Continuum Page 14

  All he could ever need was inside that house — except Constance. He should’ve been preparing to have a dance with his mother, but she was missing it, and he was missing her, but he was thankful she no longer suffered. Content he felt his mother’s blessing, he heard her approval in his mind the way it would’ve sounded flowing off her sharp tongue. It made him snicker.

  Actually, it was Maggie’s approval that had reminded him.

  Stepping into the living room, a third song beginning, Cal pulled Maggie toward him and placed an arm behind her shoulder blades. He held Margaret Oppenheimer close as they moved across the dance floor — the way he always used to.

  Maggie had moved the party along, taking full charge of the room, having done so with minimal effort. The food, cake, and champagne had all been consumed.

  A comfort permeated the downstairs of the home — a place to feel true safety. To feel loved. Friends and family were so busy chatting it seemed no one wanted it to end.

  Except Annie.

  After a couple of hours had passed, she was finally ready for the celebration to come to a close.

  Cal had noticed it when he entered the den.

  It held a circle of women — beautiful, amazing, strong women. His woman, his wife, was leaning her weary head against Rosa’s shoulder while her gaze blurred at a painting on the wall between the opening of Michelle’s and Sophia’s bodies.

  She’d never admit to wanting to leave.

  "Your wife is tired, Cal.” Rosa had been stroking Annie’s hair. “You need to get her off her feet.”

  "Ten cuidado, Rosa. My wife doesn't like it when people suggest that." He smirked, taking command of the room with his presence and honeycomb in his tone. It made Annie smile, but she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

  “Suggest what, mi hijo?”

  “That she rest.”

  Cal knew without a doubt she was ready to go, and he also knew she was far too stubborn to admit it. Her disposition amused him, pleased him. He tuned out the hen-cackling and began to daydream, wondering and thinking, mentally counting back the months he’d known Annie.

  He reached June.

  My God, he thought. It had only been nine months since he’d first beheld Annie’s quintessential face in the very house they stood in.

  Nine months.

  He ran his hand over her back, recalling the way her skin had felt and the way her eyes radiated, specifically when he’d told her he wanted her on the porch in the moonlight. He’d had no idea just how much he would want her.

  Now, he stood pressed against her, not just wanting, but needing and loving … fucking consumed.

  Annie had never left his mind, and now she would never leave his heart. He couldn’t imagine his life without her in it, not seeing her face … her eyes, her soul.

  He couldn’t believe his life as it was today.

  It had changed.

  It was different.

  Better.

  He was astounded and couldn't hide it.

  “What are you thinking?” Michelle asked Cal.

  “He’s thinking about taking Annie home.” Tabitha smirked.

  “Mmm.” Annie began to yawn. “I can’t wait to go home-home. To my own bed.”

  “I forgot you’ve been here two weeks. Then Cal must really be ready to take you home.” Tab wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Stop it,” Annie groaned as a limb moved against the wall of her uterus. The body part could be seen through the satin of her dress, poking and prodding.

  “The baby is really moving a lot. You should feel it, T.”

  As Cal smiled and removed his hand, Tabitha put her palm on Annie’s beautiful, round belly just in time for a firm thump to grate against her fingers. The other women became quiet, watching the friends’ exchange.

  “You’re going to be a mommy,” Tab said, a sisterly awe filling her tone.

  “You’ve said that to me like a million times, Tabitha.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  Annie watched her friend experience the movement of the life growing inside her, and even though Tab had said those words to her almost a million times, the impact was greater now than at any prior moment.

  “I’m going to miss you.” Tears pooled in Annie’s eyes.

  “Don’t start on me.” Tab fought the weeping. “I don’t want to end this wedding business crying like a big sissy.”

  “You are a big sissy. You’re my big sissy.” Annie squeezed Tab’s hand.

  They embraced and then dried their eyes.

  “You promise you’ll call as soon as you go into labor?” stern Tabitha said.

