All My Life

by Prescott Lane

  “I’m thirty-three years old. My clock is ticking away.”

  “The truth is, I don’t know,” I say. “You have to understand that while everyone else was partying in their twenties, I was raising a kid. I never got a chance to do a lot of stuff other guys did. I can finally . . .”

  “Party?” she asks snidely. “Sleep around?”

  “No,” I say with a huff.

  “Then what?”

  “Travel. Maybe get my degree.” I tilt her chin up. “Find the right woman, fall in love.”

  “Oh.”

  Giving her a halfway smile, I say, “So honestly, I just don’t know.”

  “But it’s not a hard no?”

  “No, but it’s not a soft yes, either. Can you live with that for now?” I ask, holding my breath. She nods a little, and I sense there’s more. A lot more she needs to say, but she glances away. “Let’s get something straight.” I tackle her down to the bed and kiss her. “You might have known longer how you feel about me, but that doesn’t mean what I feel for you isn’t as strong. In fact, I think what I feel is stronger.”

  She giggles. “Oh really?”

  “Yeah, I’m the man.” I tease. “So by nature that means . . .”

  She rolls over, and I let her pin me to the bed. Staring up at her, it’s so clear how she feels about me. How I missed it all those years, I’ll never know. She hasn’t said it—it’s too soon—but I can see it in everything about her. She loves me—her eyes say it, the sound of her laugh says it, the way her body moves, the taste of her lips. Everything down to her curling toes tells me how she feels. I just had to stop and pay attention.

  She’s loved me in her own way—quiet, secret, soft. She didn’t ask me for anything, she knew I couldn’t give it. Her love is unselfish and pure and given without ever knowing if I’d love her back.

  It’s fast, but that’s the thing about falling for your best friend. The love is already there. You just have to add the sex and boom! It happens, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  DEVLYN

  “Oh God,” I groan.

  I’d come into the kitchen to make us breakfast and somehow ended up hoisted on my countertop with the sexiest man alive between my legs.

  Sex with Garrett is amazing. Everything about it. The man is a god between the sheets. And he is the absolute king of cunnilingus. His tongue is a gift, and lucky for me he’s a very generous gift giver.

  “Not yet, baby,” he groans.

  But it’s too late. Does the man really expect me not to finish when he’s working me over like a machine? My orgasm shudders through me. Most guys would take that as their cue to exit, but not Garrett. He rides the wave with me, sucking, kissing, and licking every last ounce of pleasure. I know he’s also hoping for any sign I’ve got more in me.

  If he keeps lightly kissing me, then he may just get his wish. Running my fingers through his hair, he rests his head on my thigh, wanting more. I’ve never seen a man look so disappointed over giving a woman a mind-blowing orgasm before. It’s the sweetest thing.

  I smile down at him, and his finger lightly traces a circle on the bare skin of my thigh. He senses the clenching of my muscles before I do, a devilish grin on his face. Reaching for him, he gets to his feet, and I draw him to me. There’s more than sex in the way he’s looking at me. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I wish I knew what all of this means.

  Are we dating? Are we a couple? I’m trying my best not to over-analyze it, but it’s not working. He hasn’t mentioned telling Mia about us. That’s not a good sign, and I’m afraid to ask. He didn’t freak when I brought up wanting kids, and frankly, that was a lunatic thing for me to bring up, but it was better than yelling, “I love you.”

  I told myself a lot of lies over the years, trying to convince myself to let go of Garrett. A perfect example is I used to tell myself that if Garrett and I ever slept together, it would be awkward and weird because we were such good friends, but it’s quite the opposite. We are so comfortable with each other, and not in the lazy kind of way couples can get. None of the lies ever really worked, and now I’m convinced I’d never be able to let him go. Maybe now, I don’t have to.

  Scooting off the counter, I let my fingers trace the muscles of his chest. He’s got boxer briefs on, but nothing else. I had him pegged as a boxer briefs guy years ago. He has Mia, so he couldn’t go commando. Regular boxers are too loose. Garrett’s too active to fly free, and my father wore tighty-whities, so it couldn’t possibly be that.

