Kennedy
“Baby.”
Mmmm...
“Baby, we’re here.”
Damn, his voice is so hot, but why is he laughing?
“Baby, we’re in Paris. Wake up.” Graham’s voice stirs me awake, and he leans over me, effortlessly looking like a dream come true. His shirt rises, exposing his taut stomach. His abs dip all the way into the waist of his jeans.
“So, it wasn’t a dream? You’re actually taking me to Paris?” He glides his finger across my neck, and I replace his touch with my own. “The necklace?” He nods, proudly. I watch the bathroom door fling open. “Mile-high club?”
“That absolutely happened.” Graham rests his lips against my ear. “I slipped in and out of you, and you came at thirty-nine thousand feet.”
“Best honeymoon ever.” On my tiptoes, I rise to Graham’s height and kiss him.
“Okay, love birds, time to get off the plane.” The attendant who caught us “getting something out of my eye” shoos us towards the exit. Graham’s shoulders jolt from his amusement.
“Well, I suppose they didn’t believe us then, huh?”
“Shut up. We’re lucky we didn’t get dragged off the plane, Graham.” I smack him playfully on the back.
“It wasn’t me. You were the one who couldn’t wait to get off.”
My husband slips both our carry-ons over his shoulder. The muscles in his arms flex and bulge, the result of hard labor. I’ve spent many an afternoon on our back porch, watching him work around the yard to create my perfect oasis. We’ve agreed, no matter where Graham’s career takes us, we’ll always keep our Connecticut house. It’s our dream, the one that’s kept Graham close to me, even when I didn’t know it. He’d created this sanctuary with one thing in mind. Me. That isn’t something I’ll throw away.
The ride to the hotel is spent with my forehead against the cool window. Graham doesn’t say anything, insisting I relax. He knows me. From glass front shops, to restaurants and the couples on the outside terraces enjoying everything Paris has to offer. The detail in the railings on the balcony’s above us. I want to soak up the magic of this city. Every last fiber will be rooted into my mind before we go home.
“Here we are, Sir,” the taxi driver says.
Graham pays him, and the doorman rolls a cart over to load our luggage. A well-dressed man approaches us.
“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Black.” His smile is friendly as he greets us. “We are pleased to have you stay with us.”
As he speaks to Graham, I wander off, close enough to hear him, but far enough away to take in the details he’s skipping over. The gold on the vases matches perfectly to the gold detail in the ceiling. The delicate choice of paint colors and fabrics makes the vast lobby inviting. The purple velvet couches and crystal lamps make me feel important for simply stepping inside the hotel.
“Mrs. Black,” a soft voice says.
The bellhop stands a few paces away.
“Sorry.” The people in Paris better be prepared to hear my apologies. I’m sure I’ll be spellbound a lot.
“First time in Paris?” he asks. His accent is faint but present.
“How’d you guess?” I smile, knowing I have fresh eyes and the excitement a first timer has when witnessing everything this city has to offer.
“If you’ve been around as long as I have, you begin to notice and appreciate these things. You believe anything is possible”—he steps to me— “and I’m here to tell you, it’s true.”
“You, Robert, are quite the bellhop. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“You’re quite special as well, Mrs. Black. A true beauty.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, old man. Quit flirting with my wife.” Graham taps him on the shoulder, warning him off.
“You are very lucky, Mr. Black. Hold this one close.” He winks at me and drags his attention back to Graham.
“Wait a second.” I wave between them, confused. “You two know each other, don’t you?”
“Of course, we do, Ma’am.”
“Like I’d ever let someone talk to my wife like he’s writing her a love letter.” Graham’s eyebrow lifts, cautioning Robert with humor in his eyes. “You laid it on rather thick though, Robert.”
“Everything I said was true. Congratulations on suckering this pretty thing into marrying you. Twice.”
“How do you know each other?” I ask, curious about their easy rapport.
“Umm...” Robert’s hesitation echoes between us.
“It’s okay,” Graham reassures him. “Remember when I said I had to travel to sign contracts a few months back?”
“Yes?” I answer, stunned and a little unsure of where this is headed.
“I came to Paris, for the day.”
“You flew to Paris, for the day?”
“Well, actually, I was here for about five hours.”
“Please explain yourself.” I rest my fists on my hips.
