“God, yes!” I moan as the waves of pleasure crash over me, my eyes flying open to see him watching me.
“Fucking mine,” he grunts as he drives in to me one final time and then plants himself deep.
Panting, he drops his head to my shoulder. “On second thought, maybe you should get jealous more often,” he chuckles, sliding out of me.
He pulls his pants back up and places a soft kiss on the side of my head as he slips through the door.
I take a minute to collect myself before joining him back in our seats. Settling back in my chair, I notice the flight attendant staring at me. When we make eye contact, she gives me a wink and then turns her attention back to her book.
Embarrassment creeps up my neck when I realize that she probably heard us.
Guess I won’t be asking her what she’s reading after all.
I clear my throat and then tell Breccan quietly, “It wasn’t just jealousy.”
He tilts his head to look at me. “What wasn’t?”
“Earlier. At the meeting. It wasn’t just that I was jealous.” I glance away, unable to look him in the eye. “It was just that, well you know how much Con liked her.” I shrug. “Anyway, it was just hard. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much he would have loved it. And the further we get down his list…” I trail off, not wanting to speak my fears aloud.
“I know,” he agrees. “But, you gotta know that he’s fucking pumped that we are doing this shit for him.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He grabs my hands in his, rubbing circles with his thumb. “Sid, he wanted you to be happy. He wouldn’t want us doing this stuff if he knew you weren’t enjoying it. Maybe we should take a break for a while?”
“No!” I shout. Taking a quick breath, I tell him, “No, I don’t want to stop. I’m okay. Just having a bad day, I guess.”
He tugs at the end of my hair. “Okay, baby. If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
The concern on his face melts away, replaced by a smug smile. “Well, we can mark ‘joining the mile-high club’ off Connor’s list too now.”
I snatch my hand out of his and slap his bicep. “That wasn’t on his list!” I admonish, horrified at the thought.
“Ow!” he exclaims, rubbing the spot that I’d just hit. “Well, if it wasn’t, then it would’ve been one day. And you know it.” He waggles his eyebrows at me and I laugh.
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” I feign irritation.
He brushes his lips across mine and murmurs, “You love me.”
I roll my eyes, but smile.
He’s right, I do love him.
He’s also probably right about Connor wanting to join the mile-high club. But I refuse to admit that to him.
Chapter Two
June
“Pack a bag, baby.”
My head snaps up at the sound of his voice. “A bag?” I shout back, setting the sketch pad aside and pushing to my feet.
“You heard me.”
Following the sound of his voice, I pad in to the kitchen and find Breccan eating an omelet the size of my head, his hip propped against the counter.
He holds the plate in my direction and, around a mouthful of eggs, asks, “Want a bite?”
My lip curls automatically and I shake my head emphatically. “Uh, no. I’ll just have some yogurt,” I reply, pulling the refrigerator door open and scanning the contents.
“We’re out.”
Our fridge is packed, so I shuffle some things around, but I locate the yogurt I’m looking for. Holding it up over my shoulder, I ask, “Why the hell is it that men can’t ever find anything?”
I’m still bent at the waist, digging for the strawberries I know I bought, when he smacks my ass.
“Hey!” I snap.
Chuckling, he tells me, “Eat your yogurt and then go pack a bag. Our flight leaves in two hours.”
“What?” I sputter, my heart nearly pounding out of my chest. Forgetting about the berries, I stand upright and slam the door, causing a picture to flutter to the floor.
Spinning to face him, I ask again. “What do you mean our flight leaves in two hours? I have to work tomorrow! Where are we going?”
Breccan’s face is split wide in a silly grin and proudly, he shouts. “Costa Rica!”
My eyes nearly bug out of my head and I stumble over my words, my mouth unable to keep up with my mind. “Co-Costa Rica? Wh-What the hell?”
He drops his plate on the counter, the fork clattering loudly, then crosses the narrow space between us and placing his hands on my shoulders. “Relax,” he whispers, his blue eyes peering intently in to mine. “Take a deep breath.”
I had several meltdowns after Connor’s death, the panic attacks hitting me from almost out of nowhere. My mind would spin in a million directions, while my heart would constrict and my lungs would be rendered incapable of inflating. I’d find myself on the ground, gasping for air, convinced that I was having a heart attack.
After one particularly bad attack, on our return flight from Vegas no less, Breccan had decided enough was enough. He’d insisted that I go to therapy, and he’d also insisted that he accompany me. While he hadn’t attended every session, he’d come to several and the therapist had taught him a few techniques to help me work through the anxiety.
It didn’t always stop me from having the breakdowns, but it helped shorten them. More than that, it gave Breccan some control and a way to help me. Something that he so desperately needed during that terrible time.
Letting my lids drop, I inhale a deep breath in and my head clears. I realize that a surprise trip to Costa Rica is not the end of the world, and the image of us lounging in a tropical paradise for a few days begins to excite me.
I open my eyes. “Costa Rica, huh? That could be nice.”
His gaze drops to my mouth when I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, his own lips twitching.
“You enjoy watching me get worked up, don’t you?” I mutter.
