Forever Yours (Forever Series)

by Kar, Alla

  My gut twists thinking about it. Layla guides me toward the coffin. When I look down, I see the man that raised Layla without a second thought. Layla is crying but no sound leaves her mouth. That’s all she’s done since it happened. Cry. I hold her every night in the guest house, close to me. Protecting her from the world. I just wish I could protect her from her hurt. I’d take every ounce of her pain and transfer it to my body, so she could be at ease. But, I can’t do that. So, I hold her. Hold her so tight that she can never let go. Because I’m the person that is going to take care of her from now on. I’m the person that’s going to love her recklessly.

  Once they lower him into the ground, Layla has stopped crying. She places a plastic horse on top and steps away. Her grandmother is being taken back to her younger sister’s house afterwards. She refuses to go back to the house. She doesn’t want to live there anymore.

  I can’t blame her for not wanting to go. I can’t even blame her for leaving her things. She says that house will never be the same without Dan. And I believe her. One hundred percent. I think sometimes souls linger, and that would be tremendously hard for Sarah to stay, being around all of his things, alone.

  We drive in silence on the way back to the guest house. Everyone immobile, staring out the window. Seth’s funeral was held the day before. We didn’t attend but Layla insisted we send flowers. They were burning in our front yard this morning. I’m sure it was his mother, or maybe he has siblings. I don’t know and, frankly, as terrible as this sounds, I don’t care. I don’t blame the hostility and anger. I would be angry too. Fuck, I’m angry now. But all I can do is love Layla endlessly. Love her to the fucking moon and back.

  With the Hummer packed down with our things, Layla stares at the burned house, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

  “You want to stay?” I ask.

  Layla turns to face me. Her expression hardens. “No. I want to leave this place. Only come back to visit my grandma. My aunt Georgia said she would keep the house up and feed the horses.”

  Trailing a finger down her neck, she shivers. “Yes, I know it’ll be taken care of. But, do you want to stay here Layla?”

  Her blue eyes coat over with tears and she shakes her head fiercely back and forth. “No!” she snaps. “I want to be with you. Forever.”

  “I could be here, Layla. We could move to be closer to your grandma–,”“No,” she snaps again. “It’s time for me to move on. God has given me the strength to leave. God has given me the strength to start my life anew. I’m going back to Ohio. I’m going to marry you. We’re going to have lots of kids, and we’re going to love each other more than we’ve ever loved anyone.”

  Nodding, I take her in my arms and hold her tight to my chest. “Then let’s go.”

  ***

  Layla

  Taylor offers to lock up for me. So, I sit outside on the steps, looking out over the field at the horses. Someone sits beside me, but I keep still.

  “I’m so sorry this happened,” Damon says, pulling me close to his side. His arm wraps around my shoulder and I ease into his touch. “You didn’t deserve this. And neither did Dan.”

  “We never deserve this kind of pain, Damon. But, we’ll always have to endure it,” I whisper.

  He stays quiet for a long time before turning me to face him. “Layla, I’m sorry I went back and told Dan everything. I’m sorry I’ve been a pain in the ass. And I’m sorry that we won’t end up together.” He grabs my chin. “As much as it pains me, I know you’re where you’re supposed to be. With Taylor. As much as it hurts to see someone else make you happy, I know you’re where you need to be. I love you, Layla James. I always have and I probably will always have something special for you, but I’m not the man that’s supposed to make you happy for the rest of your life. We all know it. Taylor is that man.”

  Tears stream down my face and I press my cheek against Damon’s. “I love you, too, Damon. Thank you for everything.”

  He nods into the crook of my neck. “It’s going to be okay, Layla.”

  I sniffle. And for the first time ever, I know it really is going to be okay.

  Epilogue

  Layla

  “You look beautiful,” I hear from behind me. Taylor’s kiss buzzes along the back of my neck, making the hair on my arms stand up. “This dress looks fucking amazing on you,” he coos.

