Endless Love by Bianca Borell
Chapter Fourteen
BRIA
With the moon ascending, the city falls asleep while we lose ourselves in the other’s embrace.
Damien retires to his office while I start my mission to find some old photo albums when it hits me, he must keep them hidden from potentially prying eyes. I step inside his office while his eyes follow me.
Face to face with a safe, I tilt my head, thinking of combinations. I sense him behind me—it’s in the air's shift, the leap of my heart, the sizzling of my skin—and I peer at him over my shoulder. Propped against the wall, he tucks his hands in his pockets. He prods me with a sway of his chin to press the buttons. I type in my birthdate, and the click it produces flies from my ears to my heart. I open it and pick up the photo album.
He backtracks to his desk, and I sit in a comfortable, black leather armchair. This is how we spend the next two hours, me lost in another time and love, and him engrossed in the now and his responsibilities. With every picture and every page I turn, I relive the memories. Page after page of life, love, and the past.
I drift into a peaceful sleep, not even waking up when his arms envelop me as he carries me to bed. He undresses me and tucks me in, and then sleep drags me in further.
***
The first sun rays caress my face, awakening me.
I stretch and find Damien shift beside me, his legs wrapped around mine as one arm wraps possessively around my waist. I roll to him, and his penetrating steel eyes peel back every layer of my soul and strip my heart open for him to greet me. He leans in and kisses me.
“Morning, baby.”
“Morning, love.”
My lips curl up on instinct at waking up next to him.
“Did you sleep well?”
“I only remember falling asleep in the office. Thank you for bringing me to bed.”
“And what a pleasure it is to carry you to bed,” he says, his mouth twitching into a proud smile.
We lay in bed, staring at each other for a little longer, enjoying the togetherness, before showering.
The entire day goes as smoothly as the start. Our joy is almost tangible. We cuddle and lie for hours on the couch wrapped in each other as we let ballads echo around us, deep, raw voices singing about loss, love, and hope.
***
The day of our big announcement catches us making fun of parents and their obliviousness as we get dressed and prepare for our departure, with Stephanie ironing and folding our clothes for the trip in the other room. She’s the silent type, doing her work diligently, and I admire that about her.
After packing some clothes for London, and with the suitcases ready for the next day, we leave the condo hand in hand. In the underground parking lot, Damien opens the door to his black GranCabrio Maserati and drives to our parents.
Everyone is already there. Our parents and Quinn chat as our siblings and Alex make plans for the weekend. We approach them, and they greet us with smiles plastered on their faces. We hug and take our seats. After Damien pours us some wine, I peck him on the lips.
Our mothers have tears in their eyes as the men in my life nod in approval, and Sophia squeals. Damien, at the exact moment when everyone’s gaze is on us, raises my hand, beaming, and says, “Family, she said yes.”
The ones already knowing smile at us, and Quinn’s eyes filling with happiness for me warm my heart. Our mothers blink at us, and they both rise to their feet, rushing to us.
“I’m so happy for you two. I never thought this day would come,” says my mother, her feelings speak loudly with the tears welling in her eyes, and I can’t contain mine. They don’t stop falling when my future mother-in-law hugs me. Love surrounds me, shaking me to my core, and her words are something I will never forget.
“Thank you for making my baby boy a happy man. I will be forever grateful to you. Welcome back to our family.”
Our fathers battle with their own emotions, and when they come to congratulate us, it’s with pride and love shining in their eyes. I hoped for this kind of reaction and I breathe relieved. My brother and Sophia shout their congratulations as the four of us embrace. I don’t have to search long for Quinn and Alex. They stand beside each other and I walk toward them as they open their arms in invitation.
Quinn kisses me on my temple. It’s such a sweet gesture, and I smile in the arms of the one man who saw me evolve into a woman.
“Congratulations, you two.”
He shakes hands with Damien. His look turns threatening. I’m sure he guessed the meaning too.
“Harm her, and I will find you, and it won’t be good for you.”
What Quinn doesn’t know is Damien would never hurt me again, intentionally at least. In the arms of Alex, I let peacefulness take me in.
“Who would have thought? Are you happy, Bria?”
His eyes seek mine, needing for me to give him more than a nod as being the one obsessed with my wellbeing.
