Chapter 16

It was their wedding day. Staring at himself in the full-length mirror, Flynn adjusted his bow tie and realized, to his amusement, that he was trembling. Nerves, he thought, dismissing the flashback to the past when one woman had thrown him over for another. This was different; it felt different, too.

Ryleigh Andrea Bogle was different, enticingly so, wonderfully seductive and beautiful, and she was also blunt and forthright. She said exactly what was on her mind.

He had finally forgiven his uncle and invited him over to meet the love of his life. The man had oozed charm, taking her hand in his eyes and wandering over Ryleigh's exquisite face.

Flynn had felt the familiar insecurity tearing through his gut, but it had been for nothing. She had simply regarded him with that amused look of hers and pulled her hand away.

Later that night, she confessed that he reminded her of an oily salesman and an insincere one. "Your ex must have been a colossal idiot. Oh well, her loss, my gain."

"I am not a damn prize." he had growled, wholly disarmed by her words.

"Are you not?" She had climbed on top of him and claimed her prize.

He stood in front of the mirror, fiddling with his tie. He was getting married, and this time, the woman was for real. He knew she would never step out on him and that she would love him until they were no longer on this earth.

A sudden movement in the doorway made him turn around.

"Your mother said I should come and fetch you." Lionel still regarded him with some caution as if expecting him to clout him one. But Flynn felt generous and forgiving. He could afford to be; he was marrying the woman who meant the world to him.

"I am ready," he told him briefly. Picking up the carnation, he tucked it through his lapel and rechecked his hair before heading for the door.

"Can we talk for a minute?"

Hiding his impatience, Flynn spared the older man a glance. Jerking his head, he gave his attention. "You have five minutes."

"I only need three." Shoving his hands into the pockets of his well-tailored ash-gray dress pants. He had been invited to the ceremony but was not part of the wedding party. Flynn's forgiveness has extended to so far and is no longer.

"I screwed up."

"Yes."

Rocking back on his heels, Lionel eyed his nephew warily. He had been welcomed back into the fold, but a coolness between him and the younger man was apparent.

"I wanted to prove something to myself. I was selfish and stupid. You made a fortune single-handedly and had women eating out of your hands. I was offered a position in the company because of nepotism-"

"If you believe that, you do not know me." The coolness in Flynn's voice had turned icy.

"I always wondered if you felt sorry for me-"

"Why the hell would I do that? I run a business and did not get where I am by doling out jobs because I feel sorry for an individual. I hired you because you have so-called charms and a certain way with people. You had been doing very well before you made a mess of things."

"And now I am back. Where am I going to be placed? Or is this a trial basis? If you are afraid, I am going to repeat history-"

His nephew's genuine laughter had him stopping.

"You are not Ryleigh's type or ever will be. She loves me completely, and I have learned to believe that." Flicking a dismissive look at his uncle, he turned towards the door. "My bride awaits."

*****

The manor had been the chosen venue for the ceremony. Landscapers had worked feverishly to bring the already immaculate landscape, the rolling grounds, to one of a fairytale ambiance.

Julia had been given carte blanche and took her role seriously by hiring the best. It was mid-June, a perfect time for a wedding, with the weather not too hot.

A pleasant chill in the air allowed the more than one hundred guests to remain comfortably seated on the lush green lawn to the east of the manor. A dais was erected, and a live band was playing something jazzy.

The brilliance of the budding flowers—gardenias, roses, daffodils, delicate orchids, wild daisies, and buttercups—was perfect for the lush greenness of the trees, lending their shades to the invited guests. A red carpet had been placed squarely in the middle of the white lawn chairs, and every seat was occupied.

Standing at the front, with his hands folded, Flynn showed no outward signs of inner turmoil. He wasn't afraid that his bride would not show; he was anxious to get the ceremony over and done with.

