Ever After Always (Bergman Brothers Book 3)

by Chloe Liese

  She frowns at me as I offer a hand and pull her upright. “What are we doing?” she asks.

  I tap my phone, selecting the first song from one of her many playlists. This one’s titled, Dancing on the Beach. The perfect soundtrack, on a silver platter.

  Freya knows it, too, when I draw her close and start us swaying.

  She laughs. “Well done.”

  “How could I turn down the perfectly titled playlist?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, planting a kiss on my cheek. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

  Holding her close, I move us to the rhythm of the music, breathing in Freya, who smells like sunshine and flowers, the always sweet-tart lemon scent in her skin, so soft and warm in my arms. She feels like heaven.

  “Why are we dancing?” she asks.

  I press a kiss to her temple. “Because you love to dance, and I love to hold you.”

  “Well, that’s a nice reason.”

  Smiling, I tug her closer and set my mouth to the shell of her ear. “And because I want to tell you things I don’t know how to tell you otherwise, and it’s easier when you’re in my arms.”

  “Like what?” she whispers.

  “Every day, I wake up scared that I won’t love you how you deserve to be loved. When I’m nervous before I speak at a conference, I hold your pendant in my palm until it’s hot, and then I press it hard to my chest, so it’s warm against my skin when I speak; I tell myself that you’re with me, and it makes me braver.”

  She pulls back and meets my gaze.

  “Performance high is no joke,” I tell her quietly. “I almost threw up before I sang for you at karaoke, but afterward, I loved it. I love that you make me want to be brave and try things I otherwise wouldn’t. Oh, and I had my first hard liquor drink—or at least three sips of it—for Dutch courage before I played. Those zombie cocktails are high alcohol proof, in case you didn’t know. Tread carefully.”

  A smoky laugh jumps out of her. “Yeesh, Aiden! A zombie?”

  I place a kiss behind her ear and trail more down her neck. “It’s vacation. The perfect place to bend my own rules.”

  “I knew I tasted mint and rum.”

  My laugh is soft as I kiss her shoulder. “I’ve always struggled to admit my fears and my failures to you because I never ever want to disappoint you, Freya.”

  She holds my eyes, slipping her fingers through my hair. “You don’t, Aiden. You could never disappoint me. Because you would never do anything that compromised your integrity, your goodness. You hurt me when you pulled away, yes. But you never disappointed me.”

  “Tell that to my brain. He’s a lying asshole.”

  “I will,” she whispers. “Let me know when he’s talking shit, so I can tell him off.”

  Tears tighten my throat. “I will.”

  Setting her cheek on my shoulder, Freya sighs as I sway us in soft, mesmerizing circles. “Aiden?”

  “Hm?”

  “Thank you. I needed this.”

  My lips meet hers as I whisper, “I needed it, too.”

  21

  Aiden

  Playlist: “I’m with You,” Vance Joy

  Birds chirp quietly outside. Sunlight spills through our sliding glass door and paints Freya’s profile in shades of gold and bronze, slipping down the line of her nose to her lips, pursed in sleep. Someone bangs down the hallway—my money’s on one of the man cubs—and startles her out of her deep sleep.

  On a soft, quiet stretch, Freya squeaks, and her eyes blink open. Sleepily, she glances toward me, where I lie next to her in bed, propped up on one elbow. I smile at her, and she smiles back, warmer than the sunshine brightening her face.

  “Morning,” she says quietly.

  “Morning,” I whisper. Staring at her, I brush my hand against hers. She slides her palm tentatively along mine until I tangle our fingers tight.

  Her eyes dance between mine, and her smile deepens. “Your hair’s wild.”

  “I know.” I slip my thumb along her palm, soothing myself how I have countless times, touching her this way. “I need a haircut. I’ve just been too busy.”

  Too busy. God, Aiden. Very wrong thing to say.

  Her expression falters as she glances down to our hands. “What time is it?”

  “Early.”

  “How early?”

  I shrug. “Don’t know.”

  She frowns. “Can’t you check your phone?”

  “I don’t have it.”

  Her eyes widen comically. “What?”

