by Mignon Mykel
“I’m a little scared,” her voice cracks, echoing the feeling in my chest.
“Me too,” I admit. “I want to make it work with you. More than anything, I want you.”
“Same. I want you. Let’s try—us.” Lark stands and pulls me to my feet. “Take me back to bed, right now.”
Her eyes are more green than brown, like the water out her back door, and I want to swim in them.
Maybe forever.
For two weeks, Lark and I spend our time together in a solid routine.
Talking. Having sex. More talking. Sharing. Getting to know one another on a deeper level, all while having great sex.
It’s perfect. From the first time I kissed her and every single time since, it’s a heady rush. The desire that flows between the two of us—it only gets better with Lark.
Being with her is so easy, she leaves me wanting more.
She’s helping me figure out what’s next for me as I help her with her workouts. I’ve been watching her practice with Holly, and they are more than ready for Tokyo.
“Can you zip me up?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder.
“With pleasure. You look fucking gorgeous.” My fingers ease the metal up her back, and I’m enveloped with the scent of vanilla.
“I’m not upstaging the bride, am I?”
“Who cares if you do.”
Splashing some perfume on her wrists, she laughs. “I do. Although in that suit, you’re giving me so many reasons to skip this wedding.”
My hands slip over her bare shoulders. “This dress is the only reason I need to skip Anson and Claire’s wedding.”
She’s wearing a sleeveless red dress that shows off her gorgeous figure. Lark slides past me, making sure her curves brush against me as she does. Her hips sway, making my blood simmer.
“Actually, what’s underneath it has me more intrigued.”
Lark bats my hand away. “Yeah, you’re going to get lucky tonight. But we’ve gotta get going.”
“Fine.” My hand dances over the curve of her hip. “As much as I want to get you out of this dress. I can’t wait to show you off tonight.”
“I like the sound of that.”
To my surprise, things between Claire and me went well. After the ceremony, I hugged her and congratulated the two of them.
They had a small intimate ceremony. It was very personal and honestly beautiful. Claire cried while my brother held himself together.
Cheers erupt, and booze flows heavily when Anson and Claire walk into the party. Mom cornered Lark at the dessert bar thirty minutes ago. And I stand with my sister, Rikki, watching the happy couple as a server offers them flutes of champagne before they walk toward us.
“Thank you for donating to our foundation,” Claire tells me.
“Yeah, and for the personalized luggage. That was thoughtful,” my brother adds.
Thank you, Kandace.
“You’re both welcome. Is that a new tradition? Opening the gifts before the wedding?”
“It’s kind of trendy,” Claire says. “Having the gifts shipped to the house is way easier than having someone haul them back to our place.”
“Where are you going on your honeymoon?”
Anson laughs. “I’m surprised Mom didn’t let it slip.”
“We’re going to Tuscany,” Claire says and hugs Anson.
“Oh, you’ll love Tuscany,” Rikki begins. “We had a blast when we were there.”
“Have you and Lark been dating long?” Claire asks, a hint of uneasiness rings in her tone.
“It’s still new, but we’ve known each other for years.” I take a sip of my drink.
“Come on wife, let’s dance,” Anson says and drags her away.
Rikki looks up at me. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.” I stare at Lark for a long moment, studying every line and curve of her face. The lights from the room seem to follow her everywhere. All those brown waves, shiny and thick, cascade down her back.
I picture Lark’s creamy ass encased in black lace. Fuck, I need to think about something other than Lark naked.
My sister’s rambling on about Tuscany and all the wonderful bread and pasta. The words barely register because Lark turns toward me. The breeze toys with the slit of her dress.
What are you wearing underneath that dress, babe?
“. . . so yeah, I highly recommend creamy Tuscan salmon. It’s to die for with the spinach and sun-dried tomatoes. Gosh, Brenner. I can’t believe you haven’t been to Italy, like ever. Maybe you’ll take Lark?” She bumps my elbow.
“Yeah, maybe. If she wants . . . anything she wants.”
“Omigod, you really like that woman. Are you in love with her?” she whispers behind her water glass.
Lark looks at me and I’m lost in her eyes, but I get myself under control.
“I don’t know. It’s possible.”
“Like I said, you will make a wonderful husband someday.”
“Really never thought I was the marrying kind.”
“Some men never do. All it takes is the right woman.”
Rikki glides off to help Mom with something, and I head to the bar. It’s been a nice event, but I’m exhausted from smiling and the general chit chat. I’m more than ready to get Lark home.
“So, you’re dating Lark Saddler,” the words come from Sebastian.
I lift the bourbon to my lips and swallow. “And you’re still not dating Lindsay.”
He shoots me a glare. “You know that I can’t do anything about my feelings for her.”
“Bro code is for bros, and you’re not a bro. You’re a successful businessman. Nolan would be lucky knowing that you’re taking care of his little sister rather than some douchebag with zero going for him.”
He sips his cocktail and bobs his head. “So, how’d you meet her?”
“It was years ago at a team party. At the time she was in a relationship . . . but now, she’s all mine.”
“How’s that gonna work?”
“Apparently you haven’t read the latest news, I quit my job.”