  I glance at him in the mirror in front of me. The white cotton dress my mother wore to her own small wedding looks great. It’s small against my waist, and flares out to my knees. My grandma had been so excited to give it to me, and I’m happy she did. The nude wedges Taylor bought me go perfectly against the soft color. I grab my makeup bag and brush my foundation and powder onto my face. Taylor’s gray eyes watch me from the mirror. His cocky grin is back, and it still makes my heart thump wildly against my ribcage. I run my blush brush over my cheeks carefully and stare at Taylor as I do.

  He growls and presses me against the counter. “You don’t need any of that to be beautiful, you know that? None. Nothing. Just the way you are,” he whispers, skimming his lips down the angle of my neck. “I’m anxious over here.”

  Anxious isn’t the word. Taylor’s been pacing back and forth all morning. Pulling his hair and then brushing it straight right afterwards.

  “If you don’t stop smashing my dress, and making me sweat, I’m going to have to take off my clothes, then put them back on again after I calm you down.”

  He growls, pulling my ass against his front. “You nervous?” he whispers.

  I shake my head. “No,” I whisper, brushing my eye shadow on. I’m not nervous at all. I thought I would be. I thought I’d be puking into the toilet right about now. But, I’m not. I feel refreshed. I feel the best I have in months.

  It’s March now. Almost three months since our trip to Dallas. Three months since we lowered my grandpa into the ground. My heart tightens thinking about him. Thinking about the life he still had to live. The pain doesn’t ever completely stop, it just gets less and less each day. Like my parents, I’ll never forget him. His big, blue eyes. The old overalls. The work boots. Each touch. Hug. Kiss. Laugh. They’re always there. Always in my heart.

  Taylor leans his head against my shoulder and kisses the hollow place beneath my ear. His crisp, black shirt is tight to his arms. The piercing in his eye has been taken out. I run my hand against the hole and laugh. It’s strange seeing him clean-shaven. But, I kind of like it. “Are you?” I ask.

  Taylor’s gray eyes lift to lock with mine. A smile widens on his lips. The same smile that lured me into his apartment that night. The same smile that drove me to get half-naked with him the first night I met him. The same smile I plan to look at for the rest of my life. “I’m ready,” is all he says.

  Mittens’ soft fur rubs against my leg and I glance down. Taylor grumbles. “Damn cat always trying to cock-block me,” he whispers.

  I laugh and scratch her head before putting on my last coat of mascara. I examine myself in the mirror of Taylor’s apartment. My apartment. Our apartment. Butterflies go crazy in my stomach. My blond hair falls in ringlets to my breasts. My skin tanned and smooth underneath my mother’s old dress. My blue eyes are bright today. Like I remembered my mother’s being.

  “Are you ready?” Taylor whispers against my neck.

  I nod and cover his arms with my own. We stare at each other in the mirror for only a few minutes but it feels like hours. Nipping at my jaw, Taylor pulls back, staring down at me. Gray eyes soft and smiling. He offers me his hand. “Let’s go.”

  No one knows where we’re going. Cindy’s been blowing up my phone all morning. Then Brett started in on Taylor. We look at each other and laugh. No one is going to interrupt this morning. Nothing will ever come between us again.

  The courthouse is practically empty when we pull up. It’s eight o’clock Friday morning. The doors are opened by a policeman who searches us before we walk inside. We stop in front of the door and stare at each other.

 
“No take backs,” Taylor says, rubbing his rough fingers against my knuckles.

  “Never,” I whisper breathlessly up at him.

  He winks and my bones dissolve into goo. Taylor opens the door for me. I sit in the uncomfortable chair and wait while Taylor takes care of the documents at the desk. We both sign the papers. My feet tapping against the tile is the only noise besides fingers clacking against a keyboard. A heavy-set man with big brown eyes, and a robe rushes through the door.

  “Are you Taylor Jacks and Layla James?” he asks, looking down at his clipboard.

  Taylor stands and grabs my hands. His thumb caresses my finger. “That’s us. Are we ready?”

  The preacher nods. “Follow me this way.”

  My heart jackhammers against my chest. The weight of the world is crashing down on me. We are ushered into a small room. “Are your witnesses here?” he asks, looking at us with a smiling face.

  I furrow my brow. Shit, I didn’t even think about that. I glance up at Taylor but he is already staring down at me, smiling. “Yes.”

