Only Love
Page 53
I smiled and kissed him again. “I bet I do.”
At Emme’s insistence, we squeezed an extra chair in at the head table for Ryan. Sitting with us were the bride and groom, whom we tortured endlessly by banging our silverware on our glasses, Maren and Dallas, Nate’s two groomsmen and their wives.
I introduced Ryan to everyone and although he was quiet throughout most of dinner, he did chat with Dallas about tattoos and motorcycles for a while—apparently Dallas was in the market for a bike and Ryan was considering more ink. He also conversed with one of Nate’s friends about urban farming in Detroit. For a moment, I froze, praying I wouldn’t hear the words colony collapse disorder. Thankfully, the guy was more into vegetables than bees, and I experienced a secret thrill when I heard him ask Ryan how often he got to Detroit and the answer was, “Not too often in the past, but hopefully more in the future.”
Later, the band played Sinatra and I dragged him out on the dance floor, despite his protestations that he was not a dancer.
“I’m not either,” I said, “I just like this song.”
“I have no rhythm.” But he put an arm around my back and took my hand.
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “You have demonstrated excellent rhythm to me several times in the past.”
“That’s different.”
“It’s not. I don’t need fancy footwork. Just hold me really close and sway. I’ll be happy.”
He sighed. “I’ll do my best.”
A minute later, Grams and Roberto danced by. “Well, hello darlings!” she said. “Don’t you two look cozy.”
Roberto, an excellent dancer, turned Grams under his arm toward us. Before spinning back toward him, she leaned over and said, “You’re welcome.”
Then they were off again, leaving us to sway in place, a little awkwardly, a little out of time to the beat, but I didn’t care.
We had our own rhythm, and it was perfect.
Later, my mother and Phil drove Grams home so Ryan could stay and enjoy the reception with me. But it wasn’t long afterward that I began to get tired of being in a crowd. I loved the way people looked at us, with a mix of envy and curiosity, but I knew that being on display was not Ryan’s thing. After cake and coffee spiked with a little whiskey, I leaned over to him. “Want to get out of here?”
“Say the word,” he said quietly. “I can’t wait to be alone with you.”
“Let’s do it.” We said goodnight to my family, and Emme gave me an extra long, hard hug.
“I’m so happy for you,” she whispered. “I have such a good feeling about you guys.”
“Me too. Have fun tonight.”
She let go of me and gave me a sly grin. “You too.” Then she turned to Ryan and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. “Thank you so much for coming,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Grams told him she needed an escort to a funeral,” I told them. “Can you believe that?”
“I’d say no, but I’ve met her.” Nate shook his head and glanced down at Emme. “It’s always the little ones you have to look out for.”
Emme gave him a dirty look and soft punch to the stomach. “Watch it, husband.”
Nate caught her in his arms from behind, locking her in his grasp. “Seriously, you’re a good man to agree to that,” he said to Ryan. “Any other guy I know would have found some reason to say no.”
I took Ryan’s hand. “He is a good man.”
Finally, we were alone in the guest cabin I had to myself for the weekend.
Ryan loosened his tie, but I’d stopped him there.
“Let me,” I whispered.
It was heady business, slipping a tie from around a man’s neck. A jacket from his shoulders. A belt from his pants. I unbuttoned his cuffs. His collar. The row down the front of his shirt. I lifted the hem of his undershirt and watched as he yanked it over his head from the back of his neck and tossed it aside.
At the sight of his bare chest, my stomach quivered, and I felt my core muscles clench. I ran my hands all over his skin. My lips. My tongue. I walked him backward toward the foot of the bed and attempted to push him onto it.
It was like trying to move a tank.
He laughed and wrapped me up in his arms. “My turn,” he said, his breath warm on my lips.
No one had ever done this before, undressed me so patiently and seductively. He turned me away from him and unzipped my dress, sliding the pull tab down slowly from the middle of my shoulder blades to my lower back. Brushing my hair aside, he put his lips at the nape of my neck and kissed his way down my spine, following the path of the dress’s opening. I shivered in anticipation.
Carefully, he guided the dress to my ankles and I stepped out. He draped the gown over a chair and faced me again. Naked except for my beige (of course) panties and nude (some things never change … at least they were designer) heels, I started to feel a little self-conscious.
He put me at ease immediately. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” he said, sweeping his hands down my arms.
I smiled. “You can’t even see me. It’s pitch dark in here.”
“I can see you. And you’ve never looked as beautiful to me as you do right now.” He moved closer, slipping his arms around my waist and pressing his warm, bare chest against my breasts. “Because you’re mine.”
I lifted my hands to his neck. “Yes, I am.”
