More Than a Memory

by Marie James

  When she opens her eyes this time, the pain is gone, the doubt is nowhere to be found, and peace shines in the depths of her gorgeous blue eyes.

  “I’d love to be your birthday date to the party.”

  I smile from ear to ear and kiss her stupid.

  * * *

  Olivia’s lips find mine in the fragile glow of the early morning light. She wakes me with beseeching touches and greedy hands.

  “Mmmm,” I hum as her lips trail over my chin and her hands explore my stomach.

  My hands reach for her and I realize she stripped out of the clothes she was wearing when we fell asleep several hours ago when I only find exquisitely bare flesh.

  I raise my hips a few inches off the bed when her intentions to pull my boxers off are made known. Last night, this didn’t seem like a good idea, but early this morning, with her initiating, I couldn’t think of a better way to start the day. I close my eyes and let her hands roam all over my body, groaning when she intentionally avoids my cock.

  “Tease,” I mumble, but then gasp when hot, wet lips wrap around me. With wide eyes, I glance down at her. Even with me in her mouth, I register a devious little smirk.

  I want to believe she’s never done this before either. In my head, I’ve glorified her pureness, aiming to take every one of her firsts, but it becomes abundantly clear she either has experience or she’s an oral savant. Clutching her hair as a means to ground myself in the moment, I close my eyes again and take everything she’s offering.

  Short nails dig into my thigh as her tongue traces every pulsing vein in my erection. The scorching heat of her mouth combined with the cool air of the room bombards my senses. Her whimpering moans when she takes me into her throat an inch too far force a tingle in my blood that incites my need for release.

  “It’s too good, Liv. You’re going to make me come.” I attempt to shift my hips back while cupping her cheek to make her slow down, wanting it to last, never wanting to leave her mouth.

  Her tongue sweeps over the tip of my cock and slides down until it’s fluttering against my seizing sac.

  “That’s the whole point,” she coos before taking me in her mouth again.

  “Fuck,” I moan just as the first vibration of my orgasm hums through my body.

  She eagerly swallows and searches for more by sucking, stroking, and licking me, until the surfeit of sensation forces me to pull her off. Licking an escaped drop of cum from her lips, she smiles at me, as satisfied with herself as I am.

  She collapses beside me, and I flip on top of her the very next second.

  “Happy birthday,” she says as I push away a lock of hair hiding her face.

  “Birthday blowjobs are the best.” I cringe at my words when her face falls, realizing she thought she was the first one. Fuck, right now I wish this was the first time someone sucked me off on my birthday and regret the fact that it was something I sought out each year.

  She turns her head, breaking eye contact with me.

  “Jealous?” I ask playfully, hoping to turn this morning back around.

  I turn her head back to me, kissing her lips, grateful she hasn’t pushed me away.

  “So, I admit, it’s not my first, but I think starting a new tradition is in order.” Tilting my head down, I take one of her nipples into my mouth, feeling it furl against my tongue.

  “Yeah? What kind of tradition?” she asks, breathless, pushing more toward me when I feign pulling away.

  “This one,” I say, moving down her body and lashing my tongue against her clit.

  “I love traditions,” she says on a moan, jealousy and my stupidity forgotten.

  Chapter 39

  Olivia

  “I’ve already told you why,” Bryson says with a stupid smirk on his face as he puts the truck in park.

  “‘It’s my birthday and I get to do whatever I want all day long’ isn’t a good enough excuse to make me ‘do whatever you want’ for the entire day,” I chide. “You better be glad I love you.”

  Damn it. I twist my head to look out the window, hoping he takes it in the playful way I meant it.

  “You coming?” he asks, graciously ignoring my slip of the tongue.

  Looking over to find him holding out his hand, I slide across the seat and clasp it, allowing him to pull me out of the truck straight against his chest.

  “You haven’t changed your mind about the party, have you?” His eyes implore mine, searching for contrition. “I won’t force you to go.”

