“My room.” A smile curls her lips and she closes the door behind her.
“I don’t think I saw the kitchen yet,” I tease as her hands slide up my shoulders and her fingers lace behind my neck. “Was really looking forward to scoping out the way you organized your silverware drawer.”
“You making fun of me, Calder?” She grazes a kiss against my mouth, a kiss in the form of a smirk.
“I think it’s kind of hot actually.” I slip my hand along the underside of her jaw. “You being so uptight.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I get to be the one to wind you down.” Sliding my hands down her sides, I stop just below her ass, pulling her thighs against me until she’s secure in my arms. Next, I carry her to her bed, but before I let her go, I yank the coverlet, making a mess of the sheets before placing Aerin in the center of it all. Climbing over her, I lift the hem of her shirt, pressing my mouth against her fiery skin. “Screw perfection.” I move lower. “Screw order.” I press another kiss into her flesh and she exhales, reaching for what’s left of the messy sheets and taking a fistful.
Peeling her leggings and panties down her thighs, I make a point to toss them aside.
Relationships are messy.
People are complicated.
Expectations are a precursor to disappointment.
I don’t know what lies beyond this. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow or what’s going to come the day after that. All I know is whatever’s next, I want her in it—whatever that means.
Sliding her to the edge of the bed, I lower myself to my knees and hook her legs over my shoulders. Tasting her with my tongue, I feel her body writhe and watch her stomach cave and the small of her back arch. Her arousal fills my mouth, addictive and sweet, and I could stay here all night long if she let me.
Aerin Keane is mine. I have her undivided attention, her body, and her immediate future—and this time a signed contract has nothing to do with it.
I devour this beautiful creature until her body undulates and her breath quickens and her teeth dig into her bottom lip. When her hands find my hair and her body melts into the bed, I know she has finished. Climbing over her, I claim her mouth, letting her taste what I can do to her. She smiles, her nails spidering over my shoulders.
“This is crazy,” she whispers. “You know that, right?”
“I like to think of it as an adventure,” I say. Adventure of a lifetime …
Aerin pushes a breath through her nostrils, frowning almost, like she wants to say something.
“What?” I ask. “What are you thinking right now?”
“You’re adventurous,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“I’m not.”
I laugh. “That’s one of a million differences between us. Trust me, it’s not a deal-breaker for me if it’s not a deal-breaker for you.”
“You mentioned once that you own a plane,” she says.
“I do. A Cessna. Do small planes scare you?” I ask. But before she answers, I add, “You’d be surprised how many people hate the idea of flying non-commercial.” I brush a strand of hair from her forehead. “I would never force you to do anything that terrifies you, Aerin … but I might dare you.”
“Calder.” She thrusts her head back into the bed, groaning and trying not to laugh. “I’m so going to have words with Rush next time I see him. I can’t believe he sold me out like that.”
I silence her with another kiss. Selling her out is the last thing he did. He gave her her life back, the life she’d been denying herself all these years.
“How long are you in town?” she asks, cupping my face in her palm with a kind of tenderness I’ve never known from another human being in my adult life.
“I wish I could say indefinitely, but I can’t leave WellesTech hanging,” I say. “Those people have been loyal to my father’s company—some of them for decades—and until I find a buyer, I have to man that ship.”
“Noble.”
“I’ll only be here a few more days,” I say, “but you should come back with me. And if you can’t, then I’ll come here every weekend. We’ll figure out the logistics, but I promise you, Aerin, the distance between us should be the least of our concerns.”
“You sound like a man who knows what he wants.”
That would be the Welles in me—for better or worse.
“You hardly know me and already you know one of the most important things about me,” I say.
“What else don’t I know about you?” she muses, a glint in her eye. “Wait. Don’t answer that … not yet, anyway.”
Dare I assume she plans to embrace the unknown? The adventure we’re about to embark on?
“Didn’t plan to,” I say.
Aerin gives my shoulder a light smack before her hand slinks behind my neck. Inhaling the sweet tang of her arousal in the air mixed with the wild jasmine scent permeating from her warm skin, I know this isn’t heaven, but it’s got to be the next best thing.
“I want to take you somewhere tomorrow,” she says before massaging her lips together.
“Okay … where?”
“I want you to meet my parents.”
Under ordinary circumstances, I’d be choking on my words right now, eyeing the nearest exit, and coming up with some excuse on the fly that would prevent me from taking such an enormous step.
We sit up, perching ourselves on the edge of her bed, and she hooks her hand over my shoulder before nuzzling her cheek against it.
“Before you start freaking out …” she begins to say.
“Not freaking out.” I turn toward her.
“Before I scare you away …”
“Not scared.” I shrug.
“I want you to see where I came from,” she explains. “I’ve never brought anyone to my childhood home. I’ve never introduced anyone to my parents. I just feel like, if you can accept where I’ve come from then you can accept where I’m going. And you can accept me.”
“Aerin … I accepted you the minute you ran into me and spilled coffee down your shirt.”
Her jaw loosens and she scoots over a few inches. “Seriously?”
“Nah. I didn’t know who you were then.”
