The Regret Series Complete Collection Box Set: Lost to You, Take This Regret, and if Forever Comes (79 page)

A tiny moan slipped up my throat. Christian devoured it as he intensified his kiss, stroked my tongue with his.

I nipped at his bottom lip as I sought out the button on his waistband, worked it free, rushed through the buttons on his shirt. My palms came flat to his chest, and I pushed his shirt free from his shoulders.

Kicking off his shoes and socks, Christian twisted out of the shirt. I edged down his pants, taking his underwear with them.

My eyes wandered and traced, adoring this beautiful man that I loved with every ounce of my life.

He scooped me up and placed me in the center of the bed, his muscles rippling as he crawled up to me. He grasped me by the knees, slowly pressing them apart as he ran his palms up the inside of my thighs.

A trail of fire burned in his wake and throbbed between my legs.

He twisted his fingers in the edges of my panties and dragged them down, leaning in to brush his lips in a tortuous path behind them.

“Christian, please.”

The man was always making me beg.

A soft chuckle rolled from him as he moved to hover over me, dipped down to kiss me, long and hard. He hummed, the sound a vibration from his mouth that shot straight through me. He let his fingers wander between my thighs, brushed his knuckles across the sensitive skin.

I moaned.

“Look at you,” he whispered as he settled between my legs. His erection slipped against my folds. One hand cupped my jaw, and he tilted my chin up to him. “My wife.”

Then he took me whole, body and soul. All of me. Always.

Our bodies bonded, we moved slowly. My fingers were woven in the promise of his, and he kept them nested between our chests. We were nose-to-nose, breath-to-breath.

Christian stared down at me as he made love to me for the first time as my husband, the man I was giving all of my days.

Our lives had taken us in so many directions. We’d been granted so much joy and burdened with so much sorrow. We’d been forced down roads we didn’t want to take, blinded by the unforeseen, taken detours that had led us to the unexpected.

My eyes were locked on the one who waited at the end of my every path. My destiny. The one I could never escape.

“I love you, Christian,” I whispered, a promise, an oath.

Christian nuzzled me beneath my ear, then tipped his mouth to whisper in it. “We made it, Elizabeth.”

And Christian loved me, the way only he could.

And I knew it. Knew he would be my forever.

~

Christian ~ One Year Later

I stood at the large window, peering out into the near dark.

When the night had grown deep, I’d climbed from bed where I’d lain for hours, unable to sleep. I’d crept across the bedroom, drawn to the peaceful scene painted outside.

The quarter moon hung low in the sky. It glinted across the murky waters of the raging sea. Tree branches beat at the walls, a squall of heavy wind lashing at the earth. In the distance, waves rushed up the shore and crashed on the beach.

I could stand here for hours. Just listening, lost in my thoughts.

Five months ago, we’d finally found the perfect house. It was a beautiful structure, five bedrooms, a kitchen Elizabeth would be happy to live in, and a sweeping backyard.

Yeah. It backed up to our beach.

Lizzie spent entire days out playing on the lawn, pumping her legs furiously on her swing, walking hand in hand with her mother, barefoot in the sand.

As much as we loved it here, Elizabeth and I knew the walls themselves meant nothing. It was what filled them that counted, the laughter that echoed from them, the happiness they contained.

Joy reigned here.

That didn’t mean there were no bad days. There were still times when I found Elizabeth on her knees in the huge walk-in closet adjoining our bedroom. Lillie’s blanket would be balled in her arms. She’d rock it as if she were rocking the child she never truly had the chance to. She’d cry and she’d whisper incoherent words, she’d love and she’d adore. Then she’d dry her eyes and climb to her feet, tucking those precious tokens away until she felt compelled to be immersed in them again. She’d never had the strength to leave them out, to put any of it on display, but instead hid it away as her own buried treasure.

I’d be waiting for her, leaning up against the doorframe. Elizabeth would cast me a mournful smile as I pulled her into my arms, and she’d mumble into my shirt how much she missed her.

And we were okay with that, welcomed those days because, even though they hurt, they belonged to Lillie.

Another wave crashed, and the ocean stirred.