  I shake my head back and forth. “I won’t ask you to stay home.”

  “I would,” he confesses. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  “I will be uncomfortable, just like the first baseball practice with you, but I think it’s something I need to do. And going will make you happy.” I almost get lost in his dark eyes. “I want to make you happy.”

  He closes his eyes and presses a light kiss on my lips. “You do make me happy.”

  Guilt swarms in with the sudden need to apologize again for the way I treated him, but he doesn’t allow for it as he takes a step back and tugs me to the entrance of the Halloween costume shop.

  * * *

  “What are you doing here?” The annoyance in Bryson’s voice forces me to my feet and I walk closer to the open apartment door.

  A woman in an obscene she-devil costume stands on the threshold and I tilt my head at the familiarity, begging my heart to stay calm.

  “You weren’t invited,” he continues.

  “Happy birthday to you too, brother.”

  Emerson. Jesus, I feel like a psycho. Weeks ago, I would’ve slithered away and hid in my room from the pain, but today, I was ready to claw her damn eyes out when I thought it was Simone.

  I smile at Emerson as she walks past Bryson into the apartment. She pulls off her mask and sexy little devil horns, giving me a wink as Bryson closes the door a little too hard.

  “Happy birthday,” I whisper to her, then roll my lips between my teeth when I notice the almost sneer on Bryson’s face.

  “Thank you.” She plops down on the couch, but jumps up quickly, pulling her barbed tail out from under her. “Since it’s my birthday, I need you to do me a favor.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. We went shopping and to lunch once, and while I had a great time, we’re not on any level where I’d do favors for her.

  “You need to change. The party we’re going to…well, let’s just say it’s not that type of party.”

  I look down at my costume, smiling when Bryson walks up and wraps his arm around me.

  “Don’t let her change your mind, Liv. We’re adorable.”

  “This is a college party,” she argues, waving her hand up and down, indicating our costumes. “I totally get you being a cheeseburger—it’s okay for the guys to dress like idiots—but really, Olivia? French fries? Not even sexy French fries.”

  “It’s all they had left,” I explain.

  “At least take the tights off. Show a little leg and add more makeup,” she prods.

  “It’s cold as hell outside,” Bryson says, coming to my defense. “And she has a man. There’s no need for her to look like a slut. I should be convincing you to put more clothes on, Emmy. Half of your ass is hanging out.”

  “Perfect,” she says, standing from the couch. “Just the look I was going for. Everyone will notice me.”

  “You’ll probably get more attention than you can handle,” Bryson agrees. “Tonight was supposed to be about me and Liv, but now I have to worry about keeping guys off you.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” she says, patting him on the front of his cheeseburger costume. “I can handle myself.”

  Bryson helps me put on my jacket as best he can, and murmurs, “I can’t wait to eat your fries later.”

  I huff a laugh and follow Emerson out of the apartment.

  “Whoa,” Emerson sighs as we pull up to the party. “There have to be hundreds of people here.”

  Anxiety thrums through
my body and my hands start to tremble.

  “I’ll be with you every second,” Bryson assures me as he takes my hand and helps me out of the truck. “I’m not drinking and I’ll kick the ass of anyone who even glances your way.”

  “I doubt anyone is going to be looking at me,” I mutter, looking from side to side. Every woman here is dressed similarly to Emerson. It seems the less costume you have on, the better it’s received by the men in attendance. Who knew Tinker Bell could be so slutty? Though, I can admit Peter Pan looks great without a shirt on. Bryson growls, pulling me closer to his side.

  “And to think I was worried about the eyes wandering over you,” he whispers in my ear. His warm breath on my chilled skin heats more than my neck. “Should I take my shirt off?”

  I shake my head and grin. “I like your cheeseburger.”

  “I knew I should’ve gotten the fucking Tarzan costume. I’d freeze my nuts off all night if it meant your eyes stayed on me.”

