Sisters in White

by Melissa Foster

  “Trying to restrain ourselves,” he said innocently.

  She looked up at the ceiling, remembering that evening and the pull that she felt toward him, which had grown ten times stronger in the weeks that followed. Now, as every fiber of her being ached with desire, that pull was even stronger. She patted the bed beside her, and Blake lay down, resting on his elbow, looking down into her eyes. She touched the bare flesh of his belly. A shiver ran through her and she mimicked his position, hoisting herself up on one elbow, the room spinning around them. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the room stilled, and Blake inched even closer. His black boxer briefs barely contained his desire.

  “You were not wearing those that night. You had on clothes,” she said.

  “Indeed I did.” He gathered her skirt in his hands and brought it up around her waist. “What have we here?” He ran a finger under the lacy string of her thong.

  Danica fell on her back and pulled her arm over her eyes with a groan. “I wore those so I wouldn’t feel unattractive sitting with my insanely beautiful sisters,” she said, only half joking.

  He moved her arm from her face so she had no choice but to look at him. “Do you seriously think they even compare to you?”

  “Pfft. Yeah, right.” She pulled her arm back, but he pushed it away again and turned her face toward his.

  In his most serious voice, which to Danica sounded gruff and wildly sexy, he said, “I have yet to meet a woman who could hold a candle to not only your exquisite beauty, but your honesty.” He kissed her cheek. “Your intelligence.” He kissed her forehead. “Your laugh.” Another warm kiss landed on her nose. “Your sense of responsibility.” His lips met her other cheek. “Or your passion.” He took her chin in his hand and turned her face toward his as she leaned up and met him in a long, deep, heart-thrilling kiss.

  “Or my childlike need for compliments?” She laughed, pushing him onto his back and straddling his body. Blake was almost always the dominant one in their lovemaking, and this new position sent a rush of control through her. She whipped off her shirt and tossed it aside, then wrapped her hands in his hair and leaned forward, her hair curtaining their faces. “Tell me,” she said in a throaty voice she did not recognize.

  “Oh, you want to play, do you?” He grabbed her upper arms. Tight. And began to lift her off his body.

  She felt so light in his arms, and her drunken state slowed her reactions.

  “Uh-huh.” Somehow she managed to wiggle free from his grasp and trap his arms beneath her knees. “I do want to play.” So this is what men like? Having control made her feel stronger, riskier. Yes, I want to play! I do!

  “Careful now,” he said as she dug her knees into his arms.

  “Tell me,” she repeated.

  Blake closed his eyes. “Kiss me.”

  “Uh-uh.” She gently pushed his eyelids up. “Look at me.” Once she had his attention, she asked, “Where?”

  He licked his lips, and it took all her restraint not to lean down and taste his wicked little tongue, which had brought her so much pleasure. But tonight was about control—or at least it seemed to be a good ride at the moment—and her inhibitions had yet to arrive, so she was taking full advantage of this loose, unrestrained Danica that had taken over.

  He lowered his eyes toward his groin.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you,” she teased.

  “Kiss my...lips.”

  Chicken. “Not so easy on the flip side, now, is it?” She leaned down and kissed him hard, taking his lower lip between her teeth on the way back up. Feeling him swell beneath her.

  “Tell me.” She took his finger in her mouth and ran her tongue in circles around it, then drew it out slowly. When he didn’t answer, she repeated it again, only this time, she closed her eyes and moaned as she licked the salty taste from his skin.

  “Touch me,” he whispered. “There. Touch me there.”

  With one hand she unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, lowering her chest so her breasts were just out of reach of his mouth. He arched toward her, and she used her hand to caress his forehead, then locked his head down beneath her palm.

  “Where?” she whispered.

  “Touch yourself,” he said.

  Danica blinked. Then blinked again. Was that fair? Could he do that? She was in control, wasn’t she? She never had him touch himself. No, definitely not fair at all, she decided.