He stares at me, the shock visible on his face. “You’re leaving GSN?”
“Already left,” I confess. “And now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take that gorgeous woman home and worship her body.”
He slaps my shoulder. “Happiness looks good on you, buddy.”
I make my way toward Lark, and she flashes me a smile. I pull her into my side. “You about ready to get out of here?”
“Definitely ready to show you what’s not under this dress,” she whispers.
My eyes go wide. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
She gives me a slow nod. “No panties.”
“Fuck, Lark,” I hiss.
After we say goodbye to my mom and a few other guests, I haul her out of the reception and down to the valet. My fingers itch to touch her silky skin. The restraint I’m exercising right now is a feat of epic proportions.
I’d ordered a car service for the night, unsure of where the evening’s festivities would end up.
We slide into the back seat, and I push the button for the privacy screen. Lark spreads her legs for me. She’s on full display, smooth and luscious.
Jesus Christ. Stars flood my eyes at the sight of her glistening pussy. I tease her folds with my fingers. I’ve never been this hard in my life.
Instead of fucking her in the back of a town car, I wait and haul her ass through the front door of her home, right back to her bedroom.
I eat her up and swallow her release as she screams my name over and over. My name on her lips as she comes is etched on my brain and in my heart.
Lark skips off to the bathroom and the cold, heavy ache of reality climbs in and settles in my gut. I’ve got to go back to New York and tie up some loose ends.
She returns wearing black panties and a thin ivory tank top. Her brown hair is a messy halo, she’s got a sex kitten look going on. “The bathroom is all yours,” she
says, tucking herself under the blankets. “And I’ve cleared a drawer for you in the closet. If you want it.”
“A drawer, huh?”
Lark reaches for the bottle of lotion on her nightstand. “Yeah.”
“I’ve gotta go back to New York,” I blurt.
She glances at me, rubbing the scent of vanilla over her arms and hands. “You want me to come with you?”
“Can you, I mean, with your training schedule and don’t you have some matches coming up?”
“Yeah, I suppose I should stick to my plan. How long will you be gone?”
I ease up from the bed. “Long enough to pack up my place and put it on the market. I need to talk to my accountant, then see about getting a place here.”
“This feels so crazy. Are you sure about all this?”
I walk into the bathroom and flip on the light. “You offered me a drawer. I know our lives might seem worlds apart, but I never forgot you, Lark. So yeah, I’m sure about all of it.”
“I sing in the shower,” she announces.
I peek my head around the corner with my toothbrush in hand. “I know.”
“I do yoga in the living room when it rains.”
“Which is hardly ever, and I know.” Watching Lark do yoga on the deck and in her backyard has become one of my favorite pastimes.
“I bake every Wednesday morning. A lot. Banana bread, chocolate chip muffins . . . what’s your favorite pastry?”
I finish brushing my teeth and rinse. My shoulder rests on the threshold. “You’ve been keeping a secret from me. I’ve been here for two weeks and I haven’t seen a single loaf of banana bread.”
“Well, there hasn’t really been too much time for baking,” she teases.
“What are you going to bake for me, babe?”
“I’m addicted to that show, Pioneer Woman. I’m considering making some cinnamon rolls tomorrow for breakfast.”
“But tomorrow’s Sunday. Not Wednesday.”
“I’m unpredictable like that.”
“I’m a little messy,” I tell her. “Not a total slob, sometimes I leave dirty dishes in the sink. I have a pair of shoes by every door.” I tug my boxer briefs over my hips. “I will always put the toilet lid down. I do laundry every Friday night unless there’s a Stingers game.”
She was silent for a moment. “I can live with all that.”
“And I promise to not overstay my welcome,” I sit beside her on the bed. “Because I really want this to work between us.”
“I’ll even help you look for a place here.”
I shift to kiss her. “I’ll be dragging you to a lot of open houses.”
“I’m up for the challenge.”
7
Lark
Nine months later
“Happy anniversary, babe,” Brenner singsongs and places a stack of pancakes in front of me.
“Anniversaries call for pancakes, huh?”
“And fresh fruit,” he adds and places a plate piled with sliced pineapple, strawberries, and raspberries in front of me.
“Which anniversary is this?”
Brenner loves any reason to celebrate. We find so many reasons to be grateful. I guess we’re lucky that we have so much to be happy about—he makes me so happy.
“Well, four years ago, you and I had our very first breakfast together. You had pancakes and I had an omelet.” He takes a seat across from me and sips his coffee. His espresso eyes rake over me as he runs his tongue across his lips.
Things have been going well, even though I’ll have to wait until next year to get my hands on Olympic gold. Tokyo, along with the rest of the world, has been postponed. I’m looking at the silver lining—more time to practice and polish up my techniques.
We’re at Brenner’s place in Hermosa Beach. After the Olympics postponement, he insisted that I stay with him. He didn’t want me to be alone. Not to mention, his place needed some major redecorating. The location is perfect, the seventies look is not. We had a lot of fun designing it together. Now it has a relaxed boho beachy vibe.
If you want to test the bounds of a new relationship, take on a redesign project. We navigated through that successfully. Which led us to discover a shared passion for stalking real estate properties online.
