Roxanne Claire - Barefoot by the Sea

Did he really have to ask? A few safe answers to the question floated around, but they were drowned out by their solemn promise to never, under any circumstances, lie to each other for the rest of the time they were together.

“Losing you,” she admitted.

His eyes closed like she’d shot him.

“Ian.” The name was still precious on her lips, spoken only when they were like this. The problem was, they’d spent so much time like this, she thought of him as Ian now. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” His voice was gruff, his eyes still closed. “I don’t want to lose you, either.”

She drifted closer, not that they could get too much deeper under each other’s skin. He responded instantly, wrapping his leg around her, tunneling his fingers in her hair, his hard-on pressed against her belly.

Sparks flared over her, mini–lightning bolts between her legs and fireworks deep inside her body. She let out a soft moan, already moving against him, wanting that pressure in the pleasure point he always found.

“Every time,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss her throat.

“Every time what?”

“Every time I touch you, I get hard.”

“You woke up hard.”

“I touched you all night.” He caressed her breast, leaning her back into the pillow to get on top of her. “Anyway, every time I think about you, I get hard.”

They started to move in perfect rhythm, going to the place they’d both found exciting and comfortable—and the perfect escape when the conversation moved from their past and present to the future.

But the future loomed and the call from Henry would come very, very soon.

Tessa closed her eyes and erased the thought, instead letting feelings win this round. The pressure of his big, hard body over hers. The pleasure of his strong hands stroking her. The delicious, tickling, fluttery sensation that traveled from her toes to her eyelids when they started to make love.

This was when he whispered with his accent, when all the walls were completely torn down, when all the secrets and lies and history were silenced by their strangled breaths and precious moans of delight.

This was also when he reached to the drawer, sheathed himself, and entered her.

“Spread your legs, pretty Tessa,” he urged, his fingers already working to make her weak and wet.

She did, of course, bracing for him to lift off her, but he slid his tip right in the spot where his finger had been, making her gasp a little and open her eyes in question.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He lifted a brow.

“Get a condom.” Except for the first time, they’d never made love without one.

“I don’t want to.”

Her heart did a roll and dip, landing low in her stomach. “Ian, we talked about this.”

“You want—”

She gripped his shoulders. “Forget what I want. We’ve already got the most screwed-up, impossible, complicated, unreal relationship in the history of love. We’re already going to long for what we’ll never have, wonder about the missing person in our lives…” Her voice cracked. “I don’t want that.”

“You do,” he insisted, but didn’t go any deeper. “You want a baby. Could you get pregnant now?”

She almost laughed. “I’m pretty sure I can’t get pregnant at all, but if I were normal and functioning, yeah, I could. So, don’t.”

“Let me give this to you. Tessa. You’re doing everything for me.”

“I’m going through the motions of a wedding and letting you leave without a fight. Hardly everything.”

He crushed her with a little more weight. “It’s everything to me.”

“This.” She gestured between them. “Is not a sacrifice for me. I’ve had a few weeks of the most fun, the best sex, and the sweetest guy I’ve ever known. It’s not a sacrifice, trust me.”

“But if you had my baby, you’d never be alone.”

Tears welled up that he knew her weak spots so well. No one had ever known that about her. Not Billy, not even her friends. Only this man.

“It would be worse,” she whispered. “If I had your baby, I’d never forget you. He’d have blue eyes and a sweet smile and”—she fought the physical pain of it—“he could calculate Pi to twenty digits without a calculator.”

“See?”

See what? She didn’t see anything but a tear-blurred beautiful man that she—“No.”

“That first night, you were looking for a sperm donor. If I’d have said yes, you could be pregnant now.”

“I was looking for one to go in a test tube.”

He moved ever so slightly, a centimeter deeper into her. “Screw the test tube.”

“Ian!” She inched away. “Don’t you know I’d writhe in absolute agony if I couldn’t tell you about your child? Not to mention that I already have to lie to my friends and act like I’m a little bit brokenhearted because I’d fallen for a man with wanderlust who was bound to disappear.”

Pain crossed his face—that same misery she used to see before she knew his true story. “But you’d have a baby.”

Probably not. “But I wouldn’t have you.”

“You’d have a piece of me.”

“I don’t want a piece.” She wanted it all. The whole of him, his heart, his life, his world, his children. She stroked his face, wishing she didn’t deeply love and hate the idea at the same time. “And how would you feel, knowing that you have yet another child in the world you can’t see?”

“I’d feel…” He shook his head. “This isn’t about how I feel.”

“This isn’t how I wanted it to be, Ian,” she finally whispered. “The baby isn’t supposed to make me hurt because I love his father, the baby—”

“You love me.” There was nothing but awe in the statement.

For a second, her mouth hung open. Had she said that?

“Well, I…” She closed her eyes, caught by her words and her promise not to lie. “Yes, I—”

He cut her off with a kiss, hard and deep and soul-rocking. Clutching her, he nearly broke her in half, devouring her mouth and sliding right back inside her, even deeper.

“Ian, I—”

He finally lifted his head, his eyes moist and sparking with emotion. “I love you, Tessa.”

She swallowed her own admission, letting his wash over her.

“I love you so much.” He covered the crack in his voice by smashing his face into her neck and hair. “I never thought I could love anyone or anything again, but I love you, Tessa Galloway. I love you.”

