Written With You Page 17

  His strong arms folded around me, pinning me to his chest as the sobs devoured me.

  “You read her journals, Caven. They were all so dark and depressing. I want her to finally have something good to write about.”

  “But I want to write that future with you, Willow,” he breathed into the top of my hair, holding me so tight it was as if he thought he could keep me from falling apart. And let’s be honest. It was Caven. He probably could. But if he couldn’t, I knew he would stand there for however long I needed him to, fighting a losing battle and trying anyway. “We don’t have to talk about this now. We actually don’t have to talk about it ever again. But just know you will always be Willow to me.”

  My heart simultaneously ached and soared. I wanted to write that future with him too. I didn’t know how long we stayed there. Standing in the middle of his room, his bed only a few feet away. He didn’t ask any questions, nor did he try to give me any sage advice.

  There was nothing left to say.

  The fact was Hadley was dead. My using her identity wasn’t going to change that.

  There would be no painting with her daughter.

  No laughing over animals.

  No journal entries decorated with hearts and smiley faces.

  That wasn’t Hadley’s life.

  But it could be mine.

  With Caven.

  I had a successful career as an artist. An incredible man who would hold me until his arms fell off. A beautiful little girl who looked like my mother, laughed like my father, and had every bit of my sister’s attitude.

  And, in one way or another, Hadley had given them all to me.

  Maybe the answer wasn’t rewriting her life.

  Maybe he was right and it was all about embracing my own.

  Or maybe it was just about putting off the inevitable and forgetting if only for a few more hours.

  “Caven,” I whispered, raking my nails down his back.

  He turned to stone as I slipped my hand down the back of his sweats. “Fuck,” he rumbled.

  Pressing up onto my toes, I kissed the base of his neck and murmured, “Go see if she’s asleep.”

  He took my mouth in a needy kiss, but as I was getting lost in a taste that would forever be engrained in my memory as Caven Hunt, he was removing my hands.

  Palming either side of my face, he stepped away. “Stop.”

  “No, don’t stop. Stopping is bad.” I tried to capture his mouth again, but he held me out of reach.

  “Jesus, Willow. Your cheeks aren’t even dry yet.”

  I tugged at his waistband. “So dry them while you get me naked.”

  Releasing my face, he took a giant stride back. It was only a few feet, but for as deflated as I felt, it might as well have been a mile.

  “We’re not doing this. Not after that.”

  Without a care in the world and a desperation to forget, I peeled my shirt over my head, leaving me in a simple, but sexy, white bra.

  His gaze jumped to my breasts, but it was the way it flicked to my scar that sent the chill down my spine.

  “Willow,” he breathed. After one last perusal, he bit his bottom lip and looked toward the door. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t make me tell you no. I don’t have it in me.”

  I prowled closer and peppered kisses across his defined chest. “If you tell me no, I’m going to have to start deleting stars on your date review.”

  He let out a growl when I grazed the tips of my fingers across the fabric covering his hard length. And no sooner than I slipped a hand into the front of his pants was I up off my feet, being carried to the bed.

  I grinned in victory, eager to shut the world down and lose myself in Caven the way it was always supposed to be.

  He dropped me to the bed and followed me down with his upper body, his hands landing on either side of my head. His kiss was deep and greedy, igniting everything from my nipples to my clit. Fighting with his pants, I shoved at them with my hands and my feet.

  I needed to feel him.

  To close my eyes and block out the rest of the world.

  I just needed a few minutes to shut down the side of my brain that haunted me with all the ways I’d failed my sister.

  That wasn’t what I was going to get though, because in the next second, Caven flipped me to my side and crawled into the bed behind me, his chest coming flush with my back and his arm going over my hips.

  “We’re not doing it like this,” he rasped.

  I rolled my hips, finding his cock, thick and straining. “Caven, please.”