The ultrasound confirmed they had a son, and Ryleigh was already picking out colors and discussing them with his mother. He was getting married, and they were having a son. He was cautiously happy, even though he felt like he would burst from it.

The music changed suddenly, alerting them to the bride's arrival. He found himself holding his breath as he trained his eyes to where she would be coming from. The guests stood, turning sideways for their first glimpse of the bride.

His breath whooshed out as he stared at the vision gliding towards him. The dress was not white but a delicate blend of lime green and champagne.

The style was deceptively simple, with the bodice hugging her full breasts and flaring at the waist to cover her ‘baby bump.' The skirt drifted from the waist to a little above her knees. She was wearing heels to add height to her petite frame. Her hair was loose around her face, and she wasn't wearing a veil or anything else on her head.

Diamonds sparkle at her lobes, around her neck, and on her right wrist. And she was smiling at him. The tension eased out of him, and he barely had the patience to wait for her to join him. Giving her mother a faint smile, he squeezed his bride's hand gently. She was his.

*****

Several tables had been set up on the lawn, and the weather held. The guests were seated, and after taking dozens of photos to memorialize the ceremony, the bride and groom were seated at the head table enjoying the sumptuous meal.

Keeping a watchful eye on his wife- Flynn felt something shifting inside him as an unfamiliar word. ‘His wife.' Ryleigh was now Mrs. Flynn Zimmermann.

She was entirely his. They had pledged their love and loyalty to each other in front of God and over a hundred people. Their lives were sealed together, the bond complete. For a few minutes, the emotions veering crazily through his body threatened to overwhelm him.

"Flynn?" As if sensing what he was going through, Ryleigh tugged at the hand covering hers.

"Yes?" He had to clear his throat to answer.

"Are you okay?"

"No." Leaning towards her, he murmured something in her ear that had her breath backing up inside her chest. Before she could utter a word, they had to cut the cake.

Rising, he slid back her chair and guided her towards the table, where a towering work of art was placed in the middle. The pink champagne cake, with flowers decorated at the sides, had been created by a local bakery especially for the bride.

They fed each other and sipped a little champagne before it was time for him to speak.

"I met this wonderful woman at a particular time when I thought there was nothing for me but work." He glanced at her, his smile tender and whimsical. He was holding her hand, and it was the most natural thing he could do. He needed physical intimacy to remind him that they now belonged to each other.

"Suffice it to say that it did not take long for her and me to form an attachment, but it was not that simple. Attachment is too tame a word for what we mean to each other.

For what she means to me." His hand tightened on hers. "I spent years building a business that took my time and effort. It was the most important thing to me until you." Tugging her hand gently, he waited until she was standing facing him.

"I love you," he told her softly, eyes mirroring his emotions. "Even that is too tame a word for how I feel. I made vows to you, ones I intend to keep for as long as I draw breath." Pulling her into his arms, he belatedly realized he had not thanked their guests for coming. When he addressed that, the laughter and applause were thunderous.

*****

"You are at it again." Flynn approached the soft white recliner she was sitting on with several fabrics strewn over her lap. They had been married for a month, but it felt like it was just yesterday.

She was seven months pregnant and spent most of her time attending the nursery. Dr. Whyte had warned that the baby could come at any minute, and they should be prepared. Thankfully, no more episodes required her to stay in bed.

"What do you think?" Holding up the swatch of material, she waited for him to answer.

"I think we should go for a swim." Removing the fabrics away, he dumped them on the table next to the chair and lifted her into his arms.

"Flynn, I am not finished." She protested.

"I am afraid you are." He kissed her noisily as he strode from the room. "Mother told me you have been harassing the poor decorator."

Wrapping her hands around his neck, she gave him a wry look. "That's because she will not follow instructions."

"You have changed your mind five times already." he bounded down the stairs with her securely held against him. They passed several staff members on their way out and were greeted with smiles. The ever-vigilant Greaves was there to sweep the doors open with a bow.

