Grasping Air (Flipped Book 2)

by Carrie Aarons

  Stanley and Ruth’s clapping slowly brings us out of our trance. Our first kiss as a married couple is over.

  “We’re married!” Peyton whispers excitedly to me.

  Ruth brings us two glasses of champagne, and toasts to the newlyweds.

  “We can do a big ceremony if you’d like after the tour,” I whisper in her ear as we sip on our bubbly.

  “I think I’d rather have a big wedding night, if you know what I mean.” The saucy side of my wife makes its way out.

  Good, I knew it wouldn’t stay hidden for long.

  And now I can’t wait to get her back up to the hotel room.

  29

  Peyton

  “Will you please put me down?” I giggle, biting Jared’s shoulder and not wanting him to do anything of the sort.

  He’s cradling me in his arms as we ascend in the elevator towards his hotel room.

  “Never. I’m not going to put you down for the rest of our lives. Who knows if you might run off. No, I’m definitely going to hold you right here, forever.”

  The smile on his face is electric, reaching into the deepest part of me and lighting me up like Times Square or the Vegas Strip.

  “Hey, we passed our floor.” The red beeping number on the wall keeps climbing.

  Jared’s smirk is devilish innocence. “I may have made some arrangements downstairs while you were in the bathroom.”

  Finally the elevator clicks to Penthouse, and the doors slide open with a graceful ding.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I think I have to pick my jaw up off the floor as my flip-flops hit the gleaming tile of the impeccable suite entryway. Actually, forget suite. This is a mansion perched at the top of a skyscraper. Jared carries me across the threshold of the elevator and then sets me down.

  The entire back wall, and side walls now that I’m looking, are made of glass. Jared and I walk hand in hand toward it, the Las Vegas landscape staring up at us from down below. My eyes travel out to the horizon, and I can make out the desert from all the way up here.

  “Jared, tell me you did not pay for this.” I can’t even turn to him; my eyes are stuck on the beautiful sight of the city below.

  “Well, that would be lying, and I thought husbands could never do that with their wives. So … yes. I paid for it.”

  My gaze sweeps over the white, purple and gray decor of the suite, the way the lines flow and the design looks expensive but tasteful. “This must have cost an arm and leg, you did not have to do this.”

  My husband (eek!) turns to me, his big hands sliding around my waist and bringing me as close as physically possible.

  “I did actually, since I married you in a chapel in Vegas. I want tonight to be special, for both of us. This is our wedding after all. Plus … what’s yours is mine now, so technically you paid for half of it.”

  “Oh you asshole!” I smack him in the shoulder but don’t really mean it. Turning out of his arms, I walk around the suite. “Who says I’m going to give you any of my money anyhow? Hey wait, did you only marry me because I’m a rich old lady?”

  He gives me a stern look, one eyebrow raising. “I’m your old man, remember? And I probably have much more in my bank accounts than you anyway. But I’ll let you buy me room service tonight.”

  Bickering has always been our foreplay, and it’s not failing tonight. Even as a married couple, we’re still at each other’s throats right before we stick our tongues down them.

  “How kind of you, husband.” Sauntering over to him, I begin to push the spaghetti straps of my sundress from my shoulders.

  “I don’t want you taking off any more of your own clothes. That’s my job.” He leans back against the island in the suite’s kitchen, waiting for me to make my way to him.

  “You mean like this?” I slide both straps over my wrists and pull the top of the dress down, letting it pool at my hips as my nipples bud in the cool air conditioning of the room.

  That has Jared storming across the room and trapping me in his embrace. “You weren’t wearing a bra for our entire wedding?”

  His eyes are lava and the sharp outline of his cock is grinding against my stomach.

  “No. I wasn’t. I guess that makes me a naughty bride.” I press up on my toes and gently bite down on his earlobe, smug when a shudder runs through him.

  “You have no idea what you do to me. I love you,” Jared mutters before turning his head and capturing my lips.

