Hitched (19 page)

When I come, it is fast and hard. The horse picks up pace, either at Sebastian's instruction or on her own, I'm not sure. I'm lost in a wave of pleasure as his fingers bring me to a greater and greater climax.

He timed this well. We arrive at a lake, with a large weeping willow tree shading a grassy knoll. I'm still shaking with the aftershocks of my orgasm when he stops and slides off the horse, helping me down. He leads Winnie to the water for a drink, then ties her near some nice looking grass.

I sink into the grass under the shade, my body a noodle after his naughtiness.

But he gives me no time to recover as he moves between my legs and pulls off my shirt. "I missed your tits," he says, freeing them from my bra and tossing it to the side.

"They missed you." I unbuckle his pants and pull them open, freeing his hard, throbbing cock.

Shafts of sunlight sneak through the leaves, warming my breasts as he lays me down and frees me from my jeans and underwear.

Soon we are both naked, the soft grass under us, shaded from the worst of the sun as water laps near our feet and birds sing, the only sounds are of nature and our breathing as he places his cock at the entrance of my pussy.

I love how he feels when he first enters me. That sensation of being stretched and filled, of his hard cock pushing into me until we are one.

And then he pulls me up and onto his lap, both of us sitting up, our chests pressed together, faces inches apart as I ride him, his hips moving in rhythm to mine, and he is so deep I can feel him everywhere. His hands explore my back and hips, tug on my hair, cover my body.

My nails dig into his shoulders. I know he'll have marks later, but I don't care. I can't stop. Everything is building again. It's almost too much. I don't know how my body can contain these feelings, both physical and emotional, as he locks eyes with me, his cobalt blue gaze piercing me as we come together in the shade of his childhood tree.

***

That night I gladly join in, helping to set up tables, decorate and get things ready for the rehearsal dinner on the grand pack porch. It feels good to be doing something familiar. Setting up for parties is my job, after all.

We finish in plenty of time and are enjoying a glass of wine as the sun sets, and guests begin to show up.

And I finally get to meet the elusive Matt.

He arrives just before his uncle and future aunt, wearing torn jeans, a black leather jacket and carrying a motorcycle helmet. He's just as handsome as his brother, with the same blue penetrating eyes, but he carries himself differently, more like he's ready to get into a bar fight at the first opportunity.

When Sebastian introduces us, Matt's eyes wander up and down my body before landing on my eyes. "Nice to meet you," he says, smirking.

I squeeze his hand too hard and smile. "I'd say the same, but I prefer meeting people who don't blatantly disrespect me by deliberately ogling my body before making eye contact."

Clara chokes on the sip of wine she's taking, and Sebastian can't hold in a laugh as his brother drops my hand and frowns for a moment before smiling again. "You're right. That was rude of me. I apologize. It's good to see my brother has found a woman his equal."

I'm surprised by his change of tone, as is everyone else by the looks of it, but Matt ignores us all and pours himself a glass of something decidedly stronger than wine.

"When's the party starting?" he asks.

Sylvia checks her watch. "Within the next ten minutes. You're just in time. I'm glad you could make it."

I'm surprised she doesn't lay on more guilt than that, but then, she doesn't seem the type to use emotional manipulation to get her way. Whatever Matt's issues are, his family seems to have learned to accept him as he is. Warts and all.

***

The dinner is a blur. I meet too many people to remember everyone's names, and though Sebastian’s uncle and his fiancée greet me, they are monopolized by nearly everyone there, so I hang back, not wanting to intrude on their time with family and friends. I don't mind though; it's nice to see Sebastian relaxed around his family. I like watching him laugh at someone's joke or tell a story about something that happened long ago.

The night is magical for me in some unnamable way. There's something about being around this kind of family, the kind of family that loves unconditionally and can laugh together and enjoy spending time with each other. I wish Tate were here to be a part of this, to know that this is even possible.

It's not that our family life was awful. We weren't abused. Our parents loved us and still do. I think the challenge for us both was growing up knowing we didn't fit in at all with the rural Ohio life and the values our family cherished. We never established roots because we both knew from the earliest age that we wouldn't stay. And we didn't. The moment we graduated high school we were out of there, and we haven't gone back for more than the briefest visits.

Our parents didn't pay for our education or any of our expenses. We took out loans, worked our asses off, and lived on ramen noodles and power bars for entire semesters, just to make it to our dreams.

And that's fine. I'm a stronger person because of that journey. But I've never felt as at ease with my own family as I do right now with Sebastian's, and that makes me feel equal parts joy and sadness.

As the dinner winds down, and everyone has memorized where they're supposed to be tomorrow, Sebastian comes over to me, slipping an arm around my shoulder. "Everything okay? You seem quiet."

I rest my head against his chest. "I'm great, actually. Just enjoying this beautiful night. You're lucky you know, to grow up here."

"It's a nice house," he says.

I shake my head. "That's not what I mean. Here, with these people, in this love and joy. Not everyone gets that."

He lifts my chin with his finger and looks into my eyes. "You will always have that with me, Kacie."

***

Over three hundred people have RSVP’d for the wedding. There are tents and chairs everywhere, and the backyard has been transformed into a fairytale landscape by the time I make it downstairs. "I can't believe how much is already done," I say to Clara, who is on breakfast duty this morning. Which, for her, involves pouring coffee and a bowl of cereal.

Works for me.

By late morning Sebastian and I are both dressed and ready to go, as is everyone else in the Donovan family. As guests begin to arrive, I slip into the kitchen to help with moving food and setting up, even though they've hired a catering company to handle everything. I still want to feel useful. I'm not used to being at a party and not working.

