Inevitably Yours (Imagine Ink Book 4)

by Verlene Landon

  “Okay, look. I understand there is something we need to discuss.” Gus’ speech faltered as his chest encountered her back. His touch, his body heat scorched her very bones. When John’s inhale whispered along the nape of her neck and his shuddering exhale kissed the pebbling skin there, she experienced a glimpse of her own personal Heaven.

  Trying to focus on her thoughts was about as effective as carrying sand in a sifter, as Francis would say. That peek into bliss cemented her need to postpone this conversation until later. A centering breath or two and she was ready to speak.

  “Like I was saying, I know there is a discussion that needs to happen, but if you would indulge me this one last time…” Work-roughened hands skimmed down her arms to rest on her hips and robbed her voice once again. John’s exploration didn’t stop there, it continued as his hands made their way to the front of her hips.

  The next kiss she experienced wasn’t an exhale, but the barely there grazing of lips softer than she expected, but exactly as she’d dreamed. It was so gentle and fleeting, she had to convince herself it actually happened. Before she knew it, the kiss-not-kiss was in the past, and John had laid his cheek against the crown of her head, while his hand slowly came around her belly and back to her hips, repeatedly. Gus focused her senses on another feeling, one of his growing erection against her back. His rather large…holy mother of God. She needed to not be focused on that. If she couldn’t drag her brain out of his pants, she might never speak again. Wouldn’t that be fabulous, rendered mute by a man’s cock.

  “But I—”

  John interrupted her. But this time, the emotions she heard were laced with arousal and tempered with defeat. “This sounds like a goodbye, Augusta. And if it is, at least let me touch you once. Allow me to bring you pleasure instead of pain.”

  Before she could comprehend what he meant by that, one hand glided down the silky soft fabric of her dress. When it reached the hem, he gathered it slightly, and his hand slipped underneath. The friction it created as his fingers slowly tracked up the front of her thigh was delicious. Gus’ skin was more sensitive than she realized, especially in the areas John was caressing while making a beeline for the most sensitive of all. In the wake of his path, Gus glanced down expecting to see sparks and smoke, but instead, she watched his tanned hand disappear into her lacey boy shorts. Well, not so much disappear into the underwear as below her belly. Gus hadn’t looked straight down to her under things in a few months now. She didn’t give a fig that they fit below her belly, she refused to wear practical underwear just because she was pregnant.

  Lightning shot up from her clit and short-circuited her brain. Thoughts of underwear and practicality dissolved instantly and floated away. John’s calloused finger dipped into her aching pussy and pumped a few times before returning to create small, fiery circles on her clit.

  She reached one arm above her head to wrap around John’s neck and dug her nails into his arm with the other so hard, she was sure they’d leave crescent indents. Gus turned her head to hear his choppy breathing better. Nothing turned her on more than hearing a man taking pleasure in her body. And he was enjoying himself; that little detail brought her to the edge.

  John’s talented fingers returned to her drenched opening once more, thrusting with single-minded purpose…pleasure. Shifting his hand once more, he managed to continue the rapturous thrusting in and out of her hungry body while strumming her clit in a rough up and down motion that she just happened to love. Dexterity is my new favorite word.

  John’s other hand rose to her breast. He kneaded and pinched, while his lips and teeth grazed her lobe. She panted his name and came harder than she ever had before.

  When she came down from the best orgasm of her life, she realized what a colossal mistake she’d just made. It took every ounce of courage and reasoning she had not to just turn around and indulge in what seemed to be a chink in his armor…allow him to do more than pleasure her with his hands and pleasure him. However, she knew if she did, he would blame himself later, and that was not something she would saddle him with. Even if it meant passing up what seemed to be her last chance.

  A deep sigh preceded her unsteady words. “In a way, it is a goodbye. A goodbye to things that can never be. There is something more than friendship between us, I believe that with all my heart, but it isn’t something meant to be, obviously.” They had both returned their hands to her hips. Gently caressing the back of his, she was loathe to break the connection. Gus let her eyes drift down to where they touched.

