Keep Us: A Grayson Holiday Novella (The Grayson Sibling #3)

by Faith Andrews

  While I won’t deny I’m anxious about tonight for a multitude of reasons, I’m still looking forward to a good time. I rustle a few last minute scenarios in my head that might help Tessa feel less like a mommy with another bun in the oven and more like my hot, fun, lively escort to this wedding. “You sure you don’t want me to call Trish to tag along and help us with Luca?”

  “I already did.” She frowns and slumps against me. “Busy having fun. Like everyone else will be tonight.”

  “Hey,” I interrupt her pity party. “We’ll have fun.”

  “Says the man who can still actually drink his champagne tonight.”

  Oh, shit. I almost forgot she can’t drink. “How about we make a deal?”

  “Enlighten me.” Who the hell is this snarky, gloomy version of my wife and what has she done with the real one?

  I brush off her cynicism and surprise even myself with what comes next. “Since you can’t drink, I won’t either. Not one single ounce. We’ll be sober-for-a-cause together.”

  “And what exactly is this cause?”

  “The knocked up and miserable cause. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right?” I wiggle my brows to try and make light of the situation. It doesn’t work.

  Tessa’s face drops as she pouts. “So you do think I’m acting as miserable as I feel? God, I’m the worst! I’m so sorry, Marcus. I never meant to put a damper on any of this. I’m just so—”

  Pregnant. She’s pregnant and not herself and there’s nothing she can do about it. I can’t fault her for it. I can only make her feel better. That’s my job, isn’t it?

  “Stop right there,” I intervene as I rub the nape of her neck. “No apologizing. I’ve been working like crazy, you’ve been feeling like crap. Add to that the constant commotion of the holidays—I get it. You’re pregnant and miserable. There’s no crime in refusing to be all I love everything about being pregnant. It can’t be easy, Tess. Can you imagine if it were me?”

  That gets me an adorable smirk and an exaggerated arched brow.

  “Exactly. I’d be the whiniest bitch in the fucking world. So, don’t apologize for anything. We’re going to this party, dressed to impress, ready to celebrate Dad and Hannah—who I still don’t have the best read on yet, by the way—and it’s gonna be a blast. Like New Year’s Eve always should be. Get it? Got it? Good?” I wait for her to agree, with my nose inches from hers.

  “Well, when you put it like that,” she finally says, dipping in for a kiss.

  And just like that my pretty girl is back. “I love you, Tessa Grayson. You know that, right?”

  She smiles and bats her eyes. “I’ve never doubted it for a second. I love you too. Thank you for putting up with me.”

  “Pssh! You can’t be serious. Even though you’ve felt crappy this past month or so with all your overactive hormones, you’re the one who deserves the medal for putting up with me.”

  She tugs at my shirt collar and winks. “Sounds like there’s a New Year’s resolution in the making there.”

  I lean in to nibble her ear and joyful laughter erupts from her red-stained lips. “The only resolution I’m making is to get me a little more of this next year.” I paw at her curves, accentuated beautifully by the black lace number she bought for the wedding.

  “Relentless. It should be your middle name,” she jokes with a smile.

  “Gorgeous. That should be yours.”

  She bends with my touch, deepening our kiss and driving me wild. I take advantage of my wife’s good mood and our son’s long nap. Kneeling on the floor in front of the bed, I hike Tessa’s dress up to her thighs and lick my way up her legs, following the delicious scent of her arousal. It’s somehow sweeter now that she’s pregnant.

  “Now? Seriously? We have to be on the dinner boat in—”

  “Shhh. There’s always time for this, pretty girl. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.”

  But it’s me who relishes in the ride of my life. Her hips jerk forward each time my tongue pushes deeper. Her soaked pussy bucks against my mouth; my lips suck every drop of her sweet, syrupy release. I may not be able to imbibe on a certain addicting liquid tonight, but this will definitely quench my thirst for a while.

  Beck

  If at all possible, Riley’s body became even more insane since having Claire. She’s still slim and sleek, but now her curves are fucking addicting. I love to sink my fingers into the flesh of her perfectly rounded ass when we fuck. She likes it rough—always did—but now every time I slap her ass, she screams for more. I’ve heard them say that sex fizzles out after you’re married. Whoever “them” is, is an asshole.

