by Jewel E. Ann
“I will when I finish. Touch yourself, sexy.”
I turn back around. A cocky smile slides up his face as he strokes himself with more intensity. My lips part as I watch him; then my tongue circles over them.
“Take off your clothes …” he grits between his heavy breaths.
With slow seduction, I remove my clothes. It feels like his eyes are licking my flesh.
“Do you … want … to touch … yourself?” He pants out each word.
“Yes,” I breathe, sliding my hand down my belly, then turning, I flash up the stairs.
“Darby!” Trick yells with a grinding displeasure to his voice.
I slam the door to our room and lock it. Resting my back against it, I widen my stance and … touch myself. “Oh … God …”
“Darby!”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The door vibrating from his fists pounding on it only intensifies my pleasure.
“Fuck!” He yells with a final punch. “Are you touching yourself?”
My fingers speed up, easily sliding along my wet sex, thanks to Trick. “Feels … so … good …”
“Stop!”
“I’m … close … oh God … right there … yes … Yes … YES!” I melt down the door as my orgasm sucks the life right out of me.
He growls a few expletives. “I want a divorce.” Then I hear his grumbling fade as he stomps down the stairs.
As far as self-induced orgasms go, that one was the best. He had me so worked up when he was stroking himself; then that voice, that damn sexy voice does it to me every time. It was torturous for me too. I wanted his body pressed to mine, filling me, more than almost anything, except how much I wanted to show him that I won the bet and he was not going to steal my victory.
Chapter Forty
In spite of Trick’s claim of “sexual torture,” we’re still married. I explain to him there were no witnesses, whereas I have two witnesses that saw me tied up and bound to the back of the sofa, naked. Memories like that make me a little envious of Trick’s amnesia.
Trick looks up from his work as I lean against the door frame to the guest bedroom.
“Can I interest you in lunch?”
“You?”
I laugh. “I was breakfast. I’m thinking actual food. Maybe you could take a break. We could throw on our helmets and go someplace.”
He grins. “Great idea, there’s something we need to get while we’re out.”
“What’s that?”
He moves toward me with sexy mischief in his eyes. Laying a soft kiss on my lips, he whispers, “You’ll see.”
We stop for lunch and enjoy our meal and the great weather on the rooftop patio. I wonder when the day will come that I stop pinching myself for this life. Even with all the uncertainty of Trick’s past, it doesn’t take away from the craziness that brought us to this point in such a short amount of time. We are proof that certainty is only in the now and the future is nothing more than a random guess.
“I’m crazy in love with you.” I grin, sipping my margarita.
Trick leans back in his chair, stirring his soda with his straw. “Well, the first is definitely a requirement for the second.”
“Maybe.” I nudge his foot with mine. “How did you get into yoga?”
His lips purse to the side. “Tamsen suggested it as part of my drug rehab. A friend of hers is an instructor. It works well with the twelve-step program. It taught me new coping mechanisms.”
“And when you do it you look insanely fuckable.”
Trick chuckles while shaking his head at my crass comment that was meant to elicit this exact reaction. “Yes, of course, that’s the main reason I do it.”
His eyes tense as he stares at his glass. Those hidden emotions of his are running rampant; I can see it in the way his smile slips. “Why did your father hit you?”
In spite of us being outside, it feels like there’s a lack of oxygen in the air around us. I did not see that question coming. “I suppose a psychiatrist would say because he’s never properly dealt with the loss of my mom, and I’m a reminder of her. I’m here and she’s not. So when I anger him, all those pent up emotions cause him to lash out at me.”
“But why do you think he hit you?”
My eyes find Trick’s. “Because he’s a coward and an asshole, and he knows it. He just doesn’t like it when I remind him of it.”
“He hit you because you told him you were leaving with me.”
“No. He hit me because my mom died and I lived.”
“That’s fucked-up.”
I shrug.
Trick leans forward, taking my hand. “I owe your mom everything.”
Tears.
I swallow the lump of emotions in my throat. “Did I mention I’m crazy in love with you?”
A lip twitch.
*
We end up down in Cabo … at a tattoo parlor.
“What are you getting now?” I ask as he takes off my helmet. “Have you made sure this is a reputable place? Tattoo removal isn’t a fun process, and you also need to make sure you’re not going to end up with an infection.”
He cups my face, laying a sound kiss on my lips. “I’ve checked everything out. We’ll be fine.”
“We’ll?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t need a tattoo.”
“Yes, you do. Come.”
I don’t come. I stand rooted to the ground by the motorcycle.
Trick looks back. “What?” He sighs.
“I’ve never thought about getting a tattoo before.”
“Then don’t think about it now. Come.” He gestures with his head to the door.
With lead in my shoes, I make my way to him. He takes my hand and drags me inside.
After an hour wait it’s our turn. I’ve been informed I don’t get to pick out my tattoo. Figures. Trick negotiates with the artist while I observe our surroundings, inspecting the sanitary conditions.
“Do you want to go first or do you want me to?” Trick asks.
Does he really have to ask?
A smirk and head shake. “I’ll go first.”
I give him a slow you-bet-your-ass-you-will nod.
