Until Trevor (24 page)

“But I
—”

“No
. Move them, and I stop.” He bites my lip, pulling it through his teeth; his hands at the bottom of the tee lift it slowly up my waist, and then over my breasts, and finally over my head and arms. Once I'm shirtless, his fingers begin working on the button of my jeans. Once free, he tugs them over my hips, but doesn’t pull them all the way off, keeping my thighs bound together by my jeans. “Remember, don’t move your hands,” he says against my ear, his breath causing goose bumps to break out over my skin.

His
body leaves me, his hands going to the buttons of his shirt. Once he’s done, he pulls it off, tossing it onto the floor. His thumb travels over my bottom lip, down my chin, his hand opening over my neck, his other hand following the same path until my breasts are in his hands. “You’re beautiful, baby; but your tits are fucking amazing.” He leans forward, licking over one nipple, then the other. My stomach is in knots. I can feel myself clench, my clit throbbing, begging for attention. I love when he’s like this; it’s hotter than any book I’ve ever read.

His
mouth comes back to mine, his body pressing me hard against the wall, his hands on my face controlling my every move. One hand travels down along the side of my neck, along the side of my breast, my ribs, and my hip, playing along the edge of my panties, fingers tracing the lacy edge below my belly button.

“Please touch me
,” I beg, wanting to feel his fingers on me, and in me.

“I will
,” he says, but doesn’t move his hand from the edge of my panties. His other hand knots in the back of my hair, pulling my head back and deepening the kiss. I feel his fingers slowly lower, until one lightly runs over my clit, making my hips jump forward towards his hand. His finger continues to graze over my clit, while his mouth works over mine, licking and biting. When he presses two fingers inside me, I moan into his mouth, my hips bucking, trying to urge him on. He pulls away, sliding slowly over my clit again.

“Stop teasing me.” I was so close.

“You want to come?”

“Yes
,” I hiss when his fingers move quicker. I can feel the hard length of him press into my side; my hands above my head itch to touch him. Finally, I go off; the moan that escapes my mouth into his sounds wild. I can feel myself trying to pull his fingers deeper. When he pulls his hand away, I sag against the wall, my body feeling limp. The aftershocks of my orgasm still thumping through my blood, I don’t even notice when he pulls my pants completely off until my leg is being tossed over his shoulder and his mouth is latching onto me. I look down at him; his face buried between my legs, the sight alone causing a second orgasm. “Oh God!” My head falls back against the wall; my hands lower to his head, my hands running over his hair. Two fingers enter me quickly, and I scream his name, thrashing my head back and forth, trying to push him away. “It’s too much! Please, it’s too much.” I try to move, but he holds me tighter, his fingers moving faster inside of me.

W
hen he sucks on my clit, I swear that I'm going to pass out. He drops my leg, and he presses his body tightly to mine, holding me up. I can hear his zipper, then I'm lifted; my legs circle his hips, and he pulls me down, impaling me on him. “Fuck,” he growls, lifting and lowering me onto him. I pull his mouth to mine, biting first his top, then his bottom lip, before my tongue seeks his.

His hips start thrusting faster
. “You’re so perfect.” My face goes into his neck, my body wrapping completely around him. There is not one part of us that isn’t touching. I suck on his neck, and when I feel my orgasm begin to build again, he presses me deeper into the wall; his hand comes between our sweat-soaked bodies, his thumb pressing into my clit. “You need to come with me.”

“I know
,” I breathe, lifting my head and watching his face. His eyes are dark, his skin glistening with sweat. We stare at each other, his thumb moving in faster circles. I can feel myself begin to tighten around him. He slows down, letting me feel every inch of him slide in and out of me; the head of his cock dragging against my g-spot, causing my orgasm to slam into me without warning. His hand goes back to my ass as he starts rocking hard and fast, lifting and dropping me onto him. I can feel him expand inside me, his hands squeezing me so hard I know I will have his fingerprints on my skin when this is over. His movements start to become erratic right before he plants himself inside me, roaring my name. His face goes into my neck; our breathing is labored and our bodies are covered in sweat. The coolness of the wall behind me feels amazing against my overheated skin. He turns us around, then slides down the wall, sitting on the floor.

