by Lisa Swallow
Tara’s eyes tear again. “Sky, that’s beautiful. Thank you for letting me be part of this.”
I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I’d rather have you here than anybody else.”
My heart stutters as we head from the villa towards the path leading to the ocean. Couples who marry here usually choose the resort edge with panoramic views across the beautiful Balinese landscape. We never considered using the resort area laid out with chairs for numerous guests, sheltered beneath a large gazebo. There’s only one place I can marry Dylan. The beach.
I told Dylan I’m happy if he chooses casual for a beach wedding, and he refused point-blank; he told me he was wearing a suit on his wedding day. I joked I’d arrive in a bikini, sarong, and flip-flops and he shrugged. Then he said something really odd about how marrying me in Bali, far away from an airport, means I can’t escape and change my mind. I think he was only half joking.
I’m not nervous about the wedding at all. We tell each other every day how we feel, although he doesn’t need to because I share the strength of Dylan’s love and passion. This is a final commitment because this will be final.
The simple gazebo decorated in flowers to match my hair and bouquet looks odd, the beach clear of everything and everybody but Dylan, the celebrant, and Tom. I walk across the white sand towards them. Oddly, Dylan crouches near the table focused on the ground. Tom nudges him, and he stands and looks round.
Dylan looks out of place in his designer suit on a tropical beach, but we could be anywhere, I don’t care. As I approach, he grabs my hand, tugs me towards him, and places a soft kiss on my lips.
I take in his full appearance, the black shirt open at the collar beneath the jacket, tailored trousers, but no shoes. This would amuse me if I wasn’t barefoot too.
“You didn’t go with the bikini idea, then?” he asks.
“No.”
“You look beautiful,” he whispers. “I’m happy you chose a ‘Sky dress.’”
I refused the designer options as always, the skirt’s cool cotton sweeps loose across my knees, spaghetti straps on my shoulders. Dylan touches the first necklace I ever allowed him to buy me, the one with sapphire to match my eyes and the ribbons in my hair.
I brush hair from his eyes, where his growing curls dip downwards. Already he looks like a different man to the one who crashed into my life eighteen months ago. Not only his hair, but the tired lines on his face and pale distance have retreated. Dylan’s blue eyes reflect the ocean, my man from the sea. Where else could we marry but here?
“You look hot,” I say.
“You said it,” he says with a laugh.
“No, I mean in your suit,” I say and smile back. “You know perfectly well how hot I think you are.”
His eyes reflect the same memories as I’m having, last night, every time, the incredible and unimaginably skillful things this man does to me. And the power I have over him.
“Shall we begin?”
I blink at the young Balinese woman who stands beneath the simple canvas shade, in traditional dress, beaming at us. I don’t miss her pink-cheeked, snatched glances at my god of a man, but Dylan can’t take his hands and eyes from mine.
“Dylan, let go,” I whisper. “You’re crushing my hands.”
“I’m never letting you go.”
I hold back on throwing myself into his arms and kissing him with the passion forcing itself to the surface. Not inviting people to the wedding was to attempt to keep our marriage quiet for as long as possible, but a different reason lies underneath. This is mine and Dylan’s moment in time, and nobody should share it.
“I love you,” I say.
Dylan’s smile grows, sharpening his cheekbones, and he cups my face in one hand. “Well that’s a bloody good thing for me to hear right now.”
I catch sight of something close to Dylan’s bare feet. Two small hearts created by shells interlock.
“Did you make that?”
He nods and strokes my cheek. “Yes. And don’t break the shells this time.”
My attempt to rein in the emotions, at least until we say our vows, fails as fought tears spill, and I wrap my arms around his neck. Dylan holds my waist, a surprised noise escaping his throat as I press my lips on his.
Sheltered from the sun and the world for a few minutes, we look into each other’s eyes. I’ve always known. The look we exchange says more than words ever can. The vows are a formality.
