As I gulp down my fresh watermelon juice, my eyes flicker up to those beautiful ocean blues above the glass. We’ve just finished dinner and are onto our last bites of dessert.
I set the glass down and smile. “So, you come to this place every time you’re in town?”
“Every time, yeah.”
“Can I ask a question?”
Saint nods, leaning back in the comfortable dark leather booth with a grin. “Hit me.”
“I once read this article about a psychology study that found certain people rewatching the same TV show or movie because it creates a sense of safety and comfort. That consequently eases their anxiety levels and is kind of therapeutic. Would you say it’s kind of the same for you too coming to this place?”
His grin drops.
The pitter-patters of my heart slow.
Oh.
Saint’s gaze falls from mine for a second, focusing on anything but me. It’s as if I’ve hit home a little too hard and now he doesn’t want to face the music. Shit.
“I’m sorry,” I say after a few seconds with nothing but the backdrop of chatty diners and the soft strum of the guitar and vocals who are performing live opposite us on the elevated stage. “I… shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Obviously, this place is very special and personal to you. I’m just grateful you chose to bring me here. I know it means a lot to you.”
Saint doesn’t say a word. He simply swallows thickly, rubs a hand behind his neck, and focuses on the whiskey glass in front of him with a frown.
Shit, I didn’t mean to hit a sensitive nerve.
I knew it. I just knew it.
Everything that’s going on between us is just too good to be true. Or… is it?
Out of all the questions I’ve ever asked Saint, never has he responded like this. He’d either give me a legitimate answer and we’d get deep into conversation, or he’d give me a brief answer and I’d know not to mention it again, or he would let me know it’s a no-go zone, but this time… he’s shutting down and giving me nothing. Nothing.
I glance around at the large picture window outlooking the beautiful Pacific Ocean. The night sky has blanketed the midnight blue water with dazzling twinkling stars on the surface. It’s the benefits of being in a beach-side restaurant. The views everywhere are breathtaking.
When I turn back to Saint and his eyes are shut, almost as if he’s lost in thought, I clear my throat and chew down the final piece of my delicious iconic apple pie with my heartbeat in my ears. Well, this is awkward.
To be seated adjacent to Saint right now while he’s all silent is concerning. It’s concerning because Saint isn’t like this. He’s never shied away from a question. He’s the most confident, dominant, and assertive man I’ve ever known. So why is he acting like this now?
I part my lips, but Saint beats me to it before I can say anything. Gulping down his glass of whiskey, those blue eyes lift and hold mine. There’s a small improvement in his complexion with the soft smile he shoots my way, but I can see the sudden sadness beneath it. I can see that it isn’t all that meets the eye with Saint tonight.
Leaning back against the leather booth, Saint runs a hand down his crisp button-down and settles his hands clasped in his lap. “I’m sorry,” are the first words he speaks, and I know from the loaded emotion how hard it was to speak those words “I hate when… I hate when I get like this.”
“It’s okay.” I nod with an encouraging smile. “Take your time. I don’t have a knife to your throat.”
I’m grateful for the light chuckle that escapes him at my little sarcasm. It makes me happy that even with all the thoughts that must be clouding his mind, I can still make him happy.
Diners’ muffled conversations and bursts of laughter, alongside the live music, fade from my mind. There’s nobody else more important than Saint and whatever he entrusts me with. We’ve come so far since that day three years ago when he stepped on my lilies and we declared war. So far from all the fights, the stare-offs, the angsty tension that’s turned both sexual and emotional.
“You’re right when you say rewatching the same show or going to the same place is almost like an anxiety cleanse. Like some sort of therapy. This place… Martin’s, it was my father’s favorite place to visit. When I used to live here, there wasn’t a week where he wouldn’t come down and we’d share some laughs here at this restaurant. It’s changed a lot in the past five years, but the essence remains. In 2012 when my father’s cancer returned after years in remission, he was receiving aggressive treatment, so I visited him and my family in Santa Rosa instead. Treatment made him extremely exhausted, and he didn’t have the energy to come down to Stinson Beach. I hadn’t come to this place for months because it meant nothing without my father. Treatment wasn’t helping with the stage he was in. The doctor said that… that…”
The lump at the back of my throat aches at the emotion in his voice and how he broke at the last word. There’s no doubt that Saint has been through so much. I cannot imagine where his mind must be at, but all I do know is that I feel so grateful that he’s taking the time to share this personal story with me.