“I don’t know how I got so luck
y,” he says into my neck, causing goose bumps to break out over my skin.

“I’m the lucky one.” I tell him honestly
. I never knew that I would find someone who loved me so completely, who made me feel beautiful, safe, and important.

“No
.” He lifts his head, and pulling mine from his neck, his hands hold my face gently. “I’m the lucky one. I didn’t think that I would ever want someone to have the kind of power over me that you hold. I know that my future is going to be amazing because you’re going to be by my side; and with you, everything is better,” he says, leaning in, touching his mouth to mine. When he pulls away, I feel tears falling down my cheeks.

“Ditto
,” I say on a sob, shoving my face back into his neck.

“Jesus
. I love you so fucking much; you would think I was growing a vagina.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible,” he whispers, kissing my head. “Let’s get up and shower.”

“You
’ll have to carry me.”

“My pants are around my ankles
. If I try carrying you right now, we’re both going to end up on the floor.”

“Okay
. Let me see if my legs work.” I untangle myself from around his hips.

“I hate that.”

“What?” I ask, my eyebrows drawing together. I pick up his flannel shirt and put it on, wrapping it around me like a robe.

“Your heat
, I hate losing it.” He stands, pulling up his jeans; and I wrap my arms around him, shoving my face into his chest, breathing him in. “Shower,” he says, swinging me up into his arms, carrying me into the bathroom. That night after we stripped the bed, Trevor in his normal position, his body on top of mine—I thank my dad for sending me a man like Trevor. I don’t know why, but I know that he has something to do with Trevor being placed in my life.

Chapter
11

Trevor

"I thought we
talked about this?" I look at Liz, and then back down at the round case of pills that are taunting me from the counter. I told her that I want to start working on getting her pregnant. I need to know that she is tied to me in a way that is unbreakable. Yeah, she has my ring on her finger, and in a week she'll have my last name. But that's not going to be enough. It might make me a controlling dick, but I need it. I have to know that we have something to tie us together through eternity.

"No
,
you
talked about it. You said what you wanted, and I told you that I don't want the same thing."

"Baby
, I know you want the same thing as me."

"In Trevor's universe
, I'm sure you think that." She stands, taking her plate to the sink.

"You love July."
My anger is starting to surface, and I know that I need to stop before I say something I can’t take back.

"I do," she whispers
. I can see tears forming in her eyes.

"Talk to me
; tell me what the fuck is going through your head?" I yell. Her eyes meet mine, and there is so much pain looking back at me that I flinch.

"I can't do it
," she whispers, right before she runs out of the house. It takes a second to realize that the sound I hear is her car spitting up gravel in the driveway. "Fuck!" I roar, picking up her pill case and crushing it in my fist, before I throw them across the room, grab my keys, and head out to find my fiancée.

I
have driven all over town, and called everyone and anyone who might know where Liz is, but no one has heard a word from her. Logically, I know that she's okay, but I feel sick with worry and know I won't be able to breathe easy until I can see her and touch her. Something in my brain makes me drive by the cemetery where her father is buried. When I see her car parked outside the gate, all the things I didn't understand, the things she has been keeping bottled up, slide into place. Shutting off the engine, I hop out of the truck and walk through the giant iron gates. I look to the left, seeing a bright blue blur off in the distance. When I get closer, I see Liz kneeling, her head to the ground in front of her father’s grave. Watching her small body shaking with sobs, my gut tightens, and my stomach drops. Seeing the woman I love in this kind of pain kills me. Once I reach her, I pull her into my arms, breathing her in.

"I can't do it
. I love you, but I can't have your baby," she cries, her voice filled with so much pain that it feels like my skin is splitting open.

"Baby
, what happened to your mom and dad is not going to happen to me and you." I feel her trying to climb into me; I hold her closer, trying to absorb some of her pain. "Your dad would want you to be as happy as possible," I whisper into her hair, running my hands up and down her back, trying to comfort her.