  I don’t have time to ask before Damon steps into the little room. His green eyes light up when he sees me. “You look beautiful, Layla.” He crosses the room and takes me in his hard arms. I hug him back. Taylor and Damon’s relationship has taken a drastic turn since Dallas. At first, I didn’t think they would ever get along. But now … they’re friends. “You look just like your mom,” he says, caressing my cheek with his thumbs.

  I stare up at him teary-eyed. Henry’s kid. The kid I grew up with, the kid that took care of me. That went out of his way to keep me safe. But, now, he isn’t a kid. He’s a man. A man that deserves to have a woman love him so fiercely. If he takes care of his wife as madly as he took care of me, she is one fucking lucky lady. And I love him for being here for me.

  Taylor clears his throat and raises an eyebrow at Damon. A clear warning. Damon chuckles and kisses my cheek. “I love you, Layla girl.”

  I grab his hand and hold it to my chest, right above my mother’s necklace. “I love you too.”

  Taylor grumbles underneath his breath and we both laugh. “Am I going to be able to marry my girl today, Damon, or you going to try and take her away again?”

  Damon rolls his eyes and turns toward Taylor. Before I can blink they’re hugging. A bro hug, but it’s so much progress I want to cry.

  Taylor turns toward me and grabs my hand. The preacher asks what kind of ceremony we want and we choose Christian. Taylor stares are me as the preacher begins talking. His upper lip is quivering and his eyes are drenched in tears. We say our vows and Taylor places my ring on my finger. Then I slide his plain, silver ring on his hand. He refused to wear anything with diamonds. It wasn’t manly enough. I almost snort thinking about it but Taylor is holding my gaze so intensely, I can’t look away.

  “You may now kiss your bride,” the preacher says. Taylor growls and crushes me against his body. I’m inflamed with heat. Knowing this man crushing my lips with his is now my husband. Taylor Jacks. The campus fighter. The man on campus is married … to me. I feel like a fifteen-year-old girl. We’re fucking married. Married! I want to dance I’m so happy.

  Taylor grabs me underneath my knees and picks me up in his arms. The preacher is laughing when we stroll out of the room. Damon waves at me over Taylor’s shoulder and I blow him a kiss. Tears stream down both of our faces and I know that there isn’t a better feeling in the world.

  Taylor is giddy on the way home. He hasn’t let go of my hand. Has barely stopped looking at me. It’s scary since he’s driving but he seems to have it under control. When we pull into the parking lot, Taylor shoots out and picks me up again. I don’t say anything because I know this is Taylor. Taylor is domineering, hardheaded and a badass. I married him because I love this about him. I love to feel protected and loved. I love him.

  I expect him to head straight toward the bedroom but he doesn’t. He pushes Mittens’ out of the way with his foot and carries me into the house. He looks around us, a smile on his face. This is our place. A place where we’ll hold each other for hours. A place I love.

  He starts walking and he passes the bedroom to go straight toward the game room. When he places me down it’s on top of the pool table. I lift an eyebrow and stare at him. “What are we doing?” I ask breathless. My body is shaking with anticipation.

  Taylor smiles down at me. He’s happy. Completely and utterly happy. “First,” he slides off my shoes. “I need to tell you to pack. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

  What? “Taylor? What are you talking about? We have school and work,” he silences me with his lips. Biting and pulling with his teeth. God, that shut me up.

  “I’ve taken care of all of it, Layla. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. Just pack for warm weather. Think water. Tropical.”

  Tropical? Holy Hell, where are we going? Now, I’m shaking with excitement. “Now,” he says, ripping his shirt from his chest. I ogle each hard muscle like it’s the first time I’ve seen him naked. “I’m going to love you, Layla. Love you on the pool table. The first place I knew I loved you. Deep down, I desired it. I wanted to want you. But when you moaned my name, my entire body engulfed in flames. When you left me here naked and pining for you, I knew you would be the girl I married. The woman that I wanted to love every single day of my life. You,” he presses a kiss to my lips, “are fucking mine. Forever. And I’m forever yours.”

  Sliding his hands up my thighs, he strokes me. “You love me, Layla?” Those gray eyes are intense, that strong jaw clenched tight, like he is dying to know my answer.