We found that we both love Malibu properties. One in particular . . . one of Frank Gehry’s earliest properties—The Tin House.
“I love that day,” I tell him and shovel a bite of the buttermilk fluffy goodness into my mouth.
He winks. “Me too. So, what are your plans for the day?”
“Afternoon workout, then I’ll probably go for a swim and work on my tan. What about you?”
“Well, I’ve got some exciting news to share,” he drawls out.
“Don’t keep me in suspense. What is it?”
“Stingers called me with a job offer . . . general manager.”
“What? That’s amazing.”
“Apparently, I was on the shortlist for the job.” He pops a pineapple chunk into his mouth.
“Are you taking it?”
Brenner nods over the rim of his coffee mug. “If the contract is right, I’m definitely excited about the opportunity.”
“You will be the best general manager ever.”
“I’ll give it all I’ve got, that’s for sure.”
We stare at one another in-between bites of the delicious food. Everything with him feels right. I knew it the moment he came back into my life. Our worlds collided, and something snapped into place.
Brenner was the piece of my life that I’d been missing the most. Someone to share my experiences with—good and bad. He supports me and my dreams.
I hope I’ve helped him as much as he’s done for me. I might not know his entire life story, but I know him, the person underneath. The man who gave me some life-changing advice.
The pull between the two of us is magnetic and it’s more powerful now.
“Since you cooked, I’ll clean up. It was all delicious, thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Brenner kisses me and I nearly melt.
I might have thought I’d never find a man who made me feel this special, but life threw Brenner my way, and I’m so grateful.
Brenner leaves the room to take a call while I busy myself with cleaning up the kitchen. I stare out the window, over the pool and down to the beach. It really is a gorgeous day outside.
For some odd reason, my grandma pops into my mind. Usually, it’s a Dolly Parton song or the smell of sugar or figs that reminds me of her.
I think she would have liked Brenner. Sadness washes over me that she’ll never get to meet him.
If they’d met, Grandma would force food on Brenner even when he wasn’t hungry. And Grandpa would sneak Brenner off to his study and watch baseball. An avid sports watcher—horse racing, sailing, fencing—if it was on, he was watching. Ultimately, I think that’s why he ended up liking beach volleyball so much.
But baseball was his absolute favorite.
The thought makes me smile and I put all the sadness back into its assigned space. I’m folding the kitchen towels when I hear Brenner call me from outside.
“Hey, Lark, come here, would you?”
“Be right there,” I call out.
I walk outside to the pool deck. The sun feels good on my skin.
“Where are you?”
“Down here on the beach.”
I look over the railing and see about two dozen yellow and blue beach balls in the shape of a heart in the sand.
“What’s all this?”
“I wanted to tell you that I love you, Lark.”
We haven’t said those words to one another yet.
“You sure?”
“Never been more certain of anything in my life,” he responds and climbs up the steps toward me.
He reaches for me, sliding his hand down my arm and taking my hand in his. Touching him, being this close, it’s overwhelming. Life threw me a curveball when I stumbled into Brenner’s path. A sim
ple talk with a man I barely knew had a profound effect on the direction of my life.
“Uh, Lark.” His brown eyes bore into mine.
“I love you too,” I confess.
“Yeah?”
I lift a shoulder. “I might have known for a while now.”
Brenner wraps his arms around me. “I love you,” he murmurs, his lips on the corner of my mouth. “So damn much it hurts.”
“And I love you.” I kiss him.
Love. Something I didn’t think existed. But I’m here to tell you it’s real.
He grips me by the back of my thighs and picks me up. My legs wrap around his waist.
“Time to celebrate.”
I laugh and kiss him. “Any excuse to mark an occasion.”
“I’m going to mark you,” he hisses.
We don’t make it to the bedroom. The rug in the living room is as far as we get. Brenner frees me of my clothes. His fingers draw patterns up and down my stomach and over my breasts.
He flips me onto my knees and his fingertips whisper down my spine, and then lower, until he slips one long digit inside me.
“Oh fuck,” he growls. “You’re as wet as the ocean just feet from our doorstep. Fuck, I bet you taste like it too.”
“Why don’t you let your mouth find out,” I tease, over my shoulder.
He gives another growl and slips another finger inside me. “Baby, I will worship your pussy in ways you never imagined.”
“You can put your mouth where your promises are anytime now, baby.”
“Hmm, perhaps another time,” he teases, sliding his cock through my wetness.
“Tease.”
His arm tightens around my waist as he layers his body over mine. Early spasms of my orgasm swim through my legs, backflip into my stomach, and stroke fast into my ribs.
He thrusts inside me. “I’m going to enjoy fucking the smartass out of you.”
“Not a chance,” I bite back.
Brenner pumps into me, his fingers swirl around my clit as he kisses his way up my neck.
“I fucking love you,” he snarls.
“Tell me again.”
“Lark,” he groans. “Oh, I fucking . . . fuck. I love you.”
“Yeah, you do.” I barely get the words out because my orgasm takes hold, sending me up . . . up and over the cliff of ecstasy.