Always (Spiral of Bliss #5) (39 page)

My phone buzzes with a text from Bella informing me she has to be at the mall in half an hour. As we sometimes do, Dean and I obey our daughter’s summons and return to the Butterfly House.

Fitzy Darcy, seventy pounds of happy, tail-wagging dog, bounds up to meet us. Bella follows with a pleading look on her face.

“Can I please get a ride home from Cara?” she asks. “It’s just so embarrassing when I’m the only one whose
Dad
picks her up from the movies.”

“I could wear a disguise,” Dean suggests, scratching Fitzy behind the ears. “Fake glasses and a mustache.”

Not dignifying that with a response, Bella turns to me. “Please, Mom?”

Dean and I exchange glances and come to an agreement. We’ve known Cara and her family since she and Nicholas were in fourth grade together, and she’s a responsible, trustworthy girl.

“All right,” I agree. “But
only
if Cara is driving.”

“And text us when you’re leaving so we know when to expect you home,” Dean adds.

“I will, I promise.” Bella comes over to hug me. “Thank you so much.”

“Have fun.” I squeeze my daughter tightly and send up my usual silent prayer for the universe to keep her safe. “And be careful.”

She hurries out to the car. Dean picks up his keys and glances at his watch.

“Guess I’ll stop by Home Depot after dropping her off,” he says. “I need a new lawnmower battery.”

“Nicholas is working late, then going to a bonfire,” I tell him, tapping my fingers on the counter.

“Okay. I’ll also get some new brackets for the shelving in the—” Dean stops and looks at me with interest. “Both kids are going out tonight?”

I nod slowly. “I was thinking we should use the time to clean out the basement storage.”

“Ah, great idea.” Dean backs toward the door, his gaze on me. “Why don’t you go ahead and get started down there? I’ll be back with some hardware you might need.”

“Sounds good.”

We exchange goofy smiles before Dean turns and heads out the front door.

Calculating I have forty minutes at most, I spring into action. I toss a blue-and-white cloth over the table in the garden, turn on the miniature globe lights strung through the trees, and set the table with white china plates, wineglasses, and a votive candle. I run upstairs to change into a flowing, white cotton sundress, doing a light-speed washing up and makeup reapplication.

By the time Dean’s car comes back up the drive, I’m in the kitchen heating the pasta dish I’d made last night. I dim the lights, set a bottle of wine on the central island, fluff out my hair, and lean my hips on the counter in what I hope is a casually sexy pose.

Dean comes into the kitchen and stops, his eyes warming with appreciation as he looks at me, sliding his gaze over my body as if he’s already touching me. My skin tingles.

I expect him to cross the room and haul me into his arms—just the thought leaves me breathless—but instead he continues watching me in that way of his, a look of both tender warmth and awe, as if even after all these years he still can’t believe the girl from Jitter Beans is his wife.

I know, because I often look at him the same way.

“Give me a kiss, beauty,” Dean says.

With a smile, I close the distance between us. Our lips meet in a kiss as warm and good as hot cocoa on a snowy night, ear massages, the scent of cinnamon, honey melting over fresh-baked bread.

When we slowly part, Dean tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear.

“There’s a medieval doctrine of philosophy called illuminationism,” he tells me.

I lift an eyebrow. “Is there?”

“The philosophy states that humans need divine grace to aid their thoughts,” he continues. “Saint Augustine was an early proponent of the idea. He said a man couldn’t have full knowledge of the truth without heavenly intervention. The philosophy is also related to the idea of a divine light that banishes darkness and illuminates everything good and true.”

I reach up to smooth his disheveled hair away from his forehead, gazing into his chocolate-brown eyes that will forever hold the key to unlocking my soul.

“And do you possess this divine illumination?” I ask.

“Of course.” He lowers his head to brush his lips across mine. “Her name is Liv West.”

My heart goes into a slow, curving free-fall, like a feather knowing it will come to rest right in the palm of this man’s hand.

“You are my eternal grace.” Dean brushes his lips across mine. “My divine light, the illumination of everything good and true.”

He slides his hand up my midriff to my breast. “And you are without question my most heavenly body.”

“Well,” I murmur, spreading my hand over his chest, “you’re definitely getting lucky tonight, professor.”

“I’m already lucky. Luckier than I could ever have imagined.”

I smile, curling my fingers into his T-shirt as our lips meet in another kiss. He moves his hands to the sides of my neck, tilting my head to just the right angle before delving his fingers into my hair. I sink against him, my body curving along his with the ease of a flower stem bending to the wind.

The world slips away, distilling into the familiar touch of our lips together, the irrepressible desire that floods between us. Only when the timer on the stove dings do I pull away from him, pressing a series of kisses over his jaw.

Twilight shines through the windows, dusky and golden, and birdsong rustles on the breeze. I dish up plates of pasta, Dean pours the wine, and we sit at the garden table to eat under the glowing lights.

In the woods beyond, The Castle Two sits nestled in the trees, still beloved after all these years and kept in good condition for—maybe one day—our future grandchildren.