He kissed me deeply, a kiss full of love and gratitude and possession and fire. “You changed my life,” he said, sweeping me off my feet and carrying me to the bed. “But you did it by letting me be who I already was.”
“You changed mine the same way,” I whispered as I watched him remove the rest of his clothes. As long as I lived, I would never grow tired of seeing him naked.
He pulled off my shoes and slid my underwear down my legs before stretching out above me. “I don’t know where we go from here, Stella Devine, but I know I don’t want to be without you.”
“You don’t have to be.” I hooked my legs over the backs of his thighs and took his face in my hands. “Ever again.”
Pressing my lips to his, I silently vowed to do everything in my power to be worthy of him. To be patient. Kind. Forgiving. To remember everything he’d gone through because he believed in honor. To know that no one held him to a higher standard than he held himself. To love him for exactly who he was and make him grateful that he could feel it.
Now and forever.
Forty-One
Epilogue
STELLA
“Can I peek yet?” I asked.
“No,” came Ryan’s firm reply. “You leave that blindfold where it is or else.”
I giggled. “But we’ve been driving forever. I’m dying to know where you’re taking me.”
“Tough.”
“Can I guess?”
“Go right ahead.”
“Corktown?” I ventured, naming one of our favorite Detroit neighborhoods for restaurants and bars.
“Nope.”
“SheWolf?” Ryan loved the grilled lamb ribs there and I adored the tagliatelle with lobster.
“Nope.”
“Greektown?” I guessed, picturing Monroe Avenue all lit up at night.
“Nope.”
I felt the truck accelerate, as if we were getting on the expressway. “You’re not going to drive clear up to Grams’s house, are you?”
He laughed. “Not a chance. I don’t miss that drive one bit.”
“Me neither.”
Ryan and I had kept things going long-distance for about five months, but the four-hour-drive had grown tedious every weekend. We’d taken turns making it, but since Ryan often had to be on hand for weddings at Cloverleigh, it was me making the drive most of the time. Finally, Ryan felt so bad that he offered to quit his job and move to Detroit to be closer to me. By then, he’d finished the work on his house, and his friend Mack was going to buy it. He needed more space since his three daughters were going to live with him full time. Grams, as you can imagine, was absolutely thrilled to have kids next door (not to mention a potentially single Marine to fix up, but she’d promised me she’d wait until he was officially divorced before she started matchmaking again).
At Emme’s insistence, we squeezed an extra chair in at the head table for Ryan. Sitting with us were the bride and groom, whom we tortured endlessly by banging our silverware on our glasses, Maren and Dallas, Nate’s two groomsmen and their wives.
I introduced Ryan to everyone and although he was quiet throughout most of dinner, he did chat with Dallas about tattoos and motorcycles for a while—apparently Dallas was in the market for a bike and Ryan was considering more ink. He also conversed with one of Nate’s friends about urban farming in Detroit. For a moment, I froze, praying I wouldn’t hear the words colony collapse disorder. Thankfully, the guy was more into vegetables than bees, and I experienced a secret thrill when I heard him ask Ryan how often he got to Detroit and the answer was, “Not too often in the past, but hopefully more in the future.”
Later, the band played Sinatra and I dragged him out on the dance floor, despite his protestations that he was not a dancer.
“I’m not either,” I said, “I just like this song.”
“I have no rhythm.” But he put an arm around my back and took my hand.
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “You have demonstrated excellent rhythm to me several times in the past.”
“That’s different.”
“It’s not. I don’t need fancy footwork. Just hold me really close and sway. I’ll be happy.”
He sighed. “I’ll do my best.”
A minute later, Grams and Roberto danced by. “Well, hello darlings!” she said. “Don’t you two look cozy.”
Roberto, an excellent dancer, turned Grams under his arm toward us. Before spinning back toward him, she leaned over and said, “You’re welcome.”
Then they were off again, leaving us to sway in place, a little awkwardly, a little out of time to the beat, but I didn’t care.
We had our own rhythm, and it was perfect.
Later, my mother and Phil drove Grams home so Ryan could stay and enjoy the reception with me. But it wasn’t long afterward that I began to get tired of being in a crowd. I loved the way people looked at us, with a mix of envy and curiosity, but I knew that being on display was not Ryan’s thing. After cake and coffee spiked with a little whiskey, I leaned over to him. “Want to get out of here?”
“Say the word,” he said quietly. “I can’t wait to be alone with you.”
“Let’s do it.” We said goodnight to my family, and Emme gave me an extra long, hard hug.
“I’m so happy for you,” she whispered. “I have such a good feeling about you guys.”
“Me too. Have fun tonight.”
