Black Swan Affair (19 page)

“Is breakfast over?” I whisper to Kael, noting it’s almost 10:00 a.m. already.

“Got it covered, Swan,” he whispers back.

“Ah, the newlyweds.” Sheila beams when we walk into the luxurious dining room. The dark damask walls are beautiful, along with the ornate maple ten-person dining room table, which only holds two place settings.

“I hope we didn’t cause too much trouble for you by being late,” I apologize as I take a seat.

“Oh,
pffft
. No trouble at all dear. I may be old, but I remember what it’s like to be a newlywed.” She winks conspiratorially before heading through a swinging door, presumably into the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me we had to be down here at a certain time?” I chastise Kael, knowing very well breakfast must have been served quite a while ago.

He leans over, taking my chin between his finger and thumb. “Because we don’t. I want this weekend to be fun and relaxing and not on anyone’s timetable but our own. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say, a bit breathless. He places his lips chastely to mine right as Sheila returns holding a tray stuffed with quiche, breakfast sausage, fried potatoes, fruit, a stack of powdered-sugar-dusted French toast a mile high, and the cinnamon rolls Kael was going on about earlier.

“This looks incredible. Thank you, Sheila,” Kael tells our hostess.

“My pleasure. And I took care of everything for you just as you asked.” With a wink, she wanders back into the kitchen. Wordlessly, Kael takes my plate and starts filling it with bits of everything. He picks the pineapple chunks from the fruit bowl because he knows I don’t like them.

I just watch him, waiting. When he hands me my plate and picks up his own without offering an explanation, I laugh. “Free-balling, huh?”

He eyes me, his mouth and brows quirking up simultaneously. “Is commando close enough?”

The corners of my mouth stretch into a giant grin. “No woman in her right mind would complain about her man going commando.”

“Good.” He winks playfully then sits with such grace I sigh.

We eat in silence for a few minutes before something hits me. I should keep my mouth shut. I tell my vocal cords not to press any air through. It doesn’t work. I vomit the question I’ve been wanting the answer to for almost a month now. “So, how’s everything going with that National Guard contract?” I ask, trying for nonchalant. I pass. I think.

Kael eyes me shrewdly.

Nope.

Missed the boat there.

“Why do you ask? You never ask me about work.”

Busted.

“No reason. I guess just coming here made me think of it is all.” Quick thinking, Mavs. Way to go.

He holds my gaze steady and answers me straight-faced, no inflection. Nothing to make me think he’d be lying. “It’s delayed.” But there’s something in the
way
he says his spiel—as if it’s been smoothly practiced—that has my red flags flapping in the wind.

“What happened?” I press, wanting to see what he’ll say.

His shoulder rises and falls at the same time his mouth turns down. “You know the government,” is his only reply. He goes back to his breakfast, indicating our conversation is over.

I don’t want it to be. I want to ask more questions. Ferret out what he’s hiding because now I’m convinced it’s something. Under any normal circumstances, I would end it with that. Federal contracts are the worst. They’re competitive and drawn-out and we lose far more than we win. We both know this.

But I can’t ignore that feeling in my gut. The one that screams he’s keeping something from me. Something major. Opening my mouth to push the issue, a single word spills out instead when Kael starts grinning into his plate. “What?”

“What, what?” he asks, eyeing me from underneath those ridiculously long lashes I envy more with each year.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

He sets his fork down, lavishing all of his attention on me. “Like what, Swan?”

His grin is an epidemic infecting the air. With a single breath, I catch it, too. “Like that.” I wave two fingers at him. When he quirks one brow, I add, “Like…like you just swallowed sunbeams.” He looks…jubilant, almost.

“I know you like the palm of my hand.”

I lean back and cross my arms. A little grumpily. “Spend a lot of time in the palm of your hand, do you?” I throw back.
Very
grumpily.

He barks a laugh, followed by a headshake. “Oh yeah. My hand knows every single ridge and vein in my cock very, very well. We became almost inseparable when I was milking myself to fantasies of you all these years.”

