by Aria Ford
The terms were that they review their policies and make active changes to their business in Brazil. They were going to commit to helping the people on the mines. No more underage work, better conditions, better wages. I felt tears wet my cheeks.
“So it worked out.” He looked happy.
“It did,” I said, trying not to sob. “I'm so pleased.”
Then, with my heart soaring, I realized what that meant. We were free. We could go home. We could have the wedding in our hometown and my mom and Chett could attend, and his family too. We were free. Our baby would be born surrounded by loved ones. I was so happy.
“Drake,” I murmured. “That is so, so wonderful.”
“It is, rather.”
I stared at him. “You know what?”
“What?”
“You sound really proper. This place has had its effect on you.”
We both laughed. Then we collapsed on the bed together.
We made love and I fell asleep with a heart full of bliss.
We were going home. We were getting married.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ainsley
We married a month later. It was a quiet wedding in a small chapel, with just twenty guests – his mom and dad and sister, my mom and my brother, friends and of course Aunt Jay.
I smiled as she kissed my cheeks.
“You look stunning, my dear.”
I blinked back my tears, surprised by how touched I as. “Thank you,” I said.
I looked down at myself and felt stunning. Drake had spared no expense and the dress was a long dress of ivory satin with a “V” neckline and a fitted bodice, falling into a long, shapeless sheath with a wide train that followed behind me. The veil was a soft white chiffon that hung down my back on top of the train, lapping together on the floor.
“You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen.”
Drake smiled. “I'm not sure if I am,” he said ruefully.
“You are,” I said, shooting him a stern gaze.
He chuckled. “If you say so, my dear.”
“I do.”
He was stunning, dressed in a black suit that fit him to perfection, with a yellow carnation that matched the ones I held, pinned to the front.
We walked out of the church together and into the car.
My lips parted under his tongue and I leaned against him, letting his sweet kiss explore me, opening my lips further so that I could let him enter fully. He sighed and pushed me back against the seat, his hand stroking the satin of my gown as he held me close. I pressed against him and felt my whole body melt with need.
“Should we just go?” he whispered as we sat up.
I chuckled. “You mean, go home and miss our reception?” I chuckled, disbelieving.
“Why not?” he asked. “I want you.”
“We won’t stay long,” I promised.
“I don't mind,” he said. “We have to have a party.”
“Yes, we do. But I want you too. And we can have a party tomorrow.”
He laughed. “Agreed.”
“But I suppose our guests would be disappointed,” I said with a wry grin up at him.
“I guess.”
We drove on to the hotel, laughing and smiling.
The reception was wonderful – everything was beautiful, decorated in our chosen colors of cream and yellow. We cut the cake – a magnificent three-tier creation that was chocolate but garnished in the traditional way with thick icing and beautiful roses.
“Wow,” Liam said from across the table. “This cake is amazing.”
Drake chuckled. “No good looking at me.”
“No,” he said, eyes wide with merriment. “I know.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I know you. If you'd made it, you'd have left it in the oven, forgotten about it and burned it.”
We all laughed. I found that I really liked Liam. And we owed him a great deal. Without him it would never have been safe for us to come home. As it was, we were well-received and happy.
“I couldn't have chosen someone better for you, Ains.” My brother whispered it to me as we sat together at the table. “Drake's a great guy.”
“I know,” I murmured. He laughed.
“I'm so happy for both of you.”
I tousled his blonde head of hair. “Thank you.”
Harper and Lacey were my bridemaids – dressed in cream and yellow, they both looked lovely too. Lacey grinned at me from across the table. She looked serene and happy and I had noticed she and Chett were getting along. I hadn't expected that. I was happy.
“Thank you, Lacey,” I said.
“Why?” She flushed, surprised.
“We wouldn't have met again if it hadn't been for your intervention.”
“Oh, that,” she smiled. “It's nothing.”
“No, it's not. It's wonderful. Thank you.”
We opened the dance-floor soon after that. I leaned against Drake and he smiled at me.
“I'm such an awful dancer,” he whispered down to me. I laughed.
“Drake, no you're not.”
“Yes, I am.”
We waltzed onto the floor. He danced beautifully. In the turns he held me close, his hand supporting my waist, and I felt as if I were floating in a heavenly sea.
“You're a wonderful dancer,” I whispered to him.
“You're a wonderful woman.”
I giggled and he kissed me. My body was starting to melt under his touch and I was grateful when, an hour later, our guests started to depart and we could make our way back to our apartment – we had moved into his apartment, the stylish one (that just needed some cleaning) with the lovely view of the skyline – when we got back home to Miami.
Inside, Drake turned to me, his hands on my shoulders.
“I love you,” he whispered. “You are so beautiful.” he laughed. “I almost don't want to undress you... I want this moment to be forever.”