Behind me, our bed creaked, a soft rustle of sheets. I looked over my shoulder.

Elizabeth sat up on the side of the bed, arching as she pressed her hands to her lower back. Her long hair fell in waves as she lifted her chin, brushed along the bed as she stretched her neck.

My breath caught.

Beauty. There was no other way to describe it.

She’d always reminded me of honey, the golden glow of her skin, the sweetness of her mouth, the warmth in her eyes.

I started toward her, whispering, “What are you doing awake, baby? You need to rest.”

She blinked at me through the shadows of the darkened room. She almost pouted. “Too uncomfortable.”

She blew a strained breath between pursed lips.

I crouched down between her knees. My fingers crawled up the top of her legs and around to her back where I massaged deeply into her hips where she always seemed to be sore.

She whimpered out a subdued moan. “That feels so good.”

“I wish I could do more.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing and I’m a happy girl.”

Her fitted tank top had ridden up, bunched just below her swollen breasts. The huge protrusion ballooned out between us, her belly button stretched thin.

Elizabeth was five days passed her due date.

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

Apparently my son was stubborn.

Three months after our wedding, we found out Elizabeth was pregnant again. News of this pregnancy hadn’t been met with the thrill of the last, with the wild expectation for what was to be. Instead it’d been met with trembling hands and trepidation.

But we’d realized this life was worth the chance, that we had to breathe and live and love, and we couldn’t allow fear to hold us back.

It didn’t mean there weren’t the nagging worries, the panic that would tighten Elizabeth’s eyes if she thought it’d been too long since she last felt him move.

For our peace of mind, Dr. Montieth had recommended that we get a home heart monitor. She’d taught us how to use it, what to look for and what to be concerned of, the quickened whirl of his heartbeat a promise that he was okay.

Elizabeth looked down as she ran her hand over her stomach, bit her lip as she glanced up at me under the hedge of hair that had fallen in her face.

I reached up and brushed it back.

She cradled him between her hands. “I wish he would come,” she whispered. A smile trembled at her mouth. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

I slipped my hands around her sides and to her front, covered Elizabeth’s hold in mine as we swam in our anticipation. “I’ve never been more ready for anything, Elizabeth.”

She smiled a little before a yawn overtook her. She chuckled as she tried to conceal it behind her hand.

I nudged her chin with the hook of my index finger. “You need to get some rest. I have a feeling you’re not going to get much of it really soon.”

She giggled in the cutest way. “Yeah, I guess he can’t hide out in here forever.”

I crawled in bed with her, pulled the covers over us as I nestled her back against my chest. She curled into me, her tender hand covering mine where I rested it on the distended wall of her belly.

Contentment thrummed between us.

Her breaths evened out like a soothing balm, and she quickly drew me into sleep.

~

A thrill of energy rose up in the room, a cheer of encouragement. “You’re almost there, Elizabeth. Give me one more big push,” Dr. Montieth coaxed.

Sweat drenched Elizabeth’s forehead, soaked her hair. She clenched my hand as she bore down and cried out.

For a moment, there was silence as our son slipped into Dr. Montieth’s hands. Time seemed to stop as I watched the frantic movements that had slowed in my mind. The doctor held him in a blue blanket, one hand at the back of his neck as she almost tipped him upside down, the other suctioning out his mouth and nose.

Blood stained him, covered him whole, this little boy that already held my heart.

My vision blurred.

Then he cried.

These shrill, shocked cries that welcomed him into this world.

Another blanket was tossed on Elizabeth’s belly, and they set him on his side, the two nurses roughing it over his tiny body.

And he was crying and crying. The precious sound rattled through the room as his little arms and legs flailed.

Shaking uncontrollably, Elizabeth reached for him, palmed his head with an unsteady hand. He reacted, tilting against her touch as if seeking her out, a stutter in his cries as his mouth twisted at the side because the child already knew her.

And she wept, tears of relief and tears of joy, a torrent of emotion spilling from this amazing woman. From the woman who held my dreams, the one who held my future.

