CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
FOUR MONTHS LATER
DANIKA
To say that our wedding got the royal treatment was a huge compliment to all things royal. The moment James got wind that we were even considering using his resort to say our vows, the diamond encrusted red carpet was rolled out, and the rest was sort of history.
The ceremony itself was held in the Cavendish Hotel & Casino’s world-renowned atrium. The atrium was a huge draw for the casino, so the fact that they roped the entire thing off for three hours just for our vows, was huge. In fact, I’d never heard of such a thing.
And what was even more extravagant, James had an entirely new all white garden arrangement put together just for us.
I confronted James directly when I heard a rumor about how much the new arrangement had cost.
He’d just smiled charmingly, and diffused the situation with ease. “We do these floral arrangements all the time, and they’re often expensive. We won’t take it all down right after the wedding.
We’ll make full use of it.”
I was appeased, because, grand gesture though it was, at least I could be sure it wasn’t wasteful.
I told all of the bridesmaids that I wasn’t wearing a strapless gown when we went shopping for my dress, but by the end of the day I’d found my dream dress, and lo and behold, it was strapless, and it was just perfect.
It was ivory but the fitted, elongated bodice was so heavily beaded and exquisitely embroidered that the top looked silver. It had a curved neckline that made my curves apparent, but didn’t give too much of a show. It was undecided what was more of a showstopper, that beaded bodice or the tiered ruffle silk organza skirt with a chapel train.
It was the most elegant of princess gowns, and I adored it.
I’d tried on twenty dresses, and the instant I walked out in that one, everyone agreed that it was the one.
The bridesmaids wore white floor-length lace gowns with pale yellow sashes.
Tristan wore a classic crisp black tux, with a white shirt and tie.
The
groomsmen wore the same, but with yellow ties.
Frankie and Estella, arm in arm, were the first of the bridal party to walk down the aisle.
As the maid of honor, Frankie had tried hard to get me a female stripper for the bachelorette party. She’d only given up on the idea when I’d pointed out that it was clearly a Homer gift.
It hadn’t been a real bachelorette party, anyway. We’d combined with the guys and James had wound up throwing us a party at his house. I thought the guys had gotten the better deal, as there were two hot lesbians making out for half of it.
Bianca and James were next. They didn’t walk arm in arm, but with one of his hands at her hip, the other in the loop in her choker.
Next followed Lana and Akira. Lana had given birth just five weeks before, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her. She was one of those lucky bitches that bounced back right away.
Even as they walked, I saw them both steal a peek at the row where Tutu sat, holding their new son, Kaiko. I’d gotten to hold him earlier. He was calm and already clearly took after his father in looks, except for his blue eyes, though it was too soon to tell if those would change.
Dahlia and Adair were next. They’d eloped about a year prior, and seemed to be doing well. Stephan and Javier walked down together.
Todd and
Trinity, two of Tristan’s very close support group from rehab, walked next.
Cory walked down alone, since the numbers were uneven, and Kenny paired up with Bev, since Jerry was walking me.
Bev gave Tristan her blessing after one tense lunch at her favorite Italian restaurant. The mob place. And while Jerry
and
me
watched
as
Bev
interrogated Tristan for a solid hour, a few tables away from the godfather, I’d of sworn she was the scariest person in the room.
But it had all turned out well, and she hadn’t hesitated to join the wedding party.
It was a very long aisle to walk and a beautiful one. Big heaping bouquets of every white flower imaginable lined the pathway, dwarfed by colossal white vases filled to brimming with even more painstakingly arranged bouquets.
I clutched Jerry’s arm hard, but that was for emotional support. I didn’t need to use him as a crutch. After having partial knee replacement surgery over five months ago, my gait was smoother than it had been since the accident. I’d never be taking up ballroom again, but I could take a turn or two around the dance floor now, which would surely come in handy later.
It would never be perfect, but it was better and close enough for me.
The minute we began to walk, a soft guitar began to play, followed by Tristan’s voice, singing our song.
Incidentally, it’d been the biggest hit off their latest album.
I met him and his devastating smile at the altar, and we said our vows again.
I didn’t hope, but knew, that this time would be different from the first.
ONE YEAR LATER
It was the longest flight I’d ever taken.
Well, at least it felt that way. I’d actually taken the exact same route twice before, but this time was different.
This time that flight felt like the longest thirteen hours of my life.
It didn’t help that it felt like Tristan wasn’t even sitting next to me. When booking the flights, the idea of first class was all well and good. A rip off money wise, but I’d been excited to experience it again, as we had on the first two trips.
At the moment, I’d rather have been in coach sitting next to him, instead of in an isolated pod, feet away. We couldn’t even touch. The best we could manage was to talk through a lowered partition.
