Caught Up in Us (Caught Up In Love #1)(39)
Author: Lauren Blakely

Then he reached for a condom.

He hovered over me, and teased me with his kisses, keeping me on my back, brushing his lips across my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids, even the tip of my nose. I was startled that even a kiss on the nose felt good from him. Then again, everything felt good with Bryan. I sighed as he kissed my neck and then threaded his fingers through my hair, pulling me close.

I lifted my hips to him.

“Tell me what you want, Kat. I want to hear you say it.”

“I want you to make love to me.”

I didn’t know if he knew how big a deal it was for me to say those words. I never said “make love” to anyone before. Not to any other guy. I’d never known what it was like to truly make love because Bryan was the only person I’d ever loved, and I’d never been with him like this, like the way it seems on the silver screen, with the big love of your life. When young love and passion turn to smoldering tenderness in the sheets. The waiting, the wanting, the longing as bodies come together, skin against skin, nothing held back, no distance, no time, no pretending. It had always seemed so perfect, so epic, so out of this world.

Now, here I was, feeling more than I’d ever imagined.

I placed my hands on his firm, toned chest, tracing his skin, his muscles, searing them into my memory now that I finally could, now that I finally knew what he felt like. He parted my legs and entered me. I moaned as he filled me up. Who said it was supposed to feel this good? But it did. Beyond any and all reason.

“You,” he said, softly, looking at me. “You.”

He buried himself in me, and I was in another world, in another time. I was drowning in pleasure, swallowed whole by desire. I was all the air I’d ever breathed. I was the edge of reason, and nothing else existed but the feeling of him moving deep inside of me, his body touching mine at last. Heat rose in my chest, a fire radiating from the center of my gut to the tips of my fingers, the far reaches of my eyelashes, and through to the inside and out of my heart, as if it might burst with all the feelings — love, lust, want, and then, most of all, ecstatic and utter happiness. Completeness. All-ness. I was lost, and then I was found, and I was suddenly aware of every sensation in my body. Of how he placed a hand on my hip, how his breath tasted good, how the soft little never shaven hairs on the backs of my thighs stood on end. I’d gone to heaven, only I was alive, and everything felt ravishing, as he plunged in me, gripped my wrists, and brought me there again.

And when it ended, when we lay there sated in bed, I outlined his body with my fingertips, planting little kisses across the hard planes of his belly, the firm muscles of his arms, the breadth of his chest that felt like home. We were silent for another moment, then I felt his hand slip into mine.

It was the laughter, it was the movies, it was Paris, it was the hero holding a boom box in the rain. I knew at this moment that a thing could be more perfect. I had always wanted to believe you could have love like in the movies. Now, I knew you could. It’s not just Hollywood.

I could have this man for the rest of my life and never want for anything more.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Something isn’t working.”

Charms and trinkets were spread out on the tray table. I’d aligned them along one of the silver chains I always kept with me. But they didn’t look right. I thought of my mom setting up displays in her store. She’d arrange some picture frames, then mugs, then perhaps a bracelet or too. Inevitably, she took one away.

“It’s what Coco Chanel has always said. Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and remove one accessory,” my mother had said to me, quoting the fashion icon.

Bryan looked up from the book he was reading on his tablet. We were on the same flight home, and he’d used miles again to upgrade me.

“There’s too much going on,” I said. “They need to be simpler.”

He grinned and returned to his book. I liked that we could talk constantly, or not at all.

Playing around with the design a bit more, I narrowed down the piece to a star, a key and a sun. I tapped him on the shoulder.

“I like it better. The question is when you get this big order from Elizabeth’s, how are you going to make them all?”

“Yeah. There is that.” I’d been so focused on the designs and assembling the perfect prototype that I hadn’t started to address the nuts and bolts. Soon, I’d have to. “I’ve always just made them myself.”

“You could keep doing that. If there were ten or twenty of you and several machines to help out as well.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

“No, I’m serious. You can’t be grassroots much longer, Kat.”

“I have to land the deal first.” I moved a star trinket to another position on the strand. But it still didn’t look right. “Crap.”

Bryan placed his hand gently on mine. “Hey.”

My agitation started to fade with his touch.

“You know, Kat. I happen to know this guy who runs a similar business. Makes gift items. Some hand-crafted, some machine-assisted. The products get rave reviews, and the business is growing like crazy. He knows how to manufacture something at scale and still make sure it’s beautiful and has a personal touch. Perhaps, I could see if he’d be willing to accommodate your new line of necklaces at his factory?”

I looked at him, wide-eyed and open-jawed. “You’d do that? How much would it cost me?”

He laughed. “First of all, of course I’d do it. Why would I not? Second, don’t worry about the cost.”

“You can’t just give me something for free because…” I let my voice trail off.

“Because? Because we’re back to not seeing each other for another four weeks starting in — “ he looked at his watch “—three hours when we land?”

“Not that.”

He put the tip of his index finger on the star trinket and pushed the star aside. He moved the other charms too. Then he pushed the mini skeleton key to the center of the chain.

“Not for free. I have a proposition for you.”

He told me his idea.

I nodded appreciatively. “That’s not a bad idea.”

*****

Bryan grabbed my suitcases from the luggage carousel.

“So I’ll see you in a month.”

“So this is it.”

We’d decided not to share a car back into Manhattan. That would be too tempting. He reached out to give me a hug, and I pulled in close to him, lingering in the crook of his neck, wishing I could smother him in kisses, and go home with him and do more than kiss. Do everything, again and again, all night long. Then, I spotted someone I knew at the next carousel. A dapper man. A sharp-dressed woman. Waiting for luggage.