London
“In all the fairy tales, there’s the happily ever after—the pivotal moment that every little girl dreams of reaching. Yet it’s this, right here—the life after the happily ever after—that’s the true gift.”
—London Berkeley
A cloud of steam rushes out before me as soon as I open the bathroom door. The cool air of the hotel room feels incredible against my heated skin, now a light pink from the hot shower.
My eyes are immediately drawn to Loïc sitting up against the headboard of the large king-size bed in nothing but his fitted boxers. I stop in my tracks, pulling in a deep breath, as I take in the handsome man who is my husband. We’ve been married for just over a year now, and he continues to steal my breath simply by existing.
He hasn’t put on his prosthetic leg yet, and that only adds to his level of appeal. Loïc is so much more than physical beauty, and his missing limb reminds me of that. He’s a fighter, a mighty warrior, and he’s mine.
He’s yet to notice me standing here, in my towel, ogling him. His brows furrow as he stares at his phone, and I know he must be reading military-related news. He always has the same equally thoughtful and concerned expression when he receives information pertaining to soldiers.
“Is everything all right?” I ask as I make my way toward him.
Loïc’s gorgeous blues find me and widen. A smooth, sexy smile graces his face. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Whatcha reading about?” I ask as I plop down on the bed beside him.
His attention drops to his phone before quickly returning to me. His grin falls. “A helicopter was shot down over the mountains, not even a mile from Bagram.”
“Oh no!” I reach my hand out and cover his.
I hate hearing about the tragedies that still take place in Afghanistan. Every time I hear an upsetting story about the soldiers who currently serve overseas, it brings me right back to Loïc’s deployment. Technically, he’s been safe from enemy fire for three years now, yet in the same breath, he fights to overcome that deadly blast each and every day. That grenade continues to detonate again and again in Loïc’s mind. He’ll forever be fighting to survive its devastation.
Part of me wishes he weren’t still so involved in military events because every piece of bad news rips open old wounds. Ironically though, his commitment to the military, to the men and women who’ve fought in the armed forces, has allowed him to heal. I understand that, but it’s still hard.
“Did anyone die?”
“They’re looking for the wreckage, but chances are, all sixteen soldiers aboard that chopper are gone,” he says solemnly.
I sigh. “Ugh, that sucks. So much.”
“Yeah,” he responds.
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
There aren’t any words that can make these things better. I’ve learned that Loïc has to work through difficult times on his own. Nothing I say can make it right. Honestly, there’s a lot of stuff wrong with the whole situation, and I feel helpless to change it. Loïc has told me time and time again that me just being here for him, loving him, is all the support he needs.
So, that’s what I do. I love him.
I scoot back against the headboard of the bed, wrap my arms around Loïc’s chest, and lean my head on his shoulder. The two of us sit in silence for a while, both lost in our own thoughts.
After several minutes, he asks, “What time is your interview?”
“Oh.” I reach for my phone on the bedside table to see that it’s only ten a.m. “Not until three. We have time.” I thread my fingers through Loïc’s and bring his hand up to my mouth. I kiss it. “We can go explore for a bit. Grab some food? You hungry?”
“Yes,” Loïc answers. “They have good food here?”
I snicker slightly. “You know we’re in the South, right? The food is heavenly. Lots of seafood, fried goodness, and butter. Everything’s better with butter.”
He peers down at me with furrowed eyebrows and a smirk on his face.
“Hey, you said good. You didn’t say anything about healthy.” I grin.
“Very true.” He chuckles. “So, who’s this guy you’re interviewing again?”
“Some politician who professes that he’s got all the answers. He’s gonna change the world.”
“So, just your typical politician?”
“Pretty much.”
“And he’s from Savannah?” Loïc asks.
“I don’t think so. He has a vacation home here.”
“Probably one of many vacation homes he has all over the country,” he adds.
“I’m sure.”
“I bet he’s really in touch with reality,” Loïc says.
I nudge his side. “Hey, just because someone comes from money doesn’t mean that they aren’t in touch with reality.”
I turn to Loïc again to find his lips pressed into a line as he tries not to laugh.
“You jerk,” I say. I remove my arms from around Loïc and dramatically cross them in front of me.
“I didn’t say anything about you,” he says.
“You were thinking it.” I scowl.