  I’d be offended by how shocked she is, but I have practically had the thing glued to me for months. It was hard not to worry I’d miss something, but I did it, left my phone downstairs for the second night in a row. And I still haven’t checked it. Instead, I woke up early and did some of Makanui’s yoga flow on our small private deck. Much as I resented the guy for almost dislocating my groin the other day, what he taught us helps me breathe deeper and loosen up my body from all the points that it holds tension.

  “It’s in the kitchen charging,” I tell her quietly, feathering my fingers along the inside of her arm.

  “Color me surprised,” she whispers. “Speaking of the kitchen, I should get up,” she murmurs, glancing past me at the bright morning sky. “If I don’t make breakfast, Mom does.”

  “Ren and Axel are handling it today.”

  She tips her head. “They are?”

  “The guys made a calendar for the rest of the week so it wouldn’t all fall to you. And—” I glance past her shoulder at the tray I have waiting. “Your breakfast is here, today.”

  She peers over her shoulder, then meets my eyes, biting back a smile. “Wow.”

  I smile at her. “Come on. Before your coffee gets cold. And Ryder finds out where his Yeti thermos got to.”

  “Oh, you’ll be a dead man for stealing that.”

  “That’s why he’s not going to know, wife.” I give her a look. “What he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him. Or me.”

  Freya laughs softly as she scooches up in bed and I set the tray over her lap. “This is really nice, Aiden,” she says. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  I smooth back her bedhead hair and kiss her cheek. “I wanted to.”

  When I reach for her nightstand and grab Freya’s water to set it on her tray, I notice the book she had beside it. “Persuasion?” I ask.

  She pauses with her coffee halfway to her mouth. “I watched the movie a few weeks ago and loved it. I decided to read the book, too.”

  Settling next to her in bed, I cross my legs at the ankles and lean in, straightening her silverware on the tray. Freya smiles at me over her cup.

  “When did you watch the movie?” I ask quietly.

  “When you were in Washington,” Freya says as she sets down her coffee. “I cried. A lot.”

  I peer up at her. “Why?”

  She smiles faintly. “Because it’s about waiting for the one you love for a long time, after they’ve hurt you and you’ve hurt them. It’s about deciding the outside world doesn’t get to dictate your happiness, about forgiveness and second chances and love that grows with people as they grow, too.”

  “Sounds pretty damn good.”

  She nods. “It is. I actually like the book better, so far.”

  I lean into her hand, which hasn’t left my hair. “Can I read it?”

  “Only if you read it aloud to me. In a British accent.”

  I nip her shoulder. “I’m as bad at accents as I am at charades, and you know it.”

  She kisses my cheek. “I love your accents.” Her lips move to my jaw, and I feel her hesitation, her warm breath soft against my skin. “And I love you.”

  Those words. I haven’t heard them in too, too long. I love you.

  My heart feels like a drum solo, rolls and pops, percussive rhythm that’s an explosive relief. She said it. She loves me.

  Still.

  I turn and catch her lips, stealing another kiss. “I love you, Freya. So much.”
Fighting the urge to sweep her tray right off the bed and break every rule Dr. Dietrich gave us, I sit back and take a deep breath. Now’s not the time to push past what we’re building, let alone test my body and risk disappointing both of us.

  That’s a conversation we’ll have at home, when the pressure of being “okay” for her parents is behind us. When we’ve shored up what leads to that physical intimacy: our emotions, our trust, our connection.

  Freya sits back and smiles at me, tossing a piece of fruit in her mouth. Then another. I watch the sun brighten our room, Freya delighting in every morsel of breakfast, each lick of the tip of her fingers, each happy sigh and soft hum of contentment.

  Finally, she sets the napkin on her plate and smiles. “Thank you again. Why didn’t you eat?”

  I shake my head. “Not hungry yet.”

  “Hm,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me. “Make sure you do. Need energy for when I kick your butt at sand volleyball later.”

  “Psh. Please.” I pick up the tray and set it on the floor near me.

  She snuggles down into the bed again. “But not before I go back to sleep. What a breakfast! Now I need a nap. Axel and Ren made it?”