  “We have some time—”

  “Promise me!”

  “Yes, Tab, I promise.”

  “I think we’re ready to leave, ladies,” Cal said, catching his wife’s eye.

  The women hemmed and hawed, and then they began to dole out hugs and kisses one by one. Beverly took hers last, squeezing her daughter’s neck harder than Annie could ever recall.

  “Find your father,” Beverly whispered with an unusual strain of emotion. "I love you."

  The newlyweds found Albert in the kitchen, finishing off a martini, and then they found other loved ones and bid each guest a fond and personal farewell.

  Albert and John insisted on walking them to the front door. They knew Cal and Annie had requested a quiet departure without the typical post-reception fanfare.

  “You’ll message me when you get back to Seattle?” Albert asked, flanked by the spectacular staircase and his daughter.

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “You won’t forget?”

  “I’ll make sure she doesn’t forget.” Cal smiled at Albert.

  “Good.”

  “Thank Maggie again, John." Annie's cheeks warmed. "For everything."

  “It’s chilly out tonight. Do you have a jacket?” Albert interrupted.

  “I’ll be fine. Cal has a jacket.”

  “Maggie has been consumed with this thing for weeks," John said, looking back and forth between father and daughter. "I don’t know what she’s going to do with herself now that it’s over." The blue-gray of his eyes twinkled. “You know she loves it, Annie, and she loves you.”

  “I love you both,” she whispered and leaned forward, planting a kiss on John’s cheek, his finely groomed silver mustache tickling her skin.

  She turned to her father. “I love you, Dad.”

  He kissed her cheek. “Ah, there’s so much love here tonight.” Albert gazed at Annie, his eyes glossing. “Well, you just better get out of here, Doodlebug, before you make us all weep.”

  “It’s too late for that.” Cal extended his hand to Albert and gave it a firm shake.

  The men smiled and patted Cal on the back simultaneously, and then they watched the newly minted couple leave.

  Only a second passed after Annie shut the front door, and Cal had hemmed her in against it. She hadn’t even turned around.

  Goosebumps formed over her skin. Her father had been right. The air was unusually cool. The humidity was low. A soft breeze churned, rustling the leaves in the trees, blowing the hem of her dress and tips of her hair.

  But as her husband hovered over her — his front to her back, arms on each side of her body — he warmed her instantly. Cal was the real reason she had little pinheads popping up all over her body.

  The way he felt when he pressed behind her was indescribable.

  Anticipation like no other. Better than any sheer drop off a cliff of the tallest of rollercoasters.

  The magnets of their skin twisted and pulled, attacking nerve endings. The fatigue she’d felt moments ago was replaced in a flash with an invigorating excitement. A sexual crackle.

  This was exactly why she’d wanted to be apart before the wedding.

  Delayed gratification. An orgasm to rattle the universe off its axis.

  Although on fire, Annie froze, moving only her head to her right, then over her shoulder as she gazed back at him.

  "If y
ou don't think I haven't been anything but mad for you these last few weeks, then I don't know what else to say." Cal’s voice held a roughness. Placing all his fingers over her back, he slid the tips down her skin like a skilled musician playing piano keys.

  A smirk on her face, Annie turned all the way around. So … he wanted to pick up their conversation from exactly where they’d left it on the dance floor.

  "I don't know what you want." Cal sighed and gave her some space. "You asked me not to touch you for two weeks."

  "You've always known. I want you just as you've always been with me. I'm the same.” She begged him with her words and eyes to have his way. She wouldn't break into little pregnant pieces.

  Cal put his forehead against Annie's, gripped her waist, and slipped his fingers around to her butt cheeks. He cupped them over the silkiness of the gown, squeezing hard as he pressed her body against the door — still with a bit of caution. After kissing her lips slowly, multiple times, he pulled his head away so he could gaze into her eyes.

  "Fuck, Annie, don't look at me like that. It's our wedding night." What the fuck does that mean? she wondered as he spoke. "I want to do this right."

