“Vous avez mon Cœur. S’il vous plait me faire confiance avec les vôtres. Avoir foi en mon amour.” Her voice is just above a whisper.
“You haven’t spoken French to me in a long time, baby. What did you say?” I touch her face and rest my forehead against hers.
“You have my heart. Please trust me with yours. Have faith in my love.” I attack her mouth with my own once more. “Baby?” I pull away, panting.
“Let’s go.” She grabs my hand and we head back to the house, on a mission.
Becca sharply turns to me, reaching to unbutton my shirt once we’re in the room. I push her hair behind her ears and occupy her lips with mine. My hands move quickly for the hem of her shirt.
“Arms up.”
I pull away and lift her shirt up and off as she complies. I smile, still trying to get used to her wearing pants with stretch panels.
“Don’t say a fucking word, McNeil,” she warns me as she helps me out of my shirt.
“You look cute, baby.” I can’t help grinning. Getting down on my knees, I hook my fingers under the elastic to pull her jeans off, chuckling as I do.
“Stop, you’re making me feel self-conscious,” she complains.
“Baby, stop, you’re beautiful. Hello in there. Daddy loves you!” I talk into her belly button. There’s a shift in Becca’s mood. I glance up at her. Oh shit! She has that look. “Becs!” I jump up. “Baby ... please,” I beg.
“Sorry.” She snaps out of it and looks down.
“What is it?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Are you thinking about him?” I’m a little aggravated by the possible cock block happening here.
“I’m sorry,” she says again.
“Uggghh!” I groan loudly, pulling at my hair as I walk away. “Damn it, Becca! I’m not going to compete for the rest of my life with a goddamn ghost!” I turn back to her. “I know you’ll always love him. Damn it, when you’re with me, stay focused on me!”
“It wasn’t anything sexual,” she interjects.
“I don’t care!” I yell. “When we’re having an intimate moment, there should be no thought of him whatsoever!” I close my eyes and try to calm down. “Becs ... baby, you don’t understand. You say ‘bare feet,’ but it’s hard for me to accept that. I’m trying very hard. When you still like that, and get that look on your face ...” I run my hand through my hair again. “That’s what you do right before you pull away from me.” I push her hands off my chest.
“Okay,” she breathes and touches my face. “I’ll try harder. Ray, things are going to be rocky for us for a little while. We’re both adjusting to our new relationship.”
“It’s not new! We’ve been together for five years.” I try to control my temper.
“Are you chasing me?” she asks.
“No.”
“Am I running?”
“No.”
“It’s new then, isn’t it? When’s the last time I was ‘on’ a whole week with you?” she asks, brushing my lips with hers. I stare off into the distance, thinking about her question.
“Mmm ... Montreal,” I say, licking my lips. My purpose renewed, I back Becca up to the bed. She sits and goes to work at my jeans. “Baby ... you were so hot in Montreal.” I caress her cheek.
“Seems to me, McNeil,” she says, whipping my belt off, “any situation that finds me naked and underneath you, you consider ‘hot.’” She laughs, biting playfully at my stomach as she pulls my jeans down.
“Uh, yeah, pretty much.”
I can’t disagree. It’s all hot in my mind.
“Well, you’ll have to fill me in on Montreal after you, uh ...” She trails off, smiling as we climb back on the bed together.
“Fill you in,” I say, chuckling as I finish her sentence.
“Exactly. Cliff notes, please.” She nudges my hip with her knee.
“Really? Again? You’re becoming very impatient, baby.” I smirk.
“Well, this pregnancy has me horny as hell. It’s giving me an itch that needs immediate scratching, if you will.”
She plays with the hair at the base of my neck, waiting for me to approve her request.
“No,” I whisper. Her eyes look up to mine.
“No?” she asks quietly, lifting her head up for me as I pull her hair tie out. I grab a handful of her hair, bringing it to my face. I inhale deeply.
“Mmm ...” I exhale and look back into her beautiful green eyes. “I love you. I’m so in love with you, Becca. You’re right, baby; none of this matters. Just you, me, and our family. I love how you believe in me. How you now believe in us. I’m going to work my hardest. I won’t disappoint you.” I grab her hand from my face and plant a kiss in her palm. Slowly, I work my way up her arm.
