked.”

He offers his arm. “Just realizing again what a lucky fucker I am to have you by my side tonight.” I don’t think he means just my fancy dress.

I look him up and down as I take his elbow. “Have you seen your ass in these pants?” I lean back to peek before meeting his eyes. “Feeling preeeetty lucky myself.” I don’t mean only his body either.

We’re both lucky – to have weathered some storms on our own and together, and to have found safe haven in each other’s battered and untrusting hearts, our rough edges wearing away at each other until they fit together perfectly.

Chapter 2

Brody

The elevator doors close and our reflection stares back at me. Months ago, Shay had said we looked like Tom and Jerry, this tiny mouse leading the big, grumpy cat around by his tail. She’d meant my dick, and at the time, it’d mostly been true. But since then, Erica has been leading me around by something much more dangerous.

My heart.

And that’s scary as fuck.

Even if not having her by my side is an even scarier proposition. Who knew I was a ‘fraidy cat all along? Certainly not me.

But I am. I live with a tiny seed of fear deep in my gut, a worry that I’ll fuck this up, which is the last thing I want. Because this is good. We’re good. And I’m a dumb fuck with no idea what I’m doing.

Obviously, I think.

Downstairs, we bypass the bar where I got confused so long ago, and head to the resort’s restaurant. It’s full of dark-wood paneling, white tablecloths, plush carpeting and dim chandeliers.

The suited maître d’ leads us to a table in the back, private and romantic. I pull Erica’s chair out and she drops into it, prim and proper. I smile at the idea of both of us trying so hard to be fancy and fit in with this frou-frou crowd when we’re more pizza and beer on the couch types.

I sit too and the maître d’ dips his chin before disappearing. I look down at the table, which is set with a large gold plate and surrounded by more silverware than Cooper uses to set Mama Louise’s whole table for family dinner. And that’s just on my side. Erica’s got another set of silverware on her side too.

I confess across the candlelight. “I have no idea why we need so many utensils just to eat dinner.”

Erica shrugs, but fingers a small spoon on the edge of her setting. “Me neither, so I won’t be offended if you use the wrong one. Hell, I won’t even know.”

“Thank fuck.” I can dress up, but I’m still a rough cowboy through and through.

The waiter comes by, popping a cork on a bottle of champagne and pouring two glasses while Erica and I look at each other in confusion.

“Compliments of Mrs. Bennett. She also took the liberty of having the chef plan your meal, but if you’d prefer, I can list our evening’s specials.”

What. The. Fuck. Is. Katelyn. Up. To?

Erica’s eyes are wide and horrified, looking from the glass of bubbly champagne to me to the waiter.

I take a deep breath. “Look, I appreciate whatever Katelyn arranged. We both do.” I reach across the table, taking Erica’s hand. “But we’re not really fancy people. Can we get your best steaks, medium-rare, a potato of some sort, whatever vegetables you recommend, and a couple of beers?”

The waiter blinks. Actually, maybe his eyes are twitching. “Of course, sir.” He disappears to the back, and I’m sure he’s laughing his ass off at the redneck who ordered beer over champagne, and steak over whatever fancy shit the chef prepared.

Katelyn laughs. “Oh my god! That was hilarious. I think he might’ve had a small aneurysm right there in front of us.”

“Hope I didn’t scar the poor guy,” I say dryly. “But I’m a simple man with simple tastes. And we’re gonna need our strength for tonight.”

“Promise?” Heat blooms in Erica’s eyes and the flecks of gold are fire, not candlelight.

“Fuck yes,” I growl.

The waiter interrupts our eye-fuck, reappearing with two glasses of dark amber liquid. “Would you like for me to remove the champagne?” he asks blank-faced.

“Yeah, but if Katelyn asks, we drank the whole bottle and loved it. Got it?” When the waiter nods, I add, “Enjoy it yourself.”

He smiles warmly at that and takes it away, ice bucket and all.

Alone at last, I raise my glass for a toast. “To us.”

Erica clinks her glass to mine, “To us.”

We sip the beers, talking about this and that, but I can feel the pressure strangling me again when Erica mentions Emily and Dan, who are recently engaged after a whirlwind romance.

“I think Emily might end up eloping, to be honest. After her years of talk about fairy tale weddings and cupcake gowns, she told me that she’s just ready to be Dr. and Mrs. Daniel Deardon. I swear to God, she actually said the words, ‘I want to be married, not have a wedding’. Can you believe that? Guess he really was The One this time.”

“Good for them,” I say carefully.

Erica frowns. “Sorry, family is off-limits. I forgot the rules.” She waves her hand through the air as though she can wipe away the last few minutes of conversation. My gut begs to differ.

The rules were more a light joke than anything, a declaration of our intention to be together without the busy-ness of both of our lives interfering.

“It’s okay. Actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you about…” I trail off, swallowing thickly. I pause, taking a long drink of my beer for a little liquid courage.

Man up, Tannen. Just say it.

“Brody? You’re freaking me out.” Erica’s brows lift and she reaches across the table to take my hand, rubbing soothing circles on the skin between my thumb and index finger. “Just say it, whatever it is.” The sentiment is strong, even if her voice sounds a little wavery.

