Only For Forever: An Enemies to Lovers, Small Town Romance (Men of Rocky Mountain)

by Alexis Winter

  I roll my eyes. “Whatever,” I say, half under my breath, expecting him to either shove his tongue down my throat to shut me up or spin me around to spank me, but he does neither.

  He looks down my body at my belly, running his hand over it before dragging it slowly up my body. He cups my breasts, something he’s been doing a lot of lately given how large they’ve become.

  He rubs his nose against mine, leaning down to kiss me softly. His tongue darts out for just a second, touching my lips.

  “What’s wrong?” I lift his face so I can look in his eyes. He looks like he’s tormented.

  “I have these urges,” he says, refusing to look at me. He focuses on his hands, which fall back down to my swollen belly.

  “Urges?”

  “I have this animalistic desire to dominate you.” His eyes dart to mine, his pupils dark and dilated. A shiver runs up my spine at the way his eyes devour me. He leans in, his lips at my ear.

  “I want to fuck you hard. I want to use your beautiful body. I want to be rough with you.” He pinches my nipple and the pleasure shoots straight to the juncture at the top of my thighs.

  “Then fuck me—hard,” I say as I shove my hands into his hair and kiss him passionately. My tongue swirls into his mouth, eliciting a deep moan from his chest as his hands roam my body.

  He presses himself against me, his tongue taking over my mouth like he’s fucking me with it. He pulls away suddenly, breathing hard as he stares at my belly again.

  “I promise I won’t break. You won’t hurt us,” I say reassuringly as I grab his hand and lead him out of the nursery toward our bedroom . . . but of course, we only make it to the hallway before he has to have me. We eventually make it to our bed, but not before we stop up against another wall, the desk in his office, and a few other places.

  24

  Grant

  Three Months Later . . .

  * * *

  “What do you mean your water broke?” I shout over the phone in pure panic. “You’re not due for another four weeks!”

  “Grant, baby, relax. It’s okay. The baby isn’t coming right this second. But, um . . .” she hesitates and I can feel my blood pressure skyrocketing.

  “But what, Leigh?” I ask through gritted teeth.

  “I’m not in Denver, baby. I drove out to Grand Lake this morning.”

  “What?” I shout even louder this time. The nurses on the floor stop in their tracks and stare at me.

  “I fucking told you not to go, Leigh!” I try to lower my voice but my anger is preventing me. “I’m in fucking Denver!”

  I know it doesn’t do any good at this point to tell her why I was right and why her being an obstinate brat who hates being told what to do has gotten us into this mess, but I do anyway.

  “Grant!” she snaps. “Calm down. I’m about to have a baby, so I need to be as stress-free as possible. I know our doctor is back in Denver too, but Dr. Soreson is great and he will deliver our baby girl just fine. I just need you to get here safely, okay?”

  I close my eyes, leaning my head back and pinching the bridge of my nose. I take a few deep breaths. “You’re right. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” I let out a long, shaky breath. “We’re about to be parents,” I whisper. I choke back tears but they fall anyway, my nerves starting to get jumbled.

  “Just hurry. I need you here,” she says through a muffled sniff.

  “I’m on my way, baby.”

  After a frantic—and honestly, erratic—two-hour drive to Grand Lake, seven hours of labor, and 20 minutes of pushing, I’m holding my daughter.

  “Amelia Brook Rossi.” I say her name over and over again as I run my fingertip gently over her soft cheek.

  “Your mama is so strong and fierce, you know that?” I say as I glance up at Leigh, who is watching us both, her eyelids heavy.

  I reach out a hand and smooth down Leigh’s hair. She reaches up and grabs it, bringing it down to her lips and kissing my fingers.

  “Go to sleep, baby. I’ve got it from here.” I lean down and plant a kiss on her forehead.

  “I don’t want to miss a single second of this though,” she whispers between long, slow blinks.

  I take a seat on the edge of her bed, my hand resting in hers on her chest as she drifts off to sleep. I stare down at her and then back to Amelia, and my heart feels like it’s going to burst at any second.

