It's Always Been You

by Elle Wright

  Drake was quiet now, studying her when she looked into his brown eyes again. And he was closer. It was almost like he could read her mind.

  Oh hell, why do I want him to kiss me?

  Then he did. His lips met hers in a soft kiss, one that seemed to steal her breath.

  Wait, Love. The warning in her head was clear. She pushed him away. “Drake, what did you just do?”

  He rubbed his chin, a frown on his face. “Uh, I kissed you.”

  “Yeah, you did. Why did you do that?”

  “Because you wanted me to.”

  His answer was so matter-of-fact that she backed up a step. How the hell did he know that? “You can’t just keep kissing me like that. You did it in Vegas, too. Just kissed me for no reason.”

  “You were upset, and I wanted you to feel better.”

  “So you kissed me?”

  He sighed, rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. It just felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

  “And today?”

  “I don’t know,” he repeated.

  Love’s curiosity got the best of her and she asked, “And how do you know I wanted you to kiss me?”

  He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I can’t describe it. I can always tell when a woman wants me to kiss her.”

  “So you just do it?”

  “Of course not.”

  “In this case you did.”

  “It’s you. I kissed you because you wanted me to.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. His question to her earlier roared in the back of her mind. But don’t you wonder why we chose that night...? It had to mean something that they’d had sex, married each other.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “You tell me.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Maybe...”

  “You want me to kiss you again, don’t you?”

  Love paused, shocked at his question. Not because he was being his confident, cocky self, but because he was right. She did want him to kiss her again. She wanted it more than she wanted her next breath.

  “Yes,” she admitted with a sigh.

  She trembled as he stepped into her, pulling her to him for another kiss. His mouth moved over hers with short, languid movements. His tongue swept into her mouth and tangled with hers, drawing a low moan from her throat. His hands roamed over her back, over her butt. She felt a buzz between them, and then the heat of his nearness was replaced by a chill.

  When her eyes opened, he was staring at his phone.

  “Love, I have to take this. It’s the hospital.”

  He stepped out of the room before she could formulate a response.

  What had just happened? He ran off to answer his phone in the middle of a kiss, one that had curled her toes and made the hairs on her arms rise.

  Her eyes darted around the kitchen until they lit on the white box on the counter and she hurried over to it. Opening it, she moaned at the sight of the deep-fried beignets. Picking up two, she stuffed both in her mouth, all the while thinking that eating beignets was not the only thing she wanted to do with her mouth.

  Chapter 9

  Drake leaned against a wall in Love’s living room. He’d been off the phone for five minutes, but still wasn’t able to go back to her in the kitchen. Because he’d kissed her. Twice. And he’d wanted to go in for thirds and more, but his phone had been his saving grace.

  It wasn’t anybody important, just another resident with a question on one of the patients he’d doctored that day. But it was a welcomed interruption because things were on the verge of going way left.

  Drake leaned against the couch. El’s words rang in his ears. His uncle-brother had surmised that sex with love had to mean something. And he was right.

  He’d spent the last several nights turning every moment over in his mind, trying to find the difference. There was no clarity, no epiphany that would explain how they could go from being best friends to married within the span of twelve hours.

  They’d slept in many a bed together. He’d seen her in her underwear more than a few times, had knocked back shots several nights, and still...no sex. Nothing. Now, he couldn’t stop imagining it. He remembered how she’d looked beneath him, how her bare skin had felt beneath his hands.

  He was tempted to leave right then and there, but he wouldn’t do that to her. Groaning, Drake walked over to the wet bar on the other side of the living room and poured a healthy glass of cognac.

  If he went back into the kitchen, looked at her standing there in those cute little shorts, with that damn bun in her hair, he was liable to kiss her again—or more. Everything had changed. She’d told him they needed to move past it, but could they? He doubted it, since he couldn’t stop wanting her.

  Yet even as he warred with himself over his next steps, he knew he couldn’t run from it. With other women, if things got too hot, he’d walk away. Simple and painless. Love wasn’t other women, and walking away wasn’t an option. She was his closest friend, the best woman he knew, and now she was his wife.

  Drake finished the contents of his glass in one gulp and walked into the kitchen. Love was standing at the island, her head down. Had he hurt her by walking away in the middle of that kiss? It wasn’t his greatest moment, but that phone call had offered a reprieve, given him a chance to think before he made another impulsive decision.

  “Love, I’m sorry.”

  The fact that she didn’t respond was odd. If he’d pissed her off, she’d lash out. If he’d hurt her, she’d cry. But her lack of response was not like her. He stepped closer, caught a glimpse of the open box in front of her.

  “Love?”

  Finally, he reached her and turned her around to face him. His friend, his wife, was standing before him covered in confectioner’s sugar. Her cheeks were stuffed with beignets and the box was...empty?

  “You ate all of the beignets? I bought half a dozen.”

  A burst of powdered sugar flew into his face when she opened her mouth to speak. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled almost incoherently.

