by Anthology
“You want us to move in together?”
“Yes.”
“Take over Luc’s lease?”
“Yes.”
“And you want me to decide—right now.”
My fingers clutched my hair. “I know it’s fast, Jenny, but it works so well. It all lines up.”
“So, we’d save money, you wouldn’t have to sell your car, and you’d stay in the building?”
“Yes.” I nodded emphatically.
She’d been shocked when I told her my original plan once I knew I couldn’t get as much for my car as I’d hoped. I could also see she disliked the idea of me moving as much as I did. I also knew she was surprised at the solution I offered. I hated doing it, over the phone, but Luc had to have an answer soon. If I told him no, he needed to find someone else.
I didn’t want to tell him no.
“So, this is a convenience, Connor? We’d be roomies?”
I gaped at her.
That was what she thought?
Fuck sake, of course she did. I called her up unexpectedly, told her I had a great apartment we could share, then expounded on the fact of all the money we would save. I made it sound like a currency thing. Not one word about the fact if I still had to sell my car and take a part-time job for it to happen, I wanted to live with her.
I sat back and smiled into the screen.
“Jenny, Wren, listen to me. Listen well. Do you know why moving in together would be such a great thing?”
“You can keep your car?”
“No. I don’t care about the damned car. It’s so great because it means I don’t have to leave you. The thought of being far away from you was killing me.” I ran a hand over my face, scrubbing my cheeks roughly. “It means that every morning I can wake up with you. The last thing I will see every night is your sweet face. When I get home, I know you’ll be there. I want that. More than anything.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And while getting to keep my car is a bonus, getting you—living with you, is my dream.” I paused, and closed my eyes for a moment. “I love you, Jenny. And I want this for us.”
“It’s so fast.”
I sighed. “I know, and if you don’t want it—one hundred percent want it—I understand. I still love you and I hope one day I get my dream.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’ll wait, Jenny. I’ll wait for you.” Then I winked at her, so she knew it was okay. I was asking too much of her, expecting an answer immediately to a decision so large. “You’ll just have to get used to being at my beck and call.” I chuckled. “Or the bus.”
I could see the tears on her cheeks. I wanted to kiss them away.
“Connor?”
I traced the screen with my finger, wishing she were in front of me for real. “Yeah, Wren?”
“I want it, too.”
***
I paced around, constantly glancing at my watch. Jenny would be home soon.
Our home.
I had done it. I took over Luc’s lease, Joe had taken my apartment, and, within a day, management had a new tenant for Jenny’s place, who would move in next week. With the help of my fellow officers and some firefighter friends, we had moved both apartments in the space of two evenings. Nothing was packed; we simply carried everything from the old apartments into the new one, in one long conga line. I put the furniture in the right rooms, but knew Jenny would rearrange things once she arrived. She would make the space a home for us. For now, our dishes, pans, and linens were mingled together in the various cupboards, and I grinned every time I opened a door and saw them.
Jenny had no idea the entire move had happened. She thought we would be doing it when she got home, and I kept that information to myself. However, she wouldn’t have to do a thing except settle into her new place—our new place.
I had dinner in the oven and plenty of bottles of wine in the refrigerator. I fully expected lots of tipsy comments and hot sex as we celebrated and broke in every new room this weekend. Sex with Jenny was always hot.
I was looking forward to that.
My phone buzzed.
Downstairs the screen read.
I smiled at Jackey’s message. She was in on the surprise.
The biggest grin split my face as I went down the hall to meet Jenny at the elevator. I had missed her.
And I was excited she was home.
***
God, her mouth was back on mine, her hands in my hair, tugging and pulling me close as I kissed her deeply. I had missed her so damn much. Missed us. With a groan, I crushed her to my chest, kissing her with everything I had in me. When I finally released her, it was only to bury my face into her neck and breathe her in.
“I missed you so much,” she whispered.
“I missed you too, Wren.”
She giggled, the sweet sound filling my ears. “You must have. You barely let the elevator doors open.”
I grinned. I hadn’t. As soon as I saw her, I had reached in and pulled her into my arms. Two weeks was two weeks too long without her.
My mouth covered hers again, my tongue greedy for more of her taste. I lifted her, groaning as her legs wrapped around my waist. I barely had enough sense left to grab her suitcase with one hand while I held her tightly against me with the other. I stumbled down the hall, refusing to move my mouth off hers or let her down.
She pulled back, gasping for breath. “Connor! You missed your door!”
I laughed and kissed her again. I kept walking until I stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall. I set her back on her feet, pushed open the door, then with a huge grin, scooped her up bridal style, chuckling at her gasp.
“What are you doing?”
I kissed her once more and carried her inside. “This is the door now, Jenny. Our door.”
** Jenny**
I ran my fingers ran over the shiny surface of the stainless-steel appliances in the kitchen. They were so pretty—such nice appliances in this apartment.
I giggled. My new apartment. I giggled again.
The apartment I now lived in with Connor.
Connor.
My Connor.
