To Catch a Falling Star (36 page)

MY FINGERS FEROCIOUSLY scratch at the itchy patch of my chest. Then, through the window, I see Mel on the upper deck and relief courses through me. Sleeping with her in my arms was heaven and waking to her absence was hell.

I take the time to study her. She has a blanket tightly wrapped around her body and her eyes are lost to the horizon. Did she regret being here with me? Is it guilt or thoughts of her deceased husband that took her away from my bed? I don’t know. My relationship with Mel makes me feel like I’m dancing on a minefield. First, because she is the first woman I’m in this deep. Second, because I question if lust is the only basis for our relationship at Mel’s end. Can she ever forget her deceased husband? I’ve never worried about a woman’s feelings for me before. It’s exhausting.

I pick up the phone and call Carl. “Please send two hot cocoas to the upper deck.” Then, I push open the door and walk to her.

“Are you okay?” I ask cautiously.

Her eyes meet mine and her lips turn up in a smile. I release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“Isn’t it a bit cold for you to be up here?” I ask.

“Why don’t to keep me warm?” She scoots over.

Anxious for the comfort of her closeness, I sit with her between my legs. She leans against me, and I envelop her with my blanket forming our very own cocoon.

Her body shivers and I wonder if the freezing temperature or my presence caused that. I tighten the hold my arms and legs have around her and immediately the peace of her presence wraps around me.

“I want to see the sun rise. I’ve never been on the open ocean before.”

“You had me worried when I woke up and I couldn’t find you.”

“Really? It’s not like I could run—or rather swim—away,” she says.

“Well, I was looking forward to seducing you first thing in the morning,” I say, kissing the sweet spot behind her ear.

“You can still seduce me.” She squirms and my dick becomes hard.

My hand navigates through the layers of covers and the robe she wears, finally to find her pussy.

“Oh, look who is going commando?” I ask, biting her earlobe.

“You’re such a negative influence on me.”

Cupping her sweet pussy, I whisper. “It saves precious time—” The deck door opens, startling Mel. I smile when she turns to Carl. Her face is an adorable shade of pink from a combination of the cold wind, our recent action, and embarrassment. I tighten my hold of her and smile.

“Bonjour, Mr. Francis and madam.” He places the tray with the steaming liquid on the table and discreetly retreats inside the boat. I hand her a cup.

“You think of everything. You’re creating a monster, spoiling me like this.”

“Nothing can ever give me more pleasure than to spoil you, Mel,” I say. Yes, I’m a pussy-whipped son of a bitch.

Before she answers me, I point to the line that separates the ocean from the face of the sky. The red ball of fire makes the same entrance it has performed for millions of years, but it remains a unique and remarkable sight.

“Whoa, baby. It’s worth the cold to see this,” she murmurs.

My heart constricts from the wonder of this moment. Wisps of light strike the dark water, creating thousands of reflections. They pierce my entire being with an abnormal ferocity. I’m quiet. Any sound would ruin this majestic moment.

Portia has nothing on me. It’s official, Mel and Dan have brainwashed me. And, to my surprise and delight, I want never to go back to my insipid existence of before.

“Grandpa said he and Grandma, like bald eagles, mated for life. Do you believe it’s possible?” I ask.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Tarry.”

She places her cup and mine on the table and straddles me. “But I know I need you inside me. Right now,” she says and kisses my lips. Her warm lips taste of chocolate and her warm cunt is soft as velvet against my rock-hard cock.

Her hair falls over her shoulders and radiates with the dawn light. Her eyes are the same shade of fire as the rising sun. It’s a sublime sight. I guide her hips until her core finds my dick. With a moan, she lowers herself deep and greedy, and then she withdraws slowly, just to slide down leisurely. My breath is harsh. Mel’s hand grabs my arms. She sounds feral and sensual. There is a new texture to her that I can’t identify. She is desperate; as if this is the last time we are mating. I spread my hand over her gorgeous ass and my mouth seeks her nipples. Her generous tits are hard and sweet under my tongue. Her hands tangle my hair. I feel drunk from Mel. Invincible. Immortal.

Half the covers slide down exposing our bare bodies to the cold wind. Unfazed, we continue as prisoners to our desperate need to consume each other. I know what I believe and I know that once I mated with her, there can never be anyone else for me. The exhilarating rush of being with Mel transcends everything I’ve experimented in my life.

As Mel rides me, the sun shines upon us and promises guidance with its light. I’m in deep shit.

With a shudder, Mel lets out a guttural moan as her body succumbs to pleasure. I keep her hips moving, and I follow her to a mind-fuck orgasm. Before I finish riding the wave of pleasure, I’m already concerned about when I’m going to claim Mel again. God, this drug is more potent than anything else I ever used. Combined.

With my face buried in the valley between her breasts, we remain connected until our heart rates return to normal.

“I wish we could stay here, tucked away, just the two of us,” she says.

“We can,” I respond.

“My cover is only good until after lunch. Pop knows I can barely sleep before getting Ella.”