  “Yes, baby! Yes! Harder.”

  My hand flies over her mouth to keep her quiet. Claire’s napping in the other room and she usually sleeps like the dead, but I don’t want to risk finishing this before we actually . . . finish. I’m certainly no teenager, but with Riles I could go all night.

  But we don’t have all night, so I thrust in and out of her warmth as she claws at my back. My own fingers dig into her ass again. At this rate we’ll be bruised, but it’ll be totally fucking worth it.

  After a few deep plunges, Riley’s body stiffens, her pussy clenches my cock and milks it dry. We lay there catching our breaths in between mewls and moans.

  “And that’s how everyone should ring in the fucking New Year!” Her breathless proclamation makes me chuckle.

  “Glad we could start things off right.” I spring off the bed then lean down to tap a kiss on Riley’s nose.

  “The year’s not over yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself. That counts toward this year.”

  “What, are you keeping a sex tally, or something? ’Cause if you are, sweet thing, you’re sure to be out of numbers.”

  Her head falls back, long raven-colored hair cascading down her bare back. “We do fuck a lot, don’t we? Even if we have spent the better part of this year apart.”

  She doesn’t have to remind me. In fact, I hate that she does. We’ve spent too much of it on opposite ends of the country, or the city for that matter. If I’m not at the firehouse, she’s at the office or away on business. It seems this was the year of conflicting schedules. I’d like to fix that. “Yeah, about that.”

  “What? All the fucking?”

  “No. That, my beautiful girl, is perfect. I’m talking about putting an end to all this distance. I’ve missed you, Ry.”

  “Aw, B. I’ve missed you too.” She scoots across the bed on her knees. She’s still gloriously naked, her skin flushed from our lovemaking, nipples tight at attention. I want to go in for round two, but we’ll wind up late for her father’s wedding.

  “Get dressed,” I snap as I ignore the blood pumping to my dick—again.

  I feel her presence behind me before she even touches me. With slow, languid motions, she caresses my arms, my cock now throbbing. “Ry, come on. I’d love to bury myself inside you again. But we have to get ready and you’re avoiding the topic. I was telling you how much I miss you. Don’t try to divert my attention by flaunting those sexy fucking tits.”

  I untangle myself from her grip and make my way to the closet.

  Her feet pad against the carpet as she follows me. “If my tits can get me out of being reprimanded, then by all means, I’m gonna shake what my momma gave me.”

  “I’m not reprimanding you. I’m simply telling you this year was a little much. Don’t you think?”

  I can’t ignore the long huff that leaks from her lips. Feisty Riley is out to play. “Yes, I wish we didn’t have to be apart as much as we were, but no, I don’t agree that it was too much. I love what I do, B. I don’t intend to give it up. I thought we talked about this. You know how much my career means to me.”

  Same fight every time. I hope this is something that won’t be reappearing in the New Year. “I do know. I get it. Forget I said anything. Now’s not the time.” Sue me if I sound a little clipped. I’m more than clipped, I’m fucking frustrated. I don’t expect her to quit her job and
become a barefoot and pregnant housewife, but I do wish she invested as much time in Claire and me as she does her business.

  “Don’t be mad, Beck. I’m sorry.” She half means it because she knows I can’t stay mad at her, and it’s really a dick move of me to make her apologize for being successful.

  Before I can answer, Riley’s phone rings. The loud ringtone instantly wakes Claire from her nap. She never wakes up quietly either—always a dramatic sob fest. Today, I welcome it so we can put this conversation on the back burner.

  “I’ll get Claire. You get the phone,” I say. But she doesn’t hear me because she’s already deep in conversation on her cell.

  I jet into my daughter’s room and creep up to her crib. “Hey, little mama. Have a good nap?”

  Claire whines, rubbing her eyes. “Out, Daddy.”

  I do as I’m told—seems I take lots of orders from women these days—and proceed to coax my daughter out of her after-nap grogginess to get her ready for her grandpa’s big day.

