46. Wicked

46

Wicked

Light And All The Colors

"Hey! That's my wife!" Leo yells at me, the most elated grin I've ever seen on another human being plastered across his face as we follow Darby and Dahlia out to the front of the house.

Guests started heading home about an hour ago, and thank God for it, because this isn't the kind of send-off that calls for tossing rice.

Darby's stumbling down the porch steps, being held up only by her sister and laughing hysterically. Leo keeps pointing at her before screaming in everyone's face to remind them that she's his wife and telling her she looks really cute for a baby giraffe . Whatever the fuck that means.

I don't think either of them had a morsel of food all day, between pre-wedding jitters and a jam-packed reception, but they sure drank their fill of champagne.

"Oh my God! A limo!" Darby squeals, taking off toward what is not a limo, but a town car Macie booked to drive them from the reception to the hotel.

Stumbling forward, Dahlia chases after her, holding her sister's elbow as she attempts to help Darby inside the vehicle. As soon as the driver pulls the door open, Darby falls face-first onto the seat, crawling into the back. Dahlia groans, wiping a hand down her face before turning to look at me with a vexed expression. I help Leo down the rest of the entry, and he crawls into the back too.

"I don't think they're going to be consummating this thing tonight," I laugh quietly, kissing Dahlia on the cheek.

"We already did!" Darby pipes up from inside the car. "After the ceremony in the bathroom."

"Thanks for letting us know," Dahlia murmurs.

After he's settled, Leo pokes his head out and glares up at me. "Don't challenge me, brother. I'll consummate this thing right here and now." He hiccups, causing a bout of giggles from his wife beside him.

"Please don't," I mutter, slamming the door in his face.

Dahlia lets out an exasperated sigh as I turn to the driver. "Hampton Hotel downtown. Call the front desk when you arrive and let them know the reservation is for Leo Graham. They'll send someone out to make sure the two of them make it to their room," I say, slipping a fifty-dollar bill.

He nods, rounding the driver side and taking off.

Dahlia and I walk back to the house hand-in-hand, meeting my parents at the front steps. My dad buckles Lou into the backseat of my parent's car, where she immediately fell asleep about ten minutes ago. Dahlia leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her head. "You don't have to take her; we can put her to bed upstairs."

Monica shakes her head. "You two take the night to yourselves. I've got plans for us tomorrow, anyway." She smiles down at Dahlia's daughter. "You guys can sleep in. You deserve it after all of," she waves toward the car disappearing in the distance, "that."

Dahlia snorts. I press a kiss to the top of Lou's head, giving my dad a side hug before roping my mom into my arms. We say our goodbyes as they head out to their car. Guests are gone, and just a few event staff remain, taking down the reception. Most of the shit will stay overnight, and a team will come back tomorrow to complete the rest of the clean up.

We enter the quiet, darkened house, locking the door behind us. Dahlia is silent as she leads us up the stairs into her bedroom. Her dress shuffles with every sway of her perfect hips, the view of her body in front of me like a goddamn beacon.

It has been torture watching her move and dance and laugh in that fucking dress all day and not being able to touch her the way I truly want to.

It has been a rough week. Between the revelations of her father and my sister returning home, plus the last-minute wedding prep, we've had little time to spend together. I've seen her at work and around the house, but not being able to hold her and love her the way I need to, the way I do in the dark of night when it's just the two of us, has been excruciating.

As we reach her room, I shut the door behind us, and she spins to face me. Her blue eyes are on fire, she licks her full lips in a way that feels like an invitation, and on instinct, I find myself reaching out to grab her.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pull her against me but move behind her so she's at my front, and we're both facing the mirror on the back of her door. I brush her hair away from her shoulder, bringing my mouth to her collarbone.

"You look exquisite in this dress," I murmur, brushing the straps off her shoulders, feeling goosebumps rise across her flesh. "Breathtaking."

Her head falls back against my chest, eyes fluttering shut. "Thank y—"

"I'm going to take it off you now."

"Oh," she whimpers, eyes falling open to meet mine in the mirror, hooded and laced with lust. Her chest heaves, and I wonder if her heart is thrashing against her ribs the same way mine is.

Dahlia nods, and I bring my hand to the center of her back, taking hold of the zipper on her dress. My knuckles drag along her bare skin as I slowly pull it down, opening her body to me. The dress falls off her shoulders, and she lets it fall to the floor, pooling at her feet.

She's standing in front of me now in nothing but a strapless white bra and a pair of matching panties—the same set she was wearing on her birthday—and I twist the clasp on her bra, letting that fall to the floor too. Torturously slow, I run my hands down her sides, brushing my thumbs across each one of her nipples, eliciting a moan from her. Dipping my fingers into the waistband of her underwear, I tug them down to her mid-thighs, and she shimmies them the rest of the way off until they join her dress on the floor.