“Calder.” Her arms fold, though I can’t tell if she’s teasing.
“Fine.” I pretend to roll my eyes. “I ran into you. I was coming out of my father’s office, not paying attention, and I made you spill your coffee. For that, I sincerely apologize.”
“Thank you.” She smiles, sitting a little straighter than before, her arms relaxed at her sides. Pulling in a slow breath, she lets it go. “Was that so hard?”
She has no idea.
Looking like a klutz in front of a beautiful woman on one of the worst days of my life had my ego all kinds of refusing to admit it was my fault.
I pull her into my lap and thread my fingers through hers. The apology was hard, but my cock is harder. And every second I spend looking at her and not burying myself deep inside of her is pure torture.
“I want you so damn much.” I kiss her neck, my fingers tugging at the hem of her top. “I can’t wait another minute.”
Aerin’s hips grind, her pussy circling the outline of the throbbing ache in my jeans.
“Then I’m all yours. You’ve got me, Calder.” She whispers the sweetest words I’ve ever heard from the sweetest lips I’ve ever tasted.
Epilogue
Calder
Five Years Later
“Did you know they have soccer for three-year-olds?” I ask my wife as she slices strawberries and bananas for our toddler son, Holden.
She shoots me a wink. “I did. Did you know that our son doesn’t turn three until next spring?”
“That’s crazy you should say that because I’m actually well aware of the fact that our son turns three on April third of next year,” I say, keeping my tone light.
Strutting toward the kitchen table, a plate of sliced fruit in one hand, she gives my shoulder a
playful swat before bending to kiss the top of my head.
Our son—who happens to be the spitting image of myself at his age with a mop full of dark hair and a hint of mischief in his honey-brown irises—flails his arms before grabbing a fistful of banana and cramming it into his mouth like it’s his last meal on earth.
Didn’t learn that from me. I’ll give Uncle Rush the credit for that.
“All I’m saying is let’s let him be two for a hot minute, babe.” My wife chuckles, but I don’t ask what she finds so funny. I already know. She thinks I’m a Helicopter Super Dad, but in the best of ways.
I never knew how badly I wanted to be a father until she woke me up one Sunday morning with the most terrified look on her face, tears in her eyes, and a little white stick clutched in her hand. I was disoriented at first, half thinking I was dreaming and half wondering what she was freaking out about, and then she said the words that forever changed the trajectory of our lives. “Calder, I’m pregnant.”
We hadn’t been trying. We’d been talking about trying. Big difference.
Turns out that morning she realized she was a couple weeks late and grabbed a test at the grocery store while she left me fast asleep in bed.
I pulled her into my arms, inhaled the sweet scent of her Daisy perfume as it radiated off her warm skin, and felt her shudder against me. Just a week ago, we decided we most definitely wanted a family—a large family—but we were going to wait two more years. She was still growing her business and had just hired four new employees, and I was starting my foundation, The Gwyneth Connection, which aims to help those and their families who’d been affected by faulty medical equipment.
“Why are you crying?” I whispered into her ear as I hugged her tight. “This is great news.”
She peeled herself away, dabbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “Really? You’re not disappointed?”
I laughed through my nose, brushing a dark wave away from her eyes. “Why would I be disappointed, Aer? You’ve just given me the best gift anyone could’ve even given me. Are you? Are you disappointed?”
“God, no.” She shook her head before splaying her palm across her belly. “Terrified, yes. Thinking of how this is going to impact my two-year plan, yes. Wondering how we’re going to decide on a name since we have different taste in pretty much everything, absolutely. Disappointed? Never.”
I cupped her cheek in my hand before stealing the sweetest kiss I’d ever known from the lips of a woman I was privileged to exchange vows with only a year before.
Seven months to that day, we welcomed an eight-pound baby boy, Holden James Welles. We opted to break the Calder Welles chain and not to name him after anyone. It was important to us that he’s able to be his own person and not grow up living in the shadow of the namesakes that lived before him.
“What are you thinking about?” Aerin takes a seat across from her two guys, cupping her face on the top of her hand.
I pop a sliced strawberry between my lips and smile. “You.”
She rolls her eyes, fighting a grin. “One of these days you’re going to surprise me and give me an answer like … Buddhism … or George Clooney.”
“Never,” I say. When I’m not thinking of her, I’m thinking of Holden. And when I’m not thinking of either of them, let’s be real: I’m probably sleeping. “What’s the plan for today?”
Aerin’s face is lit as she watches our son. I catch her doing that sometimes, just staring at him like he’s the most wonderful thing she’s ever seen in her entire life. I catch myself doing it sometimes too. It still blows my mind that we made something so perfect.
“Rush is in town,” she reminds me. “Mom and Dad are having a cookout at two. Thought we could do the zoo for a few hours this morning, let him catch a nap, then head over?”
“Perfect.” I stand, clearing our breakfast dishes off the table and carrying them to the sink, where I begin to rinse them off before loading the dishwasher. Glancing out the window before me, I spot our rescue mutt, Barnaby, chasing a bird in the backyard before sneaking a quick drink of water from the pool.
