“They’re you,” he says, enclosing my hand with his own at his breastbone. “They’re all you.”
“They are?”
“Yes.” He guides my hand to his shoulder, landing it on the top tattoo of a gear with an etched Latin phrase inside. “This one, the first one I ever got, was meant to represent everything we were and everything I left behind.” His eyes meet mine. “Everything I lost.”
My grip tightens around his skin, trying to conceal the hurt from which this body art was born. “What does it mean again?”
“Perfer et obdura. Dolor hic tibi proderit olim.”
My ears linger on the beautiful sound rolling off his tongue.
“Be patient and tough. Someday, this pain will be useful to you.”
My heart sinks. “Has it been useful?”
“I think it has. Some lessons can only be learned through the process of agony, and the deepest pains, the ones that cut and leave a scar, come from unforgettable love.”
He leads my palm back to his chest where the words Luctor et Emergo, Latin for I struggle and emerge, scroll across his pectoral.
“This one,” he continues, “I got to remind me that life carries on once you accept your truth and your circumstances. That we all do. We’re both survivors. I just needed to learn to become one, too.”
“I’m so sorry, Brent.” With a featherlight touch, the pads of my fingers drift along the words, taking in their importance.
“Don’t be. I’m not.” He halts my moving hand. “I needed to wake up. Experiences, good and bad, shape a person. I hope I’m better because of mine.”
“You were always better.”
“You give me too much credit.” He plants his warm mouth on my forehead. “But thank you.”
“What about the last one?”
Brent cups my face in his hand. “Faber est quisque fortunae suae.”
I could listen to him speak like this all night long.
“Every man is the architect of his own fortune.” With a gentle touch, he runs his thumb across my lips. “I had it done when I returned to the States. I used to think it was about me—my choices and my goals. Now, I know it was about you.” His fingers trace the features along my face. “I came back because I wasn’t happy. I came back because what I needed wasn’t in Sweden. Even though it might have helped to pave a path for part of my life, it wasn’t fulfilling my life. It was time to make a change, so I moved home to the States…and I found you.”
Our eyes connect, and he takes my heart.
“It has always been you. Every breath, every thought, every decision, every mistake, every sketch on my skin, and everything that I am—it all comes back to you.”
“God, I love you.” I sniff. “What am I supposed to say to that?”
“You don’t have to say anything.” His hand smooths over my shoulder and down the length of my arm. “Just know that I’ve always been yours.”
Edging my form closer to his, I kiss his lips with so much fervor that Brent stills at the moment of contact. Overcome by his words and proclamation, I ease his body back against the bed and straddle his waist, our lips still locked.
Sitting up, I slip the T-shirt over my head, exposing my flesh to the cool air, and then I lean down and trace my lips along the words on Brent’s chest. He caresses my head as I make my way over his defined abs to the waistband of his boxers. My fingers tug the elastic fabric, releasing his erection, and slide them down along the length of his legs. I slip off my panties and crawl back over Brent, breathing and kissing the man who belongs to me.
“I want you,” I admit with a decision flirting at the edges of my mind. “I want to feel all of you.”
“You can have all of me.”
Reaching between us, my fingers encircle his length, and I guide it toward my opening.
“Ruby,” he hisses, “what are you doing?”
“What do you think?”
“We can’t.”
He groans as I continue to flirt the tip of his cock with my folds.
“Let me get—”
“I want to.” I release his hard-on and hold his face in my hands. “You’re clean, and so am I.”
Our focus darts all over each other.
“I’m on birth control,” I add.
“But what about…you were before, too. I can’t go through that again. I can’t lose you like that.”
“You won’t. You have me in every way, and I’m not losing you again either.”
Conflict flickers across his face. “Are you sure? This is what you want?”
“I want everything that has to do with you.” My voice shakes a little from the gravity of my words.
“Are you scared?”
“Only that you’ll tell me no.”
He pulls my lips to his. “I love you. Remember that.”
“I’ve never forgotten.”
Our mouths move together in a languid rhythm as we savor each other’s inhales and exhales. Brent lowers his hand and hesitantly eases himself into me. He breathes heavily as I completely sink myself over him.
I still.
This is the reality of us, together, joining in a way that we haven’t been in years. We’re challenging and confronting the union of our past, the act that brought us close and ultimately had a hand in tearing us apart.
Accidents happen, and if it were to happen again, our decisions would be different this time around.
We would face our fear together.
“You’re so warm,” Brent utters, steadying his exhales. “And so beautiful.” He licks his lips. “You feel so completely amazing.”
“So do you,” I say, carefully rising and lowering over him.
Brent grabs my ass with one hand and kneads my breast with the other as I prop myself up with my palms on each side of his head. Rolling my hips over his length, I observe Brent’s face, connecting us completely in this moment. We’re two open souls with absolutely no barriers—physical or in our hearts.
I arch my back, toss my hair to the side, and slowly lower to take his lips with mine. I press my breasts to Brent’s chest and hold him close. His arms circle around my waist, and he palms my spine in a full embrace.
“I feel all of you,” he whispers into my ear and then kisses my neck. “It’s like you’re all over me.”
