Fragile(53)
Author: M. Leighton

“What is it?” she asked, resting the pot in one hand so she could cup the blossom with the other.

“It’s an orchid, silly.”

Miracle was too amazed to take the bait. “But what kind of orchid?”

Hardy was hoping she’d ask that very question, because the answer was the best part. “It’s called a ‘Miracle Orchid’.”

“A ‘Miracle Orchid’?” she asked. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not teasing?”

“No.”

“Where did you find it?”

“I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

Hardy paused for effect. “I had someone make it.” When Miracle looked up at him, confused, he continued. “I talked to Mr. Billson, the horticulture teacher, and he agreed to try and splice two of your favorite orchids into a hybrid. If it grew, he promised to let me name it.”

Hardy could tell Miracle was speechless. She bowed her head and stuck her nose into the center of the blossom, inhaling deeply. Although she closed her eyes, appreciation and true awe were written all over her face. Hardy had never met someone so pleased, so enthralled by the little things. It was one of the many reasons she was so special to him.

When she opened her eyes and raised them to his, they shone with unshed tears.

Hardy was humbled. “Tonight, you got your miracle. The day I saw you, sitting with Mila in the park, I got mine.”

She sucked in her breath, myriad emotions flitting across her face. But one was predominant. Love. Hardy could feel it radiating from her like heat from the sun.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to…I’ve never…I mean, I…”

Hardy reached up and brushed the tip of one finger down her satiny cheek. “Anything for you.” He bent his head and brushed his mouth over hers. Her lips felt like velvet and even that small contact threatened the tight rein he had on his control. Lifting his head a bit, he pressed a kiss to her cheekbone and whispered in her ear. “I’m not done.”

Taking her by the shoulders, Hardy slowly turned Miracle around. When he heard her gasp, he bent his head and kissed the crook of her neck. That was just the reaction he was going for.

Miracle’s mouth had dropped open into a silent O and her eyes were rounded as she took in row upon row of night blooming orchids, all proudly displaying their colorful petals. They were illuminated by the dozens of candles Hardy had set on every available surface.

He saw her gaze drop. There, at her feet, in the center of the floor, was a thick stack of blankets strewn with blood red rose petals.

When she turned to him this time, her face told him that the moment was every bit as special as he’d hoped it would be. He didn’t want her to simply see the night as an item to cross off her bucket list. He wanted to show her how much he loved her, how much she meant to him, how much he wanted to please her.

“You really are the stuff dreams are made of, Hardy Bradford,” she said, reminding him of the time she’d said it once before. They’d come so far since then. “And I’m so glad you’re mine,” she murmured, her voice wobbling with emotion.

“You are my dream, Miracle, and I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known. I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you. Forever. But, right now, let’s start with tonight. Let me love you tonight.”

With that, Hardy bent his head again and pressed his lips to hers. They parted immediately and he slowly slipped his tongue inside the warm cavern of her mouth, exploring every sweet corner until he felt her fingers work their way into his hair.

Reaching down, Hardy swept Miracle up into his arms, her slight weight like fluff in his arms, and carried her to the thick bed of blankets. Gently, without breaking their kiss, he knelt and lowered her onto her back.

When they were both breathless from passion, Hardy dragged his mouth away and leaned back to look at her. Miracle’s eyes were a dark green in the low light and they glowed with the love and desire she felt for him. It blossomed in his chest like the orchids all around them. He held it tight, letting the sensation etch itself onto the very walls of his heart so that he’d never forget it.

Coming up onto his knees, Hardy reached for first one foot and then the other, removing Miracle’s shoes and setting them aside. When his eyes met hers again, he could see the fire burning there and his body hardened in response. He groaned and Miracle bit her lip, the sexy gesture only adding to Hardy’s discomfort. Closing his eyes against the tempting picture she presented, Hardy collected himself before returning his attention to undressing her.

His gaze never leaving hers, Hardy brought his hand to her stomach and reached for the hem of her shirt. He saw a flash of uncertainty flicker in her eyes. Always sensitive to her, he moved his fingers down toward the waistband of her jeans, slipping them just inside. He felt her stomach contract beneath his hand and, with one quick flick of his fingers, he freed the button closure.

Their eyes remained locked as Hardy slid her zipper down. He was so in tune with her, Hardy thought he could almost hear the blood pumping through her veins.

Hardy tugged on Miracle’s jeans. Obligingly, she raised her hips and let him slide the material down her long legs and pull it from her feet. It wasn’t lost on Hardy when Miracle laid her hands over her stomach, subconsciously preventing him from lifting her shirt.

Hardy paused after setting her jeans aside, tilting his head and looking deep into Miracle’s glistening eyes. Reaching forward, he laid his fingers atop her. “Please.”

He saw her hesitate, could practically see the indecision and insecurity as she debated. But then, purposefully, she moved her hands and laid them on the blankets at her sides.

Hardy said nothing, only reached for the hem of her shirt and slowly peeled it up her stomach. When he could go no further, he took her hand and helped her to sit up while he pulled the material over her head. When she lay back down, Hardy made a point of keeping his eyes trained on hers. He wanted her to see his reaction to the thing she dreaded most.

Slowly, Hardy let his eyes travel Miracle’s beautiful face and graceful neck, making their way down the ample swell of her br**sts to her stomach, to the scar that she protected from all eyes, including his. He saw her muscles clench and heard her inhale and hold her breath, as if waiting for him to turn away or to be repulsed by the purplish red line just beneath her ribs. He raised his eyes to hers, saw the fear there, and he smiled before dipping his head to press his lips to the scar.