  Right. He needed to take his big, pregnant wife back to their waiting wedding suite and make love to her with a heaping cup of ginger, another cup of delicacy, and a dose of proper — on the king-sized bed. Vanilla-flavored sex was what he was suggesting.

  Annie, however, wanted sex as it had always been between them: spontaneous, exciting, rough … kinky.

  "Since when do you care about some outdated, misguided version of sexual etiquette?" She gave him a precarious smirk and lifted a brow.

  Cal’s reply was a glance down at her small, round, beautiful stomach. No smile, eyes full of inexplicable love and tenderness, he put a hand over her womb, and as he did, the baby kicked against his palm.

  Annie swallowed.

  And it hurt.

  It cut.

  God … this man. He would walk through fire for his family.

  The love in his heart moved her beyond words. She wanted the feelings to translate into action. She wanted nothing more than Cal’s extreme forthrightness.

  She needed it.

  Craved it.

  She didn’t want the baby to circumvent the forwardness, the brazenness, or the utter haste they always had to be together. She wasn’t ready for the baby to change the dynamic between them already. The little critter hadn't even hatched. God, she wasn’t ready for life to change them.

  Not. Yet.

  She needed Cal’s urgency.

  His directness.

  She needed to know he demanded her attention, and she needed it now more than ever.

  Annie desired to be reminded that her body was more than just a housing unit. She put her hand on Cal’s chin and lifted his head to meet her gaze.

  "I'm the same, Cal.”

  His name had barely left her mouth, and he put his lips on hers, kissing her with two weeks’ worth of passion while pushing her into the door much, much harder than before.

  Her body felt constricted, and her back rubbed against the grain with a harshness she loved. Holy fuck. The slow suffocation of his touch, the roughness of the wood, the feel of his weight against her — commanding her body, owning her — all sent her straight to euphoria.

  Cal suddenly paused, looked at her lips, and then he began nibbling them, savoring each caress and brush of their skin.

  This was what he excelled at: making her wait and squirm, possessing her, wielding the control like a chess master.

  He refused her his tongue, made her ache and twist and writhe. Grazing his nose along the contours of her face, he wet her cheeks, then moved his head from side to side, breathing over her skin while whispering I love yous and hoarse compliments.

  The slightest hesitation was still worn across his face as he looked into her soul, staring into her eyes, getting lost in them.

  And then.

  In an instant.

  He lifted her arm above her head and slammed it against the door, causing her to pant and heave.

  His strength protected her. Kept her safe in their bubble.

  "You want this now, Annie?" Cal kissed and bit her neck.

  "Yes," she whimpered, nodding.

  "Where?” He slammed her other wrist against the door, applied more pressure, and wrapped his fingers through hers. “Where do you want to be fucked, Mrs. Prescott?" he growled.

  Did it matter where? He was already penetrating her fully clothed against the door — with his eyes and the sound of his goddamn voice.

  “Kiss me again," she said.

  His tongue went into her mouth, striking like a bolt of lightning. It curled around her tongue, searching, tasting, taking, and giving — throbbing and aching only for her.

  Several seconds later, Annie broke their bruising kiss.

  “In the limo," she panted.

  The moment he dropped her hands, she reached below his belt, grabbed onto his dick through his trousers, and began to stroke him. “Oh, God, I need you now," she moaned. "Fuck me, baby, please." Trembling, she trailed off, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

  Cal removed her hand from his dick and quieted her as he led her to the limousine, kissed her cheek, and bunched strands of her hair inside his palm. He whispered near her ear as they walked, “You’re beautiful, baby. I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she said in the same subdued hush, feeling serene, as though she’d already climaxed.

  Cal shielded his erection and smile from the driver — Carl had been unavailable, but he’d wished them well — asking that they be transported to their destination undisturbed. The chauffeur sat down behind the wheel of the long, dark stretch limo and started the motor as Cal opened the passenger door at the rear. The partition in the front was up. Annie put her foot on the side rail and started to get in.