  “Fuck,” he hissed, clamping down with his arm to stop my movement. “Stop. The last time I was inside you, I thought you were her. I’ll be damned if we are bringing her to bed with us again. You’re hurting, and I get that. I’d give anything to be able to make that stop, but not at the risk of damaging what we have.”

  “It’s not going to damage anything,” I argued.

  “I know—because it’s not going to happen.” He blew out a long exhale and rested his chin on my shoulder. “I love you. I want a future with you. I want a family and maybe even a fucking dog. But, most of all, I want a bedroom where there isn’t a ghost sitting in the corner. So get some sleep and hopefully some separation. Hadley will always be a part of our lives, but not here. Not in this bed. Not when I’m inside you. And especially not when I’m making love to you for the first time knowing you are my Willow.”

  God. This man.

  My chest ached. “What if she’s always here?”

  “She won’t be.”

  “But Rosalee—”

  He shifted closer, sliding an arm under my head so we were touching at every possible point, head to foot. “She’s not in here, either. When that door closes, Willow, it’s me and you. Only ever me and you. And that’s not because of Hadley. If by some miracle we have kids sometime down the road, they won’t be in here, either.”

  I screwed my eyes shut. “Caven, I can’t…”

  He kissed my shoulder. “There are other ways, Willow. You’re twenty-seven and the world changes more every day. You said you have one ovary left. I looked it up. There are fertility treatments and surrogacy. Adoption. Foster care. The options to start a family are endless. Though I’m not suggesting we start trying any time soon. I’d kind of like to have sex with you more than once first. Maybe take you out on a date that doesn’t involve zebras giving birth and quesadillas hidden under the couch.”

  I let out a choked laugh. “I’d like that too.”

  “What part? Sex, kids, or quesadillas?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe all three.”

  “Okay. Then go to sleep. Get some distance from the things we talked about tonight, and we can start working on some of those hopefully sooner rather than later.”

  I smiled and snuggled in, tangling my legs with his.

  My heart was overflowing.

  He loved me.

  He wanted a future with me—a family even.

  And a life that didn’t involve the ghosts of our past.

  And God, I wanted all of that more than I wanted my next breath.

  He rolled to the side, hitting something on his nightstand and plunging the room into darkness. Then, when he came back to me, he reached over with his cell phone in his hand. On the screen was a live video of Rosalee, fast asleep in her bed, a unicorn stuffed animal tucked to her chest.

  Smiling, I took the phone from his hand to get a better look at her. “Wow, you are such a creeper.”

  “I’m her father. It’s my job to creep. Just wait until she’s a teenager.”

  I put my chin to my shoulder to catch his gaze. “Are you going to be the dad hiding in the bushes when she goes on her first date?”

  “Nope.” He plucked the phone away and gave it one last glance before setting it aside. He used his arm around my hips to drag me deeper into his curve. Caven clearly took his job as the big spoon very seriously.

  I intertwined our fingers. “And is that because she’s never g
oing on a date?”

  “You got it.”

  I giggled until he inched our joined hands down to my scar. It didn’t quite line up with his given our height difference at the time. But it was a solid line, a thread that connected us in ways that could never be altered.

  Our relationship was born in a tragedy, but I had faith we could flourish in the fortune of the seconds on the other side.

  The baggage we both carried was daunting. And it was the permanent kind that wasn’t going to disappear into nothingness. But maybe it would fade. With time. With happiness. When the good times we’d create together finally outweighed the bad. We were going to have to fight for every moment of peace from now until eternity. But there was no one in the world I would rather have on my side.

  Life was crazy and confusing, filled with twists and turns, change and the unexpected being the only constant. Though, in that second, that one second with his arms wound around me, linking us as one rather than two individuals, life finally felt beautiful again.

  “Hey, Caven,” I whispered.

  “Right here, babe.”

  “She’s asleep. Does that mean we can finish our date now?”

  He chuckled. “No. Go to sleep, Willow.”

  I waited a few seconds and pressed my ass into him. “What about now?”

  “Sleep,” he grumbled, but the way his cock began to thicken between us wasn’t fooling me.

