All the Way

by Proby, Kristen

  I can’t keep my hips from moving faster, pushing harder, taking this moment from soft and quiet to fast and urgent, chasing the incredible orgasm that I can feel building in both of us.

  Finally, London’s whole body trembles and she cries out as she lets go, riding the waves of lust and desire, and I happily go over with her.

  I gingerly pull out of her and fall to her side, tugging her against me as we try to catch our breath. My eyes are heavy. I want to slide into a deep, satisfied sleep, but London shifts next to me and props her head on her hand, her hair falling around us both.

  “Are you tired?” she asks.

  “Aren’t you?”

  She just shrugs, which is womanspeak for no. She’s back to thinking about the storm.

  “I think it’s calming down out there,” I assure her, and cup her face, rubbing her cheek with my thumb.

  “Maybe.”

  “It’s almost time for the sun to come up.” She leans in and kisses me sweetly. “Does this mean we aren’t going back to sleep tonight?”

  “I’m sorry,” she says.

  “No need to be sorry.” I stand from the bed and pull on some sweatpants and a T-shirt, and rummage in my drawer for a clean tee and shorts with a drawstring for London, then pass them to her. “These might work.”

  “Thanks.” She wiggles into them, and makes me laugh. “I look homeless.”

  “You don’t look homeless.” I take her hand and lead her downstairs. “You look like you’re wearing your lover’s clothes because yours are dirty.”

  “Well then, it’s an accurate look.”

  I lead us through the kitchen and to the breakfast nook that looks out at the ocean. The table is small, but the chairs are deep and comfortable. I get London settled in a chair, then run to the TV room to grab a throw blanket and drape it over her.

  “You’re spoiling me,” she says with a smile, holding the blanket close to her. “And I kind of like it.”

  “Good. I’m going to make you coffee.”

  “Having you around is handy,” she says, and smiles when I turn away, shuffling into the kitchen. When the coffees are made, and I’ve toasted some bagels and set some jam and cream cheese on the tray, I walk back to the table and set it out. She’s quietly watching the horizon, worrying her bottom lip in her teeth.

  “The storm has passed.” I sit and offer her the coffee, which she gratefully accepts.

  “And the sunrise is gorgeous,” she adds. “My dad and I would do this when I was young. Sit out after a storm to watch the sunrise.”

  “That’s a nice storm memory.”

  “You’ve given me more,” she says, glancing at me when she reaches for a bagel and cream cheese. “Thank you for that.”

  “Making love with you is never a chore,” I reply, causing her to smirk.

  “I should hope not. But you’ve given me another happy storm memory, and I am grateful.” She takes a bite. “Look at that water.”

  “It’s amazing to me that the wind can be gone, and the rain has passed, and yet the water is still so churned up.”

  “It brings so many interesting things to shore,” she says, her eyes almost excited now.

  “Why do I think that we’re about to go on an early-morning beachcombing mission?”

  “Because we are.” She takes a sip of her coffee and sits back in her chair, her legs tucked up against her chest again. “But first I want to sit here, in this comfortable chair, with this comfortable man, and enjoy the view.”

  “First you call me nice and now you call me comfortable. You’re not great for a man’s ego.”

  “Something tells me you don’t need me to stroke your ego, Finn Cavanaugh,” she replies, watching me over the rim of her mug. “And you know what else is awesome?”

  “What?”

  “I can sit with my knees up. Finally. Without it killing my leg.”

  “You’re healing, London. That’s amazing.”

  “I didn’t know if I ever would, and I don’t just mean my leg, you know. But I’m feeling better. Like there might be hope at the end of this long road.”

  “What else is at the end of it?”

  “Normalcy. Work, if I’m lucky.”

  “And?”

  “Well, it’s convenient that we live in the same city, because I’d like to continue to have you in my life after we leave here.”

  “We’re on the same page there.”

  “Good.” She smiles and takes a bite of her bagel. “Let’s go look for cool shit on the beach, as soon as I finish eating this.”

  “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

  Chapter Seven

  ~London~

  “So, let me get this straight,” Sasha says several hours later, after I’ve gone home to shower and freshen up. “You’re having an affair with your dad’s estate attorney?”

  “That makes it sound . . . shady,” I reply, and wrinkle my nose. I pour myself some iced tea and sit on the sun porch. “I mean, yeah, he handled the estate, but he’s also the neighbor.”

  “Okay, and he’s hot?”

  “So hot,” I confirm. “And he’s so nice.”

  “Run. Nice guys don’t really exist. They pretend to be nice until they get you hooked, and then the real guy comes out and it’s all bullshit.”

  “I don’t know, I think this might be the unicorn guy. He’s not late when he says he’s going to be somewhere, he has a work ethic, loves his family. Oh, and last night when I was freaking out about the storm, he totally calmed me down and we had super-sexy sex to get my mind off of it.”

  “So he comforted you.”

  “Yeah. And it was nice.”

  She’s quiet for a moment. “I want to meet him before I make any judgments. Because you could just be infatuated with his niceness and big dick, and maybe I’ll see that not only does he have a big dick, but he is a big dick.”

