Given (Give &Take) (6 page)

I
examined my engagement ring with blurry, gritty eyes, strained and burning from all of my crying. The diamond was large but not pretentious, oval, resting in an antique filigree setting of what I figured was platinum. It was breathtaking.

My heart expanded and the salty wetness began to pool in my eyes again as I looked up at Merrick.

“It’s similar to Ingrid Weston’s ring,” he said, taking my hand and admiring the beautiful stone. “In the photo of her and Archibald on their family tree, her ring looks a little bit like this.” He brushed a strand of hair back from my face and tucked it behind my ear. “They brought us together. I wanted to acknowledge that in your ring, but it had to be all yours, too—ours. Just ours.”

Ingrid Burkhart Weston was the original matron of Turtle Tear. I recited the love story between her and her husband Archibald to Merrick during our interview. Ingrid’s parents forbade her to be with Archibald, so he climbed a ladder to her window and whisked her away to Turtle Tear. When I turned down the project manager position with Rocha Enterprises to
stay at home with my mother—what she wanted, not what I wanted—Merrick wouldn’t let me sacrifice my desire to lead the renovation of the hotel. Being the impulsive, stubborn man that he is, he kidnapped me, although we like to refer to it as whisking me away to Turtle Tear as Archibald did with Ingrid. Waking up tied to a bed in the ruins of an historic hotel with a guilt-ridden man who has no interest in harming you, only talking you into accepting a position with his company, is insane, and at the same time, it was our perfect start.

Merrick slipped the ring from my finger and held it up so I could see the inside edge of the band, where a small turtle was engraved along with the words:
Forever My Home and Heart—M
.

Speechless and overwhelmed, I stood on tiptoe, tears falling freely, reaching for his lips as he slid the ring back on my finger. “That smile,” he said before I could kiss him, “it’s what I live for.”

“You could’ve been getting a lot more smiles if you would’ve just given me the damn ring sooner,” I teased, and bit his bottom lip.

“Ouch!” Merrick chuckled and grabbed me, dipping me back and pressing his soft, demanding lips to mine. I inhaled deeply through my nose, closing my eyes and relaxing into his kiss, feeling secure in his arms. I ran my hands up over his strong shoulders and twined my fingers in his hair. The ring felt so foreign, yet so… anticipated, on my finger. Despite what had brought the proposal about, this moment was perfect and I’d never forget it.

Before I knew what was happening, I was airborne and came down on the bed with a soft bounce. Merrick pounced and held himself over me with a devious glint in his eye. “Now, Ms. DeSalvo, will you stop picking fights with me, or do I have to take drastic measures?”

A giggle bubbled up from my stomach as desire flamed between my legs. I reached down and grasped the bulge behind his zipper. “I’m in need of drastic measures, Mr. Rocha. Very drastic measures.”

“Mmm. You’re in for it now, woman.” He flicked open the button on my jeans and unzipped them. As he scooted down the bed, tugging my pants down, I grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head.

With one deft yank, my jeans and underwear were swept off and tossed to the floor. Merrick splayed his fingers across the inside of my thighs and pushed them far apart. His dark eyes smoldered as he gazed up at me. “I owe you a million earth-shattering orgasms for what I put you through today. I’m so sorry. I only wanted—”

I shoved his face between my legs, muffling his words. “Start with the drastic measures already!” The last thing I wanted was to rehash what was now behind us. We had a beautiful future to start.

Merrick laughed, his hot breath and vibrating lips against my delicate flesh. I arched my back and ran my nails over his scalp. “You asked for it,” he whispered, blowing down my center.

Hell yes, I asked for it. I’d beg for it if I had to. I was so
far gone, addicted to this man between my legs, I’d suffer a serious withdrawal without him. But he was mine. One hundred percent mine. My fiancé. Soon to be my husband. Mine and nobody else’s forever.

