A Toast to the Good Times (25 page)

She slinks one hand down my body and grabs my already hard dick. “Really? No problem?”

“No problem some lotion and a tube sock won’t fix,” I groan.

Her laugh rings out loud and clear. “A tube sock, really?”

I lay on top of her, pressing my body against all the perfect velvety softness of her. “Nah. Usually it’s just your towel.”

“Landry!” Her laughter leaves her breathless. “Are you teasing me?”

“That’s a very ironic question, Mr. Eby.” I kiss her shoulder. “I’m perfectly content with getting my Jergen’s on, but is there anything I can do for you before I go?”

She stops laughing and brushes my hair back off my forehead with her fingers. “So you really love me?”

“I do.” I kiss her chin. “I’m crazy about you.”

“I have something I need to tell you.” Her voice is very low and serious. I wait, breath held, limbs stiff with anticipation. “I love you. I love you, too, Landry.” She lets out a long gasp of air. “Thank god. Oh, that feels so good. I’ve
wanted
to say that for so long.”

Her declaration makes me giddy. “So, you love me?”

“I do, I do, I do,” she says, and then her talking gets tangled with her kissing, and then the words are eclipsed by the sweep of her tongue on mine and the pressure of her mouth.

I stop and check over and over. When my hands co
a
st over the swells of her curves. When my mouth dips farther down than I’m sure is within her limits. When my fingers creep closer to the silky slickness between her legs and start their rhythm, it first leaves her breathing haggard, then stiffens every muscle and makes her c
law
and grab me closer, and, finally, leaves her body so relaxed it looks liquid boned.

“I want you,” she moans with a lazy, crooked smile. “I want you now.” She flops one arm in the direction of her nightstand and feels around for the crinkle
of the familiar wrapper.

She hands it over to me, and I fit the condom on, and then take a minute to drink her in, all long, supple limbs and sex-kitten yawn.

“Tired?” I ask, my voice unsteady.

She nods. “But more
frisky
than sleepy.”

She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls my hips close to her body. My finger traces a damp line, and I lead my dick deep inside of her with one sure press of my body against hers.

Her reclining form suddenly comes to life. She twines her arms and legs around me, holding tight as I press deep into her and pull almost completely out. I’m taking things slow, letting this build up gently, reining in what I want to do and how

She nips my earlobe between her teeth, lets go when I moan and whispers, “Harder, Landry.”

It’s the last thing I expected to hear, but it’s a nice surprise. Because there’s a lot that the two of us went through tonight and over the last few days, and sex has been...amazing between us. But I want to give over to her, to let myself fall into her completely and lose my mind in bed with her.

“You’re sure?” I ask, closing my eyes and locking my jaw.

Instead of answering, she grabs onto my ass and fists her hands, pulling me closer and tighter to her. I drive in and she bucks up close to me.

I gasp and she moans. I draw out and she whimpers. Keeping the pace slow is my way to let this all last longer, but she’s not having it. Her hands tug at me, increasing the tempo and she arches her back against the quick, pulsing rhythm
.

“So good, Land
ry, so much, I love you, I love this,” she pants, words running into one another, gasps escaping her lips and interrupting the flow whenever I hit just the right spot.

I’m trying to keep my body in tune with hers, trying to run against her at the perfect angle to feel her come hard against me, but it’s not as easy as I thought it would be.

Mila is an interactive lover, and she moves against my body with such quick, constant motion, it’s difficult for either one of us to establish any kind of pace.

But I’m not complaining. Not at all. I love the unexpected slip of her skin on mine, the twist of her body under my hands, the sudden jerks and grabs and pulls. She rolls over and grinds down on me for a few minutes before pulling me back on top of her and encouraging me to pump faster and harder into her.

“Landry, mmm, I’ve thought about this a thousand times.”

“What if I didn’t convince you to get in bed with me?” I demand against her ear, licking and nipping at her skin until I can feel the beginnings of her tell-tale quivers.

“I would have...there, right there.” She shifts under me, her thighs squeezed around my hips. “I would have closed my eyes and pretended it was you every time.”

I love and hate that answer. My hands are in her hair, pushing it back, so I can watch her as she loses it, her thighs pressing hard then falling open, her body pressed completely against mine, then dropping back against the mattress, cries of perfect contentment echoing out of her lips.

I run my hands over her face and slow down, just slightly. Now that I know that she’s satisfied, now that we’ve ravaged each other to our hearts’ content, I try to enjoy what little
self-control
I have left.

It’s not much at all. Her gorgeous face, her warm, soft body, the slickness of her that I helped bring on all conspire and leave me quaked with the ultimate release. I gather her in my arms and crush her close, not willing to leave the bed for anything.

“Will you open the bar today?” she asks sleepily.

“Maybe. Will you come sit on the stool and keep me company?” She links her hand through mine and drifts off to sleep.

“Yes,” she mumbles. “I like to watch you...bartending...so sexy.”

I chuckle and kiss her temple, brushing sticky strands of her hair off of her face.

“I love you, Mila Eby.”

She tucks herself close to my body. “Love you...more. And wookies.”

I laugh, but she can’t share the joke, because she’s out cold. I crush her close and thank whatever deity is responsible for bringing her to me for the luck I have, getting to laugh and love and live with this girl I know I’ll never let go.

Epilogue

“You really can’t have a light saber,” Mila frowns.

She’s wearing sexy makeup and her hair is up in an elaborate set of braids, but she has a robe on because she’s keeping the costume she has been working on like a person possessed for weeks a big, crazy secret.

“Why not?” I ask, flicking my wrist so the plastic columns on the toy jut out. I press the button that activates the light and sound effects, and grin at the buzz.

