Kismet or Happenstance? Ch. 10

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The moan he pressed into her moist flesh made her shiver. "Like this?" His tongue swept over her. Pleasure coursed through her blood like a livewire, crackling along her veins. Even the feel of his breath on her skin excited her. "Or this?"

"Both."

"So greedy." Then he showed her how both felt, swipe after suckle after swipe. "Mmm...so sweet." The tracing paper rustled, flicking her breasts as she sagged onto the table. She saw him shove down his jeans through half-lidded eyes. The look they shared when he caught her staring at his cock made her burn with anticipation. Then Sean showed her what it was like to really burn when he brushed his shaft back and forth between her folds.

"Do that again," came Sean's rough demand when she rocked in time with him. He gripped her hip and shoulder, controlling her while the head trailed over her clit and inched lower. Ana cried out at that first hard probing. He took his time pushing every inch into her. She felt every contour, every ridge of his relentless penetration.

"Remember how much you love this?" His gruff voice rolled through her like smoke and permeated the darkest corners of her mind.

He felt warm and heavy inside her. "Yes."

She rolled her hips so her sheath twisted along his length in corkscrew spirals. Sean swore and caught her hips in bruising grip. His withdrawal came with the same measured pace. For a girl who didn't like surprises Ana loved how Sean easily switched from aggressive to tender during sex. Her eyes watered. The slow friction felt every bit as good as his entry. She whimpered in pleasure and regret when just the tip of him remained within her. She wanted him back. Deep. His fingers skated down her spine then flew back to her hip when she bucked. "Sean."

"What?"

She knew why he waited, knew he wouldn't move until she begged him to. The battle between rebellion and surrender created the most decadent ache.

Sean withdrew a fraction.

"Please. I need it."

"What? Tell me."

Ana didn't disappoint him. There was freedom in submitting to something bigger than herself, in letting it consume her. She opened her mouth to speak again but Sean stole her words with one merciless thrust after another. This was the man who would break down any barrier until they were linked. Every move he made within her affirmed it. She pushed off the table to meet each inward drive. His hand curled into her hair, tugged her head back as he leaned over her. The ride was wild, demanding and too good to last. They slumped over the table, their energy spent.

"Now I kinda hope you win the bet."

Sean rubbed his cheek against her hair and pressed a smile to her temple.

* * * * *

Sunday morning came with the excitement of welcoming their loved ones into their home. Ana tucked the flowers Gwen brought into a vase. She looked out the kitchen window and saw the Cobra cruise up the driveway before the engine's low rumble announced its arrival.

"Your folks are here."

Dominic Brennan skipped out to the passenger side and opened the door for his bride of forty years. His excitement over that car hadn't faded since the day Duncan and Sean handed him the keys. Don and Jack Williams practically turned the same age when they peeked out the window to investigate but Sharon found Dodger way more interesting.

"Holy sh—"

"Jack!" Gwen's brown eyes lasered him with the look all teenagers made their mother's perfect. She turned to Don for reinforcement. His wry expression was more for Gwen's benefit than for Jack's censure.

Hugs, handshakes and kisses started in the foyer. Housewarming gifts were set on the kitchen counter before the house tour began. There was pride in hearing the superlatives, in seeing their family take in the transformation of all the rooms they'd seen in various stages of chaos. Their home was a proclamation of two lives joined to create something new and whole onto itself.

"Ana, this is beautiful," said Gwen of the antique china displayed in the dining room's two armoires. The set was a family heirloom passed down to her mother. Gwen traced the ornate carvings in the wood. "Where did you buy these?"

"At a flea market. Can you believe we got those for two hundred dollars?"

Clodagh turned to Ana. "Both?"

"You should've seen her talk the guy down," Sean said with disbelief that held a tinge of embarrassment. Ana glared at him.

"We just sanded them down and painted them." She'd chosen the Chinese red not only because it made the delicate collection of dishes stand out; it was Sean's favorite color. "Maybe we can do Thanksgiving here this year."

Gwen put her arm around Ana's waist, her brown eyes lit up as she looked to Clodagh. "No long hours in the kitchen? I like the sound of that!"

They all talked their way to the kitchen, making plans for the big feast. The men carried the sports talk outside when Jack asked Dominic about his "sweet ride". The rumor that Sean had helped to restore it cemented his cool status in Jack's eyes. At first Ana didn't think much of it when Sean and her father didn't return. But the minutes dragged on and she found her attention shifting from the buoyant chatter around the island to the vigil she kept on the driveway. From here it looked like they were taking turns at a monologue. An uneasy curiosity rose up. What was taking them so long? They walked into the kitchen after an eternity, Ana scanned their faces for clues but found none. She filed it in the back of her mind to stay on the lookout for a moment when she could take one of them aside.

"I was telling Ana we should have her help us decorate," Clodagh told Sean.

"Just don't complain when she makes you shop all day long." Sean went on to tell them about their trips to flea markets where she'd turned into a furniture predator. "All you have to say is 'furniture' and she'll be up and ready by five."

Ana cut her eyes at him then turned back to Gwen and Clodagh. "Everybody knows you've got to get an early move to catch all the good deals."

But Sean wasn't done. He told them about the endless minutes standing in one Home Depot aisle while Ana read every light bulb box to find the best color temperature. "The guy who was helping us hadn't heard of that either. So what does Ana do?" He looked at her. "Tell 'em."

He was mostly wrong if he thought she'd get embarrassed telling everyone how she morphed into a "lighting professor". Home Depot should thank her for the invaluable knowledge she'd imparted to their employee. But Sean had everyone besides Jack chuckling by the time she'd explained her side of things.

"So much for being my favorite design assistant."

"Aww." He kissed the top her head.

