by Brinda Berry
“Cool shot,” Dane mutters.
Putting the chip on my napkin, I close my eyes. Dane slings an arm over my shoulders.
He never gets this handsy. God, I could get used to this. His Sparticus arm feels so good around me. I inhale his scent of leather and shampoo and sex appeal.
“Too much for you?” he asks. “Can’t you stand a little blood?”
“Uh, no. Not while I’m snacking.”
He pats my arm. “Do you want me to turn it off?”
“No, but I need more sex and less of the blood.”
He laughs and I feel that deep sexy rumble migrating from his chest into my body. Maybe I should get squeamish more often.
I snuggle closer. He never does this, and it feels so like a hug that just for a moment, I pretend that we’re on a date. Harmless.
“Your wish came true. Open your eyes.” Dane rubs the top of my shoulder. He doesn’t remove his arm like I expect him to.
On screen, the hero is shedding his bloody military uniform and giving a very heated stare to the female lead.
“Whoa. That’s a switch.”
“Adrenaline. Fighting makes a guy…well…”
“Oh,” I mutter and keep watching the two on-screen. “God,” I mumble. “The way that man kisses her.”
“What about it?”
His voice is so low, yet I startle. Did I say that out loud about the kissing? Of course I did. “It's just…I don’t know. It’s more than a kiss.”
“How do you mean?”
“You can feel how much he cares about her. I mean, no one’s ever kissed me like that.” My face heats because, hello, too much information.
“Never?” He sounds confused as if I’ve blown his mind. There’s a pregnant pause.
Do I imagine that he turns his body toward me? Holy moly, I can’t look at him.
Dane shifts his weight and his face is closer to mine than earlier. “You’ve obviously been kissed by the wrong people.”
I take a shallow breath and all my nerves spark. Change the subject. Watch the movie. Or jump his bones. It’s an option.
His fingers grip my chin and he turns my head. I stare into his dark eyes and drown at the desire swirling in them. It’s my imagination. That thing people do when they project their own wants onto someone else.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says. “I really don’t want you to stop me, but now’s the time if you’re going to.”
Because Dane and I…it would’ve happened way before now if this was meant to be. Go ahead and kiss him, says a teeny, tiny voice in my brain. You brought up the lack of proper kissing in your life, and he feels the need to oblige.
My lips touch his and by entire body thrums—a beat in a dance club, a steam engine with no brakes. He slants his mouth across mine and caresses my lips for seconds before the kiss grows more intense. The sexy dart of his tongue into my mouth prompts me to squeeze my thighs together.
Oh Lord, this man can kiss. He could work in Hollywood. Kissing coach for hire.
His tongue tangles with mine and then his hand grips the back of my hair, holding me exactly in place so he can do with me what he wants.
His hand presses against the middle of my back and my breasts smash his chest. My nipples harden, and I press my thighs together harder.
It’s been too long since I’ve been with anyone.
It’s been forever since Dane has wanted me.
Then, his mouth no longer crushes against mine, but skates across my jaw and down my neck. His teeth nip against my collarbone and he licks along the swell of my breast.
I fall back and pull him with me, not ending the glory of this kiss. He returns to my lips. When he sucks the tip of my tongue while using one hand to caress my breast and the other to reach down to grab my ass, I moan.
Damn. This man can walk and chew gum. Definitely.
One knee parts my thighs and I open them willingly. The length of his erection presses against me and I swear my eyes roll back into my head.
He pulls his lips from mine and my mouth follows the magnet. “I was only…” he murmurs and gently bites my bottom lip, “going to kiss you.”
My fingers tremble as I undo the first button of his shirt, then the second.
“Butterfly,” he whispers, his voice smoky.
“Take off your shirt.” I barely recognize my own voice.
“Yours first.” The corner of his mouth quirks up.
I press the palms of my hands against his chest and push. His brow furrows for a brief moment, and he shoves himself to the edge of the sofa in a liquid move, his glittering eyes never leaving mine.
