by K. L. Kreig
“Love you, Eric,” Addy whispers into his chest as she catches him in a bear hug.
“Love you more, Leenie.”
“Oh shoot, I forgot something. Be right back.” She surprises me by stopping for a quick kiss, whispering, “The shoes are too much, but I love them,” before I watch her disappear up the stairs. When she’s out of sight, I turn to Eric and hold out my hand. He looks at it for a few seconds before grabbing it and pulling me in for a classic man hug.
His grip painfully tightens, keeping me there so he can whisper, “I mean it, Colloway. You break my sister’s heart, there is no measure to what I won’t do to hurt you back a thousandfold.”
Breaking her heart would break me, period, so there’s nothing that Eric could do to me that would be worse. “Understood.”
Releasing me, we stand in silence, regarding the other. “She’s my baby sister, Luke.”
I know the instant I fell in love with Addy Monroe. I knew she was mine when I first saw her, though I can honestly say that’s not when I took the hard fall. That would happen months later in the blink of an eye, and yet I tried to deny it was possible over the last few months. Love doesn’t happen like that, does it?
When I overheard her sexy, drunk ass talking about a slice of hotness during Livia’s bachelorette party, that was it. I wanted to be the man she desired. I wanted the right to touch her. I wanted to live every day making her happy because I could see the underlying sadness in her eyes and I needed to wipe it away. Those few seconds in time would forever change me.
“She’s my entire life, Eric,” I reply softly, never meaning anything more.
He nods.
I return it.
“Okay, ready,” Addy says, back at my side and a little breathless. I can think of a dozen more pleasurable ways to steal her breath than running up and down stairs.
As if Eric is just noticing her suitcase for the first time, his eyes snap to mine and I just smirk; he knows she’s coming back to my mom’s with me. “It’s not enough you’re already stealing my baby sister, you’re bringing your innocent mother in on your debauchery?”
“Not for long,” I retort and now it’s Addy’s eyes that are snapping to mine, brows creased in confusion. She may not know exactly what I mean, but Eric sure as fuck does. His lips thin slightly before they curve, the smile reaching his eyes.
Yep. We’re going to be one big happy family.
Chapter 37
I ate so much my pants are cutting into my waist, but I couldn’t make myself stop. Barb Colloway is the all-around perfect woman. She’s insightful, has a heart as big as Texas, and has a simply magnetic personality. The love she has for her boys shines as bright as a million suns and the selfless way she’s already making me feel like a part of her family makes me want to bawl like a baby. It’s just a bonus the woman clearly knows her way around the kitchen like a pro. I can easily see why Luke is an amazing cook.
Luke’s mother is the role model you strive to emulate your entire life. You know you’ll never achieve her perfection, but you try every day anyway to reach that elusive pinnacle, and in the end, you’re a better person for it. I think that’s what a good mom is and I give myself permission for a few moments to feel angry I didn’t have that.
My dad is fantastic and never gave less than a hundred percent, yet at the end of the day…he wasn’t my mom and through no fault of his own, he wasn’t around much when I needed him most in my teenage years.
I think out of every bad relationship, you have to find the good. There’s a lesson to be learned, even if it’s one about yourself. And the good in my bad relationship with my mother is that I know the kind of mother I don’t want to be. I will spend my life emulating Barb Colloway and if I can raise children half as wonderful as her boys, I will consider that a success.
“They seem to be getting along well, don’t they?” my boyfriend (smile) whispers against my ear as his arms wrap around me from behind. He nibbles my lobe, making me shiver with desire.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I reply quietly, watching my dad and Luke’s mom gab away at the kitchen island. Every once in a while, Barb will touch my dad’s arm and giggle like she’s fifteen again. It’s kind of adorable. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your mom was flirting with my dad.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your dad is trying to pick up my mom,” he chuckles. I join in.
My brows furrow. “That would be weird, right? I mean if they like started dating and got married or something?”
