Take My Breath Away (The Every Breath Duet Book 2) Page 2

  She was close to coming. I could feel her tensing around my fingers, but I didn’t want the first time she let go with me to happen this way.

  “Hold on, babe,” I said, removing my hand from between her legs and stroking my cock with her arousal. I coated the tip with my thumb, the thick shaft with my hand, as London watched on with the most beautifully-blended expression of agony and bliss.

  “Oh. Sam. Please,” she begged.

  “Anything for you, my love.” I smiled.

  Gazing down at her, our eyes locked and her breath hitched as I finally slid inside of her.

  “Yes.” A soft murmur hissed off her tongue.

  “London . . .” I growled, finding paradise as I plunged deeper. But I would not allow my eyes to roll back the way they wanted to. I would not take them off of her. I had to memorize her face while I made love to her for the first time, for this was the happiest I’d ever been. The happiest we’d ever been together.

  She wrapped her long limbs around my waist and pulled my face down to hers. “Please don’t ever stop,” she whispered before claiming my mouth.

  I kissed her hard and slow to match my thrusts, and she lost all control, giving me everything and withholding nothing.

  Our lovemaking was effortless, beautiful, like I knew it would be. There was no learning curve, no boundary to cross over, no room for the embarrassment London had feared. As our hearts had done so many years ago at the age of nine, our bodies molded together perfectly, as if she was made for me, and I for her.

  “Do you understand now? Do you feel it? Do you see?” I gasped for air as I rocked in and out of her.

  “I do,” she cried out. “I love you so much, Sam. So fucking much.”

  “I love you, too, London. I always have. And I won’t ever stop.”

  I’d known all along that we were meant to be, but after years of having to hide it, I feared I’d never get the chance to prove it.

  We would probably do this a million more times in our lifetime together. But this time—this first time—I would cherish this day until my dying breath, for I’d been granted my one wish.

  London Monroe finally loved me back.

  LONDON AND I had not slept apart in over a week. The night she came over to tell me she’d chosen me was the beginning of it all. That next morning, everything went down with Bryce and she tried to convince me that she was afraid to sleep alone because of him. But after our night on the beach—our first time—I knew she didn’t want to leave my bed because she simply couldn’t get enough of me.

  “I don’t want to go to work . . . like ever again,” she groaned, scooting her ass into my groin and cocooning the blanket around us.

  “I thought you liked your job, but if you don’t . . . quit. Go back to school to do something you really love.”

  Spinning around to face me, she placed her hand over my cheek and rubbed the coarse hairs of my beard between her fingertips. London loved the scruffy whiskers I’d grown since returning from China. I was pretty sure she mostly enjoyed how they tickled her thighs when I went down on her.

  “I do love my job; I just don’t want to leave you.” Her plump, succulent lips spread into a smile that lit up her entire face.

  “Soon you won’t have to.” I ran my fingers through her hair, untangling a tiny knot that must’ve formed overnight.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “When my house is ready, you’re moving in with me.”

  “Sam, we just . . . I can’t—”

  I kissed her silent and then told her what I’d been telling her for the last week. “You can and you will because it’s what makes the most sense. It’s inevitable anyway. This isn’t some fling, London. Am I wrong?”

  Long lashes brushed the glowing skin beneath her eyes as she blinked. Caramel irises with brush strokes of amber and gold stared back at me in wonderment. “No, you’re not, but . . . I still can’t believe we’re here. Like this. That I’m kissing you, touching you, loving you. You don’t think it’s too soon? You don’t think we’re rushing into this?”

  “Rushing?” Did she have any idea how crazy that sounded? “Babe, there is nothing about you and me that has been or ever will be rushed. Slow torture, remember? It’s taken us forever to get here. I’d marry you right now, this very second, boxer shorts and all, if you’d have me.”

  “How about no boxer shorts and I get to have you all I want?” She bit her lower lip and slid her hands into the waistband of my boxers.

  “Don’t try to seduce me into changing the topic.” But it was too late. Her grip on my morning wood was so tight, so tempting, the blood flow to my cock overpowered all my brainwaves.

  She started with her hands and then continued with her mouth. Her lips were a sinfully magnificent vice around my cock. She knew how to work me to the point of delirium with her tongue, but real mecca was found when she straddled me, fisted my shaft, and sank down on top of me.

  This would never get old. I would fuck this woman every minute for the rest of my life and never get tired of it. We might become sore, but we’d never get bored, for every time we made love, it was a new experience, an education in sensuality, in discovering each other.

  “So good,” I growled, guiding her up and down by her waist.

  “Yes. So fucking good,” she moaned as she threw her head back, her hair cascading down her back and brushing my thighs.

  Grunts and groans filled the room, ricocheted off the walls and permeated the otherwise quiet space. London’s hips circled as she undulated on top of me. I bucked forward, propelling my cock to the hilt as I manipulated her tits with my hands. She squeezed her legs tighter around my waist, creating friction against her clit and inciting a climax that elicited a scream so brash it had to have filtered through the open window for the neighbors to hear.