“I knew I wanted to surprise you for our honeymoon. I wanted it to be special, and looking at brochures and pictures on websites wasn’t giving me what I needed.”
“You flew to Paris to check out the hotel because you wanted it to be perfect for me?”
“Everything I do is to make sure your life is perfect.”
At his words, my stomach quivers, not because he’ll never accomplish perfection, but because he already has.
“I love you.” I press my lips against his briefly and then slowly pull away, a huge grin on my face.
“Robert.” Graham’s voice is laced with determination. “Please take us to our room.” The whole time he speaks, he watches me, undressing me in his mind and imagining the things he wants to do to me once we are alone.
“Sure thing, Sir.” Robert pushes our luggage towards the elevator.
Graham runs the tip of his finger over my hand, circling my palm with a liquid-like softness. Goose bumps crawl over my skin, and I smile while facing forward, watching the numbers light up as we ascend to our floor.
Robert stands in front of us, strumming his fingers on the top of the gold cart, completely unaware of the way Graham is winding me tight from a single touch.
The elevator stops, and Robert escorts us to our room. Graham and I stare at each other as he explains the different amenities.
“Robert, no offense, but we don’t care,” I blurt. Graham shrugs when Robert turns to him.
“She’s right.” Graham reaches into his pocket and pulls out one hundred euros. “I will give this to you if you stop talking and leave us alone.”
“Have a nice time here in Paris, Mr. and Mrs. Black,” Robert says, snatching the money from Graham’s outstretched hand.
The hotel room door slams shut, and I fling myself around Graham’s body. My fingernails dig into his back, and my legs hug tightly around his waist. A shiver of excitement runs through me when he grabs my hips to hold me in place. He pulls back a fraction, and I bite my lip, aroused by the heat in his eyes.
“Didn’t get enough of me on the airplane?” Graham’s thumb tugs my lip from the vice-hold of my teeth, and he replaces mine with his. They’re sharp, biting into the tender skin, and I yelp at the delicious pinch of pain.
“Take me to bed.” At my demand, Graham walks us to the edge of the mattress and throws me down.
I grip the hem of his shirt to drag him down with me, but he escapes my grasp and starts toying around with our luggage.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I prop up on my elbows and gawk at him. “Get over here.”
He looks up from his suitcase, a devilish grin on those luscious lips. “Let’s change clothes and go grab some food.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I sit up and rush to the window, throwing the curtains open. “Do you see that?”
“It’s the Eiffel Tower.”
Does he have to be so nonchalant? It’s the damn Eiffel Tower.
“And I don’t know about you, but I’d love to get fucked while looking at that.”
His eyebrow perks up. Smugness moves through him like waves on the shore. “I don’t think I’m really doing my best work if you want to stare out the window the whole time.”
I huff and pout and stomp around, a mini tantrum bubbling at the surface.
He tosses a dressy shirt on the desk. “I hear it’s beautiful at night.”
“Are you seriously going to deprive me of one of my primal necessities?” I climb on the bed and crawl towards the front.
Graham peels off his t-shirt. His skin is golden from long days on the field.
I could have him undressed in two seconds flat. At the thought, I scurry from the bed and run my hands over his shoulders and onto his chest.
“You’ll survive a few more hours. I promise.” He traps my wrists, stopping my attack.
“You can’t be real,” I mutter, pressing my chest to his bare skin, forcing him to release his hold. Works every time. “The training is starting to pay off.” Of their own accord, my fingertips graze up and down his stomach. The muscles quiver, and I smile. He’ll be giving in any second now.
“Starting to pay off?” His eyebrow raises. “Baby, I’ve always looked like this.”
“In high school, you were in great shape. You were toned and tight.” I dip low and trail kisses down the pec over his heart. “Now though, you’re in a whole different league. You’re bigger, stronger, and more confident. It’s extremely sexy.” My lips land close to the waistband of his Calvins.
“I know what you’re doing, sweetheart. You’ve done it for many years now, and I will not be distracted by your lips.”
“Are you sure about that, Graham? I can be awfully persuasive if you allow me to be.” I gaze up at him, my fingers circling the back of his pants and dipping into the waistband of his briefs.
“Trust me, you’ve done me in on many occasions, but this time it won’t work.” He unhooks my arms from around him, picking me up, and I growl as I hit the mattress. “You better get dressed, or else we’ll be late.”
“Late? Late for what?” I can’t hide the thrilled tone in my voice.
