Young Revelations (Young Series) (43 page)

Chuckling, I nod and leave her at the window, heading towards the kitchen. I have to wonder how we went from having nothing but happy chatter to discussing the worst night of my life. I’m not naïve; I know we’ll have to discuss it at some point, but I certainly didn’t expect it to be this soon. And I probably should have realized she would notice my best friend’s house, which had been there long before I met her, was gone. It’s still strange to look out into the yard and not see it, particularly on the days that I think of something I want to talk to Leo about and I’m halfway down the lawn before remembering he’s not here anymore.

Shaking myself, I’m determined to get us back to lighter subjects. The rest can wait for another day.

“Matt?”

I pause in adding hot water to the apple cider concentrate Bonnie gave me and wonder if it’s my imagination that makes her voice sound so… off. “Yes?” I call back, grabbing a couple cinnamon sticks to put in the clear glass mugs. She doesn’t respond and I head out of the kitchen to find her. She’s standing in the formal dining room that I think I’ve only used a handful of times for its actual purpose. Lately it’s become my work station and I recall very belatedly that I haven’t cleaned up the project I’ve been working on. My blood turns to ice in my veins and a feeling of dread settles in my stomach. I didn’t intend for her to see any of that, not yet anyway, and now I’m afraid I’ve blown all my chances because of my arrogance and confidence.

Slowly I come to stand beside her, setting the mugs on the table, and watch as her eyes travel from one pile to the next. Every so often she reaches out to touch something, but she doesn’t respond otherwise.

“What is all this?” she asks, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Taking a deep fortifying breath, I answer softly, “Wedding arrangements.” My eyes are locked on her, trying to decipher what she might be thinking, but I’ve got nothing. And it scares me a little.

“What wedding?”

I swallow hard. “Ours,” I admit quietly.

Her eyes snap over to look at me. “Ours,” she repeats. “Matthew, you and I are—”

“I know.” I quickly interrupt her so I don’t have to hear her say it out loud. She’s already reminded me once tonight about the status of our relationship and I don’t need another one.

“Then why?”

Sighing, I run my hands through my hair. “I told you already that I intend to fight for you and for our relationship, and that I am determined to win. That wasn’t just talk; I meant those words with everything I am. And it occurred to me one morning that if by some miracle you change your mind about us before our wedding date, we’d have to scramble to get everything done. So I thought I’d get everything ready now so it’s perfect for you, if that’s what you want.” I gesture at the table where I’ve got lists and binders and pictures taken from magazines. “Flowers, catering, music… I even scheduled a hair stylist and makeup artist for the girls.”

There’s a shadow of a smile on her face. “You did all this despite the fact that you have no idea whether we will ever be together again?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say, nodding. “Or rather, you did all this. You made all the decisions; all I did was make some phone calls and give out my credit card number.”

She looks back at the table, shaking her head in disbelief. “And what if I don’t change my mind?” she asks.

I painfully swallow the lump in my throat at the thought. “Then I will have the humiliating task of cancelling all the arrangements I’ve made,” I inform her. “Least of what I deserve for being cocky enough to go ahead with something so uncertain as though nothing’s changed.”

Without acknowledging my words, she reaches out for the guest list and examines it. “What do the check marks mean?” she asks.

“Those are the people who are definitely coming,” I tell her. “The ones that have sent their RSVPs.”

Her eyes widen on a name. “My
brother
?” she asks incredulously. “You’re joking!”

I huff a laugh. “Nope,” I say lightly. “Got his card last week.”

She shakes her head in disbelief, then turns to look at me. “You realize he’s probably coming to stop me from ruining my life by marrying you, don’t you?” she asks.

I smirk. “I’m well aware,” I say wryly. “I think I can handle one pissed off brother, though.”

Rolling her eyes, she turns back to the guest list. “I can’t believe you did all this,” she whispers.

I shrug. “Not like I’ve had much else to do in my spare time. And it really was a selfish move on my part; it’s given me hope that not all is lost between us. I mean, I’m not even sure how accurate that perception is, but I needed something to hang onto.”

