Undisclosed Desire (The Complete Box Set

by Falon Gold

  When Apollo, Malisa, and Pops are standing beside me, still linked arm in arm, Pops waits for the preacher to ask who gives the woman away. Then he answers, kisses Malisa’s cheek, and takes his seat beside Mama O. Immediately, she leans over into Pops’ chest and starts to weep loudly. More sniveling arises from the guests. Pops pulls his wife closer with his arm draped around her back, then pats his eyes with the lilac handkerchief from his breast pocket.

  Yep, no ceremony for me.

  Dry-eyed Malisa, who’s probably the only one composed besides me, turns and waves Astrid over. Astrid’s eyes bounce around the crowd, with an apprehensive yet hopeful expression that Malisa isn’t beckoning her out of all the guests. Her luck doesn’t run that well though; Malisa gives up on waving to her and calls her name instead. Astrid’s eyes round out like saucers before I step forward, to help her out of her chair. At least, I won’t be embarrassed by myself at the next thing the bride and groom do that isn’t rehearsed.

  After hustling Astrid to her impromptu bridesmaid’s position beside Malisa, Apollo prompts the preacher to begin. The next thing I know, Apollo’s head is dipping, and he and Malisa are kissing. I didn’t hear them recite their vows, too busy taking note of every curve that becomes visible in the satin, sleeveless fabric that Astrid is wearing whenever the wind blows. The sporadic gentle draft takes advantage of the material loose enough to play with, making it hard to keep my levelheadness. Another of part of me is hard too. It stiffens even more every time a gust shapes Astrid’s clothes to the swell of her fuller breasts, rounder hips, and stomach over and over.

  I’m not sure if most men get turned on by the sight of their child distending from their woman’s body, but I’ve just learned that I sure as hell do. The penguin suit doubles as a haven for heat. A sheen of sweat pops out on my brow. I mop it with one hand, pull on my collar with the other. A trickle of perspiration runs down my spine. I get testy.

  “It’s hot in this fucking thing,” I grumble under my breath. Haven’t passed the two-drink anything and I’m already cursing. Oh yeah, the best man speech is better off weighing down someone else’s shoulders.

  Malisa giggles against Apollo’s mouth, butchering their first kiss as husband and wife.

  “That’s why we warned you, Apollo, that you didn’t want him to speak,” she says between chuckles.

  Apollo lifts his head and shakes it. Uncle Tommy snorts from the second row on the bride’s side. The preacher gives me the evil eye and slams his bible shut. I realize I didn’t do a good job of keeping my misery to myself.

  “Sorry,” I murmur, and then squint at Astrid, who’s cupping her hand over her mouth, but her mirth is escaping anyway.

  Now, how fair is that it that she’s laughing when I’m suffering from overheating… and dying to be inside her.

  “You’re going to pay for this, Astrid,” I warn.

  “What?” she shrieks. “I didn’t do anything!” Then more laughter erupts from her.

  “No, your parents did it. If you weren’t so damn beautiful, I wouldn’t be this damn hot,” I snarl.

  The priest groans. The first three rows of guests on each side of the lane laugh.

  “We know who’s getting married next,” someone yells from the back row on the bride’s side.

  Suddenly, everyone knows that Astrid is my girl, or rather that I want her to be, and I didn’t have to say a word. Well, not while face to face with anyone anyway, but I knew just being near her would broadcast my feelings for her. Hell, I’d shout it to the world if I thought she wouldn’t mind, but she does. I clench my teeth together, and just stare at… well, you know who I’m looking at. Everybody does at this point.

  The signature sizzling look of hers covers her caramel features before it flits away. Astrid seems be having difficulty with keeping her emotions on lockdown. Good. More warmness forces itself under my clothes. My erection slams against my zipper.

  On impact, I grunt and tap Apollo on the shoulder. “When do we get to change back into streetwear?” Everything that we practiced in rehearsal has skipped right out of my head.

