More Than Us (2 page)

Before we left the room, she asked me if I liked her swimsuit, the same inviting one she has on now, to which I replied, “I prefer it off of you and on the floor.”

That might have delayed our morning beach adventure by about twenty minutes or so. I don’t think she minded. I certainly didn’t.

Her sandy fingers flirt with my own. “This is so peaceful. I almost wish it would stay like this.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“Just you and me. Here. Alone.”

I know what she means. The last three days have been nothing short of amazing. It’s nice, having her to myself with no one or nothing else to distract us.

“It will be just the two of us again soon enough. Don’t forget; we have a honeymoon to look forward to.”

She sighs. “I still think we should have eloped.”

“No, you don’t.” I smile, rise to my elbow, and soak in her profile. “You would’ve regretted it in the long run.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. It’s going to be crazy once everyone gets here. You know how my mother is. She’s going to take over the entire event and boss everyone around, like it’s her job. I pity our poor wedding planner.”

“I think a smaller wedding away from New York is a good compromise.” I sit up, shading her eyes with the shadow from my torso. “Besides, a wedding is more than us. You know that. It’s families coming together. You’re going to be a part of my family, and I’m going to be a part of yours. We need to celebrate that. All of us. Everyone. And you know how much my parents love you, especially my mother. You wouldn’t want to deprive her of that, would you?”

“She really did win me over with those red velvet cupcakes. That was a good strategy on her part. Her food tactics totally caught me off guard. She’s evil…in the best way.” Evelyn stares over the crest of the gently lapping waves about twenty yards from our bare feet. “You’re right.”

“You aren’t getting cold feet, are you?” I trace the shape of her shoulder to the curve of her bicep.

“No. Of course not.” She leans toward me, grazing her mouth with mine. In a hushed sexy voice, she says, “We’re getting married, and you’re going to have to put up with me for the rest of your life.”

“You make marrying you sound like some kind of punishment.”

“I could make it one, if you like.”

“Go ahead and try. I’m well acquainted with you, your quirks, and all your idiosyncrasies.” I thumb her bottom lip. “And here’s a news flash—I love them all. Your crazy ideas, your erratic way of thinking, and the way you always keep me on my toes with your charm and wit.”

“Is that what you call it?” She laughs. “Charm and wit? I’m putting that on my résumé.”

“I think you should.” I brush a strand of light-blonde hair from her brow. “I can’t wait for you to be Mrs. Foster Blake.”

“Mrs. Foster Blake,” she repeats. “It sounds so formal. Do you care if I introduce myself as Mrs. Fozzie Blake? I was actually thinking that my new stationery should say that. It’s more fitting.”

“Now, you want stationery?”

“It’s a requisite. A lifetime without it would be impossible. How else would I write thank-you letters for crystal vases and silicon sex toys over the course of many, many years?”

“Yes, how else could you?” I remark, playing along with her diatribe.

“A brainy Einstein quote imprinted on the bottom would be an appropriate tagline. I was thinking
E equals MC-squared
or something brainiac-like to pay homage to your leader in all things genius. If you have any thoughts, I’m open to suggestions.”

“I wouldn’t call him my leader.” I chuckle. “However, he was once quoted as saying,
Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love.
He then went on to say that chemistry and physics could never explain such a phenomenon, and love was all about relativity. What do you think of something like that?”

“I think that will suffice.”

“Then, it’s settled.” I caress the back of her neck and rest my forehead to hers. “Mrs. Fozzie Blake, it is.”

“I’ll order the stationery as soon as we get back.”

“Make sure to get matching envelopes.”

Kissing her hot mouth, I press my chest to hers and ease her back to the blanket, taking as much of her as she allows. Resting on my side, I run the pad of my fingers along her firm stomach and up to her breast, lightly grazing her nipple with my thumb.

“Are you taking advantage of our last moments alone?” she asks, reaching for the waistband of my swim shorts.

“You would be disappointed if I didn’t.”

“True. I do enjoy how much of an opportunist you are.”

“I like to play the odds.”

