CHERISH (2 page)

Listening to her cum, knowing I did that for her, even after all the orgasms she’s had in the last few months, it still makes me feel like a fucking god. I want to give her the best, every time, to make sure she never, ever thinks of anyone else.

With the sun rising above the horizon, the sky lights up pink and orange. And it hits me that we've just moved from our wedding night into our first morning as husband and wife.

“Good morning, Mrs. Henderson.” I let my thumb slip from her tight hole, listening to her sigh when I do. My other hand comes up to graze down that perfect indent of her spine, watching the goose bumps rise on her heated skin as I traverse downward. Her hair’s a mass of waves and curls held on the top of her head in a sex-messy knot.

“Good morning,
Mr
. Henderson.” She giggles and wiggles her ass, my never-say-die dick staying as deep as he can as she leans back against my chest and her hair catches in the day-old scruff on my face.

“Nothing will ever come between us.” The combination of our fluids drip down and soak the sheets under my ass. I love making her this wet. This dirty. Full of me. “You are mine, forever, you understand that don’t you?” Promise sighs and I don’t wait for an answer. “I’ll give you anything and everything you want, babe. But, I’ll love you so much, you’ll never need anything, I promise.”

Beckett

There is no fucking way this is happening. I’m going to kill Louis. Track him down and murder him in fifty, fucking painful ways.

But right now Promise is the only thing I care about.

She looks like I feel, like a train just came down the tracks and took her along with it. Her face revealing a mixture of pain and utter disbelief.

I can't find the right words.

“Babe,”
I say, but the word must have been silent because there is no visible reaction from her.

The chaos of her suitcase sits on the bed. Tousled lumps of clothes, ready for a honeymoon that will never happen. Like someone hit the pause button on the happy ending to your favorite movie.

I should be fucking my wife six ways ‘til Sunday right now, that’s what we should be doing. My anarchist dick doesn’t seem to give a shit about anything else; he just wants what’s his.

A low hum comes from the air ducts over our heads, but it can't drown out the triple time beats of my heart, racing in my chest. It rises until I can feel the stabbing pressure behind each eye.

“Babe, look, I . . .” I let the words hang in the air.

What can I possibly say to her that would make any difference right now?

Promise raises her eyes, but she doesn’t look my way. She looks at the door to the apartment. We haven’t opened it since the fire. It’s still padlocked shut, the master key in the hands of the fire marshal. She's just staring at the door. Louis said he would send a crew over while we were in Fiji. Disaster control. Get it back to new. Only the investigator has no intention of opening it back up. And now we know why.

She’s just staring at the door, her hands moving randomly like she herself doesn't even know what to do with them. She reaches up and one hand goes to her neck. Her fingertips shake as she starts to
zip-zip-zip
the tiny gold cross back and forth on the chain.

Detective Northrup’s voice is still echoing in the high ceilings and in my head. Two minutes ago he was at the front door, blowing up what was going to be the sweetest, breeding sex fest Fiji’d ever seen. My dick primed and ready to fill her sweet cunt with as much cum as it would take to secure my baby inside her. Instead, four little words: Jordan, Louis, plane, and Cairo, have all but destroyed our little honeymoon dreams.

Promise’s eyes are doe-like and spilling over with silent tears. I try to catch her gaze, try to grab it and hold her eyes while I lean against the metal door.

Our own dreams of happily ever after filled with tropical water the color of her eyes, a hut on stilts, my tongue mapping every inch of her body are still fresh. But the detective just destroyed all of that. My plans for hours spent lapping between her legs, for sinking every inch of me into every warm ripe place . . . those plans are now a distant memory.

And over everything hangs this fucking cloud that is Louis. I want to rip his throat out with my bare hands, but I can't leave her. Even though I'm fighting the rising darkness. Even when my vision starts to tunnel, I know I have to stay.

The two strides separating me from Promise feels like a chasm. She’s right. I told her to sign that custody agreement; I told her Louis was an upright guy—the one I trusted most in this fucked up world.

Seems like shit keeps coming home to roost on my doorstep, because this is some fucked up, next level bullshit that I didn’t see coming.

I cross the space between us, then hesitate. Her opal blue eyes narrow, her gaze coming to rest on my face. Her lips tighten.

“Promise, I’m sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.”

All I can think of is having her next to me, in my arms. I pull her into my chest and her body stiffens. I don’t give a shit; she can push back, she can punch and bite and scratch. I’m not going anywhere.

Her hair smells like coconut and ginger my thoughts turn to of being naked in that little hut for the next two weeks. Even with the shit storm that just landed around us, my mind is still obsessed with it. Still wrapped around how I wanted to make sure there would be a baby in her belly before we got back stateside.

Now that little dream is over. Fucked. I count off the fucked up shit in my head. Her piece-of-shit mother has turned up. Louis is off to fucking
Cairo
with Jordan, and I have no fucking idea why.

And from the look in Promise’s eyes, she is about to go nuclear on my ass.

“How is this . . .” she sobs. “How is this happening? We have to follow them. Right?” She is muttering into my chest and I squeeze her against me until I hear her groan in discomfort and fear. “We have to follow them . . . Beck, we have to.”

“Babe, we’re getting him back,” I say with as much certainty as I can. “Let’s get down to the station first. See if anything your mother says proves helpful. Fuck, are you even ready to see your mom? Or we could keep her separate from you. You tell me what you need, babe, I’ll make it happen.” I release my crushing hold on her because it’s been more than a few seconds since I felt her breathe.

“I can’t . . . I can't believe she’s here.” Her voice turns to stone, cold and emotionless. She shakes her head vigorously. “I don't want to see her. I can't.”

“Not a problem. I’ll make sure you don’t have to look at her.”