I swallowed hard. He was crying and so was I. I still couldn't quite believe it. I was here with him and we were in our wedding things.
“I want that too,” I whispered. “It is forever. I'll never forget.”
“Mm,” he whispered. “Me too.”
After that, our bodies decided to follow their own decisions. I pressed myself against him and he held me close and I could feel the slow, deep throb of my longing as his arms wrapped round me, pressing me to his chest.
His hands reached up to my hair and lifted the veil and his lips devoured mine. I was almost panting with longing now as he slipped his hands down my back, feeling over the silk for the zipper of my dress.
“Come on,” he whispered.
We went into the bedroom together.
He kissed me again and then started to undo the zipper, inch by slow inch. He pushed me back onto the bed and I was shivering, like he was, as he slid the dress down my body and let it pool in a mass of satin around my feet.
“Ainsley,” he murmured.
“Drake.”
He sat back and looked at me in my new negligee. I felt a slow blush creep over my face as I saw his admiring stare linger on my breasts in their tight bra, moving down to my waist and to the suspender belt and stockings. He was clearly aroused and my heart beat faster as he bit his lip.
“You are so beautiful,” he said.
“You're so gorgeous,” I countered. With the dim light from the lamps on his dark hair and the crisp white shirt enhancing the bulge and curve of his shoulders and those strong biceps and chest, he was stunning.
I felt my body responding to the sight of him and then he was bending down, slowly unclasping my bra.
He gently bit my nipples and I cried out as he touched and thumbed them, tracing raw fire through my body as his hands and mouth drew every nerve in them to breaking point.
I was laughing and groaning with desire as he buried his face between them and then stripped off all my underwear, working the stockings down my legs with slow precision.
When he had me undressed h
e looked down at me.
“You're so exciting,” he murmured. “I don't know what to do first.”
My throat was tight with longing. “Well, I want to undress you first,” I said quickly.
He chuckled. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
I felt my face flush as I tenderly fumbled with his buttons, drawing that pristine white shirt from his finely-sculpted muscles.
When he was naked I ran my hands down his back, flattening out the rippled cords of muscle down his back.
“Mm.” He growled against my neck as he bent to kiss me. “That's nice and it gives me an idea.”
“Oh?”
He gently pushed me onto my back and then rolled me over, my body moving with his slow insistent touch.
“Drake, I...”
“I want to spoil you,” he said. His hands moved over my body, strong and masterful and drawing out all of the tension as he kneaded and stroked.
I was completely melted when he rolled me over again, my senses swimming in a sweet sleepiness that smelled of the rose scent in the air from the bedside candles.
He smiled down at me.
“You look so beautiful,” he said.
“You too,” I said, gently reaching for the swollen erection that pressed almost flat against him.
He gasped and then knelt between my thighs.
“Yes?” he murmured as he ran a gentle finger between my legs, checking I was ready. I was so ready for him.
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes as he pushed into me, parting my legs to admit him right inside me. He filled me and I felt fulfilled as I never had before. He pulled out again, changing the angle, and then again so that he rubbed all the special places inside me as he thrust and then withdrew and thrust.
“Oh!”
I couldn't hold in my cries of pleasure as the sweet, ticklish, melting sensation that built in me as he rubbed on me and thrust in me started to grow and build and gather into the sweetest climax ever.
I cried out as he pushed in fully and then, as I lay there, my orgasm welling up, he pushed into me faster and faster and then he was thrusting and pushing and crying out too.
He lay on my chest and I held him and knew I was happier than I had ever been in my life.
EPILOGUE
Eight months later, I lay in my bed in his apartment – our apartment – and looked out through the big glass uncovered window and out over the city. It was evening and I was tired but so, so happy.
I looked down into my arms. Our son lay on my chest. His small, wrinkled face was already the most precious thing I had ever seen. His eyes were closed, one tiny fist loosely curled near his face in sleep.
“Is he awake?” Drake asked. He had barely raised his voice above a whisper. He tiptoed to our bed, and sat down beside me.
“He's sleeping,” I whispered.
“Can I see him?”
“Sure,” I said. I passed him gently across, not wanting to wake him.
He looked down at him with wonder. The same wonder that had crossed his face when he was in hospital the day our son was born. He held him to his chest.
“So, Jay,” he whispered to him. “How are you today? Beautiful boy?”
I smiled. Seeing them together was so sweet it made me feel as if my heart was melting. He was so gentle with Jay. His finger gently stroked the soft down of his hair and then withdrew. The baby stirred and then settled. I thought I could see the faintest trace of my father, but largely Jay looked exactly like his father. He was like Drake.
“He's got your nose,” I said with a smile. “And your chin.”
“He'll get your character then,” he promised. “Lucky guy.”
I smiled. “He'll be lucky if he's like you,” I said, my heart filled with pride, “Man of the Year.”