  “Always. Forever.”

  He nods, lowers his lips to mine and kisses me senseless. When he pulls back he keeps his lips against mine as he whispers, “Now, open those legs, baby. I’m going to show you what you missed that first night.”

  Biting my lip, I grab the nape of his neck and pull his mouth closer. “Baby, you’ll never miss another night again.”

  He lifts a brow. “I’m holding you to that, hustler. Now, let me take care of you. Forever.”

  One for the road …

  Jamaica. Fucking, Jamaica. I’m in Jamaica! The hotel is breathtaking. I swear I lose all rational thought as soon as I walk in. A huge waterfall is right in the middle of the main lobby. My wonder is short-lived because Taylor is dragging me to the elevators before I have a chance to get a good look.

  “Rip my arm off, Tay,” I say, as the elevator doors slide shut. He narrows his eyes and grabs my waist, hauling me closer to him. His manly scent slams against my nose, making my toes curl. We had one amazing night at home and then we spent the next day on a plane, where I didn’t find out where we were going until it came over the intercom. Taylor even hid our plane tickets from me. Bastard.

  “Now, why would I rip that arm off? I need it to tie you to the bed,” he whispers, trailing a kiss down my jaw, nipping at my ear.

  The elevators doors slide open and a man walks in. His eyes linger on me, and I feel Taylor’s finger lace through mine. The old man quickly averts his gaze to the floor. “You ready to be loved, baby,” Taylor whispers into my ear, but it’s loud enough for the man next to me to stiffen. “The things I’m going to do to that mouth. Those hips. Those breasts.” I’m panting by the time our elevator dings. Taylor chuckles in my ear and drags me out and into a long hallway.

  We stop in front of room 603. My fingers tap nervously against my thighs as Taylor unlocks the door and swings it open. It’s fucking ginormous! I squeal like a girl and run inside. It’s ten times bigger than Taylor’s apartment and that’s saying a lot. A tray of food is in the middle of the room. Strawberries. Blueberries. Whipped cream. Then I see the bed. It’s bigger than a king size and the white comforter looks as soft as cotton. I surge toward it but Taylor’s laugh stops me in my tracks.

  “Taylor,” I say breathless, looking out at the ocean from our window. “This must have cost a fucking fortune,” I say.

  Taylor locks the door and I turn around t
o stare at him. He is smiling, wildly. He leans against the hallway wall, and undresses me with his eyes. His tight shirt stretches against each muscle. His tattoos look like they may break from the width of his arms. The jeans he’s wearing are low and show just how excited he is to be here with me. To be my husband.

  “Why don’t you change into that dress?” he whispers. The distance is killing me, but I nod. I grab the small dress Taylor picked out and rush toward the bathroom. The tub is huge. Candles line the side. A sweet scent of lavender in the air. I feel so small standing in this monstrosity.

  My reflection catches my attention. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes excited. I haven’t felt like this in ages. I scrub all remnants of my makeup off and strip down into my red, lacey bra and panties. The dress Taylor bought me is tight. It’s not really a dress but more a nightgown. It curls over my curves, showing the edge of my ass that is tightly covered by my skimpy underwear. I can’t wait to see Taylor’s face, but I’m nervous.

  We’ve had each other more times than I can count, but this is our honeymoon. I rub lotion over my freshly shaven legs and then my arms, until I smell good enough to eat.

  My fingers latch onto the knob and I slowly open the bathroom door. Taylor is waiting for me on the bed. His head is resting against the large, wooden headboard. He isn’t wearing a shirt. I travel down each ridge of his stomach with my eyes. The muscles coil underneath that tanned skin. I want to lick and bite him all over.

  A pair of pajama bottoms are low on his hips. His tattoo disappearing beneath the fabric. “You look good enough to eat, hustler,” his voice is gruff. Rough. It caresses every nerve ending in my body. He curls two fingers at me, requesting I make the short distance to the bed.

  I do, slowly, shaking with want–need–I walk toward him. He hasn’t looked away from my eyes, daring me to look down at his body. I don’t. I can’t look away from the steel gray eyes that are already fucking me over and over.