He leans against the kitchen wall, pulling me with him. The Colloway kitchen is huge, a good twenty-five feet in width, so while there are six of us in here, we’re all in our own little bubble, our own little space, so our conversation can’t be overheard. Still, we talk softly.
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, fireball. I’m not sure my mom will ever marry again. Despite what she doesn’t know, she was madly in love with my dad. Still is, even though it’s been over three years since he’s been gone.”
“Would you be okay with it? I mean…not necessarily my dad, but if she got remarried?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? My mom’s only in her late-fifties and hopefully has a lot of life yet to live. I’d like to think there’s someone else out there for her.”
I think on that for a bit, knowing if what Luke and I have works out and we end up marrying and if I lost him at such a young age, I’d never remarry. No one else would ever be able to live up to him. Another man would always be my second and how would that be fair to him? “I couldn’t,” I mumble.
Turning me around, Luke scoops up my long hair, twisting it around his fist a few times before using it to tilt my head. His other arm hooks around my waist to draw me tight. My arms twine around his neck as he demands my undivided attention. “Couldn’t what?” he asks probingly.
I’m completely aware of our surroundings and the fact that we are far from alone, even in this big house. Livia and Gray are sorting through their baby gifts, which are still sitting in the corner of the living room. Asher and Alyse are at the kitchen table talking about hors d’oeuvres and wedding music. And Eric and Conn are half asleep on the couch watching golf.
I’m also completely aware I should have kept my damn mouth shut, because, while we may have just declared our love for each other within the last twenty-four hours, I’m not sure how I’m going to get out of this conversation without intimating that I want to marry him. That’s the kiss of death this early in a relationship. Not that I have personal experience with that, but I have plenty of friends who do.
Shit.
“Uh, nothing.”
He searches my face before saying, “Has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible liar?”
I try my level best to feign confusion. I’m good at a lot of things; subterfuge is not one of them, dammit. Even my white lies turn black. I forge ahead anyway. “I know not what you speak of.”
He laughs loudly. Too loudly, because I feel lots of eyes upon us now.
“I want to marry you,” he declares vehemently against my lips.
My stomach free falls, landing with a deafening crack at my feet. So loud was the sound, I’m not sure how the whole room couldn’t have heard it. I try to pull back, but his grip is ironclad. “What?” I breathe.
“You heard me, fireball. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”
Uh…does this sound like yesterday’s conversation? Yes, except things just got fucking real. There’s no way I mistook marry for hairy or bury or library. He definitely said marry.
M
A
R
R
Y
“Lu—”
He tightens his hold slightly on my long locks so I can’t look away. “Don’t speak, Addy. Just listen. I’m not asking you now—I’m making it known that’s what I want. The only way this story ends is with you as my wife and the mother of my eight children.”
I’m stunned momentarily as my brain ca
tches up to his words. I can’t believe how smooth this man is and not in a creepy used car salesman kind of way, but one that’s utterly disarming.
“Did you say eight?” I chuckle.
“Six?” he counters.
I cock a brow.
“Four?”
I don’t renegotiate and he beams with smugness, knowing he’s hit the magic number.
Oh my God. What just happened here? Did I betroth myself to him and commit to having four kids while standing in his mother’s kitchen with our family surrounding us?
It sure feels like it.
After several beats of awkward silence, I whisper, “I couldn’t remarry.”
“I know, sweetheart. I feel the same way.”
Neither of us seems to care or remember where we are when he captures my mouth in a slow, seductive kiss, teasing my seam apart with his tongue. We stand in his mother’s kitchen making out like teenagers until I hear my brother hiss his disbelief from across the room.
When we break apart, Luke gives me a cheeky grin and winks, holding my eyes, wordlessly reaffirming the conversation we just had.
“I love you,” he mouths.
“I love you,” I parrot silently.
