Forever Love: A Novella Collection, page 27
The bright throw she's got over her may have started out covering her entirely, but right now the top of it is resting just above her belly button, which means she's completely exposed on top. I've been standing here for a good two minutes now fucking transfixed by her unbelievably sexy tits—firm and perky with dusty rose-colored nipples that I’m dying to taste. Then there’s her beautiful as fuck face. Poets could write volumes about her lush lips, but I'm no scribe, so all I can say is that Angelina Jolie needs to be jealous of Leni's mouth. I've spent the last few days jerking off to it multiple times a day because of this girl. Hell, I've spent the two years since the family vacation we took the summer after her freshman year of college getting off thinking about her. I come the hardest when I imagine her lips stretched around my cock as I come into that hot little mouth. Jesus fuck I want that.
To get myself under control, I look away from her, then swallow back a groan when my gaze drops to the floor, and I see black silk stockings and a sexy black bra there. I'm so hard right now I can barely fucking think straight, and my dick is all but chanting her name. If I weren't wearing fitted boxer briefs under my black sweatpants, my cock would be tenting out like Pinocchio’s nose. The impulse to wake this sleeping beauty up with a kiss is almost impossibly strong.
Closing my eyes, I fist my hands and breathe deeply, nearly losing what little resistance I have as her delicate apricot and honey scent permeates my senses—the same smell that almost had me breaking down and fucking her on the kitchen floor just a few hours ago. I breathe through my mouth and start counting backward from one hundred. By the time I get to eighty-two, I'm in a better place. Cracking my eyes open just enough to be able to see, I quickly grab the blanket and position it over her so she's covered and then tuck it around her. Stepping back, I clear my throat and watch her for a reaction. Nothing. I shake my head in wonder at just how out she is and then reach out to nudge on her shoulder.
“Time to wake up, Little Bird.”
The little moan she lets out blows my control to smithereens, and it only gets worse when she licks her lips. I can't decide if the universe is trying to reward or torture me right now. She mumbles unintelligibly when I shake her shoulder again. When she cracks open her eyes and smiles dreamily, I forget to breathe for a second or two.
"Mmm, Colin," she says, her voice husky with sleep.
I damn near fall to the fucking floor. Yeah. This isn’t a reward. I’m officially being tortured.
"You have to get up, baby," I croak in a voice that sounds like I just spent fifteen hours in the desert without water. And fuck my life, I just called her baby out loud. I normally save that shit for when I imagine pumping into her tight little cunt. The thin cracks in my resistance are quickly becoming a fucking chasm.
She blinks a few times and yawns sweetly as she goes to sit up. My hand shoots out lightning fast and settles on her shoulder to keep her in place. As soon as I touch her, her eyes go wide. Ah. Now she’s awake.
“Pretty sure you’re naked under there,” I say before I take my hand away.
“I—what? How do you know?”
The expression of confusion on her face shouldn’t be sexy, but it is. I shrug as though I’m unaffected as I very fucking reluctantly take two steps back. “I don't know for sure, but your clothes are on the floor, so…” I trail off, letting the implication hang in the air.
“Oh,” she murmurs. “Oops.”
I swallow thickly as I look away, doing my best not to focus on how badly I want to fuck her through the mattress. "I came in to make sure you were okay," I explain. "I haven't seen you in three hours, and you weren't answering your cell or your bedroom door.”
She blushes and bites her lip, a visual I immediately file in my spank bank. "Wow," she says in a breathless sounding voice. "I passed out."
“It’s understandable since on a normal day you could sleep anywhere. Today was far more emotionally exhausting than normal. I fell asleep after my shower for about an hour.”
I don't mention that in addition to being emotionally wiped out I'd also been wholly spent after I jerked off and came twice in the shower in response to holding her in my arms earlier. The feel of those sweet little tits pressed against my chest was like a hit of pure lust. Thinking of the way she felt in my arms isn’t helping me calm down. I know that if I don't get the hell out of this room immediately, I'm going to need to take care of business again. It's a wonder my palms aren't callused and my dick isn't chafing at this point.
“I’m going to go heat up dinner for us so that we can eat something before we go to Benny’s to meet Lolo and Sam.”
“Ah,” she says with a smile. “Thank you for waking me. I’d have been really upset if I slept through SamLo time. I’ll be down in a few.”
I nod as I take another step back. “Any particular requests from the leftovers?”
She considers for a few seconds. “A piece of barbeque chicken, a cup of Spanish rice and some of the Caesar salad, dressing on the side.”
“No macaroni and cheese?”
Elena loves macaroni and cheese, and Lolo made the world’s best for the funeral luncheon.
“Can’t do it,” Elena says with a disappointed sounding sigh. “When we go to the bar with Lolo and Sam I’m going to treat myself to a drink or two. The calories add up. I can’t get off course going into this last season.”
I hate when she deprives herself of food that she loves. I don’t know why it bothers me since it’s not as though she starves herself—she’s got curves and she’s strong and sexy as fuck—but it does. It’s admirable that she’s so hardcore about maintaining an exact weight because of cheerleading, but sometimes I’d like to see her eat without worrying about it.
