Man of My Dreams (34 page)

My greedy hands roam his sweat-glistening body. I wrap my legs around his waist, and let him fill me up, slowly at first, inch by inch. I love when he teases me, when we have the time to play like this. I smile as it all comes into focus. I was a fun girl in my twenties, but I’m a confident woman in my thirties. A wicked grin splays across my heated face as I grip a fistful of his hair and whisper into his ear, “Harder.”

With a harsh thrust he answers my request, pounding into me and making me moan with the pleasure of deep penetration. He rocks into me, watching me, telling me with his eyes how much he loves me. He lifts my arm to his mouth to kiss my wrist, the place where I’ve branded myself with his name. It may have taken a while to make the right decision, but my body felt incomplete without it. “This thing is so fucking hot, Mia. You’re so fucking hot.”

How he can see me like this after so many years just floors me. I’m so goddamn lucky. I bring my hand up to his heart, loving the feel of the galloping underneath. I trace the tattooed shape around my name, in awe of how far we’ve come.

“You’re my number one, baby. You’ll always be my number one.”

The heavenly tremors course through me as I open my eyes. It’s light out, the sun creeping brightly through the gaps in the window coverings. I stretch groggily, feeling for Declan—the man who can make me feel like this even in my dreams. But his side of the bed is empty. The girls are definitely up, the baby’s quiet. Where can they all be? Strange.

I slide my feet into my slippers and shuffle through my bedroom into the hallway. I peek into Edward’s bedroom first, but the crib’s empty. I walk a few more feet down the hall to check on Cara and Charlie. Their TV is on, but their room, and its strewn-all-over-the-place contents, is vacant. I head for the stairs, suspicious of the silence. The kitchen is usually boisterous with my family’s morning rituals, but today there’s not a trace of them. No empty cereal bowls or dirty napkins. Not even an unfinished baby bottle or bib. Where the hell is everyone?

I make my way to the phone to call Declan. Maybe he took them out for breakfast and decided to let me sleep in. I’ve been working my butt off trying to finish this book and getting little sleep with Edward’s teething. That’s got to be what it is. A break.
I have the best damn husband in the world.
But before I have the chance to press send on the call, I hear subdued noises coming from downstairs.

I open the door to the staircase of the newly finished basement and almost collide with Cara, who is cradling Edward in her arms. “Morning, Mom.”

“Morning, baby. What’s going on?”

“Edward pooped. I’m running up to change him.”

I open my arms to take my son from his sister, but Cara rejects the offer. “No, I got him. Charlie’s right behind me. She was helping Dad with something.”

I smile, tapping her atop her long blond waves.
When the hell did she grow up?

Charlie comes pummeling up the steps, nearly knocking me down. “Oh. Hey, Mommy. Did you see Cara? She’s got EC. He pooped.”

I shake my head, trying hard not to smirk. “Baby, you’ve got to stop calling him that. That’s not why I named him that.”

“Yeah, sure. You love a vampire more than you love our dad. It’s okay, we get it, but I’m team Jacob all the way!” Charlie dismisses me as she breezes past me in the stairway.

I shout out over my shoulder, “I named him after Papa’s dad, Charlie. Not a Twilight character!” This is starting to get old. I might have to give him a nickname or something.

Walking down the steps, I admit to myself that
Twilight
definitely did have a little something to do with his name, considering the books are what got me all hot and bothered and caused the conception of the vampire’s namesake in the first place. They caused the conception of a lot of things, including my new hobby.

I turn the corner, past my pretty, Pottery Barn-inspired workspace to find Declan in his favorite spot. He’s seated at the desk in his studio, scribbling away. The studio was a gift for our fifth anniversary, the first one after our separation. Declan needed a place to be creative, to live out his real dreams and to write all those beautiful words that make me swoon. Most nights I can’t get him out of here. I think he loves the writing more than he loves me. But I understand that now too.

“What are you working on, babe?” I creep up behind Declan, startling him.

“Oh shit, Mia. You scared the crap out of me.” He hovers over his notebook, hiding whatever he’s up to.

I roll his chair out from underneath the desk, straddling his lap. “Is it for me?”

“Maybe,” he says against my neck.

“I can’t wait to hear it. If it’s anything like the last one we may be welcoming a fourth baby soon.”

Declan’s lips stiffen and his hands pull my head back, tugging on my hair. “Way to kill the mood. No more baby talk. Three is enough to handle right now. Four would put me over the edge.”

“Oh! Now that you’re home all the time you see it’s not that easy, huh?”

“I don’t know how you did it when the girls were small. Fucking supermom. A hot, sexy supermom.”

I giggle as Declan nibbles my ear, the warmth of his breath creating a warmth down below. I turn my head so I can kiss him, fixing my hungry mouth against his. It never gets old, the reaction of us connecting this way. The sexy hitch of his breath, the low growl in his throat. My heart starts to quicken as his fingers make their sly descent into my panties.

“Dec, we can’t.” I squirm on top of him, hating my own words. I wish we could wherever, whenever, however.

“I thought that’s why you had this room built for me. Soundproof walls. I’ll close the blinds. The kids are busy upstairs—we can squeeze in a quickie.”