“But I do want to see her, maybe, I think. Oh, I don't know, it's just so hard.” The stone cracks and my little girl is melting against me, and now I’m the one who can’t take a breath. The weight of her life is on my chest—all the times I promised her I would never let anyone hurt her again.

I can’t be another disappointment to her. My lips come down to rest on the top of her head. I kiss her and breathe in her tropical scent. I'm trying to slow my heart, but it's not working.

“How can I see her? I have nothing to say and so much I want to say, and I’m afraid if I see her I’ll—” She turns her face and presses it into my chest, her hands covering her cheeks. “I don't know!” she screams.

“I’ll be right there. Babe, I'll be there with you if you want to see her. But I’ll tell you right now, if shit gets crazy and she unleashes on you or I even think you’ve had enough . . .” I take a breath, steadying my fury. “If I think you need out, I’m pulling you. You can kick and scream, but I’m not letting her hurt you. Not anymore.”

“This is all so crazy. It’s like I’m not allowed to be happy. Or Jordan. Like we’re cursed.” She shakes her head. “Jordan. Why Cairo? God, Beck, what are we going to do? I have to get him back. I have to. Why wouldn’t Louis tell us? It’s something bad. It has to be something bad. If it wasn’t he would have told us. Would have let us know.” Her voice shakes and my heart is aching for her.

“We will get him back. I fucking promise you Jordan is going to be all right.” I tighten my grip around her shoulders, giving her the sense that I know what I'm doing. But my mind is spinning trying to decide how to fix this.

Promise pushes back against my hold, wriggling and straining to unlock my arms. She lets out a low grunt as her body twists and I loosen a few inches so that I won't hurt her, but I can't let her go. Not completely.

“We need to go,” Her voice is hard. “Come on, we need to get moving.” But it's like the strain of movement does something to her and she breaks.

There is a second of pause before I hear the worst sound in the world—one I swore I would do everything I could to never have to hear again. The heels of her palms dig into my chest as she pushes away with all her strength. The raw sobs start and I feel like I might crumple to the ground.

She spins and her ivory colored hair flies in an arc as she turns her head, wrenching away from me, breaking the last of our physical contact as tears glisten against her flushed cheeks.

I don't know what to say, but I have to say something. “I don’t know what the fuck Louis is doing. But I
know
him.” Even as the words leave my lips I’m confused by them. I can't believe I'm defending him. But in my heart, I know that it's true. I know Louis. “There’s got to be some reason; he cannot be some evil mastermind. I would have seen it.”

Promise is in mid-step, but she stops. She was going for the bed, for her suitcase, but now her fingers are rubbing over her cheeks.

“How well do you really know anyone?” Her frustration comes out as anger. “Beck,
you're
the one that said you didn’t know anyone outside of your SEAL brothers.
You
said that. Have you ever met Louis’s family? Has he ever
talked
about family? A girlfriend? His past? I mean, what do you really
know
?” Her voice is desperate. The words come out in chokes between the tears and it hurts because she’s right.

But, I’ve changed. She’s changed me. I hate the distance in her voice.

We've come so far together, but now she’s pulling back and I can see how easily she could slip away. She needs to know how much she means to me. She needs to know that I will never allow this to end. We are bound to each other and I will never let her go. Never.

“Come on. Babe, come on.” I take a few steps, grab her tangerine-colored pea coat from the corner of the bed. The same bed I wanted to taste her in–to
fuck
her in–one last time before we left for the airport. The fucking knock at the door put an end to that.

I bring the coat to her shaking shoulders. I want to scoop her up, carry her through whatever it is we have to face. In the next hour, in the next week, I don't know. All I know is everything she's ever wanted is on me, and I have to figure a way out.

I lean down next to her ear. “Baby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Me too.” She tilts her head away and her eyes narrow as she stares up at me, still brimming with tears. “I
told
you. Some people don’t get happy endings. People like
us
. It’s my own stupid fault for being sucked into this fairy tale. It was never going to work out.”

I’m not going down this road with her. No fucking way. “We
are
a happy ending, Promise. We
will
get Jordan back. Look, we don’t know what’s going on yet. Look at me and tell me you don't believe it. Tell me that I will not breathe fire and destroy worlds to make you happy.” She looks at me, looks at my eyes then at my scar. “Fixing this . . . whatever the fuck this is with Jordan and Louis . . . is going to happen. I promise.”

She swallows hard and I grip her shoulders. Even in this moment, I want her. I want to carve into her and take all of this away. I don’t remember a conscious moment since I laid eyes on her again that somewhere in my fire-seared brain my dick wasn’t trying to take over the more rational, civilized parts of me.

She nods, and I can feel that her doubt is diminishing. She's starting to think more clearly. “Is Louis
from
Cairo? I mean
why
Cairo?”

“I think so, maybe, yeah. I mean, I remember him saying something about growing up there. I know he had a wicked life. Grew up on the streets I think. I don’t think he had any sort of family. The way he talked. That’s why he got involved at CPS.” I think back through our conversations. “He said once that there was no safety net for kids like him where he was from. He knew how it felt to be thrown away like garbage.”

I set my lips on hers, holding them there, soft and warm. I need to feel her breathe. I have the urge to slip my tongue through her lips but even I know now’s not the time.

We stay like that for a few seconds, my thumbs tracing softly over her jawbone until I feel her shoulders drop. For a second, the tension releases and she kisses me back with a stifled breath. I remember the little gifts I bought, the three white velvet bags—two in my suitcase and one in my back pocket. I planned to give her a gift each day for the first week of our marriage. I was going to make her moan and cum a thousand ways for the next two weeks.

My gut wrenches, knowing that it's all gone. I feel empty inside, despite the hotel breakfast we feasted on just a few hours ago.