  This. This is what love feels like. An indescribable feeling of happiness, contentment, and utter fear.

  “Where’s my granddaughter?” My mother’s voice awakens me. I stir, still curled around Leigh’s exhausted body in her hospital bed.

  “Shhh.” I lift my finger and point to Leigh, who’s thankfully still out. I gingerly remove myself from her bed, walking over to give my mom a hug before ushering her out of the room.

  “Over here,” I say as we walk down the hallway of the small country hospital to a window where Amelia and two other babies are sleeping in their incubators.

  I tap softly on the window, getting the attention of the nurse, who nods and reaches for Amelia. She brings her out to us, my mother barely containing her excitement as she takes her from the nurse.

  We walk back to Leigh’s room just as her parents come barreling around the corner, tears already streaking her mother’s cheeks.

  “Ohhhh my,” her mother coos as my mother reveals Amelia to her. Mr. Brooks pats me on the back, holding on to my shoulder as he wordlessly nods his head at me. He’s trying not to cry, but it doesn’t last long. Soon he’s pulling me in for a hug, holding me tight.

  I slip back into Leigh’s room as the grandparents ooh and aww over their granddaughter. Leigh stirs awake, glancing around the room before her eyes land on me and she registers where she is.

  “Where—”

  “She’s with our parents,” I say just as they step inside the room with Amelia.

  Leigh instantly stretches out her arms to take her daughter, and my mom places her in them.

  I lean against the windowsill as I take in the scene. It feels like it’s unfolding in slow motion: our families coming together to witness this joyous occasion. I swallow the lump in my throat as Leigh’s eyes settle over me. I wink at her and she smiles, mouthing the words I still can’t believe I get to hear from her every day for the rest of my life:

  I love you.

  Epilogue

  Leigh-Six Months Later . . .

  “You ready to do this, Mama?”

  Grant kisses the top of my head as I do a once-over on the diaper bag for about the fifth time in the last hour.

  “I can’t believe she’s six months old,” I say, shaking my head. I told myself I wouldn’t cry today. That’s been my constant postpartum battle every day for the last six months . . . trying not to cry at every little thing.

  “Next thing you know, she’s going to be headed off to college.”

  “Sweetheart, we said we weren’t going to spiral today.”

  He grabs my upper arms, helping me breathe through my almost-breakdown.

  “Besides, that just means we can start on baby #2 that much sooner,” he says against my forehead as I wrap my arms around his waist.

  “I think you might have done that last night,” I laugh, “and this morning.”

  I feel the rumble of his laugh in his chest as he dips his head to take my lips. “Mmm, maybe we should try again right now.” He delves his tongue into my mouth and I’m instantly transported back to earlier this morning when his tongue was doing this same thing between my legs.

  Waiting the full six weeks after birth to be intimate with Grant again was pure torture. You’d think that having your vagina ripped in half during childbirth would mean that the desires wouldn’t still be there, but I learned the hard way that they were crazier than ever with all the still-present hormones ravaging my body.

  Amelia stirs in her carrier next to me, and her small cry brings us both back to reality. I tear myself away from his mouth, breathless.

  “Later,”
I murmur against his lips.

  Grant grabs our bags while I gather Amelia and head out to the car. We’re spending our first full week in Grand Lake since she was born. My parents are already there getting our house ready for us. They’ll only stay two nights before heading back to Boulder, but I’m so grateful for the help.

  August’s real estate company has taken over managing our lake house, renting it out when we aren’t there. It’s crazy how close we’ve become to her and Remi over the last year, all things considered.

  Steph has not only been managing the new Pilates studio, but she’s also teaching two days a week and has even hired two other teachers. She’s so happy and I’ve even seen Ryder’s name mentioned from her via text a few times. I haven’t wanted to pry, but you better believe I’ll be sniffing out the tea between them this coming week.