His eyes lift back to mine, his expression heated. “No, never. But you are pretty sexy when you’re flustered.” He brushes his thumb across my mouth, trailing it along my cheek. “Even sexier when you chew on that bottom lip.”
The contact, nothing more than a whisper across my skin, causes my belly to melt. He’s touched me countless times, and every one of them has the same effect.
I smile and roll my eyes, standing on my toes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. His face is rough, the stubble I begged him not to shave scratching my lips. “Always have one thing on your mind.”
He leans his torso away from me and pops an eyebrow. “Anything on your mind?” One of his hands drops away from my shoulder and slides down my ribs to my hip. Curling his fingers in to my side, he pulls my body flush with his, and makes a show of rolling his straining erection against me.
Playfully, I push against him. “No! Apparently, we don’t have time for that!”
His lids droop and he licks his lips, “We always have time for that.”
I shake my head, “Not today, mister. What are we going to Costa Rica for? And how long are we going to be gone? What about work?” I fire the questions at him rapidly, while still attempting to untangle from his grasp. The longer he presses his hard body against me, the more my resolve begins to crumble. He’s still rolling his hips in to mine as I finally break free and let out an audible sigh of relief.
He feigns hurt. “Don’t sound so glad to get out of my arms,” he teases. “I’ve already talked to your boss. We’ll only be gone a few days. It’s time to check another item off the list.”
My brows furrow. “But the next item is writing a comic book.” I gesture toward the living room. “Something I was working on before you sprung this trip on me.”
He presses his lips together briefly and the gesture causes my stomach to flop. “You’re about to spring something else on me, aren’t you?”
His eyes flash with worry as he tells me. “We’re gonna swim with dolphins.”
“What?” I shout. “But that’s not what’s next!”
My heart begins to pound again, the anxiety I’ve worked so hard to overcome bubbling up.
He holds his hands up, palm out and says, “Hear me out, Sid.”
I clamp my mouth shut and nod, trying to calm my galloping pulse.
He blows out a breath and then continues. “I knew you would freak about going out of order.”
I lift my eyebrows at him, and he gives a half shrug in apology. “But, it’s been a few months since our last trip. You’ve been swamped at work, stressed about your sister. And the next few items on the list are things we can do at home. Or even do while we complete other items.”
Despite my pleas to continue checking items off after our meeting with pop star Levee Williams, Breccan had slowed down on the planning. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was worried about me, or if it was because I had, in fact, been swamped at work. But he hadn’t brought the list up in a few months, and neither had I.
“I am swamped at work. Exactly why I shouldn’t be taking time off right now,” I argue.
I’d been promoted recently, and with the increase in pay and stature came a ridiculously large workload. Breccan had pleaded with me to quit my job, reminding me that he had more than enough money to take care of us. But he was busy with his gym during the day, and I didn’t want to sit around the house with nothing to do. I needed to stay busy.
My sister Abby had taken off after Connor’s death, and it was rare that we heard from her, and even rarer that I saw her. It was her method of coping, and I didn’t begrudge her that, even though I missed her fiercely. She’d lost her only child. It wasn’t up to me, to anyone, to decide how she grieved that loss. I figured she was also staying busy, trying to occupy herself. It just so happened to not be here. I understood, but it didn’t always ease the hurt. When I lost Connor, I also lost her.
“You can miss a couple days of work,” Breccan explains calmly. “It’s not the end of the month, there’s plenty of time for you to catch up when you get back.”
He’s right, so begrudgingly, I nod. “What about Australia? That’s before the dolphins.”
He crosses muscular forearms across his chest. “It’s winter there right now. No one wants to go to Australia in the winter.”
I laugh at his ridiculous logic. “It’s Australia honey, not Antarctica.”
“Well when did you become the Aussie expert?” he mocks, tugging on the end of my braid.
“I just don’t understand why we are jumping so far ahead.”
He pulls me to him. Resting my head against his chest, I hear his heart beat, strong and steady. It relaxes me and I melt in to him, wrapping my arms around his waist.
His chest rumbles. “Just trust me, Sid.”
I nod into him, inhaling his rich, masculine scent. My face pressed against him, I mumble, “I love you.”
His arms flex around me, so tight its almost painful, but only for a second before he releases me and takes a step back. “I’m gonna shower so we can going.”
Tilting my head back, I peer up at him and force a bright smile. “Okay. I’ll pack my bag as soon as I finish eating.”
He dips his chin and then saunters away, calling over his shoulder, “You could skip breakfast and join me in the shower, you know.”
I smirk at his back without bothering to reply and turn my attention back to the fridge. A picture of Connor stares back at me.
It was taken at Connor’s last football game, the one where he injured his kidney. He was suited up, his helmet in one hand braced against his hip. He’d been so excited for that game, his coach telling him that he’d be starting for the first time. I’d snapped the picture as we raced out the door.
Tracing his smile with my fingertip, I whisper, “How am I supposed to live the rest of my life without you?”
My eyes begin to well with tears and I swallow hard, determined not to let them fall. My chest aches, the feeling of loss overwhelming me all over again.