All the heat of the kiss disappeared, replaced by a wholly different sensation. An ecstasy she couldn’t quite grasp, like soaring down a rollercoaster with all her breath stolen and a scream trapped in her throat.

When he looked at her, all she could do was nod. Words simply wouldn’t form.

She’d take that piece of him; it wasn’t such a big risk. She couldn’t get pregnant.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He slid into her all the way, filling her, thrilling her, loving her. Slowly at first, looking into each other’s eyes, lost in love, they rocked in perfect timing. Her body floated and rolled, each thrust twisting pangs of pleasure deeper into her, his manhood swelling and pulsing as far into her as he could get. His skin was on fire, his body taut, his face transformed by the moment.

Every stroke took her closer to release, but she fought it off, wanting to be a hundred percent in the moment when he lost control. Grasping his shoulders, she forced him in deeper, watching for the moment when he cringed and cried and exploded into her.

“Tessa. Tessa.” His body froze for a second, his breath caught, almost as if he were waiting for permission.

“I love you, Ian,” she whispered. “And I’ll never, ever forget you.”

He closed his eyes, bowed his back, and plunged all the way, giving in to a long, powerful orgasm and filling her with his seed. She rolled against him but let her own pleasure subside.

“Don’t you want to?” he asked.

She didn’t. She wanted to hold him. That was satisfaction enough. “I’m fine,” she whispered.

“You sure are,” he replied, his very first pickup line sounding so different now.

He stayed in her a long time, quiet and close, as connected as two people could be. Tomorrow they’d be married and, soon after, parted forever. But right this moment, this frozen dawn-dusted moment, Tessa loved and was loved. And whatever might come out of that would be loved, too.

Across the room, under a pile of clothes they’d stripped off the night before, a soft vibration hummed.

The Henry phone.

“I’m not getting that.”

“You have to.”

He shook his head. “He can bloody well suck it.”

“Ian.” She pushed him up. “This could be the call you’ve been waiting for. You could get your kids.”

“What if I didn’t?”

Her eyes widened, horrified. “You have to. You can’t live without them, not if there’s any chance you can.”

“I know, I know.” He backed away, shooting a glance at the noise. “I want you both.”

And the only way he could have that was if she gave up everything and everyone and went with him.

He slipped out of her, rolled out of bed, and bounded to the phone, stabbing it. “What?”

Tessa pulled the sheet higher, staring at Ian’s naked torso backlit by fingers of golden sunlight slipping through the shutters. She’d always remember him this way. The sex-god from the bar who stole her heart and gave her hope.

Because she couldn’t help but hope that—

“Seriously?”

The note in his voice grabbed her attention, forcing her gaze at his face to try and interpret the response.

“Monday? Okay, Monday.” He nodded, turning sideways as if he couldn’t even look at her. “I’ll be there Monday.”

And all that hope withered inside her like a flower that had been denied even a single drop of water.

That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” Lacey glided into the spa massage room that, in the last few hours, had been transformed into a makeshift bridal dressing room, her eyes on her cell phone.

“What is?” Tessa asked, pulling away from the mascara wand Zoe held to her eyes.

“The guys as groomsmen.” Lacey clicked and grinned. “I got a picture of the three of them with John. Look.”

They butted heads trying to see the tiny screen, peering together at a posed shot of the four men.

“Oh, look at Oliver,” Zoe exclaimed. “I could eat him alive. Again.”

“Wow, Will looks hot in a suit.” Jocelyn pointed to the phone. “And I thought that baseball uniform did him justice.”

“How about Clay?” Lacey gave a nudge. “That boy is sexy.”

They all looked expectantly at Tessa, who managed to pull her gaze from the dizzying sight of Ian Browning—groom.

“Well?” Zoe asked. “Boyfriend assessment?”

“He’s not my…” She straightened and slid the mascara wand from Zoe’s hand. “I’ll finish this.”

But they all continued to stare at her with twinkles in their collective eyes. Oh, this would all get worse on Monday when she had to tell them that John took off, too freaked out by the speed of their romance, and they’d split up. Then the happy eyes would turn to pity hugs.

At least she wouldn’t have to fake a broken heart.

“What?” she finally said. “I’m telling you, this is a fun fling with a hot guy. I can already tell he’s getting itchy to fly. Don’t be surprised if we’re looking for a new chef soon.”

“Why are you doing this?” Jocelyn demanded.

“Why am I being realistic?” she fired back, irritation making her stomach burn. Although she’d pretty much felt like throwing up since she’d gotten up this morning and remembered it was her wedding day. You know, the day before her “husband” disappeared forever.

“Why are you being fatalistic?” Jocelyn replied. “It’s like you won’t even give the guy a chance.”

“I know him better than you.” Much better. “I know the signs of a man who won’t settle down and, honestly, I’m fine with that.” She leaned back from the mirror and checked out her makeup. “I look a little—”

“Gorgeous,” Lacey said. “You look gorgeous.”

Actually, she was going to say pale and suggest more blush, but she went with Lacey’s assessment. “Guess it’s time for the dress, huh?”

Three loud knocks at the door cut into the reaction. “Tessa, you in there?”

At the woman’s voice, they all shared a quick, slightly panicked look. Lacey held up a finger to hush them. “One second, Willow.” She leaned closer to the girls. “I haven’t heard a peep from them since last night, have you?”

“They loved the spa treatments,” Jocelyn mouthed.