  When I return to our bedroom with Claire in my arms, dressed in the beautiful white dress Hannah sent over for her to wear, Riley’s zipping up her gown and applying makeup at the speed of light. “What’s the rush? And look how gorgeous our girl looks.”

  Riley spins around to take a look at our daughter and smiles brightly. “Wow! Look at you, Claire Bear. You’re too pretty for words.”

  “Thanks, Mommy.” Claire beams as she rocks from side to side.

  Kissing our daughter on the cheek, Riley rises and narrows her gaze on me. “B, I have to meet Marcus. He can’t find the rings. Can you and Claire go with Tessa and Luca to the dock?” We both dart our attention to the clock on the nightstand.

  “We’re cutting it close, you know?”

  “Exactly. So why don’t you go ahead and I’ll take care of my numbskull brother before he ruins Dad’s whole day.” Riley’s brain’s going a mile a minute; I can tell. There’s no time to argue with her now. I know she wants the best for her father after so many years of being miserable and lonely.

  “You got it, sweet thing. Go do your thing.”

  We go our separate ways—again—on the supposition that we’ll be back in each other’s arms in less than thirty minutes.

  Yeah, or so we thought . . .

  Riley

  “I swear on everything good and holy, Marcus, I am going to kick your ass if we miss the ship’s departure. We can’t not be there!” My eyes practically twitch as I stare at the digital clock on Marcus’s dash.

  “Would you just shut it already? I’m driving as fast as I can. It wasn’t my bright idea to book a dinner cruise, in the city, on the biggest tourist night of the year.”

  “But it was your dumb idea to hide the rings so they wouldn’t get lost. And we both know how well that turned out.” Idiot forgot his own secret hiding spot. We had to turn the place upside down to finally find them in his sock drawer. Don’t know why we didn’t look there to begin with. Maybe because it was way too obvious.

  Marcus disrupts my mental berating with a question I didn’t expect. “What do you think of her, Ry? She good for him? You know, like, as good as Mom was?”

  Whoa. “No one will ever be as good as Mom, Marcus.”

  “I know that.” He shrugs, serious again. “But do you think he’s being too hasty? Irrational? I don’t know. I’m so bad at this shit, Ry. I want to be sure he’s making the right decision, and isn’t just lonely and marrying the first hot piece of ass who got his wanker working again.”

  “Ew! Marcus, really?”

  “See, I told you I’m no good at this.” He smirks and then slaps himself on the forehead.

  “You definitely don’t have a way with words, but if you can believe it, I understand what you mean.” Marcus and I have always been close, even back when he was an insufferable man-whore before Tessa came into the picture. When our mom died, our bond grew stronger because Dad became so closed off. We found a way to rely on each other—me as an older sister/caregiver who replaced the mom he missed; him protecting and loving me in a way my father was too weak to do once he lost his soul mate.

  “Well, then, stop beating around the bush. Tell me what you think of Hannah. Are you okay with this?”

  My knee bobs as I stare out the window at the stalled traffic. If something doesn’t give, we won’t have to worry about our feelings towards Hannah. Dad will wind up marrying her without either of his kids as witnesses. But I don’t want all the pressure of approval solely on me, so I poke for more of Marcus’s opinion before he forms one based on mine. “I’m okay if you’re okay. What do you think?”

  Thankfully, he doesn’t catch on to my use of reverse psychology and spills his guts. “If I’m being fucking honest—and I’m always honest as fuck—I actually really like her, Ry. I know we only met her, like what, seven days ago, but she’s pretty cool. She and Tessa have been talking a lot, mostly wedding planning stuff, but Tessa can’t stop raving about what a sweetheart she is. Hannah must’ve confided in her about how she and dad met on some dating site. Seems she’s a widow too. Even lost her husband to cancer like Mom died. Well, obviously not like Mom because it wasn’t breast cancer, but you know what I mean—”

  Marcus babbles on and on about all the things he’s learned about Hannah that I’ve yet to discover. I’m instantly jealous that she didn’t confide in me—her soon to be stepdaughter—about all this stuff. But, like Beck pointed out earlier, I haven’t been around as much as I should. The week after Christmas is always a busy week for clients because they all have holiday bonuses to blow and fresh decorating ideas for the New Year. I never imagined being successful at something I love would wind up being a cross to bear.

