InHap*pily Ever After (Incidental Happenstance) (6 page)

            “Officially
and forever,” she smiled. “Do you have a new song to play for me?” 

            He grinned at
her and ran his gaze up her body. “Really?” he asked. “You come out here
dressed like that, and think I can concentrate on anything else but how
amazingly sexy you are?” He grabbed her ankles and pulled so that she was lying
before the fire and rolled atop her. “That’s for later,” he said, pressing his
body against hers and finding her mouth once again.

            The kiss
started tenderly; sweet and soft; but soon grew more insistent.  He moved to
her neck, the stubble of his thin beard tickling as he nibbled his way down to
her collarbone. She tilted her head back to give him more access, and he ran
his hands down the length of her body.

            Oh, how she’d
missed his hands! The rough callouses on his fingertips caressed her skin,
throwing shivers everywhere. She drew her breath in sharply as his fingers
swirled over her back, then over to her stomach, where they headed north. He
unhooked her bra with one quick motion, and then they skimmed over her nipples;
tracing circles there as she moaned, pushing herself into his touch. “Slower
this time,” she smiled. “Deliciously slow. I want to savor you.”

            “Deliciously
slow, you say,” he murmured as his lips trailed further down her body. “I can
do that. We have plenty of time.”

            “Mmmm hmmm,”
she hummed, unable to articulate anything other than the pleasure she felt at
his hands on her skin and his mouth at her breast.

            He took his
sweet time with her, running his fingers softly over the silky fabric of her
panties and then back up to cradle her breasts. Her hands explored as well,
exalting in the feel of his skin and his intoxicating scent, running her hands
slowly and reverently over the familiar contours of his body.

            “God, you’re
beautiful,” he whispered as he rolled her over, sliding off his jeans while she
shrugged out of her panties. He spread himself over her, pressing his body to
hers and separating her legs with one of his own. He shifted so that he lay
next to her, and found her slick opening with the tip of his finger. “So
beautiful,” he breathed as he felt just how much she wanted him.

            “I could do
this forever,” she murmured. 

            “Forever’s not
nearly long enough.” He slipped his finger into her slowly, then pulled it out,
swirling it over her nipple before taking the bud into his mouth, gently
sucking the hardened flesh. “I need more of that,” he said, running his tongue
down her stomach until he skimmed it over her swollen core.

            Tia moaned in
pleasure, and raised her hips to meet his mouth. Slowly ceased to apply when he
was swirling his tongue in and around the most sensitive and aching parts of
her, but too soon he shifted his focus upward, nipping his way up to her
stomach and planting soft kisses at her hips.

            She wanted to
beg him to continue; she needed him desperately; but his hands moved achingly
slowly over her curves and valleys, sending shock waves of bliss that shorted
out her ability to form any rational words. He skimmed her thighs with the tips
of his fingers, purposefully lingering at her opening but refusing to enter,
even as she pushed her hips into his caress.

            “Mmmnnn,” she
mumbled, “more.”

            “Oh, I’ve got
more for you, baby girl. Much more.”

            She tried to
protest, but then he pulled her nipple between his fingers and tightened the
grasp while massaging her breast. She thought she might come right there, so
connected was every part of her to the throbbing between her legs. Biting her lip
to slow the building momentum, she arched her back to press herself against him
and took his need into her hands, stroking him firmly.

           
This,
Tia thought,
is the purest definition of making love.
It was beautiful
and magical and amazing and perfect and every cell in her body pulsed with the
beat of her heart. They took pleasure in giving pleasure and explored each
other without inhibition, whispering tiny sentiments and finding pure joy in
the connection of their bodies. The past months and the coming days fell away
as they made their way slowly to the crescendo, the outside world ceasing to
exist in moments of the sheer beauty of true love.

            When he
finally slid inside, she felt filled with light, and he smiled down at her
until he had to throw his head back with release and pure ecstasy. “I love
you,” they said in unison as they slipped over the edge together. 

            They held each
other silently for a few moments, smiling and touching and kissing before Dylan
grabbed their wine, handing her a glass and touching the rim with his own.

            “I think that
was the perfect pace,” Tia smiled, putting her hand to his cheek and nuzzling
against his chest. “Just exactly right.”

            “Mmmm.
Couldn’t agree more.” He fluffed up a pillow and tucked it behind him, leaning
against the couch.

            Tia sighed,
smiling comfortably. Dylan watched as she stretched out on the floor; propping
her head up on her arm. Her eyes drifted over to the guitar still leaning
against the couch, then back to Dylan, and back and forth again as she motioned
toward the instrument with a toss of her head.

            “Now you want
a song?” he teased.  “I’m not even sure my fingers will work to play them after
the way you took advantage of me.”

            Tia let an
easy grin slide over her face. “You have to remember that I was in love with
your music long before I knew you. Long before I ever even entertained the idea
that you could possibly be part of my life, your songs were a huge part.
They’ll always be my first love, I’m afraid.” She leaned up and planted a
tender kiss on his cheek. “Did you write any for me?”

            “They’re all
for you, love,” he smiled, “ever since the minute I met you they were all for
you.”

            “That’s so
sweet. How many new ones do you have?”

