by S. L. Scott
“My dad has nothing on the shit your mother put me through, so I’m gonna need a proper thank you later.”
“You don’t even have to ask. I have lots of plans to thank you properly when we get back to your place.” I smack her ass making her yelp, and add, “And I’ll be testing that tenacity later tonight.”
I open the door to the Palace Arms restaurant and the cool air hits my face and in a blur of commotion, Mallory is grabbed from my side. A man, I assume is her dad, hugs her so tight she can’t escape, but with his eyes narrowed on me trying to intimidate. “How is my baby girl?”
She grabs at his arms and hoarsely says, “I’m good, dad. I mean, I can’t breathe so I might not be good for long.”
“Oh, sorry. I’m happy to see you,” he says, still staring me down while talking over her shoulder.
“Happy birthday, honey,” her mom says with open arms.
As Mallory hugs her mom, her dad stands there, arms crossed, staring at me.
After their greeting, her mother steps around Mallory. “Evan, I’m Elise, it’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you.” I stick my hand out, but she comes in and says, “Sorry, I’m a hugger.”
I return the hug, politely and a little caught off guard, but in a good way.
Her dad watches the interaction, then says, “You must be the new boyfriend.”
“Hopefully better than the old boyfriend.” I inwardly roll my eyes at how stupid that was, my nerves taking over. Mallory elbows me, keeping a smile on her face for the family.
“Guess that remains to be seen.” He glares, but I know he can’t be that bad. Mallory has always talked about how great her parents are.
But I’m not winning any points here, so I formally introduce myself. Stepping forward, I reach my hand out to greet him. “I’m Evan Ashford. It’s very nice to meet you, Sir. Mallory has told me lots of good things about you.”
“I’m not a hugger.” He shakes my hand—firm and domineering—trying to control who’s boss around here. “I’ve heard the cliff notes version about you, so I’m curious what parts have been left out. Should make for an interesting dinner.”
“Stop it. You’re scaring him,” her mother says, hitting her husband on the chest, which reminds me a lot of Mallory.
“Elise, that’s the point.” She gives him a look that I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of. He clears his throat, and says, “I’m Clay Wray. Nice to meet you.”
Clay Wray?
My eyes meet Mallory’s and she shakes her head once, meaning don’t even go there. She knows I want to laugh over that name, but I’ll restrain myself… for now.
Mallory squeezes between us with her hands up like she’s breaking up a fight. “I think we’re late for our reservation. We should check in. Dad?”
Her mother says, “Our table is ready, and please call me Elise.”
“You can call me Mr. Wray.”
The ladies laugh and I gulp. Mallory hits me on the chest, and says, “He’s kidding, Evan.”
“Yeah… I’m kidding, Evan. You can call me Clay.” I note his dry humor. Tonight is gonna be a long night.
As we follow the maître d’, Mallory giggles. “See. No big deal.” Taking me by the hand, she pulls me behind her parents.
We’re seated at a booth in the corner and as Mallory and Elise ooh and ahh over the restaurant, I slip the maitre d’ a tip before he leaves.
Everything about her and her parents at dinner is fascinating. The way Mallory and her parents interact, their appreciation over little things like when Elise is offered a taste of the wine for approval, and that the food is presented instead of delivered to our table. They’re very endearing and refreshing, grateful and kind, compared to what I’m used to in Manhattan. They’re real. They share their feelings and thoughts openly not worried about being judged or having that used against them. They have a zest for life that isn’t manufactured.
When we finish our entrees, I rest my hand on Mallory’s thigh. She’s engrossed in a conversation with her mother about a book she just finished reading. I take a sip of my beer, which I ordered to match her father’s taste since I’m seeking his approval. When my eyes meet Clay’s, his eyes dart from mine to the table in front of Mallory, giving a clear warning to remove my hand from his daughter. I do, immediately, and he gives me a half-hearted smile.
