Beyond the Consequences (Book 5 of the Consequences Series)

Taylor didn’t speak; instead she reached for his hand and led him through the archway toward the adjoining room with the large king-sized bed. Beyond the unblocked windows, the small lake glistened with the last rays of the evening sun. The earlier redness had bled from the sky, pooled behind the large trees and left lingering purple wisps floating above the horizon as dusk offered the dimmed illumination of only the moon and stars.

Phil didn’t need Taylor’s words to recognize her hunger. The appetite he witnessed wasn’t for food, but for connection. The path before her was more daunting than she wanted to admit. It would take strength and support. As their bodies became one and the world beyond the window darkened, Phil wanted to give her everything she needed. His desire wasn’t purely carnal, though that element’s presence was unquestioned. He wanted to be the one she could lean upon, to applaud her inner strength, and also to catch her if she fell. The woman below him wasn’t a damsel in distress. She was every bit as fierce as he, yet even he craved the knowledge of not being alone. Until Taylor, Phil had never known how badly he desired that connection.

Her beautiful eyes stared into his as her body clenched and her moans subsided. He loved how she didn’t close her eyes, but watched him constantly as they united. Perhaps that too was a sign of her strength. Never did it feel as if she surrendered herself to him. On the contrary, she gave, a gift that only he was blessed to receive.

Collapsing next to her, Phil pulled Taylor near. “Shall we get dressed and head up to the mansion for dinner?”

The sweet aroma of Taylor’s shampoo wafted through the air as she shook her head against his shoulder. “No, I meant what I said about cooking. I saw a grill outside, past the screened porch. Let’s drive to that little grocery.” She lifted her head and filled his hazel eyes with crystal blue. “I want to cook that dinner for you.”

“You don’t have—”

Her kiss stopped his words. “I know. I want to. Let me spend tonight thinking about other things, like salad, and steak, and maybe some wine.”

Flipping their world, Taylor’s hair fanned out on the pillow and her smile grew. “Well,” Phil replied, “if keeping your mind occupied is my main mission, I’ll do my best not to fail.”

Taylor’s back arched, confirming their connection. Unlike before, they were skin to skin. “You’ve already done a great job. But don’t get too comfortable. I think it could be a long night.”

Sighing contently, Phil replied, “You know me, always a workaholic. I strive for perfection.”

Finding himself lost in her aura, Phil realized what he’d just said—you know me—and the tips of his lips moved upward. Such a simple statement, truer than anything else he could utter, and more powerful in meaning.





The present moment is filled with joy and happiness. If you are attentive, you will see it.

—Thich Nhat Hanh




“HOW DO YOU like having two children?” Julia Simmons asked Claire, as they walked with their sons back to the screened porch from the nursery.

“Now that this little guy is sleeping through the night, I like it a lot more.”

Julia smiled. “Yes, Christopher started doing that around five months. At first, I’d wake up to make sure he was all right. Caleb had to convince me not to wake him.”

Claire laughed. “I know the feeling.”

“And Nate sure isn’t little,” Julia assessed. “Goodness, he’s grown.”

“Yes,” Claire replied as she juggled her son on her hip. Making her way to the sofa, wisps of her hair blew in the breeze of the ceiling fan as it circulated the warm summer air about the porch. As she sat, she heard squeals of delight coming from the backyard and pool. “He’s over doubled in size since he was born. The doctor said that he’s over the one hundredth percentile in height.”

“Well, look at Tony, Claire,” Courtney chimed in. “Of course Nate will be tall.”

“But look at Nichol,” Claire replied. “She’s not nearly as tall. I mean, they say to double your height at age two. By age three she was only thirty-two inches.”

Emily shrugged. “She’s petite, like her momma.”

Aleatha Romig's books