by Vi Keeland
She looked like she might cry. Dread knotted in the pit of my stomach.
“I don’t blame you for anything that happened, Caine. That’s not why I couldn’t see you for a while. I couldn’t see you because I couldn’t look at you. I’m so ashamed of everything that happened.”
“Ashamed? What are you talking about? You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Rachel looked down. “I let things go on for a long time and didn’t tell anyone. I should have gone to the police. Or told a teacher. If I had been less afraid, maybe my sister wouldn’t have gotten things so badly. Maybe she wouldn’t have spent half her life in and out of rehab. I was the only one who could have done something about what was going on, and I didn’t.”
I placed my hand under Rachel’s chin and lifted, forcing her to look at me. My heart broke when I saw tears streaming down her face.
“You did nothing wrong. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.”
“I should have—“
“You should have been a ten-year-old girl who went out and rode her bike without a care in the world. That’s what you should have been doing. The only person who did anything wrong to your sister was Benny. You were ten and scared and didn’t even fully understand everything that was happening. And even then, you did try to tell someone. You told me. I was older. I should’ve known better and gotten help.”
“You did help. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know how long it would have gone on.”
“I should have stopped it sooner.”
She shook her head. “The other day I was thinking about what made me go into that church to begin with, and I remembered a conversation I had with my mom. She told me to go there if something was ever bothering me inside. She said it was a place I could go to talk to God about anything. I was probably only about five when she told me that, so I took her advice very literally. I asked her what would happen if God was busy. And you know what she said?”
“What?”
“She told me if He was busy, one of His angels would listen.”
I stared at her, mesmerized by how strong and smart she’d been even back then. “Your mom sounds like a really special person, very spiritual.”
“She was. And she was also right, Caine. Don’t you see that? God was busy, so He sent me an angel. My own guardian angel. God sent me you.”
It didn’t matter that I looked like a pussy, I started to cry.
Rachel placed her hand over my heart. “It’s time we both let go of the past.”
“I’m so sorry for everything, Rachel.”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”
Leaning in, I cupped her beautiful face in my hands and kissed her with everything in me. Her cheeks were flushed when it broke.
“I almost forgot,” she said.
“What?”
Rachel took a step back and lifted her T-shirt off of her body. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and I couldn’t hide the expression on my face.
“Hold that thought, Professor. I want to show you something else.”
She turned around and looked at me over her shoulder. On the bottom left side of her lower back was a big bandage.
“What happened?”
“Take the tape off. But do it gently because I’m still a little sore.”
As I began to peel back the tape, I realized the area she had covered was her scar from Benny fifteen years ago.
“Did something happen to your scar?”
She smiled. “It’s not a scar. It’s just a cut that healed. The real scars are the ones you can’t see—those are the hardest to heal.”
Lifting the dressing, I had no words, seeing what she had done. I could no longer see the long scar that had marred her beautiful skin. It was covered by a tattoo of an angel.
“That’s you,” she said. “I’d buried so much so I wouldn’t have to deal with old emotions. Everything coming out now wasn’t easy, but I finally feel like I’m on the other side of those memories. They’ll always be there, but I can see them in the rearview mirror now instead of in front of me.”
I was so choked up, my voice croaked when I spoke. “It’s beautiful. Just like you.”
“I can keep the bandage off now. The guy at the tattoo parlor told me to leave it on for up to eight hours. I just got it done today.”
Rachel turned back around to face me. Her tits were so damn full and perky, I couldn’t help but be distracted by them.
“Caine?”
“Huh?” My eyes lifted back to meet hers.
She looked amused. “There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I can’t lie on my back.”
“That’s not a problem, Feisty. I can think of a lot of ways to be inside you without you being on your back.”
I leaned down and scooped her into my arms. Cradling her, I walked to the bedroom.
“Tell me, do you want to ride me, be on all fours, bend over the footboard, or spoon fuck? Or maybe you’d just rather sit on my face?”
I set Rachel down on the edge of the bed, removed her shorts and panties, and began to shed my own clothes. When I got down to my boxer briefs, I hooked my fingers in the sides and looked at her as I pulled them down. My cock was painfully hard.
“What’s your pleasure, sweetheart? Which one are you in the mood for?”
Rachel licked her lips. “I have to pick just one?”
I stepped out of my boxers and stroked myself a few times. “No, babe, you’re picking the first position. We’re going to do them all. Tomorrow you’re going to be so sore, it will hurt when you sit down in class. And I’m going to watch you sit and know exactly why you’re squirming in your seat. Then I’m going to have a hard-on for the entire class. Pick one so we can start making you sore.”
“Ride you. I want to ride you.”
Her face was so sexy with that impish smile. I climbed up on the bed, settling my back against the headboard, and lifted her onto my thighs. I wanted to watch her face while she took my cock into her body.
“Are you wet?” I slipped my fingers between her legs and found her completely soaked.
She nodded.