"Exquisite," I whisper, pressing my lips to her neck. "Breathtaking."

"Everett," she moans, lifting her arm to wrap her hand around my nape.

I run my hands up and down the length of her beautiful body, and she watches me do so in the mirror with utmost confidence—confidence she didn't have before. I know every day will look different, and some will be better than others, but I take pride in knowing that—at least right now—I might've helped her see the beauty in herself that has always been there, beauty she was blind to before I showed it to her.

She spins, smiling wickedly at me as she presses against my chest and sends me falling back onto the edge of her bed. "Your turn," she rasps, pulling at the buckle of my belt and making quick work of getting my slacks off my legs.

Once they're gone, she sends me moving backward on her bed until I'm sitting up against the headboard and she straddles my hips. Her delicate fingers work away at the buttons of my dress shirt, popping them open one by one.

I know the moment she sees it as she tugs my shirt off my arms. She gasps, movements halting and hands flying to cover her mouth. Her eyes slowly drag from my chest to my face, growing wide as she takes in the tattoo August finished earlier this week. "Everett," she whispers, one hand slowly lowering to my chest, softly brushing across the ink there. "When did you—"

"The night I got back from New York. Leo and I went to see August while you and Darby were asleep. I'd been thinking about it for a long while before that, though." She shakes her head, tracing the dahlias that spread wide over my pec and up to my shoulder. "You're my compass, wildflower," I repeat the words I said to her weeks ago. "You're where I find home."

Her bottom lip trembles, gaze meeting mine and glistening with emotion as she spreads her palm across the entire tattoo—right over my heart. It's a compass, needle pointing southwest, because that's the direction she was going when she came to find me. Nestled behind it are orange dahlias, a cluster of other wildflowers accented within them.

She tilts her head as she studies it further, a finger outlining the golden thread that wraps around the compass, weaving between the petals of the flowers. "What is this?" she asks.

"Our invisible string. Our thread of gold. Our light. Nuestra luz ."

I watch her brows pinch together, watch the realization dawn on her. Dahlia's mouth drops open as she inhales sharply, and suddenly, tears are pouring from her bright eyes. I lean up, taking her face between my hands and kissing them away. Moving across her nose and cheeks, I make my way to her mouth and feather my lips against hers, moving softly.

"She's my light," I whisper. "And you're all my colors, Wildflower."

"Everett." She wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me harder. "You know that's permanent, right?" I feel her smile softly against my mouth.

"I love you permanently."

She pulls away, looking down at me with astonished eyes, brushing her hand along my jaw, as if she's checking to ensure I'm truly here. She doesn't respond, though. Instead, she surges forward, kissing me fervently.

I moan into her mouth, and she slips her tongue into mine. We're a clash of lips and breath and need. I knot my hands into her hair, and she runs her nails down my back. Our bodies flush together, but it's not enough. A primal urge to be closer—to be entwined—overcomes me, and I'm hardening beneath her legs, feeling her soft skin brush against my most sensitive area.

I let out a groan, and she returns it with a twin sound. "You're mine."

"Fuck," I rasp. "Yes. Yours."

She pulls away, lifting her hips and reaching between us. I hiss as her soft hand comes in contact with my cock, pumping me from base to tip. She licks her lips, pulling her bottom one between her teeth. Breathing hard, she whispers again, "You're mine?"

"You own me, baby," I grit out as she fists me once more. She swipes my head through her slit, so unbelievably wet. "Mind." I grip my base as she removes her hand, keeping my cock in place. "Body," I groan as she seats herself fully.

Her breath hitches as she adjusts to the fullness of having me inside her. She places her palms at the center of my chest, right over the tattoo at my heart. I grip her hips with both my hands and slowly lift her before dropping her back down.

We let out a simultaneous moan at the joining of our bodies.

"Soul," I rasp, rocking her against me again. "I love you, Dahlia."

Wildflower

"I love you, Dahlia." His voice is rough and raw, eyes wild as he watches me ride him. Sensation soars through my body, sparks lighting along my skin as I move atop him, feeling him so deeply inside me that he may just be woven into the fabric of my being.

His name written across my soul.

I drop my face, pressing our foreheads together. Sharing breath, I watch his eyes flare with every meeting of our flesh. He tightens his hold on my hips, snaking a hand around my backside to grasp my ass and move me faster.

"Fuck me like you own me, Dahlia," he whimpers into my mouth. "Because you do."

