"You're still planning to speak with her, aren't you?"
"I am. So long as you're comfortable with it."
"Then we're good."
"Are you sure?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Kristina…" I run my free hand through my hair. "You're amazing." She truly is. I can't imagine anyone better in this world. And she's mine.
"Why?"
"You just are."
"You're pretty incredible yourself."
"Is that so?"
I know she's rolling her eyes. "Edward, you've taken so much upon yourself for me, for Ryan, for our family, and you're running your company and who knows what else on top of it. You're always eight steps ahead. I don't know how you do it."
If I were home instead of here, I would take her this minute... 'special' be damned. Carpe diem, baby. That's the way to go.
"Edward?"
"Hmm?" I break from my reverie.
"What are you thinking about?"
"You."
"Me?"
"Yes."
"What are you thinking about me?"
Oh, baby... "Do you really want to know?"
"Yes." I hear her smile.
"Hmm... I was thinking," I begin, "about all the lovely things I'm going to do to you when I get home."
"Is that so?" she teases.
"It is." And we'll leave it at that. Else my dick may explode.
"I don't get a hint?" she pouts.
"Nope. You'll just have to wait and be surprised." Fuck. I may give the suits an undeserved reprieve tomorrow.
I hear a frustrated sigh. "You're impossible."
I chuckle. "I know. Get some sleep now, all right?"
"If I must."
Oh, how the anticipation will drive her wild. "I'll take care of you tomorrow, baby. I promise."
"Okay. Until then."
"I love you."
"Love you too."
There's a silence.
"Still there?" I ask.
"Mm-hmm."
"You can hang up now."
"So can you."
I gasp. How does she know our game? "You first."
She ponders a minute. "On three?"
My God. "All right."
"One."
"Two."
"Three."
~ KRISSY ~
I'm awoken a little after dawn by six enormous, blinking eyes, two gray and four brown. It's only a second before I'm pounced. Much giggling and face-licking ensues. Oh, if every morning can be like this one for a while, it might be easier to get past the last few weeks.
Breakfast consists of banana oatmeal and some kind of organic, locally produced kibble. I don't think the 'twins' much care what it is, but it must be good because it's gone faster than Ryan's bowl of mashed… well, at this point, it's unidentifiable and all over his face. I think we're going to focus heavily on the concept of proper utensil usage for the foreseeable; these messes of his are just outrageous. Thirty minutes later, Ryan's clean. Another twenty and I've managed to wipe what sticky residue was transferred from Little Spiderman's hands to my clothes, and then I grab my laptop, child, and two furballs, and we're headed out back.
Our conversation last night... or should I say this morning... was surreal. It might be possible to trick me into believing it didn't happen. But then, it also felt like déjà vu. My head is spinning, but if I want to be quite honest with myself, the mild confusion is the last thing on my mind, when I recall the end of our chat.
"…all the lovely things I'm going to do to you..." he said. How stunningly, deliciously promising. And frightening... and overwhelmingly... oh, I don't have a sufficiently vivid word, my brain is swishing and zapping with all the potentially 'lovely things'... like what? I couldn't tell you. I have no idea. I've never had sex before. Let me rephrase… I don't remember ever having sex before. I don't know the first thing about it, aside from the technicality of 'insert tab A into outlet B.' Sounds simple, right? And he said he'd take care of me. It sounds so sweet, but is it code for something else? Oh, I can't think. Focus, Krissy. It's just sex. No big deal right? Right? Oh, I need help. Kate raves about her experiences... or, she did in college, which I (again) remind myself was years ago. I set my laptop aside and, making sure Ryan is still conscious and the dogs haven't buried him in the herb garden and that the lone suit is out of earshot, I dial my BFF.
"Hey, sweetie. I've been a bad friend for not calling. How are you feeling?"
"Really good, actually. Are you busy?"
"I always have time for my bestie. What's up?"
I give her a general synopsis of the situation.
"First time jitters. Oh, I remember this. You'll be fine, Steele, don't worry. He'll take good care of you."