"
I’m af–afraid that I’ll leave a kid behind like I was left behind. I d–d–don’t want that to happen," she stutters out, her body rocking against mine with the strength of her tears.

"Breath
e, baby." I'm trying to speak quietly, stroking my hand down her back. "You know that we can't predict the future, but you and I not sharing the love that we have for each other with a life that we create together would be devastating to me. I love you so much more than I ever thought was possible to love another person. You have made me a better person, taught me that love—real love—is unconditional, and has no strings attached, and is given without expecting anything in return." I pull her face away from my body so I can see her eyes. "I want to share everything with you. All the good and the bad that life has to offer, I want you by my side for all of it.

"What happens if one or both of us dies
? What happens then?"

"
You can't live your life thinking ’what if‘. There are too many variables." I tell her honestly. "Do you think that if your dad knew that he was going to leave you while he was still young, while you were still young, that he wouldn't have wanted the time he had with you, Tim, and your mom? Or do you think that even with his time cut short, that he appreciated every single second that he had with y’all, knowing that he had his family and people who loved him.”

“He left me
!” She cries harder.

“He did leave
, but he never left you. He is always with you.”

“I miss him.”

“I know you do, baby,” I struggle out against the lump in my throat. “I know you do.”

“I don’t want anyone to miss me.” Her words are so quiet
, that I hardly make them out.

“If something happened to you
, I wouldn’t know how to go on without you. I would miss you every day; so would everyone else that you have given even the smallest amount of your time to. Every person you come in contact with is lucky to know someone like you. Knowing the kind of woman you are lets me know that when you become the mother to our children, they will be lucky, because you love so completely with everything you have.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Tell me,” I say, pulling her face out of my neck, looking into her eyes. As much as it would kill me to not have a child with her, if that is what she truly wanted, I would do it for her. “You don’t want a baby?” Her face goes slack; tears start to fall harder.

“
When I think about never having a baby, it makes me feel sick,” she whispers. “But when I think about having a baby, I feel panic.” I nod my head in understanding.

“Have you ever talked to anyone about losing your dad?” She shakes her head. “Would you,
if I went with you?”

“Do you think
I’m crazy?”

“No
, baby. I think that you haven’t ever had a chance to deal with losing your dad. Maybe talking to someone will help you get some closure.”

“I’m not ready to have a baby
, Trevor. I love you and know that it’s something that you want, but I just…I’m not ready. I don’t know if I will ever be ready.” As much as her words make my heart ache, I know she’s right. Until she is completely ready, it wouldn’t be fair to force something on her that could give her anxiety; especially when it is supposed to be something that is celebrated.

“When
, or if, you’re ever ready, we will talk about it then.”

“I don’t want to prevent you from having a family.”

“You’re my family, and if you’re all I have for the rest of my days, I will be okay with that.” She starts crying again, this time harder than before. “It will be okay, baby. One day at a time, we will work through this.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere; not without you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” I say back. “Let’s go home.”

“Please.”
I walk back out of the cemetery with Liz tucked under my arm. When we reach her car, I look down at her. Her beautiful eyes are puffy and red; she looks exhausted.

“I’m gonna call the boys and have them come get your car
to bring it home so you don’t have to drive.”

“I’m okay.”

“I know, but you’re not driving. Get in the truck; I’m going to move your car over to the parking lot.”

“Fine
,” she grumbles, making me smile for the first time today.

“Be right back.” I open the truck door
, lifting her in, pull her face down to mine, and give her a quick kiss, before slamming the door closed. I jog to her car, slide behind the wheel, pull it into the parking lot, and shove the keys under the seat. I call Nico, asking him if he can have someone drop him off and drive Liz’s car home for me. He agrees immediately; I hang up and jog back across the parking lot to where my truck is parked in front of the cemetery, open the door, and slide in. “How do you feel about taking a nap?” I ask, pulling her across the seat by the waist of her jeans.

“I could use a nap
, but I’m supposed to meet the seamstress for my last fitting.” As soon as the words are out, her body stiffens. I can see the wheels in her head turning.