I rushed to smooth her hair back that was drenched in sweat, dropped my forehead to hers, lost myself in the warmth of her brown eyes. “You did it,” flooded as a desperate whisper as I kissed her mouth, as I kissed the woman I loved with all my life, “You beautiful girl. You did it.”

~

I stood at the window, peering out into the night, rocking in a slow sway. Waves rushed in, crashed on the shore. A contented sigh flowed from me as I rocked from side to side.

Myles squirmed in the safety of my hold, cradled in my arm. It was a writhe, the little guy worming around with a restless roll, extending his head back.

I couldn’t hold in my smile.

I’d been right.

My son was stubborn. He knew exactly what he wanted and when he wanted it.

Stretching his free leg, he flexed his foot, digging his toes into my skin. Tight against the side of his face, he clenched and unclenched one tiny fist. He jerked his open mouth toward my chest, his tongue jutting out between his lips as if he were searching, hunting.

But of course he was.

He wanted his mother.

Jerking the other direction, he fought with his fist, trying to stuff it into his mouth. He was making all these little noises, rattled sounds that were not quite a cry.

“Shh…” I rocked him a little, the softest bounce. “Let’s let mommy sleep just a little longer. Do you think you could do that? It’s not quite time for you to eat yet.”

At the sound of my muted voice, he looked up at me with his wide, storm-blue eyes.

Love consumed me, filled every crevice of my being as I looked down at his perfect face.

My son.

Elizabeth insisted those dark blue eyes would turn the color of mine. She said Lizzie’s had been so much the same. I wasn’t sold on it yet. His hair was light, a thin layer that didn’t even cover the cap of his head, like maybe he was going to take after his mother, this beautiful child that had completed our home.

He fussed a little more, and I began to pace the floor, hoping to give Elizabeth a few more minutes sleep.

I lifted him to nuzzle his cheek. “Why don’t we go check on your big sister?” I murmured at the softness of his skin.

I chuckled low when his mouth bobbed at my cheek, rooting, seeking, exploring. Tiny fingernails scratched at my face, their dig like an embrace that went straight to my heart. I kissed the tips of his fingers as they tugged at my lips.

I crept from mine and Elizabeth’s room, through the living space, to the other end of the house. Lizzie’s door sat partially open, the nightlight that glowed from within illuminating her precious face in subdued light.

She was fast asleep, lost in her dreams, that sweet face relaxed as she rested on her pillow, her hair billowing out behind her.

I nudged the door farther open, walked to her side, and brushed my fingers through my daughter’s silky black hair.

This little girl who had once stopped me in my tracks with a penetrating gaze and a tiny smile that had undone something in me. The one who had covered me in awareness, the one who’d sent love rushing in.

This child, the one who had been mine and Elizabeth’s breaking point, the one who had also been our start. The catalyst with her knowing eyes and tender heart.

She was the one who had changed the selfish person I was.

I’d never stop wishing I could go back and change it. Getting to experience this with Myles…I’d never really known just how much I’d missed. And I
missed
it. Wished for it. That I could hold Lizzie as a baby.

In the depths of sleep, she released a soft sigh, an emotion that was palpable as it wound with my heart, like maybe this intuitive child understood.

All I had was today, and I chose to love her with every second, with every breath.

Leaning down, I swept a small kiss across Lizzie’s cheek.

She was the most amazing big sister, too, the way I’d always imagined she’d be. She couldn’t wait for Myles to get a little older, to hear the first of his laughter, to watch his first smile grace his face. She couldn’t wait for him to play.

I hugged my six-week-old son a little closer to me, willing time to slow. I’d learned to cherish each day, and I wished none of them away.

He fussed, and a tiny cry gurgled from his trembling mouth, his toothless gums exposed.

My chest tightened, affection pressed.

Was it strange I thought it the cutest thing?

I whispered to Lizzie, “Goodnight, princess,” then kissed her again before I lifted Myles to the center of my chest. He
curled his legs up under him, tucked into a tiny ball. I patted his back as I walked back through the house, pressed my lips to the crown of his head.

I entered back into the muted light and looked down to where my wife lay. Awake, she was on her side, facing me. A sleepy smile spread along her gorgeous mouth.