January 2015
Thousands of snowflakes danced in the air, softly falling all around me. Very carefully I walked up the pathway, the snow crunching beneath my feet. When I was finally on the porch I took a deep breath and stomped the snow off my shoes. I leaned heavily against the door as I searched for the house key.
Then the door opened and I was yanked inside and pulled flush against Sinclair. I felt every ridge of muscle. The smell of his cologne was all around me. His warm breath caressed my neck.
His lips slammed against mine. The tension eased from my body, and my hands hung limply at my sides. There was an exigency to this kiss. It was frantic and scared. Every slant of his lips, intake of breath, the way his tongue glided against mine revealed that he didn’t want to take a single moment for granted.
Every move he made, I mirrored. We were in perfect harmony.
My fingers gripped him tighter, pulling him closer. Kissing him should be enough. Being in his arms should be enough. But for me it wasn’t and I didn’t know if it ever would be.
So I held him tighter and he kissed me deeper. His hands moved up my body, skimming my ribs, brushing against my bra before they stopped at my neck.
Sinclair pulled away.
“Hi.” His voice was deep and sensuous. It pulled at me, drew me closer, as if an invisible noose were around my neck.
“I need you,” I said against his lips.
He hesitated for just a second. His forehead rested against mine. Neither one of us moved. My breathing increased. I forgot what desire could do to you. It felt like a fire was lit inside me. Flames licked beneath my skin, making me tingle everywhere.
He chuckled and the sound scraped against my skin. It spurred me on and made my body tremble.
“Did you miss me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Behind me was the hallway leading to his bedroom, but it was too far away for me. I think Sinclair felt the same; he guided us toward the couch, sitting down first and pulling me down so I was straddling his lap.
He was under me. This strong man was under me and all mine. It sent a thrill down my spine; it was almost more than I could take.
I tried to make quick work of his clothes but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Sinclair reached out and turned off the lamp. Instantly, we were bathed in darkness. I liked it this way; it made us rely solely on touch and words. Those two things make you work harder but the end result, the way it makes your body come alive, is worth it.
My coat dropped to the floor and my clothes quickly followed. I kicked off my shoes. They hit the floor with a loud thump.
His fingers curved around my hips. My palms slid over his shoulders, down over his back. I memorized every muscle, the feel of his warm, smooth skin. I kissed the side of his neck and gently bit down.
“Slow down,” he whispered gruffly into my ear.
“I’m trying,” I panted.
I really was. But my body ignored my pleas and took control until there was nothing but frantic touches and kisses. It should be dangerous to feel this way, but it wasn’t. It was intoxicating. There was power in shutting down your mind and letting your body take control.
Sinclair’s hips lifted from the couch long enough for me to tug his pants down. With a whisper-soft touch, my fingers drifted down his body. Muscle after well-defined muscle. Sinclair groaned when I reach his boxers. I glanced at him from beneath my lashes and smirked. My fingers hooked around the edges. He took in a sharp breath. I was so close to where I wanted to be. I could reach down just a few inches and wrap my hand around him. I resisted the urge.
I could feel his gaze. The intensity coming from him was enough to make me squirm on his lap.
“Don’t do that,” he warned. His hands were splayed against my skin, gripping me possessively. He exhaled harshly. “You’re not making this easy.”
“When has anything ever been easy between us?” I whispered.
His fingers dragged through my hair. He held my face immobile. “I want to make this last as long as possible.” His hands loosened and drifted down my neck. His touch was like a feather skimming very gently over my body. “I want this just as bad as you,” he rasped.
His hands reached behind me and deftly unhooked my bra. The two flimsy straps that held it up slid down my arms. The material was dangerously low, almost exposing my breasts. At the thought of that my back arched. My bra dropped between us. I made quick work of shedding my underwear.
He dipped his head. I smiled wickedly as he kissed the skin above my belly button, moving up, up, up until he reached the path between my breasts.
“I love these freckles,” he whispered against my chest.