Stretching out my hand across the oak table, it takes a moment for Saint to snuffle away some emotion and reach up his hand to weave it through mine. I clasp our hands tightly together, like a cage unable to be unlocked without its key.
“I’m right here, Saint, I’m right here.”
“I know…”
Saint’s glassy eyes meet mine and a hot tear rolls down my cheek at the sad story.
“One breath at a time.”
We both inhale a deep breath and the world around us seems to fade away. Breathe.
“My father… he was running out of time. I was due to head to London in the middle of July ahead of the London Olympics and wanted to pull out because I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something happened while I was there. I’ll never forget how fucking proud my father was of me. It was his dream to see me in the Olympics doing what I loved… boxing. He forced me not to pull out. He said if I did it would ruin him, so I decided to go ahead with it, even though my heart wasn’t fully in it. The weeks before making the trip to London, I spent the most time I could with not only him but my entire family. The weekend before I left for London, my father practically begged me to meet here. Said he wanted to have one last drink with me before my residence for the next few weeks was the Olympic Village. I agreed, although I could see how sick he was. How much he was deteriorating. But I said yes because he’s my father and I love the hell out of him and would have done anything for him.”
“You’re a good man, Saint. You really are.”
Saint lets out a breath, squeezes my hand, and keeps going. “We had dinner and drinks, right at this booth, just my father and me. That night, he told me to get up on that stage.” He gestures toward the very stage across the room. “He told me to get up and sing him a song. ‘Our Song’ by Elton John. It was his favorite song. He was adamant about it. So, I took one of the guys’ guitars and started singing. He couldn’t meet my eyes the entire song, just shut his eyes and listened to the song, to the melody, to my voice. At the final note, he opened his eyes, and I saw he was sobbing. Now, you’ve got to understand that I never saw my father cry in my entire life. He always wanted to be strong around his family, but that particular night he lost it. I was crying too, so damn hard, and when I got down off the stage, he held me so tight. It was like he knew because that was the last time I saw him alive. During my first week at the Olympics I was on a winning streak and one night my mom called me and… she told me that… that he had… and my entire world shattered right in front of me. I didn’t want to believe it. Hell, I still can’t fucking believe it. My mother told me not to leave, but mentally I was in such a fucked up space that I had to return back home and be there with my family. So now, even though I’m in Sacramento, this is the last place where I saw my father, so I come here to remember him, but also remember myself. I come here to escape. I come here because it helps with all of the anxious thoughts. Because it’s familiar… because it’s a sense of comfort. Just like you said.”
Warm tears don’t stop cascading down my cheeks as I slide around the booth with Saint’s hand still in mine and pull him into a tight embrace, straddling his waist. I have no words. None. The emotion and tragedy of the words Saint just spoke have taken them right out of me. Even when I close my eyes, I can still see the agonizing pain in his ocean blues, the clouds of tears in his gaze from seconds ago… and it breaks my heart. Shatters me into a million tiny pieces because not only does he trust me enough to open up, but Saint’s life has been so awfully bittersweet.
Saint and I hold on to each other like we’re the last people on this earth. An embrace so warm and comforting and filled with emotion. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer into him, while my head is buried into his neck, breathing in his familiar scent amid tears. The second Saint’s chest begins to tremble, I lose it and hold on tighter.
Saint buries his head into my hair, his sobs silent as he completely lets go of the man he’s been perceived to be for all these years, into the man he really is…
A man with such honesty, a heart of gold and sentiments that run so deep.
A man I’m so wholeheartedly in love with.
My heart aches to see Saint like this. So emotionally broken, which is so understandable after everything he’s told me. It’s as if he’s kept all these emotions of grief and loss bundled up inside him for all these years and right now, they’re completely letting loose. I know firsthand how terribly grief can fuck with somebody. Losing my nana like that… I can empathize with Saint perfectly.