“You’re completely in touch with reality. Always have been. When I first met you, all I could think was, Man, this girl has really had it rough. Well, that, and of course, how close your tits were to falling out of your bikini top.”
My angry facade disappears into a fit of laughter. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy for you, my love,” Loïc responds.
“And stop acting like you were ogling my boobs. You didn’t even look at them. I remember because I pulled out all my best moves, and you didn’t even notice.”
Loïc laughs. “London, everyone in a one-block radius noticed you dragging your tits up and down my truck.”
“I did not do that.” I smack his arm. “Well, maybe a little, but I watched you, and you didn’t look.”
“I didn’t look, but believe me, I saw.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” I chuckle.
“It makes complete sense.”
“You’re lucky I love you.”
“Yes, I am.”
The deep timbre of Loïc’s voice melts me. I stare into his beautiful eyes, and I’m flooded with such a powerful sense of gratitude for this man. He always says that I saved him, and that might be true. But I wouldn’t be half the woman I am today without Loïc by my side. If anything, we saved each other.
I lift my leg over Loïc and straddle him, allowing my towel to fall in the process. His eyes darken, and his chest rises as he pulls in a deep breath. It doesn’t take long for his hands to find my breasts. He squeezes my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, twisting them in the most delicious way.
My head falls back with a moan as I close my eyes, taking in the sparks of pleasure. Loïc shifts beneath me. His strong hands move, now grasping my back, as his warm, wet mouth takes over where his hands left off. His tongue circles around my nipple before he sucks it deep into his mouth. Gasping, I thread my fingers around the back of his head and pull his face into my chest.
In one swift movement, Loïc lifts and flips me onto my back, encasing me between his arms. His soft lips begin to trail light, savory kisses down my chest and across my belly.
I run my palms up and down his muscled arms. “I thought you wanted to go get food. Aren’t you hungry?” I whisper weakly.
“Ravenous,” Loïc answers before his mouth finds the most perfect spot between my legs.
I cry out as his tongue begins its mind-blowing assault, lighting every nerve in my body ablaze. I tightly squeeze my eyelids closed and desperately grab at the sheets, wanting him to stop, as he lights a raging fire of need with every swipe of his tongue. The sensations are almost too much to take. As his tongue plunges deeper, the word stop becomes a plea.
“Loïc,” I say with an almost pained sob. “Loïc.” I fist his hair, and my limbs tremble. The warm rush of sensations pulls me under, and I scream out as staggering waves of pleasure shoot through me.
I’m completely spent, unable to do anything but pull air into my lungs. I breathe in deeply as the aftershocks of my incredible orgasm continue throughout my body. I vaguely register Loïc and his kisses as he works his way up toward my face.
His lips press against my own before he says, “Good?”
“So good.” My words come out breathless.
I can feel the smile on Loïc’s mouth as he kisses me again—his lips so full, his kisses intoxicating.
Without warning, I break the kiss and push Loïc away from me. “Wait! It’s after ten. Did you leave the key under the rock?”
Loïc’s face wears an expression of confusion. “What?”
“The house key. Did you leave it under the rock?”
“Yeah, babe. You told me to leave it under the rock, and that’s what I did.” He chuckles with a shake of his head.
“The rock by the front porch?” I ask.
“Yes, London. The rock by the front porch,” he repeats slowly. “Why?”
“Well, I was just thinking about Josie.”
Loïc quirks up an eyebrow, and humor lines his voice as he asks, “Oh, really?”
“Ew, no.” I shake my head with a laugh. “Not like that. She’s scheduled to come clean our house today, and I wanted to make sure that we left the key. She should be there now actually.”
Loïc lies beside me, his head propped up on his hand. “I thought we weren’t going to hire anyone to clean our house anymore.”
“Well”—I turn to face Loïc—“I’ve been thinking.”
“Have you?” Loïc smirks.
“I know you said that we are perfectly capable of cleaning our own house, and while I agree with that…we also have the means to hire someone.”
Loïc starts to speak before I cut him off, “Just hear me out. Okay?”
“All right.” He nods.
“Loïc, hiring a housecleaner isn’t a privilege thing.”
“London…” His voice drops.
“I mean, it isn’t something that only the super rich do. Lots of middle class people hire housecleaners. I know you aren’t comfortable with living a rich lifestyle, and that’s fine. But it’s a good thing.” I hold out both my index fingers, pressing one against the other. “Number one, we’re giving Josie a job, which gives her money and therefore helps the economy.”