  “Come, babe.” I sweet-talked her with a smile. “I love to watch you come. It’s my new favorite thing about you.”

  “Oh, God,” she shouted again, gripping my biceps as she rode me fast and hard.

  “Yes, just like that. So fucking beautiful.” Her cheeks were a dewy pink, her hair flowing wildly, her hips jerking with violet force. And that mouth, that gorgeous mouth hung open with weighty, breathy moans. Watching that mouth, hearing her cries—that’s what made me come; it was my undoing time and time again.

  “Jesus Christ,” I growled after emptying every last drop inside of her.

  She collapsed on top of me, sweaty and panting, my dick still hard and pulsing between her legs.

  “How can I go to work after that?” she wheezed.

  “Call in sick.”

  “I wish I could but I can’t,” she whined. “But knowing we get to do that again later will definitely get me through the day.”

  I laughed at her unwavering stamina, but the rumble in my chest fell silent at the sound of something moving on the other side of the bedroom door. “Shit. Did you hear that?”

  She popped up, pulling the blanket over her bare chest. “Yeah. What do you think it is?”

  I jumped up out of bed, not bothering to take the time to dress. “Stay right here and don’t make a sound.”

  We’d both been on edge and overly cautious ever since the incident with Bryce. After learning of his obsessive past, neither London nor I were convinced his stalking days were over. As I widened the door, I half expected to see him standing there with his dick in his hand—okay, maybe I’d seen one too many Investigation Discovery episodes, but once I stepped foot out of the bedroom, I quickly grabbed my junk to cover up.

  “Mom! When did you get back?”

  “About ten minutes ago.” She winced. From her blanched complexion and the trepidation in her tone, I could tell she’d heard everything London and I had just finished doing.

  “Oh, Jesus,” I mumbled, wilting against the wall.

  “I’ll just go . . . unpack, unless you want me to put on a pot of coffee for you and your—lady friend.” She turned her back to me and started back
down the hall.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at her discomfort, but I had a feeling that once she knew who my lady friend was, this might get a little less awkward. “Mom, this is probably a good time to tell you—”

  “Oh, God.” Her hands flew into the air and then down at her sides. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this. Every time you’ve ever started a sentence like that, my blood pressure has gone through the roof. I’ll just go to my room and wait for her to leave. I think that’s the best bet, don’t you?”

  At that, I heard London’s gentle footsteps padding against the floor and approaching from behind.

  I widened the door and she emerged with a shy smile.

  “Welcome back, Jean.”

  My mother’s eyes went wide and her chin dropped to her chest. “London! That was you in there? Oh my God, I think I should just go die now.” This time, she did not slink away slowly. No, this time she jetted out of there so fast she practically left a skid mark on the hardwood.

  “You think she’s surprised?” I asked, hooking my arm around London’s waist.

  “I think she’s shell shocked.”

  Mom always knew I had a thing for London, but it had been so long since we’d talked about it, this had to have come as a very unexpected surprise. Not to mention, we thought we were alone. We’d been really loud . . . and kind of vulgar, come to think about it.

  London hung her head and scrubbed her hand down her face. “I’m pretty sure she’ll never look at me the same again.”

  “Mama bear!” I slid into the kitchen, Risky Business style, and came up behind my mother to hug her.

  Startled, and probably still a bit shaken by what she heard a little while ago, her body tensed at my touch. “Go sit. I made omelets.” She shrugged me off as she continued to butter English muffins and arrange them neatly on the plate she reserved for her breakfast specialties.

  “Hear that? Omelets!” Stomach grumbling, I rubbed my hands together and turned to London. She was twirling her hair between her fingers and leaning against the door frame as though she hadn’t eaten Jean Goodwin’s omelets and English muffins a hundred times before.

  “What’s the matter?” I whispered as I inched closer to her.

  “I feel . . . weird,” she admitted, looking down at her feet.

  Something clicked then. An innate requirement to make things right, to keep my girl happy, to make her feel safe and loved and wanted and everything other than weird.

  “Oh, no, no no, no.” I laughed as I took her hands and dragged her to the table. “There will be none of that. We’re nipping this shit in the bud right here, right now. Hey, Mom?”

  “Sam! Please. What are you doing?” London cringed.

  My mother’s back was still facing us and London’s eyes were now shielded by her hands. This was not how I’d expected this to go. They were the two most important people in my life. There was no room for awkwardness here. London and Mom always had a great relationship, much like London’s mom, Ella, and I shared. I would not allow that to change now that we were together. If anything, I hoped we’d all grow closer, a happy, blended family of old friends and new adventures.

  “Mom,” I called for her attention again.

  “What, honey?” she answered, still not turning around.

  I huffed as I walked over to her, yanking the plate of over-buttered English muffins from the counter in one hand and gripping Mom’s elbow with the other. “Sit down and stop acting like London’s some one-night stand I brought in off the street.”

  Mom gasped and London dropped her hands from her eyes to toss me a look of pure outrage.

  “And you,” I started, placing the plate on the table and focusing on my sheepish beauty. “There is nothing to feel weird about.”