  Apollo chuckles, turns around, and whispers, “You can go now, Blake. I wouldn’t want you attacking Astrid in front of everyone, but be on the other side of the wall in twenty minutes for the reception or you’ll have to answer for why you’re not there to our family by yourself.”

  “That sounds like a good idea to me, and I’m not going to attack her,” I growl, at Astrid. ‘Attacking her’ should be done only while we’re sequestered, if I can get her to agree to it and in a room by ourselves.

  She winks at me with the eye only the preacher can see. “I’ll go too. I have to use the bathroom.”

  The preacher’s mouth falls open, along with mine. Poor man, he’s learning the hard way how bold Astrid can really be sometimes, just to get a laugh out of someone or her point across. You must be daring to show up at someone else’s house and announce to whoever answers the door that you’re pregnant by the yet-to-be-best man.

  “You know that you have to chaperone her down the aisle right, Blake?” Malisa asks, with a mischievous grin on her face.

  We didn’t practice that last night either, but we should have.

  “Fine, let’s go, Astrid.” I respond hurriedly, then get close enough to her to smell the jasmine fragrance that wrecks my senses and mind instantly, every time.

  This is going to be one long ass stroll.

  Chapter Six

  Blake

  When I offer her my arm, I hold my breath. I don’t know why I’m doing that either. She wraps her hand arm my bicep, with a huge smile on her face. The inability to breathe goes away. Instinctively, my right foot takes off. I forget to watch where I’m going. The woman at my side is much more interesting. Luckily, I can walk a straight line while sober, or there’s no telling who all I’d have run over in their chairs.

  Astrid isn’t making things any safer for the guests; she’s not looking where she’s going either. Three strides later, I forget everything and everyone around me except her whiskey-colored eyes, until I walk off the carpet. I’m supposed to follow the bend in it veering to the left, which stops at three golf carts lined up at the end.

  When I stop, Astrid sinks an inch. I look down, just to see how far off course onto the lawn I’ve escorted her. The bottom of her flat, strappy sandals on loan from Malisa have completely vanished into the thick grass. Tiny diamonds arranged across her instep and rose-colored painted toenails reflect pinpoints of sunlight in my eyes. If Apollo was anywhere near Malisa when she bought them, then there are real diamonds on Astrid’s feet. It’s his plan to give Malisa the world, and he tries at every turn. Sounds like a master plan to me.

  “I can walk back to the house, Blake,” Astrid whispers, drawing my attention to her mouth. “And I should for the exercise.”

  “You don’t have to, love.”

  “I do. I want to go back to work soon, and keeping in shape makes sure I heal faster from giving birth… and we can talk on the way to the house.”

  We do have more of my stupid mistakes to discuss, but I haven’t forgotten about her needs. The house isn’t a skip and a hop away. “But you have to use the bathroom.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You lied?” I ask, confused. I shouldn’t be. Astrid is even more inventive than me when it comes to getting her way, or maybe I just don’t put up a big fight because giving her what she wants usually gets me what I want.

  So why didn’t she ever ask me for my heart? Because she’s a smart lady who knew I wasn’t ready to give it over to her of my own volition yet. She just didn’t know that she’d stolen it from me already.

  She grins. “Yep. I didn’t drink anything so I wouldn’t have to go in the middle of Malisa’s and Apollo’s nuptials.”

  I want to believe that she wants to be alone with me for the same reasons I have, and I’ve never wanted to talk to someone so much in life. I freely admit that I’m desperate to talk to her some more, and f
or other things to happen. Hopefully, so is she. To keep from bogging her down with my yearnings, just in case they don’t match hers, I stick with keeping things light.

  “Bad girl, Astrid.”

  “And I love a bad boy, so sue me.” Then she winks again.

  I try hard to not add more value to her words than she means to imply. It’s easy to want to sleep with someone while not wanting to be with them. I lived like that for the first twenty-four years of my life on purpose. Even if that’s how Astrid feels right now, I’ll be the bad boy she loves any day, in any way, as long as it’s me she wants, until she can’t live without me. When her natural sultriness starts to glow a little brighter in her face again, I know what’s going to happen as soon as we’re alone. Astrid is going to attack me.