"I'm going to whip up our plates while you get ready for our SamLo time," I say as I turn and head for the door. After leaving, I close it behind me and let out a deep breath, silently giving thanks that I survived having a nearly naked Elena within touching distance. Lolo and Sam would tell me that my self-control is beyond stupid at this point, but I disagree. As much as I value their opinions, they're wrong about trying to push me toward Elena before she graduates.
Lolo (short for Lauren) and her wife Sam (short for Samantha) have been my best friends since further back than my memory even goes, which is to say we were hanging out in our cribs together. We grew up in the same neighborhood, so we've always been a trio. For years people would joke that I'd end up with one or the other, but I've known since at least ninth grade that they were going to wind up together—even during the hard times when they were both trying to pretend they weren’t gay. As my longest and dearest friends, there aren't any secrets between us. Not because we haven't each tried to be secretive about a thing or two, but because we see through each other. This means they are well aware of my Elena obsession. I'd been fairly certain they'd tell me I was insane once they figured it out, but that didn't happen. Instead, they’re both supportive of it. Whether because they both adore her or because they’re sappy-ass romantics at heart, I don’t know.
Elena is a one-in-a-million-girl, the kind people search for and never find. She’s gorgeous, compassionate, kind, smart and she makes me laugh like no one else. The future I want has her in it—at the very center of it—and there’s nothing I won’t do to make that happen. The plan—and I'm trying to stick to it—is to wait until Elena graduates college before I make my play for her. I've been damn firm about that until this afternoon in the kitchen when I almost buckled. Without a doubt, I know that the second we see Lolo and Sam at the bar their Colin-radar is going to ping like crazy. I already know I’ll be forced to explain just how close I came to caving in today before the end of the night.
College was where I sowed my wild oats, and I know it was a fundamental transition for me between being eighteen and being a fully functional adult. Trying to tie Leni down would've meant depriving her of the experience, and as much as it has killed me, I believe she needed that. I also didn't think getting into what would primarily be a long-distance relationship with her would've been right. I'd have burned with jealousy sitting in my apartment one state over while she spent her days with frat boys. No, the right thing to do is to let her enjoy all of that without having to worry about a thirty-something boyfriend.
I’ve come this far—it won’t be much longer now. Only one more school year separates me from making my play for her. The way I feel about her isn’t small or temporary—if she’ll have me I mean to make this permanent. Less than a year now, I remind myself. As I head down the stairs to the kitchen I chant I think I can; I think I can in my head.
For the first time in the two years since I realized how deeply I feel for her, I’m not sure I believe that chant anymore. My once iron will is cracking by the hour.
5
Elena-Now
My stomach is in knots as I pull down the drive at Nanny and Pop’s house and park my car next to Colin’s black Jeep Grand Cherokee Trailhawk. This is the first time I’ve been to the house since the day things blew up and I left in a huff, which also means it’s the first time I’ve been here since the days following the funeral. The emotion of knowing that Nanny and Pop won’t be inside is colliding with the anxiety of having to see Colin again and both are making me feel less prepared to deal with this.
Gathering up my courage, I turn off my car, get out and inhale. The scent of Nanny’s heirloom roses soothes my soul enough that I’m able to feel a bit calmer. I can do this. Hell, I have to do this because it isn’t like I can avoid him forever. We own a home together, after all.
* * *
Night After The Funeral
“Yummy,” I groan as I set the sugared lemon I sucked after taking a lemon drop shot down on a bar napkin.
“Good stuff, right?”
I grin and give Lolo the thumbs up. “Delicious,” I answer. “In fact, I might even have another.”
“You should slow your roll so you don’t wind up praying to the porcelain god later.”
Lolo, Sam, and I all burst out laughing at the same moment.
“In the last two hours I’ve nursed one beer and now I’ve taken one shot. I’m not anywhere near drunken puke status,” I assure him.
“Funny that you haven’t had a peep to say about the two beers I’ve had or the three fingers of Glenorangie in my glass right now,” Sam points out.
Colin looks abashed for a fraction of a second before he grins and makes a dismissive gesture. “I’m fairly certain that Irish whiskey runs through your veins,” he jokes. “We all know you could drink at least half this bar under the table without breaking a sweat.”
Sam raises her glass in a mock toast. “Factual,” she concedes before taking a sip. “Doesn’t change the fact that a beer and a shot aren’t going to put your Little Bird down, though.”
Colin coined the nickname Little Bird for me during the first year I lived on the Findlay property. He’d started calling me that because I used to swing on the elaborate wooden swing set the Findlays had installed in the yard for me for hours on end. He used to joke that I spent more time in the air than on the ground—something that became even funnier when I took up cheerleading and became a fly girl.
Sam and Colin have some kind of weird stare-off for a few seconds before he inclines his head at her in concession.
It’s not like he can really deny it since it’s very noticeable that Colin is protective of me—more so in the last few years than ever. For some reason he seems to worry more now than he did at any point in time before.
“Who’s up for a game of pool?” he asks.
I’m up and off my bar stool in a blink. “Me! I’m breaking.”