Can someone pinch me? Is it possible I’ve fallen into a Disney movie where the perfect, handsome knight in shining armor steps out of the shadows, saves you by cutting down his foe with a magical sword, and swoops you up onto his snowy white stallion only to declare his undying love?
If I have plunged into such an enchanted place, please don’t wake me.
Fuck the real world.
I want to stay right here.
Forever.
Chapter 38
Today started out like any other normal day. These past few weeks since Addy and I returned from Easter weekend we’ve fallen into a routine, she and I, and I have to admit I like it. No, correction. I fucking love it.
On the days she opens her studio, we get up at the same time, around seven-thirty, and have breakfast together. I make the coffee and she cooks. I’ve taught her how to make eggs half a dozen ways and can even eat them now that she’s learned there are more heat settings on the stove than just high. Patience isn’t exactly one of my woman’s virtues, in case you haven’t caught on to that by now.
On the days she doesn’t open, I wake her up anyway, except it’s with my cock or my mouth instead of a smooth cup of coffee. I confess I may wake her up that exact same way on the other days too, but I don’t hear her complaining. If she didn’t like it she’d be sure to screech it loudly in my ear, so I know I’m on the right track. Although I love her, I’ve decided Addy should come with a decibel warning, kinda like one they give you when you walk into a rock concert.
Then we’ll hook back up again in the evening for domesticated shit like making dinner together, watching TV, and massive amounts of fucking anywhere and everywhere until we pass out exhausted in my bed so we can start it all over again the next day.
I’m not sure we’ve left a surface or a wall untouched in our whole place, not that it’s that big to begin with, but still. And bonus? Those ridiculously, stupidly expensive shoes look quite amazing when she’s bent over the couch or my dresser or the counter in only those and nothing else. I make her wear them often so I can get my money’s worth.
On Sundays, she doesn’t work, so neither do I. And when we aren’t running Madge or Mr. Neildorf from 2B around on small errands, we often stay naked in bed all day and eat and talk and read, or I introduce her to old classic movies she hasn’t seen in between long, leisurely bouts of lovemaking. That’s my favorite day of the week, the one where I get to hold her and touch her all day long. Makes for a hell of a withdrawal come Monday, but the aftereffects are worth it.
After my marriage declaration in my mom’s kitchen a month ago, which I know took Addy by surprise, it hasn’t been spoken of again. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about it every single day since. I sometimes wonder if I’m trying to rush things too much, too fast, but whenever I try to talk myself into waiting months or even longer to ask her, it makes me feel sick inside. Like blackness is seeping its way back into my soul, trying to drown out my brilliant color.
Marrying her is the only thing that feels right and I could wait five months or five years before I popped the question. We’d still end up in the same place.
With her as my wife.
So why wait?
I’ve become practically obsessed with the thought, so much so it’s almost all I think about. I even broke down and over lunch a couple weeks ago, I talked to Gray and Ash about it. I knew they’d understand without giving me a rash of shit like Bigs would. They both told me essentially the same thing. “When you know, you know.”
Well, I know all right. I fucking know.
So I’m taking action. I’ve begun to ditch work for hours during the day looking for the perfect ring, but nothing I’ve found has even come close to being worthy of her, so I’ve started the process of designing my own with the same jeweler Asher used to buy Alyse’s.
I don’t have a damn clue what I’m doing, what I will like, what Addy will like, but the owner, Hank, is an absolute gem (pun intended). He’s almost seventy years old and has fifty years of experience in the business, creating custom pieces for people from all over the world. He said, “Finding the perfect ring is exactly the same as finding the perfect woman. When you see it, just like when you saw her, you’ll know. It will hit you right smack in the middle of your chest.”
I wasn’t sure about that, but he was right. Here I am, sitting at the kitchen counter staring at The Ring. This is the second set of designs Hank’s created. I discarded the first set within fifteen seconds. Though I sort of felt bad because he’d gone to a lot of trouble; none of them hit me in the middle of my chest.
