“That would be cool.” I turned and headed for Dolly Bird.
I hesitated at the ladder, remembering my nakedness. Then I recalled how Sullivan had been buried between my legs this morning. He’d seen everything. What was there to hide?
I climbed out.
He hoisted himself onto the swim deck as I reached for a towel. I felt so free, so happy, so at one with nature and with him. I rubbed the drips from my face and hair then wrapped the towel around myself, feeling cool now that I was wet and in the breeze.
He did the same then wrapped a towel about his hips.
“Shall I pop the cork on that bottle of champagne?” he asked as I sat at the small table. “Celebrate your first sighting of a sunfish?”
“And my first naked leap from a boat.”
He grinned and kissed me. “Yes, that too. Lots of firsts, in fact.”
He disappeared below deck and I sat back and sighed. It was all so exciting, so much fun and off-the-scale sexy.
I glanced around for my shell, the one Sullivan had plucked from the seabed the day before. I frowned. I couldn’t see it. I hoped it hadn’t gone overboard when we’d had the sails up earlier and been whizzing along.
Sullivan appeared with the champagne and two flutes.
“Here,” he said, setting everything down onto the table.
He was still wearing nothing but a towel and his hair was mussed up. The sun glinted off his broad shoulders, and the hair in the center of his chest was damp and curled like long commas against his skin.
I pushed my own, messy hair behind my ears and hoped the mascara I’d put on that morning had been true to its waterproof promise.
“I’ve lost my shell,” I said, “the one you got me yesterday.” I frowned.
“No, you haven’t. I just saw it.”
“Did you? Where?”
Sullivan popped the cork with a loud bang. “Quickly, glass,” he said, laughing as froth slid out the top.
I giggled and rushed to reach one. I tipped it at an angle as he filled it with fizz.
He poured the other glass then stood at the end of the table.
“Cheers,” he said, raising his drink.
“To happy holidays,” I said.
“And happy ever afters.” He tipped his head back and took a deep drink.
I watched him then took a sip of my champagne.
“Your shell,” he said, placing his glass down. “It’s here.” He pulled it from a small rucksack he’d placed on the deck earlier.
“Oh, good. I like it a lot.”
He held it to his ear. “The trouble is, there does seem to be something inside it.”
“Really?” I felt slightly alarmed. “Alive? Maybe we should put it back into the water.”
“No, I don’t think so.” He shook it and it rattled. “Here, you take a look.”
I took it and copied him, giving it a little shake. It seemed there was something small and hard in it. I tipped it over the table, wondering if whatever was in there would come out. It was likely a stone or another piece of shell, by the sound of it.
What I hadn’t expected to rattle out was a ring. A silver ring set with an oblong stone of pure blue surrounded by tiny diamonds.
“Sullivan,” I gasped.
He reached for it. It looked tiny in his big fingers.
My mind spun and my pulse raced. A million thoughts rushed through my head.
“Kay,” he said, dropping to one knee and holding the ring between us.
“But I—”
“No, please, hear me out.”
“I—”
“No, I need this moment. Please let me have it.” He pressed his lips together and pulled in a deep breath. “I love you. I want to be with you, forever. And before you say it’s sudden, it isn’t. We’ve been in a relationship for a year and faithful to each other. You’re all I want, all I need and I can’t imagine going on without you. Please, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Well, it’s—” I shook my head, hardly believing what he was saying.
“I know you’ll tell me it’s hard when we live on different continents, but it isn’t, not really. We can decide together what to do. We can stay in Oxford if you want, and I’ll put management into the Seattle office and set up a sister group of my business in England, Oxford to be precise. It’s something I’ve been considering for a while now. Or, if you want, come to the States. I’ve got a house all ready for you. You could lecture in Seattle, or not. Do what you want to do. I’ll give you everything that I am, I promise.
“Sullivan, I—”
“And the age difference—I hope you’re seeing beyond that now. Because really, I didn’t think it would be an issue. A fun surprise maybe, but—”
“Really?”
“Yes, but I’m a dork, clearly.” He tapped the heel of his hand against his temple. “Just didn’t think. But I’m fine with it, more than fine. And I hope you can see that we’re perfect together. Nothing as simple as a number could ever come between us. Not in my eyes, anyway, and I hope not in yours.”
