Chapter 29
IT’S MID-AFTERNOON BY THE TIME we have everything packed, settled for our flight the next morning. Luggage lines the walls of the family room, and everything else has been sent home via carrier.
With no plans for the rest of the day but counting the minutes until our flight, I feel anxious about what we’ll be met with back home. Chantal baby talks to Aven as she dangles his new toy cow over his head. I lean into the bed, smelling his head, the best scent in the world.
I pick up my phone after a text comes through.
It’s from Bastian’s new phone, the first text I’ve ever received from it because I’m with him almost every second.
“Hey, who’s that hot guy out the window?” I read out loud, looking at Chantal with an eyebrow raised.
She raises her hands and shrugs, but her face tells me she does know.
I pull back the shades to see Bastian leaning against the SUV, the passenger door open.
“What’s going on?” I ask, and Chantal bites her bottom lip telling me she knows the answer.
“He’s taking you somewhere,” she offers.
“What? Where?” I ask, staring between Chantal and Bastian.
“Aven and I are going for a walk. I don’t know where you two are going.”
Grabbing her wrist, I meet her eyes. “Are you sure?”
She tsks at me, placing her free hand over mine. “After tomorrow, I will be back in my own home. And you’ll be in the Garden District. Let me have my last night with Aven.”
The reality of that hits me hard because I’m not ready to be apart from Chantal. “I don’t want you to go home.”
“Baby girl, I gotta go home. But you’ve got a hot date,” she says, pointing to Bastian leaning on the car with arms crossed, the sun kissing his perfect skin.
“Okay,” I whisper, kissing her cheek but not letting go of her wrist. She firmly releases my grip and shoos me out of the house.
I walk down the driveway, the afternoon sun washing over my face, the ocean breeze pushing Bastian’s hair around his forehead.
“What are you doing?” My voice is heavy with suspicion as he pulls me flush against him, arms locking me in his embrace.
“I figured, since we don’t know what we’re going back to, and our lives may be…” he pauses, searching for the right word. “Intense in the near future, that we need to make a little time for special.” His hand slides over my hip slowly, so slowly.
I run the back of my fingers along his jawline, allowing his thoughtfulness to sink in. Because once, I thought I would never have special again with him.
“I will take all the special you want to give me.” I smile, raising my lips to his. “But the baby,” I say, pushing back. “We can’t be gone all night.”
“We won’t, don’t worry.” He pulls me hard against him, flames of desire in his eyes searing into me. He leans down to kiss me but pulls away when I lift my mouth toward his.
“Don’t tease me,” I whisper, grabbing the bulge in his jeans.
“Get in the car,” he orders, intensity flaring in his eyes, and I oblige.
There’s something deeply nostalgic about being in the passenger’s seat next to Bastian.
His hand on my thigh, the warm summer air sending my hair in swirls around my face, the music consuming us.
Like the days when we were just hiding a secret love, not a secret child.
The stakes felt so high back then. The old Aster would fall right into a coma if I could go back in time and tell her what happened.
“What are you laughing at?” Bastian asks, squeezing my thigh.
“Just how happy I am, right now. In this moment. Despite it all.”
“Despite it all,” he whispers, his hand sliding higher up my bare skin, and it just sits there, his BD pinky ring gleaming up at me. Reminding me. It was once amongst a pile of ash in my hand. I took it off my chain this morning and slid it on his finger. Back where it belongs.
Despite it all. I squeeze his hand under mine.
We weave through the forest, the smell of pine and eucalyptus enrapturing us. “Kinda smells like vacation,” I say.
“Well, until we get you to the Caribbean, it will have to do.”
About fifteen minutes from the beach house, Bastian pulls up to a navy-blue A-frame cabin nestled between a grove of redwood trees.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Let’s go see,” he says, opening his door and grabbing a backpack from the back seat.
He waits for me, hand outstretched until mine hits his. “This cabin is where the kitchen and living area is. Hot tub is around the back, and up there, well, that’s the bedroom. And don’t worry, I paid for the night, but we will only stay a few hours.”
My gaze follows his pointing finger up into the trees as I try to take everything in.
“The bedroom is a treehouse?” I ask, eyeing a small cabin nestled at least twenty feet in the air between numerous trees.
“Of course it is. What? You didn’t expect a tree house tonight?” His mouth turns up, eyes piercing mine.
“No.” I laugh. “I did not expect a tree house.”
We walk through the front door of the A-frame cabin into the living area, the all-wood interior rustic and earthy.
“I thought we would get in the hot tub first,” Bastian says, throwing his backpack on the couch and unzipping it.
“I don’t have a bathing suit,” I say, and he pulls a bikini out from his bag, and I cover my mouth in laughter.