“You have adamantium claws.” She turns over my gloves, equipped with fairly realistic claws. “Aren’t these enough?”

“You don’t think Wolverine would harness the power of the Jedi if he had the chance? Plus, this isn’t even one of your special light sabers. This is just a toy.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her when her frown gets deep and serious.

“They’re all special. And it’s a prop, so don’t disrespect it just because it’s not as advanced as the other props,” she grumbles. “
Anyway
, Wolverine wouldn’t be harnessing any Jedi powers through the saber itself. Jedi powers are intuitive. And that’s a red saber, so it’s Sith, not Jedi.”

I wrap my arms around her slim waist and breathe the soft vanilla smell of her deep into my lungs. “So, what’s under that robe, my sexy little nerd? The green stretchy thing?”

She sighs. “Silver Fox is a fine character, but she doesn’t speak to me. And I didn’t have enough time to make an authentic costume just to match yours.” She puts her hands over the knot in her robe that I’m studiously trying to undo.

“I
, for one,
think you’re missing out
."
I grab a comb off her dresser and run it through my hair in an attempt to keep it slicked back, but it’s already curling like crazy. Mila comes behind me and runs her hands over my shoulders, down my chest, and to my belt buckle.

I watch her reflection in the mirror and feel a little jolt when she hits waist level. “More? Already?”

“No, horny boy. I got my fill of you before.” She kisses my temple. “Though there’s no guarantee I won’t want more again later.”

“You
always
want more again later, and I am a very, very lucky man.” I pat her butt.

She pinches my cheeks. “It’s just because you’re so irresistible, Landry. You’re a looker. A real looker, kid.” She flounces across the room and sits on her bed.

Our bed.

We moved into one room so she could have a study while she goes back to get her PhD in library science. She’s a brainiac, big time, and there’s nothing I love more than coming back from a long night at the bar to find her curled up in her leather chair, a book on lap and that faraway, dreamy look in her eyes.

I follow her reflection as she pats her hair and rifles through her drawers. I glance up behind her mirror and see the cartoon I gave her last Christmas, now framed and hanging prominently in our room. I love that it’s the first thing, after Mila, I look at every morning. I reach out and press my fingers to it, over the scene where the two lovers are kissing, the woman’s hands full of the daisies the man gave her.

I stick my hand in my pocket and run a finger over the cool metal, just making sure it’s still there.

“So, one whole year with me. Sick of my face yet?”

It’s a joke. But it’s also not a joke.

I can see her face open up like a flower in bloom when she smiles. “Negative. Now that you’re mine, all mine, I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“And you’re not too weirded out by my family? Because they can
be a lot.” I watch her dump out
a bag of hair things and pick through them with her delicate fingers.

“Are you kidding me? They were the family I needed when I had no one else. They treated me like their own. Especially since Aunt Jenny...” Mila presses her lips together, and I practically kick the chair over getting to her side.

I put an arm around her and press her head on my shoulder. “Shh. I’m sorry, babe. I know it’s hard.”

“She was just so young, you know? Mom, too. My family doesn’t seem to last long.” She’s trying to be funny, failing, and tripping and choking over the words.

I run a hand over the bumps of her braided hair, my gloves snagging pieces that I then try to carefully untangle. “It’s okay. You’re healthy and
fine
and you sort of have to stay that way indefinitely. I need you around.”

She wipes away tears and laughs, a wet, rattly sound. “Oh really? That’s very sensitive, Landry. I’ll be sure to stick around just for you.”

“Good.” I get down on one knee. I had bigger plans, fancier plans, but I love the coziness of this room, our room, where we first fell apart and came back together and now spend every night folded in each other’s arms.

She presses my hair back. “Do you want me to get more gel? I think it’s wearing off, and you need more to hold it back.”

I shake my head and try to wrangle control of my emotions, which are suddenly encountering epic amounts of turbulence. “Mila, I never want us to be apart.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, and leans over to kiss me gently.

“I’m committed to you. To being with you. Loving you. Taking care of you.” I clear my throat and rub my hands on my jeans, my palms a sweaty mess.

She turns her head to one side and really looks at me, taking in my one-kneed stance, my nervous stammering, my constant throat clearing. I know the minute she guesses what’s going on, because she throws a hand over her mouth.

“I know we had a rocky start, and I don’t know for sure that that was the worst time we’ll face. What I do know is, good or bad, I want you by my side.” I stick my hand in my pocket and hear her stifled squeal like it’s coming from the other end of a long tunnel.

“Mila Eby, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. Will you please do me the honor of marrying me?”

I hold the ring out and she reaches to take it with shaking fingers. She turns her wide eyes at me. “Landry. I can’t. This is your mom’s ring. The one your grandmother left her.”

I cup my hands around hers and look her right in the eye.

“I went to my parents to ask for their advice, and my mother insisted that I ask you to marry me with this ring. It’s the ring my grandfather proposed with, and she wanted me to ask you with it. I had some slight alterations made.” I tilt the band, and she looks inside.

“‘Morning without you is a dwindled dawn,’” she reads, her voice breathless. “And the daisies etched inside? It’s Emily Dickinson and the comic. Landry.” She waves her hand in front of her eyes and croaks out, “Damn it! I just put on all this makeup and now I’m going to bawl it all off!”

“So, can I take that as a yes?” I ask, my heart kickboxing in my chest.

“Yes!” She throws her arms around my neck and kisses me on the mouth.

The only thing I want to do is drop her on the bed and roll around naked with her for the rest of the night. But she’s been planning our costume themed New Year’s party for months, so we can’t miss it.