Well, except MJ and Nadia’s…

He spread me open with his fingers and licked me from my bottom to the tip, where he pressed his tongue firmly against the tiny, miraculous nerves that sent me through the ceiling. Letting out heavy pants of breath, I watched him, caught his eyes and wicked smirk as he did it a second time.

God, how did I get so lucky? His broad shoulders flexed against my legs, and his long fingers swirled gently, replacing his tongue as he lowered his eyes, studying me. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “All I ever want.”

He latched his lips on to me, probing me with his tongue and sucking gently, then harder. There was no stopping the rush, the build, the inevitable explosion. I closed my eyes, gave myself over to Merrick completely, and let it come with such force, I cried out, head thrown back, fists gripping his hair. “Merrick, Merrick, Merrick,” I found myself whimpering when I came back from my out-of-body experience.

He took my hand, loosening it from his hair, and sat up on his knees. “Come here.”

Slack-boned and limp-muscled, I let him pull me up. He slipped both hands under my butt and lifted me up the incline of his thighs. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my breasts against his chest, and slid my tongue
between his lips. Kissing this man, tasting him—and me on him—exploring him, was my lifeblood. I thrived on being this close—could never get close enough.

We held each other and kissed like it was the first time… the last time. His hands squeezed my behind, pushing his hard length against me. I hooked my ankles behind him and let my hands roam over his shoulders, up the sides of his face, and down his back with suppressed urgency. I didn’t want to rush it, but could barely hold myself back.

He kissed my collarbone, my neck, and under my ear before whispering, “Wife. I like how that sounds. Wife.”

I couldn’t suppress a delighted laugh. “I like how it sounds, too. Husband. That has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“I do. Hmm… I do. I do, I do.” Merrick chuckled and kissed my cheek, my forehead, my nose. “Do you want a baby?”

Shocked, I backed away enough to look into his eyes. “Not tonight.” I laughed. “Maybe someday. Do you?”

His head tilted slightly as he considered it. His lips curved into a slight smile. “I think I do, Rachael. Something about imagining you with our baby makes me want it to be real.”

I pressed my forehead to his so we were nose to nose. “You will be a wonderful father. You’ve already had a little practice after all.”

He threaded his fingers through my hair and held my head in his hands. “Next time I’ll be around for all of it.”

I grinned and tightened my thighs around his waist. “You couldn’t get away if you tried.”

Merrick lifted me and settled me down onto him, easing gently into me. I let my head fall back and moaned. “I’d never try,” he whispered against my throat.

We rocked wordlessly, soundlessly, unhurried. He lifted and lowered me in a gentle, easy rhythm, building pressure inside me so sweet, my eyes stung with tears. Overwhelmingly happy tears.

It was happening. Merrick and I were engaged. The ring on my finger promised we would be married soon. He wanted a baby. It was unreal to me that he’d asked. We’d never spoken of it—of any of it—but I should’ve known we’d be on the same page. We always were when all of the misunderstanding was stripped away and it was just the two of us, bare to the blinding white truth.

R
achael clenched my shoulders tighter and increased her pace, rising and falling on me faster and faster. I felt her tighten and twitch around me. “Yes,” she whispered between moans. I couldn’t hold on much longer. She’d take me with her any second.

I trained my gaze on her face, knowing exactly how her brows would bunch together over her closed eyes. She’d cry out and then her mouth would remain open, soundless, widening as a rush of breath came out before a whimper. I loved giving her that expression, hearing the ecstasy in her moans and seeing it when she was silently riding the last of the wave.

God, she was so tight. So hot and wet. She gritted her teeth and rode me hard, determined to get what she wanted. What she needed. “Take it,” I whispered. I thumbed her nipples, groaning as she rose even higher and slammed down onto me.

If she didn’t come fast, I was going to throw her on her back and make her come. This was torture of the most amazing kind, but I needed to explode inside her and feel
the spasms of her orgasm around my cock. “Come for me, baby.”