Her parents ask about my family and my time in New York and how I’m liking it. I’m honest with them. I miss their daughter and it’s been hard to be apart. Elise smiles while taking her daughter’s hand and giving it a little squeeze. Her father grumbles.
Mallory tells them about the places I took her sightseeing back in Hawaii, saying she wants to return one day. Maybe even to earn her master’s degree. I catalog that tidbit to talk about later, in private.
After sharing Mallory’s chocolate dessert, the bill arrives. I know with drinks and food that the bill will be close to $400. I quickly reach across the table and take the little black folder out from under Clay’s hand before he has a chance to view it.
“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to treat your family to dinner tonight in honor of Mallory’s birthday. You were very kind to let me ruin your plans, so I’d like to make it up to you.”
Elise reaches across the table and tries to take the folder. “That won’t be necessary, Evan. It’s a very nice gesture, but we’re thrilled you flew here to celebrate with her and that we got to meet you. Right, Clay?”
Her father leans back in his chair and with both hands, rubs his stomach. “Elise, let the boy pay if he’s so eager.”
She whispers, “This is a very expensive restaurant. We should pay.”
I take Mallory’s hand and justify, “I can easily cover the bill and like I said, I’d be honored.”
“See?” Clay says, pointing at me, “He’d be honored.”
Mallory leans forward and says, “Evan told me last night he’d like to buy dinner as a gift to me, so no more arguing please.”
As we stand outside waiting for the valet, her father has a toothpick in his mouth, and is eyeing me up. “Normally, I’d question where a young person such as yourself got a hold of that kind of money, but it sounds like you have your parents’ permission to pay on their credit card, so I’m going to let that line of questioning drop.” He looks between me and Mallory then adds, “For now.”
After many thank you’s, nice to meet you, and hugs, Elise elbows him. They look at each other and since he’s doesn’t understand what she wants, he asks, “What?”
“Goooo oonn,” she says, expressing her displeasure with him.
“OH!” He turns to me and says, “It was good to meet you. We’d like to invite you to our home sometime in the future since this,” he points between me and Mallory, “is looking pretty serious. I can take you bird-watching and we can talk…”
It seems like he wanted to say more, but doesn’t. “I’d like that very much, Sir.”
“Okay, well, alright. That’s settled.”
Our cab pulls up to the curb, and after our goodbyes, we get in and go back to Mallory’s small apartment.
“I’m glad we didn’t drive. Now we can just relax,” she says, snuggling into my side on the ride home.
“I’m glad we didn’t drive either. I tried keeping up with your dad, but he out drank me by two beers.”
“My mom kept topping off my wine. She loved it, by the way. Thank you for suggesting it.”
“It’s one my parent’s like a lot. I was glad they had it there.”
“It was expensive, wasn’t it?”
I don’t answer.
“Whatever. I don’t really want to know anyway.” She turns toward me and kisses me sweetly on the cheek. “Thank you for dinner and meeting my parents and all that. It means a lot that you’ve met them.”
“I think they’re pretty great, even Clay Wray.”
“Oh, don’t even go there.”
“How can I not? That’s gold rig
ht there.”
“It’s old and worn out is what it is. I’ve had to hear people making fun of it my whole life.”
I pull her closer and kiss the top of her head. As much as I want to push that joke further, I’ll respect her wishes.
“You’re laughing, aren’t you?” she asks, looking up at me.
“Only on the inside.”
She hasn’t entirely lost her sense of humor on the subject, and laughs.
Too tired to mess around once we’re back in Boulder, we kiss for a few minutes, but end it before it gets too heated.
Just as I’m starting to doze off, I hear her mumble, “Wish come true.”
I smile, opening my eyes once again to look at the stunning girl next to me. She’s asleep, falling fast tonight. After sneaking a kiss onto her forehead, careful not to wake her, I whisper, “Wish come true indeed.” All my wishes and future are wrapped up in the beauty sleeping next to me.
I’m hot and smothered, but I like it. Lying in my dark room with my surfer wrapped around me, holding me so tight that it wakes me up. But when I peek over my shoulder, he seems at peace in his sleep.
