by Lisa De Jong
“Hi,” I whisper.
He looks up at me with a smile and tosses his phone on the table. “You look so sexy in those glasses,” he blurts out.
“What?” I gasp. “No I don’t.” My hand flies up to adjust my horn-rimmed ovals.
“Yeah, you’re my hot for teacher and naughty librarian fantasies come to life and all in one package,” he says with a look of barely contained lust.
“But I’m not a teacher nor am I a librarian,” I barely manage to say.
“Doesn’t matter. You look like one. Why are you standing way over there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, come here.”
I smile and move to sit beside him. Abruptly, he stops me mid-way down and hauls me into his lap. I laugh upon impact. One of his arms snakes around me to pull me close while the other comes to rest across my knees. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want you that far away. I have to erase all the distance that was between us today,” he murmurs as his lips find mine.
My fingers lace themselves around his neck as I pull him closer in, reveling in the feel of him in my mouth and under me. Running my fingers through his hair and massaging him, I manage to pull him in even closer.
All of my senses are diverted from our kiss as I feel his fingertips run ever so lightly up my thigh. So far all he’d done is kiss me senseless during our make-out sessions. I feel a change coming on.
I wiggle in his lap a little at that thought. He groans into my mouth and his fingertips disappear for a second before I feel his whole hand alternately kneading and pulling at my thigh and moving up quickly to do the same to my behind. I can’t keep kissing him because I’m out of breath and can’t seem to get any oxygen to my brain. I pull back and angle his head so that I can run my lips over his clean-shaven jaw. I place wet kisses all along his neck and work my way up and down his throat while he works his way up my body with his strong, supple hands.
He seems to switch gears a little, and I delight in the loving touch I feel as he softly massages the little knobs of my spine. Leaning my forehead on the side of his neck, I smile against his throat.
“What?” he asks me in that gravelly voice that I love.
“That feels so good,” I admit.
“It’s my mission to make you feel good.”
“That’s better than good actually—fantastic.”
“Mmm...mission accomplished,” he murmurs against my throat as he attacks it with enthusiasm. “You taste so good. Like the ocean.”
I feel one hand move to my face as he pulls his lips from me. “That would be my coconut and lime body wash.” He traces my cheekbone with his fingertip, eliciting a little laugh from me. My eyes spring open. “That tickles.”
He licks his lips as he brushes my bottom lip lightly with his fingertip. I watch as his entranced gaze follows his fingertip as it trails down my throat, over my collarbone, and back and forth over the seam of the top of my camisole before finding its way down to circle my nipple. I can only groan as I feel my nipple form a tight bud.
“Does that feel good, baby?”
“Mmm...hmm,” I moan. He continues his sweet caress for a moment before running his fingertip back and forth over the bud. The shudder that overtakes me is unexpected and a little frightening. I squeeze my thighs together to try to alleviate some of the tension gathering there. It doesn’t help, and I’m nervous that this little touch elicits this much of a reaction from me. I can only imagine what I’ll feel when he touches me in earnest.
His lips find their way back to mine, and he kisses me until I am weak and no longer able to worry. His entire hand massages my breast for a moment before I feel my camisole being pushed down and under it. The action not only exposes me but also lifts my breast like an offering to him. He rubs it for a moment, teasingly and lovingly, before he pulls his lips from mine.
“Lie back,” he orders in a whisper.
Thoughtlessly, I do as he tells me. I open my eyes and watch with fascination until I can’t watch anymore and I lose myself in the sensations he wrings from my body as he teases me with his tongue and then devours me with his mouth—first one breast and then the other. When I feel like I absolutely can’t take any more and am a writhing mass in his arms, he nips at them before kissing them tenderly and pulling my camisole back over me.
Turning that tender kissing to my mouth, he kisses me into oblivion before pulling back to say the most incredible things to me. He murmurs, “I love the way you respond to me and my touch. Your body is my temple. Mmm…you taste incredible. You are so perfect.”
