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She swore the bed would break. Gripping her thigh, he pounded into her pussy like she asked him to. He held tight to one of her nipples with his fingers. She felt the delicious tug on it with every thrust.
“Just like that. Don’t stop.”
Holy fucking shit, don’t stop!
He didn’t stop.
She rubbed her clit faster.
“That’s it, baby.”
Chloe could feel his sweat trickle onto her back. His breathing was loud and heavy. He was making those little grunting noises. The noises that told her he was trying to hold back, that he was waiting for her.
Jesse released her leg and grasped her other nipple, both of them pinched between his fingers. He twisted and tugged as he flexed his hips even faster. Drove his dick deeper. Fucked her harder.
She understood why the French called it la petit mort. The little death. The release wasn’t simply a physical one, but a spiritual one too. Anything that felt this good had to come at a cost, and whatever it was she would gladly and willingly pay it.
“I love you, Riosin.” Jesse turned her to face him and kissed her. “So much.”
Chloe gazed into his eyes. Through the glass behind him, the sky had lightened to a pale winter blue with the rising sun. His eyes were the color of that beautiful morning sky. She smiled. “I love you too.”
Chloe breathed the crisp cold December air in deep through her nose as she walked in the direction of First Avenue. It was the solstice. The first day of winter. A lot of people hated the city’s long winter—the cold and the slush, the ice and the snow. As long as she didn’t have to shovel, she didn’t mind it. Most days she didn’t mind the cold either. Like today. The sun was shining on freshly fallen snow and the pale morning sky had deepened to a lovely azure. She and Linnea were meeting for brunch to go over wedding stuff and then the fitting for their dresses. Jesse wanted to drive her, but today was such a beautiful winter’s day she wanted to walk.
With only four shopping days left until Christmas, First Avenue was crammed with last-minute holiday shoppers. Chloe was glad she wasn’t one of them. Linnea was already seated at a table by the window inside Chez Moi when she arrived.
“Hey, sweetie.” Chloe hugged Linnea, and unwinding the scarf from around her neck, she sat down. Already salivating, she took a deep savoring breath. “God, I love this place.”
“I know. Why do you think we’re here?” She smiled. “Oh, before I forget…” Linnea reached into her tote and handed her a thick manilla envelope. “…Kyan asked me to bring you this—the preliminary drawings for your house. He wanted to make sure you guys had plenty of time to look them over before Taylor leaves.”
Their server came to the table with sparkling Perrier water and a smiling Linnea ordered a mimosa from the bar. There seemed to be no trace left of the broken girl she was four months ago. Linnea had been in such a dark, horrific place, but the woman who sat in front of her now appeared confident and radiant, happy and carefree.
“So, how are you and Ky?”
The corners of her lips upturned. Her green eyes sparkled. “We’re great.”
“And Dillon? He still hangin’ at your place?”
Linnea blushed. “Yeah, until Park Place is ready. He and Kyan got a tenant for their townhouse, so yeah.”
Uh-huh.
The server reappeared with Linnea’s champagne. “What can I start you off with, ladies?”
Chloe didn’t even have to look at the menu. “Onion soup for me, and can I get extra…”
“Cheese?” He winked. “Of course, miss.”
She giggled. Maybe she came here too often.
“Have you heard from your dad?” Linnea asked, looking hopeful. “Is he coming?”
Jesse and Chloe had gone to her childhood home in the suburbs to see her father the weekend after Thanksgiving. Having played college ball himself, Michael Bennett knew who Jesse was, and was thrilled he was dating his daughter. He was even more thrilled to see the diamond ring on Chloe’s finger. When they told him about the baby he seemed a bit stunned, but his grin remained. It was Taylor, that there were three of them going into this marriage, that wiped it from his face.
So she didn’t know if he was coming to the wedding, if he’d walk her down the aisle, or give them his blessing. Jesse had spoken to her father in private before they left that day. He didn’t tell her what words they’d exchanged, only that her dad loved her very much—he just needed some time. He seemed certain her father would come around, but Chloe wasn’t so sure.
“I haven’t.” She shrugged. “My grandma is coming up from Florida, though.”
Linnea grabbed her hand from across the table and squeezed it. The server came with their starters. French onion soup just the way she liked it and an order of escargots—snails swimming in Maître D’butter under a puff pastry crust. Linnea loved them, but then Chloe didn’t think she had a clue that’s what she was eating, and she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell her.
