Outer Core (18 page)

Ian snorts, his face alight with mischief. “Stammer much, Barbie?”

I give both Ian and Tash a “behave, kids, or there's no dessert” look to which they both roll their eyes and right after trade an amused glance.
Kids, sometimes it's all about attention.

Daniel chuckles and turns to resume his conversation with Steven. A warm fuzzy feeling powders my belly at how well my brother and Daniel get along. When Daniel offers for Steven to stay at the Baja house with his friends for their upcoming break, my smile grows at my father's failed attempt to hide his complacency.

“So, Natasha darling, how is Thailand? I've wanted to go there forever, but somehow, Derek and I always end up vacationing in Boca Raton.” My mom shrugs; the apples of her cheeks rosy and her eyes shining.

“It's unlike any place I've been to before,” Tasha says, smoothing her deep midnight mini velvet dress. “In the best of ways. At first, I was overwhelmed by just how different it is from everything I know. To me, Bangkok is so diverse and colorful. Beginning with the street-sellers, Tuk-Tuks, multicolors everywhere, it even has this unique exotic smell, and then there are the modern skyscrapers and a multitude of temples. Not to mention the mentality that's so different from ours.”

“Now you just made me want to go there even more.” My mom nudges my father's arm while smiling at Tasha.
Hint, hint, Dr. Grace.

“I'm so glad for the opportunity of experiencing it as a local. It changes your entire perspective of a place when you get to explore it that way.”

Scanning the room, I sigh in sheer contentment.
Oh, for goodness' sake, would you just stop?
I force myself to push down the lump forming in my throat back to the bottomless emotional pool it surfaced from. I leave my seat and take one next to Iris. “How are you doing?” I say.

Her kind smile climbs up to her eyes as she takes my hand in hers. “How are you feeling, precious? You lost some weight, didn't you?”

I study her pale, delicate face. She looks tired, light purple hue lining her eyes. Yet she looks much better than she had the last time I saw her. Maybe it's her inner joy that's reflecting from her eyes or her overall serene aura. “I'm doing well. You look better.”

“There are days, and there are days.” She squeezes my hand. “I'm going to get better. There's no chance I'll let anything prevent me from seeing my grandchild. Not even an asshole disease.”

Tears pool at the corners of my eyes, and just before I'm about to embarrass myself in a hormones induced meltdown, my phone pings with a message. Reading the text, my eyes jump to Daniel's.

Daniel: Look at me, baby.

Sending me a soft smile, his thumbs work the screen.

Daniel: Ready to take a short break?

Sass pulls my lip up into a half-smile.

Ready to up my Daniel intake by a bazillion percent, ASAP!

Not more than five minutes later, Daniel locks the laundry room door behind us and turns to me.

I thread my finger through his belt loop, pulling him to me. I watch him, his eyes smiling at me. Tan and scruff enhance his handsome features, scars accentuated by the low-hanging lamp. “Looking very handsome tonight, Mr. Stark.” Handsome is such an understatement for Daniel in gray slacks and a white button up.

“You look like something I can't take my eyes off of,” he says to my neck. “Or can't wait to taste.” His lips touch my skin. “Touch.” His hand hovers over my breasts. I close my eyes with the surge of pleasure. “Bite.” He lightly bites my earlobe. “Devour.” His mouth seals on mine and does just that.

I fluff the pillow, making sure that what I've properly concealed is hidden underneath. Waiting for Daniel to come out of the shower, I turn to give myself another look in the walk-in closet mirror. My lips tip up. Daniel will definitely be pleased with my attire. The blush-pink babydoll is demure and sexy at the same time. The underwire cups enhance everything that's already naturally enhanced while the silk garment ends just shy of my knee, spilling softly over my skin. To the sound of the bathroom door cracking open, I switch the light off and return to the bedroom.

“Oh hi,” Daniel says, feasting his eyes on me. Sending his arm to my waist, he pulls me closer. Pressed against his freshly bathed chest, I take a lungful of heady Daniel scent. “Now, you look like the perfect dessert.” I smile under the press of his lips on mine. Daniel's right hand on my waist tightens while his other trails over my bare back down to my silk-clad rear. When his lips touch my neck, tracing kisses down my shoulder, I squint my eyes to check the time.

“I think everyone really enjoyed themselves tonight.” I stall for time, waiting for the clock to strike midnight.