  Hell yes!

  I reach up and take her chin in my fingertips. “Oh love, suing you is the last thing I’m going to do.”

  “Good.”

  “Then let’s go.” I walk forward again, but it hurts the massive wood in my pants to move without plunging into her first. Well, it’s going to learn some patience around her if I have to… How in the hell do you teach an erection to calm down?

  Stop thinking about it may help, some anyway.

  “So you’re going back to work?” I ask, determined to drag my mind elsewhere.

  Secretly, I hope she doesn’t go back to work soon or in Harrison. Nothing is set in stone between us yet, so there is every chance that she’ll choose her hometown over me. I have every reason to believe that she wouldn’t if I had dealt with my issues first. No matter my good intentions for not doing it, my long list of faults grows by one more. I’d kill to be able to erase just one where it concerns Astrid, and I know which one I’d murder first; the pestering about becoming a true Powers. It’ll die a quick death, too.

  When that’s out the way, I’m informing my parents that I have every intention of marrying Astrid, once she feels safe enough in my love and commitment to her and our growing family. Ashley and Martin are going to take my newest future plans much harder than the last ones that led me to my career. Maybe they’ll even disown me. That’s probably the best thing they’ll ever do for me and Astrid, since they don’t believe in diluting the Powers’ bloodline with anyone who is less than what they believe is Italian royalty.

  Astrid certainly doesn’t fit that category, not when she’s black and from Small Town, USA with no old money behind her family name. She doesn’t have new money either, but she’s royalty to me. When I can set up an introduction with my parents to meet my queen, they’ll know what she means to me too. I will not be giving her every reason to walk away, again.

  When she looks away from me, which is never good, I get out of my thoughts of her to concentrate solely on her with my eyes.

  “I have to support our child, Blake.” She’s unquestionably insecure in my love for her.

  I cup her chin in my fingers again, and turn her eyes to mine, while we make good time covering the distance between the house and the gardens. “I’ll support you both if you want to be a stay-at-home mom for a while, Astrid. I’ll support you if you don’t. I’ll support you if you’re mine outright… and I’ll support if you aren’t.”

  Do I want to give her the choice of being mine or not? I don’t even have to answer that question, do I? But I definitely have to give her room to come around to my way of thinking because if I don’t, she’ll probably run again.

  She swallows deeply, as we approach the glass French doors with tea-light trimming on the outside that leads into what was Natalia’s kitchen, now Mama O’s. She wouldn’t let anyone else cook anything besides the cake for the reception. Astrid’s eyes become misty.

  Damn. If it isn’t one person crying around me, it’s another.

  I just hope that she’s happy enough to cry about my ‘best man for her’ speech.

  “Tell me what’s on your mind, sweetheart,” I demand softly while I slide the doors open with my empty hand.

  Scents from the buffet waiting to be hauled out to the reception area by the wedding planner’s minions bomb rush me. My stomach growls, seems like I’m always hungry.

  “You’re on my mind, Blake… as always,” she confesses, softly, reluctantly.

  “Is that good or bad?” I’m not stupid enough to deny that either could be the case right now after all the shit I put her through.

  “Both,” she says simply.

  That one word is enough to make my chest tighten up. Suddenly, I have no appetite. We walk between the cabinets that cover the back wall and the covered steam pans that are lined up in front of the casual four-chair dining table, sitting pretty on their stand-up racks, ready to be transported by golf cart to the gardens. I should be dipping into at least one with my fingers, sampling the food while there’s no one around to catch me doing it. Instead, I’m watching for the slightest emotional change in Astrid’s face. It’s all I can bring myself to care about right now.

  “Can you explain what ‘both’ means for me?” Maybe I can ease her mind about some of her issues concerning me before we find the outfits that we changed out of.

  We wouldn’t be putting them back on anytime soon if we were anywhere but here. My family isn’t going to let us miss the reception and wishing Malisa and Apollo well before they take their leave to the one of the Powers’ ski resorts located in Aspen. It’s my gift to them, registered under Mr. and Mrs. Ford, so my parents don’t show up unannounced, thinking I’m the one using the Presidential Suite.

