Decode (Luke Series, #7) (5 page)

She stops at the foot of
the bed and I stop close enough so that my chest is pressed against
her back. She sighs as I sweep her hair over her shoulder to expose
the back of her neck.

“I’m sorry I worried
you,” I whisper in her ear. “Let me make it up to you. Let me give
you a honeymoon you’ll never forget.”

Chapter Twelve

Though I know Luke is
telling me the truth, and I have nothing more to fear, I can’t stop
shaking. As if my body is having trouble catching up with the
truth.

“Why are you shaking?” he
whispers as his hand comes to rest on my hip. “Are you okay?”

He turns me around and
his eyes are like a signal flare guiding me back from the depths of
my wrecked soul. I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face
in his shoulder. His arms encircle my shoulders as he holds me
firmly and kisses the top of my head.

“You owe me,” I say, and
the rumble of his laughter is comforting against my cheek. “Where
are we going for our honeymoon?”

“No way. I’ve spent too
long planning this and nearly lost you for this secret. I’m not
giving it away now. But I will tell you that we’re leaving after
the benefit tomorrow and you may want to bring an umbrella.”

I pull my head back to
look at the devilish grin on his face. “Umbrella? It’s not raining
tomorrow.”

“I’ll give you a hint.”
He grabs my hand and twirls me around as he hums a very familiar
tune.

“Oh, my God!
Singing In the Rain
!”

I throw my arms around
his neck and he laughs as he lifts me off the carpet. “I told you
the surprise would be worth it.”

Leaning my head back, I
can’t help but sigh as I realize what an idiot I was to even think
that Luke could cheat on me.

“I’m sorry I doubted
you.”

“I’m sorry I gave you
reason to doubt me.”

I softly press my lips to
his and allow my mouth to hover there for a moment as I breathe him
in. “I trust you,” I whisper, because I know this is what needs to
be said more than anything else.

“I trust you most.”

Chapter Thirteen

The charity dinner for
the Give Love Foundation went spectacular. Of course, any time I
have Brina speak at a benefit, she always wows the crowd and the
donations and partnerships pour in. The show at the Palace Theater
was everything I hoped it would be. I haven’t seen Brina laugh and
smile like that in weeks.

By the time we arrive at
the marina and board the sixty-foot sailing yacht, my tuxedo and
Brina’s red gown have just begun to dry from the soaking we got at
the theater.

“We should have brought a
change of clothes,” Brina says, holding up the damp skirt of her
dress in one hand as I hold her other hand to help her onto the
boat.

A table has been set for
us to have a light dessert and drinks before we retreat below deck.
I guide her toward the table and she shivers as she looks around
the deck.

“This boat is bigger than
yours.”

I ask the waiter to get
her a blanket from below deck as the rest of the crew prepares us
for a midnight sail.

“That hurt my feelings.
Anyway, how do you know it’s bigger than mine? Have you measured my
boat?”

“Yes, once when you were
asleep. I measured your boat.”

She grins and I shake my
head. I wouldn’t put it past her to measure my
boat
while I slept.

The waiter arrives with a
folded wool blanket. I rise from my chair and take the blanket from
him so I can wrap it around Brina’s shoulder. She pulls the edges
tightly and I rub her arms to warm her up.

“Is that better?”

“Yes.”

The waiter uncorks the
champagne and pours us each a glass. Brina holds her blanket close
as she raises her glass.

“What are we toasting
to?” she asks, her teeth still chattering. I have to get her out of
that wet dress.

“We’re toasting to five
years, two months, and nine days of marriage.”

“You were always good
with numbers,” she replies. “How about this? Let’s toast to another
seventy-five years and zero nannies.”

“Zero nannies? What about
the foundation?”

Though the Kingston
Foundation is Brina’s pride and joy, she has often fantasized about
being a stay-at-home mom. She’s never happier than when she’s
spending time with the children. But she has always struggled with
maintaining her own identity and having enough time to be the kind
of mother she feels the children deserve.

“I’m going to take a
hands-off approach from now. I’ll attend the monthly board meetings
to make sure that Ben is adhering to my vision. But I have nothing
to worry about. Ben runs the show better than I ever could.”

I down the rest of my
champagne and rise from my chair. “Let’s talk about this below deck
where it’s warmer.”

I pull her chair out and
wrap my arm around her shoulders as I guide her down the steps into
the cabin. This yacht is much nicer and more spacious than my
sixteen-year-old Columbia, but it still brings back memories from
the first time I ever brought Brina onto my boat. She admitted to
me once that the reason she slept with me just an hour after her
interview at Maxwell Computers six years ago had nothing to do with
the assignment with her former employer, NeoSys. She wanted to feel
close to someone who didn’t know she was responsible for taking her
brother to the hospital where he killed himself.

Brina craves
accomplishment, but more than that, she craves unconditional love.
When you bear the burden and sorrow of a loved one’s death, your
life begins to seem insignificant, until someone else shows you how
much you are needed. The children—and I—need Brina more than the
foundation does.

“Where are you taking
me?” she asks, dropping the blanket to the floor as I take her hand
in mine and pull her farther into the cabin, past the sitting and
dining area and through a tight hallway.

We arrive in the bedroom
and the room is awash in the creamy glow of the candlelight. I
close the bedroom door and wait for her to notice the surprise in
this room as she slowly walks toward the bed.

“This looks very
familiar,” she says as she runs her fingers over the comforter on
the bed.

“What looks familiar?” I
ask as I approach her.

She looks over her
shoulder and grins at me. “The mirrors… on the ceiling.”

