My Kind of Forever (Beaumont 5)

ds. I still prefer the tower on Friday nights, though, even if I can only go when it’s the off-season.

I motion toward the refrigerator and Harrison keeps up with his best man duties by grabbing us each a beer. There’s a built in can opener right on my counter and the tops fall directly into a bucket. It’s clear I’m amused by the simple things because that’s one of my favorite pieces in this outdoor kitchen.

“I feel like I just saw ya,” Harrison says as he hands me my beer. I take a long pull before setting it down so I can flip the meat on the grill.

“You work in my basement, of course you just saw me,” I say as I pull the lid down.

“Have you given any more thought to helping out Trixie?”

His question catches me off guard. I look at JD, who is magically off in la-la land with his bottle of beer. Clearly these two have been up to something.

“I wasn’t aware of any options.”

JD mutters something that I can’t quite make out and I look to Harrison for confirmation. He runs his hands over his beanie, his tell when something’s on his mind.

“What’s up?” I say to both of them.

“There’s a benefit concert being organized. A few of the musicians that have come through there are looking to save Metro from closing. They asked if we want to play. I told them I didn’t know, but they asked me to come back and play in the house band,” Harrison says straight to the point.

“Did you know this earlier?” Something tells me Harrison may have a hand in planning this benefit concert. It took a lot of convincing to get Harrison to leave Metro when Sam wanted to sign me and eventually us. But he was worth it. I thought that then and I still think that now.

“I did, but wasn’t sure how you’d react since I dropped the book bomb.”

I nod. He’s right. The book news is enough to ruin my day even though we should be celebrating. We will be celebrating. “Let’s eat and discuss it later,” I say as I take the meat off the grill.

JD whistles loudly and all the noise in the yard hushes. “Dinner,” he says, much to the delighted screams of five kids.

As soon as everyone is situated and they’re digging in, I tap my fork against my bottle of beer. I stand once I have everyone’s attention. “I know we’re together a lot and we’re as close as any family so tonight Josie, Noah and I want to thank you for coming over and celebrating with us. Earlier this afternoon we found out that the baby we’re adopting is a boy.”

The cheers are loud and boisterous. I watch for any sign that Noah is going to have a meltdown or cause any drama and I see none. He’s sitting between Quinn and Peyton, and the three of them are chatting away.

“Harrison and JD, I’ll be requiring your assistance with getting the room painted.”

“Wait, Dad?”

I turn my gaze to Noah, who is now standing. “I thought we could do it together.”

Josie gasps and quickly covers her mouth and I have to swallow hard to find my voice. “I wouldn’t want it any other way, buddy.” I tell him as I walk over to him and bring him into my arms.

Noah and I are both learning and adapting to the impending change. I have to learn what it’s like to have a newborn around and he has to learn to share. Together I think we can get it done.

The way the mirror on my dressing table is angled gives me the perfect opportunity to watch Liam undress. This is my favorite ritual, morning and night. I’ll take the chance anytime I can to watch him methodically peel off his clothes. He’s a man who unties his shoes first, placing them back on the shoe rack. His socks are next, followed by his shirt. My peeping tom ways are often rewarded when he’s wearing a dress shirt. Not only do I get to watch the muscles in his back flex as he pushes each button through the ridiculously small hole, but his undressing is prolonged. He takes his t-shirt off the same way every time and when he pulls the collar from behind and the shirt slowly lifts inch by inch, my mouth waters. My lips become dry and my knuckles ache from my hand clutching my hairbrush. The clank of his belt buckle and the almost too silent pop of the fabric from his button down jeans have me staring intently into the mirror. My make-up is only half off, my mouth wide open and I’m the picture of someone who needs serious help. And let’s not get started on the way he gets dressed...

He knows I watch him. This is a game to him. He could sleep in or stay up late, but he doesn’t. Liam gets up with me in the morning and goes to bed when I do at night and I’m starting to think it’s because his intention is to have me committed. I may or may not have a drooling issue when it comes to staring at my husband. You’d think that after watching him grow up that I’d be used to his body, but the truth of the matter is, he didn’t fully grow until he left Beaumont. I missed the transformation from teenage boy to man. Sometimes I think I’m happy that I did, but other times, I think about all the other women out there that have experienced his transformation. I hate them all. I’m jealous of them and I don’t know why. I have him now. He chose me.

His jeans drop to the ground and he kicks them aside, depriving me of the chance to watch him bend over to pick them up. I find myself leaning into my vanity to get a better look as his thumbs dip into the waistband of his boxer briefs. Men find women’s lingerie sexy and appealing. It turns them on. The look and feel teases them and they love it. I never thought about men in their underwear until I saw Liam in his. Over the years he’s maintained his muscles, yet has a more defined physique. His boxers aren’t sagging in places they shouldn’t. My husband could be an underwear model with his form fitting briefs, although I don’t know if I’d want the world to see what he only shares with me. The cotton fabric pools at his feet. He steps out of them and turns around, showing me his naked body... a body only for my eyes, my hands, my lips and any other part of me.

“How long are you going to stare at me?” I swallow hard as my eyes flash to his and a wicked grin plays across my lips.

“Until my eyes no longer work,” I tell him. “Or until you tell me to stop.”

“Hmm that’ll be never,” he says as he walks near me. It’s when he’s inches from my back that I can no longer see him; his presence is felt immensely in the energy we share. I’ve always known when he’s near. It can be both a blessing and a curse. After my last round of pregnancy tests, when I asked him to come home, I knew he was at the door before he even said my name. I didn’t want him to see me like that – a mess and crumbling on the floor because I failed again in giving him another child. I had hoped he’d respect the closed door, but he knew immediately and I can’t fault him for being the caring man that he is. He wanted to fix me, take away my pain, just as I would do for him. However, knowing when he’s about to touch me makes my skin tingle with anticipation. My body zings with electricity the moment before he touches me. He’s like my own personal current that I need in order to keep functioning.

Liam’s touch is light as a feather as he moves the strap of my nightgown down my shoulder. Lips that I’m eager for ghost across my skin. I feel my skin pebble, the goose bumps rising with anticipation as my other strap falls, leaving my nightgown barely covering my breasts.

He looks at me, his eyes meeting mine through the mirror as he watches the tips of his fingers travel along my collarbone. It’s been so long since we’ve been like this. There’s no rushing, or lack of foreplay. I’ve missed my husband and I want to tell him as much, but I’m at a loss for words as he sweeps my hair to the side and presses his lips against my neck. Liam presses into my back as his fingers push my flimsy nightgown down.

“I really like this color on you,” he says as he looks at me.