“Yeah, especially your father.” Daniel feathers his tongue over my collarbone.

I close my eyes, giving in to the sensation of Daniel's talented mouth on my skin. “He seemed to have warmed up to you by the second glass of scotch. Guess, we'll just have to keep him inebriated.”

“Maybe we should stop talking about your dad when I'm seconds away from desecrating his precious daughter.”

I squint at the clock. Easing off, I tip my head up at Daniel. “Um, before any desecration takes place, there's something I want to give you. Though hold that thought for later.” I give him a suggesting smile, which he mirrors.

“You are all I ever need,” Daniel says in a husky voice, his hand sliding into my panties.

Fondly, I push him back. He eyes me in humored surprise as I shake my head. I point my finger, gesturing for him to sit on the bed.

Daniel chuckles. “Bossy . . .” He drops himself back to the bed. Lying on his back with his head on his folded arms, he sends me his inviting askew smile.

I take a seat next to him under his persistent stare. “It's officially after midnight,” I say and lean in to press a supple kiss on his lips. “Happy birthday.” I deepen the kiss.

Daniel watches me with an easy smile as I ease to sit and send my hand to my pillow. I get the wrapped gift, which all of a sudden doesn't seem as awesome as I thought it would be. I hold it to my chest, worrying my lips for a stretched beat.

“Isn't this the part in which you're supposed to give me the gift?” Daniel asks, his lip tipped up.

I press the present tighter to my chest. “I don't know. It doesn't seem as great right now. Forget about it. Um, I'll get you something else.”

Daniel inches to sit, holding his hand out. “It's mine, right?” I slightly lean backward, keeping his hand away. He shakes his head, and I find myself flat on my back, my hands pinned above me and the wrapped gift in Daniel's hand. “I'll release you only if you promise to behave.” His eyes dance in joy, assessing me.

Seeing as I don't have many options, I reluctantly say, “Okay.”

“Fine.” He releases me but not before planting a noisy kiss on my lips. He arches a scarred brow in mocked warning.

I raise my hands, signaling I'm not going to break my promise. Covering my eyes with my hands next, I watch him unwrap my gift through my fingers. Focused, Daniel observes the vintage leather journal. I let my hands drop to my thighs, watching him attentively as he flips the cover and reads the dedication.

35 years of you has made this world a wonderful and better place. Happy Birthday. Love, H.

The look in Daniel's eyes as he gazes at me causes butterflies to flutter around my stomach, en masse.

“Um, before you go on,” I say. “Maybe I had better explain what it actually is.” A timid smile suffuses my lips. “These illustrations, the story they tell, hinge around me falling for you.”

Holding the notebook in one hand, Daniel shifts to rest on the headboard. He motions for me to sit closer to him, and I do, settling myself between his parted legs, I ease back to lean on his chest.

With his hands around me, Daniel sets the notebook on my bent legs. Slowly he turns the page to the first sketch. A sketch of me looking down at a stain on my white blouse, frowning, captioned by “Is that a request?” A light chuckle comes from behind me, followed by a kiss on my hair and a turn of a page. My lips pull up to the next drawing of me wrapped in Daniel's embrace on a dancefloor. The sketch I've entitled
The Best Kiss of My Life
. It's a caption of the night I realized he was it for me. After a silent moment, Daniel brings his hand to my cheek, turning it for his mouth to meet mine for a kiss that doesn't fall short of the one portrayed in charcoal.

Securing his embrace around me, Daniel resumes turning the pages, each representing another snippet of the story of us. My heart flutters when he takes his time observing the sketch of him with a guitar cradled in his arms, next to a bonfire. “Hales.” My name is a soft whisper.

“True,” I say to the words decorating said sketch. The Night You Stole My Heart. The way he kisses me next, the tenderness, the slow, gentle touches that gradually develop into sensual seduction, make us pause for a few good moments that end with our breaths labored and tangled sheets.

In our own little bubble of us, we go through the pages. When Daniel turns the next one, our chuckle comes out in unison. It's a drawing of me, wrapped in a cardigan, a garter peeps from under the sweater, my expression of a deer caught in the headlights.

“This is gold. Probably one of my favorite times ever,” Daniel says amused. He's referring to the time I surprised him at his office for a little sexy time rendezvous, dressed as a highly paid escort girl, only to find a room full of people staring at me as if I were indeed a member of the soliciting community. When our chuckles wind down, Daniel resumes turning the pages.