Badass, face shit head-on girl. I want to be as tough as she is, so I gather up my balls and dive in.

“I suck at this stuff,” I gesture from her to me. “And I didn’t really think about what this whole fancy weekend away would seem like until the girls were giving me shit. Even then, I blew it off as their usual meddling. It wasn’t until the guys said something, and then Mama Louise too. I just didn’t…” I pause when I see the confusion still written on Erica’s face.

“I love you. You know that, right?” I ask, trying to start again. “I love you more than anything, and want to wake up with you every morning and go to sleep every night with you. I want hear about the crazy shit you do with cars even when I don’t understand a word because you look so happy and excited about it. I want to see you hold a baby goat again, and maybe even our own baby one day. I want to do all those things with you because I love you so much. You are my future.”

She’s crying, tiny tears leaking from the corners of her eyes to track down her face and I think I’m fucking this up. I’m trying so hard not to, but I am.

“Brody?” she whispers.

“This weekend…” I say slowly, “I just wanted us to get away together. I’m not…” I sigh heavily, hoping I haven’t ruined everything. “I’m not proposing this weekend.”

There’s a moment of complete and utter stillness. Time stops, breath stops, my heart stops.

“Okayyy,” she drawls out.

I rush to reassure her. “I will… one day. When I have something to offer you, when we’re ready, when…”

She cuts me off. “Brody, I didn’t think you were going to propose this weekend. Or at least I didn’t until you started saying all that stuff.” She looks confused, but not mad. If anything, I think she looks relieved?

“You didn’t? They all said it was obvious and you’d be disappointed if I didn’t.” I’m trying to explain, but my brain is fuzzy with snippets of the lectures from my family, Tannens and Bennetts alike. “Even Cooper said you’d want a big, sparkly diamond.”

She grins at me, fighting back laughter. “You’re taking relationship advice from pre-teens now?”

I blink, and then blink again. And laughter bursts out, deep chuckles that tell me I haven’t done this in way too long. “Oh fuck, I think I am. How pitiful does that make me?”

Erica giggles along with me, wiping the tears away, which are now from the belly laughs she could no longer contain. “I think it’s pretty adorable actually.”

“You really didn’t think that?” I ask, making double-sure I’m not still fucking up. She shakes her head. “I’m gonna kill them all. Still up in my business and trying to tell me this, get me to do that. They had me so fucking messed up. I’ve been nervous for days, trying to figure out how to tell you that.” Exasperation washes through my body and I sag, not realizing until just now how much tension I’d been holding over this.

“Maybe don’t kill them yet. We’ll need them to help with the wedding…” she pauses dramatically, a light gleaming in her eyes, “when we have one. Later.”

I meet her eyes, feeling bold now that she’s reassured me that we’re okay how we are. “When we have one,” I agree.

“Did you mean all that stuff?” Erica asks quietly.

I don’t need to ask ‘what stuff’, I know exactly what she means. “Every word. I love you. You are my future, and I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of every single day we get.”

“I love you too. And you don’t need anything more to offer than what you have right now, your heart. That’s all I ask for.”

“You have it. Fucked up and scarred as it might be, it’s yours,” I grit out honestly.

“Mine’s yours too. Fucked up and cynical as it is.”

The silence this time is full of promises and understanding — of where we are, of who we are, and of where we’re going. Together.

Two fuck ups who managed to find each other and fall madly in love.

The waiter interrupts, presenting two plates with a flourish. “Filet mignon, pomme frites, and haricots verts.” He sets them in front of us with a smile. “Bon appetit.”

I look down. “Looks like steak, French fries, and green beans to me.”

“People can call it whatever they want, we know what it is.”

She winks with a smile, and I think that sounds pretty accurate and a damn good way to tell my family and hers, because I know Emily would love a twin wedding, to shut the fuck up

about us.

Because we’re good.

“Eat up, Cowboy. You’re gonna need some strength for all the things I’m gonna do to you this weekend. We should probably go ahead and order room service pancakes for breakfast too.”

Fuck, yes. I love this badass, ball-busting, filthy-mouthed, speed demon woman who is kind at heart, loves big and deep, and with a ferocity not many could handle.

But I can.

“Yes ma’am,” I bark, ready to get this show on the road.

* * *

Dinner was probably delicious, and that’s exactly what we’ll tell Katelyn later, but the truth is, I don’t remember a thing other than shoveling it in as fast as possible with zero fucks given to what fork I was using. It didn’t matter in the end since we had the one course and bailed upstairs.

I open the door to our room, shoving Erica inside but she spins. Hands on my chest, she walks backwards toward the bed, pulling me with her by my shirt as the door shuts and locks behind us. She pulls my shirt up and I help her get me naked since that seems to be her goal. Standing in front of her with nothing on while she’s fully dressed in her dress and heels feels wrong, but so damn right at the same time.

“Lay down,” she orders, pushing me toward the bed. It seems like a damn fine time to follow orders, so I do. Lying back and propped on my elbows, I have a perfect view as she reaches for the tie at her shoulder. With one pull, the dress drops.

“Holy fuck,” I whisper. Each and every time I see her nude, I’m awed by how beautiful she is and that she wants… me.