I’m drawn to him, the man who is my gravity as we hold each other in an orbit of our own. I was always his, and always will be. The union between us happened months ago. No reason ever existed for me to distance myself from this man whose heart I take care of, and who mended mine.
DYLAN
The woman who anchors me to this world, who’ll be with me through this one and the next, looks back with adoration I once thought I didn’t deserve. I wipe a stray tear from her cheek with my thumb, and when she smiles, the world around explodes into a blinding light.
I love her, but saying the words doesn’t feel like enough. How can I express something indescribable in words? I tried with a song, which she loves, but even that isn’t enough to hold out to the world and her how deep my love goes. Our lives move along the same path, our bodies mould together as naturally as if we were one person, and each day we weave together until we almost are.
Sky wears a simple dress and is barefoot too, somehow smaller and more vulnerable but her. She’s natural, normal but fills my universe.
I’ve fought with her for this moment, to express my love for the world to see, over and over, but now all I want is for everybody to leave us alone.
No. All I want is to wear a ring, a symbol that I can be normal too: in love, married, and one day a family. A symbol that the old egotistical, immoral Dylan Morgan is dead. The heart once dulled by watching my parent’s marriage fall apart finally believes in love again, because of Sky.
The vows are simple, spoken softly, almost as if they’re only for each other’s ears. The words spill from my mouth, but all I’m focused on is the alarm Sky won’t stop crying. I know how deeply she feels, how hidden her heart is, and how easily she holds people at arms’ length with her aloof sarcasm. But grow to know Sky, gain her trust, and she’s the most beautiful soul you can imagine.
Maybe that’s why we fit; she showed me mine could be too.
11
SKY
Dylan pulls at his half-unbuttoned shirt, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he pulls it over his head and dumps it on the nearby sofa. “You were right about the suit.”
Bemused by his behaviour, I head over and run my hands along his smooth chest. “I know you were keen to leave Tara and Tom, to come back here, but I didn’t expect you to strip the moment we were alone.”
“I’m changing!” he protests.
“Seriously? You’re planning to do something else rather than take your wife to bed?”
His face softens, and he reaches for the ribbon in my hair. “Wife. Sounds good.”
My scalp tickles as he pulls at the ribbon and my hair breaks free, dropping against my neck. I slide my hands around his neck, and pull him against me. We’ve kissed a lot today, to the point Tara told us to save it for later, and all I want is him to fulfill the promise made today by his hands and lips. Each touch, look, kiss, and my want became need until I reached the point I told Dylan we needed to leave Tara and Tom to be alone.
Dylan runs his finger along my neck and caresses the nape. “You look beautiful today, but now I need to see you naked.” Lips on mine, he unzips my dress, and I step back, allowing the material to fall to the floor, shortly joined by my bra. “And in my bed.”
He grips my hair, deepening his kiss and taking me back into the place he always does. The taste and scent of him instantly arousing me.
I press myself against him, fingers going to his trouser button and flicking it open. He’s hard against my hand, before I’ve touched him, my hands sliding over as he shucks off his trous
ers.
Without another word, Dylan backs me against the wall, mouth meeting mine with a devouring hunger I match. His hands move roughly across my body, possessively and with an urgency I match.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, and drags his tongue across my skin, taking one hardened nipple in his mouth. Hardwired to the rest of me, the action jolts more arousal, and I grip his hair, holding his face to my skin, eager for him to explore her further.
He pulls my silk panties to one side, growling against my mouth as he discovers the wet heat. Dylan moves his head, nipping at my skin as he moves to my ear. He pulls my head back by the hair, the way he always does to indicate gentle isn’t coming soon. My breath catches at the sensation, as he drags his face across my neck and shoulders, the nipping getting harder.
Dylan switches from the restrained, loving, and polite guy who drank champagne with my friends to the demanding, unrestrained, and passionate man who I love equally. He takes a shuddering breath as he rests his forehead against mine. “Bed.”