I move quicker, and he lifts his hips to meet my thrusts, the sound of our joining echoing through the silent space, only accented by our rapid breathing and whispered words. Pleasure coils in my center, growing taut and tight, heat building and begging to break.

"I love you," he repeats, lips moving against mine. "I love you so loud. I love you permanently." His mouth moves along my jaw. "I love you all the time." Peppering kisses along my neck, I feel the sensation—our connection—from the place his mouth rests to the very tips of my toes and back up again. Stars dance behind my vision as I near that peak. "You're tattooed across my chest, etched into my bones," he whispers. "You've unraveled me, and…" His words have me spiraling toward release, my hips moving on their own accord, forcing us faster and harder and more powerful. "And… fuck . I love you. I love you."

Those words—his voice, and his hands, and his touch—have my climax ripping through me. My head falls back, baring my neck to him as he latches onto it. I cry out his name, feeling my body tighten and break atop him. My release floods from me, fireworks exploding in my mind and blurring my vision, my body clinging to him as I ride it out, feeling every piece of my soul fracture and piece itself back together.

"I love you, Everett." The words fly from my mouth on a moan.

Words I've rarely said before and never felt the way they do at this moment. They've been something I've always deemed impossible to say, but now, they come out effortlessly. I wonder if love has only ever felt unreachable because I was saving it all for him.

"Dahlia," he pants, eyes flying open. I feel him pulsate inside me, chest heaving as he looks at me with an infinity of emotion behind his amber eyes. "Say it again."

"I love you," I whisper, rolling my hips and kissing his jaw.

"Fuck." He thrusts up into me, cock twitching and sending a tremor through my core. "Baby, I'm going to—"

"Come inside me," I beg, grinding down onto him and removing any semblance of space between our bodies. "Please, Everett. I need to feel you."

He grips my hips hard enough to bruise, eyes on mine. I watch his throat move as a moan tears through it, his cock swelling and pulsing once more before a soft groan leaves his lips. Warmth floods my body, filling me up with the final throb of his release.

Our chests press together, heartbeats pounding like twin drums. He holds my face, smiling up at me with deep, raw, all-consuming love in his gaze, and I can only hope I'm looking at him the same.

He wraps a hand around my neck, pulling me into him and kissing me hard. Grasping my waist with his other arm, he holds me tightly as he flips us over so I lay on my back. We both groan as he slowly pulls out, sitting on his knees in front of me with his gaze glued between my legs.

He licks his lips, brushing his hand across my leg to the apex of my thighs. I shiver at his touch as he dips a finger inside me, stuffing me back full of the release that began to leak out. "That's beautiful," he whispers, shaking his head. "Fuck. I love the look of that."

Butterflies erupt in my stomach, and I'm pounding with arousal once more.

"Do…do you want kids?" I find myself blurting.

His eyes snap to mine, and with the utmost seriousness, he asks, "Do you mean more kids?"

"Yeah," I respond breathlessly, my heart flying out of my chest. "More kids."

He nods, eyes dark and hazed with passion and fervor. "With you, yes." Swiping a finger through my center again and smearing his release between my legs, he asks, "Do you?"

"Yes," I say immediately. "I always have. I always wanted her to have siblings. I know at this point…she's so much older, it won't be like what I had with mine but…I'd like to give her someone."

Everett smiles, laying down beside me and wrapping me into his arms. My head falls into his chest, right over the tattoo he got for me. For us . Emotion pricks at my eyes again as I nuzzle against him, savoring his warmth.

"Then we'll give her someone. Multiple someones." His thumb moves in soothing circles along the bare skin of my shoulder, and he plants a kiss into my hair. "But you two will need to move in first, of course."

"What?" I gasp, lifting onto my elbow to look at him.

"Move in with me, Wildflower." He flashes me his wicked grin. "You keep talking about how you need to find a place, and I've got one. She'll have her own room, a backyard to play in." His eyes are pleading and hopeful, and he lifts his chin to brush his mouth along my jaw. "We know we're end game. We know we're a family. Don't make me go another goddamn night without having you in my bed. Please."

"How do you think Lou will feel about it?"

"I have a feeling she'll be elated. I have a feeling she'll ask us why it took so long." He laughs. "We can talk to her tomorrow, and if she shows the slightest ounce of hesitation, we can pump the brakes for a while, but I'm not too worried about it."

I look at him, seeing my whole world staring back at me. The easiest answer I've ever given falls from my lips when I say, "Yes. Let's do it."

Everett smiles, taking my face between his hands and pressing a kiss to my nose. "You love me?" he asks.

"I love you permanently," I whisper into the night.

"Permanently," he whispers back, kissing me again.