Outer Core (21 page)

When we take a step back and turn to face our family and friends, my smile turns into a smirk I'm trying hard to subordinate. Dr. Grace's glare on me can easily constitute as aggravated assault.

Congratulations and hugs fill in the next long moments. I let Hayley be the focus of that and step back to thank the priest and exchange a few civil words with my father-in-law.

Walking up to the house, my gaze follows Hayley as she's holding Emma with one hand, chatting with her friends and Iris. I look at her with fresh eyes. This incredibly striking woman. She's smiling her heart-stopping smile. A smile that shines from those big browns eyes. This woman in the flowy white dress over golden skin and loose waves. The mother of my daughter, my best friend, and the undeniable love of my life. My wife.

“Hey.” Hayley tugs on my hand as we step up the deck.

“Yes, Mrs. Stark?” I say with a grin.

“Um, when's the wedding night starting?”

My grin doubles. “On it. Let me just get rid of everyone.”

 

 

I drop to a chair, my shoulders sagging as I observe the flotsam and jetsam of the day. Scream, run away, or at the very least, flip off the clatter around me – that's all I want to do. Clearly, it's not what I'll end up doing
. This being an adult thing sucks.

Rolling my cotton dress' sleeves up, I mentally prepare myself to literally get my hands dirty. It's been one of those days when nothing gets done. An orgy of incomplete tasks. The kitchen counter full of dishes and baby bottles, boxes all around me labeled “Kitchen” in black sharpie. A mess that can only be described as white noise that is getting on my very last nerve. I push out a surrendered exhale and dig my hands in the sink.
Why don't you ever listen, ah?
Why do I always have to prove a point? Why couldn't I just say yay to hiring people for the unpacking part too? “Oh, c'mon, it's just a few boxes,” I said. “I don't like strangers touching my stuff,” I said. Not my finest stubborn hour.

I trip over a basket full of dirty clothes as I scramble to find a dishtowel to dry my hands. That's it. I'm calling someone first thing tomorrow morning.

Empowered by my decision, I reach for a bottled water. Something to do with the hand-mouth coordination miserably fails and a stream of cold water runs down the valley of my breasts. Observing the damage with irritation, reaching for the dishtowel again, I murmur, “Fuck me,” under my breath.

A low chuckle comes from behind me. “Is that a request?”

I turn to see Daniel standing at the door, the very picture of hot, tall, and deliciously sinful. His scarred lip tipped, making my own lips follow suit. His crooked smile draws me in, and for a span of a moment, I'm lost in him.

His eyes roam over me, lazily stripping off my dress. I lick my lips, scanning him appreciatively from head to enticingly bare feet. “Oh, yeah,” I say in a smoky voice. “It was indeed a request.”

An extent of a blink is the exact length of time we manage to hold our faces straight. Our eyes, wrinkled at the corners, dance at each other. His light chuckle and my easy giggle meet. Daniel holds out his hand with a tilt of his head and a thin smile asking me to join him. I take a few steps to reach him, lacing my fingers with his.

In pleasant silence, we cross the inky lit living room. As though reading my thoughts, Daniel stops by Emma's room. Standing in the doorframe, we both pause to watch our Em, a sweet, serene expression on her adorable face. I rest my head on Daniel's shoulder, drawn to his warmth. And everything feels better. He dips to leave a kiss on my hair and tugs on my hand, signaling for me to follow him.

“What's that?” I say in surprise as we round the corner to the master bedroom of our Baja home. Nearly six months after tying the knot in this exact location, we finally moved in. From the door, I study the medium size, light blue box in the middle of our bed with two forks on its side.

Daniel pivots my way, his joyful eyes on me. “Brought you something from home.”

I release my hold on him and near the bed. I lean in with two hands on the bed, my leg slightly raised up for balance, and read the label on the box. A wide grin colors my face in happiness. I turn my head to look at Daniel over my shoulder. “If I weren't already married to you, I would marry you all over again.”

Daniel's bad-boy grin makes an appearance. “Just stay in this position with your sublime ass up in the air and we're good.”

