Embrace

by Fernandez, Michelle

  I sit up, grab Brody’s blue shirt he wore last night from the end of the bed and slip it on. I grab my phone to see the time. 8:12 a.m. It may feel like I’m on a mini vacation, but it’s Friday and I still need to get some work done.

  I call the office, answer a few emails, and then call Dylan to see if he needs anything from me before I see him at his surprise proposal to Phoebe.

  I look at the time again and got that all done in under forty-five minutes.

  A smile tugs at my mouth seeing the sunflowers and petals scattered all over the floor. Then it hits me . . . how did he know where my room was and how did he get in? Thinking back to the time he found me at the diner, then changed my battery. The man is full of surprises.

  He showed up last night, stood in the middle of my room as shadows danced against his body. Something changed between us as he explained it all. Why he ran away from California and wanted to start over, to find a new identity. Much like me.

  I make my way to the bathroom, tiptoeing between the flowers. I do my business and brush my teeth. As much as I want to keep Brody’s scent of sweat and cologne on my skin, I turn on the shower, stepping into the steam as the hot water pelts my skin.

  While rinsing the conditioner out of my hair, I hear the shower door slide open. A very handsome, sexy, and naked man steps into the shower. His mesmerizing brandy-colored eyes and his perfectly chiseled body speak a language my body understands.

  His hand grazes my wet skin. “Good morning, beautiful.”

  “How was your run?”

  “It was good until I realized how much I missed you. I thought about how stupid I was to leave you naked and alone this morning,” he murmurs as his eyes skim my nakedness.

  He’s standing under the large showerhead as the water runs down the length of his magnificent body. My fingernails trace his skin, starting from his broad shoulders, biceps, triceps, defined chest, his eight pack abs, and down the V where my hand meets his hard cock.

  He hisses, closes his eyes, and throws his head back as I cup his balls in my hand and fondle him.

  “I was gentle last night, but I don’t know if I can be right now,” he says, lifting his head and his eyes lock onto mine.

  “What’s stopping you?” I say coyly, then bite my bottom lip.

  A wickedly sexy smile tugs at his mouth. He grabs my ass, lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his torso. My back flattens against the cold tile and his warm chest presses against my breasts.

  He crashes his mouth onto mine, and this isn’t an ordinary kiss. This is a take-no-prisoners kiss as his palm slides up my spine and around my neck, bracing me to his mouth.

  Is this how it will be every time? The skin-to-skin contact initiating the full-blown inferno, making me want him more than I did the last time.

  “I’m going to take you hard and fast, baby.”

  I curl my hands around his neck and hold on tight as he slides into me. There is no longer a want, but a need built out of hunger and longing as he pistons his hips. His movements are fierce as our bodies collide and emotions explode, taking me to a level of bliss there are no words to describe.

  I angle my head, exposing my neck. His mouth and tongue caress the tender spot near my collarbone. Liquid desire flows through every fiber of my body and I feel alive.

  “This body is mine . . . you understand?” His gruff voice is possessive and my body obeys his every command.

  “Yes,” I say as my teeth graze the skin of his shoulders and the water sheaths our nakedness. “I’m yours.”

  There is something so raw and real with the water pelting our already slippery skin.

  It’s just us, vulnerable and naked.

  The passion is definite.

  I give and he takes.

  Sensory overload as the pleasure builds.

  My sensitive nipples rub against his chest.

  My fingers tangle in his wet hair.

  He exhales as I inhale, breathing each other in.

  “Don’t stop . . . right there,” I moan.

  He pulls out just a little and plunges back into me, the repeating motion leaves me breathless.

  His dick swells in my sex and pulses as our panting grows heavier.

  “Are you ready? I can’t hold out much longer,” he murmurs.

  I shift my slippery body and purposely clench my hold around his dick so he can satisfy the one spot yearning for his touch.

  Our ecstasy catapults into an explosion of fireworks.

  “Brody,” I cry his name as every coherent thought vanishes and echoes against the tiled walls.

  “Fuck, baby. I don’t think I will ever get enough of you.”