  He picked up a napkin and wiped his face. “I can’t believe it.” Her lips and chin were white with powder. He poked one of her cheeks, and another puff of sugar flew out. “You’re going to pay for that in the morning, ya know?”

  She nodded, chewing rapidly. He poured her a glass of wine and pushed it toward her. Once she’d successfully swallowed the beignets, she gulped down the entire glassful.

  “Don’t laugh.”

  He covered his mouth. “I’m not laughing. I’m shocked.”

  “I couldn’t resist.” She grabbed a towel and scrubbed her mouth with it until her lips were red.

  He gripped her wrist. “Stop.”

  “I’m so embarrassed.” She tucked a stand of loose hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t stop eating them.”

  “You have some...” Reaching out, he wiped sugar from the side of her mouth.

  She touched where his finger had been. “I must look a mess.”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  Her eyes softened, propelling him forward until they were almost touching. He framed her face with his palms, brushed her cheeks with his thumbs. Her sharp intake of breath spurred him on. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her nose with his.

  “Drake,” she whispered.

  The smell of sugar and dough on her breath mixed with the exotic scent of her perfume made him ache with need. Soon, he couldn’t see the room around him or hear the sound of the ice maker dropping a round of cubes into the freezer. Everything simply faded away and Love was the only thing he was aware of.

  “Are you afraid of what you’re feeling?” he asked her.

  She swallowed visibly and nodded.

  “But
you don’t want to deny it?”

  Love’s answer didn’t come in words. That didn’t matter, though. He was fluent in her body language, and he’d heard her response loud and clear. She wanted him, too.

  He skimmed her jawline with his fingertips, watched her eyelids flutter shut. “Talk to me, baby.” He laid a hand on her chest, felt her heart beat fast beneath his palm.

  Opening her mouth, she said, “Drake, I—”

  Unable to stop himself, he leaned in and licked leftover sugar from her chin. Her lips parted more and he took full advantage, pulling her into a deep kiss. Her body was flush against his, her softness melding into his hardness as if they were meant to be like this with each other. She moaned low, raked her hands through his hair, digging her fingernails into his scalp.

  He wanted to explore every inch of her skin, see her in the throes of passion, immerse himself in her. Her body was fuel to the simmering fire building inside him. Her lips were soft, welcoming, addictive.

  Lifting her up, he set her on top of the island. Eventually, he had no choice but to pull back, breaking the kiss to breathe. With hooded eyes, she looked at him as he lifted her shirt up and off. The strap of her bra fell over her shoulder and he slowly pulled it down. He took her nipple in his mouth, circling it with his tongue and suckling until she cried his name. He swept his hands over the quivering skin of her stomach before he brushed his lips against her navel and dipped his tongue inside.

  Love’s head fell back as she sighed. “Drake, please.”

  He traced the waistband of her shorts with his tongue before pulling them off. He groaned, seeing the tiny piece of lace she had on underneath. After running his finger over the fabric, he gripped the elastic and pulled it off, leaving her exposed, open for him.

  Drake dropped to his knees, brushed his finger over her slit. She was slick with yearning, writhing under his touch. He massaged her to a quick climax, enjoying her hoarse cries as her orgasm ripped through her. He didn’t even give her a chance to come down from her high before he leaned in and tasted her, swirling his tongue around her clit before taking it in his mouth.

  It didn’t take long before she came again, this time so long and hard he had to fight his own release. But there was so much more he wanted to do. He wanted to take his time, love her thoroughly.

  Standing, he cradled her in his arms and carried her into the living room. Laying her on the couch, he peered down at his satisfied wife. She was glorious, glowing. He unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off.

  Love reached out and unbuckled his belt, sliding it free. She unbuttoned his pants and tugged them and his boxers off. Her eyes flashed as she took in every inch of him, her palms smoothing over the muscles of his legs and lower abdomen before squeezing his erection.

  Drake groaned before he grasped her wrists. “I don’t want to come in your hand, baby. I want to come inside you.”

  Love fell back on the cushions, pulling him with her. Nestled between her legs, he kissed her forehead, her nose, then finally her mouth, biting down on her bottom lip as he pushed inside her. They started slow, familiarizing themselves with each other and finding a rhythm of their own. As they discovered their groove, the pace quickened and soon they were racing toward completion.

  As much as he needed the release, Drake wanted to savor this moment. She was everything. And he was all hers. There was nobody else, no expectations or obligations. They were in sync with each other. He had never experienced anything even close to this, and he wanted it to last as long as possible before the weight of reality crashed down on them.

  With that in mind, he whispered, “Let go.”

  That was all it took. He watched her as she came. It took everything in him not to let her milk his release from him. He bit the inside of his cheek as waves of pleasure washed over her.

  A few seconds later, she opened her eyes and smiled. He felt a shift near his heart as his chest tightened. She was so damn beautiful.

  She ran a knuckle down his cheek. “I can’t believe we did this again.”