Our pods were at least next to each other, and we were face to face. Still, I felt restless and antsy, and I knew that if we’d been sitting together, if I could have just held his hand, it would have helped.
He was reclining, his eyes closed. I didn’t understand how he could be sleeping at a time like this.
I wanted to shake him awake. I needed company right now.
“Psst,” I called to him.
He smiled, eyes still closed. He hadn’t been sleeping.
I looked around, grabbed a grape off my fruit plate, and threw it at him.
He laughed, opening his eyes. He looked so relaxed and happy. I had no idea how he could be so calm.
I reached for an almond, and beaned him in the forehead with it. He just kept laughing.
“What if we can’t…? What if they won’t…?” I was speaking in a furious, agitated whisper, so stressed I couldn’t even get the full questions out.
He moved his chair until he was sitting up, giving me the Troublesome smile.
The one that had changed my life.
“Come over here,” he said softly.
I looked around. “I can’t. We have to stay in our assigned seats. And besides, there’s no room over there.”
“Come over here,” he repeated softly, his smile even softer.
I glanced around, saw that the two flight attendants in our cabin were working in the galley, then moved quickly around until I was standing in the entrance to his pod.
He didn’t hesitate, pulling me down to sit on his lap.
“We can’t do that!”
He shifted until I was squeezed in next to him, his arm thrown over me. It was a very tight fit, but I felt instantly better.
His free hand reached for mine, and he threaded our fingers together while I burrowed my cheek into his strong chest, breathing deep as I listened to the steady thud of his heart.
“Stephan told me the trick to having sex in an airplane bathroom. I think the flight attendants are too busy to notice us. Whataya say?”
I elbowed him hard in the ribs.
He grunted then started laughing. “Not the time, huh?”
He stroked my hair for a while before he spoke again, voice serious now.
“Everything is going to work out just how we want it to.” He said it softly against the top of my head. “In just a few days, we’ll be flying home as different people. Everything is about to change. It’s going to be everything we’ve talked about, all we’ve dreamed of.”
I squeezed his fingers until mine turned white. “I’m just so afraid we won’t get to—”
“We will. I promise you this: We’re not going home without her, not this time.”
“She won’t understand us. What if she doesn’t like us?”
“Love
has
its
own
language,
sweetheart, and of course she’ll like us.
We’re her parents. It might take some time, but we’ll teach her what that means. It’s going to be just perfect.
You’ll see.”
Her name was Ming, and I loved her before I ever met her.
I fell in love with a picture, and it was true love. The unconditional kind. I didn’t get to take her home with me until she was nine months old, but that didn’t make me any less her mother.
It wasn’t blood that created a mother.
It was love. Ming taught me that.
Tristan and I clutched hands as we entered the orphanage. I recognized her instantly. They had her in an outfit I’d sent her, a little dress with strawberries all over it. They’d even put her in the matching ruffled shorts and bonnet.
I started crying, but Tristan kept pulling me along.
“I’m a mess,” I told him, patting my cheeks.
“You’ll be fine. And don’t cry. I’m not even proposing to you today.” It helped. I laughed.
Ming looked right at me, blinking her big dark eyes.
Tristan got to her first.
I hung back, watching.
He crouched down in front of her. She was being held by one of the ladies that worked there. Ming seemed attached to the woman, clinging to her.
Tristan held out his arms to our daughter, his smile so tender it made my breath catch.
Ming touched his hand, studying him.
He had to be the biggest person she’d ever set eyes on, but she wasn’t scared.
She looked fascinated by him.
“Hi Ming,” he told her very softly, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m your daddy. You have no idea how long your mommy and I have been waiting for you.”
She was too young to understand, and even if she’d been older, she had very little exposure to English. Still, some communication seemed to make it through to her, and she launched herself at him.
He hugged her tight,
straightening. Her little head looked so perfect, so trusting, laying on his strong shoulder.
Like they’d done it a thousand times.
Like it was fate.
His tender eyes swung to me, and they were bright with tears. He smiled at me, biting his lip. “Come here, Mommy.” I moved as if in a dream, touching her little back, stroking her short black hair.
She pulled away from his chest to look at me, her little face so solemn.
“Hello Ming,” I choked out. “I’m your mommy, and I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you.”
She touched my face, running her tiny fingers over my brow, my nose, over my tear-streaked cheeks.
I held my arms out to her, holding my breath, and after one endless minute, she launched herself into my arms.
I held her tight and never let go.
We sat in economy class on the way home, as babies weren’t allowed in first class. We sat side by side, and Ming was our lap child. I couldn’t have been happier.
We took turns holding her. I couldn’t stop staring at her, even when she slept.
