Authors: Cristiane Serruya
He closed the door and they walked hand in hand to their suite, passing by their children’s suites, her studio and the small private sitting room adjacent to their bedroom.
“Will you untie this for me, please? I think it turned into a knot,” Sophia asked, turning her back to Alistair.
“Sure.” He slid the vivid-red shawl off her shoulders, folded it in half, and laid it over the armchair. He untied the knot and massaged her neck. He unzipped the back of the dress and let it fall to the floor.
Then he realized that he was undressing her and that he didn’t want to stop.
Her bra came off next.
His hands ran over her velvet arms and settled on her round hips, pulling her against his erection. He whispered in her ear, “I’ve never unwrapped such a beautiful and loving present.”
She shivered and turned to look at him, with parted lips and suspended breath.
Hello, Lord Sexiness. It has been a while.
“Sophia,” he whispered when she got closer. Her sweet scent of roses, oranges and vanilla wafted over him. She slid one delicate hand across his chest, the gentle touch stirring the coals in his gut, making his skin tingle with anticipation. “I think I’ll never get enough of you.”
I hope so.
The longing in his voice made her heart beat faster. Eyes heavy with desire, she brushed her lips across his, letting him know she wanted him as much as he did.
He drew in a breath at the slight contact, his senses kicking into high gear at the supple feel of her mouth.
Be gentle.
Her tongue licked his lips, coaxing him to open, and those smoldering embers burst to life at the feel of her silky wetness. A need to taste her rushed through him like lava. His lips parted, searching and he took her lower lip between his teeth, biting it, as she divested him of his trousers and boxers.
When her feminine hand circled and tightened around his erection, his loud needy moan surprised even himself. He opened his forest-green eyes, a burning desire in them. “I’ve missed you.”
Very much.
“I did too,” she whispered, “my lover, my love, my life.”
“I love you,” he breathed. His long ink-black hair framed his face as he looked down into her swirling yellow-diamond eyes. There was a fire, a burning flame inside them that was drawing him closer and closer with its spell.
Laying her down on their bed, he whispered on her lips, “I’m going to make love to you, Sophia. But I’m doing it nice and slow, even if it kills me.”
The tenderness in his voice just made Sophia want him more. Breathless, she looked up at his face. She wanted to close her eyes and at the same time she didn’t want to miss the passion in his face.
She looked down, the sight of him fisting the base of his thick erection making her needier. She wrapped her thighs around his tapered waist and cried out when Alistair eased slowly inside her tightness, the erotic burn of being stretched open by something so rigid. “Oh, so good.”
Sophia buried her face against his neck and pressed tightly against him, moaning, as his thick, hard arousal slid deeper inside her.
“So warm, so tight. So mine,” he growled. The sensation of entering her became amazingly intense, the snug and perfect fit of their bodies making him burn. He slowly started to rock his hips until he was fully settled into her.
Control yourself, Alistair Connor. Control yourself.
It was the last coherent thought he had, the only one he could focus on as he leashed in his desire, waiting for her. He managed to ask, “Fast or slow? Tell me what you want.”
“Fast, hard,” she moaned, hurting to come. She dipped her hands in his silky, long ink-black hair and ordered, “Rough.”
He groaned in pleasure and took her mouth in a scorching kiss as he picked up the pace.
“Alistair,” she moaned. “I need—”
“I’m here, Sophia,” he groaned. His free hand settled between them to stroke her clitoris, as he thrust up with more force. “Come for me.”
Paradise. My paradise.
“I’m coming,” Sophia cried, thinking she was going to die as waves of unending climax slammed into her.
He slowed his thrusts to deep, violent jerks, and his entire body tensed. His arm hooked around her waist to lock her against his chest, and his body jerked violently one last time as he came, shouting her name, delirious pleasure rippling through him.
They clung to each other, panting for air, their hands tightening around their bodies, anchoring themselves as they came down together from their fierce orgasm.
“I love you,” he breathed against her skin and brushed a kiss on the top of her shoulder, rolling over and pulling her with him.
With her eyes closed, she whispered sleepily at him, “I love you more.”
