by Mia Caldwell
“I thought so. And in that office that day I think the magic made me kind of lose it for a second. I hadn’t planned to make any demands of you. I was only there to tell you I was going to fund your research, that was it.”
“No Rumpelstiltskin?”
“No, not even a little bargain with a minor demon. Until I saw you and wanted to find a way to be near you. As I said, I’d been thinking about having a child, even if I didn’t have a wife. I had investigated possibly hiring a surrogate, and so that’s why I thought of it, I believe, to tie surrogacy to the funding. And I figured that once our child was born, I might get another shot at reconciling with you.”
“That’s kind of crazy.”
“But mostly kind of romantic crazy.”
“I’ll go with romantic crazy.”
“Damn. I hope that’s not the whiskey talking.”
“You need to quit worrying about the scotch. I’m not that big a lightweight,” she said.
“I want to kiss you so badly.”
She unconsciously licked her lips. “Not yet.”
“Fine. But I think I’ve admitted to everything now. The story is told.”
“Almost. I want to know why you didn’t see me again, after we made the deal. We only spoke on the phone, or we Skyped or texted or whatever. But we didn’t meet in person again.”
“I thought you wanted it that way. And I accepted it so we could get to know each other,” he said. “Oh, when you went into labor, and I was told, I was absolutely beside myself. I was so happy but also worried that something might go wrong. I’d never felt anything like that in my entire life. Something about not only getting to see my child, but the opportunity to get a second chance with you filled my heart full. I didn’t get the chance for any of that, of course.”
“You don’t have to talk about that, Quint. I was always drawn to you, too. I respected how you’d changed and how you respected my wishes to keep us distant during the pregnancy. And after everything that’s happened with Hampton — I never could have held onto hope without your help. And I never could have gotten him back without you. You made me feel safe. Even in the darkest moments, you were there for me, telling me to believe that all would be well.”
Now was the time to confess, she thought. “I can’t imagine being away from you,” she said. “Not anymore.”
Chapter Forty
QUINT CAME AROUND THE BAR and took her in his arms. “I don’t want you to imagine it. If you’ll have me, we never have to be apart again, Amara.”
Having him pressed against her made her shudder. The sensation of firm pressure, the scent of his expensive cologne, the warmth of his touch, it all combined into a heady mix, igniting a fire inside her.
Amara looked deeply into his eyes and wrapped her arms around his thick neck. “You’ve changed my life in so many ways. I can’t bear the thought of living without you.”
“It’s time for that kiss now,” he said, staking a claim she wouldn’t deny.
Quint brought a hand to her cheek and leaned down, his eyes drifting closed as he pressed his lips softly to hers. Amara leaned into the kiss that deepened by the moment. Soon, their bodies were intertwined, Amara’s hand slipping up into Quint’s hair, her kiss as hungry and desperate as his.
She reflected for the barest moment on the last time they kissed this way, and how different it felt. Love had lingered barely below the surface, constantly kept down — Amara withholding her declaration out of fear and grief, Quint keeping his for Amara’s sake, knowing how conflicted she must feel with everything that was going on.
This kiss was different. It was pure — no worries at the back of their minds, nothing kept back from each other, an unclouded and unmistakable expression of their love, even if they hadn’t said the words.
They’d kept the promise that there would be no more lovemaking until they were home safe with Hampton. Now that everything was resolved, there was nothing holding them back.
Amara found the both of them moving toward the hallway, their bodies tugging them toward the master bedroom.
With reluctance, she pulled back from the kiss and motioned toward the bedroom. “Do you think we should …?” A playful smile was on her lips, and she knew what the answer was going to be.
“Absolutely.” He stripped off his suit jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair, hastily unbuttoning the sleeves of the dress shirt he wore and loosening the tie.
While he worked at getting out of his usual, complex outfit, Amara sauntered off toward the room, pulling her shirt off and stepping out of her skirt, leaving the gleaming, shimmering white of her satin bra and panties standing out on her fawn-colored skin.