  His lips meet mine, giving me one more kiss before he slips out of me.

  Our heartbeats calm, our breathing labored as he steadies me on my feet and weak legs.

  “If this is your running routine every morning, sign me up, Reinhardt.”

  “I wanted you this morning. But I didn’t have the heart to wake you. So, I went for a run, hoping it would help expend all this pent-up sexual frustration.”

  “And thankfully it didn’t work.”

  * * *

  “So, tell me, Kansas, were you one of those little girls that planned their wedding, down to the details of your dress, the kind of flowers you’ll be carrying, and those bead things in your hair?” Brody asks as we sway side to side on the make-shift wooden dance floor in Dylan’s backyard.

  I glance over at my brother and Phoebe, his bride to be. They’re dancing under a string of lights, her back against Dylan’s front, his arms wrapped around her belly. The glow of pregnancy suits her and if she heard me say that, she’d disown me before she becomes my sister-in-law.

  Dylan’s surprise proposal was perfect. My brother got sappy as tears rolled down his face when Phoebe said yes. And I hope one day I will have that kind of proposal and a man like my brothers and Daddy who have shown me what true love is.

  “I have a book and everything,” I answer shyly with embarrassment.

  “A book, huh? Tell me about this book of yours.”

  “It’s more like a catalog. It has a few dresses that I have cut and glued together. Different flowers. Honeymoon destinations. Bridesmaid dresses . . . It even has the groom I want to marry.”

  Brody chuckles. “And who’s the lucky guy?”

  “It’s silly. Maybe I shouldn’t—‍”

  “Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad,” he teases.

  “He’s faceless.” I giggle. “It’s a headless tuxedo man. I have imagined him in many ways. Tall, short, blond, brunette, blue eyes, brown eyes . . . but I guess what it boils down to is how he treats me and how he makes me feel.”

  Brody kisses the top of my head and he pulls me closer to him. “I think that’s cute. Do you still have this book?”

  “Yes, as pathetic as that sounds.” I shrug and turn back to see Drake’s arm draped over Franny’s shoulder as they’re talking to Mama and Daddy. My heart swells looking around at all my favorite people. “I imagine my wedding with just my family and my two best friends as my maids of honor . . . during the sunset.”

  “Any place in particular?”

  “I have always wanted it on the beach, on a cliff of the Grand Canyon, or even at my parents’ ranch where they got married.”

  “And in this book, do the husband and wife have children?” Brody asks and his smile melts my heart. “Do you have pictures of them too?”

  I clear my throat and look away. With his fingers, he pulls my chin back to face him.

  “Yes,” I whisper, then stifle a giggle. “They’re headless too.”

  “Well, if we were to have children, they would have your eyes, the bluest of blues, like the crystal-clear oceans of Hawaii. And my hair, well, because I have great hair.” He chuckles.

  I slap his chest playfully and I am completely thrown back that he’s talking about children with me.

  “Oh, please. I’m the one with great hair,” I counter.

 
; “Okay, you’re right.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, his thumb slides down the line of my jaw, and goose bumps tingle down my spine. He lowers his head, and his lips barely brush my lips when a sudden tug at my dress catches my attention and Brody and I pull apart.

  “Auntie Lulu, it’s your turn now.” Susie, my niece, hands me a bouquet of dandelions.

  “My turn for what, Shorty?”

  “To get married, silly,” Susie says as she sways her flowery dress from side to side.

  “That’s not going to happen anytime soon,” I tell her, straightening one of her yellow bows in her hair.

  “But he kissed you.” Susie points to Brody. “If he kisses you, you have to get married.”

  Brody laughs, he hunches over, hands on his knees so he’s eye level with her. “Is that so? I didn’t know there was a rule for that.”

  I look over Susie’s shoulder and Drake’s walking closer to us. “Mind if I cut in and dance with my baby sister?” Drake asks Brody.

  “Of course. I was actually going to ask Susie if she would like to dance with me.” Brody stretches out his hand. “Susie, may I have this dance?”

  “You’re not going to kiss me, are you? My daddy will punch you in the face.”