“Let it out, baby, let it out,” I murmur, slowly running my fingers through his hair, and sniffle away my tears, knowing I need to be strong for him. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve battled through. Just know that your father is so proud of you and is still looking down at you with a smile. I feel it.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve helped me understand who I really am during all these years, but all this time you’ve been carrying such a burden. A burden I so desperately want to heal.”
Moments pass with me rubbing small circles across his skin through his shirt. When he finally settles down and those glassy eyes meet mine, I don’t care about the new diners that are glancing our way as I wipe away his tears or the fact that we’re both such emotional messes…
All I care about is the way his complexion warms the second I cup his stubbled jaw and whisper against his lips, “Even in a world where the lines between what we really mean to each other are blurred, even though I don’t know what we are to each other, even if this little rendezvous stops the moment we’re back in Sacramento or is just for the summer… I ask one thing from you… Let me heal you, my blue-eyed boy. Let me heal you.”
“Don’t you see it, wildflower?” Saint murmurs with the type of emotion that has waves crashing against my heart and seeping in, the water reviving me. “Don’t you see that being with you makes me a better man? It heals me. No matter how much a part of me wants to let you go because you deserve better, I can’t.”
“Then don’t.”
Flicking his eyes between mine, Saint smiles. “I won’t.”
And then, his lips are on mine and at this stage I don’t know which one of us needs the healing more. This kiss is a little bittersweet, so sensual, and all of what I need. All I know is that whenever I’m with him my flaws fade away and become strengths…
They become reminders of who I am.
Reminders of why my heart beats this fast.
Reminders of us, here tonight wrapped in each other at his favorite place… because right now, it’s mine too. In fact, from this point forward, I know it will always be.
Saint
I’ve never been grocery shopping at a quarter to eleven before. So doing it with Paisley seems almost like a novelty. There’s something about sharing a basket with her and strolling down every aisle, picking out items to buy and laughing at some of the ridiculous things we find that feels so intimate and pure. It’s as if we’re playing house. As if for just a little while I was her forever and she was mine.
To be honest, I didn’t know how we would return to our bubbly selves after I completely broke down at Martin’s just over half an hour ago, but there’s just something about Paisley that instantly makes me calm down and feel better. She didn’t manipulate me for feeling emotion or ignore the pain I was in when I opened up.
She told me everything was going to be all right.
She held on to me.
She rescued me.
After a little while, Paisley suggested we leave the restaurant and take a walk around the block before heading back to the beach house. The idea was to start heading back to Sacramento by midnight so that we could be back home around 2:00 a.m. with an hour to spare before Paisley’s father finished his shift, but with the way things are going between us, I want nothing more than to spend the entire weekend here with Paisley.
I know it’s risky. I know Alaric will blast his daughter’s phone if he finds she’s not home in the morning, but Paisley is a grown-ass woman and she’s allowed to do whatever the hell she likes. It’s why when she came to a halt in front of a small grocery store by my beach house and her eyes lit up as if she had an idea, I didn’t protest about it with the excuse of us having to head back to Sacramento soon. Fuck going back. I’m staying here with her. Where I belong.
I’m a jealous man, a reckless jealous man who for some reason turns into a fucking cinnamon bun whenever I’m around the poetic flower queen, but fuck, how much I like melting into something so damn sweet around her.
Although it makes sense because since I only go to the beach house during the summer and all I have in the kitchen are basic items like honey, condiments, and liquor, I love how Paisley and I are placing items into the cart like fruit, bread, milk, and Napoleon ice cream as if we’re some married couple and it’s automatic.
Love that I don’t even know how we’re going to carry all of these items home.
Love it even more that she’s still holding onto the bouquet of flowers I had ordered to our dinner table earlier because she didn’t want to leave without them. The stems are pressed together, wrapped in a few napkins from Martin’s because they’re still a little damp from being submerged in water for so long.
I’m so happy she loved them.
“You planning on staying over at mine for a week?” I smirk when Paisley’s fingers brush over a bottle of Italian pasta sauce.
Paisley glances over at me, her silky beach waves gliding over her shoulder as she shoots me a bright grin. I playfully arch my brow and she moves her hand away from the bottle. “I guess I got a little carried away, didn’t I?”