Positioning myself over her, I kiss the skin from the curve of her neck to the space behind her ear as she hooks a leg over mine. She grips my ass and—

God, I’m like a teenager. Hard as a rock already.

“Looks like someone didn’t get enough before we left the room,” she teases, nipping at my ear.

“Evelyn,” I breathe, “I could never get enough of you.”

“That’s an acceptable answer.”

“I wasn’t aware I was being quizzed.”

“Don’t worry. You’re acing it. Gold stars across the board. An A-plus.”

Closing my eyes, I exhale heavily and then roll off my fiancée, settling into the space next to her.

“Got your fill already?” she asks, dancing the tips of her fingers down the center of my stomach. “Are you done with me?”

“Definitely not.” I rub my forehead and then adjust my aching dick. “But we should stop before I rip your clothes off even though there isn’t much of them.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I knew we should have gone to the private beach,” I mutter to myself.

She giggles. “It’s okay, Fozzie. I understand. I wouldn’t want you to get a sunburn on your ass anyway.” Evelyn quickly kisses me on the cheek and then rises from the warm sand, brushing some of the white and pink granules from her tan thighs. “I’m going to take a dip. Do you want to join me?”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Why not?”

“The tent is still pitched, and it makes walking a little uncomfortable. I don’t need people staring at me in all my teenage-boner glory.”

She smirks and playfully shrugs a shoulder. “Suit yourself, but save some of that boner action for me for later.”

“I’m sure I’ll have plenty for you later.” I laugh.

Evelyn playfully raises her brows and flirtatiously nips at her bottom lip before skipping like a schoolgirl into the waves. She wades in to where the turquoise water meets her waist, twisting from side to side and skimming the reflective surface with her fingertips.

Her free spirit, her friskiness, and her liveliness are what drew me to her in the first place, and I hope she never loses that part of her.

As I watch her playing in the sea, diving her blonde head under the breaking water, warmth spreads through my chest cavity. This dynamic girl is mine. Soon, very soon, she’s going to be my wife, and she will spend forever with me.

She chose me.

Evelyn

Coming up to the surface, I clear the salty water from my eyelids and focus on my surroundings. To the right, the sea spans for miles into the horizon, and to my left, lying in the sand, is my future—Foster.

In about two days’ time, he and I will be married and joined together forever. Life with a man like Foster is eons from what I imagined for myself when I was younger. We have so many differences. Unlike me, he is serious, is well put together, and reads comic books on occasion even though he never talks about it. I’ve seen the collection from his youth. His mother had it shipped to our new home a few weeks ago with many of his other belongings, including a very-embarrassing-to-him Star Wars action-figure collection. I might have indulged him one night and replayed the scene where Luke gets some Jedi training from Yoda in the swamp, which later progressed to me searching for Foster’s lightsaber.

He and I do have our similarities, too, which is another reason I never would have imagined myself with someone like him. It’s strange, upon reflection, to think that I’m with a man who encompasses characteristics I despised and ran away from my whole life. He comes from a family of a certain social status and wealth, just like myself. It was my goal to flee from all the expectations that came with money and power and those of my parents, yet I find myself willingly marrying into them. It’s because of him.

Somehow, I fell in love with a man who is nothing like that of my dreams. He’s the man of my reality, which is better than any wish I could have ever conjured.

Treading out of the surf, I pad through the sand to where Foster is lying on the blanket, not far from a family of four setting up on the beach. I smile at the thought that, one day, Foster and I could be just like that family, tromping our tired asses to the beach with bags of supplies to keep our kids occupied through the day while we sip on margaritas and soak up the sun. It doesn’t seem like such a bad future at all.

I quietly tiptoe toward Foster, careful not to let my shadow cross his body.

Tilting my head, I ponder my soon-to-be husband, relaxed and unaware of my presence, and my heart beats a little heavier than it did before. He’s my best friend and my love. I’m so lucky to have both in an amazingly sensual and fun-loving package.

He likes to play, just as much as I do.

Thank goodness for that.