“Pinch me, Tristan,” I told him quietly, as we just stared at her in wonder. “I must be dreaming. This little angel can’t be ours.”
He actually pinched me.
“Ow!” I said, giving him a dirty look. I didn’t dare punch his arm with the baby.
His smiling lips moved close, kissing the corner of my mouth. “This is real, and you aren’t dreaming.”
TWO YEARS LATER
James let us borrow his private jet and crew for our trip to Sofia, Bulgaria. It was a Godsend, with Ming, now a precocious toddler, literally climbing the walls. The flight time was fifteen hours and counting, and it would have been miserable, if he hadn’t done us this huge favor.
“Nikowash,” she said, for maybe the hundredth time. She was practicing.
“That’s it. Very good,” I told her.
“My brover.” She jumped up and down, the yellow ruffles of her dress bouncing. Her hair had gotten quite long, and I’d smoothed it into two pigtails that bounced as much as her dress.
Of course, I was biased, but she was the most beautiful little girl in the world.
“Yes, yes he is,” I assured her.
Tristan plucked her from the aisle, settling her in his lap. “Your baby brother. Trust me, you’re going to appreciate the distinction as you two get older.”
“Baby brover,” she repeated dutifully.
She was very much her daddy’s girl.
His name was Nikolaj. He had the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen.
He was born in Bulgaria and dropped off at an orphanage by his biological mother at two weeks old. We were extremely lucky to take him home at just ten months old. He wouldn’t let go of Tristan’s neck for the entire plane ride back to Vegas. Ming kept crawling onto her daddy’s lap and giving her new brother kisses on the cheek. She must have done it a hundred times. We couldn’t stop her.
He was ours.
Even our little Princess Ming knew it.
I was no more controlled, stroking his back, his little hands, bending to rub my lips on his slumbering, baby soft cheek.
Tristan held him without complaint, often shutting his eyes and pressing his cheek or lips to our baby boy’s head. It was official. We’d been through hell, but here we were, in our own little slice of heaven.
TWO YEARS LATER
I had the kids over at Bev’s house for some girl time. Nikolaj was climbing all over Bev, and Ming was getting her hair braided by Frankie. It was a pretty typical Thursday afternoon for us all.
Except that it suddenly wasn’t. Frankie had just asked me the strangest thing, and then Bev’s response had absolutely floored me. I just sat there in stunned silence for a while, trying to figure it all out.
Frankie and Estella wanted a baby, but they were missing one of the important ingredients to make one, so they were in need of a donor.
“Estella wants to breed a linebacker, I think,” Frankie joked, but she looked ill at ease. This couldn’t be an easy thing to ask somebody.
And…”why are you asking me?
Shouldn’t you be asking Tristan about this?”
“No, I think this is the proper course of action,” Bev butted in. “What could he say, without your permission?”
She had a point.
“But now I just need his permission,” I said numbly.
“If you told him you were okay with it, he’d do it,” Frankie pointed out. And she was right.
“Which one of you wants to carry the baby?” Bev asked her.
Frankie’s nose wrinkled up. “We’re working that out. You’re going to think we’re demented, but we both want to get pregnant.”
Bev nodded. “Yes, you’re right. I do think you’re both demented. Danika, aren’t you guys trying to adopt again?” I nodded. “Yes. Domestically, this time. You know how it goes, though. A lot of waiting. We are very lucky we got our first two babies as fast as we did.”
“I might have an idea that will give both you and Estella a chance to go through a pregnancy,” Bev said quietly to Frankie, as sweet Nikolaj kissed her all over the face. He was the most affectionate boy.
That stumped me, and I just stared at her.
“Oh yeah?” Frankie asked her, sounding just as stumped.
“One of you can get inseminated, and the other can act as a surrogate for Tristan and Danika.
A baby for
everyone.”
Cue the long pause.
I blinked. Several times. “Bev, you know I had a hysterectomy.”
She was unfazed. “I also know they were able to leave your ovaries intact.
There’s a chance you can still produce eggs, my dear. And eggs, combined with sperm and a surrogate makes baby. And these two lunatics want to get pregnant.
There are no certainties, but it’s certainly worth looking into. The stars seem to be aligning for this.”
“I feel a double pregnancy coming on,” Frankie said, looking just thrilled about it.
I felt like an idiot. I’d heard the lingo, but I’d never even realized that you could produce eggs after a hysterectomy.
After the idea was presented, I was afraid to even give it too much thought.
Though I did tell Tristan, the moment I saw him.
“Frankie and Estella want your sperm for their baby,” I began.
He blinked, then bent down and kissed me on the nose. “Will they buy me dinner first?”
