Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Martin
I smile as I wait at the front door, holding the two bundles of floral bouquets and a small gift bag.
But truthfully, inside, I’m dying, overwhelmed by the magnitude of my feelings for Lady Eden.
I’ve already screenshotted our text messages, printed them, and have them framed on my desk in my home office.
I haven’t made a great first impression with her mother, which is made all the more clear when Rebecca answers the door with a pinched expression.
My smile melts off my face, and I reach into my jeans pocket for a handkerchief, wiping my sweaty forehead.
Nervous doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling when Rebecca unenthusiastically ushers me into the small, but tidy home.
“Here.” I jut out one of the bouquets toward Rebecca. “I mean, these are for you, ma’am.” Thankfully, I stop just short of bowing to her.
“Oh.” Rebecca’s dark brows lift as she accepts the flowers, bringing them to her nose, and she seems to soften toward me. “It’s been years since anyone has brought me flowers. Thank you.” Rebecca gestures to the second bouquet in my hands. “I take it those are for Eden?”
I swallow hard and nod, turning my attention to the side, waiting for a glimpse of my lady.
“Freesias are her favorite. Did she tell you that?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then you have good taste. She’ll love them.”
I’m heartened that I chose the right arrangement. I hope Eden will love me as much as she loves these flowers.
“I’ll go get her now,” Rebecca says, taking a longer inhale of her flowers as she swerves left around her tweed couch and wooden coffee table in the small living room, disappearing down a hallway. “Eden?” she asks quietly after knocking on a door. “Martin is here.”
All the tension in my body eases, my shoulders relaxing when I hear Eden’s voice telling her mother, “Coming right out.”
She’s a stunning vision when she glides into the room, wearing a mid-thigh, pleated black skirt and sexy, strappy high heels that put her an inch taller than me. Ivy coos happily in her arms.
“Good day, Lady Eden,” I say, sweeping a low bow.
A blush creeps up Eden’s lovely neck, her hair pulled back in a complicated updo. She curtsies and whispers, “Good day, Lord Martin.”
“These are for you.” I hand her the freesias, watching her eyes light up. “And this is for Ivy,” I say, passing her the gift bag.
“Thank you.” Eden bites her bottom lip, painted with a glossy red lipstick, and ducks her head shyly, taking a seat on the couch with her daughter cradled in the crook of her arm.
Rebecca takes the freesia bouquet to free Eden’s hands, and the women wear matching smiles when Eden reaches into the bag to reveal the teething toy shaped like a bouquet.
“Martin…” Eden says softly, standing from the couch, placing her hand on my right cheek, the tips of her fingernails gently curled into my beard, making me shiver with pleasure.
I’d love to feel them skating the length of my back.
“That was so sweet. Thank you.” To my shock and amazement, she kisses my left cheek, right there in front of her mother.
I shoot a petrified glance at Rebecca, who’s watching us with her head tilted to the side and a contemplative expression.
Over Eden’s shoulder, Rebecca gives me the tiniest of nods and turns toward the kitchen.
From the upper cabinet above the breakfast peninsula, she retrieves two vases for their floral arrangements.
I think I just won her approval. Now I must work on keeping it.
“You’re a very cautious driver,” Eden says, from the passenger seat, with a teasing lift of her angelic voice as I roll slowly down the streets of her neighborhood.
I’m putting off the inevitable for as long as possible by shifting to neutral, barely coasting along, to extend our time together.
It’s just as I have done every day and night when escorting Eden to and from work for her past five shifts.
Since I work from home and create my own schedule, I can be here for her whenever she needs me.
I leave a part of my heart behind each time I drop her off and have to go home alone.
She doesn’t know this, but that first day, I sat in the parking lot throughout her shift, too head over heels to even turn my car on.
Or perhaps she did figure it out, since I popped into the beauty supply store twice with snacks and coffee.
Then the third time, when I’d brought her a to-go box from the food court after she mentioned she forgot to bring her packed lunch to work.
The thirty minutes we spend outside the mall on her lunch breaks, sat on a little secluded bench, the lengths of our thighs touching weren’t technically dates, but they sure felt like it.
Especially when she would kiss my cheek before going back to work, leaving behind lipstick stains I wouldn’t wash off until bed.