  Her pale, delicate hands only adorned with her mood ring, which was currently black, rested atop his larger, tanned hands—ones that had just wrung a crazy amount of pleasure from her body in a miniscule amount of time. His fingers—his dexterous fingers—sported four manly rings that she loved the sight of. John’s hands were sexy, she’d always thought so. Even more so now that she had personal knowledge of what they were capable of and not just fantasies. She had always thought his hands would end up on her body and holding her heart forever, not just a few fleeting moments. The sight caused her heart to flutter, but it also steeled her resolve.

  The last thing she ever wanted to see was that connection tainted and forced because of his guilt or sense of honor. The thing she loved about him would be the thing that could force him into a situation it was painfully obvious he didn’t want. Or rather, wanted but didn’t want to want.

  “Please don’t feel guilty, John. I value our friendship, and that will never change. We do need to discuss it at some point, in the near future, but we are both adults, and I have no doubt as soon as we put it to rest, we can go back to normal.” After I have the baby, that is. She didn’t say that aloud, but it was true. Things would not be back to normal until then, whether he admitted it or not. And after this little bliss party in the foyer, it may never be.

  John spun her around, and when his gaze clashed with hers, she glimpsed that special peek of Heaven once more. It happened often with John, just not as intense. Every time he looked at her, it was like he hadn’t set eyes on her in ten years and it would be another ten before he did so again. Such hunger, such…desire.

  Gus lowered her guard, for just a brief moment. It was a rare chance to touch paradise. Before she could set her defenses in place again, his lips crashed into hers. Stunned into paralysis, Gus didn’t even blink. She merely stared at John’s lowered lids as he devoured her lips like a man on death row tasting his favorite meal for the last time.

  That was the exact thought that ushered in total brain failure. Her instincts took over when she kissed him back. The kiss was so intense, it was more teeth than lips, more chaos than finesse. But even so, kissing John, or rather, having him kiss her, was an indescribable moment to her heart.

  As her soul was being glutted with the passion it craved, her brain was being flooded with reality. John’s kiss, last meal, death row, death, an end…the ultimate end…

  With more strength than she believed she possessed—strength she would question the source of for years to come—she ended the single most memorable moment in her life to date.

  The eye contact she initiated before she spoke ripped her heart from her chest and tossed it into the great beyond. The look of guilt and shame on John’s face, a look that should have embarrassed her, just pissed her off.

  How dare he feel guilt for kissing me…touching me?

  “John, I need to ask you something, and I ask for complete honesty, even if it hurts my feelings. Can you do that for me?”

  Gus knew she’d have the honesty she asked for. It was simply a stall tactic to even ask for it. He wouldn’t volunteer anything but would answer the question asked and nothing more. That was John, honest to a fault, but as closed as a bank vault to her. Jealousy—that horrible J-word again— overtook her as she realized it was just to her. He was only really closed to her anymore.

  What the heck? John was super close to Michael, and by extension, Tori. The same was true of Stacy and Dax, even Macy. His
relationship with Walker and Erika’s daughter is what had given her so much hope. John fawned over her like there was no tomorrow. She had built up the epic love story in her head. That was it, it was all in her head. And her heart, just not his.

  John had nodded his agreement in answer to her question, but the words lodged in her throat. Not that they would change anything, they were symbolic at this point. She had just realized the truth, so whether he had an issue with this pregnancy or not was irrelevant. He didn’t want what she wanted, she finally figured that out.

  The last meal of the relationship that never was.

  “Do you have a problem with this pregnancy?” Involuntarily, her hand floated to her stomach, resting there and lovingly caressing the bump she called “Butterbean.” Even with the weight of the current situation, the thought cracked her up. The name had stuck even after the baby outgrew the size of the namesake legume; even Marco and Andy occasionally referred to the baby that way. Gus would apologize to he or she because she was positive this child’s nickname would forever be Butterbean. Just add that to my list of regrets.