Quint’s hand slowed two buttons down, his eyes transfixed on the swing of her hips, the soft curve of her back as she brought her arms up to slide her fingers through her hair.
Amara smiled as she looked over her shoulder. As suave, confident, and experienced as Quint was, the fact that he was so utterly taken with the sight of her was beyond flattering. His mouth was dropped slightly open, and he seemed to be making an attempt at forming words adequate to describe how incredible she looked.
He almost absentmindedly shook his head, his fingers dexterously sliding down and slipping the rest of his buttons free. The luxury and good food in Montevideo had done wonders for not only his health, but his figure. He was back to the way Amara remembered him after the conference. Broad shoulders, trim waist, defined muscles. He’d made a complete turnaround, the only reminders a handful of scattered scars.
He whipped off his belt and quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his dress slacks. Amara slipped into the darkened bedroom.
Inside, only the lights of the city and the pale moonlight overhead lit the room through the large window. Amara sat on the bed in front of him, slowly slipping off her heels and hose, watching with a tremor in her core as he slowed to a stop again, his eyes traveling up her long legs to the joining between her thighs and up to her breasts.
Her heart lurched when he came closer, his need standing firm and proud behind his boxers.
Amara beckoned him with a finger as she slid further back into the bed, and Quint quickly obliged, lowering himself to his knees on the bed and leaning down to kiss her with as much passion and hunger as before.
His hand slid down her side and beneath her, firmly gripping her ass, a soft moan escaping his lips as he felt the warm, yielding flesh below his fingertips. After a moment, his hand slid up to her back, and the other joined it at the clasp of her bra, working quickly to unfasten it and slide the shimmering cloth from her body.
He gazed at her hungrily before diving down to wrap his lips around one prominent nipple, sucking eagerly as he brought a hand to the other. Amara ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair, loving the feel of the shining strands, silky to her touch.
She pressed her hips up against his and thrilled to the way his hard cock strained against his boxers. She brought a hand down to slide her fingertips along his length through the silky fabric, drawing a sharp moan from him.
He was driven by her touch, cupping her breast and squeezing firmly, huffing a heavy sigh through his nose as she stroked him.
Amara’s other hand remained in his hair, dragging her nails lightly through it as she moaned and twisted beneath him. Her voice was muted and restrained, but she could do little to contain the moans that punctuated every few words.
“Oh … Quint, that feels incredible. Harder, please.” Her back arched, pressing her breast more firmly against his lips.
He sucked more hungrily by the moment. His other hand pinched and pulled at her other nipple, sending shocks of electricity dancing through her body. He stopped only to squeeze her breast or slide down to her thighs, teasing her with feather-light touches along the inside.
When his attentions drifted downward, Amara shivered, knowing precisely what he had in mind. His kisses trailing lower by the moment, over her belly and down. He hooked his fingers beneath the fabric of her
panties and slowly pulled them down, following them closely with loving kisses until the scrap of fabric was tossed aside.
Quint slid forward and back onto the bed, the kisses ascending far more quickly than they’d descended, and Amara opened her legs in anticipation. She was soon bucking and writhing, both hands tightly wound in his hair, as he lavished her with his tongue, eagerly lapping and sucking at her clit and plump, soaked folds.
The longer he went on, the less she could restrain her moans. They were soon abandoned completely in favor of begging and pleading for him to take her. Even as she begged, her thighs closed, holding him where he was as she whimpered and gasped, his attentions only becoming more and more eager as she begged.
As her body began to shake and tighten, edging toward orgasm, he pulled away completely, leaving her grasping for his cock, desperate to feel him inside her. He dropped his boxers and situated himself between her thighs.
She eyed his cock eagerly. It was so large, so perfect, so long and exactly what she needed. Her core throbbed with need. She reached for him.