“Yeah?” I whispered back.
When he nodded, his lips brushed against my skin and I had to stop myself from groaning.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move because his touch set me aflame.
He knew my body like the back of his hand.
He cupped my breasts. They filled his hands and it was as though I was made for him. And maybe I was. Maybe everyone has someone in the world who fits them perfectly, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.
I felt his lips wrap around my nipple. When his tongue flicked against the very tip, I groaned. Gently he caressed it as he kissed me. Every second was torture and complete bliss—the best kind of buildup.
Our bodies intimately touched and instantly I became wet. Sinclair wanted to make this last. I couldn’t though.
“Now,” I whispered. “Right now.”
I leaned down and kissed him with all the passion and lust I had for him. Sinclair’s arms banded around my waist. He sat up and my body was intimately pressed against him. The very tip of him rubbed against the most sensitive part of me. I gasped into his mouth and moved against him. He caught my hips. This was torture.
“I’m not ready,” Sinclair all but growled.
“I am.”
Sinclair smirked.
He didn’t force.
He didn’t hurt.
He never dominated.
He let me take control, all the while knowing that just one brush of his hands and I was his. Sinclair lifted me up until I was on my knees and positioned me above him.
There was a single pause where it was just the sound of our heavy breathing.
When he slid into me it was with confidence and power.
He was as deep as he could get. I felt nothing but him, pulsating inside me. He held my body captive. He growled into my ear, causing thousands of goosebumps across my skin. He knew how to move. How to move his hips. When to speed up and slow down.
Every single turn and lift of my body brought more pleasure. Beneath me, Sinclair was barely in control. I loved him naked, bared before me, and all mine. My hands glided up his stomach. His muscles jumped in reaction and I smiled. I watched in fascination as his hips bucked upward, every time I moved.
“Fuck, Victoria,” Sinclair said through clenched teeth.
Sex with him was just like his kisses. The faster he moved the faster my sanity vanished, until all I could think about was him.
My head tilted back. My eyes closed. Every muscle in my body strained. My hands gripped the back of the couch as we moved in unison.
“I love you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
This was the kind of love that I could stretch my arms wide and never feel constricted in. I could take a deep breath and the air would never be stale.
I could live in this love.
Then I let go and screamed so loudly, my throat ached.
Sinclair’s forehead rested against my breast as he surged into me one final time. A groan tore from his throat. I really didn’t think there was anything better than watching a man lose control and knowing that you caused him to reach that point.
Sinclair sucked in a deep breath and opened one eye, then gave me a smirk. Sweat dripped down our bodies, mingling together to create a scent that only we could know.
After a few seconds of nothing but panting he told me I was the only woman who could bring him to his knees, but to me it was the other way around.
Touched.
Burned.
Branded.
This man owned me.
As if he could sense my thoughts, Sinclair lifted his head and looked me straight in the eyes. He cupped my face with his rough hands.
“I’d risk anything for you,” he said.
I believed him.
Later on, after we had showered and changed and were lying in bed, Sinclair and I went through baby names. I was only four months along. It was too soon to tell what I was having, but I was almost certain it was a girl. It was a feeling in my gut. Sinclair was convinced it was a boy.
The TV was on, emitting its glow across our faces. Time didn’t exist when we were together. It loomed outside the door, waiting to latch back on to us. But here we were free from it and everything else that haunted us in our real life.
These moments were the only thing keeping me sane. The divorce was moving along at a snail’s pace, so slow that sometimes I wished I had just run away with Sinclair and started over somewhere else. I was convinced it would’ve been easier.
I turned the page of the book and scanned the baby girl names starting with E. “I like Evelyn,” I said.
Sinclair lifted a brow.
“You don’t like it?”
“I gotta think about it.”
I rubbed my belly. “We could call her Evie.”
“You could,” Sinclair said agreeably. He rolled onto his back. With his hands laced behind his head he stared up at the ceiling, looking deep in thought.