“Not at all. All you’ve got to do is tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“That you want to do this Bonnie and Clyde style and let Stinson Beach be our hideaway.” I laugh.
Although I said it jokingly, there’s a part of me that wants this so much and I don’t even know where it came from.
Paisley smiles and reaches up to brush her thumb over my stubble. It’s become a habit, a thing she does to show she cares, and I love it so much. Her eyes meet mine in amusement. “Bonnie and Clyde, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh my God.” Paisley dramatically gasps, teasing me good as she plays along with my joke. “You’re asking me to move in with you? Already? But what am I going to tell Joe Manganiello when he comes looking and confesses he loves me?”
“Tell him to back off.”
“Tempting…”
“Move in with me and it’ll be Harley rides whenever you like.”
“The offer’s getting better now, but… Joe, he’s just…”
“All right, I got it now. Move in with me and I’ll buy you all the fuckin’ llamas in the world.”
Paisley bursts out in hysterical laughter and a couple people in the aisle glance over at us with wide eyes, but I don’t give a fuck about them and turn back to her. Paisley has a hand slapped over her mouth, but her eyes tell me she’s grinning and still dying inside.
I wink at Paisley as I get a bottle of the Italian pasta sauce she was eyeing moments ago and place it in the cart I’m holding. “It may have been a joke, but I win over Joe Manganiello any day of the week.”
“Glad you’re feeling like your old self again,” Paisley murmurs all serious when we walk out of the aisle and down the next.
I glance over at her and smile. “Me too, wildflower. Me too.”
During the next few minutes, we finish up our shopping, my brows knitting in amusement when Paisley walks into the floral section of the store. There are only a few flowers remaining from the early morning and she takes them all and places them on top of the grocery basket. I’m even more lost when she grabs a packet of little electric candles.
“What are you going to do with those?”
“You’ll see,” Paisley says all secretly, like I’m missing something.
I can’t help but chuckle. “You have something planned?”
She grins. “Maybe.”
Hmmm, I wonder what it could be…
It gets even stranger when she walks into the baby section aisle and tells me to shut my eyes.
“I’m so confused.”
“Just close your eyes. It’ll all make sense when we get to your beach house.”
My lips pull up into a smile as I comply. “Whatever you say, Pais.”
What feels like half a second passes before Paisley instructs me I can open them again. There’s this smirk on her lips as she stands before me with something behind her back, like she’s hiding something from me. “When this item gets scanned, don’t look.”
“Why? You going to pacify me or something?”
Paisley giggles and I laugh with her. “Not quite. It’ll all make sense very, very soon.”
After we’ve paid (well, after we had a solid five-minute debate over who should pay as she wanted to and I wasn’t hearing it because I wanted to pay, and I finally won), we take a quick walk back to the beach house and start putting the items away in the fridge and cupboards. Once we’re done, we wash our hands with the new lavender handwash Paisley convinced me to buy to make this house seem more lively compared to my old basic handwash. I don’t even know how she thought about it, but God was she right. The lavender smells so damn good and smooth against my skin.
Then, it’s a waiting game because Paisley tells me to wait downstairs in the kitchen until she calls me. The ‘okay’ is barely all out of my mouth before she’s mounting the stairs two steps at a time with the packet of candles, flowers, and that mystery item I haven’t managed to catch a glimpse of, no matter how hard I tried. All I can do is laugh because I have no idea what she is planning. Her eagerness for whatever it is she’s hiding has me so intrigued and amused.
What is she scheming?
So, I sit on one of the kitchen barstools and wait. I smolder as my hand brushes over the oversized marble kitchen island, memories of earlier today running through my mind of when Paisley was lying down on it while I drove her to ecstasy.
So. Fucking. Hot.
My cock throbs in my slacks at the mere memory of her sweet moans and how her body reacted so naturally to my tongue and fingers. I love the intensity of us. I love how we can be so passion-filled and full of lust and temptation, and that we can also be so tender, raw, and sensual. I enjoy the mix, the dynamics, all the in-betweens. I love that we feel all this, even without sex yet.