Quint leaned down and kissed her deeply as he pushed his hips forward and against hers, sliding his thick length deep inside her in a smooth and steady thrust.
She gasped at his entry, so filled, so perfect. She wrapped her legs around his waist, nails dragging down his back as he began a slow, rhythmic pumping, her shuddering moans accompanying every thrust. Amara was overwhelmed by the feeling of him deep inside her, as deep as he could go.
Their lips never parted as he picked up the pace, drawing a hissing breath through his nose as he pounded forward into her, her slick heat enveloping him, pulsing and pressing in unison, completely one.
Harder, she told him. Harder. She wanted to be taken, to have the deal sealed. To know that he was hers and she was his, and this shared taking was the signature on the dotted line.
This time, it was no devil’s bargain. It was a sacred union of shared souls.
Amara’s hands tightened at his back as he drove inside her, and she couldn’t hold out long, not with him working like that over her. She began to come, and she threw her head back in ecstasy, almost immediately feeling the thick heat of his own climax flooding inside her, his head also thrown back.
They cried their release to the heavens. And then they collapsed into one another.
Quint slid off of her slowly, landing beside her with an incredulous laugh of triumph. He panted hard, his hand coming to lay over her belly. “Amara, you are amazing.”
“You too,” she gasped, still trying to catch her breath, aftershocks releasing spikes of pleasure inside her with every exhalation.
“I love you, Amara.” He gazed over at her. “I love you so much. I’ve been dying to say that out loud. I love you.”
Amara had no hesitation. “I love you, too.”
She touched his cheek, her gaze locked with his. “And I’ll love you forever for what you’ve done for me, for who you are. For everything.”
Quint propped himself up on his elbow, his skin flushed from their lovemaking, small beads of sweat still standing on his brow, his hair tousled and mussed. He’d never looked sexier. “You don’t know how glad I am you said that.”
“I can guess.”
“Damn, I love you.”
She smiled, tingly and light all over. “I know.”
“I can’t wait any longer,” he said. “I have to ask. I have to.” He sat up fully, one hand slipping into hers, their fingers intertwined.
“What?”
“Will you marry me? I don’t have a ring right now, but I’ll get you one. Will you marry me, though? I can’t imagine a life without you, and I don’t want to. Let’s raise our son together. I’ll be good to you, Amara, always. I swear it. You’ll never regret saying yes.”
She didn’t need to hear more. She sat up and kissed him ferociously, and when she pulled back she made her own promise. “Yes, I’ll marry you. You make me happy, so happy. And I swear I’ll be good to you, too.”
They settled back together, leaning against the headboard. He sighed contentedly as Amara curled up beside him.
His pale eyes shone in the moonlight streaming through the window. He squeezed her tightly. “Damned if you aren’t the best deal I ever made. I’m one lucky devil.”
She laughed.
Epilogue
THE CLASSIC STRAINS OF A Viennese waltz filled Amara’s senses as Quint swept and twirled her around the ballroom of the Forsythia Heights Hotel. The train of her wedding gown was draped loosely over her forearm, and the silky fabric fluttered and glistened with their movements.
She’d never been one to dream of a happily ever after with her ideal man. She’d always been pragmatic more than romantic. But sailing around this sparkling, glamorous room in the arms of her true love convinced her that romanticism had it all the hell over pragmatism.
Quint watched her with an enamored and lustful expression that hit all the right notes. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”
“And you’re mine, don’t forget.”
“I’d better be, Mrs. Forbes.”
Amara Forbes. She smiled.
The dance ended, too soon for Amara. Before the orchestra could begin another song, one of Amara’s distant cousins swept up to the newlyweds, shoving her way through the crowd like a bulldozer.
“Oh my God, Amara!” Lanae gushed. “This is so amazing. My mother says this is the nicest wedding reception she’s ever been to, and she went to one of Richard Pryor’s weddings back in the day.”
“I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Amara said.
“Can I see your ring?”