“I figured a surprise would gain your attention.” He changes into a nice pair of dark denim jeans and a black, button-up dress shirt. I check the corners of my lips for drool. “And just so you know, it isn’t a surprise if you know it’s coming, but since you can’t keep your dirty girl fingers off me, you ruined it.”
“Maybe you should allow yourself to gain some happy marriage weight, then I’d be able to keep my horny paws off you.” I trudge over to my suitcase and slip into a pair of black capris, a white flowy blouse, and snatch my black pumps off the floor.
Graham takes them from me and pushes me back onto the bed. His touch grazes the length of my thigh, down my calf, and ends up circling my ankle. He guides my foot, sliding it into the left pump, securing the strap around my ankle. He picks up the right shoe and does the same routine, never dropping his eyes from mine. Once both shoes are in place, he runs his fingers up the back of my knees until he’s stuck between my legs. Our breathing is heavy, full of want, and the second I push forward to give us both what we need, he pulls back. My bottom lip skims over his.
“We’ll be late.” His heated breath hits my skin, and I sigh.
“Fine.” I push on his chest and stand. “But you owe me two orgasms.”
“Is that so?” He grips my hips, guiding me out of our bedroom. He passes me my clutch with a grin, knowing he’s on top of his game. The elevator door opens as if it’s expecting us.
“I plan on coming for payment later.” As I say the words, my body is swung around, and I’m swooped up by the back of my thighs and pressed against the elevator wall. A streak of pain bites my spine, but it’s the kind of pain I’m willing to endure when Graham has his hands all over my body.
A tangle of limbs, determination, and pure fucking love, Graham’s mouth devours mine. His tongue skates across the seam of my lips, and I fully, willfully open to him. A bulge presses into my middle, and I groan with satisfaction.
“Have I ever not paid a debt?” His hips grind into mine, and my middle clenches from one single movement.
“You have a lot of work cut out for you.” His biceps flex under my fingertips.
He lowers me until my feet hit the tiled bottom on the elevator car. With one hand on each side of my head, Graham surrounds me, his lips resting on my ear. “Your body is a roadmap I’ve studied. I know every last curve. I’ve explored every road. If you don’t think I can turn you inside out in a second flat, Baby, you’d be dead wrong.”
The elevator dings, and the doors inch open. Over his shoulder, Graham watches me, amused at how bewildered I am by what he can do to my body with just his words.
“Fuck me,” I mutter under my breath, exhausted from his verbal ambush. I push off the back wall as other hotel guests enter.
Graham’s arm wraps around my waist, bringing me tight against his side. “Trust me. I intend to.”
We walk through the streets most of the afternoon, stopping in little shops and experiencing everything the city allows. People are friendly but distant, something I’d expected.
“Excusez-moi?” Graham says to a young lady sitting on a bench.
She fumbles her book and startles. When she finally glances up, a twinkle forms in her eyes, and she smiles up at my husband.
Shocker. Even French woman find him irresistible.
“Quelque part à manger?” Graham holds an invisible spoon and plate to his face and pretends to eat.
What’s happening right now? Who is this man in front of me?
The young lady stands, tucking her book into her bag. Her eyelashes flutter, and she points down the street, happy to assist him.
“Septime,” she whispers.
“Je vous remercie.” Graham nods, smiling in appreciation.
Instead of worrying over the poor French-speaking version of my husband, I’m far more concerned with getting food in my stomach. We shift in and out of the crowds. The smell of fresh baked croissants has my stomach growling and my mouth watering for a large glass of wine right about now.
The hostess greets us as we step inside the cozy restaurant.
“Right this way,” she says, smiling through her broken English.
Our window table is in the perfect position to watch people as they come and go. The quiet atmosphere is comfortable, the perfect place for a quick meal and a breath of fresh air.
“This place has the best view,” Graham says, tugging my attention back to him. He isn’t studying the bustle of the city or the colorful awnings over the shops along the street. His attention is on me.
“You’re sweet.” I reach across the table and weave our fingers together. “Now, please explain when you learned really poor French?”
As the waiter greets us, Graham chuckles, ordering us both a glass of Pinot. He drapes his white cloth napkin over his lap and reclines in his chair.
“I’ve been listening to French while I run.” He shrugs as if another grand gesture isn’t a big deal at this point. “And I have to admit, my French isn’t that bad.”