I sit up and grab the bottom edges of my cotton shirt and pull it slowly over my head. His eyes lazily roam my chest and stomach and then move back up to my face.
“You make me weak,” he says. “A better man would stop right here.”
I try not to feel vulnerable, half-dressed and out of breath for him. “Dane Delacroix, you stop now, and I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Tell me how you really feel.” There’s a spark of amusement in his eyes and he chuckles low. He slides his knee closer to my hip, and one hand braces himself above my head.
“Take me to your bed. That’s how I really feel.”
He makes a low, growly sound and closes his eyes. “I don’t want you to regret this.”
I grab his hand and guide his palm over the curve of my belly and up between my breasts, the rough feel of his hand sending goose bumps along my skin. “Don’t make me beg.”
“Dammit,” he grinds out and picks me up. “Are you out of your mind? Tonight. Me and you. Finally.” He slings me over his shoulder like a sack of sugar at the bar and I give a delighted whoop.
He jostles me up and down due to his swift stride up the stairs. Dane smacks me on the ass with his free hand. “Be quiet woman. I’ll think you’ve changed your mind.”
“Stop that. I’m not into that BDSM stuff,” I say, a little cheery, a lot euphoric. “Unless you are.”
At this moment, I’ll take a spanking or anything else he has in mind.
“Butterfly? You into that?” He gives a dark laugh. “I’m going to lick every bit of you like my personal lollipop. You’re mine from your head to that sweet pussy.”
I squirm at his words. Dirty talking Dane. I should’ve known. He freezes at the doorway to his bedroom.
I lift my head and attempt to look at him. Oh, for the love of my sanity he can’t change his mind. “What?”
Dane grabs my waist and slides me down his body until my feet hit the ground. He puts his hands on each side of my head and cradles it. The eye contact is so intense I feel myself melting at this man’s feet.
I’m unnerved by the way the very air around me vibrates with sexual tension. I grin at him and break the silence. “Are you eye-fucking me?”
“I never thought I’d do this…well, hell.”
“Don’t get cold feet now,” I say and tug at the waist of his jeans so his groin bumps me. He’s rock hard and this pleases me more than any words.
“I’m trying to slow us down and savor this. I’m going to worship at the altar of Josie,” he whispers. “You know how many fantasies I’ve had about you?”
I’m afraid this is a dream—those perfect yet frustrating words from his mouth. This fantasy is about to come to life for me and I plan to blow his mind. I run my hand along the hard ridge of his erection and close my eyes.
“What took you so long?” I whisper and open my eyes to stare into his.
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head like a person warding off errant thoughts. Then he unfastens the catch of my bra and his eyes track the slow slide of the straps down my arms. I draw in a sharp breath when he groans, a sound so primal that it vibrates through my core.
My nipples ache when he brushes the knuckles of one hand across the tips. A touch so light with an impact like a dynamite blast. Hooking a strap with one finger, he pulls it away and slings it over his shoulder. “I
finally get to do what I’ve wanted all these years,” he murmurs, his smoky voice caressing me.
“Finally.” He wants his fantasy? I’m going to give it to him. Be bold and let him know how we can be together. Let him know what he’s been missing all these years. I push my panties and leggings down and step out of them.
The heat of his gaze sears a brand onto my sex, my heart, and my soul. His eyes say all the words he’s not saying with his lips—that I am wanted. Adored, even.
It fills me with a sense of elation because I’ve kept my own feelings under wraps, hidden deeper than the valleys of the Underworld. I’ll never love anyone like I love him.
“Yeah. Finally,” he says. And with those words, he takes my hand and leads me to his bed. “You won’t regret this. I’m going to make you scream my name in ecstasy.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Christmas Eve
Josie
“Dane!” Josie screams my name, drawn out like it’s the refrain in a rock anthem. It’s the tone more than the volume that puts a shiver dancing down my spine. It’s low and guttural, near animal-like. It’s four a.m. and we’ve been at the hospital for ten hours. I’ve planned all along to be in delivery with her, but I didn’t know her pain would hurt me so much.