Biting on my smile, I slightly shake the praised body part. Before my next exhale, large hands grab me by my hips, pulling my ass back against his jean-clad groin. I let out a surprised squeal, finding myself unceremoniously flipped over on my back. Daniel nudges my legs apart, causing my knee-length dress to pile up in a heap of fabric on my hips. He holds himself above me by his arms on either side of my head, his face tipped down at me. A few clusters of golden hair fall on his forehead, nearly hiding his arched brow. “What will it be?” he says in husky timbre. “Me or the chocolate cakes in that box?”

I put on a grave expression, bringing my finger to my lips. I tap them lightly, twisting my mouth from side to side. I sigh. “Tough choice, to be honest.” Daniel narrows his eyes at me, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “And just so you know, calling those Pavés ‘chocolate cakes' is blasphemy!”

Daniel hangs his head down in defeat. He slightly shakes it from side to side, pushes himself to drop on his back beside me. “I never stood a chance, did I?”

I turn to lie on my side, facing him. “How about we share?” I wiggle my brows.

He cranes his neck to look at me, rolling his eyes animatedly.

“A moment, please.” I smile. “I'm just going to change into something less wet.” I wave at the front of my dress.

He shakes his head, stopping me by a grip on my wrist. “Just take it off.” The rough edge of his voice seeps into my core, spreading warmth.

I lift my dress up my thighs and stop. “I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

A flirty grin adorns Daniel face as he sends his hand to the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head.

Sitting on the bed cross-legged in our underwear, facing each other, I ever so carefully lift the lid. “Beautiful,” I say reverentially.

“Hales, it's a fucking cake.”

I lightly shake my head, putting a finger to my lips, and shush him. I dip a fork in the layered delight of chocolate heaven and bring it to Daniel's mouth. His amused mouth closes around the fork. Retrieving the fork, I bring it to my own mouth, sucking on the taste of faint sweetness and Daniel. “Perfect,” I murmur.

Taking a forkful for myself, I lick my lips and say, “Thank you for bringing me this cake all the way from home, I'm grateful for everything you do for me.”

A soft smile comes as a response. “I'm grateful for everything you are.”

I bring another spoonful to his mouth and lean in to press a kiss on his lips. He sends his hand to my cheek, in a soft caress trailing it down my neck. His finger moves along my bra strap, slowly reaching the mound of my breast. A light shiver runs through me as the palm of his hand hovers over the cup of my bra. His voice is a tone rougher as he says, “I'm grateful that even after all this time, this is your response to my touch.”

My mouth dries and my lips part as he sets the box aside and pulls me to sit astride him. Daniel's lips trace the path of my skin his hand left a moment ago. His hands come to my waist, gently caressing up my back till they clutch around my shoulders. Gently, by the hold of his hand on my shoulders, he arches me back. His mouth descends to my bellybutton. In scorching kisses and a mix of gentle sucks and bites, he makes his way up my stomach, between my breasts, along my stretched neck. With one hand still holding me arched, his other splays between my breasts, slowly moving to lightly squeeze one while his mouth kisses the other. Through the lacy fabric, he sucks on my hardened nipple. A needy whimper floats from my lips. He eases back to push the fabric down, exposing my breast to him. He slowly bites on my nipple, only to soothe it with his tongue right after. The sensation spreads in my body in a warm wave. My breath becomes heavier when his free hand slides inside my panties. When I say his name on a breathy expel, he tilts me forward to look at him. With his eyes captivating mine, his fingers find me, and slowly, excruciatingly slow, dip into me. I hold his stare as I send my hand to his boxers, to wrap around him, high on the raw sound reverberating from his chest.