  “You make me laugh so hard,” I reply, chuckling. “Of course you’ll get to meet him. We went for a walk on the beach this morning to see what the storm brought in and it was so cool. We found some garbage, of course, and a couple of animal carcasses.”

  “Super romantic,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

  “But we also found a piece of a boat. It looked really old, and I think it was part of a shipwreck, and just got washed up.”

  “Maybe it was a pirate ship. Did you see Captain Jack Sparrow?”

  “You’re in a bitchy mood this morning,” I reply, and sip my drink, then notice the door to the playhouse open. “Who peed in your Cheerios today?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m just jealous. You’re frolicking on the beach with a sexy dude and I’m working my ass off in the city. The weather has been shit, especially for summer, and the director of this new play is determined to kill me. I’m tired and bitchy, and I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. The first few weeks of a new show are always the worst,” I remind her. I remember all too well, and it’s one of the things that I don’t miss.

  “I know. It’ll get better once I memorize all of the lines and the marks.”

  “So, not to change the subject, but you’re going with me out to the playhouse in my backyard.”

  “You have a playhouse?”

  “Yeah, my dad had it built for me when I was a little girl. The door is open, and I need to check it out.”

  “What if there’s a madman waiting for you in there?”

  “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll need you to hang up and call 911.” I poke my head inside. “Hello?”

  “I’m here.”

  “No, I was calling out into the playhouse.” I laugh and step inside. “The storm must have blown the door in. Finn’s niece was out here the other night, and I must not have shut the door firmly when we left.” I glance around and sigh. “Damn, the wind did a number on this place.”

  “Is it ruined?”

  “No, but stuff is blown over, messed up. I think I’ll just shut the door behind me and pretend like it isn’t he
re for now.”

  I do just that and walk back to the house.

  “Maybe I’ll come to that house with you sometime,” Sasha says with a sigh. “It sounds so nice to get out of the city and relax for a while.”

  “When you get a break from the show, we’ll definitely come here. And if I’m not available, you’re always welcome to use it without me.”

  “Thanks,” she says. “When are you coming home?”

  “Soon,” I reply, and sit back in my favorite chair on the porch. “I don’t know exactly when yet, but I’m feeling better and better every day. Recovery is finally happening more rapidly, and although I do love it here, I miss you and the city. But I’m enjoying Finn, so I’m not in a huge hurry.”

  “I get it,” she says, and then yawns. “And I’m so glad you’re feeling better. You sound so good. It makes me happy.”

  “I’m pretty happy,” I confirm. “Is that bad? I mean, my parents have been gone for less than four months, and my career as I know it may be over. Is it wrong that I’m happy?”

  “What are you supposed to do, London? Be miserable for the rest of your life? You’re only thirty-two, with a lot of life ahead. So no, I don’t think it’s bad that you’re healing. Grief is a process, and you’re processing. I think you sound healthy.”

  “Thanks.” My glass is empty. I pull my knees up to my chest and feel the pull of tired, sore muscles.

  But not sore because I’m injured. Sore because I spent the night having sex with maybe the sexiest man I’ve ever met in my life.

  “Oh, one more thing about Finn; he’s almost forty.”

  “That explains it,” Sasha says, and I can hear her snap her fingers in the background. “He’s older, so he has his shit together. Younger guys don’t have their shit together.”

  “Most don’t,” I agree. “But not all men are like that. Finn thought that I might have an issue with the age difference.”

  “Why? You’re not a minor.”

  “That’s what I said. It’s not like I’m thirty and he’s seventy. That might give me pause.”

  “Ew. That should give you pause. Does he have any gray hair?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad. I like a silver fox. That salt-and-pepper-hair thing is sexy.”

  “Maybe you should date an older guy,” I reply with a laugh. “But no, he has dark hair, no gray that I’ve noticed, and dark brown eyes. Olive skin. I think his family is Italian.”

  “That’s kind of hot. Does he speak Italian?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask him.”

  “When are you going to see him again?”

  “Later today. I think it’s safe to say that I have a massive crush on him. But I think it’s more than that too.”

  “It’s about time you fell in love,” she says, and I can hear the satisfied smile on her gorgeous face.

  “I didn’t say love.”

  “It’s okay if you’re still in denial. Enjoy your sexy, older lawyer. Fuck him all day long. Let him spoil you a bit.”

  “I plan to do all of that,” I say. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

  “Same bat time, same bat channel.”

  “You’re doing so great,” Joe says at physical therapy a week later. “How does this feel?”

  He stretches my leg up by my head.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” I reply, close to tears. I don’t understand why today has been so emotional for me at therapy. One minute I’m happy with my progress, and the next I want to break down into ugly sobs. “My muscles are tight because I’ve lost some of the flexibility, but I don’t feel injured.”

  “Fantastic, kiddo.” He runs me through a series of exercises, watching me like a hawk. “That last lunge looked a little shaky.”

  “Yeah, because I did thirty of them,” I reply, and shake my head. “I’m not training for the Olympics here.”