Evan wiggles and his erection presses against my hip. I find it remarkable how hard a guy can get in his sleep. I wiggle back and his breathing changes as he stirs, pushing himself further against me, if that’s even possible.
Hot breath covers my neck and he whispers, “Baby, you do things to me.”
“Correction,” I whisper. “I want to do things to you.”
“Well, mission accomplished. This,” he says, moving his cock against me again, “is getting painful.”
Making love to him is never a chore and I love sex in the middle of the night in this dreamy state—it’s freeing from my daily worries and is easy to focus on the good sensations.
He wraps his arm around me and we spoon before falling back asleep, tired from the middle of the night sexcapades.
I like to think morning brings bluebirds singing, the smell of fresh coffee brewing, and sleeping in since Evan is here and it is Saturday. But, to my disappointment, it doesn’t. My alarm blares, startling both of us awake.
Evan reaches over me and slams down on the clock so hard that it falls off the nightstand and bounces across the floor. “Remind me to get you a new alarm clock,” he mumbles, snuggling his face into the pillow.
The sun peeks through the cracks of the curtains and I huff knowing I have to leave this safe, cozy haven to meet my parents.
I try to slide out from his secure grip. Without opening his eyes, he squeezes me tighter, and states, “No.”
“I have to get up. I promised them.”
“No, I’m not ready for you to leave.”
“A planned weekend turned into only a dinner. I can at least have breakfast with them. I’ll only be a few hours. You’ll probably still be asleep when I get back anyway.”
His arms loosen, still keeping his eyes closed, and I slip out of bed. Making my way to the bathroom, I quietly shut the door and start the shower. I walk back out and pull my standard jeans and school sweatshirt from the closet shelf.
I close the door behind me when I return to the bathroom and grab a towel from the rack. Reaching into the shower to check the temperature of the water, I turn around and jump when I see Evan standing there—all sleepy-eyed, mussed hair, and bare chest. He’s perfection come to life—naked and smirking.
“You didn’t say you were going to take a shower,” he says, a sly grin playing on his lips.
Feigning coy, I put my hand under the warming water, and reply, “I figured I should probably not meet my parents for breakfast smelling like I’ve been doing naughty things all night.”
“Can I come?”
“You did. Twice since you’ve been here.” I laugh at my joke.
With light amusement, he says, “Ha ha.”
“Do you really want to come to breakfast with my folks?”
“Yeah.”
I’m weak to him. “Then you can join us.”
He walks past me and steps into the basin. I grab another towel and hang both on the hook outside the shower before I enter. His hair is already wet and seeing him like this reminds me of when I’d watch him surf—wet and sexy as all get out.
Taking me by the pinky, he tugs me closer until I’m under the water with him. I let the warm water cascade from the top of my head and down to my feet. With a light touch, Evan chases a trail of droplets the length of my body. Kneeling in front of me, he rests his cheek against my stomach then places soft, sweet kisses on my inner thigh.
When he stands, he pushes my hair away from my face and kisses my mouth. Moving me back against the wall, his lips trail down my neck, one of his fingers tracing across my chest while his other hand holds my head in place. I can’t help but tilt my head accompanied by a moan when I’m immersed into everything that is Evan.
“Babe,” I plead, not meaning to, but unable to stop myself. “Three more months is too long to be without you. I need you so much.”
His hand skims over my skin, stopping between my legs as he murmurs against my neck, “Mallory. I need you more than you know, not just your body. I need to possess you in ways that scare me.” He slides two fingers inside of me and we both sigh in unison.
“I’m lost without you,” I say, my head swimming in an ocean of overwhelming emotion and lust. “I was made for you… only you. I only want you.”
His fingers leave me and coldness invades my empty body. Before I have time to ask for more, he lifts me up and pushes inside, filling me as his chest presses against mine, pinning me against the tiled wall.
“Tell me how this feels, baby. Tell me how I feel.”
