Chapter 45 Imperfect and Beautiful
imperfect and beautiful
Sariah
The long silver knife hovers aloft before it crashes between her legs. My daughter screams, and mine echoes hers.
“Angel. Angel, wake up. It’s a dream. It’s just a dream.” Warm arms squeeze around me, and I suck in a quick deep breath. There’s no just about it. The nightmares haunt me. Multiple times per night. And always about Renée.
“I’m so tired of this.” I roll to my back, Cian hovering above me. My nose tingles, and my throat closes. Tears pool and run down my temples. “When will my brain stop tormenting me?”
“It’s sorting things out. I still think you should talk to somebody. Let me find you a therapist.”
I shake my head, the tears gaining speed with the movement. “I don’t want to relive it.”
“Your mind has other plans. It needs to sort it out. Was this one about you?”
I shake my head. “It’s never about me.”
“You went through some shit, too, you know? Guessing Renée missed the part where I’ve already killed for you.”
He did do that. I can’t lie and say that’s not another blade hanging over our heads. It feels like we’re doomed. Renée’s father, my former employer, Cian’s dad and their business, legal action that could come from murder and kidnapping.
Five girls are with Rosie… Five underage girls we freed.
In the eyes of the law, we trespassed and kidnapped them.
I was an accessory at the very least. And, hell, I don’t even know if my record was expunged.
The lawyer was trying, but so many things have happened, it’s been the least of my concerns.
When my own criminal history is low on the list of problems, it’s obvious my life is out of fucking control.
I laugh. I cry and I laugh. “My life is shit.”
Cian stops breathing all together. He falls to his back, throwing an arm over his head.
“Not you, Ci. Just… Just everything else,” I offer to the ceiling.
When only silence greets me, I roll up onto an elbow and look down at him.
His eyes are unreadable in the dark as it is, but he’s dropped a guard over them too.
I reach over and trail my fingers over his chest. Warm, firm muscle flexes under my fingers.
A soft patch of chest hair dusts his pecks and bends and dances under my touch.
“You’re killing me.”
“This?” I trail my fingers around a nipple.
His face turns to mine. “Yes. And no. I don’t want our life to be shit. I hate that you think it is.”
I lean down and kiss his chest, right above his heart. “If it weren’t for you, my life would be utter devastation. You make this worth getting through.” I splay my palm over the place I kissed. “You’re pure perfection.”
He scoffs, rolling his head back to the ceiling.
When I can’t get his eyes, I slide atop him, caging his face with my hands. “Thank you for who you are.” This time I kiss his heart, but with intention. I flick his nipples with my tongue, eliciting a groan from deep in his chest.
My hands trail over his ribs as my mouth slowly makes its way over the ridges of his abs. I tease his belly button with my lips and tongue as I drag my nails across that V at his hips.
I settle between his legs, and he widens his knees, making room for me. I lick him from root to tip, swirling my tongue around his head, paying extra attention to the ridge just below. He’s sensitive there.
His groan makes it hard to back off, but I do, returning to the root and his testicles. I suck one into my mouth and follow with the other. I lift my eyes in time to see him bite his own fist. Huh. Turns out he likes it. So I do it again. And again. All the while I thumb the slit at his head.
I’m having a perfect time until two palms land under my armpits and drag me up his body with urgency.
The sound that comes from me is half rollercoaster, half laughter as I come face to face with the man below me, my legs on either side of his hips.
“Enough. I want to watch you ride me.” His voice is strained, and his cock is too. He’s hot and dangerously near my entrance.
“I— Not to throw a wet blanket on this…” I slide over his length, coating him in my wetness. “But how serious were you about the baby thing?”
He freezes. “Are you—”
“No.” I shake my head quickly. “No, but I’m crazy regular, and this is when I’m most ferti—”
I never finish the thought because he enters me fully, impaling me on his cock, taking my hips in his wide palms and pushing me down until he’s fully seated.
His neck strains, his chest heaves, and he holds my eyes with firm resolve.
“Move, Angel.”
I wiggle, but that’s not what he means, apparently, because he withdraws a little and lifts his hips once more, pulsing in short, small thrusts.
But I take over. Gliding up and down his length, setting a languid rhythm that builds something deep inside me. Drawing him out and sliding back home.
“Harder, baby. Take my cock like you mean it.”
“I’m doing just fine, thank you.” My words come out too breathy to be taken seriously, but I don’t care. The build-up, the depth, the pleasure—all are perfect. “Love you, Ci.”
His thumbs part me, and he uses one to stroke and put pressure on my clit.
“I— I… Oh, God.” My words are incoherent as he builds my orgasm.
“Love you, Sariah.” He sits up with an ab crunch, his pubic bone taking the place of his thumb, providing pressure.
His hands pull me down as he stabs up into me, my movements short and deep, mirroring his.
“Are you close?” His words fan over my lips.
My hands to his shoulders, I nod.
His rest on my hips, keeping him fully seated, deep inside me. He surrounds me in every way possible. “Come for me, Angel.”
I do, not because of his command, but because I was already there.
His cock, his touch, his hands, his words. All pull me over the cliff. And I take him with me, my muscles pulling his orgasm deep inside the recesses of my soul.
I’m panting hard, my head resting on his shoulder, his knees holding me to him just as his arms are.
“Our life is beautiful,” he offers. “Imperfect and beautiful.”
I pull back to stare into his eyes. “Thank you for loving me. Thank you for choosing me.”
“That’s my line.”