Erica climbs on the bed, kneeling over me to face my feet. “Room’s got a pretty good view, huh?”

I pop her cheek, “Smart ass.”

She laughs as she lowers down, taking me in her mouth. She knows the sight of her ass and pussy, just out of my tongue’s reach, drives me wild and the addition of the heels she kept on, a rare thing for her, makes it even more special this time.

Too fast, I can feel myself getting close to the edge. “Ride me, Erica.”

She lifts up, lining up with my cock as I prop up against the headboard pillows. She sinks onto me, pulling a groan from us both. I grab a handful of her hair, holding it out of the way so I can watch her take me.

When she arches, leaning back, I can see her reflection in the bathroom mirror across the room. She’s amazing, lost in pleasure, lost in us.

Just like I am.

Mark was right. This could’ve never been casual and I was a fool for thinking it could be. Because I love Erica with everything I am, and one day, when we’re both ready, I’ll give her my last name too.

But not tonight.

We don’t need that to know what we have in each other.

And together, we fall again, trusting that we’ll always be there to catch each other

Chapter 1

Bruce – About A Year Later

After so many years of feeling like life’s punching bag, it’s amazing how fast things can turn around for me. I finally got the girl, the family, the house, and the land, even if it’s just the couple acres I bought back from Mama Louise. I’m the luckiest fucker that ever lived.

Well, other than Brody. He’s pretty damn lucky his shit worked out too, but I ain’t thinking about him right now. Nope, after all these years of worrying about my family, I’m letting them live their own lives, loved but not clung to. I’m focusing on my lottery-winning dream of a life.

I may not have a bank account with a bonus comma in it, but I am so damn rich… in love. And from love, in life. And family. A new family, the one I’ve dreamed about and is now by some miracle mine.

I stretch out in bed, not the least bit ashamed that instead of sandpaper thread count discount store sheets that I can see my leg hairs through, I’m wallowing like a pig in slop on luxurious Egyptian cotton now. Only the best for Al, and I get the benefits by default. The sun is already high in the sky and I can’t remember the last time I slept past sunrise, but today is a special day.

It’s our anniversary.

Not of our wedding, though that day was perfect with Katelyn helping Allyson get everything just right. I look around our bedroom, remembering that day.

We’d waited until the spring when the ground thawed and the construction crew could start building this house. And when they’d had only the foundation down, not even a stick of lumber for walls, we’d told them to give us a couple of weeks. Right there on the foundation of our home, we began the foundation of our marriage by exchanging vows.

I chuckle at how people react when Allyson tells them that. Faces tend to get all scrunched like they smell a nasty fart, or confusion at why we’d do something so weird when we could’ve easily had the wedding at the resort where Katelyn is the Event Planner.

But it was beautiful and what Allyson wanted, and what my girl wants, she gets. Katelyn was fully on board, Mama Louise said she knew a few tricks she could use to help out, and that was that. Of course I agreed, it felt special to her because it did to me too.

Katelyn had coordinated the Bennett boys and my brothers to lay out rugs over the plywood subfloor, build an antique door with curtains and flowers as our ceremony backdrop, and set up a mish-mash of chairs for our small gathering of witnesses. And as the sun set over the land around our new home, we’d had our perfect start, a new beginning to a life that I love.

But though the happy thoughts feel good washing through me, today’s not our wedding anniversary. It’s something much more important.

No, today is the anniversary of the first date we went on in high school. A lifetime ago, but an important piece of our twisted and rough journey to today.

Usually, I’d be all over planning something for Al, maybe even something for the three of us to do. Cooper loves to be my wingman and help me figure out fun things that’ll make his mom smile, though I think he might be the one that prefers the muddin’ trips he suggests, not Allyson.

But this time, she’d told me to leave it all to her.

So that’s how I’ve started the day sleeping in past sunrise – she got all my chores covered by the other guys. I grin, knowing that while I’ve been snoozing, they’re hours in to the day’s work. One more stretch and a scratch to my balls, and I make a move to sit upright.

Where is Al anyways? If I was the one planning today’s activities, they damn sure would’ve started with her coming on my cock, but her side of the bed is empty and cool. With a couple of blinks, I wake fully and realize I need to piss. After a quick trip to our bathroom, attached to our bedroom like we’re fancy shit, I pull on loose boxers to track down my wife.

As soon as I open our bedroom door, I can hear music playing softly and Allyson humming to the tune. I sneak down the hall, no easy feat for a big fucker like me, and peek around the doorway.

She’s swaying in her cotton nightgown, not exactly dancing but just letting the music move through her as she… packs a backpack?

What is she up to?

I almost ask the question out loud, but I grit my teeth to keep my mouth shut and enjoy the show. I don’t know the song, but it’s something bluesy and it apparently makes Allyson feel like hip-bumping her way towards the pantry, then body-rolling her way back to the backpack. I’m so hypnotized by her ass that I miss whatever treat she packed for us.

But I don’t miss my chance to push her up against the counter, my rock-hard cock pressed to the cradle of her ass. “Good morning, Mrs. Tannen.”

She grinds back against me. “Good morning, Mr. Tannen. Sleep well?”