My hand sliding around him and his fingers working my desire, we meet for a wild kiss. Fighting for domination, for more. Consuming each other's taste with our mouths. Daniel lifts us up enough to free himself from his boxers, never breaking our kiss. A moan travels from my mouth to his when he pushes my panties aside and sinks into me. Moving around him, I cup his cheeks, my eyes swallowing him in. His brows set in concentration, his scarred lip agape, letting his labored breaths caress my lips. I tip enough for my tongue to roam over his lips, for my mouth to kiss the scar on his sharp cheekbone. The feel of him in me, the erotic sounds coming out of his lips as he pleasures me sends a surge of heat climbing up my thighs, washing over me in inconceivable pleasure. I'm quaking around him, my core shaken, a light shiver bathing me as I drop my head back and through moans of ecstasy say his name.

His hands swing to my waist, shifting my body so he can reach deeper in me. His grip on me becomes tighter as he works my body to ride him faster. When I tighten around him and call out his name this time, my name comes out of his lips in a strained harmony to his last forceful drives.

“I love you,” I whisper next, rested on his chest, in his arms.

“Love you, Hales,” Daniel says, tracing little circles on my skin.

 

It's just another day. Uneventful. Another day that when the first stars appear in the calm Baja sky; I linger for a brief moment on the patio, soaking in the exotic breeze that has become familiar, then return inside to our home, feeling utterly content and blissful. Utterly complete.

With our baby tucked in bed and me being held in the arms of my Daniel, I feel like I am filled to brimming and I breathe a contented sigh.

We both freeze at the demanding wail coming from the room next door.

“For fuck's sake,” comes a husky grumble. “How can something so sweet reach those decibels?”

I lightly chuckle and murmur through a yawn, “Your turn.”

I wait for a few moments to pass and for silence to blanket our home before tiptoeing to Emma's room. This never gets old. The sight of Daniel singing to our daughter, rocking her to sleep.

Yes, it's just another day. And it's everything I've ever wanted. And more.

Thank you
so much
for taking the time to read OUTER CORE. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review or recommending it to a friend. Thank you for your support!

Also, I more than love hearing from my readers, honestly, it's the best part of the whole writing process. So, send me an email at:
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Thank you for allowing me to share my stories with you, and I hope to be re-invited to your bookshelf with my next releases.

 

Sigal

THANK YOU to every single person out there who read the series! Thank you for reviewing, messaging, emailing, loving, liking, and spreading the word.

* Just between you and me, I'm playing with the idea of a spin-off book about Ian and Tash. So maybe this isn't really the end of the Stark series period. . .

Big thank yous for those who helped, encouraged, and shared with me the fun experience of writing this book. Kiki, the most enormous thank you goes to you! Thank you for always willing to listen to my crazy stuff.

Sam, I'm incredibly grateful for your friendship and everything you are.

Nicole Hornbaker Langston, first and foremost, for getting me! For your great play with words, and making my writing beautiful. Reading your notes is almost as enjoyable as writing my stories.

Jenny, for always giving my work the last needed polish and perfect tweaks.

An inner debate starts between my head and the rest of my instigated body. Wake him up and beg for more vs. control myself. The verdict rendered is based on the logic of probably never having this opportunity ever again. Enjoy it while it lasts. In other words: have that candy, life's too short.

Shutting the mental door on my manners, suppressing desires, mature behavior, and oh, self-respect, I slowly inch toward the bed. Contemplating how to approach the waking process, I decide to, ahem, return a favor, as they say. Slowly, I sit on the bed next to his handsome, serene self and reach ever so gently to remove the towel hugging his loins, allowing myself better access to wake him
up
. Having a fist full of the towel in my grip, with my head tilted toward my target, I hear a soft, embarrassingly petrifying chuckle. I'm not sure what occurs first, the eruption of flames that cover my face or the jump my eyes take to meet a very sexy, amused gaze. I must look like the girl caught with her hand about to violate the cookie jar.
Oh Lord, the road to ultimate self-humiliation never ends.

The grin he sends me next, after I timidly smile at him, might have just disintegrated the stiches of my skimpy panties. His eyes turn to bore on me in tandem to his tongue playing with the edge of his front teeth. My heart starts to beat in double pace as the notion of what's coming next registers. My lips gape and the center of my body burns as, with my eyes still glued to his, I slowly lean in toward him. Abruptly, he breaks our promising eyes connection to look out the window.