My eyelids flutter open to drown in the beauty that is him. I know what he means, but I have issues with this word. “I’m not perfect,” I whisper.
“You’re perfect for me. Other than the fact that you like to show off this delectable body of yours, you are absolute fucking perfection. Made for me, babe. Made for my lips,” he says before nipping at mine with a little force. “I’ve never known such a feeling of complete contentment than when I am with you and the boys. Do you know how huge that is for me? To feel peace and acceptance and love? I’ve never had that.”
My heart aches for him, not out of sorrow, but pure empathy. “I do get it, Adrian. That’s how I felt my whole life. Always on edge, always looking for love and acceptance.” I shake my head back and forth. “But never really finding it until I found you.”
“I still feel on the edge with you,” he confesses. “But it’s different. Exciting. Like being on the edge of an amazing turning point . I’ve always liked my life other than the fact that I felt estranged from my family. Babe, you and the boys make me love my life. And while I enjoy one moment, I find myself looking forward to all our moments together, and I can’t wait until the next one unfolds.” He buries his face in my neck before he says, “Look at what you do to me. Turn me inside out. I’m not making any damn sense.”
I pull his head up from his hiding place and give him a long, yet chaste, kiss. When I pull back, I see so many emotions swirling in those beautiful eyes of his—love, desire, fear. “Adrian, you make perfect sense. I love how honest you are with me—always. You never hold back how you feel. Even when you’re torn or conflicted you show me everything, make me feel everything you feel. All my life I’ve been forced to tiptoe around my emotions to avoid their bubbling out of me accidentally. And it didn’t even matter which ones they were, we were not allowed to express them overtly because being emotional was an ‘undesirable’ character trait. I made sure that the people I welcomed into my life were people who felt free to express themselves and let me express myself. When my boys were born, I promised myself that they’d never have to go through that. That they’d always feel comfortable being themselves and expressing themselves. I love that you don’t hold back with me, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“You don’t mind my emotions even when they’re scary or make you uncomfortable?”
I shake my head at him. “Being pushed outside of my comfort zone is living. And I love living.”
He draws my forehead to his lips and places a light kiss there. “I love you so much, Cel. I didn’t think it was possible, but every day that we’re together I fall more in love with you. I...it blows my fucking mind.”
I turn my lips to find his jaw again and kiss the line of it until I find his ear. I nip at it for a second, causing him to shudder underneath me. “I love you, Adrian Gabriel Leblanc Hebert. All of you. Every piece of you.”
Fourteen
Whatever It Takes
MY WHOLE LIFE I’d wanted this, yet I’d never thought it possible. In between the gigs, photo shoots, and running the boys to and fro, Adrian and I had found a perfect peace. I am thrilled, but a part of me, kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. We knew we couldn’t keep our relationship a secret, and frankly, we didn’t want to.
We were both dying to tell the boys and had decided that that’s where we’d start with our “coming out.” I was looking forward to b
ringing them in on things, and we’d decided tonight after the talent show would be the ideal time to tell them.
Looking over at Adrian chatting with Louis, the butterflies that are already flitting around in my stomach intensify before settling in for a nice humming routine. As soon as my eyes start roaming over him in an appreciative manner, he nods at Louis and looks up to fix me with his gaze. I can’t help the little smile that instantly forms, so I bite my lip a little to refrain from grinning like an idiot. He gives me a half-smile and shakes his head at me. I just shrug and continue staring at him before Louis notices Adrian’s distraction and follows his stare to me. Louis gives me a little wave before turning back to Adrian and continuing their discussion.
My nerves exist for a multitude of reasons. The boys are all performing tonight—Archer’s first. We, of course, are planning to talk to them about our relationship. And I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to fake not being in love with Adrian with some of my friends and family being around. I know for a fact that my brothers and sisters-in-law will be here. Bonnie and Garner will be here as well. We’ve been around them a bunch, but it’s been when the guys have been performing and that’s very different from us all sitting in an audience together and then maybe going out to dinner.