  “Excuse me, I did. It’s not groveling if you outsource it.”

  “Mm. Grovel breakfast.”

  “Indeed.” I press a kiss to her head. “They’re cooking for everyone else now. Your meal was made with love.”

  She smiles. “Even better. So who’s on breakfast duty tomorrow?”

  I sit back on the bed and twirl one of her white-blonde waves around my finger. “Oliver and Viggo.”

  “Oh, God, no. They’ll kill each other. There’ll be scrambled eggs stuck to the wall and waffle batter dumped on each other’s heads.”

  “They’ll be okay, I think. They love to eat too much to waste food, even if they bicker like an…”

  Freya lifts an eyebrow. “Like an old married couple?”

  “Shh.” I set a finger playfully over her soft lips. “You’re supposed to let my gaffs slide.”

  “Am I?” she says, before playfully nipping my finger.

  I suck in a breath as her eyes lock with mine. My body heats and tenses as I stare at her mouth, as Freya lifts a tentative hand and slips it through my hair, smoothing my bedhead waves off my face.

  Watching her, I drag the sheet away. Sheer white panties and a tank top that shows her tight, pebbled nipples. Such pure beauty. I stare at her for a moment, drinking her in.

  “Can I touch you, Freya?”

  She blushes prettily. “How?”

  I press my lips gently to her throat and breathe her in. “I want to kiss you.”

  “Better brush your teeth, then—oh.” She shivers as I kiss my way down her chest.

  “That kind of kissing,” I tell her.

  She exhales shakily, her hands threading through my hair. “Why?”

  “Because I miss you,” I whisper against the soft curve of her stomach, lifting her tank top. “Because I want you to feel good.” One gentle kiss, as I nuzzle the satin-smooth skin between her hips. “Because I love you.”

  Freya’s hips roll toward mine. Her fingers trail my shoulders delicately, until they curl into my hair again and pull me closer.

  “I need your words, Freya.”

  “Yes,” she says faintly. “Yes, you can kiss me.”

  I hook her panties off and drag them down her legs. She’s so beautiful, wet and flushed. I tease her gently, parting her delicately, blowing cool breaths.

  “Aiden,” she whispers, restless beneath me.

  I drift my other hand beneath her shirt and cup her breast, thumbing her nipple. “Did you wake up aching, Freya?”

  She bites her lip, then nods faintly.

  “What were you dreaming about?”

  Her blush deepens. “How do you know I was dreaming?”

  I rub her clit, then lower, stroking that soft, velvety skin. Each flick of my thumb, every coaxing touch, makes her sigh. “Because I can tell. You were restless in your sleep. These gave you away, too.” Cupping her breast, I roll her nipple beneath my fingers, shifting to tease them both. “They always do.”

  I kiss my way up her thighs until I’m so close to where she wants me. “And I know my wife’s body,” I whisper. “I know when she needs to come.”

  I trail my fingers over her stomach and watch goose bumps rise in their wake as Freya tips her head back, biting her lip. Her eyes flutter shut as I crawl up her body and suck her nipples through the fabric of her tank top, stroking her rhythmically.

  “Touch yourself, Freya.” My voice is gravel, and my dick juts up, hard and pulsing. My balls tighten harshly as I toy with her nipple. “Show me.”

  Her hand slides down her body, stroking where she’s wet and flushed and so fucking pretty. I prop myself higher on one elbow, my touch whispering over her thigh. She shuts her eyes and exhales slowly, then begins circling her clit.

  “Freya,” I whisper, against her skin. “Tell me your dream.”

  Freya’s a very sensual person, and yet she’s shy in bed. I figured out early on in our sex life that making her say what she wanted turned her on almost as much as when I gave it to her.

  “You were…” She swallows. “You used your tongue.”

  I reward her with a deep teasing suck of her nipple. She bows off the bed. “Where?”

  “Here.”

  Her fingers slide farther down, and an animal grunt leaves me as I watch her. My grip sinks into her thigh. “Tell me exactly. Where was my tongue?”

