by Scott, S. L.
A smirk tips the right side of her lips. This time she asks, “Promise?”
“I promise.” With my hand still in her hair, I walk her backward to the bed. “By making you feel so good.” I kneel before her, anchoring one of her knees over my shoulder as I lean in to taste her.
Her hands hold my shoulders, but when her leg begins to wobble, I move forward to lay her on the bed. Then I put both legs over my shoulders and dive back in, licking her until her thighs clench around my head.
My dick throbs against the mattress as I bend over and tongue fuck her until she’s ready for me. “I want you.” Her fingers pull at my hair. So wet. So needy.
I stand, running my hand over my length a few times. “I’m not going to last.” Moving her feet apart, I align myself, and push in a little at a time, allowing us both to adjust to the heat, the connection, the sensation of being one with her again.
Her breath thrusts from her lungs as her fingers curl around the blanket at her sides. Her head tilts back, warmth blooming from her center and shooting to the core of me. Deep inside, I hold still while my mind tries to find logic where there is none. I’ve never known this bliss with anyone else, because our attraction is carnal and unique. My breath never catches up, so I hold it, letting the sensations take over.
Being inside her again makes me understand that the lonely nights were worth it. She feels so good, too good to remain still for much longer. I pull back and push in again and then again. Soon, I’m thrusting not thinking about her needs or her release.
But she feels so fucking good I continue pushing for my own needs, my own release. When I watch her, I see how her body bends and moves, opens and accepts me, yearns for me. Like I yearn for her.
Hovering over her, I rest my arms on either side of her. “Do you like this, sunshine?”
As if she’s sacrificing a part of herself, she closes her eyes, and whispers, “I do.”
I do.
The vow just about kills me.
“Good.” I keep fucking her, one hand anchored on the bed and the other holding her hip. Making love, we push through the tenderness that brought us together and fuck our way through the desperation and need until her body pulses around me and I’m releasing inside her.
“Oh God,” comes from her lips followed by, “Dave.”
Thank fuck. She doesn’t see anything but the real me. I lose the steady control I was trying to hold on to, frantic to expend every last drop of energy from my body. I’m exhausted, and my mind floats free.
Time slows as our breathing regulates to match. Lying flat against the mattress, she turns her head to find me lying next to her. Looking at me through half-mast eyelids, she reaches over and touches my cheek. “I’ve missed you. Dave.”
“I’ve missed you so much, Meadow.” More than you could ever know.
21
Ridge
“Tell me again why we’re not doing this every fucking day of our lives?”
“That good, huh?” Although her mouth is full, she smiles, trying to keep her lips together. She’s adorable, and food makes her happy. I make a mental note of that tidbit.
“Better than good.”
“The donuts or the sex? I’m confused,” she says, licking the corner of her mouth. We’re both covered in pieces of glaze that have fallen from the sweet dough.
“The sex.”
Tilting her head up, she says, “It’s because it’s been so long.”
“No,” I reply, rubbing her bare back. “It’s because we’re good together. We always were. One day you’ll realize that chemistry like ours is hard to find.” I finish off another donut, then lean in to lick sugar glaze from her chest.
“Maybe.” She doesn’t say more, conflicted between what she wants and what she thinks she needs. I’ve been there. I went with what I thought I needed—my ex—and later realized she wasn’t what I even wanted. I learned the hard way, of course, and maybe that’s the only way Meadow will learn that lesson as well.
Sometimes I wonder why I can’t seem to get her out of my system. In the aftermath of sex is probably not the best time to try to see things clearly.
Meadow fills the holes that others have left behind, the voids that fame leave inside. The fame I never wanted. I wanted to be a working musician.
Answers come easy. I don’t want simple. That’s boring. I like Meadow’s complications and her quirks. She makes me feel so much at once—unlike anyone else ever has—but at ease just as equally. Whole and at peace. In the crazy life I lead, she seems to be all I need.