I nip at her ear then soothe the bite with a sucking kiss. Sleep well? Always. But now I want more, so I whisper hotly in her ear. “I did. Right up until I woke up alone and hard, without my wife’s wet pussy to slip into for a proper wake up.”

She looks over her shoulder, bottom lip caught in her teeth and flames licking in her eyes. I’m not a pretty man, especially not first thing in the morning with a muss of bedhead, prickly beard hair going every which way, and bad breath. Allyson never gives a fuck, always looking at me like she wants to climb me like a ten-foot pole and wrap her legs around my head till I suffocate, which sounds like a fine fucking plan to me anytime. Of course, I feel the same way about her. She’s sexy in whatever she wants to wear, whether she’s gussied up for a night out, prim and professional for work, filthy from chores around the farm, or my favorite, this look right here. Hair half-up and half-down, sleepy eyes, bare faced, and begging for me to fuck her without saying a damn word.

“Well, wakey-wakey.” Intention drips from the words.

“Where’s Cooper?” I growl darkly. As much as I’d like to, I’m not gonna fuck her right here in the kitchen if there’s a chance Cooper’s in the next room watching television or might wake up and decide to grab some cereal for breakfast. I love the kid, and don’t want to scar him by railing his mom somewhere we might get caught.

“With Shay, milking goats.”

She doesn’t even have the words out before I’m shoving my boxers down with one hand and lifting her nightgown up with the other. “Goddamn, Al. You’re not wearing panties. Bend over so I can get inside you.”

She lifts to her toes, laying her chest to the counter we picked out together. I can see the smile on her face even as her brow twists with need. My little minx planned this part of our day too, I think.

“Please, Bruce… fuck me.”

But two can play this game. I don’t slip inside her, as much as I want to. Instead, I drop to my knees, placing a hand on her lower back to keep her still. My other hand runs from her ankle to her ass, kneading and rubbing as I press kisses along the backs of her thighs. I let my breath whisper against her core. “You want me to fuck this pussy, baby? You want my cock right here? Or maybe…?” I let the question taper off as I lick a long line through her slit.

Her cry of pleasure is my favorite song, the one I want to hear every single day for the rest of my life. Her legs spread further apart, giving me access as she bucks her hips back for more.

I grab her cheeks in both hands, my face buried in her as I fuck her with my tongue. She tastes so sweet and earthy, all at the same time, and I want to drown in her honey. But I replace my tongue with one of my thick fingers, finding that grooved spot I know drives her wild, and lick the nub of her clit. Faster and harder I work her body, knowing just what she needs. Not that she’s shy about telling me.

She’s keening loudly, mewling and moaning. “Oh my god, Bruce. Yes, right there… fuuuuck…” In a long cry, she detonates, shaking and quivering as she comes gloriously.

She’s still panting when I stand up behind her. “Hang on, Al.”

Her noodle arms move, her hands going to the edge of the counter and with my hands on her hips, I shove into her in one harsh thrust, bottoming out deep inside her. She hisses, walking that line of pleasure and pain, and I watch her carefully as I fuck her raw and rough. “That’s it, take all of me. Take my cock, baby.”

I can feel her velvety walls gripping me tight, milking me like her pussy’s hungry for my cum. I slam into her, pulling and pushing her hips with my every stroke, both fucking her and making her fuck me back. My tough girl can take it though, she likes us wild and reckless as much as she likes it soft and sweet.

“Come again.” The demand is an order, and though she thrashes her head back and forth, trying to tell me no, her body is primed and on the edge. I strum her clit once and she explodes again, her hips going wild as she fucks me and cries out in pleasure. I hang on, trying to stay deep inside her to feel the spasms of her walls against my cock and with that tight squeeze, I shatter too, pumping out rope after rope of sticky cum. “Fuck, Al. Yessss…”

She collapses against the counter, me holding her up with my hips, still impaled inside her. Laying soft kisses across her shoulder blade and down her spine, my words murmur against her skin. “Good morning, baby.”

Her cheek is pressed to the counter, making her look a little like a sexy chipmunk and she mumbles something that vaguely sounds like ‘good morning’ back. I can’t help but chuckle, but I also playfully smack her ass in warning and to keep her from drifting off. “No napping. Whatcha got planned for us today?”

I know I sound like a kid in a candy store, asking for one of everything, but I’m genuinely curious what she’s got up her sleeve.

She sighs dreamily and rallies, her palms pressing to the counter to help her lift up. She twists, looking over her shoulder at me. “We’re going for a ride over to the pond and having a picnic.”

It’s simple and straightforward.

I love it. A whole day with Allyson all to myself.

That’s not what I say though. “Little cold for swimming, ain’t it?” That’s an understatement. The water is probably barely fifty degrees, and that’s when the spring sun’s been beating down on it all day. “We could just stay here where it’s warm enough we don’t even need clothes.”

Allyson spins in my arms, my soft cock leaving the haven of her pussy and I groan in disappointment. Even spent, I’d rather be inside her than not.

“Go get cleaned up and dressed,” she says, all queen of the house again and making me love it. “We’re leaving in ten minutes or Lollipop is likely to start eating the side of the house.”