  I turn in his embrace, both hands on his chest, fingers toying with the sesame seeds on his costume. “Jealous?”

  “Murderously so,” he confesses, kissing my lips.

  Public displays of affection generally aren’t my thing. Most everything Duncan and I did was accomplished in private, but I like that Bryson is so open about his claim over me. The world melts away as his lips ravage mine in full view of anyone who may look this way.

  “Can I be the pickle on the side of this insanely hot meal you guys have going on?”

  “Fuck off, Ashford,” Bryson says against my lips.

  “But seriously,” Liam continues, “maybe I can be the vanilla shake.”

  I turn my head and smile in his direction.

  “I’d give anything,” he whispers, turning his attention to the devil in red beside us, “anything for this Sataness to wrap her lips around my straw and suck.”

  Bryson tenses beside me, but Emerson beats him to the punch—literally. The slap registers in my ears as I see Liam grab his cheek before Emerson wanders off.

  “Jesus, that woman is hot,” Liam says, his eyes following her until the crowd swallows her up.

  “Calm down,” I say to Bryson, who’s seething beside me.

  “Olivia, you’re the most captivating order of fries I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Liam says.

  “You look fucking ridiculous,” Bryson huffs.

  There is so much truth to that statement. He’s wearing a black tank top, black pants—which are nothing unusual. It’s the strapped-on, bright red penis jutting from his crotch that is oddly hilarious and perfectly in character with Liam’s personality.

  “What exactly are you supposed to be?” I ask.

  He holds up several colorful rings. “Ring toss. Wanna play?”

  I shake my head, but have to grab hold of Bryson’s arm to keep him from punching his friend in the face.

  “I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.”

  He takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around me for a hug, and Bryson’s growl doesn’t go unnoticed.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Ollie,” he whispers in my ear. “Is he treating you right? Making you happy?”

  I nod against him, gripping the back of his shirt as emotion swells in my throat. Liam was one of Duncan’s close friends—another person who was there for me that I shoved away when my grief got too bad.

  “Your dick is poking me,” I joke, taking a step back, trying to ward off the melancholy threatening to ruin the evening.

  “I’ll kill you,” Bryson threatens as Liam reaches down and strokes his phallic Halloween costume.

  “I’ll share it with you, too,” he quips.

  Bryson wraps both of his arms around me, protecting me from the non-threat, claiming me as his own. I lean into his embrace, watching the slight nod of approval from Liam. It means more than he could ever imagine.

  “More for your sister then,” Liam says before bolting away from the ass beating Bryson so desperately wants to give him.

  “Such a fucking idiot,” he mumbles against my neck.

  “He’s really a great guy,” I argue. “He and Duncan got really close. Liam championed quite a few of the fundraisers that were held on campus the year Duncan was in attendance.”

  “Really?” he asks, his voice marked with disbelief.

  “Yep. I know it’s hard to believe, since he doesn’t seem to have a serious bone in his body. Duncan told them they weren’t necessary since his family didn’t need the money, but Liam insisted building awareness was just as important. He donated the money to St. Jude’s.”

  “That almost makes me feel guilty for the ass kicking he’ll get if he tries to mess with my sister.”

  I laugh and kiss his jaw. “You might as well track him down now, then. If he has his sights set on Emerson, you can bet it’s going to happen.”

  “Don’t ruin my night,” he pleads, attempting to smack my ass, but being hindered by the thickness of my fries. “Let’s go inside.”

  We make our way through the throngs of people, getting genuine compliments on our costumes from some as we pass. There are a few girls standing and talking in a small group on the porch, and one looks over at me with such longing on her face, it makes me want to grip Bryson closer—until I realize she’s freezing and her envious eyes are on my warm costume, not my man.

  I chuckle to myself as we cross into the house. Loud music washes over me as I scan the gyrating bodies on a makeshift dance floor taking up the entire living room.