“And you’re completely in me.”
Love pours from Brent onto me, into me, and through me, capturing my very essence.
We continue to hold each other while connected and joined. Every movement is a reminder of what we shared, what we were, and what we are. In the present, we are a stronger unit, ready to face any obstacle set forth.
He’s mine. I’m his. There’s no in between.
He kisses my neck and fondles my breast while our hips move together in a rhythm all their own—deeper, harder, faster. It is familiar and meant to be.
“I love you,” I moan.
“Forever,” he grunts. “I’ll never stop.”
“Me either.”
The heat quickly builds, and the blood in my veins pumps with persistence, sending a euphoric high throughout my entire being.
Brent holds me tight as I shatter into pieces. He catches every one.
Pulling me over his length one final time, he thrusts hard, filling me with all that he is.
I want it all…with him.
Twenty-Eight
Comfort, security, contentment and that familiar feeling of home echo through my entire being as we settle into bed. There’s an overwhelming richness in my life and heart.
Tucked into Brent’s side with his arm draped over my waist, his harmonic breathing lulls me to sleep. My lids close, and I relax into a state of completeness, falling into an instant slumber, without a worry in my mind.
~~~*~~~
Squinting, I peer out into the bright horizon. The sun sparkles like diamonds on the clear blue water, piercing my vision.
Is this heaven?
“Come on,” Brent’s voice calls from a
head. “Jump. It’ll be fine. I’ll catch you.”
Bringing my hand to my brow, I shade my face for a clearer view.
“Are you coming?” he asks. “I got you.”
Instantaneously, the whiteness dissipates, revealing richer hues. The surroundings become sharper and more defined. Before me lies the sea. Shades of green and blue deepen their color into the distance. A warm breeze scuttles from the left, swaying the green leaves of the palm trees scattered throughout the landscape. The sky is a perfect pale blue. At the edge of the ocean, the creamy sand beach spreads behind me. The wooden clapboards of the dock are hot under my feet, but it’s not enough to burn.
“Are you coming?” Brent asks again. He’s only a few feet away, resting waist deep in the crystal water.
The sea is so calm that I can see his feet against the bottom of the glass-like ocean.
“I promise to catch you. No need to be scared.”
He’s telling the truth. I feel it in my bones. Every word from his mouth is said in earnest, and there’s no way he would allow any harm to come to me. Strong, prepared, and ready, he’s able to carry any burden thrown his way. Brent taps the surface of the water, creating tiny ripples, and a beautiful smile ignites along his features, warming my heart and bringing peace to my soul.
But his gaze is not intended for me, nor is his beaming expression.
“C’mon, son.” He lifts his arms, extending them outward, next to me. “Daddy will catch you.”
My head drops to the space beside me where a small boy, a toddler, is rocking on his feet from side to side, shifting his weight. He’s nervous and unsure.
“Mommy,” Brent gently says.
My head snaps at his call, knowing the term is intended for me. He’s called me that many times before. It’s familiar and a part of me.
“Tell him it will be okay.”
Squatting down, my entire soul sinks into the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. He’s handsome and perfect with hazel eyes, a strong chin, and topped with a chocolate head of hair. He is full of innocence and purity. He’s his father’s son in every way.
“Daddy will catch you,” I console, holding his soft, chubby fingers. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“I’m scared,” his tiny voice tells me. “It’s scary.”
Over my shoulder, I peek at Brent. He wears a proud expression as he watches me with our child.
“There’s no reason to be frightened. Daddy loves you, and he will make sure you’re safe.” I kiss his cherubic cheek. “Mommy loves you, too.”
I rise with his hand in mine. We walk to the dock’s edge, and he prepares to jump.
“It’s okay.” Brent spreads his arms, ready to catch him. “You can do it.”
The boy releases my hand, bounces in place twice, and then launches himself straight into his father’s waiting arms. His tiny legs cause a splash to erupt when they hit the water, spraying my feet. My eyes dart down to assess the moisture, but a protruding belly obstructs my view.
“You did it!” Brent cheers, holding our little guy in his arms. “I knew you could.”
I rest my hand on my stomach and watch the two most beautiful men in the world kiss each other’s cheeks.
Brent loves that little boy. He loves our little boy.
There’s a nudge at my side, an acute push, but it’s not too painful. My fingers instinctually cover the spot and try to massage away the ache, only to be bumped again from the inside.
“Are you okay?” Brent asks, mildly concerned, as he approaches the dock.
“Yeah.” I sit at the edge and plunge my feet into the tepid water. “She’s just kicking, that’s all.”
Holding our son on his hip, Brent places a hand over mine where our daughter is tapping a message to the outside world against my skin.
“She’s strong,” I say, observing the wonderment on Brent’s face. “And she doesn’t like to be ignored.”
“She must be just like her mother.”
“Or her father.”
The boy kicks, splashing us both, and our family launches into a fit of giggles.
This is my life.
This is my love.