  A sigh that would’ve broken her heart, had it still beat in her chest, escaped John’s reddened lips—the lips that had just wrung so much pleasure from her seconds ago. “Yes, Augusta, I do. I’ve tried not to, but—”

  “No need to elaborate. A yes or no was all I needed.” Something about the look that haunted his handsome face softened her toward him. Laying her hand on his cheek caused a shudder to course through her. While she was grooving on the salt and pepper beard he was growing, she missed the one dimple that rested just below her palm.

  Her eyes dropped to the cleft that was now hidden. She leaned in and nuzzled his neck briefly before returning to stare into the eyes she had hoped would greet her every morning for the rest of her life.

  “John, don’t. Your secrets are yours. You do not need to spill them to me by way of an explanation. You’ll tell me if, and when, you’re ready. I am sorry I came on so strong. You’re my friend, a very good friend at that, and that’s enough for me. In the name of honesty, I will spill my heart out to you, not to guilt you, but for me, if you’ll allow it, just not tonight, okay. I’m tired, and the baby has finally calmed down, so if you don’t mind, I’ll turn in for the night.” Of course, the baby is calm after that earth-shaking orgasm. Is that the key to a good night’s sleep when pregnant?

  It was clear he wanted to protest and explain, but she didn’t want his secrets this way. A secret shared for the wrong reasons did nothing to bring two people closer. Instead, it became a wedge because it wasn’t shared freely and willingly. His hand covered hers as his eyelids fluttered closed, and he snuggled into her touch.

  Allowing herself to relish the intimate moment briefly, she gripped his other cheek, calling his attention back to her face, not her hand.

  “I’m serious John, I’m good. I don’t need you to dive into something that is obviously painful for you. So, go home. Have a safe trip with my girls and make sure you all come back safe and sound and with a new location for FORM Wear. This talk will keep until then. Besides, I’m going to be busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest. Andy and Marco are moving in next door, my sister is coming to stay with me, and Francis has insisted on fattening me up.”

  They shared a half-hearted laugh at the latter.

  “I’ll see you in four days, and we’ll eat junk food, just don’t tell my mother hens, and we’ll have that talk, okay?”

  John gripped her cheeks, turned her forehead toward his lips, and dropped a lingering kiss there before he pushed away from her.

  Gus watched him walk out the door and down the drive. She leaned against the open door long after the taillights faded into the night.

  Sometimes she felt like a pushover for not being able to hold onto her anger whenever she saw that intensity of pain in someone else’s face. What others didn’t understand was, more often than not, she was protecting herself by letting it go and parting with kind words, more so than sparing them.

  Even though she said the words she felt others needed to hear and spoke of forgiveness, she didn’t let it go like they believed she did. No, she took her pain and theirs, tucking it into her heart and carrying it around with her. As much as she made John believe things would be the same between them, it wasn’t even remotely true.

  The dream she’d invested in was just that, and their reality would be affected by it. She would need to open herself up to the possibility of a relationship with someone other than John if she ever hoped to find love and happiness and have a family of her own.

  That hurt the most.

  After a restless night, this flight was going to be Hell. Good thing Michael was going with them, he might need the backup if he couldn’t focus like he needed to. Three hours in the air seemed like nothing, but it was still time in the air. Time he needed to be on his A game, but last night had thrown him for a loop. Augusta said things he hadn’t realized he longed to hear, and he’d touched her in a way he had never allowed himself to even think about.

  The intoxicating smell of her arousal mixed with her scent of cucumber kiwi still lingered in his nose. He swore he could still feel her hot pussy in his hand. Get it together, man. You are not some young punk that just touched his first boob, for crying out loud. As John told himself that, he remembered how his reaction to Augusta was damn near the same as when he had touched his first boob. Then, he’d come in his pants before he could even close the deal, and he’d been on the verge of that last night with Augusta.