“We’re here,” I announce unnecessarily and miserably on the sixth night when we arrive at her house, our time together having come to another heartbreaking end.
“Martin…” Eden says, twisting her hands on her lap while looking across the lawn at her front door. “Do you… Would you like to come back? After my mom leaves for work?” She turns to face me, biting the inside of her cheek.
“God, yes,” I blurt.
She smiles and leans across the leather center console to kiss my cheek. I love her kisses. I’ll treasure each forever. “I’ll text you.”
Eden texts me before I’ve made it a quarter of the way home, which is unfortunately clear across town.
I’ll have to remedy that soon. I’m a speed demon on the way back, whipping around corners, the “cautious driver” of earlier days long gone.
For the first time, it’s Eden who opens the door when I knock, sweeping me off my feet when she throws her arms over my shoulders.
“How is it that I’ve missed you so much when you’ve only been gone fifteen minutes?” she asks, slipping her fingers into my hair at the nape of my neck, lightly scratching my scalp. It’s pure, unadulterated paradise.
“I don’t know, but I feel the same way,” I say huskily into her ear, circling my hands around her lower back, wondering how on earth I’ve been blessed to have such an angel in my arms.
Eden shivers. “It’s intense,” she says quietly. “It scares me.”
“Me, as well,” I agree, though she’s risking more than I am by being together, if that’s what we are—together.
A hiccup from deeper in the house forces us apart, and I follow Eden down the hallway.
My goodness, I can’t believe I’m standing in her bedroom. It’s fit for a queen with her velvety green bedspread and gold brocade curtains that drape the windows. Warm lighting fills the room when Eden tugs on the cord of her vintage floor lamp with a milky glass lampshade.
The decor roughly matches my own, though my room favors a red-and-gold scheme, further cementing the idea that our entwined fates were cast long before we met.
“Hi, sleepyhead,” Eden whispers, lifting her daughter from her crib. “Mommy missed you too.”
Ivy chews her fist when Eden sets her on a dresser with a changing pad on top, and I take my leave. Moving back to sit on the couch in the living room, I wait for Eden to tend to her daughter. I’ve never felt more alive.
It’s a quiet night in, and exactly how I imagine all our future nights would be if Eden were to accept my proposal—making a hearty dinner together, lounging while we start season one, episode one of a fantasy TV series that we found out we both love.
Eden even allows me to sit on her bed with her while she rocks Ivy back to sleep after her nightly bath.
I have tears in my eyes, watching Eden lay little Ivy in her crib, and I wipe them away with my handkerchief when I step out so she can change out of her work clothes.
I flip the overhead lights off in the main part of the house, switch to a music streaming app on the TV, and light several of her mother’s well-loved candles that decorate the home.
I’m unbearably nervous, waiting once more for Eden to join me.
Nervous to be wholly alone with her, wondering what she will think of the steps I’ve taken to court her.
I sway on my feet, my jaw hitting the floor, when Eden enters the room in a sheer white nightgown that brushes the middle of her thighs, barefoot and barefaced, with her long, wavy hair tumbling down her back.
“Lady Eden,” I say, trying not to drool as her bare nipples brush the fabric of her gown. With each step, her luscious thighs skim against one another below tiny white panties with a little pink bow at the center of the waistband. “You are a dream come true.”
“Thank you, Lord Martin.” She comes to me, a fantasy brought to life, and takes the shaky hand I offer her. She waits, looking at me expectantly, and waits some more.
My brain finally catches up. “May I have this dance?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she teases, though there’s more than a hint of truth to it.
As we did at James and Shayla’s wedding, we slow dance, drawing ever closer until not an inch separates the lengths of our bodies, our faces buried in each other’s necks. I gather my courage to cup the back of Eden's neck and kiss the edge of her soft, sloping jaw.
When her breath hitches, I start to draw away and ask, “Am I going too fast?”
“No. It’s perfect,” she says dreamily, tilting her head and curling her hand possessively around the nape of my neck.
I start tentatively, placing small, featherlight kisses across her jaw as I allow my right hand to roam the length of her back and the supple curves of her waist and hips, hesitantly bunching up the material of her nightgown.
“Martin,” the angel whispers, twisting so her lips brush mine, giving me life. “Kiss me.”