Opening up to Paisley earlier tonight wasn’t easy for me. It took trust and fuck how much I trust this woman. I could go my whole life and never meet a woman like Paisley again. I know I only said a summer but… could I really let her go at the end of August? Or in reality the end of July before she heads to Seattle at the start of August to settle in before college?
It takes a lot for me to connect with somebody, but with Paisley Reign it’s on another level. The way she was looking at me after I told her the depth of where some of my past traumas lay really spoke to me. She was looking at me with such emotion and grief in her eyes as if she empathized with me on this completely other level.
No other woman has ever connected that deep with me before.
No other woman has ever wanted to make sure I was truly okay.
No other woman has ever assumed that just because I present this tough exterior, that I don’t need a little healing too.
Nobody. Nobody. Nobody but Paisley.
“YOU CAN COME UP NOW!”
I take the stairs three at a time, beyond eager to uncover what Paisley’s been hiding. I stop at the top of the stairs, turning on the recessed lights, and my gaze drops to the single yellow rose petals leading up the hallway like breadcrumbs through my primary bedroom and to my bathroom. Smiling, my Italian leather shoes slap against the hardwood floors as I inch closer and closer to the closed bathroom barn door.
Whoa, what is going on?
As I slide open the barn door, my jaw literally drops at the sight in front of me.
Dio mio.
Wow.
Scattered yellow rose petals create a curved pathway to the free-standing oversized bathtub, a few of those electric candles outlining the path. The warm glow the candles create is so moody and romantic, mostly because they brighten the bathroom without having to switch on any other light. Paisley’s sundress and black lingerie are scattered on the floor beside the candles and holy shit. I’ve never closed that barn door behind me so fast.
I don’t know what to look at first, the filled-up bubble bath full of beautiful light pink, orange, red, and white flower heads floating around, or the huge picture window behind the free-standing tub that outlooks beautiful scenic views of the nearby ocean waves and full moon and twinkling stars that reflect upon it in the dark midnight sky, or Paisley who’s sitting by the edge of the bathtub completely naked. I go with the latter because I can’t take my eyes off the beauty that she is. Her stunning soft cream skin. Those beautiful, ample breasts and light pink nipples. Striking long legs and perfect curves. Her dark hair pulled up in a top bun. That bright grin. Paisley is such a natural beauty, so genuine and real.
Boldness.
Confidence.
A newfound spirit.
This is what I see when I look at her.
I can feel my heartbeat in my ears. In my throat. In my pulsing hard cock. Everywhere especially my heart because it’s capsized at sea. I’ve never been surprised in my life, not until right now. Paisley is special. So damn fucking special it hurts.
“Wow, wildflower. I could spend my entire life telling you how beautiful you are.”
“And you said you’re not a romantic.” Paisley grins wider, her honey-brown eyes twinkling as she steps closer to me. “I really appreciated the courage you had to share so much about yourself, so I want to be a little brave too. I want to show you you’re not the only one who seeks comfort from anxious thoughts and the world itself by going to your favorite place to find yourself. So, this is my thing…” She steps even closer, and I wrap my arms around her petite waist, loving the feel of her bare body against my shirt and slacks as she gestures behind to the bathtub. “I want it to be ours. I want it to be yours. When the world gets too much, when you just want some quiet, when you want to remember me… escape into a world of me here.”
I’m in awe.
Complete awe.
A relaxing little mind escape with a bubble bath filled with a bed of pretty flowers.
Whoa.
I lower my head to kiss her, but Paisley presses a finger on the center of my lips to stop me and smirks. “Not yet, baby.”
The way she calls me baby, that smirk, the way her hips softly sway as she picks up a black envelope from the bathroom counter… God, I want to devour her.
Paisley shakes the envelope in her hand. “Voilà!”
I laugh.
“Remember that day I was planting the flowers and you asked me to recite a poem?”
“Yes.”
“Well, over a year on and I finally have the courage to share my work. But this isn’t the one I was going to recite that day. This is another one I wrote for you. The one you peeked at that day at the beach weeks ago.”
This warmness rushes across me. Whoa.
She did this… for me.
“Paisley… I don’t know what to say. I feel honored. Thank you.”
