The Rivals

by Allen , Dylan

  I wrap an arm around her and pull her close. “Will, I’m fine. But you’re making my dick hard being out here half-naked.”

  She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me.

  “You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack, you crazy man.” She peppers kisses all over my face.

  “I’m the fucking Legend, you think a twenty-foot drop could take me out?”

  “Yes, I do. I know you forget this sometimes, but you’re actually made of flesh and bones.”

  “Speaking of bones.” I push up into her and she grinds down onto me and presses a kiss to my mouth.

  Well, all right now.

  “Come on. Let’s get clean.”

  “How about we finish being dirty, first?” I nudge against the opening of her pussy and even through my jeans and her shorts, I can feel how hot she is.

  She rolls her hips one more time before she jumps off me, extends a hand out to help me up and leads me back inside.

  KAL

  Remi walks around my room, drying his hair, a towel tied around his waist. His ridiculously sexy body, so powerful and muscular, still damp from his shower, immediately distracts me from everything I planned to say while I waited for him to finish.

  “Here we are… back where we started,” he says, peering at the pictures I stuck on the corkboard last night.

  They’re all of me and Bianca.

  All but one. It’s a selfie he took while we were at Gigi’s house. I’m laughing, but Remi’s looking at me with an awed expression that stole my breath the first time I saw it.

  It’s my favorite picture of us. It’s everything we are.

  Or could be.

  If we take the time to do it right, this time.

  “You want to get dressed?”

  “No. Do I need to?”

  “Yeah. You do. We need to talk and if you’re naked, I’ll want to be naked too and then we won’t talk at all.”

  He drops his towel, and my mouth waters at the sight of his magnificent body and the glorious cock hanging between his legs.

  “Get naked,” he growls and palms himself.

  “I mean it. Get dressed.” I pick up his T-shirt, it’s still warm from my dryer and hand it to him with a stern shake.

  He curls his lip and takes the shirt from me, slips it and the briefs I also dried on, while I sit on the bed and wait.

  “You’re killing my buzz,” he grumbles as he slips on his jeans.

  “Mine died when I thought you plunged to your death thirty minutes ago, so at least now we’re on the same page.”

  “We were on the same page when we were outside and you were straddling me.”

  He flops on the bed next to me and turns on his side.

  I mimic his position so we’re lying to face-to-face.

  I drink him in. There’s still so much of the boy I met in the library there. The kind, sure, funny boy who made me reach for more.

  He runs a finger down the slope of my nose and over my lips, his eyes following the path and landing on my lips.

  “Bianca has that freckle, too,” he observes.

  “Yeah. She does. I joke that it’s the only thing she got from me.” I start to laugh but it dies when I see how serious his expression is.

  “What?”

  “I want you to write the article.” His declaration catches me completely off guard.

  “Really?” I lean away from him in surprise.

  “Yeah.” He nods.

  “That’s not what you said two days ago.”

  “Two days ago, I was raw and angry, Kal. The timing of all of that wasn’t ideal. And you didn’t exactly give me a heads-up.” His tone isn’t reproachful, but I still hate that he found out before I could tell him myself.

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  He takes my hands in his, strokes my palms with his thumbs and looks deeply into my eyes.

  “I know I am the last person on earth who should be allowed to say this to you. But I’m going to say it anyway.” His expression is so grave, that in the space between his words, my imagination goes wild with worry.

  “Just say it.”

  “It’s just that… we can’t keep things from each other, Kal. Not anymore. If this is going to work, then we’ve got to be able to talk to each other. Because when we don’t, we fall apart. The truth, no matter how scary, is always much easier to handle than the fallout of a lie.”

  “I know.”

  “And I want to stop the lies we’ve been telling about my family. I can’t tell Gigi and Lucas’ story. But I want to tell my own. I want you to write it. I’ll even sit and let you interview me if that would be better.”

  I eye him skeptically. “Are you sure, Remi?”

  “Yes. Very. I know there’s intense interest about my family, and the Riverses right now. It’s time to pull back the curtain. My dad’s reappearance won’t stay a secret. He and Gigi have already established a connection. The truth is going to come out, and I’d like it to come from me. Whoever gets the story, gets an exclusive and will make a name for themselves, right?”

  “Yeah. It was certainly enough that it would have gotten me that job.”

  “Well, then I want you to write it. If I’m going to make someone’s career, I want it to be yours.”

  I sit up and contemplate what he’s saying and what it will mean.

  “Remi… Lister gave me the bookstore. I want to move back here with Bianca and run it. If I write this story, there won’t be any turning back. I’ll get job offers. Dream ones. That will require me to travel and I’ll have to work a lot.”

  “Will you be happy? Isn’t that what you want? That career?” His voice is so calm compared to mine.

  “Yes…”

  His eyes narrow, focusing like he’s just seen something he missed.

  “What’s the but, Kal?”

  “But, I don’t want you to have to let me write that story to make my career. I can figure things out. I don’t want to be the damsel in distress anymore. I feel like I’ve been one my whole life.”

  He cups my chin and turns my face toward him.

  “A damsel in distress is the last thing you’ve ever been. You’ve come to my rescue more times than I deserve.”