  Astrid moves silently beside me as we exit the kitchen, cross the living area, and enter the hallway where she stood, getting to know more about me than she wanted to. I want to pressure her to answer me, but I keep quiet and convince myself that I’m content with just escorting her past the family photos of Natalia, Luke, and Luke Jr. that are mounted on sage green walls.

  My familiarity with the house and Astrid’s perfect recall takes us in the direction of the nursery and master bedroom, where her clothes are folded neatly on the bed. I should be going in the opposite way toward the guest bedrooms that haven’t been transformed into children’s rooms yet.

  At the opened mahogany door is an unobstructed view of the sun-filled bedroom with a massive bed, it’s floral bedspread, a mountain range’s worth of pillows, and a lumpy, square patch of white that is Astrid’s dress. She stops in the doorway, drops her hand from my arm, and turns to me. The absence of her touch leaves me wanting it back desperately, but encroaching on her personal bubble seems like a bad idea at the moment.

  “Blake, I just need a little time to get used to… everything. We’ve never lived together, dated, or hell, talked as much as we have in the last few hours about anything.”

  God, if she’s backing out on giving me the next month to prove myself, I swear I’ll scream like a girl, or drop down to my knees and beg her to stay.

  Things will get highly awkward after I finish doing either one and possibly make her feel even more uptight around me. My mind scrambles to come up with another method that gives her the space, which she obviously needs, to come to terms with our new but wobbly relationship. I just need to keep her in my territory. It doesn’t take long for an idea to form.

  “You don’t have to move in with me, Astrid. You can get your old apartment back in town, or a new one. The old one is still empty though, since old man Sampson is doing some remodeling to it, but I can use my influence to get you in the new high rise condominiums a few miles away, tonight. They come fully furnished.”

  This will be the first thing that my parents own that might actually benefit me, and I can’t be happier that they’re branching out into real estate in their golden years. Not glad about having to ask them for a favor. For Astrid, I’ll confront an approaching a snake about to strike. The Powers are in the same category.

  Getting them to lease me an apartment in Powers’ Court won’t be difficult at all since they want something from me, and it’s only a few miles away from my much less expensive resid
ence.

  She raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think I can afford a new high rise condominium. My savings will probably run out after I give a deposit and the first month’s rent.”

  “Astrid, when I said I’d support you, I meant I’d support you in every way. Since I asked you to stay, I should pay for it.”

  Her mouth opens, probably to refuse me, her independent streak a mile wide just like Malisa’s used to be. I set my mouth lightly down on hers, not giving her the chance to speak. When her lips pucker beneath mine, clearly participating in the kiss, I hope I’ve found a technique to get my way with her too; my touch. I’ll never make her regret it, or take it for granted again. But just in case I haven’t located her soft spot yet, I tilt my head, resting my forehead on hers. I’m not above using skin contact to remind her of what we used to have. My family’s future together under one roof hangs on it.

  “Let me do this for you, sweetheart, at least for my son. If we don’t work out, and I wouldn’t bank on that if I was you, you’ll still have your savings to get a place whenever you decide to move out from your parents.’ I don’t think you’ll want to stay with them and raise our child. You’ve always struck me as a woman who enjoys her space.” Or she’d have asked me to commit to her long before now.

  Hell, she still hasn’t asked. I’m asking her.

  The corners of her mouth curve upward in my downward view. “I don’t need that much space, Blake,” she says huskily.

  I don’t have to be a rocket scientist or be looking in her face to know what she means; she’s about to take what she wants from me. The only problem is, where will I let her remove it from me at?

  “Astrid, as much as I love making love with you, and need to do it right now, I don’t think we should piss off Uncle Luke by sleeping in his bed. Any of them. He’s an ex-boxer who breaks big ass horses so little children can ride them, and I don’t have my gun.”

  Quiet hilarity climbs out of her throat. “Blake, obviously, you’ve never used a bathroom for more than its original purpose.”