Lollipop is a new horse Sophie talked Luke into rescuing, a supposed runt that his original owners didn’t want for some damnfool reason. He’s a good one, or at least he will be once Luke gets done training him. Lollipop started out a bit mannerless because his last owners didn’t teach him good habits, but Luke has made great headway with him, and Allyson has taken a liking to the pretty boy.

And Lollipop is a pretty horse, with flanks creamy as butter and dark legs. And he goes all soft and heart-eyed when Allyson scratches along the black stripe on his back. But he is still a nibbler and very well may take a chomp out of the house if we leave him waiting too long.

“I’ll be ready in five, don’t let that monster eat the living room from the outside in.”

* * *

Allyson

I hope he gets it. I hope he thinks it’s cute. I hope he doesn’t think it’s stupid.

My mind plays on repeat as we ride across the fields towards the pond behind the Bennett homestead.

It’s not too close to Mama Louise’s, a few acres away and over a rolling hill that places the pond at the bottom of a small valley, making it seem like a private country paradise.

Usually, it’s James and Sophie’s secret spot, but they helped me arrange everything today so I know they’ll leave us alone.

I hope he gets it. I hope he thinks it’s cute. I hope he doesn’t think it’s stupid.

It’s not negative self-talk, not really. It’s just that today is major and I want it all to go perfectly. This will be a story we tell each other around the fireplace fifty years from now, and the planner-perfectionist side of me hasn’t left anything to chance.

Except Bruce’s reaction.

I wrap my arms around his waist tighter, giving his wide berth a good squeeze. He pats my hands with one of his, enveloping me. “You okay?” He’s quiet, sensing there’s something going on with me but giving me the time and space to open up when I’m ready.

We’ve gotten so good at this. At talking, at being together, at being… healthy. It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t always happen the first time. I still gave him shit, making him pay for mistakes he didn’t make when I’d get scared at just how big my feelings for this man truly are and how vulnerable that made me. But he’s been nothing but patient with me, usually kind but sometimes forceful when he needed to be, not letting me duck away from us.

It makes me feel free. He makes me feel free, safe in the cocoon of his strong arms and endless love.

Which is why I’m not really nervous about Bruce’s reaction. I’m excited. That’s what this buzz of butterflies in my belly is… anticipation.

We’re almost there, so I start the story I planned on telling.

“You remember when we first met?” I press my cheek to his back, the memories washing through me. I’d been a young girl, on the verge of a life-changing moment and not even knowing it. All I’d known was absolute horror at the prospect of giving a speech in front of my whole class.

“Speech class?” The vibration of his answer feels good against my cheek and I smile.

“I was so nervous and no one was listening- “

“I was listening to you.” He sounds offended, as if I dare question that he hangs on my every word. To his point, he pretty much does. He’ll listen to me rant about how inaccurate Law and Order is, and how ridiculous Judge Judy is, even though I still binge watch every episode of both of them. They’re my guilty pleasures.

“Okay, so you were listening to me wax poetic about saving the ducks. But no one else was. I think that’s when we started falling in love.” I sigh dreamily, lost to the happy times of our youth before everything went wonky. Before everything got back on track.

Bruce snorts. “I was already half in love with you, that’s why I was listening to you talk about baby ducks. I started falling in love with you on the first day of school when you walked into that class and sat down like you were holding court. Blonde, blue-eyed cheerleader with a smile for everyone… you fucking blew my mind. I pretty much started jacking off to mental pictures of you that night.”

I make a noise of displeasure, but really, I’m blushing and pleased at the vulgar compliment. “Uh! So crude! I’m trying to be sweet and romantic here, and you’re ruining it.”

He drops his voice down low and grumbly, knowing exactly what it does to me. He’s not playing fair at all. “You didn’t mind me being crude a little while ago in the middle of your dream kitchen.”

“Well, that speech was when I started falling in love, and that’s a sweeter story, so I’m sticking with it.” I dig my chin into the bulky muscle of his shoulder, daring him to disagree. He merely grunts, so I take it as a win. “And that was when you asked me out too. Today’s that anniversary.”

I’m trying to time it just right.

We crest over the ridge, the pond stretched out below us, surrounded by its grassy drop-off shore and filled with… yellow rubber ducks.

Bruce’s barking laughter peals out loud and joyful over the hills of the ranch, and I revel in its lightness. My brutal monster of a man cracking up so hard he’s got tears leaking out of his eyes.

“What the fuck, Al? Did you fill the pond with ducks for our anniversary?” He’s twisting in the saddle, trying to see me and the pond at the same time.

I laugh too. “I did. I thought it’d be cute. Do you like it?” I’m grinning like a loon, not even needing his answer because I know he does.

“Come here.” Bruce’s voice has gone soft and frayed at the edges. He grabs my waist and pulls me to the front of him, my legs straddled backwards over his but Lollipop doesn’t even stumble a single step.

Good boy, Lollipop, I think, and then Bruce wipes every thought from my mind with a kiss.

His lips melt over mine, sweet and soft but deep with history. He’s the boy I fell in love with so long ago, but he’s more than that. I’m the girl he fell in love with so long ago, but I’m more than that now too. Somehow, who we became is who we were always meant to be, twists and turns and all that just adding depth to the flavor of our love.