  “In your dreams.” She held up one finger and then slid down his body and removed his briefs. He began to sit up, and she scrambled back on top of him, regaining control with a sly smile. With one hand, she held his shoulder down, while she used the other to remove her thong. Now wearing just her skirt, she took his hand in hers and ran her tongue along his palm, up, down, then up again, taking two of his fingers into her mouth and then drawing them out slowly.

  “Touch yourself,” she whispered, sliding sideways, allowing him access to do as she asked. Danica bit her lower lip in response to the shocked look in his eyes. The alcohol fueled her actions as she took his hand, which had stopped midair after she took it from between her lips, and she wrapped his fingers around his hard shaft.

  “Danica,” he pleaded.

  She shook her head, feeling naughtier than she ever had before—and liking it. “Do it,” she said.

  His hand moved up and down, his head fell back, and his eyes fluttered closed. Danica kissed him until his strokes grew harder, faster, and he moaned into her mouth. She pulled away, watching him touch himself.

  “Open your eyes.” She watched him struggle to keep them open, his hand wrapped tight as he arched against his own friction. He reached for her breast and she pulled away, as if she were being driven by someone other than herself.

  She heard herself say, “No. Watch me,” as she touched herself.

  His eyes dimmed with desire. “Danica,” he called out, reaching for her hot flesh. He covered her hand with his and rubbed her until she was ready to explode.

  Damn you. He’d taken control and Danica was set to take it back. She grabbed his arms and pushed them against the mattress, sliding onto his shaft fast and hard.

  He gasped a sharp breath, then groaned as she clenched and bucked atop of him, taking what she needed—what she wanted—and making him wait for his.

  She slowed her pace as he grabbed her ass and worked her up and down to his own rhythm. She forced his hands off and trapped them again beneath her knees. He’d unleashed a seductress that she hadn’t known existed.

  “You’re killing me,” he said.

  “This was your game. I’m just playing along.” Feeling empowered and oh, so sexy, she ran her hand through her hair and was shocked that she so easily accepted the sexiness that she felt exuding from her body—a body that she never imagined could be taken to such heights.

  “My game?” he asked through clenched teeth. Hunger and something dangerous mixed in his eyes, sparking a fire in her loins, and she slowed for a beat too long and processed the new, exhilarating emotions. In the space of a breath, he flipped her over onto her back and thrust into her.

  She clawed at his shoulders, desperately wanting more of him. To hell with control.

  He bent her legs at the knees and trapped them against his chest, driving deeper, harder. “I’m not a good loser,” he teased.

  “Win, baby, win,” she coaxed as he took them both up and over the edge of ecstasy.

  Chapter Twelve

  No matter how much Danica tried to will it away, Saturday arrived. She rolled over, turning her back to the glorious sun streaming through the curtains. Her head pounded, and her mouth felt like she’d swallowed cotton. She covered her head with a pillow to drown out the constant hum of the air conditioner.

  “Good morning, dirty girl.”

  Her heart skipped a beat as the night before came rushing back to her in foggy flashes. Tell me. Touch yourself. “Oh God,” she groaned, pressing the pillow against her face. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

  She felt the bed
sink as Blake sat beside her. What was he doing up already?

  “You can come out now. I won’t bite,” he teased.

  Danica lay perfectly still. She couldn’t show her face, not after what she’d done with that beautiful man. Maybe she could hold her breath and die. Right here and now. He must think I’m a tramp. A slut. A trollop!

  She felt his hand on her hip, and she was struck with another worry. She peeked beneath the sheet. Yup. Buck naked. Ugh! College memories of the walk of shame came to mind. Not that she’d have been caught dead taking that lonely walk out of the fraternity houses, but her friends had, and one friend in particular walked home with nothing more than two well-placed paper plates. Please, God, kill me now.

  He lifted the pillow from her face, and she clenched her eyes shut.

  The bed moved, and she knew Blake was shaking his head. She felt his face draw near, his freshly shaven cheek against her own. “Our love life never leaves this room. I adore you, babe. You have my word, and if you can’t take my word, then you’re with the wrong man.”

  His whisper was the warm coaxing, his promise the drive that she needed to open her eyes. She was met with the most adoring gaze. Blake stroked her hair with tenderness and love.