  The drive is uneventful, save for one giant diaper blowout that was completely contained by her pants. Amelia is the happiest baby, constantly gurgling and laughing and cooing. While labor wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, her birth was uneventful and she was born healthy and with a smattering of strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

  Our first night back at the lake house is exhausting but so wonderful. Our friends and family are there, some meeting Amelia for the first time, and my parents seeing the house for the first time.

  We spend hours around the kitchen, sharing food, wine, and memories. I put Amelia down and we spend the rest of the evening on the back deck around the fire pit.

  “I have a surprise for you tomorrow night.” Grant runs his hands over my back as I lie in his arms.

  “Oh yeah?” I look up at him as he lies on his back in our bed. We were both tired when everyone left, and my parents retired to one of the guest rooms across the house, but it didn’t stop us from spending time getting lost in each other’s bodies.

  “A date.” He pokes the end of my nose, punctuating the word date before following it up with a kiss.

  “Mmm, I can’t wait, baby,” I say before drifting off to sleep.

  “Wait, where are we going?” I ask as Grant leads me blindfolded through our living room.

  “Just be patient,” he says.

  Tonight is the first time I’ll be away from my daughter for hours on end, and while I’m uneasy about it, she’s in good hands with my parents. Plus, Grant and I desperately need this.

  “Step,” he says as he grasps one hand and holds on to my elbow with the other. We step out our back door—I can at least tell that—and then walk on the sidewalk.

  I step down, my heel walking on wood as I hear water lapping against the shore.

  “Are we on the dock?” I ask as Grant steadies me then removes the blindfold.

  “Oh my God,” I gasp as I look around. Candles line the entire sidewalk from our back porch down to the dock, where a boat is waiting for us.

  “Did you buy a boat?”

  “No,” Grant laughs as he intertwines his fingers with mine, “just borrowed it. But if you love it, we can buy one.” He kisses my temple as he helps me step into the boat.

  There’s a beautiful table set with two place settings, wine, more candles and the soft sounds of jazz playing through the speakers.

  “I figure there’s not really too private of a place here in Grand Lake for us to have a romantic dinner, so I made a place.”

  I walk around. “Grant, it’s beautiful,” I say as I run my hands through his thick hair, our lips meeting.

  Dinner is fantastic: a beautifully-cooked meal from a local chef Grant found, all organic and farm-to-table. I lean back in my chair, staring up at the stars.

  “Dance with me.” Grant stands and holds his hand out to me. I place my hand in his and he pulls me up.

  “I have a confession,” he says, looking at me.

  “Do tell.” I wriggle my eyebrows at him.

  “I wanted you long before I should have.” I look at him questioningly and he laughs. “I’m not proud of it, but August was right when she thought I had a thing for you. It wasn’t just your beauty or your delicious little body.” He says that last part in a rougher voice.

  “You were always so kind to everyone, even putting Remi and August’s feelings above yours when it meant hurting yourself in the process. You’re a kind-hearted and thoughtful person, Leigh—a truly, genuinely amazing person.”

  I smile, my heart skipping a beat at the way he’s looking at me.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have let myself fall for you when I did, but I don’t regret it. I blamed you for my last relationship failing, but it wasn’t because you did anything. It was because I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you when I knew I shouldn’t.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m so glad you did.” I place my hands on either side of his face and kiss him, our lips lingering for several seconds.

  He steps back, reaching into his pocket before dropping down to one knee. My hands shoot up to my face as my mouth falls open.

  “Leigh, my love, my darling, you are the light of my life, the soul of my very being, and I can’t imagine a life without you. Will you be mine?”

  I nod my head, a sob catching in my throat as the word yes tumbles from my lips. He slides the beautiful diamond on my finger, the moonlight dancing off it as he stands, picking me up and twirling me around. He turns, facing the shore, and sets me down.

  “She said yes!” he shouts toward the shore, and I narrow my gaze to see a light waving back and forth.

  “Who is that?” I laugh as I try to register what’s happening. A few seconds later, fireworks are exploding above us in the sky.