But this ring screams Addy. It’s unique, just like her. It’s multifaceted, just like her. And Hank said the cut would catch the light, creating a brilliant kaleidoscope of colors…just like her.
The stone is square with rectangular facets. It’s so unique, the diamond actually looks like an upside-down pyramid when you stare down the center. Dozens of tiny round diamonds circle the centerpiece and run down the band. I lost my breath when I saw it, just as I did when I saw her, so there’s no doubt it’s the one. I’m lost in my thoughts when the front door opens and I scramble, slamming my laptop shut.
Fuck.
I look at the clock to see it’s only four and wonder what the hell Addy is doing home already. It’s Friday and she generally teaches that women’s painting class Friday nights where they drink wine and try talking over each other. I attended a class one night. Let’s just say it will be a while before I go back. I’d much rather stab a hot poker in my eye or have a vasectomy than go back to that again. If a guy tells you he wants to get his junk cut up over anything else, you know it’s bad.
“What are you doing here?” she asks breathlessly as if she just ran up the stairs.
“I could ask you the same thing.” I take her purse and the two bags of groceries she has in her arms, setting them on the counter.
“Landyn’s coming today. Did you forget? She’ll be here in an hour or so.”
Landyn. Shit. Yep, it slipped my preoccupied mind.
When Addy first talked about her niece, I was confused. I knew Eric and Addy had an older sister, but I kind of forgot about her because Addy never once mentioned her name. Then, color me surprised to find out she’s twenty-five years old. I didn’t realize their sister was sixteen years older than Addy.
“No, I didn’t forget, baby. She still staying here?”
Addy stops putting the food in the fridge and walks over to me. “Yes. Is that still okay?”
No. It’s not okay and she knows it. Then I can’t fuck her anywhere I want, anytime I want. Can’t she get a damn hotel? I’ll even pay for it.
“If that’s what you want, but she’s leaving Monday, right?”
She laughs knowingly, sliding her arm
s around my neck. “Yes, lover boy. She’s leaving Monday.”
“So we have an hour, huh?” I hum in her ear.
“A whole hour. Have any ideas how to kill sixty minutes?” she taunts, sucking on my neck.
“You know I do, fireball. I have a whole fucking list of ideas.”
“The list will never go down if you keep re-adding things we’ve already done, Luke.”
“Good,” I reply, silencing her with my mouth. I have every intention of keeping that list perpetually long and adventurous. The more I have of her, the more addicted to her I become.
Her scent, her taste, her sounds, her fucking essence.
I love them all. Everything about her is tattooed on my very bones and runs thick through my blood.
In less than thirty seconds, our clothes are thrown in a pile on the kitchen floor and I have her sitting astride me on a stool bouncing on my cock when my phone rings.
“Don’t get it,” she moans breathlessly. “I’m so close.”
Get my phone? She actually thinks I’d stop fucking her to answer my phone? There’s no world in which that would ever happen. “I know, sweetheart. Your pussy’s choking me. Christ, you feel so good, Addy.” Like heaven. Like home.
I drive my hips harder and faster and just as Addy’s crying out my name, coming all over my cock and quivering in my arms, her phone starts ringing.
“Fuck me. Really?” I grit angrily, ignoring it to latch onto a pert pink nipple that’s dancing for me. Ten beats later I stiffen and release my seed deep into her on a low groan. Nothing on earth feels as good as being inside her.
We’re panting and sweaty, our foreheads stuck together when I hear another fucking shrill break through our harsh breaths, shattering our post-orgasmic bliss.
“Jesus fucking Christ. Is someone dying?” I bark, reaching for my cell that’s lying on the counter. I have to lean way forward to grab it and Addy almost slips off my softening dick in the process, which only ratchets up my ire further. Yanking her back on, because we have forty-five minutes left and I’m nowhere near done with her yet, I hit the accept button just as I see it’s Gray.