She doesn’t respond.

“There’s something else I want to show you,” I say suddenly. “Another one of the projects I’ve been working on. This one is a little more set in reality…”

“What?” she asks curiously, momentarily distracted from the wedding plans.

I take the guest list from her and lay it back on the table, taking her hand. “It’s upstairs.”

Without asking questions, she allows me to lead her through the house and up the staircase. For some reason, I’m more nervous about showing her this than I was when I realized she’d found the wedding arrangements I made. It’s not something we’ve really had much chance to discuss and I don’t even know if she’ll like it. If not, she can change it any way she wants. We stop in front of a door not far from our bedroom. This is the one thing we agreed on in preparation for our daughter’s arrival. She wanted the nursery to be close to us so we didn’t have to go too far to get to the baby in the middle of the night.

Gasping in realization of where we are, Samantha grips my hand more tightly, looking up at me. “You didn’t,” she whispers, and I don’t know if that is a positive or negative response.

“See for yourself,” I reply, opening the door and pushing it wide.

Samantha lets go of my hand and enters the room while I remain in the doorway, reaching over to switch on a light. I’m actually pretty damn proud of this room. The walls are a very faint pink color, just enough to bring out the other decorations without it being too much. The floors are covered in matching shag carpeting that is incredibly comfortable to lie on. I think I’ve already fallen asleep in here half a dozen times. A dark wood crib is against the wall and filled with stuffed animals, because I didn’t like the look of it empty. Above the crib, dangling from the ceiling, is a mobile with little pink and white owls. On the other side of the room is the changing table already stocked with diapers and baby wipes and a stack of onesies to fit a newborn. A rocking chair is set beside the window for our comfort during late night feedings. I’ve hung pictures on the walls around the room—ones of me and Samantha and Tyler. And the ultrasound photos we’ve gotten so far. On the wall above the crib is an arch of pastel-colored wooden letters that spell out OLIVIA.

When Samantha finds the name above the crib, she spins around to face me, her eyes wide with shock. All she can do is point to the name.

I chuckle softly. “I did that last night after I dropped you off at Claire’s again,” I tell her.

She nods faintly, looking around the room again. Her gaze lingers on a toy box in one of the corners—already full of things for a baby to safely play with—and I realize I have no idea what she thinks of the room. Or the wedding preparations. Aside from disbelief, she hasn’t said a damn thing to give away her thoughts.

“Sam, please say something,” I plead quietly. She looks at me again. “Anything. The silence is really starting to kill me.”

“I can’t believe you did all this,” she says again.

“If there’s something you don’t like, we can change it,” I say anxiously. “I know we haven’t really discussed the nursery in too much detail, but again, I wanted it to be ready.”

“Don’t you dare change a thing,” she instructs me firmly. “It’s perfect. All of it.”

I feel my eyes widening. “All of it?” I ask. “Even the wedding stuff?”

She nods slowly, then crosses the room to close the distance between us. A moment later, her hands are fisted in my hair and her lips are crushing mine. The shock of the situation only lasts a moment until my hands fly to her waist holding her against me as I respond to her kiss. Our mouths glide over each other’s, our tongues desperate for the contact. I turn us around and press her against the wall, my lips leaving hers to trail across her cheek to her ear then down her neck. The little moans she emits fuel my desire and I press my hips into hers in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure between my legs. I slide my hands down her waist to cup her backside as my tongue travels lower to her collarbone and the neckline of her dress. It’s not enough for me and when I hear her raspy request, all I can do is groan in response.

“Take me to bed,” she instructs me.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” I tell her, lifting her into my arms. She wraps her legs around my waist and bends her neck to continue kissing me. I never noticed how distracting her mouth is than when I’m trying to safely navigate us down the hallway to the bedroom.

Once there, after only a few bumps into the wall, I waste no time depositing her onto my bed and kicking off my shoes. With my eyes locked on hers, I take a few deep breaths. “This is what you want?” I check hoarsely. “You’re sure?”