There's that line again. Sounds harmless when Kate says it, guess I'll let it go. I scoff. "Yeah, he's good at taking care of everything, and that's reassuring, don't get me wrong," I tell her. "But I'm more concerned with disappointing him. I don't know how to do a-ny-thing..."
"Krissy, stop," Kate interrupts. "Honestly, I'm surprised the two of you haven't re-christened every surface of your entire house by now, the way you guys are, but I hear you." She shifts, and I hear a babbling in the background; she must be with Ava today. "Think about it," she continues. "The circumstances are the same as they were for your actual first time: he has experience, and you don't. Well, you do... but... anyway. You told me a little about it, and I got the notion that it was pretty extraordinary. So don't worry. Just get yourself clean and pretty, and let him do the rest."
"Are you sure?"
"You're going to get wrinkles if you don't stop making that face. I know you're doing it."
I immediately relax my forehead. Oh good granny, how does everyone know me better than I know myself? I sigh. Right, they aren't missing three years. "How do you suggest I get pretty?"
Ava squeals. "Give me a bit to settle my little chickadee and I'll be over to help. Is Edward at work?"
"He's in New York until dinnertime."
"Then we have plenty of time. Do you still have my plum dress?"
I shake my head. "I have no idea, why?"
Kate snickers. "You'll find out."
I guess these manuscripts will have to wait.
~oOo~
Kate is magic with a makeup brush. She orders me into a sweet-smelling bubble bath and hangs around while I shave my legs. We haven't had a date-prep-day in forever, and our positions were always reversed. The last one I can remember was after her breakup with the guy I secretly called Bill Nye. I swear, minus the bowtie, the guy looked just like Mr. Science, if a few decades younger, and Jose agreed with me. Not exactly my idea of hotness, but Kate said he was decent in bed. Whatever.
Ryan is a spectator in all this. He giggles as I yelp at having my eyebrows tweezed, and looks on longingly as Kate paints my toenails a rich berry. I hope Edward isn't the type to get upset about boys wearing polish, because Ryan insisted on a nice clearcoat after we talked him out of the pastel pink he noticed on little Ava's fingers.
I digress.
We enjoy a refreshing spa lunch, the five of us, including Gail. After some reassurance from Kate and some gushing over what a hot mama I am, she's off to get ready for some event with Elliot.
Gail insists on babysit this evening. She doesn't miss a trick.
And so now, at four pm, I'm in the plum dress that Kate tore my closet apart to find, and some heels by a designer whose name I can't pronounce. She also dug up some sparkly earrings and sprayed me with jasmine before declaring me fuckable.
Her word, not mine.
I decide to cook dinner to keep me occupied. Kate told me I should order in from a place around the corner that Edward raves about, but I need to keep my hands and brain busy, in which order of importance I still can't decide. Gail gave me some menu ideas and then disappeared with Ryan. No dogs, no toddler, no staff. Just a big, empty house that smells like the tenderloin roast and parmesan potatoes quietly hissing in the oven. I set mysel
f to snapping the ends off fresh string beans before steaming them… a habit I picked up from my mother… when I hear the front door.
"Let him come find you," Kate had said. It doesn't help in preparing vegetables that my fingers have set to trembling.
I feel two arms wrap my waist from behind and settle over my apron, and warm lips press against my neck.
"Mmm, you smell so good, baby."
I giggle, turning in his arms and linking my hands behind his neck. "Hi," I murmur, lifting up onto my toes.
He meets my mouth reverently, pulling me in close, his hands splaying over my back, one traveling down... down...
"Hi yourself," he murmurs against my lips, his traveling hand finding my backside and rewarding me with a gentle squeeze. Oh my.
"Hungry?"
He just nods.
"I made a roast," I tell him. I don't exactly mean for the words to come out seductively, but they do. And I end up feeling like a clumsy little girl.
He smiles, rubbing his nose over mine. "Oh, that's not what I'm hungry for, Mrs. King."
I feel the blush travel up from my neck and down over my back, awakening and igniting nerves I never thought I had. I have to actually think about staying on my feet else they might have curled and landed me on my ass. Thank God Edward's arms are around me.