I’ve never been a dog person, never owned a dog, never so much as thought about owning a dog, but when Aerin and I were mapping out our dream life together the night that I proposed to her, we both agreed we wanted that Apple Pie Americana life that neither of us ever had.
“Hey, Calder?” Aerin asks as I rinse another plate.
“Yeah?”
“Forgot to tell you, the lock on the garage door is sticking again.”
“I’m on it.” I dry my hands and grab a can of WD40 from under the sink. It’s moments like these, moments that seemingly mean nothing at the time, that remind me just how lucky I am to have a comfortable place to rest my head, a fiercely loyal woman by my side, and a healthy son who holds a spot in the center of it all—a son who’s going to break the chain of dysfunction.
I head out to the garage, shaking the can as I walk. A quick spray on the lock and it’s back in order.
Our house isn’t glamorous or extravagant—that isn’t our style. Neither is our relationship. We wear sweats more than we used to. We order takeout more than we frequent the hottest LA eateries. Our last date night was spent at home, watching Netflix and drinking wine from sippy cups because one of us forgot to run the dishwasher and we were both too exhausted to hand wash a couple of glasses.
To anyone else, this is just an ordinary Southern California Saturday morning, but to me, it’s just another day in paradise.
Sample - THE MARRIAGE PACT
Synopsis
I was sixteen when I vowed I would never marry him.
We shook on it. Pinky swore. Even put it in writing and all but signed our names in blood.
It was the one and only thing we ever agreed on.
To the world, he’s Prince Julian, Duke of Montcroix, second in line to the Chamont throne. Panty-melting accent. Royal charm. Hypnotic presence. Blindingly gorgeous. Laundry list of women all over the world who would give their firstborn for the chance to marry him. Most eligible bachelor in the free world …
But to me, he’s nothing more than the son of my father’s best friend—the pesky blue-eyed boy who made it his mission to annoy the ever living hell out of me summer after summer as our families vacationed together, our parents oblivious to our mutual disdain as they joked about our “betrothal.”
He was also my first kiss.
And my first taste of heartbreak so cataclysmic it almost broke me.
I meant it with every fiber of my soul when I swore I’d never marry him.
But on the eve of my 24th birthday, His Royal Highness had the audacity to show up at my door after years of silence and make a demand that will forever change the trajectory of our lives: “We have to break our pact.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Reader,
This story takes place in the fictional island kingdom of Chamont, which is English-speaking but neither British nor North American—more of a hybrid. Even the prince’s accent is fictional (think Dorit Kemsley from Real Housewives of Beverly Hills … not exactly an English accent but very proper and elegant and articulate). Also, some of the terminology Prince Julian uses is distinctly British while some is distinctly North American. Roll with it and enjoy!!
xo – Winter
EPIGRAPH
I fell in love with a world through her eyes. —Atticus
Chapter 1
Emelie
“Em? There’s a guy here to see you …” My best friend Gillian stands in the doorway of my bathroom as I hover over the sink, scrubbing tonight’s makeup from my face.
My feet ache from hours spent dancing in the most beautiful crystal-encrusted heels known to man, and my head has finally stopped spinning from the too-many-to-count top shelf cocktails. My body is in the process of thanking me for changing out of a skintight bandage dress and into jersey pajama pants and a cotton tank sans bra. I’m two point five seconds from crawling under the cool covers in my da
rk room and succumbing to a long, hard sleep.
After the year I’ve had, I needed tonight, but I have a feeling I’m going to be paying for it all day tomorrow.
“He probably has the wrong address.” I press a dry washcloth against my skin before moving for my moisturizer.
“Look, I admire your dedication to your skincare routine after a night on the town, but I’m serious. There’s a guy at your door and he asked for you.” Gillian bites her lip before continuing. “And, um, he’s insanely, ridiculously hot.”
I roll my eyes. Earlier tonight, a few of my friends were trying to hook me up with a dark-eyed stranger sitting at the end of the bar. It was every bit as awkward and embarrassing as it sounds, and he was clearly not having his best night. He just wanted to be alone in a room full of strangers. I get it. I’ve been there.
“Did Stacia tell him where I live?” I ask. “The guy from the bar?”
Gillian laughs through her nose. “No, no, no. The guy at your door is definitely not the guy from the bar.”
I shoot her a look. I don’t know what she’s trying to pull, but I feel like I’m being set up.
“Did Hadley make a fake Tinder account in my name again?” I ask, one hand cocked on my hip.
Just because it’s the eve of my twenty-fourth birthday and I’ve been going through a rough patch and a dry spell doesn’t mean I’m in the mood to hook up with some random guy hand-selected by the most well-meaning yet least discerning friend in my group.
Gillian’s hands lift to the air and she shrugs. “I don’t know who this guy is, but he looks official.”
“Official?”
“He’s wearing a nice suit and he’s got a security-looking guy with him.”
“I’m so confused.”
“You and me both.” Gillian yanks me by the crook of my elbow and leads me down the hall and toward the front door. “So why don’t you just see who he is and what he wants?”
“You realize how sketchy this sounds,” I say.
The Complete P.S. Series Page 55