He reached for my left hand.
“Kay, I know you had your heart broken by Thomas’ death, and if I could turn back time and stop you from going through that pain, I would, but I can’t. You’ve said it yourself—he’d want you to be happy, and I want to be that person to make you happy. I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for those dark, black places you’ve been to. I want to show you the world, have adventures with you, enjoy everything the future has to offer, together. And if you want a long engagement, I’m cool with that, or we’ll marry next week. Suits me to make you my wife as soon as possible. I—”
“Sullivan, stop.” I pulled my hand from his and captured his cheeks. “Are you going to let me get a word in?”
He looked a little sheepish and shut his mouth.
“Good.” I smiled and leaned closer, speaking onto his lips. “Because I only need to say one word, and that’s yes.”
“Really?” His eyes widened.
“Yes, really. Of course, I thought about it, a lot, before we met. And now… Well, let’s just say you’ve proven to me that you’re man enough for the job.”
“Oh sweet Lord, you have just made me the happiest, proudest, most…everything.” His eyes were a little glassy as he took my hand from his face and slipped the ring onto my finger.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, gazing at it then back at his face.
“It’s a blue diamond. I ordered it hoping it would remind you of the colors in Greece—the sea, the sky.”
“Your eyes.”
He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, as though dashing away whatever moisture was there. “Well, if you want to get romantic…” He laughed, rose from his knees then leaned in close. “I guess that’s true.”
“I like romance.”
“I know, and you’re going to be romanced forever, by me.” He grinned. “Mrs. Cole. Oh, that name suits you.”
“Does it?” My chest was ballooning with happiness. I felt giddy, dizzy with it. I was going to marry Sullivan. It was real. After all of these years alone, I was going to be a wife again, have a husband to spend my days and nights with.
“Yes, it most definitely suits you.” He kissed me.
I curled my hands over his shoulders. This new man of mine was gorgeous. How the hell was I going to keep my hands off him? Would we ever get out of bed?
“Who invented towels?” he said, plucking at the one I had tucked around my torso. “Because this one isn’t needed.” He pulled the folded section, and it unraveled and fell away.
“Mmm, much better,” he said, kissing down my sternum and fondling my breasts.
“Well, I think if you have such an aversion to towels, you should lose yours, too.”
“Not going to argue there.” He flicked his away then eased me down onto the bench so that he was lying over me.
I parted my legs and he settled between them. His cock was hard and prodded at my inner thigh.
“I only ever want to do that once,” he said, smoothing his hand down my body.
“Do what once?” I glided my hands over his shoulders.
“Propose. It was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done.”
“I’m sure it didn’t scare you. Not really.”
He frowned. “Hell yeah. What if you’d said no?”
“I love you,” I said, “that’s why I wouldn’t have said no.”
He shook his head a little. “I couldn’t predict your answer.” He paused. “Damn, I get the feeling you’re going to keep me on my toes. This time yesterday, I thought I’d wasted a heck of a sum of money on a ring and a holiday and completely messed this up, messed
us
up.”
“Nothing is messed up now.” I flicked my hand to study the ring over his shoulder. “It is beautiful, and the color”—the flawless stone glinted in the sunlight—“will always remind me of this moment.”
“This moment?” he asked, easing his cock into my entrance.
“Oh…yes…” I clung to him and curled my legs with his.
“Or this…one…?” he said then groaned as he buried himself balls deep.
“Oh, God,” I gasped. “Yes, that one. Oh…more…”
“I’ll always have more for you, more of everything,” he murmured against my lips. “I love you, Kay, and I promise I will for the rest of my life.”
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
What’s her Secret?: Breathe You In
Lily Harlem
Excerpt
Chapter One
Kisses as soft as kitten’s whiskers trickled down my back, fluttering, floating, spreading into the dip of my spine and onto the rise of my buttocks. I sighed and squirmed, just a little, inviting more of the blissful sensations I was being woken with.
Matt ran his finger down my side, from just below my breast into the hollow of my waist. So light it was barely a caress, so gentle it was hardly there. It tickled but in a good way, and I smiled, my cheek bunching on the pillow.