  "Wait." Cal yanked on her hand, and she stopped, put her foot on the ground, and stared at him. He put his hands on her hips and tugged at the sides of her satin dress. "Take off your panties."

  "You take them off." She smiled. "I'm like a million years pregnant."

  Cal grinned, but as he began to gather up the material of her dress, Annie suddenly pushed against his wrists.

  "What?"

  "Come here." She wiggled her index finger.

  She pulled his shirt from his pants, ran her fingers over his abs, and then she stood on her toes and put her mouth near his ear.

  "I want you to take my panties off the way you did the first time we were together.”

  Cal cocked his head and smiled. "You're insatiable."

  She smirked, pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and tossed it into the car. Cal palmed Annie's cheek while looking into her eyes, and then he proceeded to lower himself to his haunches, trailing his face down the front of her body very slowly — just as he’d done the first night he made love to her.

  The touch of his hands on her bare thighs caused her to tremble. She clutched the open door to steady herself as she recalled the first night in his kitchen. His breath had been over her skin, warm and inviting. The anticipation. The throbbing. The heart beating out of her chest. An immaculate, crushing need.

  Many of the moments they’d shared together flashed before her mind’s eye, and a series of several different, tangling emotions hit her like a brick falling from the top floor of a skyscraper. The feelings were almost indescribable. Hard to articulate.

  Define it, Annie. Not. Now. Yes. Now.

  Cal stood tall, panties in his closed fist, an accomplished smile across his face while Annie, for a change, wore a somber expression. Her life had transformed so much over the past two years. The man before her eyes was new and fresh. And old — not in age or mind, but an old soul to her complementary spirit. Old as a symbol to the way she felt she’d always known him.

  Had they always existed together in the universe? Holding hands, magnets binding.

  Annie’s eyes were transfixed b
y his face — his mouth, his eyes, and his skin — while the thoughts continued pouring in on her like a warm summer rain.

  A death, a lover, a husband, a baby, and a best friend. One best friend lost and another gained.

  A baby, a baby, a baby.

  Her mind went over that particular word multiple times. A baby. Her body reminded her of him with the gentle pull she felt in her abdomen, between her thighs, and pressing into her groin.

  Annie’s throat swelled as it had the first time Cal had said he wanted her on the porch in the moonlight at Maggie's. It swelled the way it almost always had when he was near. Except now the wanting — it was so much more.

  She wanted him now.

  Always.

  She wanted him forever.

  The want was so much more than a physical need. It was a need. A part of her very being. It transcended anything she’d ever known or experienced.

  While Annie contemplated many of the events of the last two years, Cal watched the look of each change flit over her face and through her eyes.

  Tears welled up in them, and they sat in puddles like change in a pocket about to overflow.

  He threw her underwear into the car and put his hand over her cheek, resting it there like a shield, ready to fend off any attacker. The warmth of his fingers and the security of his touch pulsated into her body. Her eyes moved back and forth, imploring him desperately for a consolation.

  “Annie, what is it?” Cal whispered, his voice cracking.

  She wiped away the tears now dripping down her cheeks and onto Cal's hand. He rubbed some of the moisture away with his thumb while she gently shook her head.

  “What is it, baby?” He placed his hands on her hips, wiggling her sides. The earnestness in Cal’s voice was stronger, more apparent, as he searched her gaze.

  Beginning to twirl the jewelry on her wrist, Annie looked away, dazed, watching the beaded, aqua-blue bracelet Peter had given her rotate. She’d worn it the first night Cal had been inside her. The gift gave her courage. She carried it everywhere. The talisman didn’t seem to be working now.

  Where was her strength?

  Her mind was muddled, and her eyes were spellbound, focused on the way the beads glistened in the moonlight, the way they complemented Cal's shirt, and the way they looked as she turned the bracelet round and round and round.