"No witty retort?" he teases. "Perhaps you do need sustenance. He pats my bottom, and then rubs it seductively. "Let's eat."
It's another ten minutes before the beans are steamed, and in that time the roast has rested, the potatoes buttered and seasoned, and Edward has brushed up against me as many times as he can get away with as he asks me about my day. He's either genuinely interested in female grooming rituals, or just in listening to me babble on about them. The way his eyes follow my every move, every gesture... and then the way he carves the roast... am I swooning? And he's enjoying it!
"So... is everything... settled?" I say, sipping my glass of Cabernet.
His face darkens just a touch, but he covers quickly, reaching across to grasp my hand. "It is. Nothing more to think about."
I nod, not wanting to press and ruin the mood, but curious nonetheless.
"We can talk about it tomorrow. For now, all I need is my wife's good company while I eat this phenomenal dinner she's worked so hard to make for me."
"Phenomenal, huh? She must love you a lot, to go to all this trouble," I tease.
"I pray every minute that she does. My wife is a profoundly special person; the most indescribably special." His expression sobers. "She's put up with quite a lot from me over the years. I know exactly where I'd be without her, and it's the last place on earth I desire to be."
His words are heavy and heartfelt. He closes his eyes briefly, and when they open, they're soft gray again. "Sorry about that. You have an enduring effect on me, Mrs. King. It catches me by surprise at times."
And acts as truth serum, methinks.
Edward turns the conversation to weekend plans, a few events to which we've been invited, having my mother and Bob for Thanksgiving at our Aspen home... rewinding to explain that we have a ranch house in Aspen, and a penthouse in New York… where he stayed last night, incidentally… and others in Chicago and on Miami Beach. And then he asks about Ryan. The man worships that little boy. His eyes shine with reverence as I describe the breakfast messes, clothing malfunctions, verbal outbursts and loving Mommy moments over the weeks he's missed. We hadn't gotten to talk about that. I think we'll be delving into those things once in a while for some time to come.
Edward insists that I leave our dishes at the table. Taking my hand, he leads me from the candlelit dining room. And that's when I remember the dessert I made.
"Leave it, he says. "You're all the dessert I need."
My knees give out.
He sweeps me into his arms, effortlessly. "I love this dress, Mrs. King," he murmurs, running the tip of his nose over mine. The gesture has so much promise; every time he does it I want to melt into him. I brush his softly stubbled jaw with my fingers, and he closes his eyes. When they open again, they've nearly burned black with desire… for clumsy little bookworm Krissy? Surely not… I feel suddenly and overwhelmingly inadequate in the presence of such perfection.
"You're overthinking, aren't you, my little scholar?"
How does he fucking know?
"Um... I..."
"Shh... He soothes. "Don't think. Only feel, Krissy."
"Feel..."
"Yes."
"Feel what?"
He smiles. "Everything."
I hadn't noticed that he'd moved until the subtle lift of his strong legs carrying us up the stairs pulled me from stupefaction, that and the sound of my heels falling one at a time to land on the steps. I blink inwardly, as if to reset my brain and set it on course. Edward carefully sets me on my feet, and rather than release me as I expect, he pulls me in close, his face inches from mine.
"Promise me something," he whispers.
"Anything."
He takes two deep breaths. "If anything is uncomfortable, or if you want to stop, you'll tell me."
I nod, imagining my expression to be not unlike that of a woodland creature in the forelight of an oncoming train. "I promise."
~ EDWARD ~
She's so beautiful. So perfect, so innocent, her large blue eyes tracking me through dinner... oh, that meal was superb... and now that it's over, I'm nervous. I'm rarely nervous, but when I am, it's always to do with Krissy. Always for the simple reason that I'd die rather than disappoint her, or let harm come to her. Rather than cause her one ounce of sadness. Of pain. I'll never willingly hurt her, but sadly, on occasion, it's happened. And if there's one thing she's always struggled with, it's communicating when she's reached a limit. Such a little rule-breaker, she is. But she doesn't remember... she doesn't know that. And so I ask her to promise to tell me.