When we come up for breath, Bruce presses his forehead to mine, his palm heavy on my neck as he looks deep into my eyes. “I love the ducks. And I love you, Allyson Tannen. Always have, always will.”

Tears try to fall, stinging and burning at the corners of my eyes. For so long, I cried at night, full of fear and doubts, until I almost gave up on caring and was empty inside, too much of a husk to cry. But now… every tear I cry is of happiness because of the man in front of me. He makes me so damn happy, makes our son so happy, and is the true love of my life. “I love you too, Bruce Tannen. Always have, always will.”

We kiss again, not for the past, and not even for the present. But for the future, because it holds so much possibility now.

“What are we gonna do with a couple hundred rubber duckies, baby?” Bruce sounds like he’s still a little in shock at my crazy gift.

“Save them, of course,” I declare. “I’ve already got plans for them.”

He lifts one dark brow, probably trying to figure out what closet he’s going to store them in because he’d do that for me, no matter how crazy it sounds.

“Until July at least. Then we’re donating them to the town festival for their duck pond game. Every kid’s a winner.” I wave around invisible pompoms and smile, knowing he didn’t see that coming at all.

“Thank fuck! Though maybe we can keep one as a souvenir if you want?” He presses his lips together and nods like he’s making a big concession for me.

My big, gruff and growly cowboy has a sweet, romantic side and he wants that duck for himself, sure as the sun’s gonna set tonight, but I’ll let him blame me for it to save face. I already know what a big teddy bear he is. “Sure, we can keep one. Maybe we’ll paint a heart on it, put it on your nightstand so you can remember the day you asked me out and started falling in love with me.” I raise a brow pointedly and he smiles.

“That sounds real nice, Al. That was such a great day, the start of us.” He places a sweet kiss to my forehead and Lollipop starts to wiggle. “Oops, guess we’re wearing out our welcome. Let’s get down to the pond and have lunch, let this guy roam a bit.”

I hug Bruce tight, putting my head on his shoulder and he hitches me up higher so I’m basically straddling him and not resting on the saddle at all. This is not the way to ride a horse, it’s ridiculously awkward, a bit painful, and if Luke saw us, he’d probably cuss a blue-streak that we’re destroying Lollipop’s training, but I’m not letting go of Bruce right now, so we carefully and slowly meander towards the pond.

We’re going to celebrate where we began. And to celebrate where we are. And even though it was rough as fuck, to celebrate the road in between that brought us back together.

Extended Epilogue

Nathan

It used to be, I secretly actually liked working at my ‘job.’ There were frustrations and complications, and cleaning up my father’s legacy was a pain in the ass.

But at some point, it became mine . . . my choice, my destiny, my future. And there was a magical period, in between Emma joining my life and my first wedding anniversary, where work was actually… fun.

I had Caleb by my side, my brother and I both finding some version of peace with our father’s passing and who he was. Caleb was still the free-wheeling road warrior, traipsing around the world and getting himself into the thick of the action. A headache whenever he was ‘back in the world,’ as we used to say as mercs… but a headache that I would never want to give up. Because besides being my brother, he loved going on ‘missions’ for the family business, and had become a damn good field leader in his own right. And though I’d never tell him, I missed him when he was gone and I worried about him out there without me to have his back.

I had Emma, filling my heart and my days in ways I’d never imagined. Once she was no longer restrained in her ambitions, she worked her ass off and finished up her Master’s, seemingly flying through the two years. And she did it all while working for Professor Ford and going on trips every break she got. Most women would want luxury, knowing that I could well afford it. But my Emma? She would beg me to take her to see old ruins and museums, smiling like I’d given her a great gift the whole time.

We were busy, we were sometimes learning as we went, and I’ll admit to plenty of mistakes.

But Caleb and Emma’s satisfaction with their life, with the work it took to see a mission through, inspired me to reframe my way of thinking about Stone Corp. Instead of it being an albatross Dad had slung around my neck as a final deathly punishment, it became something else altogether. And incrementally, work became fun. It became my company.

Now though, I can’t wait until the work day ends. I have a new love in my life, and as I click one last button, sending the day’s final e-mail to my office assistant, I lean back. Rubbing at the scruff on my face, I shuck away the mantle of professionalism, letting relaxation wash through my body.

My arms stretched behind my head and my eyes closed, I realize something. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

I don’t hear Grant working, but he’s pretty much a ninja half the time anyway. Emma though, she’s usually accompanied by the joyous sounds of why work’s become a bit of a distracting chore for me, our baby son Justin.

I strain my ears, listening for the tell-tale coos and cries, songs and sweetness that accompany them both so frequently.

I love my wife and my son, and I detest every moment that I’m not able to be with them. Justin’s barely walking, but I was there for his first steps, I was there for his first babbled words, and I’ve sworn I’m going to be there for every major moment in his life.

I didn’t have that and I know what that does to a boy. I won’t make that mistake.