Gripping my cock, I held it near the base. “Take it. Nice and slow. I want to watch it disappear inside your pussy.”
Rachel lifted onto her knees, placing her hands on my shoulders for balance, and hovered over the glistening crown of my cock. I had the strongest urge to thrust up and bury myself deep inside her, but I didn’t. She wanted to ride me, and I wanted to give her anything she wanted.
“Christ,” I groaned as she began to lower herself onto my cock. She was so tight and hot. I was captivated by the sight of her pussy sucking me inside. It had only been a few weeks since we were last together, but I was starving for her like it had been years.
She lifted up and down a few times, easing me farther and farther in until she was seated with me fully inside, her ass pressed against my balls. When she started to gyrate her hips, I pressed my thumb to her clit and rubbed small circles, while I grabbed hold of her ponytail with the other.
“Ride me, Feisty. Ride me hard.”
She moaned, so I yanked a little harder. With her head back, her magnificent tits were right at my eye level. I watched them bouncing up and down, taking my eyes off only long enough to lean forward and suck a nipple into my mouth—one and then the other. Rachel’s speed increased—bobbing up and down, lifting halfway off my cock and taking me back in with a rhythm that was so fucking perfect. Just fucking perfect.
Whimpering, she began to lose steam as her orgasm took hold. I grabbed her hips and took over where she’d left off, thrusting up into her from underneath while she met me with whatever she had left. The tight squeeze of her pussy and her moaning my name over and over as she came undone had me thrusting harder and harder until my name was barely a whisper from her lips. I swallowed every last one of those moans in a kiss. Then I buried myself as deep as I possibly could and came long and hard inside of
her.
“I love you, Rachel Martin,” I mumbled against her lips.
“I love you, too, Caine West.”
We stayed like that for a long time, her sitting on my lap, me caressing her face.
I just couldn’t get over the way things had turned out. I was awestruck by her beauty, inside and out—and by the way fate had brought us back together again.
“What? You’re looking at me funny,” she said.
“It’s just so crazy how many years this has been in the making, how we found our way back to each other.”
Rachel smiled and tilted her head. “You know you’re the reason we met again, right?”
“I think Professor Clarence dying had something to do with it.”
“Maybe. But if it weren’t for you, I might not have even discovered the power of music for therapy. All those years ago, you gave me your headphones and told me to listen to music—to concentrate on the words whenever I was upset. I listened, and it really helped. That’s how I really got into music.”
I thought back. “I did give you headphones, didn’t I?”
“You did. You know I wrote you a letter the morning everything happened. Well, not you, but fake-priest you.”
“Oh yeah? Did you get to bring it to the church?”
“No. I don’t even know what happened to it. Got thrown out when we went to live with my aunt and uncle, I guess.”
“What did it say?”
“I don’t remember exactly. But I know I thanked you for talking to me every week.”
“I went back on Saturdays for a month just in case you came back. It felt like something was missing each time I went and you weren’t there.”
“There was. A little piece of your heart.” She smiled. “I kept it and brought it back to you.”
“No, you didn’t, Rachel. You’ve always had my heart, and I don’t ever want it back.”
Rachel
“If you’re going to ban sex, you need to start wearing a bra around the house,” Caine grumbled as he leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on my lips. He also slipped his hand under my shirt and pinched my nipple. Hard.
“Oww.”
“You love it, and you know it.”
My fiancé was grumpy, but he was also right. I secretly loved that he was growing more irritable by the day since I’d cut him off almost two weeks ago.
My eyes softened as I looked up at him. “What time will you be back?”
“Probably not until six. I need to go over all the grading my shit-for-brains TA has done before turning the final grades in.”
Caine was extremely unhappy with the TA he’d been assigned this year. I smiled.
“Once you’ve had the best, everyone else seems inferior.”
“You were a good TA. But I might’ve been influenced because of your great T and A. Come to think of it, since you’re not even giving me T and A now, you should at least give me the TA and do my grading.”
“No can do, Professor. I have a full day ahead of me. I need to finish packing the last of my things here this morning. Your sister and I are taking the girls to pick up their dresses and then out to lunch. After that, I have to go see Father McDonald to give him our readings and music choices. So you’re going to need to take care of things yourself.”
He pouted. “I’ve been taking care of myself for two weeks.”
I stood from the chair where I’d been sipping my morning coffee and pushed up on my tippy toes as I wrapped my arms around Caine’s neck.
“It’s just two more days. Think how much more exciting it will be when we finally go to bed Saturday night after the reception is over. And the next time you make love to me, I’ll be Mrs. Caine West.”
His eyes softened. “I do like the sound of that. Although I only agreed to wait until after the wedding. I never said anything about after the reception.”
“What did you think? We’re going to have sex in the car on the drive from the church to the restaurant?”
“I was thinking we could do it in the confessional, right after the priest says you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life.”
“That’s twisted on so many levels, even for you.”