The service starts promptly and is short, simple and beautiful. The bride is stunning, and the groom looks so happy his face is about to crack from that smile. I love it.

When they say, “I do,” Sebastian and I glance at each other. And for a fraction of a moment, I have another memory from that night we met. I remember looking into his eyes as we said, “I do.” Just a glimpse of the memory, but the emotions it brings back is enough to take my breath away.

I knew I loved him that night.

That's why I married him.

And I still love him now.

That night, after all the guests have left, I find myself sitting outside at an empty table, plates of half-eaten wedding cake my only company. It's a balmy night, and the white lights that have created such a magical setting for a wedding continue to twinkle in the dark. Sebastian accompanied his dad to take home a few intoxicated guests, so I'm left with my thoughts, which isn't a bad thing.

Surrounded by people all day, mostly strangers, it feels good to grab a few minutes of solitude.

"Kacie, there you are." Sylvia walks out of the house holding two cups of coffee and smiles at me. "We wondered where you'd disappeared to."

"Just enjoying the night," I say.

"Would you prefer to be left alone? Or might I join you?"

I gesture to the seat next to me. "I'd love the company." It's true. I've wanted to spend more time with Sebastian's mother, but it's been such a busy weekend.

She hands me a cup of coffee. "Figured we could all use one after so much champagne and wine."

My head is still a bit buzzed from drinking, and I accept the coffee gratefully. The first sip burns down my throat in that oh-so-delicious way that only coffee can. I sigh with contentment. "This is excellent coffee," I say.

"Thank you. I worked as a barista in college. Guess my time there paid off."

The shock of imagining her working in a coffee shop must have shown in my eyes because she laughed. "We haven't always lived like this. This much opulence... it's a gift, but we started out modest, struggling, like most people."

"Clara said you're the one who made enough for… all this? Through your programming?"

She nods. "Yes. It was a combination of hard work, talent and luck. I had an idea, made it happen and became one of the few female dot-com billionaires of my time."

"I can't imagine growing up like this." To imagine this house as my childhood house seems impossible.

"I can't either, to be honest," she says. "We've tried to instill an ethic of hard work in our kids, to make sure they know not to take this kind of wealth for granted. Clara and Sebastian took to it. Matt… well, he has other challenges, but he's a good kid."

"What was Sebastian like as a kid?" I ask, dying to know more about this man I'm falling in love with.

She offers a sweet smile full of motherly love. "He was always such a nurturer. We weren't surprised when he chose medicine as his vocation, and I was glad, then, that we had the money to get him the best education. I didn't want my kids weighed down by college debt."

"He said it was partly because of Clara's heart condition?"

She takes a sip of her coffee and nods. "Yes, but I think he would have chosen medicine regardless. He definitely picked pediatric heart surgery because of his sister. They were all very young when we found out Clara needed a new heart. She was just a baby, and Matt and Sebastian doted on her as if they'd made her themselves. Those boys fought about everything, even when they were little, but when it came to Clara, they found common ground. They'd do anything to protect her."

Her words sound thick, and her eyes gloss over as she discusses the past. "It was a close call. We almost lost her. It was then that Sebastian came to us with his plan. With a little face so serious, he told us he'd decided to donate his heart to Clara so she could live." Her voice chokes at this, and I can feel tears burn the back of my eyes as well.

"He said he knew he couldn't live without a heart, but he was okay with that. He'd had a longer life, he argued. And he wanted his sister to have that too."

I lay my hand on hers, and she squeezes it and half-smiles at me. "Of course our hearts broke at this, and we had to tell him that's not how it worked, that people who are still alive and healthy can't donate organs they need to survive. You should have seen his face when he realized he couldn't save Clara. I cried myself to sleep that night, for all of our children. But the next day, we received our miracle. They found a donor for Clara."

Someone else had to die to give up that heart. I'm sure that's a thought that weighs on Clara and her family. What a blessing that person and their family gave to save the life of a stranger.

"When Clara came home the first night with her new heart, Sebastian insisted we get him a stethoscope so he could listen to it. Again, with his very serious little boy face, he put it on and held it up to her heart. After a few moments, he took it off and smiled. ‘Her heart is strong,’ he said. ‘She's going to be okay.’"

"Sebastian never told me any of this," I say, picturing it all so clearly in my mind.

"I'm not surprised. He's very private with some things in his life. That was a challenging time for all of us, something we don't often revisit."

"How did you manage it all?" I ask. "Three kids, one of whom was so sick, a husband, and such an intense career."

"The way you handle anything," she says. "Every day I made choices about how to prioritize my time. There were times, when Clara was the most sick, that my work took second place to being with my children. But there were also times when work drove me. I didn't always do it well, the work or the family stuff, but I did the best I could with what I had. My husband has always been very supportive, both as a husband and a father, and he knew when he married me that my career mattered a lot, and I would need time and attention to build it."

"Did he mind? That you had this career that ended up making more than he does?"

She laughs. "Not in the least. He's never been one to care much about money. He was just glad we didn't go broke from the medical bills. He's always appreciated the privileges my career has given us, even if it's not something he would have sought for himself."

"Do you think Sebastian is like his father in that way?"

She smiles knowingly and pats my hand. "If you're worried that Sebastian will put his career before yours, don't. I know my son, and he would want the woman he marries to have her own life, her own dreams and hopes and aspirations. And I also know that he's hoping that woman is you."