  “Oh my God!”

  Grant reaches under the table to pull out a small cooler containing a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He pops the cork, pouring us each a glass and handing me one as we watch the sparkling explosions above us.

  We finish our drink and Grant stands behind me, wrapping his arms around me.

  “You sure you want to be my wife?” he asks in my ear.

  I turn around to face him, looping my arms around his neck. “On one condition,” I say, smiling.

  “Oh? And what’s that?”

  “Only if it’s for forever.”

  Waiting for Forever Sneak Peek

  Prologue

  Stephanie-Three years earlier…

  I hold my breath as I listen. I try not to stir as I slowly crack open my eyelid to look at my husband lying next to me. His breath has gone from shallow to a deep, heavy snore. I cough softly once to see if he stirs, he doesn’t. I cough again, louder as I turn my head towards him. Again, he doesn’t wake. The sleeping pills I crushed into his beer earlier have done the trick. This is my chance.

  I slowly slide out of my bed and tiptoe backwards to the hallway, holding my breath again as I stare at him the entire time. I turn to exit the room but glance back to double check his snores are real. I’ve learned the hard way that he’s great at faking asleep, only to find myself tackled and thrown to the ground just as I attempted to leave the house.

  With trembling hands I put my shoes on as fast as I can. I can hear my heartbeat in my chest, the loud thumping reminding me that I have to be successful this time or there very well might not be a third escape attempt. Memories of my last escape attempt swim through my brain.

  “The only way you’re leaving this fucking marriage is in a body bag you understand me?” He spit the words in my face as he pushed his forearm against my throat, pinning me against the wall. His eyes had gone completely black, like he was a shark that smelled blood. I could smell the liquor on his breath as I struggled to choke back the tears. Tears only spur him on.

  “Answer me!” He screamed, this time gripping my hair until my scalp burned, forcing me to look in his deranged eyes.

  “I—I un—understand.” I managed to get out despite my trembling, bloodied lip. My mouth tasted metallic, a result of him smacking me so hard my bottom teeth bit almost clean through my lip.

  Sadly, that was was
one nof the minor incidents. I’d gotten good over the years at coming up with what I thought were convincing stories on how I broke my wrist, my jaw, a few ribs and even an eye socket.

  Either people believed me, or nobody actually cared enough to find out the truth. I can’t decide which is worse.

  But that was the last time. I swore after that night he’d never hit me again. So I devised a plan. Cook him his favorite meal, make sure he had a fresh 12 pack in the fridge that he would be sure to finish and lace one of the beers with a sleeping pill or two. I don’t want to kill him, I refuse to go to prison for this piece of shit, I just need him to sleep deep enough that I can escape once and for all.

  I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t have any friends or family to help me. Daryl made sure of that. That’s what you don’t realize about marrying a narcissist. Slowly they start to shelter you from loved ones, alienating you and blaming you in the process. And before you know it, you’re living in total isolation, completely dependent on this psychopath and at their mercy. It’s like a frog being boiled alive, by the time you realize what’s happened, it’s too late.

  I grab the small bag of clothes and toiletries I’d packed earlier from under the kitchen sink, a place I know my beloved husband would never stoop to look.

  “You’re the woman, you belong in the kitchen and the bedroom. Those are the only two places you’re of any service and you’re not even good at those.”

  I shake the memory of his hateful words from my head as I glance over my shoulder one last time. I reach into the front pocket of my bag, making sure the keys are there.

  A few weeks ago I bought a 2003 Chevy Aveo I saw for sale on Craigslist. I’ve been secretly skimming money from Daryl’s secret stash. I know he has a few different jobs, none that he’ll actually explain to me, most likely because they’re not legal. The more he tells me, the more I’m a liability. What I do know is, he has a safe filled with cash and the idiot used his birthday as the combination. So week after week I snuck in and took a few hundred here and there. I knew the risk. I knew there was a good chance he’d figure it out someday but I was completely out of options.