He didn’t have time to contradict her because Sophia’s breathing had already deepened.
For a few minutes, Alistair listened to the beating of his own heart as her sleeping breath feathered over his chest. He thought about the deep connection they had and he was sure this was just another shift on the long endlessly journey of their souls, where they encountered each other from the beginning of the world. Its many twists and turns had caused them to meet and to morph but their essences were and would always be the same until the end of time.
A peace he was again growing used to made him close his eyelids too and fall into a deep and restful sleep.
Epilogue
Ells Hall.
Sunday, April 22
nd
, 2012.
11.33 a.m.
The cool spring morning slid toward a sultry, lazy sunny day.
Her large, black-haired, rugged husband lay sprawled on a huge blanket made of the MacCraig’s tartan colors with their dark-haired son, his spitting image, lying on his naked chest.
Sophia had a strange sense of
dejá vu
as she heard the baby’s giggles over a deeper rumbling laughter. She could see them there, only a few inches away from her as she leaned on her elbow next to them.
And with a dreamy sensation, she stretched out her hand to touch them almost not believing all the changes she had unquestioningly welcomed in her life.
Alistair’s familiar shoulder was hard and stable as rock and her hand moved for her son’s cheek, its softness completely fascinating her. The sunrays that poured through the leaves shined on their ink-black locks making the sight even more magical.
Gabriela’s and Ariadne’s playful squeals reached them before they arrived, running with Tavish, Valentina and Victoria behind them.
Tavish’s sea-green eyes softened when he took in the scene of his sister-in-law, brother and nephew in perfect harmony. “Sophia, I’m taking my godson to take his bath.”
She smiled at him and said, “Aren’t you a wonderful nanny, Lord Perfect-Godparent?”
Tavish smiled happily at her and picked Peter from Alistair’s chest, cooing at the baby, who gurgled at him happily.
“He might be ready for his sleep too,” Sophia said, standing up to caress Peter’s hair. “I breastfed him a while ago.”
Girlish giggles and Alistair’s deep laughter made her turn.
Ariadne and Gabriela were perched over Alistair’s strong shoulders and Valentina and Victoria knelt in front of the three whispering in secrecy, while he bobbed his head, grinning widely.
Sophia could bet they were planning a big surprise to celebrate her upcoming birthday. She raised an eyebrow at Tavish, who winked at her and mouthed, ‘
Mad Hatter’s Tea Party’,
before saying out loud, “Come on, girls. I have to give Peter Liam a bath and put him to sleep while you prepare your other chores.”
The twins and the girls ran away teasing Tavish, who shook his head and calmly followed the group.
“It’s funny how we rarely see in advance when the most important incidents in our lives are unfolding,” Alistair said when she sat back on the blanket beside him, laying down and pulling her with him.
She looked up to see two small yellow butterflies dancing around each other over them.
“When I met you, I could never have imagined my whole life would change to such an unrecognizable extreme. And more, that I’d commit so that I would make room in my heart not only for such an unending love, but that I could be a father again, to two beautiful children. To set aside my own interests, and give my family, my time, my love, my life.”
“You know, Alistair Connor, it wasn’t only you.” Studying the bewitching courtship dance of the gracious insects flying above their heads, and realizing that from cocoons either beautiful butterflies or ugly moths could come. “I think this unwavering acceptance of our metamorphosis is proof of our trust in ourselves and in the gracefulness of life. Every day, we undergo transitions in our lives. Our toiling, fretting and anger are useless against the turning tides of nature.”
“Some adjustments came easily, without conscious effort,” he said, looking up at the bright blue sky. “Others required… a bit of understanding, of letting go. Now Gabriela, Peter Liam and you will always come first. My children will not grow up to say they never saw their dad because he was at work. I want to be a positive role model, involved in their lives, a loving, silly, annoying and a disciplining father.”
“Your deepest change, my love, came from opening up what was already inside you.” She smiled, bewitched at his words. She put her head on his chest and felt his heart beating under her face.