I may have met Meadow when my star was already on the rise, but she never had an interest in that side of my life. Fame doesn’t impress her. Money that’s spent frivolously doesn’t attract her.
Her breathing evens, so I close my eyes, wanting mine to find that same comfort at night. Turning off my mind, I rest my worries about what will happen tomorrow and try to savor tonight.
* * *
The bed is empty next to me when I wake up. Feels like every other morning of my life, and I hate it. “Meadow?”
She’s in the doorway with her hand on her hip, messy hair, my T-shirt covering up all the good stuff . . . Well, almost all of it. She’s wearing that sexy smirk that got me wound up last night. “What is it, rock star?”
“Come give me a kiss.”
With a big smile, she runs and jumps on the bed next to me. Quickly straddling me, she tilts her head to the side, and says, “Where do you want it?”
Flipping her down onto her back, I maneuver between her legs, and make sure she feels every inch of how happy I am to see her this morning. “Anywhere you might be so inclined to lay those lips, sweetheart.”
Gently running her fingertips over my lips, she says, “I think I’ll start here,” and rises to kiss me. With her hands pushing against my chest, I fall back to the mattress, letting her control the pace and position. Leaning over me, she slides her hand under the covers. The heat of her touch engulfs another part of me. “Then I’ll move down there.”
When her mouth replaces her hand, I sink into the mattress, getting lost in the bliss of her kiss, quickly bringing me to teeter at the edge.
I weave my fingers into her hair when I reach the brink of orgasm. As I lift her up, her eyes meet mine, questions of why I’m stopping her filling the irises. “C’mere.”
“You sure?” she asks.
“I’m sure.” When she falls against my side, her hair fans across the pillow and covers my face. “I want to be inside you.” I push the strands aside and roll on top of her again.
“You were,” she says with the sweetest smile.
“I want to be inside you and see your eyes.”
Cupping my face, she whispers, “Then what are you waiting for?”
Our clothes fly off and we’re back in the same position. This time I hold my chest above her but press the tip between her legs. “Do you have to be anywhere this morning?”
I love the slow joy that works its way in to the corners of her mouth, spreading like wildfire against her slightly swollen lips. When she bites her lower one, teasing me, she stares into my eyes and tightens her arms around my neck. “I have a little time.”
“I should warn you.” Resting up on my elbows, I scrape across my bottom lip with my thumb, feeling so damn lucky to be here.
“About?”
“This isn’t going to be rough, and I’m not going to rush. This isn’t about desperation or need. This is about you and me and how every time we’re together, something incredible happens. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. We fit, Meadow. When you walk out of this room, you’ll remember every inch and minute we spent together.” I may not be rushing, but I’m still hot for her. I kiss her, and that kiss leads to everything more.
* * *
Any excuse to convince her to stick around has been used.
“It’s Stella’s wedding day. I have to be there for her.”
Selfishly, I want her here for me.
Wearing one of my T-shirts th
at swallows her whole, she kisses me one last time. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
She’s asking when she never has to worry. “I’ll see you later.”
With her dress draped over her arm and her shoes in her hands, she opens the door and blows me a kiss. Neither of us knows what to say, so we don’t. She slips out the door, and I’m left staring at the back of it, stupidly wishing it would open and she’d come back to me.
Logically, I know she can’t. It’s Stella’s wedding day, but damn if I’m not jealous of anyone who gets to spend their day with her. Instead of moaning about her leaving, I get up and shower, then head down to the main house for food. It’s been a few hours since I found donuts on the counter. The workout we did all night has left me starving and needing replenishment.
Darcy sits at the counter. “Good morning,” she says with that same canary smile.
“It is a good morning.” I work my way around the counter to pour a cup of coffee. Holding up the pot, I ask, “Coffee?”
“I’ll take a top up.”
I fill her mug and then my own. Grabbing a plate, I start loading it with food from the platters covering the long island bar—eggs, bacon, and fruit.