And she agrees, without hesitation.
I plan to exploit every one of her special places tonight, all those points that make her eyes roll back and her toes curl. Oh, my dick strains to be close to her. Be still, my friend. Our lady needs much attention first.
Her breaths come quicker, and I've not really touched her yet. I step back slightly, breaking the frontal contact, and slowly drag my fingernails up her arms from her wrists with a feather light touch.
"Are you going to make love to me?" She whispers. Oh, the innocence of her lips. What a gift, the coveted chance to relive her first time, to get it right. To make it... More.
"I am," I smile down at her, softly. "Is that what you'd like?"
Her nod is stunned, subtle. The hitch in her breaths is my only clue of her willingness, her malleability. She wants to let me touch her... to feel her... to take her.
My fingers have reached her shoulders, traveling behind her neck to the clasp of her dress. Impulsively, I step in again, claiming her mouth with mine.
"My shirt, Krissy," I whisper against her lips. "The buttons, please."
Her hands tremble, but rise immediately, brushing my belly and chest on their way up. In darkness, she shouldn't see much of my scars, if any at all. Surely she's seen them, she's had plenty of opportunity… but she's not asked. This shouldn't be about me.
It's all about her. Her fingers release the top two buttons. I let my hands fall down her body and pull my shirt from the waistband. Krissy stills.
"It's all right, baby. Don't be afraid." I take the rest of the buttons myself, steadily, efficiently, and then, clasping her fingers, bring her palms to splay over my chest. The sensation is... Wow. I close my eyes. She's touched me, my bare skin, since she woke up… but never like this. Never with this intensity, this purpose. Our collective lifeblood flows through the points where our skin connects. No one has ever been this close to anyone else, this linked, with this level of belonging. And I'll show her just what it means to feel this way.
Her fingers flex, bringing be back to the present. I guide her hands to my trousers. With trembling fingers, she pops the bu
tton, my hands hovering over hers, to give her confidence. I love guiding her. I love watching her fumble; it's so endearing. She looks up at me, expectantly.
"It's okay," I tell her, shifting just enough to toe-heel out of my shoes and scooting them behind me. "Help me out of them."
She hesitates only a moment before working the zipper down with care, as though my package would leap from its place of restraint if she weren't careful. Yes, she's waking the tiger. I've struggled to keep him in check until this moment, and I simply can't any longer. She pushes the waistband down over my hips, and they fall to the floor. I step out of them, raising one foot and then the other to pull off my socks. A lady should never have to remove a man's socks.
Her gaze is fixated southward. I enjoy her marveling, and then bring my fingers under her chin so that she looks at me.
"Like what you see, Krissy?"
She blushes, her long eyelashes brushing her cheeks as she looks bashfully away. I pull her gaze back to mine. "I'm all yours. I've only ever been for you."
My hands travel down her body, gathering the hem of her plum dress, the dress. She and Kate must have discussed its significance long ago. And the earrings… my second chance earrings. I nearly keeled over in the kitchen when I noticed them. How perfectly appropriate that she should wear them tonight, even if she doesn't know why. I should tell her.
"Arms up, my love." She complies, and I lift the fabric over her head and let it drop to the floor. I want to save her from her past shyness regarding nudity, and step immediately into her arms, our warmth radiating between and around us. "Did Kate help you pick out the dress?"
Krissy nods. "She mentioned that you'd like it."
"Did she tell you why?" My hands run a slow, sensual course over her arms, back, shoulders, waist… even the lace covering her bottom, my fingertips dipping just inside the elastic.
She emits a tiny gasp, and shakes her head.
My lips form a smile. "It was the first dress I ever saw you wear," I murmur, bringing my lips to hover over hers, and they brush mine when she nods. My smile widens. "It still takes my breath away. You wear it whenever you desire to have my full attention," I sigh at the sprinkling of memories over the years and I bring my lips to her ear. "And these earrings…" I plant a soft kiss on that special spot behind her earlobe, "… they were my gift to you, after you granted me a second chance."
The Billionaire's Marriage: A Romance Novel Page 48