  Placing a finger over her lips, he said, “I’m not done with you yet.”

  Her eyes widened as he started moving again, thrusting in and out of her like there was no tomorrow full of explanations and excuses. This time, their lovemaking was slower, deliberate.

  “Look at me,” he commanded softly.

  He knew he was close, but he wanted her with him when he came. With their gazes locked on each other, they found their release together.

  Drake gave himself over to Love in more ways than one, and he knew there would be no turning back.

  * * *

  Drake woke the next morning still on the couch, with Love wrapped around him like a warm blanket. And he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be. Which, frankly, scared him to death.

  “Drake?” Love’s voice was soft, unsure. Definitely not groggy with sleep. “Are you awake?”

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  She lifted herself up on an elbow. “We had sex again.”

  Sex? That was definitely not sex. Drake had had plenty of sex and none of it was even remotely similar to what had happened between him and Love. “Are you cold?”

  She glanced at him. “Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you,” he murmured.

  She fingered a fold in the throw he’d draped over them. “Can we talk about this?”

  Not with your naked body pressed against mine. “Maybe we should get dressed.”

  Unfortunately, she didn’t take the hint and move. “Drake, this isn’t what I expected. We made love.”

  “Well, we are married.” He knew his attempt at humor didn’t work when her chin quivered. He squeezed the tip of it between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m sorry.”

  She dropped her forehead against his chest, and he tickled the back of her neck.

  “It’s complicated,” she murmured. “We’ve yet to talk about this marriage and lawyers and the divorce. Instead, we had sex again. I’m worried we just changed things once more.”

  Their lovemaking had been intense, a game changer for him. And he definitely wasn’t ready for the change. “Love, I’d like to think that we’ve been friends long enough to withstand anything that comes our way. We’re adults, and we made an adult decision last night.”

  She glanced up at him. “What now?”

  He brushed his thumb over her eyebrow. “I honestly don’t know. And it’s kind of hard to think about that when you’re lying against me like this.”

  She laughed then. It was a full, throaty laugh that seemed to lodge itself in his heart. Love was beautiful on an average day, but the after-sex-relaxed-bedhead Love was stunning. She was perfect.

  “You’re my best friend,” she said.

  He swept his palm over her shoulder and squeezed. “Nothing is going to change that.”

  “You’re worried.”

  “Who said I was worried?”

  “You don’t have to say it.”

  Distracted by her and the need to be with her again, he sat up. She held the blanket to her chest and slid off him so that he could stand. After dragging on his pants, he turned to her. “If I’m worried, it’s because I don’t want you hurt. Not because I’m worried about our friendship.”

  “We slept together, Drake. How do we come back from that? It’s not like we can magically not be attracted to each other.”

  She stood and slipped on his shirt, which looked damn good on her. So good, he imagined taking her again with the shirt on. “We don’t. We adjust to it. Like you said, we can’t take it back. It’s like an amputation. We’ll miss the way it was before, but we’ll learn to live differently.”

  “I say that to my patients who’ve just lost loved ones.”

  “I know,” he said. “It applies here, too.”

/>   She chewed on her thumbnail. “What if it happens again?”

  He’d asked himself the same question a million times since she’d put on that shirt. He knew it was going to happen again, he just didn’t know when. “It won’t,” he lied. “We won’t let it, okay?”

  “And you can just go back to normal?”

  Nope. “Well, I want to try to figure this out. You’re too important to me not to try and work on it.”

  She walked closer, peered up at him with sad eyes. “Are you sure?”

  He wrapped his arms around her, and she burrowed into him.

  “I need you, Drake.”

  They stood like that for a while, swaying to their own music. “I’m here, Love. Always.”

  A hard knock at the door interrupted their tentative peace. Love frowned. “Who could that be? It’s so early.”

  Drake buttoned Love up in his shirt. She smoothed a hand over her hair as he walked to the door. There was another knock before he got there and he paused when he saw who was on the other side through the small window. Shit.

  “Who is it?” Love asked, tugging at his shirt.

  Without answering her, he opened the door. “Mom.”

  “Mom?” he heard Love say behind him.

  Gloria breezed into the condo like she owned the place. “Drake, you’re here. Be a doll and grab my luggage. Lovely, I’ve been calling you.”

  “Mom, what are you doing here?” she asked.

  Drake dragged the three heavy suitcases forward. “Are you moving in or something?” He met Love’s mortified gaze.

  “Silly,” Gloria said with a grin. “No. I just wanted to spend more time with my daughter. I’ve finally decided to get that second opinion from a U of M doctor, like you’ve been suggesting. Plus, we have to get started on the wedding festivities.”

  The color drained from Love’s face, and Drake walked over to her. “Are you okay?” he mouthed.

  She placed a hand over her heart and shook her head.

  “Wait! Oh no,” Gloria said with a gasp.

  Drake looked at her. “What?” He followed Gloria’s gaze toward the couch, then Love, then him, and realized she was connecting all the dots.