She was a woman possessed. Her eyes pierced mine, begging without a word as her hips ground against mine, seeking, eager, desperate to find release. Gently, I pushed her a hand’s-width away from my body and eased my palm down between us, gliding over her sweat-dampened skin. My thumb slipped between her slick folds and zeroed in on the sweet spot that would give her what she needed. I rubbed her quickly, firmly, and she bucked up from my lap with her head thrown back. “Right there,” she cried, impaling herself back down onto me. “Yes, Merrick. Right there.”

She rode me fast and hard as I worked her with my thumb, taking a hard, pebbled nipple into my mouth and sucking it, nipping it with my teeth. She groaned and ran her nails across my back. “Yes—that—oh God!”

Her muscles gripped around me, pulsing in perfect spasms. My own throbbing started and I let it come, sweeping over me like a tidal wave. Our bodies pressed tight, grinding, contracting, taking and giving in perfect unison. I wove my fingers in her hair and held her to me tightly before laying her back on the bed and easing down on top of her.

I was careful not to lower my entire weight onto her, but I had to feel her under me and kiss her breathless mouth. She was so delicate, so soft and vulnerable. I couldn’t believe someone would open herself to me so completely, but every time we made love, I was amazed once again how she gave herself entirely.

I traced a line from her temple to her chin, her eyes still closed. She couldn’t ever know what she meant to me—what losing her now would do to me.

And she’d agreed to be my wife.

Now that it was settled and I’d asked and she’d accepted, I knew the reason I’d put off asking, and it had nothing to do with giving her time. It was my own fear and insecurity that she’d say no.

I knew she loved me, but promising me the rest of her life was a whole different story. I came with baggage. With issues—so many issues. She took them all in stride and with grace, but would she tire of it?

I had to get better—be better—for her. I wanted to be the best husband she could ever imagine. The thought panicked me. Could I do it?

I shifted and Rachael opened her eyes. “Where are you going?” She grabbed my hips to keep me top of her. “Stay inside me.”

Chuckling, I kissed her forehead. “Trust me, if I could have myself surgically attached, I’d do it.”

I smoothed her eyebrow and kissed her, reveling in her soft, warm lips parting for me, her tongue seeking mine, her quiet moan.

I let my lips stray to the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jaw, and down her neck. “The only place you’re ever going to be is with me.”

She grasped my face in her hands and ran the tip of her nose down the bridge of mine. “And you with me.”

“I already told you, I’d be surgically attached if I could.” I thrust my hips, proving my point.

Rachael inhaled deeply and smiled. “Mmm. Again, my handsome fiancé?” She spread her legs wider, wrapping them around my waist.

I ground my hips against hers. “Again. And again and again. A lifetime of
again
s.” I took her hands, kissed her ring, and pinned her arms over her head. “Now it’s my turn to be on top.”

She dug her heels into the mattress and lifted her hips up to meet mine. “Bring it on, Mr. Rocha. You know I can take anything you dish out.”

“Can you?” I grinned, knowing she could. There wasn’t a more perfect woman for me on earth.

“Try me,” she said, arching into me, egging me on.

I let her hands go and slipped my arms around her, lowering into her and rocking gently. Making slow, sweet love to her was all I wanted.

She giggled softly in my ear. “I love you, Merrick.”

“You must, and that makes me the luckiest man in the world.” I lowered my forehead against hers and closed my eyes, letting the scent of her warm skin and our coming together fill me. “I love you, too, Rachael.”

P
risms of light reflected off my diamond and shot rainbows through my glass of water. I admired the swirling colors before picking up the sweating glass and taking a deep drink.

It was nearly noon and an unseasonably hot day for fall, making me wish I’d brought something lightweight to wear. A few stray grapes lay on a plate beside the remnants of cheese and crusty bread that Mama Renault had brought out for us for a midmorning snack. I had a feeling I’d turn into a grape before leaving the inn, I’d eaten so many.

Merrick had disappeared with the Renaults’ son, Paul, into the cockeyed stone barn that Mama had assured me was safe and not about to fall down around them despite its decrepit appearance. That was over an hour ago.