  “I have not.” I dismiss his statement.

  “When I was fourteen, you helped me find the courage to demand more from myself. When I was eighteen, you helped me find my purpose. Two weeks ago, you found me when I was lost. That’s what we do for people we love, Kal. We help them when they need it.”

  “I’m scared,” I admit and his eyes soften.

  “Of what? Surely, not of us?”

  “A little… The first time, your mother got in our way. The second time, well, that was all timing. I’m afraid that the third time—”

  “The third time will be a charm. And if it’s not, we’ll try again.” He finishes for me.

  My heart is racing, a tear splashes on my hand before I realize that I’m crying.

  “You mean it, don’t you? We’re really doing this.” I didn’t realize until then that I’d been worried that we’d find a way to screw up this chance, too.

  “I’ve always been doing this. I was just waiting for you to catch up.” His smile is contagious, and my whole spirit responds.

  “You’re the love of my life,” I tell him.

  “You are the love of mine. That deserves at least a million chances, don’t you think?”

  I nod vigorously.

  “I’m here. I’m ready. I’m yours.”

  A smile breaks on his face, broad and proud, like he just reached the summit of a mountain he’s been scaling. I feel it all the way in the center of my heart.

  “Then, let’s start right now.” He pulls me into his arms for a hug and I let myself lean on him. I nestle against the soft cotton of his shirt and just savor the feeling of being safe and loved.

  “I have to go back to New York.” I break the silence.

  “I know you do.”

  “I have to
sell my place. Bianca needs to finish out the school year…” I look up at his face to see if he looks as worried as I feel about a potentially prolonged separation.

  His expression is completely relaxed. His eyes, with their thick fringe of lashes are smiling into mine. “Don’t worry, Kal. We’ve got this.”

  “I know. I just don’t know when I’ll be able to get back to Houston.”

  He shakes his head. “I have some business to take care of here. I might need a week or so. But until you’re able to move, I’ll be wherever you are.”

  Surprise rises in happy effervescent bubbles in my chest. “Really?”

  “Yes. I can work from anywhere. I don’t have any court appearances on my schedule and if I do, I’ve got a plane that can take me to Houston and back in a day. I’m not prepared to spend that kind of time apart again.”

  “But… my place, it’s so small and Bianca—” I stammer as I race through the logistics of his plans.

  “I’ve got a suite at the Baccarat. It’s going to be fine.” He strokes my arms reassuringly.

  “I’m so excited. Oh, Remi. Thank you.” I reach up to stroke the strong, sharp line of his jaw. He drops his head and presses a kiss to my mouth.

  It’s amazing, that in the gamut of extreme emotions I’ve run the last two days, that in the sanctuary of his arms, all I feel is peace.

  “It’ll give us the chance to do what we’ve never really done before.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Date. I want to take you to dinner. Go see a show. Walk you home and kiss you good night on your doorstep. Send flowers to your office. All of the things I thought I’d spend my twenties doing.”

  I’m overcome with happiness, I cover my mouth and squeal behind it.

  “I’ll take that to mean you like the sound of that?”

  I nod. “I love the sound of it.”

  The way my heart flutters in my chest almost tickles, and I laugh as happiness bubbles inside of me.

  “Okay. I’m going home,” he says abruptly

  “Wait. What?” I rise up on my knees and grab his arm to stop him from putting on his socks.

  “I want to do this right. Your daughter is here. I’d rather see her again for the first time when I’m coming to take her and her mother to breakfast. I want to win her over, too. Show her what it looks like when a man loves a woman. So, yeah. I’m going home.”

  He leans down to kiss me. I clutch his waist and say a silent prayer of thanks.

  “So, we’re good?” he asks when he breaks the kiss.

  “Yes. I love you. Like my life depends on it. With no limits. But, you have to bear with me. I was married for all of those years, but I’ve never really had a partner. I’ve always been by myself.”

  “Not anymore. And as long as I’m alive, you won’t be again.”

  Be still my beating heart. This magnificent man is mine.

  He always has been.

  I see us in his eyes, taking shape, growing, cracking, frayed around the edges even, but holding together because we’re writing our own story now, and in both versions, it ends with us.

  Chapter 45

  EPILOGUE

  THE LEGEND OF REMINGTON WILDE

  * * *

  REMI

  * * *

  “Are you sure? Once I hit send, it’s out of our hands,” Kal asks me for the hundredth time and I finally take the mouse from her and hit send myself.

  “It’s done. Out of our hands. Let the chips fall where they may.” I press a kiss to her lips and slam her laptop closed. I lean down, scoop her out of the chair and walk us back to our bedroom.

  “You’re awfully relaxed for a man who just sent his entire life story to a tv news magazine.” She says skeptically.

  I set her down on the edge of the bed and sit next to her.

  “It was written by someone I trust completely. I’m not worried at all. Besides, you titled it The Legend of Remington Wilde. Soon, it won’t just be a nickname, it’ll be a motherfucking title.”

  “Oh, God, you’re going to be impossible after this, aren’t you?”