I’m pulled from my internal musings as Bonnie cuts into my line of vision. The annoyingly perceptive woman immediately follows my gaze before it dawns on me to avert it. She tsks at me and walks over to join me.
“Lord, woman. You’re never gonna learn,” she chastises me.
“I’m a glutton for punishment, I guess,” I say with a sigh.
“Oh my word...you’re pathetic!”
“I know.” I sigh again.
She grabs my arm, forcing my attention to her. “Geez, Cel, get a grip.”
“Maybe I don’t want to,” I say with a shake of my head.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks with a furrowed brow.
I finally snap out of my Adrian-induced stupor. “Oh, nothing.” My hands flit around erratically. “Please ignore me. I’m just...”
“A glutton for punishment,” she finishes for me. I nod. “I’m thinking of pulling a scene from one of our romantic comedies and locking you and Adrian in a closet until y’all come to your damn senses. Would you hate me?” Before I can answer, she says, “Cause it would be for your own good, honey. This is getting exceedingly ridiculous.”
I want to tell her so badly, but I want the boys to know first. Fortunately, Garner interrupts my almost-confession. “Hey, baby. Wanna get a seat?” he practically purrs in her ear. Mmm...to have that kind of openness. She turns her face toward his and rubs it along his in a loving gesture. My jealousy licks a fiery path up and down me for a moment before I feel immediately ashamed. She deserves this, and I’ll have it soon enough. She went through hell with her ex-husband. I tamp all that down and give them a smile.
Adrian touches my elbow for a second before motioning me to join him in finding our seats. I wave to my family, and we all settle in to watch the children perform. Adrian casually throws his jacket between our two chairs, covering my arm. I glance up at him and smile before attempting to move it out of the way when I feel his hand work its way down my arm and grasp my hand in his. Again, he gives me that sly smile of his before turning his attention back to the stage. I practically melt in my seat before I’m able to swivel my head around for the first performance.
As the opening acts perform, Adrian shifts and threads his fingers through mine before using his thumb to run back and forth over my palm. It’s really not fair that he can turn me on like this. My senses are firing in every direction.
When Archer takes the stage, he settles down a bit, which leads me to believe that he knows exactly what his touch was doing to me. I turn and smirk a little at him, eliciting a little laugh before he turns back and whistles at Archer.
Archer perches himself on his stool before speaking into the microphone with the utmost confidence. “Hello, everybody. I’m Archer Hebert, and I’ll be performing ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ by Simon and Garfunkel. I’ve been working on this for a couple of months now with my cousin, Adrian. I hope you like it.”
Tears populate my eyes immediately, and my gaze flies to Adrian. I had no idea. “Really?” I whisper.
He leans over and whispers, “He wanted it to be a surprise.”
My sweet boy, playing my absolute all-time favorite song, I can’t believe it. He adjusts his guitar before strumming that first note, and my respect and pride bubble from me and I give a nervous, little giggle. I’m more nervous than he is.
Flawless—his performance is flawless. The crowd is so moved that they are stunned into silence a moment before erupting in a cacophony of cheers and clapping and whistling. I feel a single tear escape me just before I feel Adrian scoop it up. Turning to him, I watch, mesmerized, as he sucks it from his fingertip.
When we settle back down from Archer’s rousing performance, I steal back under the jacket to lace my fingers through Adrian’s while we await Paris’s performance.
So many emotions course through me, and so rapidly, that I can’t pinpoint them long enough to name them, and I can’t believe how fortunate I am to have these three beautiful children and this beautiful man in my life.
I see the piano being wheeled out from upstage and Paris entering left, so I give Adrian’s hand a brief squeeze before letting go in order to welcome him. He, like his brother, announces himself but only his name. His nerves are shimmering just below the surface.
When I hear the opening notes to Lennon’s “Imagine,” I look over at Adrian and mutter, “Are they trying to kill me?” He just grins real big at me.