“I promise,” I whisper to myself as I look across my desk and see the wedding picture of Emma that I keep there, looking so beautiful and demure in white… nobody but us knows she wasn’t wearing panties under her gown. I’m pretty sure Justin was technically conceived before the wedding, like minutes before my bride had walked down the aisle to meet me. She’d wanted a ‘first look’ moment with pictures and I hadn’t been able to stop myself from hiding her away for a few ‘last words’ that had involved me ripping her lacy white panties off and shoving the tatters in my pocket before thrusting into her slick heat. My bride had married me already marked inside and out with our love.

Love that had brought Justin a mere nine months later I think, looking at the next picture lined up across my desk. “I’ll be there for everything,” I vow, tracing a finger along the soft roundness of his head and wishing I was holding him in my arms for real right now.

“Everything what?” a quiet voice asks from the door to my office, and I look up to see Emma, a light tank top on, her legs clad in a loose, flowy skirt. I’d asked her once if she wore them just to tempt me into flipping it over her ass, easy access style. She’d playfully hit my chest, and told me that she liked the loose skirts because they’re ‘super comfy, like crotchless yoga pants’. She’d even done a wild kick to show the freedom of movement the skirt gave her, but I’d been stuck on crotchless and had flipped that skirt over her ass that instant. I consider doing it again now, but answer her question first.

“Just reminding myself that I have to learn to play baseball. I figure Justin will need a t-ball coach in a few years,” I joke, getting up and taking my wife by the hands. “You look gorgeous,” I tell her, letting my dirty thoughts tint the compliment.

“Thank you. Grant’s keeping an eye on Justin, he’s sleeping right now.” There’s answering heat in the seemingly innocent statement. But her voice softens, “You know, I think Grant considers himself grandpa. Grandpa Grant, or . . . I know, GG. That’s what Justin should call him.” She smiles like it’s a question, but I know she’s already decided.

I pull Emma close, not letting her off the hook from the sparks that are igniting, but grinning at her excitement. “Well, that makes two of us. Justin could do worse than his GG.”

We kiss softly, and I’m again enchanted by the plump lips that I’ve nibbled on tens of thousands of times over the past four years. She wraps her arms around my neck, and between my legs I feel my cock thicken, a rise that Emma’s always been able to get out of me.

“Mmmm… before that,” she says, stepping back, “I got a phone call.”

“Oh?” I ask, my half hard cock aching in my dress slacks. I might be a dad, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready for dad clothes and dad bod just yet. “Claire?” I ask, knowing Emma worries about her sister as much as I worry about my brother.

“Nope. Carly,” Emma says with a grin. “She and Kyle want to stay for a week.”

“A week?” I ask, not upset but surprised. Since using his skills and a little assistance from Stone Corp to make a few introductions, he and Carly have made quite a comfortable life for themselves in the realm of corporate security. In fact, I just saw him in a TMZ picture, working as event security at the United Nations. “Of course, but why are you grinning?”

Emma laughs, pushing me back to my desk chair and having me sit down. “Oh… girl gab. It seems that Carly thinks this house is lucky.”

“Lucky?” I ask, and Emma nods. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems that Carly did some math,” Emma explains, “and she’s pretty sure that Susannah was conceived in this house when she came to help me with wedding plans and Kyle tagged along. And they’ve thought about having another baby, sooooo….” She holds her hand up, fingers crossed for her friend.

“I could’ve done without that bit of knowledge,” I tell her, though an idea that’s been rooting in my mind blooms fully in that moment.

Emma grins, and puts her arms around my neck. “I can read your mind, my sexy husband. And you’re thinking the same thing I’m thinking.”

“That maybe we look at having another baby too?” I ask, and Emma nods. “I know Justin is still young, but I want him to have a sibling like I had Caleb. I’ve been thinking about it, but-”

“But I’m fine, my body feels good… and you’re the world’s best father,” Emma promises me. Decision made, she lets go of my neck, turning to bend over my desk. “So, Mr. Stone… I was wondering-”

She doesn’t even get the words out before I’ve pulled her skirt up, squeezing the twin globes of her ass. I pull down her thong and kiss the soft skin, making her gasp. “Mmm…”

Wanting more of her moans, I lick her pussy, knowing it’ll draw the sounds from her throat to surround me. She’s spicy, fragrant and I drag my tongue deeply between her lips, scooping out her delicious slickness to drink her down.

The flavor, the sounds… in moments my cock is rock hard and I stand up, undoing my pants and letting my throbbing hardness out. “Turn over, kitty.”

Emma turns over, hiking her skirt up and pulling off her tank top, her pussy gleaming for me as she spreads her knees wide on the top of my desk. “You know what that does to me,” she pants, already needy.

“What?” I ask as I rub the head of my dick between her warm, wet folds, though I already know exactly what she’s talking about. “You like it when I call you kitty? Want me to make you purr?”

I sheathe myself balls deep inside her on the last word and Emma cries out, “Yesss–” It’s more of hiss than a purr, but I know it means I’m making her feel good.

I groan, grinding deep inside her. She’s amazing, my wife, my love… my soul.

I’m blessed to have her in my life, and as I pull back, I reach up, cupping a breast and lowering my lips, sucking tenderly.

I thrust into her, sexy and natural. Releasing her tit, I kiss up to her mouth as I fuck her deeply and slowly, not rushing even if she’s perched precariously on my desk. I’ve got her, safe and secure, pinned to the wood with my cock.