  He takes my hand in his, kissing it gently. How we go from him going down on me to such a sweet gesture in the blink of an eye, I’ll never know, but it works.

  “Good morning,” he whispers. I have to get on my tiptoes to kiss him gently. He lowers his forehead to mine.

  I whisper his name, and that seems to be the key to unlocking his thoughts.

  “I’ve never had this,” he says softly, bending down slightly to look in my eyes. “The morning after.” He must see the confusion in my eyes because he smiles. “I’ve never spent all night with a woman, much less woken up with one beside me.”

  All I can manage to say is, “Oh.”

  “I thought you should know that,” he says. “How much last night, how much this morning, means to me.”

  I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, trying not to cry. I’ve never thought about the things Garrett lost when he had Mia so young. Simple things the rest of us take for granted like waking up with someone, cooking with them, being lazy on the sofa together—he never had. I guess I was too caught up thinking about what I didn’t have to consider what he lost.

  I flash him my naughtiest smile. “In that case, let’s make this morning even more memorable,” I say, slipping my hand under the waistband of his boxer briefs and sliding to my knees.

  If I had a Bible, I’d place my right hand on it and swear this man is hard twenty-four seven. At his worst, he’s sporting a semi. Freeing him from his boxer briefs, I glance up at him, smiling. Impatience shows in his eyes. He’s thought about me doing this. I can tell. I vow not to disappoint.

  I will not rush this moment, but Garrett has other ideas, reaching down and taking hold of himself. Can’t say that I blame him. He’s rock-hard and huge, the thing must be heavy as heck.

  “Let me,” I say, taking him in my hand. Hot and hard, I feel him grow longer and heavier in my hand. Slowly, I run my hand over him.

  “Fuck,” he groans. I’ve had him inside me, touched him, but I’ve never had my mouth on him. When he starts to leak, he begs me, “Devlyn.”

  “Not yet, baby,” I tease him like he does me, and the man actually growls.

  Still stroking him slowly, I plant light kisses on his inner thigh, seeing his toes curl under. It’s hot to have a man want you so much. As I give his balls a gentle tug, his hands fly to my hair, encouraging me.

  I pull back, looking up at him. “Hold my hair back,” I say. “Like it’s in a ponytail.” We both smile, knowing I’m the one who taught him how to do one. He pulls my hair all back, holding it in one hand. “I want you to watch,” I say, giving him one long, slow lick up his shaft.

  “Christ!”

  This is the best tip I’ve ever gotten about giving a blowjob. Ask the guy to watch. Something about watching your lips slide over their dicks makes them go crazy and gets them there quicker. Let’s just be honest, when you’re on your knees—quick is best.

  I slide him into my mouth, getting the first taste of him. The sound he releases makes my thighs tighten. I really need to work on my sixty-nine attention deficit because right now, I want nothing more than to be straddling his face.

  Got to focus.

  I use one hand to pump him while he slides in and out of my mouth and gives my hair a little yank. I can tell he’s desperate to move. Some guys don’t care and will immediately ram themselves down our throats, but not Garrett. Placing my other hand on his ass, I encourage him to thrust.

  I
didn’t think it was possible for the man to get harder, but he does. He starts off very slowly. It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. His dick is almost down my throat—now is not the time to be a gentleman. I increase my speed, letting him know it’s okay to thrust harder, faster. He gets the message.

  The taste of salt hits my tongue as he moans my name through gritted teeth. He sinks to his knees beside me on the floor, pulling me to his chest, cradling me. Just takes one little ole blowjob to bring a big, strapping man to his knees!

  I peer up at him, his eyes closed, completely relaxed. I know every edge of his body, every feature of his handsome face. His eyes open, catching me staring, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a cocky little smile. “Wish I would’ve known you . . .”

  My mouth drops open, and I playfully push away. He starts laughing, tickling me. I spend a lot of time in the kitchen, but never on the floor, naked, in a tickling match. “If you would’ve known I could suck cock like that, then what?” I tickle his abs. “You’d have been with me sooner?”