I rolled my eyes and tried to stifle a smile, then waited patiently while our children mobbed him. He had one smiling child on each hip when he looked at me again. “How do you feel about this?”
I chewed on my lip, but this was the easy part. “I’m okay with it. I’m excited for them. I want another baby, too. For us.”
Ming chimed in loudly that she would also like another baby. She was baby crazed.
“Well yeah. We’ve already decided we’re having at least two more. We just have to be patient.”
I didn’t bring up the second part until the kids were sound asleep in their rooms, and we were in our kinky bed.
I was naked and straddling him. I’d just given him a hell of a ride, and we were both still panting from our efforts.
He was rubbing the side of my thigh with one hand, my bad knee with the other, and looking at my body in a way that let me know he was quickly going to be ready for a second round.
“There’s a chance I can still produce eggs,” I told him.
He sat up, then flipped us both until I was on my back, and he was looming over me. “I don’t understand.” He started playing with my *, watching the action with enthralled attention, still half buried in me. Clearly, this was not the best time to bring it up.
“Frankie said she’d be a surrogate for us, and there’s a chance I can still produce eggs.”
He pulled his hand back, looking confused. “I don’t understand.”
“I guess they were able to leave my ovaries intact with my hysterectomy.”
“I didn’t know they could do that.”
“Yeah, me neither.
What do you
think? About giving it a try?”
“I’m happy with whatever makes you happy. I want more kids, but I’m not at all picky about how we get them.” God, I adored this man, every single inch of him.
Though a few minutes later, I might have loved several specific inches of him best.
Of course, there were a million ifs and plenty of odds not working in our favor.
All three of us were over thirty. After a lot of stressful doctor’s visits and nerve-wracking test results, Estella and Frankie wound up being pregnant at the same time. They even wound up with close to the same due date.
Frankie was carrying our baby, Estella theirs. And coincidentally, Bianca and James finally decided to get pregnant around that time. There were a solid twelve months in there where the four of us couldn’t be in the same room without talking about all things baby. I loved it.
Jared Jeremiah Vega was born huge and healthy.
Tristan couldn’t stop crying when he wrote that name down on the birth certificate.
He was born only five days past his due date, but weighed in at a whopping eleven pounds. Frankie blamed Tristan one hundred percent for that, and cursed him up and down every single time she saw him for nearly a year.
Maria Sosa-Abelli was born just days after Jared. She was only five pounds, but healthy and beautiful.
Ming was in heaven. “We have so many babies now!” she said, twirling her pink dress around like a mad woman.
None of the adults in the room could stop laughing about that.
Nikolaj didn’t care for the hospital, but agreed that his little brother was,
“Pwetty cool.”
We’d had to buy a mini-van. I was in heaven. We had so many kids that I was officially a min-van mom. We loaded them all up and took our Jared home.
We didn’t sleep the first night. When I say we, I mean all of us. Tristan and I couldn’t tear ourselves away from the nursery, and Ming wouldn’t stay in her bed. Even Nikolaj couldn’t stop coming to check on his new brother.
“Why did we name him Jared, Daddy?” Ming asked between adoring glances at her baby brother.
He got choked up at the question, but eventually, haltingly, he started to tell our Ming the story of his brother, Jared.
It was an important story, and though she wasn’t old enough to really understand it now, I knew that we would be sure to teach her that, though those we loved may die, our love could keep them close to us forever.
Ming fell asleep halfway through his story, sitting on his lap in the rocking chair. He just held her closer, kissing her on the top of the head. Nikolaj had fallen asleep in his other arm a while back.
I was sitting in a rocking chair facing his, cradling Jared in my arms.
We shared a look. What a journey it had been. I had a whole lot of happy under my belt these days, but never in my life had I been so happy as I was in that exact moment.
“I love you,” I mouthed at him.
He flashed one ruinous dimple at me.
“Love you more.”
BOOKS BY R.K. LILLEY
IN FLIGHT (UP IN THE AIR #1) MILE HIGH (UP IN THE AIR #2) GROUNDED (UP IN THE AIR #3)
LANA (AN UP IN THE AIR
NOVELLA)
BREATHING
FIRE
(HERETIC
DAUGHTERS #1)
BAD
THINGS
(TRISTAN
&
DANIKA #1)
ROCK BOTTOM (TRISTAN & DANIKA #2)
LOVELY TRIGGER (TRISTAN & DANIKA #3)
AND COMING SOON…
THE WILD SIDE (A NOVEL)
CROSSING
FIRE
(HERETIC
DAUGHTERS #2)
MR. BEAUTIFUL (UP IN THE AIR
#4)
Thanks so much for reading this series! Keep up to date on all of my current
and
future
projects
at
www.rklilley.com, and if you liked this book, please, please, please, review and tell all of your friends!