Cian
The bed is empty when I wake again. It’s still dark and since it’s the height of summer, it’s early. But I don’t remember another nightmare. I really want her to see someone to work out all the things her brain is throwing at her.
Ayla knows someone. Why didn’t I think to ask her sooner?
Me: That therapist you saw that you loved… Can I get her contact info?
It takes a moment, but the reply comes.
Ayla: I *see*, not saw, and she’s amazing. You are not—it’s not even 4 a.m. Why in the world are you awake?
Me: You’re always up at this time.
Ayla: Fair, but not today.
Ayla: Joanie Jacaruso 303.555.1203 She won’t be up at this hour.
Ayla: I love her. This will be good for you.
I don’t correct her. But it does give me an idea.
I rise, throw on some sleep pants and a tee, and wander down the hall. I used to be able to walk around in my boxer briefs. Or naked for that matter. It seems that overnight that option was taken from me.
Complaining means I wouldn’t have Sariah and Renée and while I need the first, the latter is the reason I’m dressed.
Sariah rests on the back terrace, huddled under a blanket on one of the loungers.
I quickly brew up a pot of coffee, siphoning two off the top, and head out to be with her.
“For you.” I extend the cup.
She accepts with both hands as she sits forward just far enough that I can squeeze in behind her.
I pull her deep into my chest and murmur in her hair, “We have to figure out how you can sleep.”
“Well, coffee is definitely not the answer.” She lifts her steamy mug in a fake toast before taking a sip.
“There are mountain lions occasionally out here.”
“Not surprising, but I haven’t seen any this morning.”
“Eleanor usually makes their presence known.”
“Last I checked, Eleanor was snuggled up with Renée in a pink explosion.”
“Good.” I take a sip of my own Joe and wait. She’s had a lot of changes in the last several weeks. I expected more jealousy, but my girl took it like a Murphy and just opened her heart to more love and more family.
Sariah pushes back and takes another sip as the first rays of light strain for the horizon. Colorado summers are the best on the planet.
“What woke you, Angel?”
She speaks to the trees when she responds. “I wanted to check on Née. Chances are if I’m having nightmares, she is too.”
There are no words for that. What we went through was heavy for me. For them, the fear must’ve been palpable.
“I’m sorry, Angel. I have an idea about that. We can talk about it over breakfast.”
“Why not now?”
“Because now is peace. Now is joy. For the first time in nearly fifteen years, I have it all.”
She sighs and snuggles tighter into me. “I never wanted this to come down on you.”
“You missed it, love. I want you. I wanted you good, bad, and ugly even then. Though I’ll be the first to admit that man would’ve been shit at this.”
She turns in my arms to face me. “Why?”
“Because he had it so easy. No stress. Everything came naturally. Job lined up after school, the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. I’d never seen struggle. That version of me would be ill-equipped for the last couple of months.”
“I think you were fully capable. We were just so damn young.”
“Our break shifted something in me fundamentally. And the years that followed, the trouble with my father, even Ayla’s shit.
I learned who I want to be and what’s worth it.
And you’re worth it.” I pull her back to my front and slide a hand around her waist. My fingers splay on the bare skin of her belly.
It’s possessive and warm, not sexual. It’s just us, and I can’t not touch her.
After several long minutes, our cups are down to dregs. I set them on the stone barrier behind us.
“I don’t want to get heavy, but I need to go to Rosie’s today and talk with her and the girls.”
She sighs deeply. With all the mess going on with us, we haven’t brought it up much. But five innocents are in Rosie’s house, no doubt confused and terrified.
“I wanted to ask if you want to go and if you think Renée might want to.”
She sucks in a deep breath. “She doesn’t know them at all.”
I know. “You’re right. And I’m not interested in her having trauma bonds with them over this.”
“But?”
“But—” My words are soft. “She’s their age. She looks the most like them out of all of us. I can only assume I’d be scarier to them without you two. That doesn’t obligate either of you. But you know what they’ve lived with. I think the two of you would be better ambassadors.”
She fidgets and struggles to settle where she was at peace before.
“You don’t have to decide right now. I’ll go around lunchtime. You can tell me anytime. And if tomorrow is better, we can go back.”
She exhales, and I’m left to wonder how long she’s been holding her breath.
“I’m always team Sariah, baby. I’ll push you where I think it’s in your best interest, but I’ll never decide for you or override you. Chalk that up to one of the things younger me wouldn’t have known was important.”
“You’re a good man, Cian. I’m honored you chose me. Twice.”
“There was only ever one option. I saw you, and that was that. You were it for me.”
Contentment and ease look good on her.
She won’t like what comes next. But, quite frankly, I don’t either. There are too many loose strings.
“Will you take some time to dig into any loose threads still possible with Connect2Coach today?” It feels like every day is a weekend and every day is a workday right now.
There’s so much going on, so much to do, and the only thing I want to do is padlock my doors, wrap the Ocoteas in bubble wrap, and protect them from the world.
She nods. “Sure. But only if you bring me another cup of coffee.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” I kiss the top of her head and shift from behind her. “Be right back.
I hit the back door and find Eleanor pacing and whimpering. “Hey, my girl. What’s wrong?” But I hear it. Moans and cries of “No, no, no” come from Renée’s room. I don’t think, I run.
I push open the door, moving into the room, and call to her. Over and over again, I say her name and over and over again, she thrashes. Finally, I grab her shoulders and shake. “Renée, wake up!”
She opens her eyes and screams.