My mouth falls open. I sputter when I hear Sheila’s sharp “oh my” from behind me. Kael isn’t fazed in the least. He keeps that Cheshire grin planted firmly on his lips. The sudden sound of the swinging door brushing the doorframe back and forth indicates Sheila’s quick exit as our conversation has taken a deliciously salacious turn.

“You did that on purpose,” I chastise. “You saw her there.” He has a direct line of sight to that kitchen.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kael pushes his chair back and comes to pull mine out. He grabs my hands and helps me stand, enfolding me into his embrace. “Now, I want to take my wife out and have every man we meet envy me.”

I grin ridiculously, everything else forgotten.

He grabs my coat, which I’d hung on the back of the chair and slips it on. He zips me up. Reaching into my pocket, he removes my fluffy white gloves and slides them on my hands, one of by one. His tender care of me is sweet and endearing. After he’s done, he efficiently eases into his own winter gear.

Cupping my cheeks with his now leather-clad hands, he presses a kiss to my lips. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

It’s not until we’re striding out the front door, hand in hand into the cold winter day, that I realize he stealthily redirected our entire conversation.

W
e spend
the morning walking around Saint Paul’s bustling downtown. We have the most divine coffee at a locally owned pastry shop. I get caught up talking to the owner about how her partner is moving to London and she’s debating whether to buy him out or sell. Kael eventually drags me away but not before I get her recipe for the best cheese-and-grape turnover I’ve ever had. We exchange e-mail addresses, promising to keep in touch.

Next, we hit a quaint used bookstore where Kael allows me time to meander through overpacked shelves and pick through everything from thrillers that came out last year to first editions of classics from the eighteen hundreds. Those were under lock and key, of course. Yet another place he has to drag me from.

Finally after an unconventional lunch of award-winning ice cream from a place called Greenery Creamery, we arrive at the Cathedral of Saint Paul. When we pull into the parking lot I note all the cars and navy and ivory ribbons hanging from the gorgeous tall red doors.

Shit. Saturday afternoon at a Catholic church. Of course. “There’s a wedding going on. We can’t go in.”

Kael scoffs, cutting the engine. “Of course we can, Swan. A wedding is a celebration.”

“Yes, one it’s customary to be invited to,” I shout as he exits the car and shuts the door. Then he forces me from the vehicle by grabbing right behind my knees where he proceeds to tickle until I’m putty in his hands. A few minutes later, Kael has one arm snug around my shoulders, his other hand tucked securely in mine.

We’re officially wedding crashers, sitting in our jeans and sweaters a few pews back from the dapperly dressed invited guests in this breathtaking church, watching a heart-wrenching ceremony.

Tears balance on my lashes. The groom is an utter mess. The bride is a breath away from losing her shit. And I’m barely holding it together when the first drop of water trickles down my cheek.

I don’t know this couple. I don’t know their lives, their story, or how hard they had to work to get to this moment. But what I do know is—as I sit here and watch two people clearly in love twine their lives together forever—I am filled with hot regret.

I squandered my day.

I stood in front of Kael, repeating the same vows this couple is now saying, and wished wishes I should never have wished.

Now I wish for entirely different things. I wish I had a chance to look deep into Kael’s soul when speaking true words of love and devotion. I wish I could make him understand how he’s painstakingly pieced my broken parts back together. I wish he knew that I will be eternally grateful for the unexpected gift he’s given me. Given
us
. I wish for a redo of it all. Our courtship, our wedding day, our honeymoon, our first time. Our entire life together.

I quickly wipe remorse from my face as the crowd stands and cheers for Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Needlemeyer.
Eck
. Poor girl. When the happy couple glides by us, they’re so lost in their own bubble we could be four-headed aliens and they wouldn’t even notice. We stay put as the wedding party passes us next, followed by the cutest little girl in the most adorable navy-blue dress and matching patent leather shoes. Petals from the small bouquet she’s winging back and forth sail to the ground behind her. She squeals and takes off down the long aisle as a boy a few years old in a smart navy suit chases after her. Following on their heels is a crazed woman, presumably the mother.