“Why can’t we tell them?”

“Let’s not ruin what we’ve got. Let’s just enjoy it.”

“What time do you want to go back?”

“How far are we from the shore?”

“About an hour.”

“We still have a few hours. Is that a hot tub?” she asks with a mischievous smile. I push my disappointment aside and grin. “Yep.”

“Hmmm, I never used a hot tub in the open sea.” She bites her lower lip and it’s the most seductive thing I’ve seen in my life.

BETWEEN FURTIVE KISSES, stolen hugs, and secretive stares, the trees become bare, the days get shorter, and the nights colder. Tarry proves to be infallible at the art of keeping me warm during the dead of winter.

The holidays arrive and pass in a blur. Thanksgiving is fun. We serve at the homeless shelter, but Tarry doesn’t help. Portia thinks it would be too much publicity and attract paparazzi to the area.

At Christmas, Tarry agrees to exchange small gifts. He gives me a pair of pearl earrings encrusted with diamantes, which had belonged to his grandmother. He claims I never specified small, as in price.

I gift him a vinyl record autographed by Nina Simone. Yes, it cost me a small fortune.

Tarry claims the rules don’t apply to Ella and he gets her a ton of toys. He also gets her front-row tickets and backstage passes to a Big Time Rush concert. She can even bring a friend. Needless to say, she is elated.

I take each day as it comes. I resist the constant need to overthink what is happening between us. I know the day he will leave to LA is coming, but I block those thoughts and savor every single second we spend together.

His counseling is going better than we expected. Dad has only praise when I ask about Tarry’s progress. Tarry will graduate from the counseling with Dad in the first week of January, which is also the same week he is due back in court.

I’m proud of Tarry. He has gained weight, quit smoking, and his hair has grown long enough for me to braid it.

Shaving Tarry’s’ beautiful face became my unspoken duty. He doesn’t say anything, but he gets a kick out of it. Men are silly creatures.

We spend every night together when I’m not on duty. He slips in my bed late at night—we make love and he leaves before dawn. I know it’s a huge risk to have him spend the night with me. I don’t want Ella to know. However, I don’t have the will to deny him.

Each night before falling asleep, we spend hours talking. Tarry tells me funny stories of growing up in a castle in France with his grandfather. His eyes became distant when he told me of finding his grandfather dead. He was five years old when he lost the only person who cared for him.

Tarry is the most fascinating person I have met. His soul is kind and behind the persona of a bad-boy rock star hides a sad and lost boy. No wonder Portia is so protective.

At times, Tarry tries to talk about our relationship. I divert the conversation, avoiding it as if it is the plague. He acts as if we are a normal couple who have a future. I’m a confident woman. But when it comes to Tarry, I’m a puddle of goo. In addition, I don’t believe for a second on a future between us. One glance at him and me, and anyone would agree. Tarry, besides being a rock star, is so handsome that it hurts to look at him. But more importantly, the reason I conceal us is Ella.

When Tim died, I swore I would not become those mothers parading a stream of boyfriends before their children. It’s just not fair to the kids.

I stare in the full-length mirror. The white dress is elegant and beautiful with sheer, glittery material that covers my shoulders. But I hesitate and wonder if I should wear it. The couture dress is simple, until you see the back, or the lack of a back. The fabric reappears at the small of my back. I think of Tarry’s consuming eyes, push away my self-conscious feelings, grab my jacket, and go in search of Ella.

Ella also wears a simple white dress. She spins in front of me. “I’m ready,” she says.

“Do you want lip gloss?” I ask.

“Yes, Mommy.” She is perfectly still.

“There, you look so beautiful,” I say after applying the lip gloss.

“Our white dresses match. We are like twins, Mommy.” She smiles broadly.

“Yes, Ella. Just like twins.” I hold her hand. “Let’s go.”

We are going to Will’s for a huge New Year’s party. Nillie and her family are even in town for it.

As I drive by the barn, I see the lights are out. Tarry has left already. My inside does its familiar somersault in anticipation of seeing him. Though we spent last night together, he spent the entire day with Nillie and Portia. I miss him like crazy.

I park besides Mr. McGee’s black Mercedes and we walk to the front door.

“Is Noah here?” Ella asks.

“Yeah, he is.” I’m surprised Ella remembers Nillie’s son. It’s been almost a year since they visited.

Without knocking, I push the door open. I hear the buzz of conversation and scan the room for Tarry. He is nowhere.

“Mom, I’m going to go find Dominick and Noah,” Ella tells me over her shoulder. A heady aroma of cinnamon laces the air. With this pregnancy, Portia has eaten nothing but cinnamon.

I place a dessert tray on the kitchen counter and hug Portia, who is arranging shrimps on a platter.

“Finally, we were getting worried,” she says. I can hear the innuendo at her voice, but I ignore it.

“Sorry for being late.”

“Well, help yourself to anything to eat. We’re eating buffet-style. The appetizers are on the table. Dinner will be served soon.”

“What you need me to do?” I ask.