Authors: Liz Crowe
Tags: #Gay & Lesbian, #Literature & Fiction, #Fiction, #Gay, #Romance, #Health; Fitness & Dieting, #Relationships, #Love & Romance, #Genre Fiction, #Lgbt, #Gay Fiction
Essence of Time (38 page)
She hadn’t moved, had put her hand to his cheek. “I miss you.” Her voice had been low and something in him snapped. He yanked her close, kissed her, picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. All the stress, anger, guilt, unhappiness and misery between turned in the blink of an eye as they reconnected. She reached for the drawer that held the condoms as he lifted his head from her breasts, his body aching, on fire with a need greater than he’d ever felt. Ghosts of his past roamed around in his head. Christine, René, Kyle, and Blake. But he shoved them away and focused on his future, with Lila.
“No,” He took her hand, brought it to his lips. “Let’s try this again.”
She had sighed as he slipped into her body, and wrapped her legs around him. “I love you,” she said, holding his gaze as he thrust into her. “So much.” The moment coalesced in his soul, and they cried out together in mutual pleasure, their tears mingling as they kissed.
Rob shivered, remembering that moment. The moment that he’d narrowly avoided ruining his life even further. He squared his shoulders.
Don’t be weak,
Frietag. For god's sake, do not let her go again.
“Remember?” He insisted, pulling her close. “I love you. I want to be with you forever.”
“I know,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist again. “I’m sorry. I want it too. It’s just…”
Rob tilted her chin up so he could look at her. “Let it go, Lila. Whatever it is. We have each other now. We have this,” he ran his palm around the curve of her stomach. “Us. Our family. It’s all I want, or need, in the universe.”
She nodded and he let her stay quiet, knowing that, in her own way, she had processed it. He didn’t need to say anything else. He took her hand.
“There are a lot of people out there waiting. So I’ll ask you one more time. Will you please marry me?”
The End
Escalation Clause (Stewart Realty Book 5)
Coming Soon to Sizzlin' Books
Sara gasped, sat straight up, blinking in the pitch-black bedroom. In tune as only the mother of an infant can be to every small noise in the house, she figured the baby had cried out. She waited and heard nothing. Then put her hand down to touch Jack’s sleeping form, and found empty sheets. Again.
She sat, put her feet on the cool hardwood floor and let the reality of the day wash over her, nearly suffocating once she realized what had woken her up. Blake had been in her dream, his dancing green eyes and impish grin as real to her as if he stood in the room. If only he could. The past three weeks had been something well beyond her worst nightmare. She knew she still had yet to come to terms with the death of her brother because of all the details she had to attend to, not to mention handling her mother’s near nervous breakdown at Blake’s memorial service. The memories pounded in her brain, flashes of agony displayed by them all, but most especially Rob.
“Jack?” She called out, needing him. Then sighed, remembering their fight the night before over his slow removal from her. Or, as he put it, “her perception” of his distance.
“God dammit Sara, this is not about you, okay? I’m… busy. I’m preoccupied. I’m mourning yet another death in my fucking family.”
But there was no denying it. He’d been edging away from her, from them all, emotionally. All of the preparation for the loss of one of Jack’s closest friends, Blake’s lover, Rob, only to be annihilated by the sadistic hand fate had dealt them, had affected him in a way she wasn’t able to process. All because he was holding her at arm's length. While she dealt in her own way. She bit her lip, determined to keep the tears in check as she walked down the long hall to the kitchen.
Her own mental state was fragile at best, but she had held it together in a way that surprised even her. People needed her. Her baby, her daughter, her parents, her friends. She’d rallied into something she would swear Blake would've been proud of, , only to look up about a week after the accident to find Jack staring at her, his deep blue eyes flat. “Are you ever going to realize what this is, Sara? Really mourn?”
She’d risen from the couch with the finally sleeping Brandis and left the room. How he didn’t realize that the only thing holding the edges of her sanity together was the forward motion, organization and non-thinking she was doing was beyond her. They hadn’t really talked since that day.