“Cassie, Aiden!” she yells. “Stop this instant.”

Cassie starts nimbly weaving between the pews, Aiden hot on her heels. Neither of them slows a stitch.

Kael squeezes my hand and when my eyes find his, they’re alight with…anticipation? For our own? That thought would have petrified me just months ago. And not because I didn’t want kids. I’ve always wanted a family of my own. But because I always pictured them with Killian instead. Now…now, though, my picture is starting to slowly morph and twist.

When Kael drops his lips to my temple, I exhale in utter contentment. God, how could I not know I had these crazy feelings for him before? So many years wasted. “Good idea I had, huh?”

“I will have to concede you that point, yes,” I agree with a smile.

“Come on. We can slink out the back, undetected.” He tugs on my hand. I stop him, though.

“No. Let’s go give our congratulations to the happy couple.”

He blinks a couple of times before a wide grin takes over his face. He nods. “I like the way you think.”

Wagging my brows, I say excitedly, “Maybe we can finagle an invite to the reception? I can put on that sexy little black number you brought and let you make all the men envious.”

He tucks me into his arms. “Ah yes, but then you’d show up the bride. And every bride deserves to be the center of attention on her special day.” Dropping a fast kiss to my lips, the celebration fades away as he continues in a low, promising timbre, “Besides, I have something planned for tonight with you in that sexy little black number.”

“Sheila’s surprise?”

“No. It’s
my
surprise. Sheila just helped me with a few loose ends.”

This man. He’s so good to me. Too good.

I wrap my arms all the way around Kael’s waist and cinch them hard. Burying my head in his chest, I inhale a lungful of his masculine scent and spicy cologne, wondering how in the hell I got so lucky.

“Kael?”

“Mavs?”

“Would you maybe, ah, want to renew our vows someday?” It won’t make up for what I took from us the first time, but maybe it gives me a second chance to do it right.

He stills. Most of the guests have exited the church or are milling around the entrance. So there’s no one around when he pulls back a short breadth and cups my cheeks with his big hands. When I see the fat drops of water in his eyes, my own blur.

“You want to renew our vows?” The surprise in his voice slays me.

Suddenly I feel flush. My stomach flips like a net full of fish is in it. I can’t speak, so I nod instead, spilling all the drops that have built up in my lids.

“Mavs.” His voice cracks. He stops and swallows. Shuts his eyes for a brief moment. “I would renew my vows with you every single day for the rest of my life if that’s what you wanted. My life has
always
been pledged to you.”

I bite my lip, trying like hell to hold in a sob. “I want,” I whisper hoarsely. I want more than anything.

Kael places his forehead gently to mine. His lids fall shut. He breathes in deep. “Just name the date and time, Swan.”

It’s easier to pull myself together when he’s not staring at me with so much love I still don’t yet feel I deserve. “I know you like untraditional, but I’d like to do it on our one-year anniversary. I want small and intimate. Maybe even just us.” I don’t want drama and yesterdays staring me in the face.

“I’d like that.” He must feel the same.

“Okay. It’s a date then.”

“It’s a date then,” he repeats, breathy and sweet. “One I wouldn’t miss on my life.”

L
ater that night
, we walk into Barrington’s, a swanky bar just blocks away from our B and B. A chill runs the length of my spine from the bitter cold outside. I think the temp has dropped fifteen degrees since this afternoon. There are a few flakes of snow in the air and while I need to get back to the bakery, I wouldn’t mind if we woke up to a foot of snow, stealing an extra day here. I’m in no rush to head back to Dusty Falls and everything that awaits us there. Spending uninterrupted time with Kael, away from it all—let’s be brutally honest, away from Killian—is as if an enormous weight has been lifted from my chest.

I see nothing but Kael. As it should be.