  “Are you even listening, Ry?”

  Shaking my head out of a fog, I nod. “Yes, I heard you. I think she sounds perfect for him. As long as he’s happy—and he obviously is or he wouldn’t be marrying her—then I’m happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for him. The two of us are married now with families of our own. It would be selfish if we disapproved of him moving on. Hannah’s all right in my book and I look forward to getting to know her better.” I make a mental note to block out a few days to spend with her after she and Dad get back from their honeymoon.

  “Wow, where’s the bitchy Riley I’ve come to accept as my sister? You’re totally becoming a softie. What the fuck happened to you?”

  “Claire and Beck happened to me.” I suddenly have a strong longing for my family. “And I can’t wait to see them, so would ya step on it?” I see the clearing ahead and press on Marcus’s knee to urge him to accelerate.

  One second we’re cruising and the next, the smell of burnt rubber engulfs my lungs, the abruptness of our stop jerks me forward, and the loud crunch of metal crushing metal infiltrates my subconscious.

  “Oh my God, Marcus!” I clutch my seat as everything around me seems to move in slow motion.

  This cannot be happening now!

  Tessa

  “Where are they, Beck? I’m starting to worry now. I’m beyond being pissed at them for being late. This is freaking me out. Marcus and Riley wouldn’t miss this even if they hated Hannah.” I shake Beck by his tuxedo clad arms. I realize I’m getting frantic, but what other explanation is there—other than a bad one—that my husband and his sister are nowhere to be found only seconds before this ship is scheduled to set sail?

  “Calm down. I’m sure it’s just traffic. Or maybe . . .” he muses.

  “Maybe what? What, Beck? We can’t stall any longer. These things can’t be postponed. There’s the Coast Guard and all those other nautical-ish authorities making sure these kinds of things run smoothly. And I will not stay on this ship and let it take off, or whatever it is a cruise ship does, while my husband is God knows where!” Now, that’s frantic.

  Beck scratches his scruffy head, huffing. “Riley was kind of pissed at me before she left. We got into it about her working so much. I kind of sounded like an old-fashioned prick, come to think of it.
You think she’d—?”

  “No, I don’t. And I certainly don’t think she’d take Marcus down with her. They know what this means to their father. And besides, Marcus and I have had our fair share of arguments over his career lately. He fights back—just like a Grayson is known to—but him not being here right now . . . this isn’t cool.”

  “Okay, so let’s think. At least the kids are preoccupied with their grandfather and the photographer. That’s one. But there’s no service, so we can’t make any calls to try and reach out to them. Maybe . . . maybe I can talk to the captain!” Beck paces the room, mumbling like a madman and then turns his attention back on me. “Uh, Tess, how does one go about asking the captain for more time?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to know? It’s not every day that I—ow,” I cry, my hand flying to my temple.

  “You okay?” Beck is at my side in an instant, his face tainted with worry and concern.

  “Just another migraine.” I breathe in and out, in hopes the pain will subside. “This baby is killing me.”

  “Here,” Beck offers, handing me the rest of his water bottle. “You can’t stress yourself out right now. It’s not good for the—”

  Oh, no! Not this again. “I know!” Blood curdles in my veins, and causes me to flip my lid. “I know this is no good for the baby, but for one goddamn second can someone, anyone, just worry about me and what all this stress and absence is doing to me? And you!” Realization sets in. “What about you? You’re telling me you don’t feel like the holidays flew by on borrowed time from our spouses? If I weren’t so worried about Marcus and Riley right now, I’d be fucking furious! I’ve about had it! I cannot spend another holiday without my husband, carrying this baby, and feeling like shit.” Unwanted tears gush from my eyes, my emotions on such high alert it’s not even funny. “So help me God, if he doesn’t show up in the next five minutes, I’m ordering that captain—wherever he is—to get on with the show and you, my lovely, sweet, understanding brother-in-law, will escort me down the aisle and be my date this New Year’s Eve. End. Of. Story.” Inhaling as steadily as I can without going into another tailspin, I appraise poor Beck.