Clearing the porch, Flynn bounded down the steps, his long strides taking them toward the shimmering blue water of the octagonal pool. The area around the pool was lush and vibrant, with flowers in full bloom.

The pool house had been power washed, and the whiteness of the exterior was in stark contrast to the green foliage. Shrubberies, trimmed to perfection, hid them from view and let him strip off the shirt and ash gray dress pants he had worn to the office.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" he asked her calmly as he unzipped his pants.

"Flynn Zimmermann, it's still light out. Someone might see us."

"Who?" Grinning at her, he flung the pants over the back of the chaise and took off his underwear and socks. His sex was full and drew her attention to it.

Leaning over, he took off the dress she had on as well as her panties.

"We can't."

"Says who?" Picking her up, he strode over to the base of the pool, and before she realized what he was doing, he jumped off, the impetus sending them almost to the bottom. She barely had time to suck in her breath before being covered with water.

He brought them back up, with her spluttering hair covering her face. Using one hand to push back the sodden strands, she glared at him, fluttering her lashes to get rid of the water.

"Are you mad?"

"You swim like a fish." he pointed out with a grin. Letting go of her, he kept his arm around her waist as her feet touched his. The amusement faded from his face as her middle bumped against him.

"No." She whispered.

"Yes." he mouthed the word as his head came towards hers. "Hold onto me." He whispered hoarsely. Ryleigh felt the familiar sensations racing through her body. Their love life was combustible, like a kindling set on fire, and they did not have to take a touch to ignite the flame.

His long, lean torso was pressing against her. The nipples were already distended, rubbing against his chest and sending waves of intense desire pouring through her.

He lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist as he threaded water. His mouth met hers at the same time; he drove into her, fingers biting into her hips as he held her still.

The water swirled around them, the warmth of it reaching past their waists. Birds were chirping, the sound of squirrels scampering up tree trunks. But they were not aware of any of it. They were lost in each other. His thrusts became demanding and hungry. His lips plundered hers, passion escalating to fever-pitch intensity.

They were also unaware that Julia was making her way towards the pool, having been told by Greaves that they were there. But she was brought up short, her breath lodging inside her throat as she stared at the couple. It was a little past nine, but it was still light enough for her to see what was happening.

Retreating, she took several steps back before turning around and heading back to the house. A smile burst on her lips, and she felt like she was walking on air.

"See to it that they are not disturbed." She instructed Greaves as he opened the doors.

*****

"What if someone saw us?" She fretted as he wiped her down with the towel. "I don't care."

"I do."

"Prude," he whispered, easing the towel between her thighs and taking his time there.

"I am not an exhibitionist." her breath came out as a gasp as he stroked the sensitive nubbin.

"So, I see." His head lifted to watch her face. He loved to see the expression on her face when she was reacting to his touch. "But I am positive that no one would dare come around to disturb us."

"Your mother-"

"Knows better." Moving the towel from between her thighs, he wiped it over her belly, his stomach tied up in knots at the bump there. "He is moving."

"Yes. He does that all the time now." Placing a hand over his, they both went still as the movements continued. "He is like an energizing bunny. Makes it impossible for me to fall asleep."

His eyes lifted to hers, and words were not needed. His emotions were stark on his face, and what she saw there overwhelmed her.

‘Flynn-"

"Do you know how much I love you?" His voice was thick, heavy with emotions, his face harsh and taut. "What wouldn't I do for you?"

"Like threatened Maurice Daley?"

His eyes flared at that. The subject had not come up, and he had not revealed what he had done to her, but she was smart enough to figure it out.

"I would kill him if he hurt one hair on your head."

Her heart bumped against her ribs as she realized he was stating a fact.

"I am an officer of the court-"

"And I am your husband, the father of the child you are carrying. You are the love of my life; my life revolves around you." his hand slid down to cup her sex and had her arching against his palm. "I cannot breathe when I am with you." he slipped a finger into the wet warmth of her and slid in a little at a time, his eyes intent on her face.