Here’s an excerpt from my upcoming standalone erotic romance.
Coming 2014
THE WILD SIDE
ARE YOU READY TO TAKE A
WALK?
Alasdair Masters is in a rut. He just hit forty, has been nearly celibate for the past year, and his life has turned into a daily sequence of lonely patterns that revolve around avoiding human contact.
His tidy life is turned on its head when a hot young blonde at the gym that’s been pseudo-stalking him decides to rock his world. A very young blonde. Way, way too young for him. The problem is, he can’t seem to tell her no, and she just keeps coming back for more.
It doesn’t help that he’s ninety percent sure she’s a criminal, and still, he can’t seem to turn her down. What is a dull introvert to do when a chaotic cyclone that oozes sexuality comes twisting into his life?
At first, he thinks she’ll give him a heart attack, but after his twenty-year marriage ended a year ago, he’s been a little lost, and when she comes crashing into his life, he realizes that he’s never felt more alive.
Is a walk on the wild side just what he needs to get his life on track or a disaster in the making? Is it possible for someone that much younger to be just what he needs, or is she a fortune hunter, as everyone keeps telling him? Is it his hormones telling him that the mysterious younger woman is the one, or could it be more?
I set my two perfectly folded gym towels down on a chair by the treadmill and got on the machine.
I always brought two. I wasn’t even sure why. I was a creature of habit.
Once I started a pattern, I tended to stick to it, rain or shine.
Kind of like my marriage. Of course, that hadn’t lasted forever, but that hadn’t exactly been my choice.
I punched in my settings and began my warm-up. I had already done twenty minutes of stretching at home. My three-hour daily workout was very precise. I had a family history chock-full of heart disease, and so I aggressively fought to stay healthy. I was intelligent enough to know that I’d brought the whole thing to an extreme, but honestly, what else was I supposed to do with my free time? I was busy enough with work, but my work involved a lot of sitting down and tapping away at a computer, and I felt I had to counter all of that physical inactivity, somehow.
I’d just had my dreaded fortieth birthday, and I felt like I was in as good of shape as I’d ever been. My waistline wasn’t growing, thanks to my three hours a day in the gym and an impeccable diet, and my muscles were well toned and good sized. I had no idea what age I actually looked, but I figured the liberal salt and pepper at my temples brought it at least close to forty. I didn’t really give it much thought, as I stayed largely to myself, and any time I was on camera, I went out of my way to avoid seeing it.
The gym was busy, as it usually was, so my time there was literally the most social I was in an average day, and I usually got away with a nod and a good morning to the receptionist on the way in.
That was it.
The only verbal
interaction in my day.
Sometimes I had to talk on the phone for work, and once, maybe twice a year, I did a few television or radio interviews.
And that was it.
The scary part was it was effortless for me. It had started with an ugly divorce just over one year ago, and slowly shaped its way into this. A sad, old man that could have easily embraced a life as a complete recluse.
I did still go out of my way to work out at an upscale gym, instead of just building one in my house. I had the room. I certainly had the money. I figured it was only a matter of time before I resorted to that, too.
The strange part of it was, I wasn’t worried about it because I was lonely. I was worried because I wasn’t. I did miss being with a woman in the literal sexual sense, but that was about it. I’d considered the idea of hiring a prostitute briefly, but even that seemed like an ordeal. I detested breaking the law. It was so very chaotic.
A familiar figure moved onto the machine next to me, and I met smiling light green eyes in the mirror, nodded once briefly, then looked back down.
She was a shapely little blonde woman that had started sharing my gym hours nine days ago.
Girl, I corrected myself. She was a girl, way too young for me to even sneak a long glance at, though I was only human, and she was wearing next to nothing, so I’d caught many, many glances.
She probably thought I was dad material, I told myself, as she started to jog on the machine, her full, perky breasts bouncing with every smooth step.
She really needed to go shopping for a more supportive sports bra, I thought to myself, my eyes catching on her, then darting away, then glancing again within a few bounces.
She wore only a hot pink sports bra and the tiniest skintight white lycra shorts I’d ever seen in my life. Her abs were toned, waist tiny, her skin smooth in a way that happened only in the very young.
Way, way too young for you, I reminded myself, my furtive gaze catching on her lithe hips as she jogged her sexy little heart out.
My eyes moved up to her face, and I flushed to find her watching me watching her. I looked down and kept on jogging.
There’d been no censure in her eyes, and so I found mine wandering back to her face.
She was beautiful. Not a scrap of makeup on, her white-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and still she could’ve stopped traffic. A real bombshell.
None of it was artificial either, just plain old good genetics at work.