“Bastian, where did you get that?”
“It’s Chantal’s. She said it would fit you.”
“Do you see these big boobs? There’s no way they can fit in that tiny thing.”
“Oh, they don’t need to fit. They can pour out for all I care.” His eyes turn lustful as his tongue wets his bottom lip. “Come here,” he purrs, his voice like velvet, eyes darkening.
“When we made love on the beach, I needed you, and I told you that I wouldn’t have time for special, and we agreed, special could wait.”
His hand stretches out for me, the air between us thickening. I take it, stepping closer, thinking he’s going to kiss me, but instead, he grabs the bottom of my tank top and pulls it over my head.
“But right now, we have time for slow and special, and I’m going to take my time and make love to you tonight. How you deserve to be made love to. Got it?”
I swallow, neck tense, and move my face closer to his, but he denies me the kiss, moving his mouth so close to mine, his breath warms my cheek.
Lips press to the corner of my mouth, his mouth tracing down to my jawline as his strong hands slowly move around to the clasps of my bra, and I immediately get the memo, serious and special, and he’s not messing around. This is seduction.
My bra falls to the floor, and my nipples pucker as he drops onto his knees, heated eyes looking up to mine. I place a hand in his hair as he whispers, “So beautiful.”
Fingers work the buttons on my shorts, unzipping, tugging, until they’re sliding down, his hands guiding my legs out one at a time.
Fingers ride up the inside of my thighs, thumbs grazing my panty line until they’ve hooked the sides of my panties, pulling them down wickedly slow.
That heat coils inside of me, the heat only his touch can ignite. He turns me to syrup, sticky and sweet.
Placing soft kisses on my knees, up the inside of each thigh, until he’s at my center, breath warming my skin.
My hands run through his hair while he gently presses his lips against me, and I want to curl down into him, but his hand runs up my stomach, straightening me.
I grab his fingers with one hand as the other pulls the hair on his head.
He growls, and with his tongue flattened, he tastes me, the electricity of his wet mouth shooting stars through my veins.
I lean into his mouth, my hand gripping his hair as he slides his tongue up and down, heat spiraling in my belly where his hand holds me still.
“More,” I whisper.
But instead of more, he pulls away, grabbing the bikini bottoms and the back of my foot to slide it on.
“Wait. What are you doing?” I pant.
“I’m putting your bathing suit on.”
“I don’t want it on,” I object.
And he smiles so deviously, ignoring my pleas.
“Oh God, Bastian. I need—”
“Special,” he scolds, eyebrow arched, telling me he means business.
I take a deep breath, trying to get my hormones under control, and lift my foot.
“That’s a good girl,” he praises, and that only makes my stomach flip again.
Once he has both feet in the bikini bottoms, he pulls it up, and I’m mentally begging for him to touch me again, but he doesn’t, just stares up with desire in his eyes like I’m the most beautiful, sexy thing he’s ever seen. And how lucky am I to have that?
Standing, he grabs the bikini top, looking at it like it’s a maze. “I might need help with this one.” He smirks, and though I’m sexually frustrated, I laugh.
“This way,” I say, grabbing the strings and tying them around my neck. The back strings hang at my sides as I stare at him, taunting.
“I assume these tie around the back.”
“That is correct sir,” I say, not moving.
“Got it.” He moves behind me, fingers grazing my skin delicately, making it ripple in goosebumps.
Grabbing my hips, he pulls me against him, my bare back slick against his chest, his erection digging in my ass.
His fingers dance around my stomach and then up, cupping each breast in his hands, so soft, so tender.
His middle finger moves over each nipple so carefully I can barely feel it.
He pushes against my ass, and I could just bend over and beg him.
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he groans into my ear.
A sigh escapes my mouth because his touch is like a breeze, like the faintest kiss, and all the emotions I keep locked away so often threaten to bubble up.
Just when I think I might cry from the pleasure, the reality of him being here, he stops, hands gliding down to grab the strings, and ties the bathing suit behind me.
Once he turns me to face him, I’m greeted with the softest smile, his finger running up my cheek, taking every part of my face in. I want to kiss him, kiss him so badly, but he quickly steps back, denying me.
“That looks…” He nods appreciatingly, a diabolical grin on his gorgeous mouth.
I look down, remembering that this is Chantal’s bikini and that my breasts are barely covered. “Oh my God, this is scandalous,” I titter, but he only blinks, and that corner of his mouth tugs up.
“You’re perfect.” And he grabs my hand, pulling me outside.
“What about you?” I ask, and he points to his board shorts while he pulls off his shirt.
“Came prepared.” He winks.