The world upends for the second time today as Dylan bends and lifts me across his shoulder, strong arm holding me in place as I steady myself. I protest and slap his ass as he heads towards the bedroom.
Dylan kicks the door shut, and I bounce against the huge bed as he drops me onto the mattress. He crawls onto the bed, one hand either side of me, and looks down.
“I’ve been thinking about this moment all day,” he says in a low voice, one hand sliding along my leg. “A lot of moments.”
He nudges my nose and sits back again, running both hands along my belly, then hooks his fingers into my panties and drags them off. His hungry gaze trails heat across my skin as he steps back and finishes undressing.
The one I return matches his, stomach filling with the usual butterflies as I look back at the incredible sight of Dylan. I lusted after this beautiful man within hours of meeting him, never imagining I’d be here, now. But what strikes me most right now is the thing I always see in Dylan’s eyes. Love. His intentions are reflected in the dark lust in there too, but the love holds me in his grasp as much as the physical need.
Immediately, he’s on me, our bodies slick from the heat as our skin touches. “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you on the beach today.” He trails his tongue across my breasts, downwards, dipping his tongue into my navel
“I love you,” he says in a low voice between kisses.
“And I—” My words are interrupted by my breath escaping as Dylan grabs my calves and drags me towards the edge of the bed. He runs his tongue along my inner thigh.
Without a word, his mouth is on me, the lightening jolt pushing straight down. Gripping my thighs, holding me in place unable to move, Dylan explores me with his tongue, and I mumble something incoherent. My arousal’s instant, has followed me at a low level all day since the first kiss on the beach. He switches between teasing my clit with his tongue and fingers, working me higher. I protest, half sit, and pull at his hair, but he pushes me back down with one broad palm, before sliding that hand under my ass and holding me closer against his mouth.
Relenting to his attention, I dig my fingers into my hair and close my eyes, unable to fight the building pressure inside. Sensation shivers through every part of my being as he skilfully spirals me higher, stroking and teasing me. I pray he’s not going to stay on the teasing route, but he doesn’t have a chance. The suddenness with which my body reacts, at the intensity tearing through my body, shocks me. Dylan doesn’t stop, pushing me to the edge again, and I move against him, legs shaking, swearing.
He laughs, the sensation reverberating against me as he slips a finger inside. I protest, but my body has other ideas, another shockwave joining the first. As usual, this man has reduced me to a panting mess, and I push up onto my elbows and tug at his hair again.
“Dylan.” My voice is hoarse, almost unable to stop my trembling arms giving way.
“Problem?” he asks looking up at me.
“Yes.”
He shuffles closer, erection brushing the sensitive flesh, and I almost jump on him right then. We stare back at each other, and Dylan rubs his lips together, holding the tip of himself against me. ”I was gonna do this gently, but I can’t. I need you now.”
“Same,” I mumble.
He’s hard against me, slipping against my wetness, and I slide my hands along his back, wriggling against him. “Don’t slow down, Dylan.”
My aching need spills out, and the heady mix of lust and love that’s followed me since the second I became his needs freeing. Dylan should be with me, inside me, part of me, and then I’ll finally be totally his.
Lust-filled eyes on mine, he pushes himself into me, achingly slow, until he holds himself from filling me, looking down, mouth parted, enjoying my unravelling control.
“Dylan,” I repeat. “Now.”
Grabbing my hips, he thrusts into me hard, holding himself to the hilt and pausing. My heart thuds, the fire inside for this man roaring as I pull him close. For a second we grip each other, a moment of pure love in the midst of the lust.
“I love that you’re mine,” he whispers
I reach out and touch his cheek. “I love you.”
Dylan smiles, then shifts, pulling me onto his lap, still inside me, and I wind my arms around his neck. We still, soaking up the connection, my heart thudding in my chest, soul no longer reaching out to his because together we’re complete.