“I am like I never expected I would be again. Thank you. Without you, I wouldn’t be here.” Alex waves me off with a hand gesture, reminding me once again how incredible he is.
“Thank you, Alexander.”
Damien extends his hand toward him, while Alex sways his chin in acknowledgment, shaking his hand. I’m proud of Damien. We both appreciate what he did, even though I’m not sure I want to hear the length he went for it.
“It’s Alex for family and friends.”
Damien’s expression turns to surprise. I’m sure he didn’t expect such a friendly answer, but I love my best friend even more for that. He nods and says, “Okay then, Alex.”
“And something else.” Alex’s voice drops as he whispers something to Damien, but I only hear Damien’s answer.
“It will never happen. I can guarantee you.”
“Good, then.”
My mother and Rebecca ask to see the ring. I should just keep my hand outstretched for the rest of the day.
“Damien, the ring is stunning. Where did you find it?” his mother asks, bewilderment lacing her words.
“Cartier, but it’s custom made. The ring symbolizes something for us.”
He winks at me, sharing our own little secret no one else can decipher.
“But how did you come up with it so quickly? You’ve only been back together a short while,” questions my mother.
A flash of pain clouds his eyes, and sorrow pierces my heart as our eyes lock together. Through a gulp, he answers, “Katherine, this ring is seven years old.”
Everyone freezes, and only faint breaths are audible. The only one not surprised is Andrew. My mother is the first to find her words.
“But how? What?”
“I always wanted to marry Bria and have a life with her. It was never a secret. I planned on asking her on her eighteenth birthday.”
His head drops, and he takes a sip of his drink as my mom lets a heavy sigh out. It’s something none of us takes well. It is a scar that will forever mark our family.
“But I’m glad I got another chance.”
The pain lightens up as his eyes find mine once again, and he smiles. Yes, I have my kind of smile from him because his eyes sparkle like a hundred tiny diamonds, and his entire face radiates pure happiness.
Thankfully, our mothers drop the subject and are in planning mode.
“Do you have a date? Because all the prime locations get reserved years ahead.”
“October first.”
“More than a year. It’s doable.” They exchange a relieved glance, and I purse my lips to stifle a smile.
“Mom, Katherine, we love you, but we don’t want to wait a year. We planned it for next month.”
If horror had a face, it would resemble the faces of our mothers as they stammer, “Wait. What? Are you both out of your mind? Please tell us you won’t do that to us.”
“Sorry, but actually, we can. It’s our day,” adds Damien, and my mom’s hand rests on her chest, and Rebecca tilts her head at us.
“Four weeks, you two will never change, will you?”
I have to show some support for my future husband because these two are like vultures.
“We trust you.”
“But . . .”
I approach them and say, “Look, I’ve already asked Sarah to help. Plus, we have the location. I thought an elegant tent would be appropriate. And tomorrow we’re heading to London to the one store I know will have my dream dress. Please join us.”
“You two . . .” I grab their hands.
“We don’t want to waste any more time. We can’t and won’t.”
They squeeze my hands back and nod.
“And, Mom, we don’t want half of the world in attendance.”
“Well, honey, it’s rather impossible in such a short amount of time. At least one thing is settled, but everything else . . .”
They look at each other, glances full of concern as if asking each other if they are up to such a challenge, but I am sure they will be.
“But the witnesses and the bridesmaid and the groomsman. There are so many details to a wedding.”
“This is easy, Mom. Sophia and Filip will be the latter, and as witnesses, Alex, for me.”
“And mine is Chloe.”
My brother sneers and tosses the contents of his glass down his throat. What’s his problem?
“Does Chloe know yet?” I ask him, dragging my lower lip through my teeth.
“I will talk to her when we’re in London. But she’d do anything for me so . . .”
I breathe in and out and I chant in my head. I am not jealous, not at all. Everything is perfect, the sun shines, the birds chirp, the lake is as beautiful as ever. He chose me. She’s his friend. Don’t be bitter.
He leans in and whispers, “You’re cute when you try to calm yourself.”
I shoot my chin up, my gaze fixed on his full lips. He lifts me and places me on his lap, ending my tantrum.
“I love you, although you make me mad,” he says and buries his face in the curve of my neck.
I cross my hand over my chest, not at all happy with how I deal with my emotions at this moment.
His hands around my waist tighten, and his voice lowers. “Is it because of Chloe?”