Sitting on a barstool, she pushes her plate away and rubs her stomach. “This is quite amazing. This place. The food. The drinks. Anything you need, you can have here.”
I nod, feeling like she’s going somewhere with this lead-in. “Paradise.”
“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?”
My gaze shoots up. Obviously, she means Meadow, but since I’m not sure where she’s going with this, I play dumb. “Hurt her?”
She cocks an eyebrow, not letting me off the hook. “You know what I’m saying. Meadow acts tough, but she’s soft inside. She hasn’t developed her stiff upper lip.”
“I hope she doesn’t.”
That makes Darcy smile. “Me either.” The lightness lifts from her tone as she eyes me up. “We don’t know each other at all, and although I’ve read up on you online, she’s quite vulnerable to you.”
Vulnerable is not something I think of when I think of Meadow. Guarded. Protective of her heart. Giving. Sensitive. Sweet. Stubborn . . . Vulnerable. She has that wall around her, but the few times I’ve gotten a peek on the other side, I realize she is vulnerable. “I would never hurt her.”
“On purpose.”
“Yes, on purpose or otherwise, if I can help it.”
She stands and taps the counter. “Good.”
As she walks out, I say, “Good talk. Good talk.”
The door closes, and I stand there staring at my plate. I would never hurt Meadow. If anything, I’ve set myself up to be hurt. I’m the one who is vulnerable to that gorgeous woman.
Meadow and I have been around this block before. Not full-on, but for us both to have a little hesitancy with the excitement. When she said I could have her for the night, did she really only mean the one night?
Laird and Tommy walk in right when I’m about to toss away my food. “Brah, we’re heading out for a surf. Come with?”
“Yeah, I think I will.” Surfing is not something I’ve done but twice before when Laird convinced me to go with him in San Diego. That water was fucking cold, and you couldn’t see for shit what was beneath you.
Hawaii has clear blue ocean, and the water’s warm. Time to lose myself in something other than Meadow for a while.
* * *
My back is scraped up from hitting the rocks, bruises along the back of my arms. Probably not my best idea considering my body is necessary to perform and we have a show in a week’s time.
Sitting on my board, my feet dangle in the water. Laird paddles up and says, “Taking a breather or waiting for a wave?”
“Breather. This is tough, man.”
“A great workout. Keeps me in shape enough to play a long set on a good night.”
Holding my arm up, I say, “This bitch burns.”
“Ich. That looks rough. Aloe will heal that. Nature’s medicine.”
Sometimes I forget he’s so at one with the ocean and the surf scene when he’s ripping hard chords on the guitar on stage. “What happened to Tommy?”
“He and Shane threw in the towel an hour in.”
“I’m throwing it in now and taking the next wave.”
He looks around to find the sun. “It’s almost three. Wedding’s at four. We should head in. You hit it first. I’ll take up the tail.”
Looking around, the water can’t be more flat. “Fuck. We might have to paddle in.”
“Just wait a few. There are waves on the horizon. They’ll be here soon.” He floats next to me, sitting on top of his board, waiting. “So Meadow, huh?”
“Yeah. Meadow.” I glance over at him, but don’t elaborate. I’m not surprised he picked up on it really. He’s observant.
“She’s hot.”
“She is.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“Not much to say.”
“Seems like there was more than you pretend.”
“Not pretending. Taking things slow, like a snail’s pace.”
I catch him looking at me. “That’s cool.” He says, “Wave’s coming. It’s now or never.”
“Now or never.” Taking off as fast as I can, I start paddling, and hope I don’t wipe out. Story of my life.
22
Ridge
Alfie makes his way down the aisle, looking for Hannah, who he finds sitting with Violet behind Meadow up front. The kid makes his mom proud, standing patiently next to Rivers.