Sex with Dylan swings between gentle and unrestrained, but is always about us. I never expected marrying him would change anything, but seeing our love’s beautiful truth in his eyes, my ability to finally let doubts he could want me forever melt away.
Something in this moment pulls us back to the day we reunited after the time and distance that should never have happened. This man is a part of me. I don’t understand how the universe works, or how this can happen, but I believe we came from the same place. My heart never searched for anything, my logic once tying me to a man who couldn’t evoke what Dylan does.
The day I saw myself mirrored when I looked into his eyes I knew then I was lost to him. Lost, I found where I needed to be. I want to tell him I love him again, over and over, but the words seem useless. We shift into our world, the one we created together and are lost in, the one that exists on the edge of everybody else’s.
I hold his face in both hands, kiss him, relishing the feeling of his hard body against mine, how his tenderness edges into the lust. Gripping my ass, he lifts me so I slide against his thick length. His fingers bite into my hips as he pushes me back down onto him. Hard. I grip his shoulders and stare back into his eyes. We move together, Dylan guiding my hips as I slide again and again. My nipples brush his hard chest, pushing me further towards the stars.
The blinding explosion in my head courses through me again, and I sink against him, wave after wave of bliss engulfing me. Dylan doesn’t stop, shifting position, as he takes over, pushing me backwards onto the bed. My body ripples with pleasure still, the harder, faster movement joined by his thumb on my clit at the same time. His hooded eyes watch me, but I can’t hold his look, eyes closing as the pleasure builds again. I shudder further and grip his hair, loving that I do this to him too.
His urgency increases, breath shallower as I grasp at him in pleasure, bodies sliding together. He loses himself in his own orgasm, swearing before holding his hands either side of my head and looking down at me.
“Did I tell you that I love you?” he asks. “You break my brain sometimes, but I fucking love you.”
I slap his ass. “Don’t swear at me, Dylan Morgan.”
He pushes damp hair from my face and rests his forehead against mine. “I’m looking forward to the rest of the night.”
“Night? It’s still the afternoon.” I slide my hand into his hair.
The fan whirs above us, pulling us back to the surroundings, but not out of our world. He strokes my face, running fingertips along my lips. “I don’t need to wait for tomorrow anymore. Today y
ou’re my forever.”
12
CHRISTMAS 2014
SKY
I love a white Christmas but haven’t experienced one for years. Last Christmas spent on Dylan’s island was filled with very un-festive sun, and snow isn’t likely in the part of Spain we’re in this year. Dylan wanted to spend Christmas on his island again, and I’m determined to take the Scrooge out of him. I know he hates Christmas, but we need to make memories of our own now. Besides, Dylan can’t avoid meeting my family any longer.
This year, we keep the promise we made to Mum and travel to her and my stepdad’s house on the outskirts of Barcelona. I’d prefer to spend Christmas all together as a family at Dylan’s, but Mum insisted we stay at their place instead.
We arrived this morning, and after an awkward hour together, my Mum and stepbrother head out for last minute Christmas Eve shopping. I retreat to the lounge and sit close to the open fire in the large room, hoping to warm up. I’m not used to the cold after our tropical holidays and snuggle beneath a blue blanket. Dylan decides to take a walk while I bury myself in a book and enjoy the peace.
A tall Christmas tree fills half the room, covered in bright blue and red baubles and tinsel. The pine scent mingles with the burning logs and pulls me back to my traditional Christmases. It’s a long time since we spent the holidays together as a family, especially since my brother moved to the States. My whole family have become distant recently, and I’m determined to fix this.
“It’s bloody cold out there.” Dylan’s voice breaks me away from my daydreams. His tall frame takes up most of the low doorway leading to the paved hall, and he stands with his hands in the pockets of a hoodie he’s wearing over a thick black sweater. Dylan’s face is partially hidden beneath the hood. With his body and tattoos covered up like this, the extraordinary Dylan could be an ordinary guy. But take a couple of layers of clothes off this man, and he most definitely isn’t.