  “If impossible and glorified are the same thing, then absofuckinglutely. Now, let’s fuck.” I waggle my eyebrows.

  “It’s about damn time,” she grumbles, and starts unbuttoning my shirt while we walk. I’m just pulling her skirt up when she stops walking and steps away from me.

  “Wait, our flight leaves in two hours, do we have that kind of time? We still need to get B—” She glances at her watch and I cover it with my hand.

  “Bianca can have a few more minutes with her dad. The plane will wait. But I can’t. Not another fucking minute.” I lie back and hook an arm around her waist to take her with me.

  She squeals in surprise but grabs my ass and pulls me into her.

  “You feel that? That’s six weeks’ worth of hard fucking you’ve missed.”

  She grins like the little rogue she is. “That was all your bright idea. I’ve been ready—”

  I cover her lips with mine and drink the rest of her words.

  Her mouth opens beneath mine and her tongue slides home.

  I planned on taking my time, feasting on her body and making up for everything I’ve missed for the last six weeks.

  But the minute I taste her, that goes out of the window because there’s no way I can take my time.

  “I want to feel your skin.” She pants against my mouth, writhing like she’s as desperate as I am.

  I push up and rest on my knees between her legs and pull the shirt over my head and her eyes light up.

  “You’re so fucking sexy, Remi.” She shimmies out of her T-shirt and unfastens her bra.

  My eyes nearly roll out of my head when I lay my eyes on perfect, plump and peaked nutmeg colored nipples. I lean down to take one in my mouth, and fuck if I don’t nearly come from just that one taste.

  Her hands are everywhere and while I’m feasting, she frees my dick and her warm, soft palm covers it and starts to stroke.

  My back arches and I thrust up into her fist. Her thumb swipes my head and spreads the small bead of precum around and I groan.

  “Fuck, you’re killing me.”

  I pull away from her, tug her skirt down to find that she’s completely bare underneath.

  “You’re not wearing any fucking panties?” I slide my fingers into the sweet slit between her thighs to see if she’s ready and then nearly black out when I feel how soaking wet she is.

  “I need to eat this pussy, Kal.” I bring my fingers to my mouth and suck her sweetness off my fingers.

  “After you fuck me. Please.” Her eyes are squeezed shut and I gaze down at this goddess who rules my life.

  The gold locket is around her neck where it belongs, and right underneath her left breast the word “Legendary” is scrawled in a tattoo that matches the one over my heart.

  I push into her fucking magical cunt and fill her to the hilt with one stroke. The bed’s headboard slams against the wall and our cries mingle as I start to fuck her.

  It’s hard, fast fucking. We’re not making love, but there’s love in every single thrust. She grips me, holds on to me and everything around us falls away.

  All that’s left is us, the love that’s been shaped by the journey we’ve gone on and two bodies that have always been each other’s homes.

  Those legends about happy endings are full of lies. It’s not a destination, it’s our fucking every day.

  This love of ours has been true since I was fourteen years old and it’ll be true until I take my last breath.

  We’ve been at the ranch house all week. I bought it from Gigi and we come out here almost every weekend so my girl can see the stars. It’s twilight. She’s sitting by my side on our porch swing. Bianca’s in the yard throwing a frisbee with the dog we got her as a housewarming gift when they moved in with me. Kal’s reading and I’m just soaking it all in.

  Life isn’t perfect, but it’s pretty damn close.

  My phone rings an
d I pluck it from the table where it’s resting.

  It’s Regan calling.

  “Hey, ‘sup?” I ask in a cheerful greeting.

  Her sobs fill my ear. “Remi… oh my God, please don’t read your email.”

  “Why? What happened? Hold on.” My fingers are clumsy because I am fucking nervous. Regan’s tears are not a common sight.

  I switch her to speakerphone so I can open my email. Her sobs fill the air and Kal sits up and closes her book. Both she and Bianca are watching me through eyes wide with alarm.

  “Don’t look. Marcel sent it to everyone.” She cries.

  “Sent what?” And then I see it.

  The email’s subject line reads, “Now the whole world knows that my wife is a whore.”

  I take her off speakerphone and put the phone back to my ear.

  “Regan, what’s in that email.” Her sobs just get louder.

  “He threw me out. In front of the kids. Remi, where are you?” She cries.

  “He did what? What did you say?” I demand loudly and glance at Kal. She’s looking at her phone in horror.

  I nudge her. She looks up and her eyes are full of tears. Oh shit.

  “What?” I mouth to her.

  She hands it to me, her eyes like a deer’s in the headlights.

  “He threw me out, Remi.” Regan repeats.

  But I don’t respond. Because on my screen is a picture of Regan. Her back is to the camera, but no other human being on this planet has that hair and that tattoo that says “Jezebel” right in the center of her back. She’s naked but for a scrap of fabric covering part of her ass.

  The part of her ass not covered by the fabric is cupped by the very big hand of a man I’m pretty sure is not Marcel.

  I can’t see his face because his head is bent to kiss her. The picture is embedded in an article from a French magazine I’ve never heard of. The headline screams, “La femme de Landel montre au monde qui elle est: La Jézabel” The wife of Landel shows the world who she is: Jezebel