  “My intent is to never hurt you, and that means respecting our privacy, your needs, and our love. And I will do everything within my power to make sure that I keep that promise.”

  “Thank you” were the only words that she could push past her swollen heart.

  Blake tucked the sheet beneath her arms and said, “Sit up, babe. Now that you’re covered, no need to be embarrassed.”

  “How do you know me so well?”

  “Because I love you, and when you love someone, you notice them. Everything about them.” He handed her a glass of water and two aspirin.

  “You’re a godsend.” She swallowed the pills and relished in the icy cold water as it streamed down her throat. “I feel like such a different person around you, here, at night.”

  He shook his head. “You’re the same beautiful almost-wife as you’ve always been. You’re just beginning to trust me. To trust us, and it makes you even more beautiful.” He took the glass and set it on the bedside table. “Danica, there is nothing you could do—short of sleeping with another man—that would make me think any less of you.”

  “Everyone says that.” She fiddled with the edge of the sheet. “Look at my parents; look at yours. There are no guarantees in relationships. No one gets married thinking that they’ll one day break up. Everyone dreams of the happily ever after.”

  “We’re not everyone.”

  “That’s so cliché.”

  Blake kissed her forehead. “What would you tell Kaylie right now?”

  “Everything you just told me,” she admitted. “Wipe that grin off your face.”

  He grabbed her ribs, and she rolled over in a fit of giggles.

  “Ow, ow, my head.”

  “Okay.” He sighed. “You have my empathy. Now, come on. Your mom will be here in half an hour.”

  Danica bolted out of bed, forgetting the sheet. She covered herself with her arms and frantically ran into the bathroom. “Half an hour? What time is it?” she called from the shower.

  “Twelve thirty.”

  “Twelve thirty! Oh my God. I missed breakfast? What did my father say? How could you let me sleep?”

  “Kaylie and Lacy didn’t make it either.”

  She showered faster than she ever had before and came out of the bathroom with her hair wrapped in a towel and another towel wrapped around her body.

  “Neither one? God, we must have really been hammered.”

  She picked through her clothes and quickly dressed in shorts and a tank top. On her way back to the bathroom, she noticed her thong hanging from the light on the wall.

  Blake followed her eyes and laughed. “My sexy, hot girlfriend got a little carried away last night.”

  “Jesus!” she muttered. She snagged the thong and threw it into the pile of dirty laundry. “Please look for other articles of clothing that might out us as acrobatic sex freaks.” Who knew that her walk of shame would cover only the span of her hotel bed to the bathroom?

  Blake laughed heartily as she flipped her head upside down and dried her hair. Danica silently replayed every instance she could remember from the night before. She tucked the lusty love snippets away in the secret files in her brain where she kept dirty thoughts of things she’d never have, like sex toys and Hugh Jackman.

  Kaylie, Lacy, and Danica sat together on a sofa in the lobby, each looking a little greener than the next, while Chaz, Blake, Don, and Madeline chatted just inside the doors.

  “So, you don’t hate me?” Lacy asked.

  Kaylie shook her head. “Shh.”

  “I swear a monkey played the drums in my head last night,” Danica said, rubbing her temple.

  “I passed out cold when we got home.” Kaylie leaned her head back.

  “I stayed up all night thinking of Dane’s junk.”

  Danica and Kaylie shot straight up. “What?” they asked in unison.

  “Didn’t you see it?” Lacy asked as if she were asking about baskets or berries. “I mean, my God, how could you miss it? It was like a...a python in his trunks.”

  Silence.

  The three of them burst into giggles seconds later. Kaylie grabbed Lacy’s arm as she bent over, gasping for breath between laughs, tears streaming from her eyes. Lacy threw her head back and howled, as they both reached for Danica to keep them upright.

  “Ow, ow, ow,” Danica complained.

  “Shh.” Kaylie laid her head back again.

  “Damn that hurts.” Lacy closed her eyes, folding her hands neatly in her lap.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Helen Snow arrived in a flurry of activity, with Lexi and Trevor chattering in their two- and three-word sentences about their trip, each trying to outshout the other.