He chuckles. “I’m glad you’re so interested in the economy.”
“I’m not done.” I grin. “Number two, having our house cleaned by someone else gives us more time to spend together when we’re home. Quality time, not time spent covered in bleach.”
“Why would we be covered in bleach?”
“Because we’re cleaning…you know, with bleach and stuff.”
A wide smile spreads across Loïc’s face, and I continue ticking off on my fingers.
“Number three is because we can. We have the money. Plus, you’ve spent lots of time in your life cleaning, and I’ve spent my fair share.”
“Have you? Little London Wright scrubbed lots of floors growing up, did she?” Loïc’s lips push up into a smirk as he slides his hand across my waist before pulling me closer to him.
“Fine,” I admit. “Maybe I didn’t spend tons of time doing chores as a child, but I get the gist of it.”
Loïc presses his lips together, amused.
“It will be different for our kids,” I promise.
Loïc’s face lights up. “It will?”
“Well, yeah.” I shrug. “I don’t want our kids to grow up, feeling entitled. I want them to understand responsibility and know what it feels like to work hard. We’re going to raise good people.”
“Yeah, we are,” Loïc responds with a nod.
He wears an expression that I can’t quite place as his gaze searches my own.
“What?” I ask, a grin resting on my lips. “What are you thinking?”
“Well, I was just imagining what it’ll be like to have kids with you,” he answers simply.
“And?”
“Honestly, I can’t think of anything more incredible.”
“Me either,” I agree.
“Yeah?” He smiles wide. As always, it’s a beautifully devastating event.
“Of course. What could possibly be more astonishing than creating a life with the man of my dreams and starting a family? Just think… raising perfect little versions of us. I can picture an adorable child with your eyes.” I let out a wistful breath of air.
“And your smile,” he adds, his deep stare penetrating mine.
“Your strength,” I say.
“Your spunk.”
I thread my fingers through the hair at the nape of Loïc’s neck. “Your kindness.”
“And your heart.” He gently runs his thumb across my lips.
“Yeah. Amazing,” I whisper, my voice thoughtful.
“Let’s make a baby, London.” Loïc’s statement is full of conviction and so much love.
I hesitate, only slightly. “Really?”
“Yes. We’re ready.”
I press my lips together to stop the quivering. The thought of making a baby with the love of one’s life is completely overwhelming. In all the fairy tales, there’s the happily ever after—the pivotal moment that every little girl dreams of reaching. Yet it’s this, right here—the life after the happily ever after—that’s the true gift. These are the moments I never knew to dream about.
“Okay.” I nod through a few errant tears. “Let’s do it.”
“Yeah?” Loïc squeezes me with excitement. “How are our chances right now?”
“Like, right now?” I ask.
“Yes, London. I want to make a baby with you. Right. Now. You think that’d be possible?” His voice drops an octave, and that husky whisper causes a rush of desire to penetrate my body.
I clear my throat. “Actually, yes. Remember when we were traveling last month, I was supposed to get my birth control refilled, and I forgot? So, I’m not positive, but I think it’s perfect timing as far as that goes.”
Loïc gifts me with his irresistible boy-next-door smile as he makes quick work of removing his boxers.
Then, he crawls atop me and kisses me hard. His mouth and tongue move against mine in a passionate dance. I’m delirious when he pulls away, his lips hovering millimeters from mine, his breaths my own. I open my eyes and blink as he comes into focus.
“I love you more than anything in this world, London Berkeley.”
“I love you the same.”
His fingers thread through mine as he lifts my arms above my head. His lips press against my own once more, and when he enters me, it’s unlike anything I’ve felt. After he pulls his mouth away, my gaze finds his, and he holds me there. The intensity in his stare leaves me breathless. His moves are deliberate and powerful. Each thrust is deep, a promise—one that’s offering me the world. So many emotions fill my heart until they’re flooding out, falling from my eyes and rolling down my cheeks.
The sex is unhurried and intense. I’ve experienced what it’s like when Loïc worships my body with his. He touches all the right places, drawing out sensations I didn’t know existed. Pleasure engulfs me. His flame lights my soul on fire while his love simultaneously soothes the blaze.
Making love to Loïc has always been phenomenal. But making a baby with him is amazing.
I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life because it’s nothing short of perfection.