  Our tongues seek each other, twisting and showing off as we catapult to a new state of arousal. His hands mold to my breasts, finding my nipples and plucking them.

  “I love how hard your nipples get for me. Beautiful,” he says before bringing his mouth lower, right on to them.

  Jared’s teeth bite down on my left nipple, causing shooting stars to explode in front of my eyelids. I have to grab his shoulders, my nails raking across the soft material of the light sweater covering his muscles. He blows on my wet bud, eliciting a loud moan that bursts from my lips, leaving me breathless and panting at the same time.

  “You’re going to make me come like this.” I throw my head back as he starts on the right puckered mound.

  “Is that a challenge?” Jared’s hands skate down my stomach as he latches onto my nipple and sucks. Hard.

  I swear I see black spots at the edge of my vision, and I’m so turned on I can feel the wetness coating my thighs. “Want you … inside … me.”

  I’m having trouble talking, let alone using any of my other five senses.

  “Happy wife, happy life.” Jared’s grin is evil, and I cup his balls through his pants as he straightens and begins to remove his belt.

  His cock twitches in my palm, the heaviness of it already pushing down on my hand. He’s hot and I know he’s aching, because once he finally draws the zipper down he releases a relieved breath like the jeans he had on were causing immense pain.

  “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Jared bites his own knuckles as I slide the rest of my dress from my hips, letting it pool on the floor. Next go my thin teal panties, followed by my sandals.

  My breasts are heavy, and my lips and clit twitch standing there under his heated gaze. My hand wants so badly to move between my thighs, to give myself some relief … but I know that waiting just a few minutes more for Jared to give me what I need will be so much better.

  “Come make love to me.” I never thought I’d utter those words. They used to make me gag, but now … that’s what we were doing. Making love, showing each other using our bodies how deeply we felt, how much we wanted the other to feel good.

  My choice of words hits Jared square in the heart, I see the moment it happens. His eyes soften, his rigid stance and vise-like grip around his engorged cock become gentler. The edge he usually has during sex seems to leave the room; it’s not longer between us. Not that I don’t love that side of him, but I love this side as well.

  Jared walks to me, and I can feel the energy, the compassion, the lust, the love encircling us. He reaches for my hand and turns, leading me to what I can only assume is a bedroom.

  “Making love should happen in a bed, where you’re comfortable and warm. And I can take my sweet, slow time watching you unravel.”

  He cradles me in his arms again, this time moving us onto the bed. Our bare skin touches everywhere, stoking the fire in me like slow-burning coals. When Jared has me where he wants me, he moves over me, bringing the sheets with him so that they cover our connected bodies. We’re in a fort; the white sheet tenting over his back and head while his throbbing member rests hot between my thighs.

  “I love you, Peyton Hargrove.” He touches his nose to mine.

  “I love you, Jared Hargrove.”

  We’re holding our breath as he pushes inside me, one sweet, stretching inch at a time. Every muscle inside of me expands, taking him with just a bite of pain. Dropping his forehead to my shoulder, Jared breathes a long exhale into my neck when he’s finally in to the hilt.

 
“I can’t figure out if the world is spinning too fast or just completely stopped when I’m with you,” I whisper in his ear, finding it hard to catch my breath as a shaking orgasm threatens to start quakes deep within.

  “There is no world besides us when we’re like this.” His deep brown eyes find mine, his brown hair flopping over onto his forehead.

  I trace the lines of his jaw with my fingertip, and he smoothes some strands of hair behind my ear. He may be fully erect, lodged inside me … but we’re in no rush. We explore each part of each other, feeling skin under our fingertips, discovering grooves of muscle or hiding kissing spots.

  When I can’t hold of the shakes, when my climax is so close I can taste it … I finally beg. “Jared, please. Now.”