“I can’t, babe. I have work to do today. There’s a deadline on that article for the magazine and I want to get in another chapter for the book…the voices are talking to me again.” My smile grows wide and bright. So many things make me happy these days: my husband, my kids, my writing. But feeling like I have a purpose in life, a calling other than to just raise my kids, makes this ordinary life seem like a dream come true.

“Oh yeah, listen to that.” He presses his ear to the side of my head. “I hear them too. They’re saying you have time for a quickie.”

To the best friend a girl could ask for. Tara, you were the very first person I told about my adventure into the writing world. Since day one, and even before, you have been a constant supporter, advisor, and #1 fan! Your enthusiasm as I sent you snippets, chapter by chapter, fueled me to keep on going and for that I am forever in your debt. You are a true one-of-a-kind, like-no-other BFF for life. Thank you for always being there for me throughout all the crazy, amazing, memorable years. I love you like a sister and couldn’t live without you.

To my husband, Jon, and my two beautiful daughters, Julia and Leah. You got the raw end of this bargain—an inattentive wife and Mommy, nights with crappy dinners, days plopped in front of the TV for entertainment, and constant stress-induced mood swings.
I’m so sorry!
I could not have done this—embarked on this dream of a journey—without all three of you in my corner. Jon, I can’t imagine how my life would have turned out had we not met in the halls of our high school so many years ago. I have not one single regret and I am thankful every day that you have stuck by me, supported me, and loved me through more than half of my life. To my girls, being your Mommy is a blessing. You inspire me, make me laugh and smile, and lots of times you make me shake my head, but the two of you complete me!! I love you “whole sky” and so much more!

To my Mom and my sisters. Together we are four strong, stubborn, loving, caring, wacky women—different in so many ways, but alike in more ways than we truly know. Mom, thank you for making sure we keep as close as we should and for always being our rock. You’re not only my mother, but one hell of a great friend! Vanessa and Paige, thank you for letting me be
me
—never stop being you. That’s why I love you both so much.

To my in-laws. I hate calling you that because you are as much a part of me as my own parents and siblings. Even before word was out, I could always count on you for support. Thank you for the numerous, impromptu times you picked up the kids and whisked them away to their home away from home so I could enjoy a few moments of “me” time. You are the warmest, kindest, most generous and loving family and I thank my lucky stars every day that you welcomed me in to it.

To my friends who were dragged into this early on. Tara, Trish, Marianne, Celeste, Jessica, Christine, and Erica—you were my guinea pigs! And your encouraging words and suggestions through ping-ponging texts and emails were so important to me. Thank you for believing in me and for helping me get over my fear of putting my writing out there.

To my critique partners who I consider invaluable, lifelong friends now; Ruthie Henrick, Carol Opalinski, and Virginia Pierce. It’s hard to put into words what you mean to me. It started out as pure gratitude for polishing my work and pointing out the “no-nos.” It turned into so much more. The three of you are so gifted; your talent completely unique and inspiring. I look forward to your emails and texts because our relationships have grown and blossomed into something far beyond critiquing. Thank you for pushing me and always being there for me, even when I was whining or complaining or being a kvetch.

To the authors who took the time out of their busy, successful lives to email, tweet, chat or respond to a newbie. Jennifer Probst, Jasinda Wilder, E.L. Montes, and Gail McHugh, thank you for all the unending advice. To Gail McHugh, especially, who practically took me under her wing and showed me the ropes of the indie author world. You totally rock…hard! Not only are you someone I aspire to be like because of your beautiful talent, but your humbleness astounds me. I sincerely appreciate every email, Facebook message, phone call, shout out, and simple “like” of a comment—you never leave me hanging and always have this way of making me feel like I
can
do this!

To the bloggers, Facebook groups, and readers who took a chance on an unknown newbie and pimped my page, shared my links, read my teasers and just existed in a cyberworld that started off so lonely. A special thanks to Lisa Maurer of True Story Book Blog, Amy McAvoy of Schmexy Girl Book Blog, Heather Carver of Morning After a Good Book, the three amazing sisters at Love Between the Sheets, the supportive, wonderful friends I’ve made on the Book Babes group, my Gotta Have Faith street team, and Stuart West for being one cool dude.

Thank you to Regina Wamba at Mae I Designs for creating the most unexpected, picture-perfect cover. I could not have imagined it better myself.

To my editor, Melanie Gilcher. I can’t express how happy I am that Amy sent me your way! Thank you for your meticulous eye, your ability to see things in a way I couldn’t, and for being in sync with me on so many levels. Mia thanks you for keeping her in check and Declan is so happy he was able to share more of himself. Working with you was a dream…hope you’re ready for more!

To my formatter, Angela McLaurin of Fictional Formats. Thank you for answering endless questions and responding to long, frazzled texts and messages. You promised me my book would be pretty…I had no doubt. You are super sweet and talented and I look forward to working with you on future projects.

And to all the readers, friends and family who’ve shared their excitement and support. There are too many of you to name personally, but you cannot go forgotten and you never will.