“If you even think for one fucking minute that we
’re not getting married next week, you’re out of your damn mind,” I growl, a little more anger leaking into my words than I wanted, but fuck that; we’re getting married.

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck yes.” I watch as she chews her lower lip, her eyes coming to mine. “I told you before that one way or another, we’re getting married. Even if I have to drag you down the damn aisle, you will have my last name in a week.”

“Then I need to go have my last fitting.”

“What time?” She looks at the dash, then back to me.

“Six.”

“Alright, we have a few hours. We can go home and relax till then.” I put the truck in drive, flipping a U-turn onto the main road. Once on the road, I pull her under my arm; her head lays against my chest, and the silence of the cab allows me to concentrate on her even breathing, the sound so soothing that my body relaxes, and I just enjoy the feel of her next to me. The entire way home, I think for the first time how easily this could be lost, and how lost I would be without it.

*~*~*

It’s been five days since Liz broke down about having a baby. Five days of wedding planning, lots of laughter, and tons of family. Tomorrow, I marry the woman I will be spending the rest of my life with. This last week has been good for Liz—for the both of us, really. For the first time ever, Liz spoke to her mom about her father’s death. Her mom surprised Liz by telling her that shortly after she and Liz started to rebuild their relationship, she started seeing a counselor to help her work through the grief she was feeling. I was pissed when Liz told me this, mad that she never thought to have her children talk to someone about their own feelings and what they were going through. I wanted to rage about the situation, but logically knew it would do no one any good to have me flip the fuck out about something that happened years ago.

After Liz talked with her mom
, she agreed that it was time to talk to someone about how she’s been feeling, and the fear she lives with every day, thinking that something bad is going to happen to her or someone she loves. I never knew how much she had been holding in until the day of her first session, two days after her breakdown in the cemetery. She called me, asking if I could come get her from the building where her doctor’s practice was. I could hear the tears in her voice when I answered; she sounded so lost. When we got home, she opened up about the conversation she had with her doctor. She said he explained that she had a form of anxiety, and a mild case of PTSD, brought on by the loss of her father and the lack of acceptance from her mother after his death. The doctor explained that with sessions and medication, she would be able to learn how to process what she is feeling in a positive manner, instead of trying to bury it the way she always has. I know that it’s going to be a lot of work for her, but I also know my woman is strong and can handle anything; and if there is ever a point when she thinks she won’t be able to make it, I will pick her up and carry her.

“Baby
, seriously, hurry the fuck up. We’re already late!” I yell down the hall towards the bedroom.

“Hold your
damn horses, Trevor!” she yells back, making me smile.

“You really going to ma
ke us late to our own rehearsal dinner?”

“If you wou
ld stop bugging me, I would be ready already,” she yells back, making me laugh. I walk to the fridge, pull out a beer, pop the top, and look down at Lolly, who is watching me, waiting for the treat she knows I’m going to give her. I lean over the counter, lift the lid on the treat jar, listening to Lolly’s tail as she beats a hole in the floor. “You should at least give her a command when you give her a treat, so she knows why she’s getting it,” Liz says. My head comes up, and my dick becomes instantly hard. My mouth falls open, and my gut clenches at the sight of her. The navy blue all-lace dress is completely form–fitting; the neck is square-cut right above her cleavage, under her collarbones. Her long blonde hair flows over her shoulders and breasts. The sleeves are long, to her wrists, and the hem reaches mid–thigh, drawing attention to her long legs.

“Do you have anything on under that?” I ask
, looking her over. My eyes fall on her shoes; they are tall, with straps wrapping around her ankles, and a heel that I want to feel in my back later tonight.

“Yes
, it’s made to look like you don’t have anything on under it.”

“I don’t know if I should let you out of the house looking like you do right now.”

“What?”

“Every man who sees you is going to be
picturing you naked under it.”

“You’re the only one who gets to see me naked
,” she smiles.

“Come here.”

“I’m right here,” she says, taking stuff from one bag and putting it into another, not even looking up at me.

“And I want you right here
,” I tell her, leaning over the counter and grabbing her hand, dragging her over to me.