  I guided his hand up to my breast, dipping his fingers beneath the fabric of my bra. “What about now?”

  He roughly plucked my nipple. “Go to sleep. Space and separation, remember?”

  “Right. Of course. Sorry,” I replied. Though I suspected the apology didn’t hold much repentance as I’d said it while circling my ass over his cock.

  “Jesus Christ,” he cursed.

  “What about now?”

  “No.”

  Another circle. “Now?”

  “Woman.”

  “Man,” I parroted. Yes, with another torturous circle of my hips.

  The whiskers on his chin brushed my shoulder as he shook his head. “Willow, stop. Seriously, babe. Not now.”

  The rejection didn’t sting as much as the ache between my legs throbbed.

  I knew he wanted me. The proof was all but stabbing me in the back.

  He was just trying to do what was right.

  It was commendable. Truly. Even if it did suck. A lot.

  “Fiiiiiine,” I huffed, kicking one leg free of the blanket, trying and failing to get comfortable with the heat still licking across my skin. I must have adjusted my pillow a dozen times, flipping it from one side to the other, searching for the coolness. My hair slapped him in the face numerous times, but he didn’t move or voice any objections.

  It took a while, but I finally settled. The drama and emotion from the day overtook my wanton body. Sleeping in the bed with Caven wasn’t exactly torture. Well, I mean, it was. But it was also a nice change of pace from years of sleeping alone.

  Consciousness had just started to leave me, carrying me to the blissful twilight halfway between sleep and cognizance, when I heard him. He was counting so softly that I couldn’t be sure if he was saying numbers or just ticking off the seconds.

  There was a distinct ten before I felt him stand up.

  Without him there to support me, I rolled to my back. “Caven?”

  He didn’t answer. At least not with words. I heard the rustling of fabric, and before I had the chance to open my eyes, my shorts and panties were stripped down my legs.

  I smiled, victorious. It fell in the next heartbeat when his finger blazed a path through my wetness, going directly to my clit.

  “Oh, God,” I cried.

  He tugged the front of my bra down, popping my breast free, and in the same fluid movement as two of his fingers entered me, his warm mouth sealed over my nipple.

  I arched off the bed, and desire came roaring back into my system like a thunderstorm. My every nerve ending fired off bolts of lightning while the waves of my impending release surged just short of the shore.

  I threaded my fingers into the top of his hair, moving with him as he shifted his attention from one breast to the other.

  “Caven,” I breathed, the sound so erotic for no other reason than it was his name.

  His head suddenly popped up. “Fuck. I need you, Willow. So much.”

  “Yes,” I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck to drag him down.

  He captured my mouth, his tongue snaking out to duel with mine in an ebb and flow of a breathless urgency. His hand disappeared between my legs again, the backs of his knuckles igniting more sparks as he guided himself to my opening.

  He paused for a second and I swear the wait was agonizing.

  “Willow,” he asked, the question clear.

  I couldn’t have kids, but there was more to unprotected sex with someone than the chance of pregnancy. “I trust you. I’ve always trusted you, Caven.”

  A masculine rumble vibrated his chest and his blue eyes lit in the moonlight as he sank in deep. Stretching and claiming, he seated himself, giving my body time to adjust. Time I did not want.

  I rolled my hips, urging him forward in a plea he did not miss or deny.

  It was Caven. Almost everything about him was gentle, from the way his lips trailed up my neck to how his hands roamed my breasts.

  But there was nothing gentle or controlled about the way his every thrust sped up. Heat and power radiated through him. The muscles on his back rippled beneath my fingers, and every so often, I’d glance down at that one misshapen ab that was all him and beautiful because of it.

  “Fuck, you are incredible,” he murmured when he momentarily stilled and I rode him from the bottom. His hand went to my scar, not covering it because it was an ugly reminder, but holding it as though he could absorb it as his own.

  It wasn’t long before I was crumbling into the ocean of climax, writhing beneath him.

