Page 37 of Conflagration
With a smug smirk, I lean down and give her a kiss. "I'd like to see you try."
She just laughs and watches as I reach over and grab a few tissues from the nightstand. After I clean her up, she sits up and gives me a knowing look before gesturing to the evidence of my release.
"I'll see what I can do about getting a prescription filled for the rest of the time I'm here so we don't have to worry about that. I haven’t had to rely on the pull-and-pray method since college and I’m not about to start that up again," she tells me as she hops down from the bed and picks up the empty condom box. "Because after that? These aren't going to work for me."
Handing the box to me, she rises up to her tiptoes and places a kiss on my cheek. Before I can answer, she walks into the bathroom, and I hear the shower turn on.
As I sit on the bed and finger the box, her words play on a loop in my head. For the past month, we’ve been in our own little world in my house, and it’s been fucking amazing. I’ve been on disability leave, and she’s been able to keep her family at bay, placating her sister with weekly updates and Skype chats because, in Alyssa’s words, she wanted to make sure I wasn’t a “freaking psycho holding Ariana hostage.” To which Ari responded by turning to me and asking why I haven’t tied her up yet. For some reason, that earned me a thumbs-up from Alyssa, and things have been calm ever since.
I know things are about to change though. Now that I’ll be in a brace, it’ll be easier for me to get around. I need to get back to the office, and I don’t know what’s going to happen after that. I can’t imagine that Ari will enjoy sitting around a house forty hours a week by herself. But the thought of her leaving? It’s devastating.
I contemplate the idea of checking out our accounting department to see if there are any openings, but I’m not sure I’m ready to share her yet or how to even approach the situation. Every week that passes, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For her to say that it’s time to get back to her normal life. I know it’s inevitable, yet a small part of me wishes this could be her normal life. Although I’m not sure fucking, watching bad television, and spending twenty-four-seven with yours truly can really be considered normal. We were thrown into this situation and ended up making the most of it, and I’ve already become too accustomed to having her as a part of my daily life. Going back to work is the last thing I want to do, and that alone should tell me that I’m in over my head. But at this point, I don’t really care.
And then I consider working from home, telling Dad that I need more time to recuperate. For the first time in my adult life, I want something more than to be at Wellington Enterprises. I want to be more than just Branson Wellington, shrewd businessman. Or something simpler. All I want is to be Ariana’s man.
The thing is that I’m not getting any younger. I’ll be thirty-four in a few months, and what do I have to show for it? A closet full of expensive suits. A house that’s way too big for just me—not to mention a bed with the same problem. Walls decorated with expensive art instead of family photos. An office full of commendations. None of those things will keep me warm at night, take care of me when I’m injured, or make me feel more alive than I have in the past month.
Until Ariana, I never really noticed how lonely it is while trying to make your way to the top. Suddenly, none of it seems like enough, and part of me is starting to warm up to the idea of possibly not spending the rest of my life alone—something I’d resigned myself to when I signed those damn divorce papers.
I toss the box aside and lie back on the bed, trying to imagine a life where the ring on her finger is covered by another one that symbolizes forever. An image of Ariana with a swollen belly that’s rounded from our child growing inside her forms in my mind, and it’s a beautiful sight. Not that I’m trying to knock her up at this point in our lives, but let’s be honest. I haven’t exactly been stellar about taking the necessary precautions I should to prevent it.
A smile forms on my face at the thought. It definitely wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I love my godson Jacob more than anything else in this world. I always imagined that he was it for me, the closest thing I’d ever have to my own kid. But now, I’m not so sure. Because even though I say that I don’t do permanent, every day spent with Ariana is one day that I get further away from our temporary agreement. As much as I feel I don’t deserve this, I’m slowly beginning to realize that I just might be wrong. I might actually be cut out for this relationship stuff—as long as it’s with the right person. Maybe my first marriage wasn’t my only shot at happiness.
It’s almost like I made that fateful error all those years ago and, instead of going to Hell to pay for my sins, I was sent into Purgatory to learn the error of my ways.
And Ariana Covington? She just might be my saving grace.
AFTER THAT stimulating round of morning sex, we head to the medical center, where Branson’s plaster cast is cut off and is replaced with a knee brace. I wince as he grimaces in pain when the doctor checks out his mobility. Leaning down, I give him a kiss on the cheek and a shoulder squeeze, telling him that I’ll be back in a bit.
Since we both were supposed to have checkups this week, I made sure to schedule them on the same day. I was fortunate enough to be able to use the Wellingtons’ family physician when I got my stitches removed, and today’s appointment is just one last checkup to make sure everything’s still healing properly.
After my appointment, I’m surprised to see Branson sitting in the waiting room. He stands, leaning on his crutches, and gives me a smile.
“Well?” he asks, and I know exactly what he’s thinking.
My arms slip around his waist before I rise up on my tiptoes and look into his questioning eyes. “I grew up riding horses, but it’s been a really damn long time. I’m looking forward to getting back in the saddle,” I tease, and his eyes dance appreciatively.
His hand slides down to cup my ass as he pulls me into him, and I can feel him growing against me. “The saddle’s ready when you are, baby,” he growls into my ear, setting my nerve endings on fire with the anticipation of tonight.
This past month with Branson has been an eye-opener—a sexual awakening. I’ve never felt this sexually free. Sure, there are a couple of one-night stands in my past, but I’ve never been so attracted to and so turned on for one man like I have been with Branson. It’s like he really did awaken that dormant sexual deviant, and now, I can’t get enough. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to.
He doesn’t treat me as a means to an end or an orgasm. Instead, he makes me feel wanted. Needed. Desired. He’s shown me that sex doesn’t have to take five minutes tops before rolling over and going to sleep. That missionary isn’t the only way to have sex—yet you can still have a lot of damn fun missionary style. He’s taught me things about my own body, and my likes and dislikes. No man will ever be able to measure up to him, and the thought causes me to sober. But when I look up at him, he’s watching me with amusement in his eyes, and thoughts of all over men vanish.
“The saddle’s always ready,” I tease, and he grins. “I was able to get a prescription and they called it in for me. We just need to pick it up with one more box. A small one this time. Just enough to cover me until the birth control kicks in.”
His expression changes for a split second, but then he smiles down at me. “Sounds good. Let’s get out of here.”
ONCE WE’RE finished running errands, I start to pull into his gated community when he tells me to head towards his parents’ place. Confusion washes over me, having thought he’d want to get home as soon as possible now that I’ve gotten the all clear, but I do as he’s asked. When I pull into the drive, I place the car in park and turn towards him. He takes hold of my hand, interlocking our fingers.
“Go out with me tonight,” he says. It’s not a question—not that there’s any way I’d say no. “I haven’t been able to take you out properly and show you off like I want to. And we both have things to celebrate. So how about it? Go on a date with me.”
“Well, since I agreed to wear your ring, I guess it only makes sense that we get our first date out of the way.”
His grin is contagious and he leans in to give me a chaste kiss. “I suppose that’s true. Anyway, when you were in the pharmacy, Mom sent me a text and said I was needed for a final tux fitting for the wedding. I’m going to hang out here for a bit, and then I’ll come get you.”
I completely forgot about the wedding. In one week, Knox and Charlie are getting married, and Branson’s more excited than he lets on about being one of his brother’s groomsmen.
“Oh, really? And how do you plan on doing that? You still can’t drive, Branson. Is your daddy going to chaperone? We can sneak kisses in the back seat when he’s not looking,” I tease, and he leans over and pinches my nipple. “Hey!”