I could picture him hovering over me, ruggedly handsome, with his morning stubble heaviest on the indent of his chin. His broad shoulders and thick biceps would be tensing as he took his weight through his arms.
“Mmm, that’s nice,” I murmured, shifting my legs and wondering where his touch would travel next.
The duvet twisted around my ankles. I was naked, but my skin was warm—the night-time had done nothing to ease the English heatwave.
More sweet kisses, down my left leg this time and onto the back of my knee. I nibbled my bottom lip and forced my body still. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to just lie there. My need for my husband was so big it was an energy that could give birth to stars. He was my everything, my world, my reason for breathing—the man I got out of bed for every morning.
I turned but kept my eyes closed, enjoying the remnants of sleep and the waft of his breath on my stomach, my breasts and my neck. I stretched my arms above my head, arched my back and pointed my toes, waiting to see where he would adore me next.
Was it Sunday? I hoped so. That way we could stay in bed all morning, worshiping each other’s body, connecting our souls, feeling whole.
“Kiss me,” I mumbled, tilting my chin and expecting to feel him pressing his lips to mine. “Matt, I want you.” I smiled as I spoke and reached for him.
Birdsong filtered into my consciousness. The treetops outside my bedroom window were home to a family of doves, their coos a near constant melody. I pictured them, fat breasts, pale feathers, their devotion to each other endearing.
“Matt,” I said again, flailing my arms.
As I’d spoken his name, the ‘a’ had caught in my throat. A strangled feeling clawed at my neck, and a rush of agony tumbled into my chest. I let my hands drop heavily onto the mattress.
My favorite part of the day was over. That empty moment between sleep and awake, horizontal and upright, before reality kicked in and dreams held court—when my memory hadn’t remembered.
I shivered as kisses turned into a light breeze weaving through the open window. I kept my eyes tightly shut, hoping that might stop the usual tears from forming. But one persistent drip grew and seeped out anyway, its journey down my face unhindered by me. What difference did one more salty addition make when there’d been so many?
The usual leaden anvil of grief grew fat and ugly in my belly. All day and all night it would sit there, generating nausea, hopelessness and depression. I hated it, that damn grief. Why couldn’t it let up, just for a few minutes? Why did it tail me like a ball and chain?
I tried to shift my thoughts back to a few minutes ago when Matt had been with me, kissing me, touching me. So many times he had, more than I could count. What I wouldn’t do to be with him again, just once—just one night to say goodbye.
Was that too much to ask?
Of course it was.
A sudden rattle and the rev of an engine made me jump—the neighbors cutting their lawn at some ridiculous hour. I glanced at the clock. Well, it was gone ten, so I couldn’t really complain. For a moment I thought I’d had a good, long sleep, but who was I kidding? The sun had been washing the eastern sky pink before I’d even lain down.
Bracing myself, I sat. This was the first hurdle of the day, getting out of bed. Most people rose, put their feet on the floor, and that was it. They were off. But that chunk of lead in my stomach… It made this bit especially hard. For a while, it had been impossible. It was just too damn heavy, and I’d stayed in bed for days, weeks, waiting for it to lighten.
It hadn’t. Not in the least. But I’d learned how to get up again. It had to happen in careful stages. First I let the pain hit—I had to brace for that—then wait for it to settle. Once it had seeped into every pore and my brain had compartmentalized my reality into bite-sized snippets—yes, I’d be eating breakfast alone. No, he wouldn’t be meeting me for lunch. Yes, the bed would still be empty tonight—then I sat and placed my hands behind myself with my elbows locked, kind of like a prop for my torso.
When I sat, that was when I saw him. The picture of us on our wedding day still had pride of place on my dressing table. I’d wondered about moving it, putting it on the windowsill or even downstairs, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Perhaps it was torturous to have him smiling at me from a photograph when he never would again in real life. Maybe it was detrimental to the ‘healing process’. But I couldn’t help it. Looking at him in the morning was a compulsion. He’d been the start and end of my day for so many years. Why should I suddenly change that? How could I just ‘put him away’?