Amara patiently held out her hand to show off the big gem at its sparkliest advantage.
Lanae oohed and ahhed. “It’s gorge. You’re so lucky, Amara. Oh, and you too, Quint.”
Quint nodded and smiled graciously.
Lanae laughed and fluttered away, back to her half-skunked dance partner who appeared to think the music was still playing and was currently doing a bad disco solo.
“You had no idea what you were marrying into, did you?” Amara asked wryly.
“Hey, I’m impressed. Richard Pryor’s wedding, really?”
“It’s not true,” Amara said. “My aunt has told that story for decades, and it’s all nonsense.”
“That’s too bad. I’ll ask her about it later, though. She’ll enjoy telling me about it.”
“You’re something, you know that?”
“As are you,” Quint said. “You managed to stay awake the entire time my mother lectured you about what preschools we needed to apply to for Hampton. He won’t even be ready for school for years.”
“But we need to apply immediately, to get a jump on the competition,” Amara said in a fair impression of Quint’s mother’s restrained voice.
Quint laughed as he snagged them a couple of glasses of champagne as a waiter passed by. “For you, my wife.” He handed her one of the crystal flutes. “Shall we take a quick breather?”
She agreed that they should. They made their way to their seats, the process taking a while since the large ballroom was crowded with friends, family, and colleagues, all of whom wanted to congratulate the newlyweds.
They’d just settled down at their table when Jaslene joined them.
Jaslene looked beautiful in her bridesmaid’s dress of emerald green silk with the thinnest of shoulder straps. Her hair was elegance itself in an elaborate chignon.
“Sorry to break in,” she said, “but I’m going to be leaving in a few minutes. I’ve got to be at the airport at the crack of dawn, you know.”
“Send me a text when you get into Detroit, so I know you arrived safely,” Amara said.
“I will. And you text me when you arrive in Tahiti, lucky you.”
Amara said she would. Quint excused himself, saying he needed to talk to one of his groomsmen about something. Amara knew he was being polite so she could have a few moments alone with one of her best friends, one who s
he wasn’t likely to see again for months.
Jaslene told Quint goodbye and asked Amara, “Are you still going to take Hampton with you on your honeymoon?”
“Definitely. Everything’s set.”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen the pictures of where you’ll be staying,” Jaslene said wistfully. “It’s gorgeous, on that slope overlooking that crystal clear inlet, the outdoor tub and shower, the removable, bamboo walls on the structure. And those carved beams. I read that place was transported there piece by piece from Thailand back in the early 1900s, and that it’s actually around three hundred years old.”
“It’s all true,” Amara said. “It’s incredible. I can’t wait to get there.”
“But, uh, it’s not quite as romantic, is it, with a baby crying and poopoo diapers staining the priceless, hand-carved countertops?”
“Poopoo diapers? Haha!”
“I’m just saying —”
“Don’t worry about it, Jaslene,” a familiar voice interrupted. It was Kari. “I’ve convinced them to take a nanny so they can have plenty of time to themselves … if they want.”
“My Kari,” Amara said. “Always looking out for me.”
“That’s right. And I’ll be here to take care of Raneesha while you’re gone. She’s going to miss that little guy,” Kari said, nodding in the direction of the dance floor.
The three women watched Raneesha swaying to the music with a grinning Hampton in her arms. Hampton looked adorable in his teeny tux. Raneesha was beautiful in her loose, matron’s gown of gossamer silk. She had a happy, but wistful expression as she danced.
“Oh man, she already misses him,” Amara said.
“Don’t feel guilty,” Jaslene said. “You can’t take your mother on your honeymoon, too. That would be beyond bizarre.”
Amara shrugged. “I know. But I could have left Hampton with her. I’m afraid that after what happened with Frederik she worries that I don’t trust her with Hampton as much as I once did.”
“Do you trust her?” Kari asked, candid as ever.
“Of course,” Amara said. “And anyway, Frederik’s gone, so that’s that.”