The waiter sets long-stemmed glasses in front of us and takes our order, leaving us to enjoy a few sips.
“To my wife. It’s because of you I know what it means to never wake up from a dream.”
“You’re the closest thing to perfection, Graham Black. If I could bottle you, I’d make a fortune.” I set my glass down and rest my forearms on the table. Graham reaches for my hands, caressing the length of my thumbs. I love how he’s never afraid to touch me, even in public.
“I’m perfect because you’re by my side. You’ve never given up on me, and I wouldn’t be where I am without you, Ken. That much I am damn sure of.” His lips graze the skin on the back of my hand.
After the waiter returns with our food, we fall into effortless conversation. No topic is off limits. It’s why our relationship has always worked. Communication has never been our problem. We always answer honestly, and keep an open line between us, even when we don’t want to hear the answers.
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask when the topic of his baseball schedule comes up. I hate to even mention it, but it’s all I can think about these days.
Even in the city of love, my mind is with our family’s wellbeing.
“I need to know where your head is at. If you aren’t one hundred percent, then we won’t be jumping. You’re the glue in this, Baby.” Graham watches me, knowing I’ll hold my cards as close to my chest as possible. I don’t want him to see me rattled. “How will it affect Ben?” he asks, expecting me to have the answer I don’t have.
“He’s resilient. That much we know. A new adventure won’t kill him.” I break off a piece of croissant and pop it in my mouth. The buttery flake melts on my tongue.
“But to leave our home right in the middle of his adjustment doesn’t seem fair.” Graham knows those are my exact thoughts. Ben still has moments when he’s unsure of his place with us.
“And then, on the flip side, being away from you seems like cruel and unusual punishment.” Devil’s advocate is a pain in my ass. At this rate, we won’t get anywhere. We’re both stubborn enough not to voice what we truly want in fear of disrupting the other.
The stress of our upcoming decisions weighs heavy on me. My entire life is wrapped up in Graham and Ben. I don’t want to make the wrong choice. Every part of our family needs to work at maximum capacity, or else, we’ll fail.
“You and Ben can always visit on the weekends. If it’s not too far.”
“It’s not the same, but this is our reality.” I thumb a tear from my cheek. “This is your dream, and you’ve made plenty of sacrifices for me.”
“We’ve both made sacrifices,” Graham corrects.
“What is it you want to do?” I cross my fingers under the table, hoping he can read my mind and understand what I need.
“Love you fiercely.” Graham’s lips part, and I find myself leaning across to kiss him. Our hands cross the table until mine is covered with his. The soft combination of violin and piano embodies us in their song, and he tickles my skin with his thumbs.
“You’re a boy who has always had the world at his fingertips. I never quite understood why you yearned for me to be at the end of them.”
He tilts his head to the side in the cute way that causes my palms to sweat. His jaw ticks as he holds back his smile.
Lost in his stare, I almost miss the waiter leaving our bill on the edge of the table. My shoulders slink down, not ready to break this moment of our own silence together. Our love is so strong in the quiet moments that sometimes it feels unreal, like at any minute a gust of wind could glide past me, stealing the small sliver of heaven I’m awarded by simply sitting across from him.
After paying the bill, we step out onto the beautiful Paris street. Graham refuses to go back to the hotel before the sun sets, no matter how hard I beg for the comfort of our bed. We walk around aimlessly with no direction or idea where we are headed. I don’t mind, though. Graham and I haven’t been alone in a long while. To be just us again, it’s a much-needed way to recharge our batteries.
“My feet hurt.” I hop on one foot, adjusting my shoes. “This is why I should’ve packed my flats, but who wants to walk around Paris in boring shoes? I’m going to have blisters.”
“Are you done rambling?” Graham says, bending down to pull me from my rant. “Because if you are, then maybe you’d like to take a look.”
His fingers rest gently under my chin and guide my head to the right. At the sight, every complaint I have dissipates into nothing. I could be walking on glass, and it wouldn’t matter as long as I get to witness the Eiffel Tower at night. The lights twinkle like stars begging to be wished upon. With my eyelids clenched shut, I do just that. I wish for certainty in life, the one thing we want but are never promised.
“You’ve been making my dreams come true for a long time now, Graham. This is going to be a tough one to top.”
“I will never stop trying to top it, Ken.”