“You never disappoint me, sweetie.” She speaks softly in my ear. She knows how that tone affects me. Her open mouth welcomes mine. I pin her arms down on either side of her head. Her knee nudges my hip again.
“No,” I say sternly.
“Please, baby,” she begs. I ignore her and enjoy the taste of her skin instead.
“Feel good, baby?”
I catch her nipple in my mouth again. My right hand teases her, softly caressing the inside of her thighs with a light tickle. Up and down the apex of her groin, I trace along her plumping lips. My fingers go everywhere but where she encourages with her hips. Her lips become slick.
“Go ahead ... see what you do to me.”
She moves her hips over so that my fingers slide against her.
“Jesus, baby!” I gasp. I may need the galoshes and raincoat she talked about a few nights ago! I bring my face back to hers as I plunge my fingers inside. I enjoy the sounds that escape her throat.
“Oh, baby,” she moans against my lips. “Don’t you want to take what’s yours?”
The use of my own words against me dizzies me with the need to explode. I sit up and pull her with me.
“Straddle me with your back to my chest,” I say. She turns and climbs back, then rises up on her knees. “Come down, baby,” I instruct, holding myself at her entrance. My paradise. My home. Slowly, she slides down on me, releasing a whimper as I stretch her. Christ, she’s still so tight. I gasp. “Gotta love Kegels,” I mumble as I guide her hips down fully. I grab her arms and pull them back to me, forcing her to arch her body. She cries from the fullness. “Come on, baby.” I nip at her ear. My left hand wraps around both of her wrists, and my right hand travels up her thigh and into the source of both of our pleasure.
“Ugh ... oh,” she cries as I pull back on her wall to help her take more of me in.
“That’s it, baby, c’mon now.” My fingers glide up to her clit. The teasing sends her hips into action and she begins to ride me at a slow pace, making sure to get her “fill” of me every time she lowers herself. “Faster, baby,” I command after a few minutes of her agonizing pace. Dutifully, she responds to my request. “Faster!” I say, releasing her arms. Supporting myself on my left arm, I grasp her right hip and guide her at the pace I’m looking for.
“Oh, Ray ... baby ... ugh.”
I wrap my right arm around her, pulling her close to me. I bite along her shoulder and neck as she rides the waves of her orgasm.
“Ah!” I groan as I feel the buildup coming on and the surge climbing up and into my dick. “Becs, baby ... yes!” I gasp as she tightens around me, helping me explode like a volcano. It’s so intense I almost forget to exhale. I gasp for air against her back. My hands rest on her belly, which tightens every few minutes. “Is that normal? Your belly tensing up like this?” I raise my head and lay my chin on her shoulder.
“Hmm-mmm, from the orgasm. It’s okay, sweetie.” She turns her head and gives me a warm, content smile. She rises one last time to pull me out of her, taking in a sharp breath. We lie on our sides, facing each other. Like a magnet, my hand automatically reaches to caress her stomach. “We’re amazing together, Ray,” she says, leaning in for a kiss.
“Yeah ... been trying to tell you that for five years
now,” I tease.
“It’s just too mind-blowing, that’s why I forgot.” She giggles lightly.
“Oh, Becs. God, I love you, baby. You are everything I never knew existed. You’re like a dream, a fairytale.” I trace her jawline, then her lips, with my index finger. She takes in a shaky breath and her eyes fill up. “Oh, baby, don’t. Why are you crying?” I kiss her eyelids.
“You just say the most wonderful things to me.”
She licks her lips and kisses me.
“Not always. I’ve said my share of pretty terrible things to you over the years.”
I close my eyes as regret consumes me.
“Stop. It doesn’t matter anymore. I know where it came from.” Her finger taps my lips. I kiss it, and her eyes light up. “So, do you want to tell me about Montreal?”
“You don’t remember anything?” I ask.
“I remember going with you. You were taking a course in French architecture. You asked me to go because you didn’t want to be there all by yourself. We had a great time.”
“Shit, baby,” I say, “this is so frustrating.”