Because both Bella and Nicholas have keys to the house and could change plans any second and come home, Dean and I go upstairs to the bedroom after dinner. Dean locks the door behind us, and we step into each other’s arms, a move as natural as a heartbeat. I still experience a sense of relief when Dean’s arms close around me, as if we’re locking together, as if the earth is settling into place, as if the planets and stars are aligning.

Of course they are.

A slow, languid heat rises between us. Dean twists his fingers into the straps of my sundress, his touch warm against my bare skin. He trails his lips from my mouth across my cheek and down my neck to my shoulder.

I shiver, loving the scrape of his stubble, the tickle of his thick hair against my bare skin. Heat radiates from him, as if he’s absorbed the summer sun. I pull him toward the bed, wanting his strong body on top of me so I can arch against him like a cat stretching in the sunlight.

I love this, cherish it like breathing, the return to a private island where my husband and I shed the roles of mom, dad, professor, mentor, volunteer, lecturer, café owner, cook, advisor, board member, consultant… the place where we simply return to the beginning of what we became.

Wrapped in Dean’s arms, intoxicated by his kisses, I’m just Liv again, the starry-eyed girl who melts at his touch, and he’s the captivating man who loves me with an adoration that is more powerful and eternal than time itself.

He undresses me slowly, working the buttons lining the front of my dress, his fingertips skimming across my bared skin. Delicious quivers rain through me. I shift to take off my bra as he slides my panties over my hips and lowers his head to press gentle kisses over my torso, up to my breasts, across my neck.

He moves away only long enough to shed his clothes. Currents of heat pool in my belly as I gaze at his gorgeous body that I love so much—the smooth planes of his shoulders, his muscular chest, the thick ridge of his cock that makes me clench my thighs with hot anticipation.

Dean lowers himself on top of me, bracing his hands on either side of my head as I part my legs to let him inside. Our lips lock together in unison with our bodies, the push-and-pull movement that has the rhythm of the tides. I wrap my legs around his thighs, loving the heavy, deep thrust of his cock as he drives our need higher and higher. There’s no end to it, this pleasure that streams over us like water.

I fall into the cascade, the world softening at the edges until there is only the delicious friction of our bodies, the press of his mouth, the feel of his hard chest against my breasts.

Time coalesces, over twenty years falling away, and we’re in Dean’s former university apartment, indulging in each other for hours on a lazy Saturday afternoon. I’m twenty-four again, happy, excited, and eager to let this beautiful man show me how deliciously raw and uninhibited we can be together, how completely we can love each other.

And oh, how we have loved across the years—often with the same hot, passionate fervor of our early days, but also with a rich, gentle elegance that over two decades together have given us, like a pearl slowly polished by time.

My husband and I know and cherish everything—the flaring burn of lust that drenches us both in need; the easy, leisurely fucking like indulging in a decadent dessert; the emotional reconnection after a fight, the flirtatious teasing that leads to the sudden urgency of wanting each other
right now
, the sizzling excitement of dirty talk, the comforting predictability of turning to each other at the same time; the rough edginess of total control (his) and complete surrender (mine), the thrill of quick, secret interludes, and all the other unique, Liv-and-Dean nuances that paint our love with such intense, vivid colors.

I thread my fingers through Dean’s thick hair as he lowers his head to press his lips across my throat, down to my breasts. His hands glide over me with smooth assurance, reminding me that in all of history, he—and only he—has ever possessed the instinct and knowledge to touch me in all the right ways. He is the man who has perfected the incomparable art of making love to me, of
loving
me.

He thrusts into me again and again, his scruff tickling my skin, his muscles flexing beneath my hands. As the spool of bliss winds tighter, Dean stills, lifting himself over me and bringing his mouth down on mine the instant I come with a cry. Sensations tear through me, hot and intense, as I clench tight around him. He groans, burying his face against my neck as he surges deep inside me and surrenders to his own release.

We fall against the pillows together, sweaty and breathing hard. Dean wraps his arm around me and pulls me into the space against his side where I will always fit so perfectly.

As we catch our breath, Dean’s fingers linger on my left breast, absently tracing the decade-old surgery scar and radiation burns that are now concealed by a tattoo. An intricate design of flowers and vines surrounds an orange-and-black monarch butterfly, delicate wings arched and poised to take flight. Nestled among the vines is an interwoven L and D.

Dean has a smaller, matching version of the tattoo on the inside of his wrist, right where his pulse beats. We’d gotten the tattoos the fifth year I was declared free of cancer, and all tests and scans since then have come back clear. Though we never need reminding, the tattoos are small evidence of big things.

Dean and I have walked through fire together and kissed in the moonlight, but one strong, glittering thread binds us more powerfully than anything else. Throughout this life of ours, we know we will always be
us
, one heart beating beneath all that we do and all that we are.

A professor who showed a damsel in distress what it means to love and be loved. A student who learned how to trust that man alone with her body and her soul. A gentleman who waited for her. A barista who saved the freshest cookies for a certain handsome customer. A dorky medievalist who championed obscure foreign films. A girl who discovered she already had all she needed to become a woman. A man who protected her with every beat of his fiercely steadfast heart.