  And he wasn’t far behind me, his strokes becoming unpredictable and intoxicating as he hunted for his own release.

  It became a frenzied race to who could fall off the edge of oblivion first.

  I won.

  Though I had a sneaking suspicion that he’d let me.

  Only seconds later, he cursed and buried his face in my neck. I could feel the syllables of my name against my neck. I didn’t hear my name, but the breath of the W breezing over my skin was followed by the touch of his tongue at the double L.

  Panting and thoroughly wrung out, he collapsed on top of me, shifting his upper body a fraction to the side so we could both breathe without him breaking our connection.

  Sated and with a smile, I closed my eyes and burned that second into my memory. I had no idea where life was going to lead us. In some ways, this felt like the beginning of a new day. In other ways, that beginning had happened eighteen years earlier when I had been a child and he had been a broken boy and this was the culmination.

  But as he lay on top of me, his body joined with mine, it felt like an end.

  An end to the struggle.

  An end to the uncertainty.

  And, hopefully, if wishes and prayers actually worked, it would be an end to a lifetime of pain that had been cursing us both.

  “I forgive you,” I whispered.

  His head came up so fast that I was worried for his neck. “For what?”

  “For being mean and making me wait.”

  His lips tipped up into a smile, and he was still wearing it as he brought his mouth down for an all-too-brief kiss. “I wasn’t making you wait. I was making you go to sleep. I wanted separation.”

  I brushed his hair off his forehead. “That makes no sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense. Sleep is a clear split. You fall asleep, you wake up, it’s a different day.”

  “What about naps? That’s not a different day.”

  “Yeah, it is. Maybe not on the calendar. But if you lie down after being pissed or upset, you sleep a few hours,
you wake up confused as shit but probably not pissed anymore. There is a clear splice in your emotions when you fall asleep and wake up. I wanted to fuck you. I also wanted separation from all that other stuff. So I waited for the splice.”

  I barked a laugh. “I didn’t even fall asleep.”

  His lips tipped into a crooked smile. “Yeah, you did. Snoring and drooling and everything.”

  “I did not. I was barely twilighted. I heard you counting to ten.”

  “But did you hear me count to a thousand first?” His smile grew wide and toothy. Probably not the most attractive grin in his repertoire, but it was playful and he was still inside me, his heavy weight on top of me. And his eyes were locked on mine as if he never wanted to look away.

  Therefore, it was officially my favorite smile of all.

  I traced my finger over his bottom lip and then sat up a fraction to kiss him. “I love you.”

  His face was warm, not a hint of guilt showing in his handsome features. “I love you too.”

  “We’re going to make this work, right? We’re going to do this together.”

  “Yeah, Willow. From here on out, whatever comes our way, whatever happens. We’re going to do this.”

  I needed to go to the bathroom and clean up, but I was in no rush. So, when he dipped to kiss me again, his mouth opening as his tongue rolled with mine, I lived in those seconds for everything they were worth.

  CAVEN

  My steps were light as I made my way down the stairs. My bed had been empty when I’d woken up, and a cursory stop at Rosalee’s room showed that it was empty as well, but the scent of pancakes infused my nose.

  I stopped at the bottom step and quietly sat down, enjoying the show that was my girls.

  “Four plus one,” Rosalee quizzed.

  “Five.”

  “Six plus one.”

  “Seven.”

  “Twenty-nine plus seventy-three.”

  Willow swayed her from side to side. “Umm…”

  Rosalee’s legs dangled, kicking back and forth as she sat on a barstool at the counter, still wearing her favorite Minnie Mouse nightgown. Willow was at the stove with her back to the stairs and wearing the same sleep shorts I’d all but torn off her the night before. It was a different tank top, but I could see the outline of her bra. Considering I hadn’t seen it on the floor in my bedroom, I assumed it was the same one I’d removed a few hours later—after the second time I’d taken her body but before the shower just as the sun had peaked over the horizon when she’d come on my fingers.