“Well, tell me and maybe it will trigger my memory.” She scrunches her pillow under her head, anticipating the revelation of a forgotten memory.
“Well, we drove up on a Saturday,” I start.
“You made me go dancing when we got there.” She rolls her eyes.
“Yes, I wanted to take you out dancing. It wasn’t so bad, I recall you having a good time.” I poke her shoulder.
“I did. You’re right.”
She grabs my hand.
“When we got back, you took a shower while I went to meet a colleague for a quick drink downstairs. I actually went to give you time. I knew you were going to flip out when you went to get dressed for bed.”
“Why?”
“Um ... because, I bought you several different nighties, from a few silk gowns to some more risqué, see-through sorts of things. I had Stacey replace your SRPs with them before you left.” I grin at my cleverness.
“Hey! I packed nice pajamas! They weren’t sex-repellant pajamas!” she defends herself. I raise my eyebrows at her. She gives in, letting her smile hit her eyes.
“So, when I came back, you were wrapped in a towel in the bedroom, looking through your suitcase, pissed as hell. I decided to jump in the other bathroom for a quick shower. When I was done, I walked over to the bedroom. Your back was to me. You were wearing the long, red silk gown, just like I knew you would.”
“How did you know I would wear that one?”
She reaches for the covers.
“Because, while it was very sexy—especially on you, baby—it was elegant, simple, and could pass as something you might normally wear to bed. Anyway, I was leaning against the doorframe, watching you iron my shirt for the next day.”
“Oh, Mr. Cleaver ... me in a gown like that, ironing your shirt ... you must’ve been fighting off a case of possible premature ejaculation,” she says, giggling.
“Oh, Mrs. Cleaver ... you have no idea,” I agree.
“Did I have your pipe and slippers waiting for you?” she teases. I love that she understands me and doesn’t get offended by it like most women would. I love that she’s kind of old-fashioned with certain things, like I am. “C’mon, McNeil.” She nudges me. “Carry on, please!”
“Well, you were on the phone with Stacey, asking her why she switched out your PJs. Then you said, ‘Ray did not buy these for me!’ I came up from behind you. ‘Yes I did,’ I said, placing my hands on your hips. You turned around quickly, your mouth open in shock. You scanned me with your eyes. ‘Say good night to Stacey, babe.’ You just stared at me doe-eyed. I grabbed the phone from you, ‘Night, Stace,’ I said, sighing into the phone. Stacey almost had me in a fit of laughter.”
“Why?”
“She said to me, ‘Now be gentle ... remember, this is her first time with you.’ I just said ‘Yep’ and tried not to laugh. I hung up on her and tossed your phone onto the chair. ‘Jesus, baby, you’re so beautiful.’ I held your face with my left hand and let my fingers on my free hand travel down like this.”
I run my fingers down her neck and across her shoulder.
“Mmm ... I remember. It’s a bit fuzzy, but I remember feeling nervous and unsure. Most of all, I felt desire. I wanted you to touch me. I’ve always wanted you to touch me. There was always something there for you, Ray. My feelings gnawed at me constantly,” she confesses. “Please go on. My memory is hazy.”
“Well, you did what you normally do when you’re nervous.”
“Left field?”
“Yep! You said, ‘Um, I ironed some of your shirts.’ I glanced over at the shirts and back at you. ‘Thanks, baby.’ I leaned in closer. ‘You always take good care of me.’ My lips were barely touching yours. Your breathing was so erratic. I swept your lips gently, over and over again, with mine. I pulled your hair out of your hair tie and dove my hand into it. I rubbed my nose against yours as my fingers migrated to your nipple. I slowly traced around it, affecting you like I am right now.” I watch as she takes in a sharp breath and closes her eyes. “I kissed you like this.” I lean in and grasp her lips gently, taking my time to deepen the kiss. “‘Ray, wait,’ you said, pulling away.”
“Don’t wait, Ray.” Becca smiles and pulls me back to her.
“No, no. I’m in the middle of a story here ... frustrating, though, isn’t it?” I smirk. She nods. I can see she feels bad again. “So you said, ‘I don’t want to lose our friendship. What if things go bad between us? I know we’re both not seeing anyone, and we have needs, but I don’t think we should chance our friendship just to have sex.’”