I rock my head back and forth a couple of times unable to get a grasp on my thoughts. My eyes suddenly pop open. “You’re not wearing a condom!”
“You feel fucking amazing,” he says, whispering in my ear and calming me down. “You’re still on the pill?”
He continues moving up and down my body, in and out, turning my world upside down. In my incoherent mind, I grasp the one word that makes everything alright. “Yes.”
Taking that as a sign to go for it, he thrusts. Through whispering breaths, he utters words of love and ownership, destiny, and a forever together. He speaks of his dreams then comes while staring into my eyes.
Without relenting, he brings me to my own peak, sending me blazing into my own spinning orgasm. I’m not afraid to tell him, commit to him wholly. As he holds me in his arms, both of us breathless, I realize he is my purpose in life. Evan Ashford owns me and nothing compares to the love I have for this man. Nothing and no one will stop me from being with him in every imaginable and possible way.
And all is right in the world knowing he feels the same when he says, “Fuck, I can’t go back to New York without you.”
“Good. Because I’m not letting you leave.” I press my lips against his chest, letting them linger as the taste of his skin, salty and soapy, graces my tongue. I push his wet hair off his face. “I’ve got to get ready. You still want to come with me?”
“I just did,” he chuckles.
“Stop it,” I chide, enjoying our lightened moods after the intensity of the activity.
“You need the time with your parents and I actually have some business on campus.”
Surprised, I ask, “What? A meeting? It’s Saturday. I thought the offices were closed on Saturday?”
He pours shampoo into my cupped hand and some into his. As we start washing each others’ hair like we’ve done so many times before, he says, “They are, but this is when the last name Ashford and my school record come in handy.”
“So they’re giving you special treatment because of your name?”
“And my school record. I’m not just a hot body here.” He smiles.
“Does everything in life come easy because of your name?” I ask, rinsing my hair under the water.
He watches me with focused intensity, looking deep into my eyes. “No, not everythi
ng has come easily.” Just by his emphasis on the words, I know he’s referring to us, but what he still fails to recognize is that he always had me. We both foolishly thought we could walk away, but it wasn’t meant to be as clean or easy as that. He breaks my train of thought by adding, “It’s a fact I’ve used my name to my advantage over the years, but like in Lani’s case, sometimes it can cause more harm than good. The press loved smearing me in the papers.”
Turning off the shower, I reach for the towels, handing him one and we dry off. As I brush through the tangles in my wet hair, he sits on the edge of the tub and watches me. “I think you look really pretty without make-up.”
In the reflection of the mirror, I smile when I see the sincerity in his eyes. “My mother still says that too.” I revert my eyes back to my face, and ask, “Don’t you think I should cover these dark circles though?”
“I don’t see any dark circles.”
My sweet boyfriend has always seen the best in me.
Thirty minutes and many complaints about my slow driving later, I drop him off on campus. “Do you need directions?” I offer. “The campus is really big.”
“No. I looked it up yesterday when I called about my application. I think I head south from the quad. It’s four buildings down on the right.”
“Who are you meeting with anyway?”
“Um, I think the name is Lawrence.”
“Dr. Lawrence, The Dean of Students, is meeting you on a Saturday?”
“He’s giving me a tour of the campus too.” He nods, his expression all smug.
I try to keep my jaw from dropping open at the ‘special treatment’ he’s receiving and instead focus on the positives. He’s here having meetings and taking tours, which is amazing and I smile at the realization. “You’re really gonna do it, aren’t you?”
“What? Take a tour?”
“No, move here. You’re really transferring for me, aren’t you?”
He tilts his head to the side and smiles, “Yes, I am and honestly, it feels like the first right decision I’ve made in a long time.” He opens the door and gets out. As he walks around the front of the car to my side, I roll down the window. It only goes down half way though since it started jamming a few weeks ago. He leans in through the opening the best he can and kisses me. “I’ll see you back at your place. Have fun and send my best to the parents.”