I was just about to get up and go inside when a high-pitched whine overlapped by a deep-chested rumble drew my attention to the barn. The double doors where shoved open by Paul and out rode Merrick on an ancient, dark green and black motorcycle. Both men were grinning ear to ear.

Merrick turned and gunned the engine, taking off like a bullet down the dirt path that led behind the barn. Paul put a hand up to shade his eyes as he watched. My heart sputtered and pounded. I hated motorcycles. Something so… open and precariously balanced shouldn’t go that fast. Seeing Merrick’s dark hair whipping around his head, I gritted my teeth to rein in my anger at him for not wearing a helmet.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I trained my ears on the distant engine and tried to keep calm. Shouldn’t he ask me how I feel about him riding a motorcycle? We were engaged now after all.

Maybe that wasn’t how it worked. I’d never been engaged before, so I had no idea what I should expect from him. But staying alive at least until the wedding should be a given!

Walking toward me, Paul closed the distance between us with long, eloquent strides. “He come around,” he said with a decent grasp of English, pointing to the opposite side of the vineyard.

True to Paul’s claim, a couple minutes later, the whine-rumble of the motorcycle could be heard coming up the far side of the grapevines. Paul put a hand in the air, waved it back and forth, and began to laugh. “He’s good. Good driver.”

“He’s something,” I muttered, rising on tiptoe to get a better view. “If he kills himself, I’ll kill him.”

There he was, Merrick Rocha, king of the road, or the
Renault Vineyard at least, pumping a fist in the air and laughing into the wind. It was the happiest I had seen him—out of our bed—in weeks. With a swift pang in my gut, I held my left hand out and glimpsed at the sparkling diamond on my finger.

There’d been so much stress and animosity between us lately. A ring doesn’t make it all disappear. There were issues we had to face and work through. He had to see me as a partner, someone to make decisions with, not around. I knew he was used to being the man in charge, but if he was looking for a meek woman who would sit back and let him rule, he picked the wrong woman.

Mama Renault bustled out the patio door chatting rapid-fire French to Paul while lifting both hands to shade her eyes, looking toward Merrick on the motorcycle. Before Paul had a chance to respond, she grasped my arm and cried out, “Oh! Papa’s motorcycle!” Then began to laugh and clap her hands.

“Papa can’t ride,” Paul explained. “Too old.”

“You like to ride?” Mama asked me, gesturing enthusiastically at the quickly approaching bike. “Go for a ride.”

“No. I don’t like to ride,” I said, taking a step back.

Merrick pulled up to the patio and lowered his feet to the ground to brace the bike. It idled like the purr of a wild cat just freed from the zoo. He patted the seat behind him, grinning at me like a madman. “Hop on!”

He
was
mad to think I’d go anywhere near that thing. “No way.”

“Come on. You can hold on to me. There’s a lake way down past the vineyard I want you to see. It’s beautiful.” He cocked one brow and shot me his dimpled Rocha smile. “Please?”

In light of my need to assert myself and enforce my opinions, I wanted to plant my ass firmly on the picnic table bench and refuse to budge, but the warm gush of emotions flowing through my chest at the sight of him, excited, filled to bursting with exuberance and wanting to share that feeling with me, had me giving in.

I sighed. “Fine, but if you kill me, I’ll never forgive you.”

He laughed as I swung a leg over the seat and wrapped my arms around his waist. “You’ll haunt me for the rest of my life alive
or
dead.” He lifted my hand and kissed it. “I prefer you breathing, though.” Leaning back, he turned his head to whisper in my ear, “I lied. I prefer you breathless underneath me. Hold on tight.”

We took off with a jolt and I buried my face against his back. The wind whipped my hair around in tangles, and the seat sent vibrations through my entire body. I eased my eyes away from Merrick and glanced over his shoulder.

My breath caught in my throat at the sight of endless green hills and valleys with their cut-out fields like a patchwork quilt, some dotted in reds, yellows, and purples of autumn flowers, some striped by vineyards. The tall, leaning stone barn stood sentry, watching over the Renault property.

