Chapter Fifteen
Caldwell
Having Daphne in my arms again cemented the deal for me and I was not about to let her back out—I would negotiate with her. She could have everything she wanted—exclusives on my showings, any kind of improvements or furnishings to the house…or if she wanted a different house. I just wanted her and a life with her…and our child.
I loved her little bump. It was barely there but I knew what lurked beneath. I couldn’t stop myself from sinking to my knees and kissing her belly while whispering faintly so Daphne couldn’t hear me. “I’m your daddy. I love you already.” I was a sappy fool, but who wasn’t at one time or another.
I have to say that I was seeing Daphne in a different way; she was even more precious to me. Needing her to know that, I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to the bed we had been sharing. I loved the fact that I had bought the bed for her and even better, I loved that it had only been used by us.
Gently settling in the middle so I could easily curl my body against hers, I kissed her slowly, deeply, making sure she felt loved…wanted…needed…mine…all mine forever. My hand roamed reaching out to skim every bare part of her skin. “Too many clothes.” I heard her pant when I allowed her to take a breath. Reluctantly, leaning away from her, I removed my shirt and encouraged her to do the same—she moved with swiftness to discard everything. I grinned and attacked her with my mouth and hands. She was like a fine piece of art to be appreciated from head to toe.
I missed her so much and had no intention to rush…to hurry toward the grand finale. I wanted to last—instead of going off like a pubescent teen boy—so that I could please Daphne. I was just so happy to be wrapped up in her arms. I sensed a hint or two of frustration as I licked tender spots on her body as she, without words, shifted or nudged me. I grinned against the warmth of her flesh and continued to slowly build a need within her until she whimpered some words that sounded like begging.
Alternating attention to each of her firm nipples with my mouth, I moved my hand straight down the middle of her torso. Arching her back and wiggling her hips, I skimmed a little faster to reach her pleasure spot. She seemed to like that and relaxed right into the mattress with a moan as I circled, strummed, and lightly pinched. “Yessss…” I’m pretty sure that I echoed her as she quickly came undone and clinched my fingers that had slid inside of her.
“Yessss…” I maintained the right amount of pressure using the heel of my hand precisely where it needed to be to throw her over the edge and have her begging for more.
Watching her beautifully basking in an afterglow, I moved to discard the rest of my clothing. I was the one craving more—painfully dealing with a raging hard-on that had me wanting to drive into her full force for relief. Although, as crazy as I felt, I still refused to rush. I wanted to feel every sensation and wreak havoc on her nervous system—to overload it with pleasure. That wasn’t an easy task as I inched inside her warmth. She was so fucking wet…sopping and tight…pure heaven.
“Sooo good, Daphne.”
I slipped in and out, hesitating and watching her looking up at me and then swiftly moving all the way in, to still again. Repeating this movement a few times over and over the intensity between us built until I couldn’t take it anymore. I was certain that she was relieved when I really started moving—slamming into her with force.
“Thank God. Not a porcelain doll. Harder. Yes. Oh. Oh. Oh.”
Yes, I was sure that I was giving her what she wanted. I didn’t stop until I felt her tighten and spasm around me—my cue to let go with my own release. I swear that it was the best one I had ever had…or maybe not, but it was fucking phenomenal.
Holding Daphne’s body against mine afterwards was equally mind-blowing. “I missed you,” I whispered clutching onto her—perfectly molded together, her smooth back against my hard front—like I would lose her otherwise. “Never letting go.”
“I was missing you at first too and then it gave way to anger when that damn decor magazine contacted me for an article about my house. The mention of your name had me wanting to scream—”
I cut her off. “—you still missed me.” I was either brave or completely stupid with those words. Thankfully, she didn’t move away and just shook her head before twisting in my arms to look at me. What a gorgeous sight!
“I think you should do the interview for the magazine…they come next week.” Pushing away a tad, she lifted her arm and used her hand to gesture the words in her next sentence, “My Exclusive—so they know you’re not for hire—Project. Or I like My Special Project.”
“You were my special project. It was all to get the girl…the ultimate goal…the prize.”
“See you have to do it! You will have every woman swooning across the nation…around the globe. And even better, you can mention your gallery… Oh my God! You could put a Ford James sculpture on my back garden patio area!”
“Next you’ll want a Renaldo painting in the house.”
“Hmmm.” She looked adorable with her beautiful blue eyes, flecked with green, glancing up while she tapped her chin with one of her fingers. “Maybe for the photo shoot… I’m certain I couldn’t afford one but maybe a sculpture. They have to be okay for the outdoors since they are made from cars…the paint has to be durable…able to weather the elements. And besides, you might owe me after the name calling and avoiding me for weeks…”
I laughed as she tried to convince me and I avoided the last part. “You’re right.” She could take that answer to mean a lot of things and then I quickly moved on to add, “They are perfect for outdoors and you can see for yourself tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She shifted to look at me.
“I’m taking you on our first official date.”
My friend Harrison is part of a historical society for old homes in LA County and they often do different fundraisers. The one I planned to take Daphne to, was right up her alley—Hollywood Glam. It featured homes built in the late thirties to mid-forties and similar to her house. A fun feature of the event was that character actors dressed in period clothes were to be present in each home and a couple of them had musicians playing hits from that time period. Had Daphne’s house been completed sooner, I was sure that Harrison would’ve asked her to open it up to the public—instead a home decor magazine got the honor of photographing it.
I figured she’d like the idea of spending a day in the past and was thrilled when she thanked me profusely before even seeing what it was all about. Of course, I didn’t complain as I had no problem going with the flow. A perfect current between us that went from slow and steady to wild rapids. We only left the bedroom for a dinner break and to raid the fridge in the middle of the night on a quest for frozen Parisian macarons and pistachio almond gelato.
Waking the next morning from a sugary sweet and lust-filled coma, we showered together and dressed in comfortable clothes before I made us breakfast.
“I’ll just have coffee and a slice of cake…or did we eat that too?”
“A sensible breakfast is what you need and no coffee.” I spoke with authority in my voice, knowing that she was feeding my child.
“Relax! I have some instant decaf coffee and I will be drinking it with fat-leaded half and half.” She huffed after telling me what she planned to do. “But, I will agree to a good breakfast if it includes bacon…assuming we have any. Aubree shopped for me a few days ago…damn, I am really going to miss her.” I loved to listen to Daphne chatting away.
I was glad she didn’t fight me on the no high-heeled shoes thing. Then again, it could’ve been that it said no heels on the invitation. She did try to talk me into heading to her favorite thrift store to buy some vintage clothing since she needed to drop clothes anyway. Luckily, I talked her out of it. Not that I was opposed to wearing used clothing, I just liked to wash them myself before wearing them—even if the vintage shop washed them prior to selling them. In fact, I have some great stuff from the same one Daphne liked and I did tell her we could stop by there after touring homes.
And I may have had my own reason for wanting to stop in.