I’d give anything to trade places with her.
Her eyes flash, and hair sticks to her cheeks. The delivery room smells of an antiseptic and sweat—Josie’s or mine, maybe both. We’re surrounded by four individuals in blue scrubs looking so strange and alien-like with only their eyes showing.
I glance at Dr. Shaffer. His eyes crinkle at the sides in a smile. “You’re doing really well. It’s almost over. One more push.”
Josie makes a sound, a cross between a whimper and a war-cry.
“I know, Butterfly. Hang in there.” I look down at her and nod. “One more push.”
She sears me with narrowed eyes, then purses her lips. “You push. I’m tired.”
I kiss her hand, the one that holds mine in a death grip. “I wish I could.”
“No. You. Don’t.” She grits her teeth and a wash of pain travels across her face, starting with her rounded eyes and ending at her pinched mouth. “Oh…oh…oh.”
Dr. Shaffer stands in my peripheral vision. He nods to me as calmly as a quarterback ready for directions from the coach. I don’t like acting as coach, but in this delivery room, it’s all I’ve got.
Now it’s time for center Josie to snap the ball. A delicate snap, but one only she can put straight in the quarterback’s hands.
“Come on,” I say as firmly as possible to get Josie’s attention. She’s pissed and tired. I get it. “You can do this. Remember that time when we were kids and you tackled me in flag football after I said girls couldn’t play? You kick ass and take names.”
“Uh,” she grunts and pants rapidly. I wipe sweat from her face with a cool rag. “I’m ripping apart.”
“No, you’re fine,” Dr. Shaffer says.
“Says you!” Josie opens her eyes and gives him the death stare.
“Josie,” I whisper. “We’re at the end. You’re doing great. Remember when—”
“Not. Now,” she says, each word exploding from her. “Daaaannne,” she yells. Then she moans, a sound I’ll never forget.
My chest crushes in sympathy and my throat tightens. When is this going to end?
“The baby’s coming,” the doc says quietly. “One more time.”
Josie attempts to sit up. A liquid sound alarms me. I look to the doctor and his eyes crinkle at the corners again.
“Aggggggghhhh….” Josie grunts with her eyes tightly closed. Her hand loosens on mine and I hold tighter.
My eyes fill with water. Fuck. Please, God. Make it stop.
And then I hear the sound of a tiny cry, so high-pitched yet strong.
“It’s a girl.” Dr. Shaffer holds the wrinkled baby up. She’s covered in milky liquid. He takes a few steps to put the baby on Josie’s chest. The nurse reaches over with a soft cloth to wipe some of the residue off our baby girl, but I can barely see for the damn water in my eyes.
“Dane?” Josie holds out her hand to me. “Are you okay?”
Well, shit. I suck in a shaky lungful of air. “Yeah. I’ve never been better.”
“She’s perfect,” Josie whispers in a daze.
“I knew she would be.” And then I lean over and kiss the woman I plan to make my wife.
Butterfly’s lips spread into a blissful smile. “We’re perfect. Merry Christmas.”
“What? Yeah,” I say in a croak. I swallow and swipe my forearm across the edge of my eye. Best present ever.
Epilogue
Dane
Where do you wed the girl of your heart? On a mountaintop, of course. It’s only fitting that we promise “I do” in the Smoky Mountains near the cabin where I first saw Josie as more than one of the guys.
The wedding chapel is supposed to hold fifty, and the few we invited sit in the pews of the small church. We’re early, but so are our guests. Many will stay in Gatlinburg after the wedding. They’re probably ready for us to get on with the ceremony.
I have an hour to stand around uncomfortably while Josie, along with her maid of honor Kiley, finishes getting ready in the back room.
My best man Gunner paces outside with his cranky baby. Leo stands whispering with Harper. He’s set to walk my bride down this tiny aisle.