Thirty minutes later and we’re on our way home. Left ring fingers bandaged over the date we got married tattooed in sanskrit. I nearly cried at just how romantic of a gesture it was … That and getting a tattoo on the sensitive skin of my finger hurt like hell. Trick didn’t even flinch. Cocky showoff!
“Wife.” Trick opens the door to the house.
“Husband.” I grin, holding up my bandaged finger while walking past him.
“What are you doing?” He asks as I send a text to Tamsen.
“I’m telling Tamsen you bought me a wedding band today … or…” I glance up with an annoyed smirk “…a marriage band.”
He bends down, burying his stubbly face in the crook of my neck. “You can call it a wedding … a marriage … a ceremony … getting hitched.” He skims his hands up my sides, dropping his mouth to my cleavage exposed with my V-neck top. “You said ‘I do.’ That’s all that matters to me.”
Trick is anything but conventional. I was a little surprised that marriage mattered to him, but then he brought me to the place where his parents met and I saw a side to Trick I’m quite certain very few have ever seen—the boy who grew up a witness to the most beautiful, yet tragic love story ever.
“Show me … show me how much it matters.” Each one of my words comes out a breathy slur as I set my phone on the counter.
He straightens, that sexy gaze a slow lick up the center of my sex as I melt with need for his touch. Wasting no time, he gives me what he knows I want—he removes his shirt. I grin and remove mine. We make haste with ridding our bodies of the rest of our clothes.
“Bed or counter?” He presses his naked body to mine, tangling his hands in my hair, tugging my head back until I’m looking up into his eyes.
“Counter.”
He kisses me and lifts me up.
“Ooo! Bed!” I squeal, clamping my legs around his waist as the cold tile meets my bottom.
He laughs and carries me upstairs. “You just got your first tattoo but the counter is too cold?”
“Shut up.” I kiss him as he lays us down on the bed. Pressing my palms to his face, I push him back just far enough to look into his eyes. “Counter says quickie. I don’t want anything about this to be quick.” I brush my thumb over his bottom lip. “Show me your wedding vows.”
He does … he shows me that the memories we make will be filled with long motorcycle rides, lazy, long lunches at little restaurants in town, and plenty of quickies on cold tile. But at the end of every day we’ll remember that our memories are all chapters to a love story … our love story.
*
I love that we’re the couple that stays tangled in each other’s bodies all night. I love the way he fists my hair like he’s holding a security blanket when I bury my face in his neck. I love that he still wakes up most nights with his head wedged between my legs, like I’m a midnight snack, and that less than ten minutes later were both sated and right back to sleep, not feeling the least bit exhausted from it in the morning.
Slipping out of bed, I try to sneak out before he wakes.
“Darby,” his groggy voice calls.
“Go back to sleep. You’re not supposed to be awake. I’m going to surprise you with breakfast in bed. Just pretend this conversation never took place.”
His lips pull into a barely detectable grin, but he doesn’t open his eyes. I make quick work of toast and eggs while noticing on my phone I have thirteen missed calls from Tamsen and one message and another missed call from Jade. She’s probably wondering what to do with the stuff in my locker. I smile as I listen to Tamsen’s message while I butter and jelly our toast. I bet she’s dying to see my ring. I didn’t mention it’s a tattoo.
“Sweetie it’s me. I’ve been trying to reach you and Trick. Darby … I don’t know if you’ve heard or had the TV on …” The shakiness in her voice sends chills down my spine and when she pauses I hold my breath. “There’s been an accident. And since I haven’t heard from either you or Trick, I assume you haven’t been contacted yet. Your family’s been in a car accident. I don’t know all the details yet or their conditions, but it’s all over the news and it appears to be pretty serious. So call me and let me know when you get this message. Grady and I are both getting flights to Chicago; we’ll probably be there before you and Trick. I’m so sorry … I didn’t want to leave a message but I don’t know what else to do. Call me.”
With shaky hands and my heart in my throat, I listen to the message from Jade.
“Darby, it’s Jade. Your family’s been in an accident. I need you to call me as soon as you get this message.”
My phone crashes to the ground. “Oh my God …” The words are barely a whisper. I can’t speak; I can’t breathe. Thankfully my legs work without my brain, taking me up the stairs and straight into the closet to get my suitcase.
“Darby?” Trick calls but I’m still at a loss for words. “What are you doing?” He stands at the door, watching me toss random items into my suitcase. “Darby!”
I jump and look up, with one blink the flood gates open.
“Baby, what is it?” He hunches next to where I’m kneeling on the floor and pulls me into his body.
“The-there’s b-been an a-accident,” I sob. “I n-n-need to g-get home.”
“What happened?”
“C-car accident. I-I have to g-go.” I wriggle out of his hold.
He stands, lifting me to my feet. Then he bends down to look in my eyes. “Get dressed. I’ll pack our stuff and get our tickets. Okay?”
I nod, my lower lip trembling.
*
Everything’s a blur until we land at O’Hare. I’m certain Trick has had to drag me everywhere until this point. I’ve seen him on his cell phone and mine too, but I haven’t been able to formulate the words to ask who he’s talking to, and there’s been this eerie silence in my ears. I see people’s lips moving, but it’s as if someone hit the mute button.
