Page 200 of Always Meant for You
One thing that’s really helped is reading up on the places we visit. It helps me connect, and with Mabel beside me, I lean into what’s new. We meet people who welcome us in. We ask questions. We listen. And when it’s our turn, we share what we’ve learned. We awarded our first scholarship. Lily Stromski—you remember her, right? Reba’s daughter. She’s in France studying biochemistry with a focus on soil health and sustainable inputs. She texted Mabel a few pics last night of her standing in front of the Eiffel Tower and another one ofher at the Four Seasons George-something-or-other. The images brought happy tears to my wife’s eyes. Mine too.
Eat Elverna has grown far beyond the co-op Jamie and I sketched on a diner napkin years ago. It’s a thriving corporation now, but the mission remains unchanged—sustainable farming that’s rooted in integrity. I oversee the agricultural side. Mabel leads the charge in marketing, outreach, and product development. Together, we’re moving the needle and forging a prosperous new life for everyone in Elverna. The town has tripled in size. Demand for our grains, produce, and dairy continues to rise. We’ve brought on more farmhands, more drivers, and a full team in our warehouse and manufacturing facility.
Elias and Claudine oversee the production of our Eat Elverna merchandise, all made here in the once-abandoned factory by the quarry. And speaking of Elias and Claudine, they got married last spring. They moved into Jamie’s cottage, and we moved into the main house. It’s rare to see Elias without a grin on his face or a kitten or two in the pockets of his overalls. The pair still helps out at the library and at the animal shelter in their spare time.
However, at this very moment, my father-in-law is the last thing on my mind.
My focus is on my very sexy wife. Her lashes lower, then lift again. The M charm at her throat glints in the light.
“Cal, please,” she begs, watching me in the mirror, desire coating her words.
She’s close to her release, and I know just how to get her there.
I push down my pants and boxer briefs. She tips her hips, grips the sink, and arches her back. She wants all of me. And I sure as hell won’t be holding back.
I slide into her slowly, savoring the moment her body opens for me. I hold her with one arm wrapped tight, my hand stillbetween her thighs. I never stop working her most sensitive place. My other hand grips her hip, guiding her back against every deep thrust. Her body meets mine, the carnal sound echoing off the tile. I drive into her, building a rhythm that’s rough, urgent, and all hers.
“Cal, yes…” she breathes, her voice trembling. She opens her eyes, watching me watch her in the mirror.
There is no experience more complete than intimacy. No feeling more grounding than knowing your heart lives inside another person’s hands.
I pull her closer, until there’s no distance left between us. I drive deeper, harder, faster. She’s soaked, her thighs trembling against mine. I match her rhythm and push past it, finding that place she needs. My fingers dig in. My body and mind locked on her.
I live for these seconds, when I can feel her coming apart, when every breath she takes is because of what I’m doing to her. I watch her teeter on the edge, every muscle tight with lust and longing.
“Take it,” I growl, every part of me straining to hold on.
She unravels in waves, muscles drawn tight before giving out, her cry raw and unfiltered. And Christ, she’s everything. I concentrate on her for a beat, then crash into my release, swallowed by a sea of sky-blue. I follow her into sweet oblivion, thrusting once, and then again. A breath, a groan, and everything breaks open. I spill inside her, her name falling from my lips like a prayer I’ll never stop saying.
“Mabel, I love you. I love you.”
This is how I worship her—with devotion, with fire, with everything I am.
Every time. Every breath. Always.
She hums a contented sigh. With an audible exhale, I return to my body.
“We’re getting good at quick and dirty,” she says, breath still uneven.
I chuckle and ease out of her. “We’ve got a lot going on these days. We’re damn blessed, and I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
She leans into me. “I feel the exact same way.”
She sighs again and checks the time on my watch. “I’m on in fifteen. Can you take care of everything up here?”
“I’ve got it,” I say, brushing one last kiss along her neck before I let her go. “See you backstage.”
I step back and get myself situated, giving her space to clean up.
She gives herself one last look in the mirror, then presses a kiss to my cheek. Mischief glitters in her gaze. “I’m so glad I ran into a farmhand in the city. Are you busy later?”
I cup her face in my hand and bring her close. Our mouths meet in an unhurried kiss, the kind that speaks without words. Her lips move with mine, familiar and sure, and the world narrows to this quiet moment. “You’ve got me for all your laters, ma’am,” I say against her lips.
“And nothing could make me happier. I love you.” She lays her hand over my heart and looks at me long enough to make the air shift.
“I love you right back, for always and forever.”
She strokes my cheek. “Callan Horner, the romantic.”