            “Quite a few,
actually. There’s going to be a lot of variety on the new album, I think. In
the beginning I wrote a few fun ones and a couple ballads; but I went through
so many emotions over the past few months that I’m not even sure what genre
we’ll be in after this…there’s a little bit of blues, some mushy love songs,
some seriously pissed-off stuff…I don’t know what’ll make the final cut, but it
ought to be interesting. I may have to do a solo album to get in all the love
songs I wrote for you.” He leaned over and grabbed the guitar, slung it over
his neck, and strummed a few chords. “I think I’ll play a sad one for you
first; it’ll give you a little glimpse into how I was feeling when I thought
I’d lost you. I do like how it turned out in the end, though, but I’m really
glad I’ll never have to feel the way I did when I wrote it.”

             “Oh Dyl,” she
sighed as he plucked the first notes. She remembered all too well the crushing
sadness she’d felt when she thought she’d never see him again, and had to
remind herself that he’d been feeling the same way, all alone on the other side
of the world.

            Even the
guitar sounded as if it were weeping as he wove around the intro, humming in
the back of his throat. He looked into her eyes and sang; his voice soulful and
melancholy.
 

           

                        The
veil hangs over midnight and I’m sitting here alone…

                        Can’t
see you; touch you;  face to face can’t even get you on the phone…

                        The
moon hangs heavy as my heart blocking stars out from the sky…

                        Alone
and dark without you and I can’t figure out just why

           

                        You
know you are my heart…

                        I
feel all torn up and broken whenever we’re apart…

                        Can’t
seem to do the simplest things can’t even start…

                        I
need you back I need you near…

                        There’s
just this veil of midnight when you’re not here

 

                        A
restless night of broken dreams the images of you…

                        Come
flashing back consuming me there’s nothing I can do…

                       

                        I
left you back so far away oh how I miss your smile…

                        Can’t
face the coming morning…

                        Guess
I’ll dream of you a while…

                        You
left me lost and broken, oh how I miss your touch…

                        The
mere thought of life without you …Is asking way too much

           

                        You
know you are my heart…

                        I’m
all ripped up and broken since we were torn apart…

                        Going
on without you—I don’t know where to start…

                        I
need you back I need you near…

                        There’s
this crushing veil of midnight when you’re not here…

           

            “Oh, baby,”
Tia whispered as the final chords wept from the strings. She wiped a tear from
her cheek and moved to him. He tossed the guitar onto the couch behind him and
she climbed into his arms; wrapping herself around him. “It’s beautiful and
perfect but I so wish you never had to write it. That you never had to be that
sad…”

            “Never again,
that’s for sure,” he said softly. “I’ll never let you be so far away from me
again.”

            “I’d follow
you anywhere,” she smiled. “I’m your biggest fan, you know.”

            “And the only
one that matters.” He tossed the guitar onto the couch and pulled her to him,
curling her into the nest of his body. They slept there, before the fire; the
best sleep either of them had had in months.

 

*****

           

            The car rolled
up to the valet area, and Dylan pulled her hand up and kissed the back of it.
“You ready, baby?” he asked, the confidence in his voice settling a few of her
butterflies. “I’ll be by your side every step of the way. This is going to be
the fun part.”

            She smiled.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said with as much conviction as she could
muster, her voice only faltering a little.  She took a deep breath and held it,
hoping it would calm her shaking.

            Ricco, the
valet, opened the passenger side door as the security guard hopped out and
stood at the ready. When Dylan stepped out of the car Ricco’s head tilted and
his eyes slanted as he tried to place the face. Recognition dawned on him then
and his eyes widened; filling instantly with the look that she and Dylan
called, “star struck.”

            “Whoa,” he
said, “aren’t you that guy who was on the news this morning?”

            Dylan had
turned on the television while they had their morning coffee, to see just how
much buzz the story had generated in the media. They flipped through channels,
and it was just as Dylan had feared. It was really big news. Anytime a
Hollywood starlet got arrested the story seemed to jump to the top of the
headlines, but since the whole fiasco was being called a “love triangle,” and
it involved two celebrities and a mystery woman, it was positively viral.
“Experts” were making guesses about who the mystery lady might be, and one
station was asking viewers to name the woman they thought would be Dylan’s
perfect match. Tia Hastings, fifth grade teacher and ordinary citizen, did not
appear on the list. The media was quick to demonize Penelope, as well,
wondering aloud whether her disastrous break-up with Jason Whitten “threw her
over the edge.”

             
Person to
Person
was on the store shelves, featuring Dylan’s own words; which
reporters were quoting in their segments. On the cover was a huge triangle with
all three corners cut away.  Dylan’s picture was in the top angle; a perfect
smile on his face, and his gaze focused on the question mark that filled the
lower left section. The lower right portion featured a rather unflattering
picture of Penelope, scowling and looking up toward the picture of Dylan. In
the center read the headline, “Accused!” and beneath that, “What Really
Happened Down Under—in Dylan Miller’s Own Words.”

             Dylan reached
out and shook Ricco’s hand. “I’m Dylan Miller; nice to meet you,” he replied
kindly.

            “Oh man, my
wife’s not going to believe this!” he exclaimed. “Please, sir, can I get a
picture with you so I can send it to her? She’s a big fan of yours!”

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