  My words are quiet, but he nods into my neck, and slowly draws his hips up. That one movement sets my veins, nerves, muscles, bones on fire. Wave after wave of sensation hits, crashing into me like a fierce current. He pushes back in, slowly but firmly, and I’m gone. His tip hits the fleshy button in the front of my walls while the base of his cock rubs at my clit … and I explode. My orgasm rips through so swiftly that I can’t contain the harsh scream that blisters my throat.

  My nails latch into Jared’s back, the need to pull him closer, to spread myself wider so necessary. He doesn’t stop moving, sliding in hard every time I think the waves will die and starting them back up again.

  “I love you,” he grunts as he pushes in one last time, our eyes locking as I watch his orgasm crest.

  Jared bites down on his lip as his nostrils flare, his shoulders rolling as he grinds and flexes his hips. It’s hypnotizing, the raw, masculine beauty of my husband in such an animalistic state.

  That bed, the covers pulled high over our heads, becomes our love fort. The place that our marriage first solidifies, where we celebrate it and worship each other. And stay hidden away from the world.

  30

  Jared

  By the time the news of our wedding breaks, because some asshole at a gossip site obtains our marriage license, we’re already on break for the week of Christmas. The tour disbands for a short time, and before I can say “Jingle Bell Rock,” I’m on a plane flying to Texas holding my wife’s hand.

  “We can do some house hunting while we’re in town if you want.” I squeeze her hand and try to ease her nerves.

  I’ve never seen Peyton quite so jumpy, but throw the phrase “meet my mom” at her and she practically goes catatonic. I know this visit isn’t going to be all mistletoe and eggnog, but my parents will accept my decision. I haven’t really spoken to my family since the news broke twenty hours ago online, but I have a feeling they won’t be all that pleased that I went and got married without any of them there.

  “Who said I want to settle in Texas?” Peyton deadpans.

  My stomach drops, and it has nothing to do with the altitude. I can’t imagine living anywhere else, much less be separated from my family. I thought she knew that.

  “Jared, I’m kidding.” She smiles and rubs my arm, and I want to slap her ass for pulling one over on me. “Sure, we can look, although I like your place. It’s big enough for the both of us.”

  “Just thought you might like something to start our home in, something you can decorate.” I bend my head to kiss her as the in-flight movie ends.

  Her cheeks turn a sweet shade of pink. “That’s actually very sweet of you, Jared Hargrove.”

  “Just trying to impress my wife, Peyton Hargrove.”

  She hasn’t officially taken my name, she hasn’t had time, but it’s something we’ve agreed to. On our wedding night, she revealed to me that Adams had been her father’s name, and since she hadn’t ever known him, she had no sense of what that family even was. She wanted to take my name, to become a Hargrove and be part of my family.

  And despite her joke, we’d also agreed to settle in Texas. Maybe not my exact condo, but she said whatever made me happy. As long as we could travel. I knew that my little nomad probably wouldn’t stay in one place for too long, so I guess I was going with her.

  “What can I give to you?” The thought suddenly struck me that she was giving me a lot of the things I wanted.

  Peyton was taking my last name, moving for me. But marriage was about compromise; I wanted to do something for her that showed I was willing to sacrifice too.

  “This might be too deep a conversation for JetBlue, but promise me we’ll never get boring. Promise we will still be us, fighting and making up and surprising each other. Promise we will go to the far ends of the earth and explore places we never thought possible. And also …”

  She hesitates, turning to look out the window.

  “What is it?” I pull her chin towards me with two fingers.

  Her hazel eyes flick up to mine. “No talk about kids, at least not for awhile. I … I didn’t have a good childhood, and I’ve often thought whether I’d be a good mother because of it. I don’t want kids yet, and I don’t want pressure from you until I’m ready. I hope you can understand that.”

  I have to eat the first words that pop into my mouth, because they’re defensive and go against all of the things Peyton just said. She may doubt herself, but I don’t doubt her at all. I saw how she was with Ruby, and I know how loving she can be if she just allows herself.