The three of them laugh in unison. “Of course you are!” Lolo snorts. “We don’t call you the ball breaker for nothing.”
I shrug as we begin walking back to the game room that holds four pool tables, six pinball machines and three dartboards. On the weekend, the bar is jam-packed but since it’s a weeknight we’re able to go right to an empty table.
We pair off as we always do—Team SamLo and Team ColEna. We’re evenly matched and we all play the same way because Pop is the one who taught us how right at his prized mahogany pool table in the basement.
The way we do it is that after the first round the top two players on either team play each other. Colin and I win the first round but since he sank more balls, he’s facing off against Sam. After taking a seat at one of the pub tables against the wall, Lolo and I place an order with the waitress for two more lemon drop shots. After the waitress goes to the bar to put in our order, Lolo turns her attention to me.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?”
I scrunch up my nose in confusion. “What’s tomorrow?”
“Will reading,” she reminds me.
I nod. “Oh, yeah. I was more worried about getting through today. Honestly, I was surprised when Sam’s dad said I was included in it at all.”
She frowns as she traces her index finger in an infinity pattern on the tabletop. “It’s always hard, even when you know what to expect. After my father died and everything was said and done, the thing that hit me the hardest was the will reading. It made it final for me—more than the funeral, even. I’m not sure why.”
“I can see that,” I say as the waitress slides our two shots onto the table. After paying her, we quickly clink shot glasses before downing the deliciously cold shot and sucking on the sugar-covered lemon wedges to finish the drink off. For the next few minutes, we sit and cheer on Colin and Sam as they blow through their lightning round of pool. When it’s all over, Sam is the victor. They high-five before they start going about the re-setting of the table. Once they hang the sticks back in place on the wall, they stand huddled together to talk instead of coming directly to the pub table Lolo and I are at. As the minutes pass without them coming back, I turn to Lolo for a read on the situation. “It looks like they’re discussing world peace.”
She snorts and watches them for about two seconds before she shrugs. “They’re wrapping it up now,” she declares.
I see no signs that they’re anywhere near finished but damn if she isn’t right since they’re headed back this way. The three of them read each other so well it’s a little like dealing with triplets who have groupthink.
Lolo and I stand from our seats and grab our purses as they walk our way. Although Colin and I have nothing on our agendas, Sam and Lolo both need to work in the morning and it’s after midnight now. Even though I took a three-hour nap, I feel exhausted. The last lemon drop shot has me feeling languid, so I’m mostly quiet as we walk to the parking lot. After exchanging hugs with the girls, Colin and I settle into his car. I love being in the car alone with Colin, especially at night when it’s like being in a little cocoon. His Dave Matthews Band playlist is on and right now “Satellite” is playing through the speakers. I yawn as I lean back against the headrest.
“Sometimes I wonder if you’d be able to sleep around the clock if no one woke you up,” he says.
“Maybe,” I chuckle as my eyes drift shut.
The sound of his car door closing wakes me up a few minutes later. I have just enough time to take my seatbelt off before Colin opens the door for me. “Thought I might have to carry you in,” he says.
His husky voice causes an immediate surge of desire to race through my body. Anxious to hide my stiffening nipples I lean forward and grab my purse. Since my bra isn’t padded and I’m wearing a fitted off-the-shoulder emperor blue top, I know damn well that they’re visible. I clutch my purse to my chest as I step out of his car. The second I put my foot down, I realize my error. Because I didn’t look down, I didn’t notice where Colin’s feet were. The hands I’m clutching my purse with immediately go wide as my foot goes out from under me and I try to balance myself as I start to fall. Colin grabs me and keeps me from going down entirely, but I can already feel my ankle swelling.
My purse is now down on the asphalt but I couldn’t care less because my ankle is throbbing. I know this feeling well since I’ve sprained my ankles cheerleading half a dozen times over the years. The good news is that I’ve got a few ankle braces upstairs in my room here, so at least there’s that. Clutching at Colin’s shirt, I look up at him.
“I dropped my purse and I think I sprained my ankle. I’ll need to lean on you to make it into the house.”
“The hell you will,” he growls.
Before I can ask what the heck that means, he’s swinging me up into his arms. I startle when he tilts me back and says, “Grab the purse, Little Bird.”
Once I reach out my free arm and grab my purse, he closes the car door with his foot and strides toward the side door. This is the one door that Nanny and Pop allowed him to install an electronic door lock. They’d both chosen to eschew the keypad in favor of a traditional key but Colin and I both favor entering the code. When we get to the door, I quickly press the buttons to unlock it. Inside the house, he takes me directly to the living room before setting me down on the couch.
“First let’s get your shoes. Then you can elevate it and I’ll go make an ice pack,” he says as he helps me into a comfortable position. My shoes are easy to remove since I’m wearing a simple pair of slip on leather sandals. Tossing the shoes to the side, Colin crouches down to check out my foot. I hold in a shiver when his hand wraps around my lower leg just above my ankle. Lifting up gently, he looks at the ankle. I’ve got on a pair of black jean shorts and the warmth of his palm against my skin feels electric.