For the past few days we’d been going over names. Back and forth we would fire off names, like it was a game. I hadn’t settled on anything yet. Nothing had really stood out to me. I figured I’d know when I heard the right name. Everything would just click.
I had gone back to looking through names when out of nowhere Sinclair shouted, “Evelyn Montgomery!”
My baby book flew in the air and I just about fell out of the bed. “What the hell was that?”
“I was testing out the name.”
“For what?”
“At one point, we’re going to shout out our child’s name. So we need to find one that works that way.”
I blinked and stared at him as if he had grown three heads.
“Do it,” he urged.
“You’re kidding.”
“Completely serious. Try it.”
I lay back and stared up at the ceiling. I pointedly ignored Sinclair but I felt his eyes on me. “Stop smiling,” I said. “You’re making me feel ridiculous.”
He covered his eyes. “Fine. I won’t look at you.”
I smiled and took a deep breath and shouted out her name.
Sinclair dropped his hands. He quirked a brow and gave me a look that said: Well? What do you think?
“I like it. Fits perfectly. But we’ll never yell at her.”
“Something tells me that there are millions of parents before us who have made the same declaration,” he said.
“What makes you so sure it’s a girl?” Sinclair asked a moment later.
“I can just tell. The kicks she gives me are powerful. She’s a female who wants to make her presence known.”
“But if it’s a boy…”
“It’s not.”
“Humor me for a second, V. If it’s a boy, what names do you like?”
Sinclair didn’t want to know the sex of the baby. He said he wanted to be surprised. I, on the other hand, wanted to know. I had to know. During the last sonogram, the doctor had said that they couldn’t get a clear view to see if it was a boy or girl, but she predicted girl.
“Well?” he prodded.
I sat up and closed my baby book. “I like Peter.”
“Peter?”
I nodded. “Please don’t shout out the name.”
“We’ve had enough name shouting for tonight. I’ll wait for another time.”
“Good.” I traced the letters on the front cover. “So…do you like Peter?”
Sinclair was quiet for a moment. “I do. It fits.” He reached out and wrapped a hand around my arm and yanked me to him. He nipped at my finger, making me jump slightly. “I love you. Your name is written on my heart, you know that?” he said into my hair.
“Yeah?”
He nodded.
I reached out and traced a V against his chest. He stayed perfectly still. His hands braced against my head. I slowly wrote my name out. I crossed the t and dotted every i with precision.
I could see my name. It was perfect and it had never looked better. I leaned in and sealed it with a kiss. His eyes became half-masked.
“Sometimes you scare me,” he said.
“Why’s that?”
“Too much power. You’re a dangerous woman.”
“There’s nothing dangerous about me.”
“Of course there is. You made me fall deeply in love with you. All the power is yours.”
“I love you,” I whispered.
And I meant it. Every single word.
I kissed him. Not sweetly, but deep. It was so intense that I could feel a piece of myself being given to him. Millions of heartbeats in this world and I knew someone could hear mine. I knew that I was heard.
I had finally found a love that involved no pain and there was nothing in the world that would take this from me.
I settled back against him, my head against his chest so I could hear the steady beat of his heart. In these quiet times came peace, but sometimes I felt a fear. Fear that we came together at the most unexpected time. For all we knew we could be cursed from the beginning and never even know it.
I didn’t want to imagine a life without Sinclair.
“Do you think we’ll survive this?” I asked.
“Of course we will.” He rubbed my arm. “Never, ever question us.”
How could I explain to Sinclair that it wasn’t him I feared? It was what Wes was capable of.
Minutes later Sinclair turned off the TV and the lights. We settled in for the night. I was close to falling asleep when Sinclair whispered into my ear, “If you ever worry about us you just have to press your palm to your chest and feel your heartbeat. For as long as you still have a beating heart, you have my love.”
I laid my palm against my heart. He placed his hand over mine.
“Heartbeat?” he asked.
“Heartbeat,” I whispered back.