“God you’re amazing,” Emma mewls as our hips meet. “You could have gone hard, but-”

“But I’m giving my wife what she wants, and taking what I need,” I whisper, nibbling on her earlobe. We rise together, my hips guided by how hard she’s squeezing me until she grows impossibly tighter. I speed up, planting my hands on my desk blotter as I stare into her eyes, our hearts falling into that perfect synch that we’ve had and will always have forever.

“Nathan… yes yes yes yes!” Emma cries out as she comes on my cock, her pussy’s grip pulsing like a vise. It triggers my own orgasm and I cry out, hammering her hard four times so quickly they feel like one long stroke. I hold deep inside her, rope after rope of my seed filling her body until I feel like my balls are totally drained.

I go to pull out, but Emma wraps her legs around me, keeping me tight inside her as we kiss slowly and soulfully, our bodies pressed together.

“I love you, Nathan. Now and forever.”

“I love you, Emma,” I reply, cupping her face.

She grins at me. “Rest up, big boy… because I’m wanting another deep dose tonight, and tomorrow, and every day until we get this mission accomplished.” She giggles softly at her own joke, and I feel it through her body as she constricts around me.

The tightness brings my softening cock back to full attention inside her and I make a few shallow thrusts. “Tonight? Why wait when we can get you so full of cum you can’t even hold it all right now? Seems like that’d increase our odds of a successful mission.” I tease back with her word play, but I’m already fucking her again.

Already thinking of her belly round as she grows our child, expands our family, makes me into the Dad I never thought I’d be.

* * *

The sun’s bright in the sky, warm rays soaking into my shoulders as I watch Justin toddle around in the backyard grass. There are times I’ve thought of selling the old house, not needing the fancy show my dad always enjoyed. But then I see Justin enjoying the yard and know that one day soon, he’ll be big enough to truly explore the grounds. And I realize I love this place.

Once upon a time, my parents bought it to be a family home, with hopes and dreams probably similar to my own. They might not have come true for them, for me and Caleb, but I can rewrite that ending for the house. Give it the family it deserves.

I guess there were benefits to what my father did after all.

I hear Carly and Kyle arrive long before Grant can announce them, Carly’s excited squeal penetrating the air a good ten seconds before Grant leads them into the back area.

“Carly, good to see you,” I say, waving off Grant’s formal introductions as she launches herself at me. She latches around my neck, hugging tightly and I use her momentum to spin her in a circle. “I see you’re still working on your takedowns.”

“Oh shut up you big ogre, it’s just good to see you again!” Carly says, rubbing my hair to make it stand up every which way, just like the sister I never wanted. “Where’s Emma?”

“Upstairs, but-” I start, but Carly’s seen Justin, and she’s already scooping him up, tickling him. Kyle comes over, his baby backpack secure on his massive back, Susannah napping quietly with her cheek pressed adorably to Kyle’s shoulder. We shake, and I smile. “You’re looking good, Kyle. Life good?”

“Very,” Kyle says, blushing a little. “Ah, did Emma tell you about our visit-”

“We’re family,” I reply simply, and Kyle stops, frozen except for a slow blink. A long second later, his face softens a bit before he recovers and nods once. And it’s true, we are family. I think of it this way. I have two brothers, Caleb by blood, and Kyle’s sort of a brother in law.

A new, more familiar squeal comes from the house, and we all look up to see Emma, her head sticking out the window to our master suite, waving down. “Carly! Hey babe!”

“Hey!” Carly waves back, setting Justin down thankfully. He giggles, but is soon distracted by a ladybug flying by and wanders away from his ‘Aunt Carly.’ “Thanks for having us!”

“Yeah well, you may change your tune after this!” Emma says, shooting finger guns at Carly. “We beat ya!”

I tilt my head, confused, and Emma laughs, tossing something to me. I catch it, and blink as I realize what it is… a pregnancy test.

“Really?” I ask, and Emma nods.

“Really!” I repeat, this time not a question, reality beginning to sink in and joy popping like fireworks in my soul.

“You’re gonna be a daddy, Daddy!” Emma yells, and I look up to the window, where my heart smiles back at me.

I glance back to see Carly’s mouth wide open in an ‘O’ while Kyle rests his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, welcome guys, but I gotta go . . .” I point to the house.

Kyle’s deep chuckle draws my attention, “Go. We’ve got Justin. Trade you back babysitting time later. Seems we’ve got some catching up to do.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I bolt for the house, for the stairs, for Emma, for our ever-expanding family. Once, I’d thought it was me and Caleb against the world. Now, I’ve got so much more and it’s all because of the woman behind these double doors.

I bust through them to see her sitting criss-cross in the middle of our bed. “What took you so long?” she asks, the corners of her smile almost reaching her ears.

I tackle her softly, lying her back on the bed and going in for a kiss. But not to her mouth, instead I push her shirt up and press my lips to her belly. “Hi baby, I’m your Daddy.” I know our new little one can’t hear me, but I’m going to be the best dad I can be from moment one. My eyes burn as I look up Emma’s body to meet her eyes, also glossy with happy tears. “Thank you. For everything.”