I swallow once more. “I don’t know if I can keep doing it, Con. I don’t know if I can keep going on these adventures without you.” My voice cracks, the tears I wanted to keep at bay spilling over. When I hear the shower turn on, I quit trying to fight it and slide down the cabinets until my ass hits the floor.
Sobs wrack my body, and I drop my head to my knees. I continue to cry, allowing myself to feel the despair, something my therapist insists is good for me.
As the tears begin to slow, I twist my head to the left, resting my cheek on my knees. I count my breaths, another technique learned in therapy, when something under the fridge catches my eye.
The picture that fell earlier is face down, just the corner of it peeking out.
Carefully, I slide it out of its hiding place and flip it over.
My heart stops when I see the image of Connor, holding his bucket list in one hand while the other rests on Breccan’s shoulder. Breccan’s got his head thrown back, mouth open in laughter, and Connor’s smile is so broad, his eyes are mere slits on his face.
“What?” I breathe, staring at the four-by-six image in my hand.
I wrack my brain, trying desperately to remember ever seeing this photo, but I know that I haven’t. Surely, I’d remember this moment, but I don’t.
Convinced that my tears have somehow warped my vision, I blink several times to clear my eyes. After the third time, the image remains the same and laughter bubbles up from somewhere deep inside. I laugh so hard, that tears begin to stream down my already wet cheeks. But these tears are full of joy.
My heart, that was only moments ago aching from sadness and despair, now feels so full of happiness I worry that it will burst.
Clutching the picture to my chest, I lean my head against the cabinets and look up at the sky. I’m still laughing when I say loudly, “Okay, Connor, I hear you.”
I pull the picture away from me and gaze at it once more before pushing myself to my feet.
“Dolphins, huh? They aren’t going to bite me, are they?” I ask no one, as I make my way down the hall, stopping long enough to pull my luggage from one of the closets. “Guess it could be worse. You could’ve requested sharks.”
Chapter Three
We arrived in Costa Rica last night, immediately going to bed, exhausted from the number of plane changes we had to make to get here.
It’s just after eleven in the morning, and Breccan and I are finishing up breakfast. A breakfast that was probably the most amazing thing I’ve ever eaten. The fruit is fresh, the eggs cooked perfectly, the setting amazing.
Breccan spared no expense on the trip, booking our own private villa that is almost as big as our house and set directly in front of the most beautiful beach I’ve ever seen.
Early this morning, I awoke after sleeping more soundly than I had in days and slipped out of the bed. After pulling on a silk robe, courtesy of the resort, I made my way outside, intent on walking along the surf. But when I heard the sounds of howler monkeys coming from the jungle behind me, I changed directions, walking along the edge of the trees. All around me, the sounds of wildlife filled the air, just waking up from their slumber as well, and I breathed deeply, knowing I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
I take the last sip of my mimosa, and sigh, sad to see the glass empty of the freshly-squeezed juice and champagne combination then ask Breccan, “So, what’s on the agenda for the day?”
He looks up from the magazine he’s been scanning and waggles his eyebrows, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Leaning back in the plush chair, I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes.
He sets the magazine aside and leans across the table, easily reaching me, and tugs one of my arms free. “You said you trusted me, remember?”
Begrudgingly, I nod.
“Then stop asking questions,” he teases, squeezing the fingers he’s laced in his.
I huff and then purse my lips together.
Breccan stand
s and pulls me up with him, ushering me toward the bedroom. “Go get changed.”
“I would, but since you won’t tell me what we’re doing today, I don’t know what to wear!” I snap playfully.
Once inside the bedroom, I perch on the edge of the bed and watch as Breccan riffles through my suitcase. The perfectly folded clothes become a jumbled mess, but I don’t say anything, amused by the intensity with which he searches for just the right thing.
“Jesus, woman. I told you a couple days. There’s enough in here to last a month!” he grumbles, as he continues to sort through the clothing.
He is not wrong, I did overpack for the trip. But a girl needs options for every day. I can’t be expected to just bring one outfit and hope that it’s the right one.
Breccan finally stops wrinkling all my clothes and holds out a bikini and cover up.
I push to my feet, but instead of reaching for the items in his outstretched hand, I make a slow show of loosening the robe belt tied around my waist.
His eyebrows wrinkle and I dart my tongue out, licking my lips, and I let the soft material slip from my shoulders and pool on the floor at my feet.
Beneath the robe is a pale blue camisole nightie with a deep v-cut neck that hits me mid-thigh. The hem is lined with lace and split on each side to nearly my hip. It’s comfortable, but more than that, it’s sexy.
I’ve been so overwhelmed with life the last few months that I haven’t been giving Breccan all the attention he deserves, so I packed nothing but sexy sleepwear in the hopes it would give me the boost I needed.
As I slide a finger under the spaghetti strap at my shoulder, Breccan’s confusion vanishes and his eyes heat. He stands rooted in place, unmoving as I continue my slow striptease.
When the gown slips from my breasts and slides down my narrow hips, Breccan drops the clothes he’s picked out for me to wear and stalks over to me. He scoops me from my feet, and I let out a squeak as he tosses me on the bed.
In the blink of an eye, he sheds his clothes and, without a word, crawls up the bed until he’s hovering over me.
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