She was friendly, too. I wasn’t sure why, but she usually took the machine next to mine, if it was empty, though there were lots to choose from. She always had a smile for me, too.
Maybe I reminded her of her dad. Or f*ck, her grandpa.
It didn’t bear thinking about it.
I’d never been with a younger woman, let alone one that much younger. Hell, she’d probably give me a heart attack. I shook off the thought. A flawless little thing like that wouldn’t give me a second glance, and I told myself that was a good thing.
For all I knew, she could have been jailbait. Needless to say, for a man that’d never even had a speeding ticket, even the idea of that was too scandalous to linger on.
Still, my eyes were drawn, time and again, to her perfect figure jogging hard on that treadmill.
Her legs were
incredible, long and slender, bare from the top of her thigh to her ankles, and so toned and tan.
I made myself look away and not look back.
I hit the one-hour mark on the machine when I saw her slow and stop out of the corner of my eye. This had become a pattern, too. I did exactly one hour of cardio, before I hit the free weights. She seemed to be working a similar routine, and every day I saw her, it became even more similar.
I almost jumped in surprise when she approached me directly, standing on the very front of my machine, to get my attention.
My eyes traveled slowly up, trying not to linger on the way her breasts rose out of her sports bra’s neckline as she leaned into my machine.
She was
spilling out of the thing.
She beamed at me.
I swallowed hard, catching the side bar and swinging first one leg, and then the other, onto the footrests on the sides, coming to a stop.
I popped out an ear bud, raising my brows in what I hoped was a look of polite interest.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hey,” I panted back, shutting the treadmill down. May as well quit, since I’d reached my goal.
She handed me my towel, and I took it, immediately wiping my brow. This was a new development and a strange one, to be sure.
She held up the second towel, my OCD
towel, if you will. “I saw that you have two. I forgot mine. You mind if I borrow it?”
I shook my head. “Go for it. Glad I could help.”
She smiled again. Her teeth were gorgeous, straight and white against her tan skin. “What’s your name?” she asked me.
I was caught off guard, and so it took me a few extra beats to answer awkwardly. “Alasdair.”
She
raised
her
brows,
looking
intrigued. “Nice name. It has a lot of character. Do you shorten it at all, or should I call you that, Alasdair?” Hearing her say my name made me feel indecent.
Just beastly.
I briefly
considered cutting my workout short.
“Sometimes my friends call me Dair.”
“Dair. I like that too. And are you daring, Dair?”
“Not particularly,” I said quickly, my heart pounding. I couldn’t quite believe that she was hitting on me, but if she was, I needed to put a quick stop to it.
Way too young, I told myself firmly.
I moved to the weights, and she followed like we were old friends. I started doing curls, eyes glued to her as she grabbed some smaller weights and started doing dead lifts with a hammer curl.
The sight of that nearly had me slack-jawed. The move consisted of her bending down at the waist, her legs straight, and touching the ground, then lifting back, her ponytail bouncing, back arched, her incredible ass sticking out, and bringing her arms into a curl.
She faced away from me when she did it, giving me a perfect view. Her shorts were so thin, her skin so supple, that it was more perfectly designed to turn me on than a porno. And I’d watched plenty of porn. The girl was set on giving me a heart attack today.
She kept doing it for the longest time, sending me a look over her shoulder as she straightened on the last rep. She smiled that sweet little smile at me.
“Well, aren’t you gonna ask me?” I had no idea what she was talking about, but my mind went very dirty with it.
Could you do that one more time, but pull your shorts down for this one, so I can f*ck your brains out? I was pretty positive that wasn’t what she meant.
Can I give you a ride home? Or maybe a hard ride on my cock? Nope, those two were out, too.
Or how about, Want to grab a coffee after this? That one was better, but I held my tongue.
“Excuse me?” I asked instead. The safest bet of all.
“My name. I know yours now. Don’t you want to know mine?”
I smiled politely, sincerely hoping that my raging hard-on wasn’t too obvious. I was wearing athletic pants and a long sweatshirt, so I was probably safe.
“Yes, of course. Nice to meet you…”
“Iris.”
My brows shot up. You didn’t see many girls her age named Iris. “Iris?” Her eyes twinkled at me. She gave very good eye contact. Intense, but good. “Don’t you like it?”
“Y-yes,” I stammered out. “It’s a beautiful name.”
“It’s always easy to pick out flowers for me. My favorite flower is the same as my name.”
“I’ll make a note of it.” What the f*ck did you say that for? I asked myself. Of course, I wouldn’t be getting her flowers. Totally inappropriate.
She looked pleased as punch. “You do that.”
She bent down, her back arched like a pinup girl, and picked up her borrowed towel. She moved closer, dabbing at her cleavage with it.