“You’re more than welcome.”
Our fingers brush at the action, causing my eyes to snap back to hers. She’s so damn gorgeous. My eyes darken as Paisley’s arms wrap around my neck, and her hard nipples graze my chest through my button-down shirt, making me go crazy.
Paisley’s soft lips brush against my cheek in an extended kiss before she pulls back and whispers, “I know it was yesterday, but Happy Birthday, Saint. From me to you.”
“Thank you, wildflower.”
Grinning, Paisley nods down to the envelope. “Open it!”
Open it, Lisconti.
Why are you so nervous?
I gulp down, knowing the words I’m about to read will be like none other. The depth in them… I know is going to destroy me, more than I already am. My gaze continues flickering between Paisley and opening the envelope, always with a smile on my face because this moment means a lot to me.
Setting the envelope back on the bathroom counter, I unfold the piece of paper inside and clasp Paisley’s hand in mine with my free hand. The second my eyes land on the paper and I read the title, my heart… it fucking stops. It stops because everything about this piece of poetry is everything that we are.
Oceans of Us
Sometimes I see you and it’s as if I’m floating
into another world, with or without you.
With your ocean eyes
My flowers will never die
There’s nothing more that knows me, than the daisies lying next to me
They know my song
Have seen my story
Yet all along, can never breathe in glory
And then, there was you
The only man that understood
That sometimes in life, there’s much more to the heart than ‘I love you too’
Sometimes it’s a glance
Or a single gentle touch
Sometimes it’s your voice, saying that ‘you’re enough’
Either way, and whatever it may be,
even forbidden shadows dance in the wind
With the waves beside us, that crash us back to shore
Just know this feeling of being entirely gripped,
like whenever I’m with you and the ocean flowers sing, stripped
Is so new and gold, that I never want it to grow old
Because in your hold, I feel things that could make flowers cry
But my love for you… I know for certain, it will never die.
All I know is whenever I’m with you,
In these fateful waters…
I’m found.
I’ve loved.
I’ll drown.
In these Oceans of Us
I forget how to breathe.
Words fail me.
I’ve never read anything this powerful before in my entire life, let alone it being written for me. I’m speechless. I literally have no words because I’m so taken aback by her compassion, so grateful for her existence, in awe of her newfound confidence.
When I glance back up at Paisley with a heavy knot in my throat, I’m surprised to find she’s not in front of me anymore. I became so lost in that poetic gold that I didn’t even notice her hand slip from mine. I didn’t notice a single thing but the intensity of my heartbeat as emotion laces every beat.
Paisley steps into the bathtub, the water lapping by her breasts and glistening her skin as she sits up against the left side. Her warm eyes meet mine… and there’s something inside me that explodes, something so fragile yet gold. So warm. So insatiable.
“Come join me and tell me what you think.” Paisley smiles.
I catch the kids’ bubble bath bottle on the bathroom counter, and as much as I feel like laughing, it makes me want to cry because nobody has ever made me feel this special before. Nobody has gone out of their way to surprise me with words beyond all the moon and all the stars in the galaxy. Nobody has moved me this deeply, nobody but my wildflower.
I’m found.
I’ve loved.
I’ll drown.
In these Oceans of Us.
As I set the paper on the vanity counter, my eyes darken as I quickly work the buttons of my dress shirt with one hand while stepping out of my shoes and socks. Once I strip out of my button-down, it falls to the tiled floor with a soft thump, all while my hands quickly work to undo my belt and slip it off alongside my slacks. Gaze never leaving hers, I find myself smirking at how Paisley crosses her arms over the edge of the bath, simply waiting for me with a sexy lip bite.
My thumbs brush against the side waistbands of my boxer briefs, and my hard cock that’s straining against the soft material is aching to be freed. My heart has never raced this fast before and without a doubt it’s because I know the second I step into the bathtub with Paisley, nothing will ever be the same between us… and fuck, I’m so ready for it.
Ready to give Paisley Reign every single part of me.
Ready to show her the type of man she makes me become.
Ready for whatever tonight will bring as long as I’m with her.
Only her…
Always her…
My wildflower.