He blushed. “Oh, you.”
He had been nominated for an award when it was spread around – as rumor only – that he was the one who had exposed Steelcore and brought about their sudden massive reforms in their mining-practice. He had refused the award, in honor of his agreement with them not to publicize his role in their downfall. I thought it was very decent of him. But for me, he was the man of the year.
“You are,” I insisted.
“Maybe to you, my dear.”
I chuckled and he kissed me then gently put our baby in his own bed, the small white wickerwork cot that stood beside our bed.
“We should have shared the nomination,” he said softly. “You made me want to carry on even when I thought I couldn't anymore.”
I shook my head. “You did it all by yourself, dearest,” I said. “Principled, smart, kind...” I kissed him every time I said it and he was giggling and then fended me off, both of us shushing each other with a bright smile as Jay stirred in his cot.
“You shouldn't say things like that,” he said ruefully.
“Why?” I asked as he pushed me back onto the pillows, my body already igniting.
“Because, if you do, I'll be forced to repeat it,” he said, kissing my hair and then moving lower. “And tell you that you are the most brave, sweetest, supportive, clever, kind, caring...”
With each word he kissed me on face, neck and chest and by the time he was on the fifth word I was already helpless with giggles, his lips teasing every sensitive spot.
“Oh! Drake! Stop...”
He laughed and then leaned back, grinning down at me where I lay on my back, looking up at the ceiling and then with my eyes on him.
“I love you,” I said, reaching for him.
“I love you, too, dearest,” he whispered. “Always and with all of me.”
I nodded. I reached for him and my arms wrapped around him and held him close. My body was throbbing with the intensity of my emotions, my heart soft with love as I reached up to kiss his lips.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Me too. I love you. Always, and with all of me. Forever.”
We kissed.
Outside the sun touched the clouds with red and gold, a sweet autumn sunset. Inside, I was warm and safe and loved. And so, so happy.
The End
UNEXPECTED: A SECRET BABY ROMNACE
CHAPTER ONE
Caleigh
I’ll never make it there in time, and then Dominic will dock me a full hour’s pay for being ten minutes late. I can’t believe my stupid alarm didn’t go off.
Oh. Maybe I should try charging my phone so the alarm will work and stuff. Shit. My fault.
I scramble into my uniform and pull my blond hair into a high ponytail. I love my long hair, but customers don’t exactly want long hair in their food. I always feel like wearing it in a bun would mean I’m either a ballerina (I’m not) or that I’m old (I’m twenty-two). So ponytail it is. I nearly crash into my roommate, Amy, as I rush down the stairs from our apartment. Amy works nights at a nursing home, so she’s just now coming home. We mostly pass each other in the hall like this.
“Please tell me you’re running late because you hooked up.”
“Forgot to plug in my phone.”
“Come on, Caleigh. Give me some hope—pretend you went out and picked up a hot guy.”
“I stayed up bingeing season one of This Is Us.”
“Oh my God, you’re killing me. I never meet any guys under the age of eighty because of where I work, but you’re with the public all day. Pick up a guy once in a while. Let me live vicariously through you.”
“Trust me, the guys I meet at the restaurant—they try to grab my ass and then don’t leave a tip,” I told her. “I gotta run. Sweet dreams!”
I ran to the bus stop and barely made it. I was at work only three minutes late. I tied my apron on and went to unload the dishwasher and polish the water glasses. When Dominic came in, he was talking on the phone and barely noticed me. The kitchen was crowded, which gave me some cover. I let myself relax a little and kept busy.
“Hey, North,” my boss said, “go change the specials. We’re doing Bucatini all’Amatriciana.”
I dried my hands and got the glass chalk out of a drawer. I love doing the lettering on the specials board. I chose orange for the letters because it’s a fiery sauce, and a little red for a drop shadow on the curls. I used to get this excited about sketching skirts in my intro fashion class, but that was before everything went to hell and the highlight of my week became writing the name of a pasta special on a notice board by a door.
I would have graduated a month from now, would have had my degree if everything hadn’t gone wrong. I was three semesters in when a drunk driver crossed the center line and took out my parents and my little brother on a Sunday night. They’d taken Josh to see a monster truck show because he had turned twelve the week before. They were just driving home, not hurting anybody, and some jackass who’d downed too much cheap booze totaled their Jeep and my life right along with it. I try not to think about school too much, the classes I had to drop, and the credit card debt they had, which I hadn’t known about—the debt that had eaten up their life insurance payoff and then some.
Just for the fun of it, I put an extra swirl at the end of the A on Amatriciana, giving some flair to a task that was the closest I came to a creative outlet these days. I reluctantly capped the orange and started the delicate business of adding a highlight here, a drop shadow there, a small flourish beneath the price. I stepped back, pleased with my work.