  His laugh is so loud. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

  “Oh really?”

  He pulls me to him, his hands in my hair. “I was going to say, I wish I would’ve known earlier how you felt about me. We could’ve had a lot more mornings like this.”

  “I don’t think it would’ve mattered,” I say.

  “Of course it would have mattered,” he says, a bite to his voice.

  Reaching for his cheek, I say, “I wanted you to want me first.”

  He says my name tenderly. Years of pain and hurt bubble in my chest. I wish it didn’t. It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re together now, in this moment.

  “I want . . .” His phone rings from the other room, and his eyes dart that way then back to me. “It might be Dad or Mia. I really should get it.”

  Nodding, I say, “Answer it. I’ll finish breakfast.”

  He helps me to my feet, taking my hand. “I want to make you breakfast this morning. Just give me five minutes.”

  Smiling and nodding, I watch him snatch his boxer briefs off the floor and hurry to my bedroom. Garrett is a great guy, but there’s a reason he eats in the diner most of the time. The man can’t cook to save his life. It’s sweet that he wants to make me breakfast, but I’d rather not end up with food poisoning, so I throw some bread in the toaster then head to my room to get some clothes. I don’t think it’s very hygienic to cook sans panties.

  Garrett’s voice stops me at the door. “Mia, please don’t cry.”

  I rush to his side, sitting beside him on my bed. He covers the phone with his hand and whispers he’s sorry.

  “She alright?” I mouth back.

  His head does this weird thing, sort of like saying yes and no at the same time. “I’m sure it will turn up.” There’s a short pause, and his eyes close tightly, hating to hear her cry. “I know we’d never be able to replace it.” Another pause. I assume more sobbing. “Mia, baby, please. I’m not at home right now, but . . . It doesn’t matter . . . I’ll check to see if it’s at home . . . Yes, I’ll call you back.”

  A few seconds later, he hangs up. “Mia alright?”

  “Yeah,” he says, standing up and starting to get dressed. “She thinks she lost her charm bracelet. You know, the one from her dance recitals?” I nod. “She swears she was wearing it when they left for the beach, but now she can’t find it. My dad doesn’t remember. I told her I’d go look at home.”

  “You have to go?” I ask but already know the answer.

  He exhales deeply. “I can be back in . . .”

  I shake my head. “It’s fine. I should go check on the diner anyway, since I took those few days off last week.”

  He captures my hand, a worried look on his face. “Mia tried to call the house a few times. She . . .”

  “Garrett, I understand.”

  I’m not sure he believes me, but it’s true. “Pack a bag,” he says. “Pack a bag to stay at my place. I’ll take it with me. Then just come over after you’ve checked on the diner.”

  I smile. The man wants a guarantee I’ll show. Guess having my toothbrush gives him security that he can hold it hostage.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  GARRETT

  Crisis averted—the charm bracelet was resting on top of Mia’s dresser.

  Some things are chick magnets—like dogs and babies. My daughter is a repellent to the opposite sex. Even from a couple hundred miles away, she can cock block me.

  Rain batters the windows of my house. Summer showers are not uncommon in Eden Valley, but this is a full-on thunderstorm. The wind is howling, the rain coming down in sheets, the sky blanketed in darkness. Some rain can be refreshing, some can be romantic, but this storm isn’t either. It’s ominous.

  I’m worried. Devlyn hasn’t shown up.

  I’m not a worrier by nature. Some people are genetically predisposed to worry, I think. Mia is one of them, so I get it. I’m not. It’s not that I don’t ever worry. I do. I have a teenage daughter, so worry comes with the territory. By nature, I think women are more likely to be worriers than men. My mom was the worrier between her and my dad. Maybe it’s because the female brain is a multi-tasking machine. Men tend to focus on one task, complete it, move on to the next. Women’s attention seems to always be divided among a dozen different things. Seems to me that kind of thinking would cause more stress. Still, I’ve been around Mia long enough to know that child can actually worry about getting worried.

  The terrible rain and Devlyn’s absence are messing with my worry-free attitude. I don’t want her out in this weather. Time to go get her.

