Beauty from Surrender (40 page)

It's after five when I come into the house, so I know Mrs. Porcelli has left for the evening. Dinner is on the stove but hasn't been touched. All the lights are off in the house with the exception of a dim light from the living room. I follow the dull glow because I'm certain that must be where Jack Henry is—if he's home.

And then worrisome thoughts begin to cross my mind. Maybe he isn't here. He could be out prowling for another woman because he thinks I'm leaving him. Or worse, I could find him with someone. He doesn't know I'm coming home, so he could be up to anything.

Shit! This is my fear speaking. Jack Henry isn't like that. He loves me.

I stand in the doorway of the living room and see him sitting in his chair. He's alone. I breathe a sigh of relief. He's holding a drink in his hand as he stares at the black screen of the television. He turns up the last of it and then places the glass on the end table next to him.

He's wearing jeans and a khaki button-down work shirt. His Indiana Jones hat is sitting on the table next to him, and I assume he's just come home since he's still wearing work attire.

He's oblivious to me standing there watching him, and I take advantage of the rare opportunity to admire his masculine beauty. I wish I could see his crystal blue eyes. I love the contrast of them next to his nearly black hair. His hair and eye color combination have always been my favorite, and I hope our children inherit that from him. In fact, I want them to look just like their father.

He must sense me watching because he turns to see me standing there looking at him. It's impossible to not see the surprise in his eyes. And the fear—at least that's what I think it is.

He doesn't get out of his chair to come to me. I'm nervous that I may have pushed him too far.

"L, why didn't you tell me you were coming home?" I'm not about to tell him I wanted him to be worried an extra day, but he saves me from replying. "I wish you'd called. I wouldn't have drunk this whiskey if I'd known."

"It's okay. We can still talk. A little bit of whiskey won't stop us."

"I don't know if the amount of whiskey I've consumed would qualify as a little bit—except maybe to an alco."

He may have slurred a little. "Are you hammered?"

"It's possible, but in my defense, I didn't have a reason not to be. I'm sorry, L. Now probably isn't the best time to talk this out—if that's what you're here for. If you came to say that you're leaving me, then I'm glad to have a head start on that bottle of Jack."

"I considered leaving you, but Addison made me see things I hadn't considered."

"And what did you come up with?"

I walk across the living room until I'm standing in front of him. "This is over."

I barely have the words out when he moves to the edge of his seat and reaches for me. He puts his arms around my body and pulls me forward. He squeezes me tightly. "Please, don't say that we're over. I will beg you from my knees if it's what you want, but please, don't end us."

"You didn't let me finish." He looks up at me. "You explained what happened with that woman. Yes, it was painful to hear, but no, you technically didn't wrong me because we agreed to never see one another again. I can't hold it against you, so it's over. There's no reason to discuss it further."

"Thank fuck! I've been going crazy these past few days." He stands and takes my face in his hands. "How many times do I have to almost lose you?"

"I don't know." I hold up my left hand. "You better hurry up and put the other part of that ring on my finger."

"Let's forget planning this wedding and do it tomorrow."

He may be drunk but I think he's serious. "We can't do that to Margaret. She'd be so disappointed."

"She'd get over it."

As much as I want to, I won't hurt Margaret that way. "It's less than three weeks away. We can wait."

He pulls me close. "You're positive I can't talk you into it?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay. I'll wait until the fourteenth to make you my wife, but I'm not waiting until then to have you under me."

He grabs my hand to lead me toward the bedroom and I swipe his hat from where it's sitting on the end table. "Why did you grab my hat?"

"Because I want you to wear it while you fuck me," I laugh. "You're drunk so I figure I can talk you into doing anything right now."

"Baby, I don't have to be drunk for you to talk me into doing something you want. I'll always give you anything you ask for." He stops to kiss me before we're in the bedroom. "You don't mind that I'm a little hammered?"

"No. It'll make it interesting. I like the things I can get out of you when you've been drinking. Plus, I love when you taste like whiskey. It turns me on."

"I've had a lot," he admits. "You might get drunk just kissing me."

"Caveman, you don't have to drink whiskey to intoxicate me. All I have to do is look at you and I'm love drunk."

***

I'm sleeping in the guesthouse tonight because Margaret McLachlan insists. She says I can't sleep with L. because I'm not supposed to see her the day of the wedding, but it's eleven o'clock so technically it's not the day of the wedding yet.

The McLachlan women are in the house patrolling all entrances to prevent me from getting to my bride, but they didn't count on my persistence or my cleverness in removing the screen on the window to our bedroom earlier in the day when they weren't looking.

I sneak to the window and try to look inside but can't see a thing behind the blinds except for the dim glow of the bedside lamp. I listen for voices but all I can hear is L.'s guitar and soft voice. What is she doing singing and playing this late—the night before our wedding?