“No, why would it?” I say in a clipped tone.
“Good.” He purses his lips, aware I lied.
I stick my nose in the air, breathing through my mouth. “Ass.”
“What did you say?”
I tilt my face to him, plastering my most innocent look. “I had something stuck in my throat.”
His eyes, those eyes that ruin and raise me, sparkle with mischief as he tucks a strand of hair over my ear.
“You’ll have something in your throat, but not until tonight when we’re alone.”
A wave of heat washes over me, and I quiver.
With our mothers talking animatedly, concocting a detailed plan, the party splits into small groups—one the parents and the other the rest of us. While the men decide where to go out for the night, Soph and I discuss dresses. Damien’s attention shifts more and more toward us, until Sophia pierces him with a heated look.
“Brother, I love you, but there’s no way you’re going anywhere near the bridal shop. Don’t test me, your charms don’t work on me.” He raises his hands in front of him in surrender but fails to hide his irritation.
“I didn’t say a thing.”
“You don’t even have to.”
“Baby, just accept it. You’ll see me on our wedding day. I promise it will be worth the wait.”
We change the subject, but his eyes promise retribution, and I squeeze my legs in response.
***
We say our goodbyes, settling to meet early for a morning flight.
In the car, I sing along with whatever song comes on the radio as Damien teases me over my voice—in his words, the love child of a frog and dying cat. My answer is to slap him on his arm. But I am happy, and he’s happy because I’m happy, and during the entire ride, we don’t stop laughing. Only a few stars pepper the sky when we reach home. After a quick shower, I hop on the bed, curious if he remembers his threat from this afternoon.
I get my answer when he steps inside our bedroom, wearing nothing, his chest shining in the dim moonlight peering from outside, every muscle in his body flexed and hard.
“Strip.”
I gulp and shoot upright in the bed. I peel off the black satin and lace cami and matching shorts, tossing them on the floor. He prowls toward me, grabs my hips, and pins me on the bed. His hands trail down my body, teasing me as he parts my lips with his tongue in a demanding, possessive kiss. I’m already on fire.
His tongue slips in and out of my mouth, to mimic his thrusting inside me, and I become even wetter. He climbs up and straddles me as he takes himself in one hand and guides it to my mouth.
“Open.”
He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and throws his head back.
“Fuck, oh baby, this feels fantastic.”
Pleasuring him pleases me knowing that only I can sate his desire, while mine grows and grows in intensity until he relieves it. He is so deep inside me, my eyes water. He pulls out and says, “I’ll come. I can’t hold it anymore,” then slides down my body, parts my legs and lifts them over his shoulders, his tongue lapping at my entrance. My hips buckle, and I fist his hair, while he bites the inside of my thighs, and I cry out his name.
Our eyes lock, as he enters me, his hips slow, and we make love, sweet and gentle until we come undone again, together.
What we share is a combination of endless love and complete abandon. In his arms, with his love surrounding me, there is no reason for me to feel anything but loved—something I need to remember when jealousy rears its head.
***
The morning sun rays dance on my lashes as he pecks my face, and I wake up smiling. I climb on top of him, kissing down his toned chest. He grabs my bottom and picks me up. I cross my legs around him, as we scramble to the shower. Our kisses turn to pure need. He slams me against the wall, thrusts himself inside, and I scream from the sheer intensity. My legs wobble when I come, and he holds me until he finds his release too. He places his forehead on mine, his mouth lifting into a lopsided grin.
“Good morning, love.”
“Good morning, sex machine,” I say, losing myself in his eyes, and trail a finger down his chest.
“I’m sorry.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
“Your humble, pleasure servant.”
He bows, and I slap him playfully on his chest.
“You’re such an idiot sometimes.”
“Is this your way of saying you love me? Because you’re sending mixed signals right now.”
I laugh again and shake my head at him as he waggles his eyebrows at me.
“We’ll be late.”
“You’re my woman. I have to keep you satisfied. And I’m a man. It’s not like I can skip such an open invitation to ravish you. It would be a blasphemy.” He peers at me from under his lashes, eyes sparkling with mischief as he drags my nipple between his teeth, and I burrow my fingers in his back.
“I think what you just said is blasphemy in its own right.”
“What can I say? I’m a sinner. But somehow, I’m sure you’re my absolution.”