When we get to the hospital, I don’t wait for Trick or help him with our luggage. I fly through the emergency room doors, straight to the nurses’ station.
“Darby.” Jade sees me before I reach the counter. She pulls me into her arms “I’m so sorry.”
I pull back, confused by her somberness.
She looks at me then something over my shoulder catches her eye and she gives a small nod. I turn.
Trick takes my hand and pulls me aside so we’re not standing in the middle of the normal chaos. He cradles my face and takes a deep swallow. “Darby …”
I blink releasing tears because he’s scaring me.
“Your father didn’t make it.”
I swallow and just … stare. The voices around me are nothing more than distant echoes. “Where’s Nana?”
Trick furrows his brow. “She’s upstairs. Her injuries were minor.”
I turn and head for the elevators.
Trick catches up to me just as the elevator doors close.
“Darby, look at me.” He grabs my arms. “Did you hear what I said?”
I nod as the elevator doors open. “What room is she in?”
Trick shakes his head as I once again pull away from his grip. I get Nana’s room number and run down the hall. Her friend, Mary, is sitting in the chair next to her bed.
“Darby.” Mary frowns with sympathy in her eyes.
“How is she?”
“She’s fine, just a concussion and a few minor cuts and bruises. Doctor said she can go home tomorrow morning.”
Mary rests her hand on my back as I watch Nana sleep. “Sweetie, I’m so very sorry about your father.”
“When was she last awake?”
“What?” Mary asks looking at me and then at Trick.
“Has she eaten anything today?”
“Uh … well, yes.”
Trick’s hand slides up my back underneath my hair, and with gentle strokes he massages my neck.
“You must be Trick?”
“Yes,” he answers.
“Hi, I’m Mary.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Mary steps back. “I’m going to go get some coffee. Can I get either of you anything?”
I don’t respond.
“We’re fine, thanks,” Trick replies.
“What happened?” I whisper.
Mary stops at the door. “They were on their way to dinner and a driver ran a red light. They hit the back half of the vehicle on your father’s side.”
“Nana must have been sitting upfront with the driver. She always sits upfront.” I smile and squeeze her hand, so grateful that she was in a safer spot.
“Grady and Tamsen are on their way.” Trick kisses the top of my head.
I nod. “You should go back with them. I’m going to stay here with Nana tonight. You can come get us in the morning.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“No, Grady and Tamsen are here to see you.”
Trick leans down, kissing the top of my head. “They’re here for you, Darby. We’re all here for you.”
“Nana’s going to be fine. Grady and Tamsen didn’t need to fly in for a concussion.”
Trick starts to say something just as Nana’s eyes creep open.
“Nana!” I squeeze her hand again.
“Darby, dear.” Her voice is rough and weak.
“I was so worried about you.”
She moves her head from side to side. “I’m sorry—”
“No, it’s fine, Nana. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“It was my idea … to go to dinner … he didn’t want to go.”
I shake my head. “Shh … it’s fine, you’re fine. The doctor said you can go home tomorrow. I’m staying with you tonight.”
She narrows her eyes, looking past me to Trick.
“Hi, Grace. Glad to see you’re doing well.”
/> I turn to look at Trick. His expression is hard to read. It’s like the two of them are saying something that they’re not actually saying.
“We’ll get you home tomorrow and you and Darby can spend some more time alone… talking.”
Nana nods, squeezing my hand, her eyes glassy with tears. “Yes, dear, tomorrow we’ll talk.”
Chapter Forty-One
Grady texts me that he and Tamsen are in the waiting room, so I excuse myself. Turning the corner from Grace’s room I’m greeted with Rachel. She freezes, all color draining from her face. Just as quickly as it disappears it comes back. She glares at me. I don’t think she’s waiting for me to give my condolences.
“Visitors are restricted to family only,” she sneers.
“I was visiting my wife’s grandmother.” I hold up my left hand and point to the tattoo on my ring finger.
The color leaves her face again as she averts her eyes, brushing past me.
“By the way …” I turn. Her jaw’s clenched, eyes squinted at me. “I know what you’re doing and you’d better knock it off or I’ll bury you. Got it?”
I don’t “got it” or “get it” for that matter, but I’m not going to let her know it. “Darby’s in there. I don’t think she wants to see you. Besides, I think I’m actually considered family more than you are, given recent events.”
Her jaw drops.
There’s your fucking condolences, bitch!
*
“Hey …” Tamsen hugs me. “How’s Darby?”
“In denial.”
“What?” Grady hugs me too.
“I told her about her father and several other people have tried to comfort her, but she won’t even acknowledge that anything about him is being said, let alone that he’s dead. Her only focus is Grace.”
“That’s not good,” Grady grimaces.
“No, but Grace goes home tomorrow and I’m hoping if they spend some time together Grace will be able to help her acknowledge and accept what has happened.”
“She’s in shock, that’s all.” Tamsen hands me a bottle of water.
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“We saw Rachel Hart walk that way, then she left as quickly as she came.” Grady sips his coffee. “We met years back, but I’m sure she doesn’t remember me, otherwise I would have given her my condolences.”