I swallowed hard, my cock throbbing in time to my accelerated heart rate.
“Upper body today, huh?” she asked.
I was watching her perky tits as she said it, so I blinked like an idiot. Her nipples were hard. I could see them through that flimsy as hell bra. “Hmm?” The towel moved down to her stomach. She didn’t look to be sweating much, but she patted herself down like she was.
I was in a full on sweat. I designed it that way. It made for a better workout, but just then I wanted to strip down.
Strip down and pin a naked Iris to the floor.
“You’re working your upper body today. You alternate, right?”
“Oh yeah.”
“It’s an intense workout you’ve got going. You training for something in particular?”
I shook my head. “Just trying to stay fit. What about you? You clock in three hours, too, right?”
She shrugged. “That’s a new thing, though I do enjoy a good workout. Just trying to keep things nice and tight.” That made my brain short-circuit.
“Things are looking very tight.” A perfect fit for my cock, my perverted mind added.
She came a little closer, almost into my personal space. “Thank you. That’s a big compliment, coming from a gym regular like you.”
I couldn’t take anymore. I turned, put the weights back on the bar, and went into a round of grueling pushups.
When I rose again, she was a few feet away doing French press reps, her chest thrust forward.
I turned quickly away, and tried not to so much as glance at her.
She kept her distance until I was on the last quarter hour of my routine, making my rounds on the machines.
“I bet you have some super special after workout drink you down after these sessions,”
she
told
me
as
she
approached my machine, her tone playful.
She got right up in my personal space, her breasts just inches from my face.
I looked up at her eyes, mine almost pleading. She had to quit teasing me, whether or not she knew that’s what she was doing.
I grunted.
“Admit it. You do, don’t you?” My mouth twisted wryly. She even had a good personality. She was a sweet little thing. She didn’t need to be. She could have gotten by on sheer good looks alone. “I have a little something I make.”
“It’s a drink, isn’t it? I’d bet good cash you make it with a Vitamix, and it has kale in it.”
I coughed out a laugh. “You aren’t wrong. I’m pretty predictable, huh?” She winked at me. F*cking winked. It was adorable, and I needed to get away from her. “You’re a mystery to me. I’m just throwing out guesses, trying to figure you out.”
“Now why would you do that? I have to tell you, I’m about as boring as they come.”
She shook her head, her eyes soft.
“Not at all. You seem fascinating to me, Dair.”
I wasn’t sure why, but that seemed to be my breaking point.
I politely excused myself and hit the showers. I was the only one in there, and I did give half a thought to rubbing a quick one off, but I refrained. I’d be home soon enough.
I emerged from the showers, clad in a fresh white T-shirt and black athletic shorts, to find Iris still hanging near the weights, still in her workout gear, dabbing at her glistening breasts with my towel.
Well, I guess she’ll be keeping that, I thought, giving it one last longing look before I turned on my heel and headed out.
I nearly let the door swing shut on her before I realized that she’d followed me, still in her workout gear, duffle bag in tow. I held the door wide for her, a little worried at her beaming smile.
“You shower at home?” I asked, then wanted to take it back. I did not need a visual of her showering.
“Yeah, usually. Here.” She draped the used towel over my shoulder.
My mind went really filthy with the things I’d be doing with it later.
“Thanks for that. You just headed home now?”
I nodded, looking over at the parking lot, back at the gym, anywhere but at the too young girl that was too much trouble for my peace of mind.
“Have a good one,” I murmured, and walked away.
“Wait,” she called out from behind me when I was halfway through the parking lot.
I stopped. She was just a few feet behind. Either she was following me, or she was walking somewhere. My pearl white model S Tesla was the only car parked this far back.
I turned to her, and she was smiling at me, of course.
“Do you mind giving me a ride?” I took a few deep, steadying breaths, wondering what to do.
Of course, I needed to give her a ride.
If the poor girl needed to walk somewhere, she could hardly do it dressed like that. She’d be abducted, for sure.
I wasn’t positive that I wouldn’t abduct her myself.
“Sure, honey. Where you need to go?” She pointed at my car, her eyes widening. “Is that your ride? It’s brilliant.
Wow.
A Tesla.
Just
beautiful.”
I smiled, impressed that she knew what it was and waved her on.
I loved my car, and I got a real kick out of her excited reaction to it. She was good at making me smile.
“I’ve never been in one of these before.”
“I just got this one about eight months ago.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes. I’m happy with it.”
“Whoa. You got the seven seater?
You have any kids?”
I laughed. “No. I have no excuse, other than that the salesman was very good at selling me features.”
We were inside and belted before I looked at her again. I could smell her in the small space. She smelled so good that it was playing havoc with my peace of mind. Like vanilla, maybe a touch of lemon, and some hint of what could only be her hot little body after a good workout.