Everything Dean and I were once upon a time, we are at this moment. We’ll forever be a white knight and his beauty who battled monsters and won. We’ll always be a husband and wife who never gave up, who still believe in library call numbers, rainy Saturdays, houseplants, string figures, coffee houses, and lists of Important Things.

We’ll always be Liv and Dean, who knew at first glance that we would do more than simply live a life together.

We knew we would create a life together, one in which promises are kept, blessings are counted, and our marriage is the blissful haven to which we always return. We knew we would laugh, hold hands, cry, learn, argue, grow, cherish, and kiss an awful lot.

And so we’ve done all those things and more. As the years pass, the medieval history professor and the girl from Jitter Beans will continue, with wild passion and tenderness, to love so very happily ever after.

ACKNOWLDGEMENTS

KIMBERLY KIMBALL, AKA AUTHOR TORI MADISON,
I could not be more grateful for your help with Liv and Dean’s final epic battle. Thank you so much for taking the time, sharing your experiences, and making sure I got it right. You are both a real-life warrior and a hero, and I am getting all my best hugs ready for you.

Victoria Colotta of VMC Art & Design, as
always
, thank you for your talent, patience, and for sticking with me as we saw Liv and Dean through to their happy ending. I’ll say it again because it’s true—I couldn’t have done it without you.

Karen Dale Harris, thank you so much for your incredibly perceptive suggestions that helped me do justice to all the characters in Mirror Lake, and for the insightful brainstorming that changed the shape of the story.

Marion Archer, I’m so grateful for your honesty and thoughtfulness (and, selfishly, I’m really glad that my writing can make you cry). Thank you so much for your time, care, and your lust for Archer West.

Jessa Slade, your insights continue to leave me in awe, as does your knowledge of all things nerdy and your appreciation for the times when I have to be a cruel author. Much continued gratitude to both you and your sharp brain.

Cathy Yardley, you were the first one ever to read Liv and Dean’s story, and I’m eternally thankful for your support and advice, which has improved my writing in countless ways. Thank you for encouraging me to delve deeper and work harder to bring Liv and Dean to life.

Thank you, Tara Gonzalez of InkSlinger PR, for your dauntless efforts to get the Spiral of Bliss books into the hands of as many readers as possible.

MJ Fryer, Debbie Kagan, Yesi Cavazos, Maria D., and Baba, thank you so much for being the first line of defense, bolstering my courage, and helping me stay true to the story I wanted to tell. And thank you especially for your boundless love not only for Liv and Dean, but for the whole Mirror Lake crew. Your opinions mean the world to me.

Rachel Berens-VanHeest, thank you for your eagle-eyed copyediting. Thank you to Aura Dyer, for “beau-tea,” which could not be more perfect, and to Gel of Tempting Illustrations for visualizing my words so beautifully.

A huge thank you to all the amazing bloggers who love Liv and Dean, especially those who have been with me and the Wests from the very beginning. I’m so thankful for your continued support, which has strengthened me in many ways.

Special thanks to the following lovelies for your unwavering support as Nina’s Ninjas and/or friends whose love for Liv and Dean kept me writing:

Jatana, Jaime, Rachel, Shermaine, Renee, Kelly, Gloria, Charleen, Angela, Shawndra, Jeanie, Alicia, Melanie, Jen, Milasy, Gitte and Jenny, Patty, Alexis, Vilma, Kitty, Aestas, Bridget, Jodie Rae, Christina, Vanessa, Sally, Nancy, Erica, Patti, Lena, Margie, Melissa, Pam, Karen, Michelle, Bobbie Jo, Debbie, Clara, Jennifer, Angie and Jessica, Priya, Susan, Rosette, Kristy, Kelly, Ed
lyn, Paula, Leigh Ann, Clista, Katy, Nicole, Ashley, Lucie, Kelsey, Chantal, Marianne, Tammy and Kim, Laura, Amy, Robin, Bri, Nesia, Anie, Casey, Ing, Shannon, Tracy, Livia, Rosalind, Becca, Silvia, JJ, Kristin, Keisha, Pamela, Shamika, Stephanie, Katie, Marlene, Lisa, Chutimon, Kerri-Anne, Lorrie, Lucinda, Amie, LuAnne, Dena, Jenny, Nichole, Lindsee, Jacqui, Cindy, Donna, Sunny, Autumn, Bianca, Jasmine, Ayllen, Terri, Janet, Sal, Beth, Faye, Sandy, Sharon, Sheri, Mel, Andrea, Vicky, Jessy, Rosalia, Julie, Brittany, Taslima, Candy, Rizky, Tina, Alleskelle, Nishi, Marika, Kayla, Shelly, Karen, Myriam, Heather, Allie, Samantha, Taslima, Malene, Robin, Brandi, Tiffani, Maria, Ren, Murlene, Connie, Carol, Heidi, Tiffany, Kawsar, Kendra, Carrie, Pavlina, Cleida, Rae, and Eliza.

And thank you to all the readers who have stood by both me and the Wests on their journey to happily ever after. I loved writing the Spiral of Bliss books and am honored that so many of you have discovered a unique magic in Liv and Dean’s story.