I lightly tap on the window and wait in vain for a response. Finally, I knock and then hear the sound of her music stop. A moment later, L. pulls up one of the blind's slats and then raises it. She unlocks the window and lifts it up. "What are you doing out there? Being a peeping Tom?"

"I wanted to see you."

"Yeah. That's what peeping Toms do." She lifts her brows at me. "You know your mom would have a fit if she knew you were outside this window."

And that's exactly why she needs to hurry up and let me in. "That's why I'm sneaking in."

"You're sneaking in?"

She thinks I'm kidding. "Yeah. I haven't been with you in days because they've kept you so busy. I'm in withdrawals."

"We're getting married tomorrow. You remember that, right?"

"We have an hour until it's our wedding day and I want to spend every minute of it with you." Her face looks like she's considering it, so I make a move to seal the deal. "Please, L. I'll make it worth your while, but you'll have to let me cover your mouth when I make you scream my name."

She shakes her head but grins. I know that means I'm good to go before she says a word. "Get your ass in here before my mother-in-law catches you, but I'm warning you now—I'm screaming if you don't make this worth my while."

"Not a chance."

I hoist myself up through the window and fall inside. "Shh…they're going to hear you and come running to see what's going on."

"I'm not scared," I boast.

"Yeah. And that's why you're sneaking in through the window—because you're so brave."

I grab her around the waist and pull her against me. "Stop talking and kiss me. We don't have long. We're probably down to fifty-five minutes now, and I don't know if I can do all the things I want to do in under an hour."

I bring my lips to hers and she laces her fingers through the back of my hair to pull me closer. She might not say it, but she has missed being with me just as much the last few days. I can feel it in the urgency of her kiss. "I think my girl is a little bit horny."

She wastes no time working the buttons down the front of my shirt. "I'm maybe a little bit sexually frustrated. You're not the only one used to gettin' it every day." She gets it open and pushes it away from my shoulders until it falls to the floor. She runs her palms up my chest and then down until she's reaching for my fly. "After all this time I should be over feeling butterflies in my stomach when we're together, but I'm not and I don't think I ever will be."

"Good." I don't want her to ever be over it.

I reach for my T that she's wearing and pull it over her head. "You're wearing my shirt."

"I put it on because I wanted to smell you when I got into bed. But having the real thing here with me is so much better." I agree with that.

She pushes my jeans and boxer briefs down and I kick them off the rest of the way. When I pull her close, my hard-on presses against her stomach and she brushes her fingers up and down my shaft. "I think my boy is a little bit horny."

"Maybe I'm a little bit sexually frustrated. Isn't that what you called it?"

I put my hands on her hips and push her knickers down her legs until she steps out of them. "I believe I did." When she puts her arms up on my shoulders, I grab the backs of her thighs and lift her to wrap her legs around my waist. I don't think I'll ever get tired of doing that.

I carry my almost-bride to our bed and gently lower her to the mattress. I push stray hair from her face before I rain kisses over it. "You are so beautiful. I'm a lucky bastard to have you to look at the rest of my life."

"I consider myself the lucky one."

I run my thumbs over her cheeks. "I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving to you that I'm worthy of your love."

"You've already proved your worthiness. That's why I'm becoming your wife tomorrow."

"My wife." It still hasn't quite soaked in that I'll become Laurelyn's husband tomorrow. "I love hearing you say that."

I take my time kissing her mouth and then migrate down her neck to her chest, between her breasts. I palm one as I suck her hard nipple into my mouth and swipe my tongue over it. I graze the tip with my teeth and she moans as her breath increases, so I do it again because she likes it.

I drift lower until my mouth is over her pubic arch. "And I get to have this for the rest of my life."

"Aren't you supposed to be in panic mode about never being with another woman?"

I've always heard that, but it's not true. "Never. The thought of not having you for the rest of my life is what puts me in panic mode."

"Then you should be fine because I'm not going anywhere."

"Well, I'm going somewhere, and it's down," I tell her as I push her legs apart. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

Her hand rests on the top of my head, stroking my hair. I laugh to myself because I know without a doubt that the gentle stroking she's doing now will soon turn into her grabbing a handful and giving it a yank. "Yes! You have no idea how much I want your mouth on me."

"I bet I have a good idea."

I drop lower and give her that one long, slow stroke up the middle. Her body jerks like she's been seared. "You always taste so good, L. I don't know if I'll ever be able to get enough of you." She drops her legs farther apart and rocks against my mouth. I push two fingers inside her while I use my tongue to circle her most sensitive spot. She's propped on her elbows watching me and she's wearing the face—the one I see when I know I'm doing everything right.