~~~*~~~
My eyes flutter open to the hazy morning light within my apartment. It’s a pure dichotomy from the bright and vivid view in my dream. Given my past experiences with dreams, especially those having to do with Brent and children, I’m surprised at how peaceful I feel right now. There’s no tension or worry, just happiness. My subconscious is sending me messages of where to find everything I need.
I’m listening.
Rolling over, my arm searches for Brent against the warm sheets. He’s not here. My head whips around the apartment as I try not to panic, and I find Brent standing near the closet with his back facing me. He’s nude from the waist down, only wearing a sweater. I openly ogle his bare ass.
“That’s a good look for you,” I call over to him and then clear the thick evening from my throat. “You should wear that more often.”
Dropping his arms, phone in one hand, Brent joins me at the bed and sits on its edge. “Good morning, sleepy,” he says, skimming my bare spine with his fingertips. “You must have been tired.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost eleven.”
I rub face. “Wow. You could have woken me up.”
“Nah, you needed the sleep.”
“How long have you been up?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
I play shove his shoulder. “And you were calling me sleepy?”
“Maybe.” He kisses my cheek. “You want to go and get some breakfast?”
“We can do that.”
Pushing the comforter aside, I emerge from the bed and walk into the dressing room near the bathroom. I slip on a pair of panties and a bra, push my legs into a pair of tight-fitting jeans, and then search through the closet for a top.
Brent slides his arms around my waist, and his hot breath tickles my ear. “Last night…” He kisses my neck. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
I turn within his arms and hook my hands behind his back. “That good, huh?”
“It wasn’t bad.” He lifts his brows. “Was it good for you?”
“Meh,” I sarcastically say. “It’ll do.”
Nudging me to the side, he presses my body flush with the closet door. “Are you saying you didn’t like it? I’d be happy to go for round two right now and make sure we get it right.”
“Oh, I liked it.” I nip at his stubbled jaw. “I might have liked it a lot.”
“Just liked?”
Reaching around, I grab his firm behind. “It was awesome, possibly incredible, mind-blowing, and spectacular.”
“You might be going just a little overboard, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. What if I’m not?”
He leans in, tauntingly grazing my jaw with his teeth. “You know what they say about stroking a guy’s ego, don’t you?”
“What’s that?”
“You can never do it enough.”
Resting the back of my head on the closet door, I hold Brent’s gaze. A playfulness is masking the sincerity of his feelings about our time spent together last night. There’s no doubt that he was moved as much as me.
“I loved it, Brent,” I express, all teasing aside, “everything about it.”
“Me, too. It was perfect.” He kisses the space behind my ear. “Finish getting dressed before I really go for round two. I’m hungry.”
“Okay.” I lick my lower lip. “Maybe after breakfast?”
“Are you trying to put me on your calendar?”
“Is scheduling sex a no-no?”
Dipping his head, Brent worships my neck with his lips and tongue. The small delicate crevices tingle from his devotion, and my pelvis instinctually presses forward.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mumbles against my collarbone before stepping away. Brent drags his hand over his mouth and then ru
bs the back of his neck. “Get dressed, or we’re never going to get out of here.”
Together, we complete the dressing process of our half-naked bodies, brush our teeth, and then put on our outerwear to prepare for the cold morning. Exiting the apartment, we make our way down the hall, descend the steps, and out the door.
“I wanted to ask you something,” Brent says halfway down the block, his breath visible against the thin air.
My stomach leaps at the noted formality in his tone. “What’s that?” I ask, skeptical.
He takes my hand in his as we continue along the residential street. “I got a message from my mother this morning, and she’s going to be in town for business in a few days.”
“Oh, that sounds nice. Are you planning on seeing her?”
“Yes.” His lips tighten. “She wants to have dinner together…”
“And?”
“And I want you to come with me.”
“Sure.” I swing our hands. “I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you,” he says, his tone less strained.
Together, we cross the street and turn the corner into a more commercial area, only a few blocks away from our destination.
“Was that it?” I halt. “You just wanted to ask me to go to dinner with you and your mom?”
“Yeah.” He nods his head at the simplicity. “That’s it.”
“Okay.”
We continue toward the diner, hand in hand, while Brent remains quiet and focused straight ahead. Something is ruminating through his mind. I have a feeling it has to do with his mother. While Brent hasn’t mentioned any tension between them, other than the fact that she’s always working, I assume much of his distaste is associated with his parents’ divorce. It certainly affected him when it happened, and remnants of that hurt might still remain, which is understandable.
No matter the reason, I’m happy to be there for him.
Twenty-Nine
The cab drops Brent and me off at the downtown steakhouse where we agreed to meet his mother. It’s a well-known, high-end restaurant that has garnered a wonderful reputation with praising reviews from critics. I’ve never been here before.
A valet opens the door to the noticeably calm establishment on this weekday evening. We check in with the host stand and drop off our coats. We are led into the dining room where his mother is already seated and waiting for us. As we approach our table, Brent’s mother stands to greet us with her dainty long arms stretched wide. Her jet-black hair is tucked to one side, framing her high cheekbones and piercing green eyes. I never realized how much Brent resembles her until now.
These Days Series: After Tuesday | Forgotten Yesterday | Deciding Tomorrow Page 56