  “My pussy,” she whispers, rubbing herself in tight circles. I watch her move, the sensual way her foot slides along the sheets, the soft jagged breaths she takes as her desire builds.

  One soft kiss to her lips, my hands kneading her, I watch her writhe and chase release. “Is your pussy wet for me, Freya?”

  “Oh, God, yes.” Freya sighs shakily. “Aiden, I’m so clo—”

  Someone bangs on the door. “C’mon, lazy asses. Breakfast!”

  That would be Oliver. Who I’m going to murder.

  Freya gasps, arching into my touch. “T-tell him to go away.”

  “Why can’t you?” I ask her playfully. I stop her hand’s movement and earn a sharp glare.

  “Swear to God, Aiden,” she says. “Now is not the time for edging. I haven’t come in weeks.”

  “It’s always time for edging.” I nip her bottom lip with my teeth and chase it with a kiss, then begin to crawl my way down her body again. “You come so hard when I do it, Freya. You shake and cry, and it’s so fucking beautiful.”

  She moans faintly.

  “Hello?” Oliver calls.

  I swear, he’s twenty going on twelve. We’re not answering. We’re in our bedroom. What does he think we’re doing?

  Holding Freya’s eyes, I lower my mouth, flicking her swollen little nub softly with my tongue. “Better answer him,” I whisper, slipping two fingers inside her and stroking her steadily.

  “What?” Oliver asks through the door.

  “I mean it, Freya. Pretty sure we didn’t lock the door.”

  She shudders as she rides my hand. “I’m g-going to dunk you in the ocean for torturing me.”

  I still my fingers and feel her legs tremor around my touch before I resume pumping them into her. “And I’ll deserve it.”

  “F-fuck off, Oliver!” she yells as I bring my mouth to her body once more and tongue her roughly. Burying her face in her pillow, she comes, crying out in relief.

  “Geez,” he mutters. “Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” His footsteps lumber off, then die away.

  Freya gasps for air as I coax wave after rhythmic wave of her release. Finally, I press one slow kiss to her thigh, then her stomach.

  She glares at me. “You think you’re funny?”

  I grin and steal another kiss where she’s so impossibly beautiful and sensitive. It makes her gasp and shut her legs around my shoulders. I shove them open and crawl up her body. “I think
you came spectacularly. And if I had to piss you off a little to accomplish that, then I’ll pay that price.”

  Her eyes narrow as she tries not to smile. “I should torture you back,” she says darkly.

  “You can dunk me in the ocean. Just like you promised.” I press a kiss to her chest before I push off the bed. “C’mon.”

  22

  Freya

  Playlist: “Over the Rainbow,” Israel Kamakawiwoʻole

  “Okay!” Ryder calls. The living room grows quiet. “Everyone who’s coming on the hike is here, yes?”

  “No,” Axel says evenly, before he turns toward the stairs, cups his mouth and shouts, “Viggo! Oliver! Get your asses down here!”

  The man cubs thunder down the stairs a moment later, gear bags swaying heavily on their backs.

  “What the hell are you packing for?” Dad asks. “Planning to camp out in the jungle?”

  “Snacks,” Viggo mumbles.

  I believe it. All those two do is eat.

  Oliver starts past Ryder toward the front door. “Yeah. Snacks.”

  Ryder grabs his bag, stopping Oliver in his tracks, then spinning him around. “Now do we have everyone going on the hike? Everyone has their water and some food to tide them over?”

  To a chorus of affirmatives, Ryder turns and opens the front door, ushering us out.

  Frankie wiggles deeper into the couch cushions with her blanket and flashes a self-satisfied grin. “The couch and the TV. All to myself.”

  I playfully narrow my eyes at her. “No gloating. Some of us got strongarmed into this.”

  “That’s your problem,” Frankie says, brandishing the remote at me. “You’re too nice. You’ve got to learn my favorite word. No. N.O. I’ve been working on Zenzero, but look, there he is, suited up for this hike even though he’s going to end up looking like a lobster impersonator.”

  “Hey.” Ren leans over the sofa and kisses her. “I have a hat and SPF 100 on, head to toe.”

  She kisses him again. “Be smart and drink your water. Love you.”