She stopped in the door of his study, watching him pore over his latest project. Obtaining, of all things, an expansion major league soccer team for Detroit and building a state of the art facility for them downtown. It had become an obsession. One she didn’t care for at all. He ran his long fingers through his hair, making it stand on end as he turned pages of the latest book on stadium facilities. The computer had the official MLS website pulled up and sat blinking in the otherwise dark room.
She walked to him, put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to do something to reconnect. She needed him. More than the physical, she needed him to understand how she was dealing with this, to see that she was dealing with it in her own way. Mostly, though, she just needed him to talk to her.
He startled, then grabbed her hand. The touch of his lips to her skin made her tingle, and gasp with anticipation. Dear God, she had missed him on so many levels. He turned his chair around, took her other hand and yanked her down to his lap, slanting his mouth over hers, thrusting his tongue between her lips. Her body acted of its own accord, using well-worn scripts to find release at his hands.
She stood and slipped out of the shorts she’d been sleeping in, never taking her eyes from his as tears crowded the space behind her eyes. She bit them back, leaned in to unzip his jeans. He stood so she could tug them down to the floor. They stared at each other, so many words between them, so many things left unsaid. But the physical urge that crackled in the room would not be denied. He sat back down and she straddled him, taking him inside her immediately, her body already wet and ready.
“Sara,” He exhaled into her hair, then threaded his fingers in it, yanked hard bringing a familiar sweet edge of pain to her pleasure. He shoved her t-shirt up to get at her breasts. She rose and fell back onto his shaft, taking what she needed as he sucked her nipple, biting down and making her groan and her whole body contract. She’d stopped breastfeeding as her body had seemingly shut down after the tragedy, stopped producing milk. One more thing that made her feel inadequate. But she was never more grateful that she could have this moment with her husband. She cradled his head, fisted his thick hair, wanting to feel him all over her.
“Harder Jack. Please. I need this.”
He picked her up, still kissing her and walking them over to the couch. Never breaking their connection he grunted as they dropped onto the couch. The glorious sensation of his thickness filling and spreading her walls, the perfect way they fit together finally loosed the tears that had been lurking. She gripped his shoulders, wrapped her legs around him as he pounded into her.
“Sara,” He groaned, shuddering, just as her own orgasm flashed through her body, making her cry out and hold him tight. He slowed, stopped, and slipped out of her. Then he sat, breathing heavy, one hand on her legs. “Thanks.” His voice was low. Her heart stuttered. She realized he was still gone. Tucked into a place of mourning not even she could reach. She sat, turned his face to hers and kissed him. Hoping like hell she could bring him back. They’d been through so damned much to get to where they were. Having Jack fade on her like was beyond alarming. It was terrifying. He broke the kiss. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m the fifteen-second man it seems.”
He stood before she could say anything and walked out of the room just as Brandis let out a wail. Sara let the tears continue to fall. She honestly wondered how she could get through the next twenty-four hour cycle, and then the next one, then the one after that.
“I’ll get him,” she heard him call. When he appeared in the doorway of the study with the squalling baby in his arms, the look on his handsome, well-loved face was blank, as if he were holding someone else’s baby. He handed Brandis to her awkwardly. The automatic, knee-jerk, perfectly natural thought that she couldn’t wait to call Blake, to get his take on Jack’s sudden recalcitrance made her gulp, and sob, her tears dropping onto the baby’s face as she tried to get him to take the bottle Jack had handed before walking out of the room.
About Liz Crowe
Microbrewery owner, multi-published author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz brings years of real-world experience to her life as author. Working in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse PLUS making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer industry) has given her all the "what if?" moments she needs for many books.
When she isn't sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or sweating promotional efforts for her latest publications. When free time presents itself you are likely to find her walking her standard poodles or doing Bikram yoga.
Her beer blog is nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high powered real estate offices. Don't ask her for anything "like" a Budweiser or risk painful injury. If you want an education on all things beer related, follow her beer blog:
www.a2beerwench.com
Liz Crowe's official website can be found at
www.lizcrowe.com
All writing-related topics (including backlist titles, latest release updates, interviews, tour dates, and more) can be found at her blog
www.brewingpassion.com
Follow Liz:
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/lizcroweauthor
Twitter:
@beerwencha2
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