Caine laughed. “I gotta run or I’m going to be late starting the exam. So give me that mouth and kiss me properly to get me through another day of celibacy.”
In one motion, he reached a hand around my back and squeezed my ass as he lifted me. My legs wrapped around his waist. His mouth melded to mine, the kiss hard and passionate. I moaned into his mouth as he backed me up to the wall and pinned me against it, using his hips so his hands could roam my body.
Yes, my soon-to-be husband definitely knew how to kiss me properly.
After he begrudgingly left my apartment without getting laid, I looked around at the sparse furnishings I had left to pack. Since we’d decided I was moving into Caine’s place, we’d been taking stuff there over the last month. Pretty much the only things left to box up were my wall of framed pictures, my books, and some personal things in the bathroom. I took on the books first and then moved to the wall.
I’d added some new pictures to my display over the last year: Caine and me at my graduation from grad school. I was facing the camera, smiling proudly about getting my degree, and Caine was looking at me with the same proud smile. Me and the crew from O’Leary’s on my last night working there. Charlie had his arm draped around my shoulder. He’d been a hard sell on accepting that Caine wasn’t a violent criminal. Ultimately, one night after Caine and I were back together, I’d told Charlie my entire story. After so many years of keeping everything pent up, it was odd to share it openly—but the more I talked about it, the farther back in the rearview mirror those ugly days went.
I missed working at O’Leary’s, but I loved my new job as a musical therapist. I worked as an independent contractor for a school district, doing one-on-one therapy with autistic children. It was a job that felt more like a reward than a grind. Caine and I had dinner with Charlie every week at O’Leary’s. He might not be my employer anymore, but he was the closest thing I’d had to a father figure since my uncle passed away. In fact, Charlie would be giving me away in two days. I suspected Caine would be getting a good eye-squint warning at the altar from him.
Even though my research was done and my thesis published, we still kept in touch with Lydia and Umberto. The first Sunday of every month, Caine and I brought Murphy to visit. I wasn’t sure who got more from our visits—us or them.
I packed two boxes of framed photos, feeling sentimental as I folded the bubble wrap over each memory. The last one I packed was the photo of my mother on the swing in our yard. I brushed my fingers over her beautiful face through the glass. Thanks, Mom. Without her advice to seek the church, I might never have met Caine.
The small slide-locks that kept the back of the frame on and the picture in place must have moved when I took the photo from the wall. As I reached for the bubble wrap, the cardboard back of the frame opened, and something fluttered to the ground. It was a folded-up piece of paper. Thinking it was probably a receipt or the sample picture that had come inside the frame, I picked it up and unfolded it.
I froze when I saw the handwriting on it.
Because it was my own.
It was less developed and messier than it was now, but it was mine. And I knew exactly what it was—the letter I’d written to the fake priest sixteen years ago. Until that moment, I hadn’t remembered putting it behind Mom’s picture. I steadied myself and took a deep breath before reading what I’d written.
Dear Father,
I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you when I was supposed to. My stepfather found out we were going to run away and got really mad. He said if he ever caught the person who was going to help us, he’d hurt them. So I can’t come talk to you on Saturdays anymore, because I don’t want him to hurt you. But I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for the headphones and for telling me how to listen to music to make everything better. Thank you for l
istening to me even when I was too afraid to talk. But most of all, thank you for being my angel when God was too busy. I hope I get to see you again someday.
-Rachel
I stared down at the page. And I read the letter a second time. Then a third. Mom had sent me my angel. I had no doubt about that.
Two days later, I walked down the aisle to marry the love of my life. My new little nieces, Lizzy and Alley, were flower girls. They walked ahead of me, dropping rose petals. When they reached the altar, Alley looked back with a giant smile, and I nodded my head, indicating it was time to drop the other things I’d slipped into her basket. She looked up at her uncle, then tossed two pennies at his feet. They both landed face up.
Charlie walked me down the aisle to a folksy remake of an old Gene Clark song, “Full Circle.” There were tears in Caine’s eyes as I came to stand next to him at the altar. He took my hand as the song finished playing, and together we smiled and turned to look back at our confessional. Just as the lyrics said, we’d come full circle. We’d traveled different paths to get back to where we’d started, but finally we were finished. Now it was the first day of the rest of our lives, and I couldn’t wait to start.
THE END
Dear Readers,
I hope you’ve enjoyed reading Beautiful Mistake!
My next novel, Dear Bridget, I Want You, will release on September 18, 2017, and is co-written with the amazing Penelope Ward. It’s a sexy, standalone novel, and I’d love to give you an exclusive sneak peek!
Just click below to sign up for our mailing list, and you’ll receive back an EXCLUSIVE look at Chapter 1 of Dear Bridget, I Want You – right now!
Read Chapter 1 of Dear Bridget, I Want You right now!
As always, I owe enormous gratitude to my amazing readers. Thank you for allowing my world to become a part of your world. I’m honored that so many of you have been with me for multiple books and can only hope we have many more years together.