  Brody looks up at Drake, assuming he is Susie’s dad.

  “Jacob is her daddy, not me,” Drake says, pointing to Jacob who is talking to one of Phoebe’s friends.

  “I promise I won’t kiss you. Cross my heart,” Brody says, takes Susie’s hand, and moves her to the other end of the dance floor leaving me with my oldest brother.

  It’s an awkward moment since he was the one who warned me about Todd and threw him in jail. We never really reconciled our differences, and I didn’t tell him he was right and I was wrong . . . and that I appreciated him looking after me.

  “I was wondering how long you would dodge me this evening,” Drake says as he takes my hand and we dance.

  “I’m not dodging you. It’s Dylan’s night and I’m just giving him the attention, that’s all.” It’s part lie, part truth.

  “And why haven’t you returned my calls or answered any of my texts?”

  “Again, I’ve been busy. I have this new job and it’s very demanding.”

  “Yet, you still had time to call Mama and talk to Dyl and Dax. And send Pop crossword puzzles.” He levels his glare and suddenly I feel guilty.

  Drake deserves an explanation, more like an apology. Being the oldest can’t be easy. He’ll never admit it, but as kids, he hated that Dylan and I were much closer. If Dyl wasn’t with his friends, we were together. Dylan and I watched the same TV shows, went horseback riding, played baseball and football, and Dylan helped me with the cutouts in my wedding book.

  Drake is five years older than me. And the times I wanted to tag along, I was more of a nuisance to him and his friends. Then Dax came along and with his Down syndrome, Dylan and I helped Mama and Daddy a lot with him, while Drake did what typical teenage boys did.

  Drake being the sheriff of the town we all grew up in, it was in his nature to be the protector. And I couldn’t fault him for that.

  The music fades and we stop moving and I look up into my brother’s dark blue eyes. “I’m sorry. You were right, and I was wrong.”

  “It’s not a matter of who is right or wrong, Lu. But I am sorry I didn’t throw his ass in jail sooner.”

  “I just didn’t want to admit it then. I was ashamed and scared.”

  “There ain’t no shame in needing me and asking for my help.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’m just glad you’re okay now.”

  “Thank you, Drake.” My smile is fleeting and apologetic.

  “So, we’re good? You’re not mad at me for prying?”

  “No. I’m not mad anymore. You’ll still be a pain in my ass, though.”

  “Isn’t that what big brothers are for?” Drake chuckles.

  I park my hand on my jutted hip. “Dylan has never been an ass to me.”

  “That’s because he’s a pansy-ass.” And just like that, we are back to normal.

  I giggle. “True.”

  Drake points his chin toward Brody who is now with Susie, Dax, and Catrina by the dessert table. “He seems like a good guy.”

  “Do I hear the Drake-stamp-of-approval?”

  “He’s a former Captain America, just like Dyldo, he’s okay in my book.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Brody

  Since the proposal, we men have been sitting around a bonfire, doing the male bonding thing for the last couple of hours. I told Dylan I’m working for Jackson and Mark. Dylan shared that he, Jackson, and Mark, though on different SEAL teams, completed a few missions together.

  On our umpteenth beer, he entertains me with stories and pranks they played on each other on their missions. My favorite account involved Mark, Mexico, and laxatives.

  Good times. And I can’t wait to bring it up next time I see Mark.

  Dylan switches the subject to Delilah as we watch her go into the house and one by one, all the lights we can see through the window flicker on.

  “For as long as I can remember, Lulu’s been afraid of the dark,” Dylan says, then takes a long pull of his beer.

  “I think it’s cute how she lights up the house but curious how that all became a thing for her,” I say, pointing my chin to the house as she passes a window.

  “It’s definitely a thing, and we had no choice but to adapt to her new fear of darkness.” Dylan scrapes his jaw as he eyes Drake.

  “What do you mean? She told me a house should always be welcoming, and that’s why she keeps the lights on.” I tilt my head and narrow my eyes, knowing there is more to the story.