In one quick movement, I plop my wet body on top of his, smothering his sun-soaked warm skin. He sucks in a sharp breath.

“Gotcha.” I giggle, sliding my slippery arms around his torso. “You’re trapped under my power.”

The temperature between my wet body and his dry one melds together to make one. Foster wraps his sandy palms around my waist, hooking them together, and tugs me closer into him.

“Now, we’re both caught,” he counters, smiling his mouth against mine.

“I don’t know about that. I don’t feel caught.” I graze my lips over the shell of his ear. “I don’t think that’s what this is at all. What do you call it when you end up right where you’re supposed to be?”

Foster simply replies, “The perfect chemistry.”

TWO

Foster

“So, I just spoke with my mother,” Evelyn says, entering the bedroom portion of our suite.

It doesn’t escape my attention that she’s promenading around in a white lacy lingerie set. Sometimes, I wonder if she realizes how easily she turns me on. She likely does, and in all honesty, she likely flaunts herself openly to see if I’m paying attention.

“They’re all here—my dad, my sister, and her husband—and they will meet us at the restaurant.”

“Good.” I button up my striped blue shirt. “My family is settled in as well. They said they’ll meet us at the restaurant, too.”

My whole family has flown in for the wedding—my sisters, my brother, grandmother, and a number of cousins. However, only our immediate families will be getting together for dinner. Tomorrow, the real festivities begin with everyone, including our closest friends, but for tonight, it will be Evelyn, myself, and our parents.

The smaller gathering with Evelyn’s parents was my mother’s idea. Her parents are notably practiced when it comes to socializing and creating relationships, and my mother has a lot of experience in those matters as well. She insisted that an earlier meeting between our sets of parents would start the event off right and allow both sides to work together more easily. My mother is a wise woman.

Our families have been doing business together for a few years, and we plan to work together for many more in the future. Evelyn’s family’s advertising firm currently represents my family’s pharmaceutical venture on a skin-care line, and their help has launched the products into a well-known growing brand. Not that I’m surprised. Their New York-based advertising firm is one of the most respectable and successful businesses in the field.

It’s wonderfully coincidental that everything worked out between my fiancée and I the way that it has even though it was never by anyone’s design, other than our own.

Evelyn steps in front of me. “Here”—she flips up my collar and then proceeds to drape a slate tie around my neck—“I like this one.”

“I do, too.” I quirk a brow. “Since when do you like to dress me?”

“I prefer to undress you, but this is fun, too. Any excuse to touch you works for me. Plus, it’s wife practice.”

I still her hand, working the tie. “Say that again.”

“What?”

“Wife.”

“Nope. Can’t do it. I’ve met my quota for the day. You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow.”

“I’ll count down the minutes.”

Evelyn wraps the fabric over a few more times and then tightens the knot. She folds down the shirt collar and then straightens the tie along my chest. “Perfect,” she proclaims.

“A work of art.” I kiss her in thanks.

She turns on her heel, and I give her ass a light tap before she makes her way to the other side of the room while I continue to dress in front of the mirror.

“When is the car coming?” Evelyn asks, digging through the closest for what I assume is the perfect outfit.

“In about twenty minutes.” I tuck in my shirt and then fasten my belt buckle. “Are you going to be ready by then?”

“Yep.” She slides into a sultry-looking red dress that hugs every curve of her body.

Evelyn sidles up next to me, turns around, and sweeps her long blonde hair over her shoulder, silently asking me to help her with the hard-to-reach zipper. I pull it upward, sealing her into the garment, and then fasten the small hook at the top. She releases her hair, allowing it to fall again down the length of her back, and then she turns and quickly kisses me on the mouth.

“Thanks. You’re the best. I’m going to finish doing my hair.”

“Twenty minutes,” I remind her as she slips into the bathroom.

“Roger that, Fozzie.”

I can’t help but grin at hearing her call me Fozzie.
Really?
Where does she come up with this stuff?

When Evelyn and I first met, I wasn’t ready for her, but in retrospect, she was just what I needed then—and now forever. She brought
life
back into my life.