Merrick pointed to a lake, just visible up ahead. The
banks were clogged with water weeds, a small blue wooden boat bobbed just off the shore, and an old farmhouse sat, squat and square, at the water’s edge, like a bloated fat toad. The holes in the thatched roof, broken windows, and general disrepair spoke of abandonment from long ago.

Merrick slowed and stopped, lowering his feet to the ground, then turned the bike’s engine off. “What do you think?”

“It’s amazing.” I eased off the bike, eyes locked on the house. I felt my creativity itching to escape onto design boards.

He laughed and propped the bike up before kicking his leg over and following me toward the water. “I mean the motorcycle. I knew you’d like the house.”

I shoved my windblown hair back, trying to conceal a smile. “It’s not as terrible as I thought.”

“That’s a rare vintage Harley-Davidson.” He took my hand and helped me into the little blue boat.

“It’s loud.” I sat and watched him climb in and push us off the bank with an oar. He looked better than he had in a long time. Hair blown back, sun on his face, smile in his eyes. If the bike did this for him, he could have twenty of the damn things.

“I was thinking of making Paul an offer for it.” One of his brows cocked, testing me. “I could get it shipped to Turtle Tear, ride it around the island. You have to admit it’s a lot more fun that a golf cart. Plus, Beck would go insane over it.”

At that, he seemed to shut down, turning to face the water, chin dropped, forehead creased. Something was going on. “Merrick?” I reached out and touched his knee. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

He covered my hand with his. A sad smile crossed his lips. “Beck’s gone. Went back to Nebraska.”

“What? Why?”

“I fired him. You’ve heard him play that cello. That’s what he was meant to do. His life’s been stranded on that island for long enough.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “But he moved on from playing professionally. He didn’t want to do that anymore. Just because he dug it out and started playing again doesn’t mean he wasn’t happy with what he was doing on the island. He was content with his life how it was, Merrick. How could you do that?”

“Being content isn’t good enough. He deserves more.”

Every second brought me more and more anger. I pulled my hand from his knee and sat up straight. “You have to stop playing dictator. You don’t always get to choose what happens to the people in your life. Let us choose!”

Confusion swept over his features. “Dictator? That’s what you think of me? First, I’m a fool for chasing down Nadia, now I’m a dictator? Why the hell would you agree to marry me if you think those things?”

I clenched my fists in rage. “Why is it all or nothing with you? I can love you without you having to be perfect! I’m not perfect! Do you not love me despite my flaws?”

He blinked a few times, narrowing his eyes. “You are perfect. Perfect for me. I’m sorry I’m not perfect for you.”

“You are perfect
for me
, but nobody’s perfect.” We sat in silence in the center of the lake. The deep blue fall sky reflected off the water, surrounding us, and the sun warmed the tops of our heads. I wondered what was happening to us. Was this what we became when the newness of our relationship wore off?

“What now, Rach?” he asked, sweeping his fingertips in the water. “All we’ve done since we got here is drive each other nuts.”

I watched the water ripple. “And get engaged. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

He looked up at me and grinned. “For us? Makes complete sense.”

I took a deep breath and launched the words that had to be spoken out of my mouth. “We give it one more day, Merrick, then you call Nadia and tell her to meet us at the airport. This is ridiculous. She’s lived almost twenty-one years without you. She’s not a child. You’ve opened your home to her. You don’t need to chase her down and make her come. She’ll be there when she wants to be.”

Merrick smacked his hand down into the water. “Enzo—”

“He’s
not
holding her hostage! Is he? She’s just reluctant to leave him and Gina for whatever reason. We’ll find out what that reason is when she’s ready to tell us.” I grasped my upper arms, trying not to shiver from the nervous
energy rushing through me from arguing. “One more day, okay?”

Merrick shoved his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. He didn’t answer, just paddled us back to shore.

All I could do was pray we got through this together and everything would be back to normal with us once we were home at Turtle Tear.