When Rivers and Stella changed their minds at the last minute and went from all the stuffy traditions to what felt right for them, the location also changed. The large outdoor pavilion became only the site for the reception. The wedding was moved to the beach.
Under a clear blue sky, Jet walks down a petal path in the sand with the beautiful bride on his arm. The sound of sniffles fills the air, and I find Meadow with tears in her eyes as she watches her sister.
The skirt of the pink dress flows in the breeze, a few strands of her hair blowing across her face. I should be watching the bride or listening to what’s being said, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off my personal sunshine.
I was running late after surfing. Rushing over here, I wasn’t sure where to sit, so Marisol guided me to this side of the aisle and the ceremony began, so I stayed. I regret it now. The distance between Meadow and me is too far and too tenuous.
When Stella and Jet pass and everyone remains standing, I dash out the side and walk the long way around behind the other guests to stand at the end of Meadow’s row. Darcy’s smile is wide and knowing as if we’re in on the same plan. She moves down two seats, freeing the seat next to Meadow, and I slip into the spot.
With her gaze still focused on the couple in front, Meadow angles her body, opening for me when she feels me next to her. A smile tickles her lips, but then she sniffles again, looking down as though she’s embarrassed to be crying on this beautiful day. I slip my hand around hers and hold it, her softness against the roughness of mine. So much like who we are as people and the lives we lead.
Those walls she’s been trying so hard to maintain protect that heart of hers, but what she doesn’t realize is that I have mine on the line too. While we listen to the vows and watch the exchange of rings, I can’t help but wonder about my own destiny.
A squeeze of her fingers around mine causes me to look at her, the view I really wanted all along. Touching her collarbone, I run my finger over her shoulder and down her arm until we’re holding hands again. I could get lost in her again, but I won’t make this about us. We have time.
Rivers kisses his wife, and the crowd goes wild. Even though it’s not a show for the fans in attendance, I imagine it’s still the most important time he’s ever stood center stage. Stella’s never looked happier, and Rivers looks as if he just won the fucking lottery.
He sweeps her off her feet and carries her down the aisle.
She tosses her bouquet over her head, and it lands at Meadow’s feet. No one makes a move, so I nudge Meadow, and say, “I’m not saying I’m superstitious or anything, but I think you’re supposed to pick it up.”
Looking up at me with the flowers in hands, she asks, “Superstition or tradition?”
“Same thing, right?”
“Kind of.” She holds her nose to a deep pink flower and closes her eyes.
Marisol comes down the aisle, directing us to the reception. I got a dirty look when I left my seat earlier, but what Marisol thinks of me is none of my business. Now Meadow, on the other hand . . . I give a whole lot of fucks when it comes to her.
Holding my arm out, Meadow takes it. Darcy has walked ahead, joining the rest of the guests that include all the members of The Resistance and their significant others, Rivers’s brothers and their families, Tommy, and the members of Faris Wheel. The Resistance has a show in New York tomorrow, but detoured out of their way to be here for this special day. Three bands, but one when it comes to family.
Just outside the pavilion, I stop Meadow from going in before she gets swept away into the party. The myriad of colors that makes up her hair—blond and light brown, natural reds, and the darker strands that never seem to catch the light are highlighted by the sun as it sets into the ocean—is pulled back with loose strands that hang down, framing her pretty face. She steals my breath, like I’m realizing she’s stolen my heart.
Seems no matter how much time has passed, Meadow Soleil stays with me—if not physically, then in spirit. Standing here with her, looking in her lively green eyes under this golden Hawaiian sky, I say, “Dance with me.”
Emotions flicker through her eyes, weaving their way into her expression, but I struggle to read at such a fast pace. The tips of her fingers reach my cheek, and I lean into her touch. “I’d be honored.”
I take the bouquet and set it aside before holding her hand in the air and rest my other on her hip. We start to sway just as the music from the reception begins. “My mother used to dance with me. Just like this. She told me I needed to know how to dance so one day I could dance with the woman I . . .”