  “True. And your strength has increased nicely. I’m very happy with your progress, London. You should be proud.”

  “I am.” I blink rapidly and look down, but he catches my chin in his fingers and makes me look at him.

  “What’s up with the tears today?”

  “It feels different.” I shrug a shoulder, glance out the window that faces the water, and then back to Joe, who’s become more than a therapist. He’s my friend.

  “How so?”

  “I just . . .” I swallow hard. “It feels like things are changing with my body, and with how I feel about everything that happened. When you stretch me out, I want to cry. When I lunge, I feel proud, and angry at the same time.”

  “Why angry?”

  “Because my parents can’t lunge. They can’t do anything. But I’ll be damned if I’ll let the fire kill all of us, especially if I’m still living. So I’m proud, and I’m sad because I miss them.”

  “They’d be so proud of you, London.” Joe pats my shoulder and waits while I brush a tear from my cheek. “You’re healing. Let’s go to my office.”

  I follow behind him to his office and sit across from him, snagging a tissue from the box on his desk and wiping my eyes.

  “You’ve held a lot of your grief in your body, London.”

  I nod, unable to answer at first. “I hold most emotions in my body. It’s why dance was always so important to me.”

  He leans forward, listening avidly.

  “I express myself in dance, in music. I haven’t been able to use that as my outlet for this grief, for the sadness. But the therapy has helped.”

  “I’m glad.” He smiles and opens the folder sitting on his desk. “And I have some exciting news.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I’m happy to report that I think our time together is done.”

  I stare at him in disbelief.

  “I know, you’re gonna miss me, but I don’t think there’s any reason for you to keep coming here, unless you start having issues again, or feel like you’re sliding backward. But you’re a strong woman, who was in excellent health to begin with, which helped you immeasurably.”

  “You’re discharging me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He folds his hands on his desk and smiles at me. “Congratulations, London, you’ve graduated from PT.”

  I smile and clap my hands, tears threatening again, but happy tears this time. “Awesome. Can I start going to the gym?”

  “I don’t see why not. Take it easy and listen to your body. Don’t overdo it.”

  “I won’t. I’m just ready to get back into decent shape.”

  “You don’t consider this decent shape?” He laughs and shakes his head.

  “Joe, I was a professional dancer. I’m twenty pounds heavier and can’t run five miles without feeling like I’m going to die.”

  “I get it. You’ll get all of that back. It won’t take long.”

  I nod and stand when he does. I can’t help from reaching out and hugging him hard.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He pulls back and smiles down at me. “You’re going to be great.”

  I nod and leave the PT office, and when I get to my car, I reach for my phone and immediately call Finn.

  “This is Finn.”

  “Hey, are you busy?”

  “Never too busy for you. What’s up?”

  “I have super-awesome news, and I need to see you right away. Can I come over?”

  “Of course. See you soon?”

  “Very soon.” I hang up and drive directly to his house. I hurry inside and find him in his office at the top of the stairs. “Hi.”

  “Hey beautiful.” He stands and holds his arms open, inviting me in for a hug, and I swear it’s like coming home. “Your body is humming. What’s going on?”

  “I have the best news ever. I’ve been discharged from PT.” I pull back and do a little dance in excitement. “I get to go to the gym and lose the weight I’ve gained. I can do pretty much whatever I want.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve had all day,” he says, his han
dsome smile wide and happy. “Not that you’re losing weight, but that you’re healing. The curves don’t bother me.”

  “The curves don’t bother me either, I just want to go to the gym,” I reply honestly. “I need to be more active than I have been. Exercise has always come easy to me, and it’s time to get back there.”

  “Anything that puts this glow on your face makes me happy as well,” he says. “And I might have an idea on how we can celebrate.”

  “How?”

  “Let’s go to London.”

  I stop and stare at him in confusion. “As in, England?”

  “Yes, that one.” He leans in to kiss me softly. “To be fair, I’d already planned the trip as a surprise, and this is the perfect opportunity to tell you about it.”

  “When are we leaving?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  I feel my eyes grow wide, and then I smile and launch myself into his arms. “You’re taking me to London?”

  “Baby, I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

  “Let’s start with London.” I kiss him and grin when he sits me down on his desk. “This is the best surprise.”

  “Just wait until you see what I’ve planned for us there.”

  The lights. The music, and the dancing. The incredible acting, direction, costuming.

  The story.

  Finn brought me to London yesterday, first-class, and tonight he brought me to a show at the Bush Theatre, in the West End theater district, London’s equivalent to Broadway.

  Our seats are, of course, stellar, and all I can do is hold his hand as I sit and take it all in avidly, soaking in every minute of it.

  Oh, how I’ve missed this. Not just being a part of it, but being a lover of the theater, part of the audience, experiencing the absolute magic of what the actors create.

  For two hours, we are entertained impeccably, and with each curtain call, I’m on my feet, enthusiastically applauding the hard work of everyone involved.

  “What did you think?” Finn asks when the houselights come up.

  “Absolutely wonderful,” I reply with a wide smile, and crook my finger, silently asking him to lean in and kiss me.

  Which he happily does.