Becca winces. “Oh, yikes.”
“Yeah. I was prepared for you to say something like that.” I tap her nose with my index finger. “I said, ‘Becs, you are indeed my very best friend. That aside, you are also the only woman I’ve been seeing for a few years. You are the only woman I want to see for the rest of my life. I’m in love with you, baby, and I know that you love me. So let’s stop worrying about our friendship, because we have a whole lot more going on here than just friendship. We should nurture all of it. Now, I’m going to kiss you again, baby. Don’t pull away, just let it happen.’
You said, ‘Ray, I’m scared,’ and looked away. I pulled your face back to mine and said, ‘Becca, I’m scared too. For my own reasons.’ Your eyes darted up to mine as you realized I was referring to my past with Liz. I think, at that moment, you truly realized that I was left alone too, to figure everything out on my own. It wasn’t for the same reasons, but it had a lot of the same outcomes. I said, ‘Becs, you’re the only one I trust to mend my broken heart. Will you please trust me with yours?’ You said, ‘I do. I’m just afraid I’m going to lose you.’
‘Baby, we’re both afraid of that. But it could still happen, even if we push the idea of us aside. Then we’d be left with the regret over wasted time when we could’ve been making each other happy. We’ve wasted three years already! Baby, I don’t want to do this anymore. I want us. I want our family. Please, don’t push me away.’ I rested my forehead against yours. In true Becca James style, you planted your hands on my shoulders and said, ‘Wow, McNeil ... you are working very, very hard at getting laid tonight!’
I shook my head and said, ‘Overwhelmed, huh? Well, let me tell you something: In a minute, I’m going to have you up against that wall with your legs wrapped around my waist as I overwhelm the shit out of you, and the only goddamn thing that will be coming out of that smart mouth of yours is my fucking name!’ I was ready for you to go ballistic, but instead you said, ‘McNeil, Jesus ... that was fucking hot! Let’s do that our second time though, not our first.’ I must’ve had a shocked look on my face. You just laughed and started kissing me. Totally brought me from boiling over to a nice simmer.”
“Mmm ... we were so good together that night.” She grabs my hand and kisses my palm before she snuggles it to her chest.
“Baby, we’
re always good together!” I jerk my head, looking at her oddly.
“Yes, but there was something about that night. It may have been a combination of your words, your touch, the French music you played, the French wine I drank, and Old Montreal. I felt as if I was under a completely wonderful spell.”
“You remembering better now?” I lay my head back down in front of hers. “Do you remember the next day?”
“Yes. We spent it walking the cobblestone streets, taking in the architecture and whatever sites we happened across.”
“Our favorite coffee shop,” I add.
“Our favorite little bistro.” She beams. “It was so beautiful and romantic. I loved being there with you.” Her eyes fill up.
“What, baby?” I thumb the tears away.
“I just hate that I blocked all of these memories out. You trusted me to mend your heart, but I just kept breaking it. How could you continue to love me and wait for me? I didn’t deserve you,” she cries.
“So, on Monday I had to leave you to your own devices while I went to class.”
“Ray!” Becca cuts in.
“Becca, please. Bare feet, right? I just want you to get these memories back so they become ‘ours’ again. Promise me one thing, though.” I palm her left cheek.
“What, sweetie?” She takes in a deep, shaky breath.
“When and if you get a memory back that shines a bad light on me, will you please try to look past it? This relationship has been stressful, emotionally draining, and painful for me at times. I didn’t always handle it well.”
“So, you went off to class and I spent the morning at a spa getting my lady parts waxed and my hair done.” She goes back to the memory. I thank her with a kiss.
“Why did you get waxed?” I say, cringing.
“I didn’t want to worry about missed patches of hair. It had been a while since I’d done all that waxing—had me singing like a virgin!” She crosses her eyes and makes a goofy face. I laugh a little. “So, I was twenty minutes late to meet you since I went to get lunch for us. You were sitting on that little cement wall by the stairs looking like your dog died.”
Goodbye Uncertainty Page 17