  Grabbing my keys, I open the front door, the sideways rain blowing right in my face, but I still spot her. Devlyn is walking down my street, her bright orange umbrella has been flipped the wrong direction by the wind, and she’s carrying two canvas bags on one arm. Yes, she’s the woman who brings her own grocery bags with her to the store. She is just all-around good.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I call out, rushing to meet her.

  “We said we shouldn’t park in front of each other’s house,” she says, giving me a wry smile.

  “That didn’t mean you should walk here in the rain,” I say in disbelief and take the bags from her, guiding her up to my porch. I take her umbrella, examining it. It’s shot, so I toss it on my front porch before heading inside with her.

  Her teeth are chattering, her skin is covered in goose bumps, and there’s not a spot on her that’s dry. She motions toward the bags. “I went to the grocery store. It was bright and sunny when I walked inside then I’m standing at the checkout, and it just starts pouring. That always seems to happen to me,” she says, smiling.

  I start stripping her wet clothes off. “Why’d you even go to the store? I’ve got food here.”

  “Since we can’t really go out, I wanted to make you a nice dinner and . . .” she says, a little sneeze cutting her short.

  Scooping her into my arms, I say, “Let’s get you in a warm bath. You’re ice cold.”

  “I’m fine,” she says. All I can do is shake my head at her. She starts playing with the material on my shirt. “You’re wet, too.”

  “I’ll join you in a minute,” I say, carrying her into my bathroom. “I want to get you something warm to drink first.”

  She kisses my cheek as I place her down next to the tub and turn on the water. I show her where I put the bag she gave me earlier in case she needs anything then head to the kitchen and start to rummage through my kitchen cabinets.

  Mia’s told me enough how bad my coffee is, and I don’t have any hot tea in the house. There’s no cans of soup, either. What the hell was Devlyn thinking walking in the storm like that? Someone seeing her car in my driveway isn’t worth risking getting sick or worse. She could’ve called me to come get her. I shove the box of cereal to the side, spotting some hot chocolate mix. It’s the peak of summer, but I don’t care.

  Pouring some milk in a mug, I pop it
in the microwave for a minute, mix in the powder, and it’s almost done. I reach into the refrigerator for some whipped topping I know is there, spray a generous amount on the top, then head back to the bathroom.

  The door is open. Guess I’ve seen her naked enough that she’s not shy. I see her leg come up out of the water, turning the faucet off with her foot, her toes painted a shiny pink. She’s filled the tub with bubbles.

  I’m frozen, watching her. The way her hand comes up out of the water, the gentle stroke of the washcloth across her skin. She reaches down to her leg, feeling the length of her skin.

  Do all women look this sexy when they’re taking a bath? I can’t take my eyes off her. The subtle way she moves, the bubbles sliding down her skin, I wonder how many men would walk right past their wives or girlfriends and not even pay attention.

  Suddenly, she sinks under the water until she’s fully submerged. When she comes back up, she smooths her hair back, and I bend down next to the tub. Her eyes open, and she gives me a bright smile, taking the cup from me. She doesn’t drink it. She simply holds it in both her hands, using it to warm them more.

  “Did you find Mia’s bracelet?” she asks. I nod, tucking a wet strand of her hair behind her ear. “Where’d you tell her you were this morning?”

  “Working on my motorcycle.”

  “I’m sorry you had to lie to her,” Devlyn says, taking a small sip.

  I feel a heaviness hit my chest. “I’ve been thinking about how to handle this with her.”

  “You have?” Devlyn asks.

  “As much fun as it is to sneak around with you,” I tease, “I don’t want Mia to find out we’re seeing each other from anyone but me.”

  “She’s not a baby,” Devlyn says, sitting up. “She and I have a good relationship. You really think she’s going to flip out?”

  “No,” I say. “But I want to make sure I tell her at the right time, in the right way.”

  “Are you thinking of waiting until she’s at school?”

  I can tell by her posture my answer better be no to that question, and lucky for me it is. “She’ll have enough new things to deal with being away from home for the first time. I don’t want to add to that. I was thinking about after her birthday party.”