He stares at my hand and then at my tear-filled eyes. His expression is firm, unbreakable, then softly it melts. He turns so he faces me fully, his body taking up the entire space of the doorway.
I stand still, barely breathing, my hand still outstretched. “I do want you. I want it more than anything. I just don’t know how to want all that comes with you.”
“Do you really feel we can’t fix this? Do you think we can’t be together simply because of New York? Because I’m here to tell you that we can fix anything.”
The weight of my past feels like a hundred-pound brick rests on each shoulder. “I don’t know how to be normal. I tried. I hope you saw how much I truly tried. I wore the clothes. The shoes. I tried to go to the parties.”
He simply nods.
“When I was growing up, reading every romance book I could get my hands on, I would dream of the day I’d find my own Prince Charming and go to the fancy parties and live in the large house with lavish furniture and chandeliers in every room. And then all of a sudden, I had it. I had it all. But what it really became was a deep, deep hole that I sank into.”
“So, we don’t go back to the house. I should have found our own place right at the beginning,” he says. “And if you hate New York, then we’ll move someplace else. Maybe a small town with less noise and action.”
“And what about you? That’s your home. That’s who you are. I can’t pull you away from everything you’ve ever known any more than you can pull me away from what I have grown up with. We are who we are.”
“And you think we need to do that apart? Be who we are?”
I tense, fighting the devastation that threatens to consume me. I search his face, his posture, for some clue as to what he feels. “Yes,” I barely whisper.
“You’re wrong.” Christopher takes the few steps that separates us and grabs my hand. “You and I have one thing that is stronger than all else. Love.”
Tears well in my eyes; pain wells in my heart. “We are the demented love story. Remember?”
He pulls me into his arms, burying my face against his chest. “But a love story, nonetheless. I love you, Ember. I know that with every inch of my being. I also know I can’t live without you. So, yes, if we both have to start over so we can begin anew, then so be it. The question is if you are willing to.”
I nod against his warmth. “I want to. I want to so badly. I’m just scared. And I love you. I love you so much that it actually hurts when I think about it. My chest tightens to the point of pain.”
“Then we fight,” he murmurs against my hair. “We fight against every single person getting in our way. No one will block us any longer. No one and nothing. You are my bride, and I’m taking you back.”
“How? There’s still a storm outside, and based on what Holly says, it could keep going for days,” I counter, clutching tighter to him. “And I know you said we’d call the police on Richard and Scarecrow. But then where does that leave Holly and Violet?”
“We’ll figure it all out.” He looks out the door at the snow falling and then closes it behind him. I realize the door has remained open the entire time. Maybe giving us both the option to flee. A choice we’ve both decided against.
He then tips my face up to meet his, his eyes filled with a blend of love and passion. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
I turn to walk away and put some logs on the fire, knowing Holly and Violet will be back with a fresh pile of firewood soon. Christopher grabs hold of my wrist and pulls me close to him. He leads us to my private corner with nothing but a tattered sheet, concealing what I know is coming next.
“Not yet,” he says. “Don’t walk away yet.”
“But the fire… I should tend to the fire.” I turn away again, but he pulls me harder.
I look over my shoulder, down at my wrist that is firmly gripped, and then back into his eyes.
He tugs my arm toward him, giving me no choice but to stumble up against his chest.
“Kiss me,” he orders in a gruff whisper.
I follow his direction gladly. I want nothing more than to feel his lips against mine.
Our mouths meet, a pull neither can resist any longer. Our hunger demands to be satiated. Time and distance has kept us apart, but our true love never broke. His heart beats against mine as he arranges my body closer. The single kiss has the power to reunite us forever, forgetting all the wrong by both. The kiss is the period to our run-on sentence that seems to never end. One kiss speaks volumes for what is meant.
I want him.
I want him this very second… regardless of our current location and situation. Regardless that Holly and Violet can enter the chapel at any minute. And regardless that I don’t know if we will ever get our happily ever after. But I want him…
Now.
“I need to be with my wife,” he says as his eyes seem to darken right before me.
My heart skips, knowing he feels the same way I do. Our bodies are in tune, even though our lives will never be.
Without asking, without pausing, he removes my dress effortlessly, nothing beneath it to cover me. I’m completely naked, standing before my husband.
“I need you too, but….” I can feel the heat of his stare on my naked body, but I don’t try to conceal myself. I stand and await his next command.
“Don’t fight this. Stop fighting us.”
He leans forward, takes hold of my hips, and pulls me closer to him. Kiss by kiss, he lowers us to the makeshift bed, and then lowers further down until his face is inches from my sex.
“I want the taste of you on my tongue.” He doesn’t wait for permission but rather kisses my pussy, followed by licking my throbbing clit.
I tense at the invasion—thinking I’d never get to feel such pleasure ever again in my life. Part of me wants to stop, and the other part wants the feeling to never end.
He swirls his tongue in circles, lapping up every sign of my arousal. I moan with complete abandon, knowing Holly and Violet could walk in at any minute, but I can’t resist.
My body seems possessed by Satan himself—no doubt something Papa Rich would accuse me of. I have absolutely no power against the devil when it comes to what Christopher is able to do to my body.
Lick after lick, he brings my body to another level. Just when I believe I can take no more, he thrusts his finger past the lips of my pussy. In and out, he plunges, pulling gasps and muffled moans from me. I hide my face beneath a pillow in hopes of concealing my rising pleasure.
“Spread your legs wider,” he directs, his voice husky.
Suffocated by love at the familiar—yet so very distant memory—command, I do exactly as he asks without any hesitation. Lying beneath his shadow, I peek up from the pillow to see his face. The strong features, the firm lips, the sensitive eyes. The same expression I remember washes over his face… strength, love, passion. These are the eyes of my husband. The man I vowed to love. The man I vowed to spend the rest of my life with.
And yet… I ran.
I broke the vows.
I shattered everything.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur more to myself than to him. “I’m so sorry I left.”
“Shh,” he whispers as he places his lips to my pussy.