My heart squeezes a little when Daniel says, “Best decision of my life,” to the illustration of a small square box nestled in an open glove compartment, also known as his proposal. The same pang returns to the sketch of Daniel walking on a seashore with a little single candle cupcake in his hand. What made my twenty-fourth birthday one of the most memorable ones. The next page, the one after the drawing of my hand with my engagement ring, makes him stiffen behind me. I slowly turn my head to look up at him.

“A girl?” he asks, his voice holding a beautiful candor of awe and emotions.

I swallow over the immediate lump in my throat, trading glances with Daniel's eyes and the drawing of a pregnancy test stick with the words “it's a girl” in the little window. Choked up, I nod.
These mushy, girly hormones are going to be the end of me.

With utter tenderness, Daniel closes the notebook and sets it aside. With no less tenderness, he lays me back on the bed. Crawling on top of me, he holds himself above me. Soulful hazel eyes gaze at mine. Slowly, he leans in, his stare back and forth between mine and my parted lips till he is close enough for his mouth to brush mine. Soft kisses dot my face, my mouth, the corner of my lips, my eyes. “Thank you.” The words travel from his mouth into mine. I close my eyes, savoring his taste. When his mouth leaves mine after long, intoxicating minutes, it's only to trail down, to relish every piece of my skin. As though unwrapping a delicate gift, he carefully slides the fabric of my negligee up my thighs, and higher, following the heaping garment with warm kisses. My eyes softly close as his tongue slowly traces a scorching path between my hipbones, just below my swollen belly. It feels like time stops as Daniel cherishes my body, gently and painstakingly affectionate.

 

I'm taken aback by the sporadic flashes coming from the theatre's entrance hall. “Oh, there are photographers,” I murmur. To say that Urban Heartbreak's premiere is extravagant would be stretching it, wildly. But apparently, modest as it is, it still drew in a few news outlets to cover the low-budget, indie film premiere.

To my sudden hesitation, Daniel, who's holding my hand, turns my way. “You okay?”

I tip my chin ahead. “Didn't take that into account.”

Daniel searches my eyes. Reading my concern, he says, “I don't think they'll be interested in anyone but the cast.”

“Besides one B-list actress, they're all unknown.” I worry my lips. “I'm sure your presence here will make at least a tiny splash.
You'll
get noticed, that's for sure.” My eyes drop to my belly. If they catch me on camera this time, it will look as though I had more than a burrito. Maybe three burritos with extra beans and a jug of Coke. The thought of making the tabloids again makes me stay put. To think they may somehow bring back the last time Daniel's name was mentioned and the reason, especially in my current condition, doesn't appeal, to say the least. “The reason your name was mentioned in the tabloids the last time is still sort of fresh. I don't want them somehow linking it to me being pregnant and . . . that.”

Daniel nods, his jaw clutched firmly. “What do you want to do, then?”

I look up, meeting his stare. Weighing the options, I take his hand in mine again. “Let's just get in. Whatever happens, we'll just go with it.” The last part comes out on an exhale.

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark!”
Immense surprise.
An insistent photographer tries to get Daniel's attention the moment we enter his periphery. Seeing there's really nothing we can do to prevent being photographed, I turn in my spot, my body flush against Daniel and press a kiss to his mouth hoping to take the attention from my bump to the lip lock. On the way, I make sure Daniel's body is blocking mine.

Tipping back a little to look at me, Daniel says in a low voice, only for me to hear. “Talk about just going with it.”

As we make our way inside the venue, the photographer gives me a thumbs-up. I wink at him, making sure my large envelope clutch is concealing the part of me I rather not have captured on camera.

I look around, searching for Tasha, who should be getting here any moment now. Her flight landed about an hour ago. I'm excited to see her again and surprising Ian at the same time. It's been two months since I saw her last. Video chats have nothing on genuine bestie's face-to-face, heart to heart, quality time. I manage to give Ian a quick hug and whisper a few words of encouragement before he is swept away, again, for group photos or whatever movie people do on premier nights. The reception is a relatively intimate and elegant affair. Bubbly drinks served by a couple of all-black donning servers. The sounds of elated conversations, laughter, and some infrequent demands by the photographers blend with the pleasant instrumental music. When the lanky adorably flustered producer concludes his brief speech with a skittish toast, the guests drink up and join him and his cast in the theatre.