Keeping His Promise (Year of the Billionaire Part 3) (13 page)

"Again, your father didn't know I had anything to do with arranging the job. I've gotten to know a few of the guys he works with. I mentioned the job to one of them. It was all very casual."

"That sounds all too convenient."

"Look, my grandfather is an old man. He can't keep that shop forever. He legitimately needed help and the Bookmark needed to move into the times if it was going to survive. Can you at least agree to that much?"

"Okay . . .
but it's awfully coincidental."

"Who is better qualified for that job than you? Who?" He got up and paced. His tone was almost pleading. "You've got the right degree. You have experience in complex retrieval systems.
You know your way around web sites and technology. I didn't have to suggest you to Grandfather. All I had to do was get the two of you together."

"But you never let on . . .
"

"What would have happened then? I know you by now. You're ready to run at the slightest provocation."

"Like
you
did the day my mother came home?"

"Touché. That was a mistake. I was miserable. And scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Lots of things. Scared of opening up to you. Scared of letting you inside the wall. Scared, most of all, that I'd love you and lose you."

My heart started to pound.

"But I came back. I wanted to try. I couldn't stand being without you."

Boom. Boom. Boom.

"I wanted to tell you several times. But you kept going off on me. You told me you had 'no commitment to me'
at the very moment I wanted to . . . Anyway, you pissed me off."

"What did you want to do, Tristan?"

"I don't like your terms. I don't like the arbitrary limits." He came over to the couch and pulled me to my feet, holding me close and squeezing the breath out of me with his embrace.

"I want to know that you'll be there for me. That you won't bolt out of my life. I've stopped being able to imagine a future that doesn't have you in it." He put me at arm
's length and trained his magic eyes on mine. "You've brought something back that I thought I'd never feel again. I stopped looking past next week a long time ago. You have me dreaming again. But in every dream I have, you're the star."

He touched his lips to mine and kissed a tender ache into my core.

"I love you, Raina. It still scares the devil out of me but I swear I love you. Without limits, without conditions, and with every glorious expectation that my life is by your side."

I couldn't stop the tears that spilled blissfully down my cheeks. "Oh, Tristan, I love you too. With all my heart, I do."

He reached up and caught a salty drop and brought it to his mouth. "Sacred tears." I saw his eyes glisten, too. Every breath, every hour had led to this moment.

"Make love to me. Tell me with your body and then tell me again with your words."

We joined together in an act of willful forgetting. Our bodies slid past the valleys of doubt and the shadow of fear into a place so filled with light that it warmed away all angles. We were made into a circle, eternally without beginning or end.

Every man or woman who's ever said "I love you" knows the power of those words newly uttered.
The pleasure of our bodies was elevated, crystallized and transformed. He kissed me with promises. His lips burned against mine and fused our mouths in more than simple desire. When he touched my breasts my nipples ached under his hands. His touch was sanctified by a simple phrase.

There was new born urgency in us. We both knew that there'd still be plenty of play, that there was a lifetime of games and giggles ahead of us. But on that night our coupling was a consummation. His body covered mine
possessively and I felt the heat of his erection burning against my wet thighs. He moved his hips up over mine and his cock found me waiting to be taken. The flesh between my legs was reaching for him knowing that this particular moment would never come again.

Tristan bore into me with a slow, powerful thrust until he was as far inside me as our bodies would allow. I wrapped my legs around his waist and we
were still for a moment. He put his warm hands, gentle and powerful at the sides of my face and looked at me.

"I love you. I love you now and I'll love you more tomorrow and all the tomorrows after that."

He moved inside me with graceful, reverent thrusts. The thick head lingered against the spot inside that was his secret place to unlock me and free me. I forgot anything but being full of him. The force of my desire for him dominated all else.

We rocked against each other, both resisting the urgency that would bring us to the end. We wanted to make the journey last. It was our affirmation of declared love
that neither of us wanted to rush. And so we moved in a tandem dance of measured hunger until we could stand it no longer.

"Come with me." He kissed the words against my ear. "Come with me my only love."

"Tristan."

"My queen."

He claimed me with a ferocious plunge and pumped himself into my core. I felt him pushing against the mouth of my womb as the tension built in my channel and I tightened against him. I could feel him begin to throb as I lost myself in the crash of my climax. I bore down on him, milking him with my contractions and I felt him heave against me, stilling as he emptied himself into me. We gripped each other hard, releasing only when the aftershocks faded and our breath leveled.

When he rolled his weight off of me,
we lay in silence for a while, just basking in each other. Finally he spoke. "Thank you for what you did for me today. The Christmas thing."

"That was my pleasure, darling. I didn't know what to give you for Christmas. I didn't think you needed another sweater."

He propped himself up on an elbow and smiled at me. "It's the perfect gift. You made my house a home. Our home?" He sounded like a hopeful child. Even though it was sudden, I couldn't refuse him. Not that night, maybe not ever.

"Our home," I agreed.
I reached over and held his hand in the quiet, blessed night.

***

Epilogue

Bradley King surprised us by coming to New York two days before Christmas. If he was surprised to find his son's apartment a happy gingerbread kind of place with me already comfortably making bridge mix in the kitchen, he didn't let on.

His stated purpose in coming was to tell us that he had rattled cages at the highest level of the Chicago union that sent the thugs out to bedevil my father and that he felt sure there'd be no further trouble from them again. Apparently Tristan hadn't bothered to tell his father to put the brakes on with respect to my dad's difficulties. I no longer cared. The whole 'sting' operation never had to happen. Dad was safe and I was living with Tristan. All good.

But I like to think the real reason Mr. King came was the simple desire to be with his son for the holidays. He could have easily delivered his happy news by phone. But he wanted family and that felt so right to me. Amazingly, I could almost envision calling him Dad.

We had Christmas Eve dinner at
the Dakota with Grandpa Clemson, Boyd, Phoebe and my family. My sister had flown in from Oklahoma with her husband and her eyes nearly dropped out of her head when she met Tristan and saw how he--now we-- lived. Mr. King was a little quiet at first around his former father-in-law. They hadn't seen each other in years. But, as the evening wore on, sweet Mr. Clemson wormed his way into Brad's damaged heart and they wound up reminiscing about old times with more warmth than I could have hoped for. Maryann King was surely smiling down from heaven that night.

The entire clan gathered again at my parent's house in Park Slope for in the early afternoon on Christmas Day. My father brought up two folding tables from the basement and we all managed to squeeze in. Mom cooked a turkey
and
a ham. The table groaned under the weight of the magnificent meal.

On New Year's Eve, snow began to fall lightly as dusk settled in. It was just as well. Tristan had asked me if we could have a quiet night at home instead of 'doing the town'. I was more than happy to stay in. He had champagne, caviar and
foie gras
that I intended to prepare as close to the way I had it in France as I could get it.

We toasted the New Year in our favorite outfits--me in my red velvet robe and he in his elegant silk
. We watched the little gas fire twinkle in our candlelit nest. I tried to act suitably surprised when Tristan presented me with a diamond ring so big I thought I might be afraid to even wear it. But the way I loved him didn't leave much room for fear of any kind.

He slipped the ring on my finger and kissed me.
"Can I admit something to you?" I asked him.

"Anything."

"I have great expectations." He kissed my hand and held it to his cheek."We're going to have the best year of our lives this year, my only Queen."

"Until the next one and the next one, my darling King," I smiled.

####

Available now on Kindle
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Knowin
g His Secret

(Year of the Billionaire Part 1)

Takin
g His Risk

(Year of the Billionaire Part 2)

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