He was so pretty, too. So excited as he had handed me a large glass of wine and shown me around the new place, pointing out all the things he knew I would like. He surprisedHe surprised me by having all our things already moved in, living together in cupboards and on shelves. Just waiting for me to come back and join them.
Join him.
I took another sip of wine, my hand on the cool surface of the granite. I liked these counters. Connor liked them, too.
I bet he’d like to fuck me on these counters.
I’d like that.
I should go find him and ask.
His arms encircled my waist. His warm breath drifted over my cheek as his lips pulled at my lobe. “No need to look, Wren. I’m right here.” His warm tongue ran up my neck. “I’ll fuck you anywhere, anytime. Name the place and we are so on.”
I groaned as my head fell back on his shoulder.
How much had I had to drink?
He chuckled. “Enough.” He wrapped his hand around my hair, pulling back my head. “My favorite Jenny is here.” Then his mouth covered mine possessively, his hands sliding under my shirt, up and over my breasts, fondling and pinching my nipples that were hard and aching for his touch. I pressed myself back against him, groaning as his mouth left mine and trailed over to my ear, licking and nipping at the sensitive skin behind it. I could feel him hard and straining against me and I moaned with desire.
God, I wanted him. Now. On the counter, the floor, against the fridge, and anywhere else we could find in the room.
He spun me around. “That’ll do for starters,” he growled in my ear.
I grinned against his lips.
He knew exactly how to get me to open up, in more ways than one.
His hand found the zipper on my jeans. “Fucking right I do. Open for me. Show me how well I know you.”
I
whimpered. I wanted him. I wanted him buried inside me. Oh, God . . . I was aching for him.
“I’ll ease the ache, baby. Promise.”
My shirt disappeared; my jeans pulled down and discarded. A few flicks of his wrists and I was bare for him—throbbing and wet, wanting him. His mouth was possessive and hot as his tongue twisted with mine, his bare chest warm against my body. I gripped his shoulders as he lifted me up onto the edge of the countertop, opening my legs, and in one quick, deep thrust, plunged into me. He started moving, his pace fast, hips swiveling as he pounded me. His arms were like a vise holding me, his head dropped to my shoulder as he panted and whispered in my ear.
Fuck . . . baby . . . yes . . . Jenny. . . mine . . . missed you . . . FUCK. . . there . . . like that . . . yes . . . your legs . . . up . . . tighter, Jenny. . . FUCK!
I wrapped my legs higher, clinging tight as I shuddered and shattered around him, my release burning and tearing through me. I gasped his name as he stilled, his entire body locking down and he gripped me hard, murmuring my name, his voice tender and loving.
We stayed locked together as we gradually returned to reality. I stroked the hair on the back of his head as he nuzzled the damp skin on my neck, his hands gentle and soft. Slowly, he pulled back, his warm blue eyes blinking at me. “Round one.” He grinned.
I cupped his cheek, my fingers tracing the rough stubble on his chin. “Planning round two in here, Connor?”
He leaned forward, his lips brushing mine. “We have an entire apartment to break in. Lots of rounds to go.”
“Our apartment. Ours,” I murmured against his lips.
He smiled. The smile he used only for me. One of love and warmth.
“Ours. Welcome home, Jenny.”
**Connor**
Thank God, it was Friday. In the weeks since Jenny had come home, the days had been long, the nights and weekends too short, and time had flown by as I studied hard. Now, I was off until after the Christmas holidays, and I was looking forward to the break and spending some quality time with Jenny—and inside her.
It didn’t matter how often we made out like teenagers, fucked like rabbits, or made love—it wasn’t enough. I’d never get enough of her. I knew from the day she first smiled at me and let me take her hand, she was it for me. I waited, and when I finally could show her, tell her how I felt, my life changed and only for the better.
My hand closed around the small box in my pocket.
Tonight, I planned to show her exactly how much she had changed it.
***
I sighed in contentment. My head rested on Jenny’s lap, her hand rhythmically stroking through my hair as we sat in the darkness, the only light in the room was the soft glow of the Christmas tree in the corner. I loved those quiet moments with her when it was just the two of us alone. Her eyes were unfocused as she gazed at the tree, a soft smile on her lips as she played with my hair. She sipped her wine, glancing down at me.
“Hey,” she teased, “I thought you were asleep.”
I stroked her cheek with my thumb. “I was watching you, Wren.” I smiled up at her. “You are so pretty, my girl.”
I felt the heat under my hand and grinned. She never failed to react to my words.
“Stop it,” she admonished, setting down her glass.
I pulled her face down, meeting her partway, nuzzling her lips with mine. She tasted of wine, the chocolate she was nibbling, and Jenny. Perfect. Lazily, our tongues met as her fingers buried themselves into my hair and she whimpered quietly as the kiss deepened. She told me once kissing me was her favorite thing in the world. It was my job to make her happy, so who was I to deny Jenny her favorite thing? Besides, it was my favorite thing, as well. Slowly and thoroughly I explored her, savoring her sweetness. Finally, I tempered the kiss, softening my mouth to indulgent gentle sweeps of my lips before pulling back and smiling at her.