“Oh, look, there’s a nice secluded table in the back.” A perfect place for slipping off a shoe and running my bare foot up Kael’s thigh until his eyes dilate and hood. Until his cock gets so fucking hard, he makes me give him a hand job under the table. He refused to touch me earlier, making me shower alone. I’m still a little cross about that. He said,
“Anticipation heightens the senses, Swan. And I want every one of your senses strung tight as a bow by the time we get back to our room.”
Well, I can string his senses into knots, too.

“Let’s order a drink first,” he whispers against my cheek. With a hand at the small of my back, Kael maneuvers us around to the far side of the long granite bar and smoothly orders. “I’ll have a Babyface Nelson.”

“A Babyface Nelson? What’s that?” I ask, looking up at him. That sexy dimple of his pops when he simultaneously quirks the corner of his lip and winks.

The bartender nods and reaches for a bottle of Jack Daniels. My forehead scrunches. Kael doesn’t even like Jack. But it doesn’t come off the shelf. Instead, the bartender pulls it forward, like a lever or a switch, and the wall to our left, which is painted entirely black, slides open with a soft whisper.

“Thanks, man,” Kael says.

“Oh my God. What is this?” I ask in wonder, staring at the open staircase in front of us.

Kael ushers me forward, my hand now trapped in his. When we walk through the open space it shuts behind, closing us in, muffling the noise. We’re now on the landing of a dimly lit narrow wooden stairway. The steps are old and worn. Curved a little in the middle from so many years of use. A closed steel-gray door at the bottom traps us in.

“Where are we?” I whisper. It echoes loudly, sounding as if we’ve stepped right inside a tin can.

“The gateway to heaven,” Kael smoothly answers.

I pivot and grab the lapels of his peacoat. Sliding to my tiptoes, I bat my eyes seductively. “You told me this morning that was between my beautiful thighs.”

Storm clouds roll into his brown eyes, deepening them to an inky black. He steps into me. I step back. He steps into me again but I have nowhere to go because my back is now flush with the brick wall. Dropping his palms on either side of my head he presses his lower half fully into me. He’s so damn hard. It takes my breath away.

“I want to fuck you so bad right now,” he tells me. His tone is low and gravelly. Guttural. Yeah, guttural and sinful as hell.

“Here?” I’m panting.
Panting
.

Steely, determined dark pools of lust bore into mine. “Yes.”

My body temp soars. I’m so damn hot and bothered right now I feel like I’m melting right into the wall. My eyes dart to the doors on either side of us. “Right here? In this stairwell?”

“Yes,” his husky voice whispers with surety against the shell of my ear. My lids drift shut. My lips part on a gasp. One of his hands has slid down my outer thigh. Finding bare skin, he’s now trailing it back up. Pretty soon he’s going to discover the surprise I was saving for later. “Oh fuck, Swan,” he growls long and low when he hits my bare, uncovered pussy. My bare, uncovered,
dripping
pussy.

Then I’m the one to curse when he pushes two greedy fingers inside me. And I hoarsely gasp his name when he starts fingering me with pure, focused dedication to my pleasure alone.

It feels so good all I can do is hold on for the ride.

I’m fully aware we are dangerously exposed. My dress is pulled up to my waist, my privates on full display as my husband finger fucks me in a public place. Anyone could walk through either door. At any moment. But that also heightens my need…deepens this primary element inside me to connect with him on every possible level.

“So wet,” he rumbles as if in pain. “So ungodly wet, Mavs.” God in heaven, I am. The sound of my flesh being worked is wild and decadent.

I snake a hand between us so I can grip his erection over his slacks. He groans and pulses twice in quick succession when my fingers wrap around his girth. I stroke him up and down. He swells more with each pass.

“I should have bent you over the bed and taken you in front of that floor-length mirror before we left,” he grunts against my lax mouth.

“You should have,” I manage to cobble together. I’m so lost in us, in the places he’s pushing me, that I act without thinking. With my free hand, I undo the single tie on my side holding the two halves of my dress together. I tug the material apart, exposing my sheer black bra. It barely covers my beaded nipples.