A baby’s coo draws my eye. Mom sits in the first row holding Henley in her arms. At four months, Henley wraps everyone around her tiny fingers. She’s my little social butterfly.
I glance at my watch and then at the back room where I know Josie is getting ready. It’s going to be one long hour. The front door to the church opens, and a woman walks in.
There’s something about her that looks familiar, but I’m sure I don’t know her. Our wedding is so far from Nashville. I don’t expect to see strangers. She asks someone a question I can’t hear, then strides directly toward me.
“Dane?”
“Yes.” I smile at her. “I don’t think we’ve met. Do you know Josie?”
“I don’t,” she answers with an air of mystery. “But I look forward to meeting her.”
I shift uneasily. “So, do you know my parents?”
She holds out her hand. “I’m Meggie, Ellen’s sister. Your aunt.”
The sister who cut ties with Ellen? A person who should’ve been there to help all this time? Disgust washes over me. “I…I didn’t expect to ever meet you.”
It takes me a second to realize she’s still holding out her hand to me. I slip my hand into hers for a brief shake.
“I know it’s a shock,” she says. “Ellen and I…we’re trying to mend our relationship. We used to be close.”
Staring at her face, I understand why she looks familiar. She and Ellen have the same eyes and nose. They even share the same smile.
But what happened between these two that did that much damage? Then I remember how many times in the past months I’ve wanted to cut my own ties.
It’s a long road to mending some hurts. But worth it, I think.
I exhale and look around at the people I love who came to witness this day. “Why isn’t she here? She said a friend from support group would bring her.”
Meggie nods. “She was talking about me. Can we step outside and talk? I know the timing is bad, but I don’t want to bother you afterward.”
“Sure. Why not.” I suck in a deep breath. I give her a smile and then point to a back entrance. “Why don’t we go out back?”
“Yes,” she says. We stroll to the door and I open the door, then follow her outside.
“Ellen’s never said much about you.”
“No. She never said much about you either, until recently. I only knew she had a baby and gave him away. I’m going to make this short.” She pulls out a business card. “Here’s my contact info. I work for an oil company and live right outside of Nashville. I’d like to get to know you and your family.”
I pull in a breath. “Okay.”
Meggie steps to the side of the church, away from the back door. She wraps her arms across her chest in the chilly weather. “I went to see Ellen yesterday. She isn’t feeling well this week. She asked me to come without her. She was afraid she’d…”
“What?”
Meggie shakes her head and closes her eyes, then opens them. “She said she couldn’t trust herself at your wedding. She was too nervous about ruining it. She said to send her love to you and Josie and your little one.”
My chest gets tight. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“I want you to know that I know how you feel. Or maybe I know. It’s tough to deal with someone who can be wonderful one minute and not-so-wonderful the next. Ellen did horrible things to my family,” Meggie says. “I’ve had a hard time forgiving her. But when it comes down to it, she’s trying to get well. I need to let go of the past. We were close before she got mixed up with drugs.”
I don’t have time for a long conversation with this woman on my wedding day, but I’m curious as hell. I want to know if she worries about her own mental health. Is she schizophrenic, too? Does she have children?
I slow my racing brain so I can respond to her statement. Then her statement registers. “She was a drug addict?”
“Oh, yeah. She had this boyfriend right after you were born. He got her into all kinds of things—cocaine, meth, anything. We think that’s what caused her schizophrenia.”
The air punches from my lungs and my heartbeat drums in my ears. “What? Drugs can cause it?”
She gives me a quizzical look. “It can. Substance abuse can change the chemical balance. She didn’t tell you the schizophrenia came after?” Meggie pauses. “I guess she didn’t if she didn’t tell you about the drug use.”
Another piece of the Ellen puzzle clicks into place. Maybe I haven’t asked Ellen the right questions all these years and she’s only told me what she wanted me to hear.
I look toward the church and back to my newfound aunt. “Can we meet for coffee sometime? I really want to talk. But I guess I need to get back inside now.”