  “Dance with me,” Bryson whispers in my ear, pulling me toward the crowd.

  I follow his lead, though we look like complete idiots. I can barely get my arms around his stacked lettuce, tomatoes, and double meat patties, and he seems to be having the same difficulty with my fried potato sticks.

  “We look ridiculous,” I mutter in his ear.

  “I wish we were home alone, naked, dancing like this. I can’t really show you my skills with all this shit between us.” He licks my neck and nips at my earlobe.

  “I’m well aware of your skills,” I pant as his mouth finds mine.

  * * *

  An hour later, I’m a sweaty mess. We’ve danced to every song that’s been played, only slowing for the occasional interruption from team members stopping by to tell Bryson happy birthday.

  “I’m going to find the restroom,” I tell him as he speaks to JJ.

  Saddened that Ainsley isn’t here, I make my way down the hall to the restroom, hopeful it’s empty. I turn my gaze away from the couple making out in the hallway, until a flash of red catches my eye. I’ll be damned if Emerson doesn’t have Liam pinned against the wall as they kiss and grope one another. I may have said Liam gets what he wants, but it seems Bryson’s twin has turned the tables.

  I smile, realizing who the aggressor in this situation is. Liam may have finally met his match.

  Chapter 40

  Bryson

  “This is my most favorite part of the day,” Olivia whispers, trying to get closer to me. “How long have you been awake?”

  Grazing a finger over my stomach, she glances up at me with a devilish look in her eyes.

  “Not long.” My voice cracks when her hand wanders lower. Pushing her hair off her shoulder, I run my fingers over the soft skin of her back.

  My need to be inside her is almost overwhelming, but I’ve vowed to let her lead the way, making her responsible for how far we go. Waking up each morning with her in my arms is amazing and absolute torture all rolled into one.

  “Spend the day with me?” I ask, reaching for her hand and bringing her fingertips to my lips.

  “Of course,” she agrees, then kisses my chest.

  I look down at her, my chest filled with more warmth than I know what to do with. This girl slays me. “I want to leave the apartment. Maybe head to the dog park, have lunch at the diner—you up for that?”

  “Sure,” she answers, and I don’t hear the annoyance in her voice that usually accompanies my requests to leave the apar
tment.

  “We need to get out of bed,” I tell her. “If I lay here much longer, I’ll never want to leave.”

  She nips the skin above my heart. “I like the idea of staying in bed all day. We can have a movie marathon, order pizza or something.”

  Groaning, I shift my weight from under her and sit on the edge of the bed. “Not the kind of marathon I’d want if I stayed in this bed all day.”

  “Hmmm,” she purrs, forcing me to look back at her.

  Man, is she beautiful. Laid out on her back, perky breasts exposed, dusky-rose nipples puckered and begging for attention. I pull the sheet from her body and stare down at her. White panties against her milky skin make for one hell of a sight.

  Leaning forward, I take one nipple in my mouth, tugging at it with my teeth until she whimpers a soft moan.

  “You think you can tempt me with this gorgeous body of yours?”

  She nods arrogantly, and she’s right. My cock is throbbing, begging to keep going. But staying inside all the time isn’t healthy for her. She may very well be using her nakedness for just that reason, and I’m not playing into her tricks…but God, how I want to be inside her.

  “Get dressed,” I say with a soft peck to her lips before walking out of the room, a victorious grin on my face.

  * * *

  “You seem happy today,” I say, reaching across the table and grabbing her hand.

  Her eyes dart from my contact to around the busy diner.

  Satisfied no one is paying attention to us, she looks back at me. “I have hope for the first time in a long time.”

  “Hope for what, beautiful?”

  She shakes her head and looks back down at our hands. “That things are getting better. That I can miss him without swimming in grief. That I can move on without feeling guilty one-hundred percent of the time.”

  “I hate that you feel it at all.” I swallow the thickness building in my throat. “You feel guilt over us…over me—what we’ve done?”