Her lips were parted, her bottom lifting off the chaise to desperately meet his finger. She almost went mad when he withdrew it altogether. "Do you understand?" His breath was soughing through his chest, his body hot.

"Yes. Please." Gripping his hand, she tried to force his fingers back inside her. He did, slipping in two, driving deep into her until her back bowed in reaction. When he removed them again, she clawed at him, but he simply slid down until his face was mashed against the soft, downy hairs covering her flesh.

Ryleigh did not care about anyone seeing them. It did not matter to her one bit. Nothing mattered except the man driving her to madness. He inhaled her musky scent, tongue touching the swollen flesh.

When he started toying with it, she knew she could not bear any more. Her cry echoed around the stillness, sending birds screeching into the air when he plunged his tongue deep into her. She came violently, the climax slamming into her body with the suddenness of a volcano.

Before her trembling subsided, he was on top of her, driving into her and sending her flying again.

He came shortly after, flooding the mouth of her womb with his seed, his head buried at the side of her neck. Sliding off her when he could, he wrapped his arms around her and cradled her against his chest, where his heart was thundering like a trip hammer.

Her tears were soaking his chest, her body quivering. Shifting slightly, he tilted her chin up, his chest clogged by the emotions shuddering through his body.

"I love you." She whispered achingly.

"I know," he whispered back shakily. "My love."

*****

Eight months and two weeks. Thirty-four weeks, as the doctors termed it. Their son was two weeks early. One day, she was going about her business, tying up some final things at the DA's office to take her maternity leave, and the next, she was in pain, awful, excruciating pain that had sent her flying from the bed and waking him in the process.

He had wasted no time asking her what was wrong but had simply helped her with her clothing and grabbed her bag while calling the doctor.

The labor had taken a hell of a long time, enough to drive him clear out of his mind.

But finally, their son - Michael Anthony, was here, and both mother and baby were cleared to return home in a day. Their son was three days old, and neither Flynn nor his mother could stop hovering around the baby.

Her best friend Michael had become emotional and highly honored to have the baby named after him and even more grateful that he was the baby's godfather.

Now, they were alone in the quiet of the night. Their son was finally sleeping, but his parents were still standing by the side of his cot, staring at the miracle they had created.

He was sleeping on his back, one tiny fist bunched up next to the left side of his head. His hair was ink black, and his complexion creamy. His eyes were a light golden brown, and he had inherited his father's chin and nose.

"He is so beautiful," she whispered in a hushed tone. His sleep pattern was erratic, as predicted by the doctor. "Sleep when he does," Dr. Whyte had instructed her. She was still trying to get the hang of breastfeeding him but had been given lessons by the nurse.

Wrapping her hands around her waist, Flynn drew her against him, his head buried in her hair. "Thank you." He told her hoarsely.

The wait for their baby was the longest and scariest. He had felt his heart weakening as he held her hand and supported her throughout the ordeal.

Turning her head, she smiled at him. "You are most welcome."

"It's time for bed." Swinging her into his arms, he turned out the light and entered their suite. A video monitor had been installed in almost all the rooms to alert them whenever their son was awake and needing attention.

Placing her on the bed, he climbed in next to her and held her against him.

"It feels weird." She finally said.

"What does?" Tipping his head down, he looked at her as she lifted her face towards his.

"We started out being just casual strangers who meant nothing to each other except the arrangement we made."

"I have thanked my mother several times, but somehow it's not enough." he tucked her hair away from her cheek. "It will never be enough."

Her hand lifted to touch his chin. "You are my rock." She told him huskily. "The man of my dreams, and I never knew I had those dreams."

Sliding his arms around her waist, he pulled her on top of him. Words had failed him when he finally held his son in his arms, and they failed him even now. "My woman," he growled. "My all, my everything." It was not enough, but it had to suffice for now.

The end…