Chapter 51
Carla
I felt the hitch in my throat and the flutter in my stomach, riding him slow and soft as the sunlight kissed his face and caressed his fluttering eyelids. I could feel him close, hot, wet and hard deep inside me, the sound of our lust slippery and wet as my heart pounded and soft, muttering moans bled from our lips.
“Oh,” he blurted, just before he came hard, hot and wet inside, my body tingled with desire as I sank lower onto him and ground myself against his hot, hard skin. I came slowly, and loudly, writhing and digging my fingers in his shoulders, glad to finally exhale, to climax, to squeal and scream and not wake anybody up.
Afterward, panting and sweating, we sank off each other and back, loosely, into our clothes. He reached for the champagne and, finding it empty, rose in jeans and no shirt, bare feet padding across the floor tile. “There’s more,” he said, opening the fridge.
“Aren’t you prepared?” I asked, my body aglow with ecstasy. My heart hammered with excitement and anticipation.
He murmured, or chuckled, it was hard to tell with all the blood rushing through my ears. Either way he appeared, with champagne and indeed more… chocolate covered strawberries, cheese, sausage and crackers, an entire smorgasbord on a deli tray. “What’s all this?”
“A celebration,” he said, popping the cork and filling two plastic glasses for a toast.
“To what?”
“To this place,” he said, waving his glass before handing me mine. “That is, if you want it.”
I sat up, nearly spilling my champagne. “But I thought… Spencer was…”
“I fired Spencer,” he said, standing and pacing nervously. “A week ago. I thought… he was the reason we were fighting.”
I smirked, about to correct him before realizing he was right. Well, half right anyway. “It wasn’t Spencer,” I confessed. “It was me. And you. And us, and our situation, and everything all at once.”
He nodded, saving me the full confession. “I thought you got cold feet,” he said. “Like… me.”
I blushed. “I did,” I squealed, like a silly high school girl realizing she and her beau had the same taste in music. “I was afraid I’d ruined your life, and mine, and ours, coming down here and doing all… this.”
He sank back down next to me, taking my face in both hands and shaking both our heads. “No, Carla, never,” he murmured, kissing my face gently before taking his hands away. “My life has never been better, it’s just… the circumstances that drive us crazy. Your schedule, my schedule, both of us doing new things, out of our element, trying to pretend like it’s okay when it’s… it’s not.”
I shook my head, and then nodded, reaching for the champagne and toasting his glass too hard and spilling it on his chest. We laughed, sipping loudly and attacking the platter with gusto. I’d been so nervous and tense all week, I’d hardly eaten, the savory and sweet treats were the perfect welcome back to solid food!
Afterward, we brought the champagne onto the balcony, the sound of the waves was the soothing balm that it always had been, the sight of the river even more so. For me, at least. “Is this… what you want?” I asked. “I want it if you do,” he said, nodding toward a file folder on the patio table, held down with a seagull statue—in honor, I suppose, of the river that could potentially be our view. “It’s ours if you want it.”
“For real?” I asked, sounding all of twelve.
“Lock, stock and barrel,” he said, ignoring the file and turning back to the view—of me, that is. “Twenty grand below budget, completely furnished, priced to sell, motivated buyer, the whole deal. I’ve already, well… I hope you’re not mad.”
“At what?” I asked, sliding my arm inside his.
“I put a deposit down and, if you’re up for it, we can close soon.”
He seemed to be holding his breath, his puffy cheeks making him look ten years younger—and twice as adorable. I slapped him, playfully, and kissed him, soulfully. “How soon?” I purred, the sun sultry on my skin, the future bright and already feeling the urge to wriggle out of my sundress and take him right where he stood—new neighbors be damned.
“Tomorrow morning, if you want,” he said, sounding slightly surprised. “I mean, Spencer said we could have the keys until then, so I don’t see why, when he comes to return them, we can’t set something up.”
I sipped the last of my champagne and, pulling him closer, scanned the horizon. In the corner where we stood, the river to our back, the ocean to our front, there were no other condos as far as the eye could see. I gave into temptation and slid each spaghetti strap down, watching him get the hint as he helped me disrobe, pausing to tenderly caress my breasts even as I urged to tug down his zipper.
“I wonder how many rooms we can do it in before morning,” I challenged him, breathlessly, both of us cracking up at the notion. It felt so good to laugh again, to hear him laugh, that it was almost—almost—as good as the sex we’d just had, and were about to have.
He nibbled my ear, playfully, as I stepped out of my dress again and he did the same from his jeans. “Well, it’s a two bedroom, so… we should be fine.”
We should be fine, he’d said. And as I melted into his arms, the salt spray on our sweaty bodies, the sun on my back, I thought no truer words had ever be spoken. Suddenly, in Kellan’s arms, in this place, I knew we’d be fine. More than fine, we’d be together, and that sure as hell beat being apart…