Now this, this was my favorite look for Jenny. Her cheeks lightly flushed, lips swollen, hair mussed up from my hands—and the look in her eyes. Love, want, and desire, and she directed them all at me—always for me. I knew mine reflected the same back at her. She was it for me.
Abruptly, I sat up and pulled Jenny onto my lap, cupping her face. “I love you.”
Her hand covered mine. “I love you, too.” She frowned at the expression on my face. “Connor, what is it? What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is right. You make everything right, Wren.” I kissed her. “You always make everything so right.”
Her expression was soft as she gazed at me.
I drew in a deep breath. “I want you to make it right . . .” I swallowed. “For the rest of our lives.”
“Connor—” she breathed.
“I know we’ve only been together a short time and living together for a few weeks. But, baby, you’re it for me. I know it. I feel it. I don’t ever want to be without you.”
“You won’t be.”
I lifted her hand and kissed the palm, pressing the small box into it. “Marry me, Jenny. Make me the happiest man on earth and say yes.”
A tiny sound escaped her mouth as she gazed in shock at the box. Her tear-filled eyes met mine.
“Please,” I murmured. “I need to know I have you forever. I want to wake up to you every morning and know you’re here, at the end of the day, waiting for me.” I kissed her. “I want your smiles and laughter. I want all those thoughts you can’t keep inside your head. I want to be there for you when you need me. I want a life with you.” I paused and cupped her face. “Please be mine.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
I took the box and opened it for her, removing the ring from its velvet bed. “It was my grandmother’s,” I explained as I slipped it on her finger. “My mom gave it to me to give to you.”
“It’s so beautiful.”
“So are you.”
I wiped the tears from her cheek and sealed our engagement with a kiss to her ring then to her lips. She wound her arms around my neck, and I pulled her against me. Standing, I lifted her and carried her to our room. Laying her on the bed, I smiled at her as I tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
“I love you, Wren.”
She opened her arms, pulling me down to her. “I love you, Connor.”
I kissed her with all I had and held her close.
I would be eternally grateful for the day she mistook my door for hers.
Her bad day changed my life for the better.
Because she became mine, forever.
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SAVAGE HOPE
By Sam JD Hunt
“I must be a mermaid…I have no fear of depths
and a great fear of shallow living.” ― Anaïs Nin
Floating in the cerulean sea on my makeshift raft, the sun burning a hole into me like the time I’d had a lump removed, I thought back to Daniel’s words: “Stop trying, Margaret, you’re wasting your time.”
Margaret. I’d always hated my given name. I grew up with a class full of cool names: Dawn, Jennifer, Kimberly, and the much-coveted Heather. But no, my mother decided to name me after a beloved aunt, and I was forever saddled with Margaret. I’d tried to make the much cooler nickname Margo stick, but it just never did.
But that was then; now I was floating in hell. The heat of the sun brought my jumbled thoughts back to my current situation. Something I could only blame on myself. We’d gone to Tah
iti in the first place because of me. I thought a luxurious healing spa on a remote island was the answer for me, for us. I’d read an article in Cosmo at the nail salon while getting a pedicure about this special fertility spa, La Mar. Daniel didn’t want to go; I had to blackmail him to get him there. I threatened to reveal his affair to his parents if he didn’t give me this one last chance, if he didn’t fight for us.
For twenty years, I’d struggled to conceive. I’d gotten pregnant three times, only to feel the searing burn of having those babies fall from my empty womb, the ugly word fetus I just couldn’t bear to use. Daniel was hopeful, loving each time, only to draw further and further away from me as he lost hope of ever having the beloved son he craved.
Before my third miscarriage, horrifically at just past the four-month mark, the point that you announce it publicly, I found out Daniel was having an affair with my cousin, Corinne. Affair. Such a nice sounding word for such a vile, cancerous act.
As I continued to drift in the punishing, skin-searing sunlight without relief, my thoughts drifting to the blood, the mess, the screams of losing a baby. Daniel’s words, “I’m done trying,” echoed in my muddled head.
By the time I dragged Daniel to Tahiti, my marriage was in shambles. My life was in shambles. The year prior, I’d left a career I used to love. I was a labor and delivery nurse, but could no longer bear the anguish of seeing fresh new babies and their beaming parents only to know I’d never have what they did. Without my job, I was lost, drifting through life with one focus—save my marriage, and do it by having a baby. The child, the son hopefully, that my handsome, perfect doctor husband wanted more than anything.
And I’d do anything to make that baby. The fertility drug I was on caused weight gain, and I was a curvy girl to start with. Okay, I’ll be honest; I was overweight to start with. I’d always been heavier, big-boned my mother would say, but as my marriage crumbled, I turned to cake. I’d stop by the bakery every few days to pick up a spongy, buttery, yellow cake with buttercream icing. I indulged in this habit so frequently that I had to start rotating bakeries, like an alcoholic not wanting to go to the same liquor store too often.