I chuckle as I reach up
and slowly slide the strap of her dress off her shoulder. I press
my lips to her smooth skin and she still smells like the artificial
rain from the theater. I slide the zipper down the back of her
dress and it quickly drops at her feet. She isn’t wearing a bra or
panties.

“How is it possible for
someone to be this beautiful?” I say as I trace my fingers lightly
over her hips.

She leans her head back
and rests it on my shoulder as I kiss her neck. My hands slide
forward, caressing her soft belly and luscious breasts. Her skin is
cold from the dampness of the dress, but I’m going to warm her
up.

Sliding my hand between
her legs, I quickly find her spot. She lets out a soft, breathy
gasp as I tease her gently. I kiss her earlobe as I stroke her and
she whimpers, her hands reaching up to grab my hair, searching for
something to hold onto. I slide my fingers inside her and she
writhes against me, which only gets me hotter. I gather her
moisture and stroke her lightly, easing off as soon as I feel her
muscles begin to contract.

I know her body better
than I know my own.

Sliding my hand out from
between her legs, I grab her hips and turn her around. She’s
already warmed up enough that tiny droplets of sweat have beaded on
her chest. She unties my bowtie and I close my eyes as she
continues to undress me.

Once I’m naked, I look
her in the eye. “Lie back.”

She smiles as she
stretches out across the bed and I grab a piece of ice from the
bucket of champagne on the nightstand. Sitting down on the bed, I
hold the ice against her nipple. She gasps, but I don’t remove it
until she whimpers with discomfort. I toss the ice over my shoulder
and lean down to take her nipple into my mouth. Massaging it with
my tongue, I slide my free hand between her legs again, caressing
her until she begins to buck against my hand.

Pulling my hand away
before she can come, I retrieve another piece of ice from the
bucket and perform this same ritual on her other breast. She’s
soaking wet and about to explode, but I won’t allow it. Not until
I’m inside her.

I settle myself between
her legs and she pants heavily with anticipation. Sliding my hand
beneath the small of her back, I lift her gently and groan as I
glide into her.

I lean down to kiss her
slowly as I bob in and out of her with the ease of the calm seas
beneath this boat. This is where I belong.

She grabs my ears and
pulls my head back, her eyebrows scrunched together as she looks me
in the eye.

“I love you,” I
whisper.

“I love you most.”

I lean my forehead
against hers, breathing heavily as we both find our release. We lie
still for a moment before I turn onto my back next to her. We gaze
at our reflections in the mirror above us and suddenly we both
begin to laugh.

“That was much better
than the first time we had sex on a boat.”

“I guess it’s time to get
a bigger boat.”

Chapter Fourteen

Open barrels of coffee
beans stand in the corner of Café Verlet in Paris. Next to the
barrels are display bowls with mounds of crystallized fruits,
individually wrapped nut cakes, crispy thin cookies. The atmosphere
is thick with the aroma of coffee and alive with chatter as patrons
enjoy their coffees and each other’s company. This is not the quiet
atmosphere of Greene’s Coffee and Tea, but I think that’s a good
thing today.

A woman in a black
sleeveless top and colorful scarf arrives at our table with our
espressos. She sets them down in front of us and smiles without
uttering a word, aware that neither Luke nor I speak French very
well. Though, we were able to place our order easily enough. It
seems espresso is one of those universal words that almost everyone
understands, like “Coke” or “okay.”

While most Americans were
fast asleep at nine o’clock, Paris time, Luke and I were enjoying
the view from the balcony of our Presidential suite, while enjoying
each other. Now, as I sit here with a steaming cup of espresso in
front of me, I can’t help but recall my first trip to Greene’s
Coffee and Tea with Luke. I gulped down my espresso on that date
and Luke vowed he would get me to appreciate espresso the right
way—slowly.

I bring the tiny
porcelain cup to my mouth and the moment it touches my lips, Lucas
pulls down on my sleeve and whines. “Mommy, this cocoa is too
hot.”

“You have to be patient,
baby,” I say as I set down my cup and use a napkin to wipe the
drops of espresso that spilled onto my jeans. “Just blow on your
cocoa as you wait for it to cool.”

Luke grins at me. Rhianne
is sitting in his lap and she giggles softly as he plants a loud
kiss on her cheek. No more nannies meant bringing the kids along on
our second honeymoon, but I wouldn’t have wanted it any other
way.

Maybe espresso is one of
those universal words because it’s a little like life. You have to
enjoy life slowly, savoring every single moment so you don’t miss
anything important. Like your brother’s despair and your own
self-destruction. Like surprise honeymoons and your kids growing up
before your very eyes.

Slow down, pay attention,
and drink it in. And don’t forget to share it with the ones you
love.

LUKE SERIES PLAYLIST

Daydreamer by Adele

Twice by Little Dragon

This Love Will Be Your
Downfall by Ellie Goulding

Everything and Nothing by The
Boom Circuits

Bullet Train by Stephen Swartz
(feat. Joni Fatora)

Sometime Around Midnight by
The Airborne Toxic Event

Eyes by Kaskade (featuring
Mindy Gledhill)

Decode (Acoustic Version) by
Paramore

House of Cards by
Radiohead

Leave the Lights On by Meiko
(Culture Code Remix)

Can’t Keep Your Mind Off by
Data Romance

Turning Page by Sleeping At
Last

Hallelujah (Acoustic Version)
by Paramore

Listen to the playlist on
YouTube
.

Listen to the playlist on Spotify.

Thank you, once again, to the most
awesome beta readers on the planet. I know I’m not the easiest
author to work with and you all are saints for dealing with me
leaving you with one cliffhanger after another.