  “Mommy! Daddy!” they yelled.

  Chaz intercepted them before they reached Kaylie and swept Trevor and Alexandra into his arms. “Trev, Lex, how are my beautiful babies?”

  “We, we, we...” Trevor stuttered.

  Lexi took over, as she almost always did. “We ride big plane!”

  “You did!”

  Kaylie mouthed, Thank you, to Chaz and kissed her toddler’s soft cheeks. “I missed you so much!” She leaned in to kiss her mother’s cheek.

  It was hard for Danica to believe that Kaylie had spent so much time angry at their mother, thinking she was weak for staying with her father when she’d known he was cheating on her. But now that Kaylie had experienced motherhood, she knew Kaylie would do just about anything for her babies, and that experience had brought an understanding to their relationship.

  “Thanks for taking such good care of them, Mom,” Kaylie said.

  When the twins were born, their mother had just begun dating again, and she’d joined a gym and dyed her hair red. Danica was happy to see the return of her mother’s buttery blond shade. Helen looked around nervously, and Danica came to her side.

  “He and Madeline went to grab some coffee.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t—”

  “Yes, you were. It’s okay, Mom. You haven’t seen him since he moved away either. It’s been a long time.”

  Lacy stood by the sofa, her hands clasped before her, her conservative white shorts and button-down blouse perfectly pressed. Only her eyes held the remnant of the evening before and the fear of the moment.

  Danica watched the connection take hold between her mother and Lacy. She took her mother’s hand.

  “Oh my goodness. She’s gorgeous,” her mother said.

  “Do you want to meet Lacy, Mom?”

  “Yes, I do. Very much.”

  The walk felt a million miles long, and Danica wanted to ask her mother what she was feeling, what she was thinking, but she wouldn’t dare. Kaylie took her mother’s other hand and joined them as they approached Lacy.

  Lacy dropped h
er eyes, and Kaylie did something that stole Danica’s heart right out of her chest. She went to Lacy’s side and took Lacy’s hand. The four of them stood with their hands interlaced and their lives intertwined. Linked by one man. A world of hurt and a world of wonder lay within the small circle of women.

  “Mom, this is Lacy. Lacy Snow. Our sister.” Kaylie looked at Lacy and beamed.

  Danica watched the strength pass from Kaylie to Lacy, and a heartbeat later, from Lacy to her mother.

  “It is such a pleasure to meet you, Lacy. I have thought of you often.”

  The grace exuding from her mother gave Danica chills. Time stood still as Danica took in this new family of hers. At some point, Danica wasn’t sure exactly when, Blake and Chaz joined them, and she became aware of Lexi and Trevor toddling around their legs. Lexi’s thin blond curls bounced with each happy step, and Trevor’s promise-blue eyes danced with delight. Mommy! Daddy!

  Blake was the first to see their father and Madeline enter the lobby, and Danica followed his fading, then quickly righted, smile toward the man who was responsible for this new union and the woman who Danica knew from the longing in her eyes wanted to be there, too.

  “Mom.” Worry tethered Danica’s voice as her mother turned toward the approaching couple, her brows drawn together, a hardening in her eyes. A sea of emotion swam through those little motions: sadness, longing, anger, shame. Finally, as the wrinkles in her brow faded and she dropped Danica’s hand, the underlying strength that Danica always knew existed appeared, erasing the shame and anger. Kicking the sadness to the curb.

  “Don.” Her mother took a step forward. “Madeline,” she said curtly with a brief nod.

  Madeline managed a cordial smile. “Helen, you look lovely.”

  “Yes, I do. Thank you.”

  Wow, Mom.

  Her father stood silently taking in the wife he’d tossed aside. There was no strength in the man who had torn their family apart. Madeline put her hand on the small of his back and gave him a little tap.

  “How—how are you, Helen?” he asked.

  Danica had seen a much humbler man in her father over the last few days, and it was a bit unsettling against the memory of the confident father who’d raised her.