  “Oh, no?” she interrupted. Her eyes were wide, her teeth gritted as she mouthed, “She heard us.”

  It was Mom’s turn to drop her head into her hands as she took a seat. “I should have called first. That’s where I went wrong.”

  London was quick to come to Mom’s defense. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jean. This is your house. You shouldn’t feel uncomfortable in your own home. We had no idea you were coming back this early, otherwise this would’ve never happened.”

  “Whoa. Wait a minute.” I turned to London. “Are you telling me now that she’s home you won’t be spending the night anymore? Because that’s total bullshit, babe.”

  London clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Sam . . . a little respect.”

  “Let’s all calm down.” Finally, showing her face—and flashing the slightest hint of a smile—my mother reached across the table to pat London’s hand. “Sweetheart, please. I’m sorry if I made this more awkward than it had to be. I was just taken by surprise, that’s all. You know I love you. And I’ve known for some time how much he loves you.” She blinked then, turning to beam at me and then bringing her softened gaze back to London who was clutching her chest with her free hand. “You are welcome here whenever you want, any time of day. I’m sure it’s been eerily empty next door with Ella in the hospital. I’m happy you have Sam to . . . keep you company. I’m happy you two have finally figured this all out.”

  “You are?” London asked through the makings of a face-brightening grin.

  Mom nodded. “I am. I always thought you two were perfect for each other.”

  “We certainly are,” I added, joining them at the table.

  Mom reached over to touch my face, smoothing my beard with her palm. “Now, why don’t you tell me all about how this finally happened while we eat? I leave town for a week and I miss all the good stuff. Fill me in.”

  I stood to offer my mother another hug from behind. “Welcome home, mama bear.”

  She reached up to hold my arms and I could tell by the way London was smiling that the two of them were sharing a moment.

  Winking at London, I blew her a kiss and mouthed the three words that had become my favorite to say to her.

  She winked back, a silent affirmation that everything was falling into place exactly how it should be.

  THE WEEK PASSED by without any hiccups. The brief tension between Mom and London that first morning dissolved even faster than it appeared.

  Ella had made some progress, and Doctor Bronson, who had taken over her case in Bryce’s absence, was even talking about sending her back home to await the transplant.

  My screening at the transplant center was about eighty percent complete, but I was starting to feel like a lab rat. Not only had I been poked and prodded by nearly everyone in that facility, but I still had to undergo glucose testing, a chest X-ray, an echocardiogram, and psychological evaluation.

  I wasn’t worried about any of it—I was healthy and sane, depending on whom you asked—

  and even though there were many steps involved in donating my kidney to Ella, I was confident in my decision. How could I not be? I was gifting her more time on this Earth and in turn, granting the love of my life more time with her mother. Easiest decision of my life, save for the one to come clean and tell London that I’d been in love with her for as long as I’d known her.

  That was the best thing I’d ever done. Without question. Especially because the end result was my lifelong wish come true. There was no greater reward than hearing London tell me she loved me with her arms wrapped around my neck and our bodies making up for lost time.

  To think, only a few weeks ago she was merely my best friend. Not that having her that way could ever be described as insignificant or second rate. No, every second spent with London was cherished time, even if my heart ached to sing its love song to her and my fingers craved one desperate touch.

  Now, my greedy fingers were in all their glory and my heart—my heart had never been so fucking happy. I even felt a shift in the way it beat when we were together. Where it used to almost hurt as it throbbed for her, now its rhythm was a tranquil hum. It was at peace with its companion, exactly like the rest of me.

  And that’s why
I had to make this more permanent. I had to show London that we were forever. I wasn’t kidding when I told her I’d marry her in boxer shorts, right there in my childhood bedroom. But London deserved so much more. We both did.

  Even grand gestures and fairytales weren’t adequate for my girl, though. She was worthy of the type of event reserved only for the royal family. And I would give her that, if it was what she wanted.

  But right now, I had something else to give. Something else I wanted to share with her, to experience together.

  A home.

  Our home.

  When I walked into that house for the first time with London by my side, I knew. I saw it. I envisioned the whole shebang. Our future.

  I loved the existing décor but imagined London’s creative touches would add a warmth that could turn a house into a real deal home. I pictured her cooking at the stove and trying to escape me as I chased her around the kitchen island; lounging in the backyard while we drank margaritas; fucking like rabbits in the master bedroom, the Jacuzzi in the en suite, the nook beneath the bay window in one of the spare bedrooms, and basically every square inch of the place.

  She belonged here as much as I did. And although she shot me down the first time I asked, I wouldn’t take no for an answer the second time around.

  This time, it’d be impossible to reject me. This time I’d make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. That’s why I hired a decorating team to come in and help me map everything out.

  I couldn’t wait to see her face when she came here to help me move in. For it would be the same day she was moving in, too.

  I’d already spoken to Ella and received her blessing. Unlike London, she didn’t overthink this sort of thing. She saw how happy I made her daughter, how happy we were together, and she knew there was no reason to delay the inevitable.