Almost absentmindedly, she began to stroke a circle around his nipple. She loved the feel of his skin. His wonderful scent reminded her of sweet wood, a mix of vanilla and oak. It was earthy and male as the Highlands. “I remember when you told me you were a selfish man, on our first outing; and then that you’re guilty of sins, which weren’t yours.”
“What you never believed me to be. Neither selfish, nor guilty,” he said seriously.
What if I hadn’t trusted my instinct?
“When I hear you talking now, of such selflessness and patience… Those are the most precious gifts a man can give his family, my love. This is my best birthday. I couldn’t be happier.” She brushed her lips against his.
Neither could I.
“I know.” He smiled smugly at her and Sophia rolled her eyes at him.
He became acutely aware that they were alone and that she felt divinely soft, lying over his hard body. He thrust his hands in her hair, whispering, “I love you.”
They looked at each other as if they had just met.
They kissed as if there was no tomorrow.
And they made love knowing their hearts would be united forever.
Acknowledgements
I found many, many friends along this long and arduous road and here I thank them, in alphabetic order, so not to hurt feelings, and because you all are as important as the next one. If I forgot to name someone, believe me, you’ll always be etched in my heart.
To my terrific beta readers, whose inestimable opinions helped me a lot: Eugenia Jaeger, Haylee Tippett, Leta Fisher, Natalie Gerber, Niyati Mavinkurve, Stacey Price and Svetlana Len.
Also, I have to thank my especial Advanced Readers:
Aarati S, Jillian Michel,
Linda Sims,
Sónia Costa and Tammy Thompson.
The precious bloggers, whose arms were always opened to interview me, post my opinions, read, review, and promote my books; love and hate Sophia, Ethan, Alistair and even myself; without you, the Trust Trilogy would still be lying somewhere in the back of my drawer, collecting dust:
Ana Neves at O Mundo Encantado dos Livros;
Braine at TalkSupe;
Divya Nambiar at Criti…que…not…Criti..cize; Gillian Pemberton at Tatooed Book Review;
John Henneshy at The Write Thought;
Mason Canyon at Thou
ght in Progress; Melissa Robles, at The Reader and the Chef; Michelle Bowman at We Love Kink; Nyiati Mavinkurve at Books, Food and Me; Sónia Costa at SBookLover Reviews; Samantha Martin at FairieTaleBooks; Roxanne Roads at Bewitching Book Tours,
WildAboutBones, at Cover Reveals and @CoverReveals
; all the bloggers on Facebook, and so many, many others that these pages wouldn’t be enough.
To a few Goodreads
nominated
friends, - you represent many others too - who have helped me along the road when I needed it. Thanks, you are awesome:
Aaron Powell, for all your tips, and for our many chats. Ah! And yeah, for teaching me that sometimes saying ‘
F*** you, bitch!’
is okay and relieving, although I’m not quite used to it yet. ‘
Damn you!’
still sounds better, Marine;
Dolors Casas, for gifting me Fernando Pessoa’s
The Book of Disquiet
. It has become one of
bedside-shelf
books; and especially for your inspiring and sensitive insights regarding Vietnam and Cambodia - and the artistic photos taken by your boyfriend,
Aitor Bòrras
- which took me there when my broken foot kept me here, chained to a wheelchair. You became a most special friend, Dolors;
Edward M Wolfe, for being so intuitive, sensible and a witty man, who knows how to treat women. Your messages always put a smile on my face and make me laugh. You are a rare specimen;
Jillian Michel, for your incomparable contribution, catching the last infernal typos, which drive me crazy; and for your impressive punctual remarks, which made me feel that I had done the correct thing, even if that was making you cry. Sorry, dear, but pregnancy hormones are deliciously infectious;
Leta Fisher, the blonde, smiling mermaid, for taking such extraordinary photos of my books;
Niyati Mavinkurve, for your discerniment and understanding of the Indian female society. Don’t you ever stop dreaming;
Sagar Das (Silvermoon), my intelligent, geek friend, for your assistance dissecting the confusing world of White, Gray ad Black hackers and auto-destroying passwords;
Sónia Costa, for being so true about this illusional world of writing. I guess we discovered its truthfulness together;