She let go of me and gave me a sly grin. “You too.” Then she turned to Ryan and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. “Thank you so much for coming,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Grams told him she needed an escort to a funeral,” I told them. “Can you believe that?”
“I’d say no, but I’ve met her.” Nate shook his head and glanced down at Emme. “It’s always the little ones you have to look out for.”
Emme gave him a dirty look and soft punch to the stomach. “Watch it, husband.”
Nate caught her in his arms from behind, locking her in his grasp. “Seriously, you’re a good man to agree to that,” he said to Ryan. “Any other guy I know would have found some reason to say no.”
I took Ryan’s hand. “He is a good man.”
Finally, we were alone in the guest cabin I had to myself for the weekend.
Ryan loosened his tie, but I’d stopped him there.
“Let me,” I whispered.
It was heady business, slipping a tie from around a man’s neck. A jacket from his shoulders. A belt from his pants. I unbuttoned his cuffs. His collar. The row down the front of his shirt. I lifted the hem of his undershirt and watched as he yanked it over his head from the back of his neck and tossed it aside.
At the sight of his bare chest, my stomach quivered, and I felt my core muscles clench. I ran my hands all over his skin. My lips. My tongue. I walked him backward toward the foot of the bed and attempted to push him onto it.
It was like trying to move a tank.
He laughed and wrapped me up in his arms. “My turn,” he said, his breath warm on my lips.
No one had ever done this before, undressed me so patiently and seductively. He turned me away from him and unzipped my dress, sliding the pull tab down slowly from the middle of my shoulder blades to my lower back. Brushing my hair aside, he put his lips at the nape of my neck and kissed his way down my spine, following the path of the dress’s opening. I shivered in anticipation.
Carefully, he guided the dress to my ankles and I stepped out. He draped the gown over a chair and faced me again. Naked except for my beige (of course) panties and nude (some things never change … at least they were designer) heels, I started to feel a little self-conscious.
He put me at ease immediately. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” he said, sweeping his hands down my arms.
I smiled. “You can’t even see me. It’s pitch dark in here.”
“I can see you. And you’ve never looked as beautiful to me as you do right now.” He moved closer, slipping his arms around my waist and pressing his warm, bare chest against my breasts. “Because you’re mine.”
I lifted my hands to his neck. “Yes, I am.”
He kissed me deeply, a kiss full of love and gratitude and possession and fire. “You changed my life,” he said, sweeping me off my feet and carrying me to the bed. “But you did it by letting me be who I already was.”
“You changed mine the same way,” I whispered as I watched him remove the rest of his clothes. As long as I lived, I would never grow tired of seeing him naked.
He pulled off my shoes and slid my underwear down my legs before stretching out above me. “I don’t know where we go from here, Stella Devine, but I know I don’t want to be without you.”
“You don’t have to be.” I hooked my legs over the backs of his thighs and took his face in my hands. “Ever again.”
Pressing my lips to his, I silently vowed to do everything in my power to be worthy of him. To be patient. Kind. Forgiving. To remember everything he’d gone through because he believed in honor. To know that no one held him to a higher standard than he held himself. To love him for exactly who he was and make him grateful that he could feel it.
Now and forever.
Forty-One
Epilogue
STELLA
“Can I peek yet?” I asked.
“No,” came Ryan’s firm reply. “You leave that blindfold where it is or else.”
I giggled. “But we’ve been driving forever. I’m dying to know where you’re taking me.”
“Tough.”
“Can I guess?”
“Go right ahead.”
“Corktown?” I ventured, naming one of our favorite Detroit neighborhoods for restaurants and bars.
“Nope.”
“SheWolf?” Ryan loved the grilled lamb ribs there and I adored the tagliatelle with lobster.
“Nope.”
“Greektown?” I guessed, picturing Monroe Avenue all lit up at night.
“Nope.”
I felt the truck accelerate, as if we were getting on the expressway. “You’re not going to drive clear up to Grams’s house, are you?”
He laughed. “Not a chance. I don’t miss that drive one bit.”
“Me neither.”
Ryan and I had kept things going long-distance for about five months, but the four-hour-drive had grown tedious every weekend. We’d taken turns making it, but since Ryan often had to be on hand for weddings at Cloverleigh, it was me making the drive most of the time. Finally, Ryan felt so bad that he offered to quit his job and move to Detroit to be closer to me. By then, he’d finished the work on his house, and his friend Mack was going to buy it. He needed more space since his three daughters were going to live with him full time. Grams, as you can imagine, was absolutely thrilled to have kids next door (not to mention a potentially single Marine to fix up, but she’d promised me she’d wait until he was officially divorced before she started matchmaking again).