  “Okay … I’ll respect that. For now. But just know, I think you would make a wonderful mother. I know you will. So when you’re ready, we can have that conversation.”

  I kiss her, keeping my eyes open during it so that she knows how serious I am in respecting her wishes.

  The fasten seatbelt sign comes on, and the captain gets on the radio to announce that we’re descending into Dallas. Peyton squeezes my hand on the armrest between us as the plane lands, and I think part of her nerves are from flying and part of them are from the impending meeting with my family.

  “Are we going to your condo first?” she asks as we grab our bags from the belt after getting off the plane.

  “First of all, it’s our home. No more my condo this and my place that. It’s yours too. I want you to think of it like that. But no, I thought I told you. We are going to head straight to my parents because they are hosting a dinner for us to celebrate.”

  “Oh my God. Ugh! Celebrate? They’re probably going to roast me on the spit.” She throws her hands up, going full on drama queen in the middle of the terminal.

  “My wife the exaggerator. They’re going to love you, because they love me. They’ll be happy for us. Come on, my parents already have a bunch of kids and grandkids, what will they care if I add one more?”

  I rub her shoulders as we make our way to the line of taxis waiting. Spotting our Uber, I grab her hand to pull her through the sea of people waiting for a ride. After we exchange pleasantries with the driver and load our bags into the car, we set off to my parent’s house. Downtown Dallas is all dressed up for Christmas, fake Santas and red and green twinkling lights hung over every available surface. There is no snow here, it’s not even really chilly, but I’ve spent every Christmas here and there is something magical about the way people do Christmas in the South.

  Looking over at Peyton, I lace my fingers through hers. Her head bobs back as her eyelids close droopily. One thing I’ve learned about my wife is that she is carcoleptic. She has an uncanny ability to fall fast asleep in the car, even if she wasn’t even tired to begin with. Good, I’m glad she’s getting a little rest. Lord knows I haven’t let her get any since we got married just over a week ago, and she needs to be rested to meet my family. I may have told her it will all be fine, but I know my mom will for sure give some push back, if not a lot of my family. But she’s my wife now, I’ll stick by her until my dying breath.

  My parent’s house, a big old white farmhouse with a wrap around front porch, is located in Collins County, a suburb about an hour outside of Dallas. It was a great place to grow up, and our four acres was perfect for the six rascals my parents brought into the world. With five other siblings, it
was never boring. But it also was never quiet. I love my siblings, and I sympathize for the childhood Peyton had … but sometimes I wonder what it would be like not to be part of such a big brood. To have a mom and dad who were only focused on me, and not running in seven million directions.

  Peyton is snoring softly beside me as we pull down the driveway to Ten Bluebird Lane. Gently, I kiss her cheek over and over until she wakes up. Mostly, I just want to feel her skin beneath my lips in any way I can. She stretches and yawns, giving me a confused look.

  “Where are we?” She nuzzles into my neck.

  “We’re here. At my parent’s house.”

  She sobers and gulps. Here goes nothing.

  31

  Peyton

  “My baby boy!”

  A woman I can only assume to be Jared’s mom runs down the picturesque front porch of the big white house with her arms swung wide open. She’s tall, for a woman, probably a few inches shorter than Jared, who at six foot six is about fourteen inches taller than I am. She’s trim, but has a mom bob the same color as Jared’s light brown … and it ages her. She’s in a simple cream sweater, baggy white wash jeans, and brown hiking boots. If this woman is quintessential Texas, I’m practically as flashy as Dubai.

  “Oh my baby boy, I’m so happy to have you home.” She runs up to him, wrapping him in her arms and practically weeping on his shoulder.

  His mom acts like he’s been gone for fifteen years, when he was just in Dallas a few weeks ago. Jared pats her back and lets her cling to him, smiling as the rest of the family gathers on the porch. I already feel like an outsider, looking on during this display of affection that is just so conveniently leaving me out. I smile, trying not to shake with my nerves even though they’re quivering inside of my stomach.