I was shamefully happy that she hadn’t showered after the workout. I had a very clear visual of me licking every bit of that salty sweet sweat off her, and since that wouldn’t be happening, I at least had a smell to obsess over in place of that.
She reclined her seat until she was lying down flat. Her mouthwatering breasts pointed straight up in that position. “That is so cool. What is that called? The glass ceiling?”
“An all glass panoramic roof. Like I said, the salesman was very good at selling me features, even ones I didn’t need.”
I started the car, waiting for her to tell me where to go. When we just sat there for a few minutes, I asked, “So, where can I drop you?”
She brought her seat back up. “Aren’t you going to invite me back to your place? I want to see your house. And I’d like to try whatever concoction you make yourself drink after your workout.” I smiled and shook my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Iris. You are much too young to be inviting yourself to some man’s house. Especially an old guy like me.”
“How old are you?” she asked, sounding only vaguely curious about that.
“Forty. Old. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four, Alasdair. Old enough for any damn thing.”
I gave her a gimlet-eyed look, sure she was messing with me. “I don’t believe you. Prove it. Show me your ID.” She giggled like I’d just said the funniest thing, but she did bend forward to fish around in her bag, retrieving a small pink wallet. “What? You think I’m jailbait?”
“Something like that.”
She handed me a Nevada driver’s license. I studied it, did some quick math, then studied it some more. It was real, as far as I could tell, and it did place her at twenty-four. I could hardly believe it.
“I’m still way too old for you.”
“Your cock doesn’t agree.” Her tone was so innocent that it took me a moment to process what she’d said.
I flushed bright red. “My cock doesn’t know what’s good for it.”
“But I do.” Her voice was whisper soft and breathy.
I put the car in reverse. “You sure about this?”
Mr. Beautiful will be a male POV
continuation of the UITA series. The bulk of the novel will take place after the events in Grounded. However, there will also be many, many bonus male POV scenes from the first three books.
A TEASER FROM MR. BEAUTIFUL
COMING 2014
WARNING:
THIS
TEASER
CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE UP
IN THE AIR SERIES
JAMES
I couldn’t sleep after the shooting.
Bianca slept like a baby, like she never had before, like every worry she’d ever had had disappeared with the death of her father.
But not me. I was more restless than ever. A miracle had saved her, not me, and I felt helpless because of it.
It was not a feeling that fit me well.
In fact, it made my skin crawl in discomfort. In anger.
It had been months since the attack.
She and Stephan were healed physically, and it seemed emotionally, but I felt the wounds as though they were fresh. What had almost happened haunted me. I was a man that needed control, and I’d been shown, in the starkest way possible, that I had none.
I sat scant feet away from our bed, watching Bianca sleep. She was nude, with not so much as a sheet covering her. I’d seen to that. I watched her lithe form shift on the bed, one long leg hitching up to give me a glimpse of the pink between her legs.
I felt like a f*cking stalker.
In fact, I was one, watching her for hours on end, night after night.
I tensed when I realized she’d roused.
It disturbed her that I couldn’t sleep, when she deserved peace more than anyone.
She sat up, and I watched her heavy breasts swaying with the movement.
“James.” Her voice was the softest utterance.
“Love,” I answered, feeling the dark mood that had overtaken me lift in an instant. Just having her eyes on me could do that.
She crawled across the bed toward me. She’d always had an uncanny ability to do exactly the thing that would drive me the most wild, and she’d only gotten better at that over time. She didn’t hide her body from me as she moved. In fact, she posed for me, even the exposure of her body an act of submission.
As though reading my
thoughts, as though even those were a command, she paused on the edge of the bed, parting her legs to let me look my fill before she rose, approaching my chair.
I stood to meet her, my body drawn tight, my cock throbbing as though I hadn’t come, buried inside of her, just hours before.
I was a statue as she leaned up to my ear, my brows drawing together in a question. Her lips touched my ear as she spoke.
“Hurt me,” she whispered raggedly.
My eyes shut tight, my jaw went slack, and a shudder wracked my entire body.
I’d avoided all of the rough stuff since she’d been injured, but God had I missed it.
“We don’t have to, Bianca. It’s not necess-”
She gripped my hair, pulling my face down to her injured cheek. She dug her jaw into me so hard that I knew it must have been hurting her badly. It was healed now, but I knew it was still sore.
“I need it,” she rasped into my ear.
“I’ll never stop needing it. Please.” I pulled back, and my hands trembled as I cupped her face in my hands, my eyes searching hers desperately for what I wanted to see. Need. Yes. She needed this as much as I did. Perhaps more so.
“Get on the bed,” I told her thickly.