Turning back, I tear up all over again as I listen to his beautiful instrumental rendition of this classic that speaks volumes about my sage little man. He is indeed a peacemaker and the song fits him so well. My heart surges with joy and a little heartbreak as I know one as sensitive as he will struggle in this world.
When Paris wraps up, he garners as much of a reaction as Archer did. If Finn comes out and does something of this nature, I don’t think I’ll survive it. I lean over and whisper that sentiment to Adrian. Then I realize something else. I tap Adrian to get his attention. “They weren’t supposed to do those songs. They had other songs all picked out and had been rehearsing them. Is this your doing?”
“Maybe,” he says with a cheesy grin.
“I have to say I’m thrilled with the changes. Those are fantastic songs,” I say.
“Well, I just played them for them and let them choose. I may have swayed Archer a little bit.”
“Mmm hmm,” I mumble as the next act comes out.
We enjoy a variety of other performances. My nieces even do a little ballet routine. In my completely unbiased opinion, none are as good as my little virtuosos. The principal pops out to tell everyone that Finn Hebert will be the last performer of the night, and we all clap loudly as my adorable seven-year-old traipses on stage.
“So, yeah, I’m Finn, but I think everybody knows that by now cause Mr. Fitzpatrick just said it.” He has the audience laughing in seconds and eating out of the palm of his hand. “I’m not singing or playing anything, but I think you’ll like what I’ve got for you. How many Michael Jackson fans do we have out there?” He cups his hand to his ear like he’s entertained hundreds on a regular basis. I’m dying, as is Adrian. I catch Louis’s eye and we both roll our eyes at our little ham.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says when the applause dies down. “Well, I hope you like this number ‘cause I worked real hard on it.”
The lights die down for a moment before a single, white spotlight finds Finn on stage. He has on a fedora and it’s tilted over one eye. As soon as the beat starts, he starts moving those hips and those arms. I’m flabbergasted. I’ve seen him dance around the house for fun, and he’s always really adorable. But this is choreographed and inspired. When he does that kick twist that MJ does, I can’t h
elp but clap and cheer. This little move causes almost the entire crowd to hop up and start dancing with him including Louis and me. Adrian stands and claps along but refrains from moving his hips like Finn.
He’s wrapping it up, and the crowd is in awe of him. But when he does the Moonwalk, we all lose it—lots of catcalling and whistling and laughter break out. He only does it for a few seconds, but it’s so good. When the music cuts off, the spotlight does too. Then the stage lights cut back on, illuminating a bowing Finn. The crowd goes nuts, and I’ve never been prouder of my three boys for working so hard and doing what they love.
After the show, Adrian and I make our way backstage to gather the boys for dinner. I know a little shortcut from helping with props and stage design, so we cut through that area. I’m leading Adrian through all of the props and fabric and things that make a show go, when I feel him pull at my elbow, which causes me to stop and look back over my shoulder at him.
Running his hand over my breast and up my neck, he pins me to his chest. His strong fingertips push on my jaw so that my lips meet his. I melt into him while he kisses me tenderly and lovingly for a second. His kiss quickly turns scorching, but before I’m able to absorb all those sensations, he reins it in and places little kisses on my mouth. I smile against his mouth and murmur, “What was that for?”
“For being irresistible,” he murmurs back. I lean in further and give him a quick peck before starting us on our trek again.
Just before we pop out from our hidden location and our stolen moment, I’m stunned to hear a young voice say, “I knew you were gay, dude, but really? A piano solo?” The boy asks with disdain. “You should’ve played some Elton John or something that would be more your deal, right, guys?”
I hear some boys laugh, but I’m even more stunned to hear my Paris respond and deny the claim.
The knowledge that Paris is on the receiving end of the vitriolic comments shakes me from my frozen state to remedy the situation, but before I can emerge completely, Adrian halts me with his words. “Hold on, Mama,” he breathes in my ear.