  However, it was the look of heartbreak he’d caused that haunted his bed last night. Her unconditional acceptance and forgiveness invaded his head whenever he tried to remember how amazing it felt to hear his name spill from her lips in passion.

  That was the icing on the crap cake. Why did she have to be so Zen about it all? Why couldn’t she do what any other woman in that situation would do…yell, scream, fight, get pissed…something…anything but being that kindhearted woman who rescues feral cats. Her anger, he could handle; her heart, he could not.

  There was a moment he thought he caught a spark of anger lurking behind her intense hazel eyes. He was ready for it, would welcome it; he wanted it, needed it, but she banked it.

  No doubt, the Boob Brigade, as Walker calls them—behind their backs, of course—would already be privy to what went down last night.

  John already had his ass chewed by his sister via text, because he rejected her call, before his head hit the pillow last night. In a strange way, he took a small measure of comfort in the fact that they had Augusta’s back. It wasn’t her way to give a play-by-play to her friends or bad mouth anyone, not even him. As a matter of fact, the only time he’d ever even heard her tell a story that made the other party not look its best was concerning her parents.

  This trip was bound to be interesting, and not in the good way, since he’d be stuck in tight confines with half the Brigade, and Michael, for the morning.

  Oh well, I’m a grown man, I can take it. Of course, he’d have to remind himself over and over that their actions were because they cared about Augusta, and about him.

  He looked up from his inspection to see Tori and Erika heading toward the plane. Michael appeared behind them, buried in bags and looking more like a pack mule than a man.

  John dropped what he was doing and made a beeline for Michael to relieve some of his burden. “You know there’s no shame in taking two trips.”

  “Bite your tongue, old man,” Michael quipped as he released some of the cargo he was balancing. “Just because you’re closing in on joining the AARP doesn’t mean we all have to start eating dinner at four and watching the Weather Channel regularly.”

  Coming from anyone else, John might take offense, but from Michael, it was just typical banter. Michael filled a tiny bit of the space Troy left, so they possessed a unique relationship.

  “Shut your mouth, youngin’. I am not that old. Besides, need I remind you of your wife�
��s age?” With a raised eyebrow and crooked smile, they raced to the Cessna. John called a quick hello to Tori and Erika as he passed, taking note of their expressions. This pack mule race was totally expected by them—par for the course.

  Beating Michael by at least two strides, John turned to his friend to gloat. As he ribbed him for being slow at his young age, Tori and Erika arrived at the wing. They didn’t say anything about Augusta when everyone loaded in the plane, or after they took off. In fact, the ladies had been quiet for the first hour, barely talking at all. They were busy taking pictures and “oohing” and “ahhing” at the beauty of the Emerald Coast from 9,000 feet above it.

  It was Michael who jump-started the conversation with a simple, “So, what now?” Nothing elaborate, no names, just three words in the form of a question, yet everyone in the plane knew exactly what he meant.

  John couldn’t even be upset with him for opening that can of worms. It seemed Michael was confused about what to say or do…if he should take sides or what. Michael just honestly wanted to know how to proceed so he didn’t piss off his wife or his friend.

  But as those three words crackled through all four headsets, John knew he would have to be honest, they deserved that. Just as Augusta did. However, he would leave the details until he told her. She deserved to know his feelings first, but he could put all three of their minds at ease.

  Before he could speak, he was bombarded with questions and statements from the back where the two Reid ladies—one by birth, the other by marriage—sat.

  John had a momentary flashback to the first time Tori sat in his plane. It’s where she’d met Michael. The sparks of attraction were instantaneous and so intense, he could feel them from where he sat. Even if neither of them could feel it, or rather didn’t want to, he did. It was the same way for him when he first saw Augusta—not as intense, but then, he metered emotions better than some, always had. Well, not always. It started with the loss of his parents, then intensified with the loss of his brother, but he perfected it when his child was viciously torn from his heart in a way that hurt far worse than death.