She nods frantically, her eyes wide and her chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. “Yes,” she whispers.

I crawl onto the bed at her feet and start to take off her boots. “I really do like these,” I tell her, dropping each one on the side of the bed. My hands slide up her legs and I get to watch as her breathing catches and her eyes close at my touch. Very slowly, I push up her dress so I can pull down her stockings, and I can’t resist kissing every inch of skin as I reveal it. I smirk as she whimpers when I take away my lips. Kneeling between her legs, I take her hands, pulling her upwards so I can remove her dress over her head. My heart stops beating altogether at the sight of her wearing only a bra and matching panties. It’s been far too long since I last saw her like this and while I plan on making it last as long as possible, I don’t think I’m going to have that option once I’m inside her.

“You’re overdressed,” she informs me, reaching out her shaking hands to rectify the situation by unbuttoning my shirt.

She shuffles forward a little and presses her lips against my belly, letting her tongue tease the area around my bellybutton. It’s my turn to whimper now. Grinning proudly at me, she starts to unbuckle my belt, removing it completely from my jeans and tossing it aside. She easily unbuttons and unzips my pants, shoving them down as far as she can. Looking up at me, she lowers my boxers as well, freeing my erection. I could cry when I feel her tongue on me, teasing me, and when her mouth envelopes me, I have to reach forward to brace myself against the headboard of the bed to keep from falling onto and hurting her.

Very reluctantly, I pull away from her. “If you keep that up,” I tell her, shoving the rest of my clothes down and off my legs. Naturally everything gets tangled around my ankle and I have to move away from Samantha to get them off. She’s laughing at me. “If you keep that up, this is going to be over long before it starts.”

I remove her bra before she has the chance to object and don’t bother teasing her as I take off her panties. Neither of us is in the mood for that. Finally I’m arched over her again, my hands on either side of her head. I look down at her and I’m amazed that someone so incredible could find it in their heart to put up with me and all my bullshit. I should be treasuring this woman, and yet all I’ve done, time after time after time is push her further away. “Last chance,” I breathe, resting my forehead against hers. “After this, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Good,” she whispers, reaching up to cup my head and pull me down to her. “Don’t.”

Putting all my weight onto one elbow, I kiss her slowly and deeply, letting my hand wander her body, tracing all the little changes it’s gone through during her pregnancy so far. She feels like heaven. My fingers reach her breasts and she gasps into my mouth, arching her back into my touch. I drag my lips down to take a nipple between them, flicking it lightly with my tongue and she squirms beneath me. We go on like this for several minutes, touching each other, teasing each other, begging each other for more.

I feel her press a hand against my shoulder, pushing at me, and I snap out of my daze, jumping up to my knees again. “What?” I ask breathlessly. “What’s the matter? Did you change your mind?”

She only bites her lip and grins, pushing me onto my back and moving to straddle my waist. “Definitely not,” she whispers. “Just going for a more comfortable position.”

“Oh,” I say, my voice cracking as she rises up on her knees, positions me beneath her, and sinks down onto me. Our voices mingle in a cry of pleasure and I don’t know whose voice is whose. Not that it matters as she begins to move; at this point, I don’t think I could remember my name if I had to.

Wrapping my arms around her shoulders, I pull her down to me as we move together, needing her as close to me as humanly possible. This is where we belong, lost in each other with no concern for anything outside our bed. And she feels so incredible around me it almost hurts. Our eyes open at the same time and we stare into each other’s souls, desperate for the connection we both knows is still there, just lying dormant during our troubles. I feel her body tensing and her breath catch in her throat, and I take control to get us to the very brink of ecstasy. I can always pinpoint the exact moment before she goes over the edge. Her mouth drops open slightly, her eyes roll back, and she begins to tremble. She whispers to me, begs me not to stop, not that I have any intention of doing something so foolish… My arms circle her waist as she cries my name and I brace my feet against the bed, moving faster to get where she is, and it doesn’t take long until I’m calling out her name and burying myself as far into her as I can.