Always Us (Always and Forever 2)

“Holding up?” she asks me with a perplexed look, making me unsure of how I should approach the next question.

Taking a minute to think, I soften my voice barely above a whisper. “After the Evan incident and the investment not going through.” I don’t know why I was worried about her reaction; I should have been worried about my own. Just saying his name and bringing up the damn incident in the same sentence makes me seethe, my jaw locking and teeth grinding.

“Oh.” Her face looks impassive, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking, which only adds to my anxiety.

“It’s okay. I haven’t had time to think about it. He kind of disappeared, and I got so wrapped up with other things, I haven’t thought about him much.” Her answer shocks me, honestly. She may have forgotten about it, but that night is still freshly imprinted into my memory. If Kingston wasn’t there, I don’t know if I would’ve stopp

ed.

“You know what that did to me? To see you there being held down by that piece of shit?” I ask, my grip on her hip tightening, pulling her pelvis closer into me so her body is pressed against mine.

“I can only imagine. I swear your eyes went black that night.” She scoots toward me, filling the little bit of space left between us. Her pussy grazing my cock, her tits touching just under my pecs. I can smell the lingering aroma of sex and her personal scent.

“I saw red. I’ve never contemplated murder before but he made me question it. Seriously.” I kiss the tip of her nose, her forehead, the soft skin of her cheek.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you, I should’ve listened.” Her voice is scarce and low, and I can hear the regret emanating in her tone.

“You don’t have to apologize for seeing the good in people, you didn’t cause any of that to happen to you, got it, babe?” The fact that I’m even having to convince her of this makes me angry. She should know that she’s innocent.

Looking up at me all vulnerable and fucking womanly makes me desire to protect my little woman even more.

She nods. “Thanks for being there to save me that night. You’re my hero, Trey Adams,” she tells me, kissing my lips gently with hers.

“No, you’re mine, especially after Pops passed. I was—am still in pain, but you make the days worth living.” She bites her lip and a pink blush lightly speckles her cheeks. She loves when I talk about her like this. She is so used to being sassy and in control that it turns her on when I tell her she’s not in control with me. That I’m the protector, I’m the one who keeps us safe, but she’s the one who keeps us together, the glue to our cracked pieces. We each are vital to the survival of our relationship, there isn’t one of us that is better than the other. She’s not made of my rib; she’s not the inferior one. We’re both superior in different aspects of our partnership.

“Just like you, Trey, I’ll do anything to protect you, love you, and take care of you. You lost your dad, your best friend, taking care of you wasn’t an option, it was a natural desire to do so.” Her words give new life to my heart, beating it back to life a day at a time.

“Fuck, you’re my damn savior. Come here.” Pulling her to me, she envelops me, drowning me with her intoxicating smell and silky skin. We spend the next three hours talking about our future and our past. That’s the best thing about being with Shayla, we have a future, but we’ll always have our past to bind us.

Shayla

THE SUN IS WARM AND enticing, heating me to the bones just right. The waves are crashing, making noise in the background. It’s the perfect companion to me and my novel. Today, I’ve done nothing but laze away on the beach with Trey.

Looking up, I see him coming out of the water, his new, darkened tan looking similar to mine. The water helps the sun reflect off all the rugged and deep grooves of his muscles. His sandy blond hair and blue eyes tempting me to crawl back in bed—with my kryptonite. Dang, I can’t wait to marry him.

His swim trunks hang low on his hips. So low I could tug an inch or two and see his glorious cock. The need for him filling me and causing the empty feeling between my legs to start up again. Making love with him all night still didn’t sedate me. It only awoke me. Last night felt like foreplay, I’m that needy.

“Whatcha reading, sexy?” Grabbing his towel, he wipes some of the water from his skin before lying down next to me. His hand finds my stomach immediately.

“Just a romance novel. It’s called Surviving For Us, by Lauren Nicole. She’s my favorite. You interrupted a sex scene, but I’ll forgive you,” I tease. I watch as his eyebrows lift, smirking.

“I hate that, you know. The guys in those books aren’t real. Honestly. No one looks that good or is luckily that rich.” I set my book down and lift my glasses a smidgen to look at him.

“Really. Because you are super sexy, you are making some decent money, and your dick is huge, so maybe you need to reassess your philosophy.” Smiling, I chuckle at the expression laid out on his face; he looks pleased.

“Do you get turned on when you read those books? Do you picture me?” He leans into me, and I take in the smell of salt and what’s left of his cologne. His open lips kiss my shoulder, where he leans over my body.

“I can’t get turned on when I read them.”

“Why not?” he asks, licking up the back of my ear. I shudder, my skin breaking out with tiny little bumps. I close my eyes, my teeth catching my lip while a gentle moan vibrates in my throat.

“Because no one compares to you. I’ve never been able to get turned on by anything or anyone but you.” His sexy, devilish snicker hums through me.

“You’re damn right. I’m the only one that can make you feel good, baby.”

“No one else.”

“Then marry me the minute we get home.” I break from the fog he just hypnotized me with and laugh on a choke.