  “These two were playing hide-and-seek while Pop made me lock up the barn. It was all part of the extra chores I had to do in punishment for coming home past curfew,” Drake chimes in as he points his beer at his brother. “Dyldo here, was the seeker. Lu was a helluva good hider. She hid in a large empty crate in the barn, and when she closed the lid, the latch fell over the hook and locked her in.”

  “Then how’d you find her?” I ask, taking another swig of my beer, glancing over at Delilah talking with her mother and Daxton.

  Dylan leans in with his elbows on his knees. “I called the game over, but she never came out. After thirty minutes or so, the sun had already come down, and we all began to worry.”

  “I checked the pasture hoping she didn’t fall into one of the many holes we dug out there for the fencing,” Neil, Delilah’s father, says as he rubs the back of his neck.

  “And I checked all the rooms in the house,” Dylan adds.

  “Then I heard crying and banging from behind the barn doors,” Drake says, letting out a breath and shame in his eyes. “When I opened the crate, fuck . . . my heart broke. I felt so guilty for locking her up in there.”

  “Drake, you had no idea. You were doing what I told you to do,” Neil says, his baritone voice distinct and stoic.

  “Yeah, well, I still felt like shit, Pop.”

  “And this is when Drake-the-overprotective brother was born. Always checking on her, making sure everything was okay, wanting to know her whereabouts and if Lulu was safe.” Dylan chuckles then looks up when Phoebe calls him from the other side of the yard. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my baby-mama-bride-to-be is requesting my hotness.”

  “What she sees in you, I’ll never know,” Drake jokes.

  “Well, she’s not marrying me for my money.”

  “Whatever, pencil dick,” Drake says, holding up his pinky finger.

  We all laugh when Dylan rubs his middle finger against his temple as he leaves with the bonfire blazing between us.

  “And why do you call Delilah, Lulu?” I ask, tipping back the rest of my beer.

  Neil chuckles and points his beer to Daxton who is sitting at the picnic table with Catrina and Susie. “Dax couldn’t say Delilah. When he started speaking, he kept saying Dee-Lulu.”

  “Then we shortened it and
it stuck,” Drake adds as his daughter, Catrina, waves at him with a crayon in her hand.

  “It’s what we call Daxtionary jargon . . . Daxton’s got quite a few of them,” Neil says with a deep chuckle, reminding me of my dad.

  “And before you even think it, you can’t call her Lulu . . . it’s a Marshall thing,” Drake blurts out with a raise of a brow. “Dax is very strict about who is permitted to call her by the nickname he anointed her. Even Delilah’s best friends aren’t allowed.”

  That’s okay, I have my own nickname for her.

  “Good to know,” I reply with a smile and turn to see Delilah walking toward us. She sits in the empty chair Dylan occupied just moments ago.

  “So, what are my favorite men talking about over here?” Delilah asks. “All good things, I assume.”

  “Always good, Lu,” Neil says, rising from the lounge chair. “Now I think I want to have a slice of your mama’s desserts.” He nods at us, pats me on the shoulder and gives it a squeeze. He leans down and whispers, “Take care of my baby girl.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Delilah angles her head as her eyes follow her dad retreating toward the open French doors into the kitchen. “What did he say to you?”

  “Who?” I grin, feigning innocence.

  “My dad . . . what did he whisper in your ear?”

  “It’s a bro-code thing.” I chuckle and give a knowing nod at Drake sitting across from us.

  “Mm-hmm.” She raises a brow, eyes darting between us men.

  “Your dad and brother were kind enough to tell me about Light up Lulu.” I grab her hand and kiss the top of it.

  “Thanks a lot, Drake.” She narrows her eyes at her brother. “My boyfriend thinks I’m a freak now.”

  I lightly yank her hand, motioning her to look back at me. “On the contrary, I think it’s adorable.”

  “Well, isn’t that wonderful, we have two pansy-ass Captain Americas,” Drake pipes as he gets up from his chair jiggling his empty beer bottle. “Want another beer, man?”

  “Nah, I’m good, thanks.”

  “Yup, like I said . . . pansy-ass.” Drake chuckles as he turns on his heel, leaving Delilah and me alone.