Jack cracked an imaginary whip in Sean's direction with a whoosh. Laughter erupted again.

Ana went over to stand next to Jack, who stood taller than he did over Thanksgiving. "It's good to know who's really on my side. You just wait a few years, Jack. You'll see what it's like."

A sly grin played across Sharon's face. "Maybe it won't be that long."

Jack replied with a look of disgust.

By the time Stacy arrived a half hour later the scent of barbeque spices drifted off the grill. The afternoon passed with rowdy outbursts, tense silences and good food. Duncan brought Grams and Grandpa Sean to round out the group. Stacy and Sharon seemed to watch Duncan as much they did the game.

The final quarter was epic. New York scored the first touchdown. New England answered and took a four point lead into the last two minutes. New York advanced to the twenty-four yard line with a minute to go. The next four plays put the Patriots' perfect season in peril. Thirty seconds left. History and every sports cliché known to man was in Eli Manning's hands. The ball flew into the New England end zone. Only the TV spoke.

"It's over! It's over! Oh. My. God!"

"They can come back!"

"Brady can do it."

Silence.

The football sailed towards the Giants' end zone and fell out of reach. Jubilant screams ricocheted around the living room.

Stacy giggled when her high-five hit the air instead of Ana's hand. "You did it again," she said and took another swig of her wine cooler. "If I was Gisele I'd be consoling Tom all night long."

Grams chuckled; the only one in her family able to make sound. "He is a fine looking one." Grandpa Sean wasn't amused.

The rest of the Brennan clan recovered just in time to see coach Belichick scurry off of the field.

Don Williams shook his head. "Un-believable! You'd think he didn't know there was a fifty percent chance of this happening."

The Williams ate and drank in celebration while the Brennans ate and drank because there was nothing to celebrate. Ana loaded another tray full of snacks and watched them carry on in the living room. This was why she'd moved across the country. Her family. Her home. It was much bigger than she'd hoped for back then. Sean made his way to her holding several bottles. My family. My home.

"Quit smirking and hand it over."

Instead of correcting his assumption, she pushed the folded note across the counter. "I added some stuff you're very good at, you're going to like it."

"Smooth," he teased then opened the yellow paper.

Ana patted his butt. "I'm learning from the master."

"You're going to kill me."

"See? I have confidence in you—but what a way to go, eh? " She tore up his list and threw it in the trash.

"Yeah, don't rub it in or anything."

* * * * *

March, 2008.

Ana picked up the fashion magazine even though she already had a copy featuring Darien Scott on the cover. She flipped the pages until she got to the cover credits. The elation at seeing her name at the end of the list still hadn't faded. She paid for the bottles of water and merged into the stream of passengers and rolling luggage.

She hadn't been on a plane since her trip to New York last September. At the time she'd thought the meeting with the Bergman retail team to be spectacularly anti-climactic. When Camille Pratt invited Ana to lunch she wrote it off as the mandatory kindness one got after essentially being told "we think your stuff sucks"—at least that's how her ego took it. Ana expected the golden brush-off while they ate alongside a busy Manhattan side walk. What she got was a restrained cheerleader in a business suit and stilettos. "The fact that the buyers wanted to meet with you is validation of your talent." Those words wouldn't have fueled Ana's determination had they come from someone else. "Try other stores. Trendy boutiques would be a fine place to start, perhaps you'll let it slip that Bergman was interested," Camille said with a cunning smile.

So instead of moping on a plane for six hours, Ana drew inspiration from Sean's can-do spirit and Simon's make-the-system-work-for-you strategies. She plotted, made phone calls and met store managers until she found a boutique on Hollywood's trendy Robertson Boulevard to carry her jewelry. Then she launched a website and gave Darien several pieces to wear during public appearances and in the band's videos.

The advertising ploy paid off.

Sales were steady until fans and fashionistas had to know where Darien got those necklaces and earrings. Now vendors were calling her—Bergman New York was one of them. The next meeting would be different. Ana's belief in her creations was boosted by sales figures and good buzz. Most of all she had the conviction that Bergman wasn't the only avenue available to make this new venture a success. Maybe in time she could afford to move on from Design Haus.

There was another trip to New York in the works but this one to Maui was a well earned respite, especially for Sean.

Ana slowed her steps when she saw a paperback novel in Sean's seat while her tote guarded its neighbor. She looked on from the corner with pride. Sean stood at the end of the aisle in the middle of two spring breakers while another pointed his phone at them. He deserved to bask in the moment; after all it had been ten years in the making. It was all thanks to that stripped down little song she'd fallen in love to almost two years ago.

When scenes like this one first occurred after the Exit Twenty-Nine single and video debuted, Sean admitted the attention would've gone straight to his ego had it happened in his twenties. Now he enjoyed his taste of fame for what it was and joked that he had about ten minutes left. Ana was happy for him because the accolades were hard earned, because the law student who almost had a record deal no longer had that lingering "what if".

These days he focused on seizing the momentum from his work on Letters from the Road to establish himself as a writer / producer. Sometimes Ana worried about his workload because he did all this while still in legal. But he was happy. However, the time might come when he'd have to make a permanent trade: days at the desk for days turning sounds into music, words into lyrics. She'd look after him to make sure he didn't burn himself out. That's why she'd suggested they get away for a few days.

The subtle change of his expression when he spotted her reached farther than words. He never looked at anyone that way.

Sean opened his hand. "Hand it over."

"I promise I won't check e-mail the whole time we're there."

He didn't budge.

"What if you check it once a day and let me know?"

"Having you pester me all day long isn't my idea of a vacation."

Ana pursed her lips. Sean's fingers called for compliance. At one time she believed having a man—anyone—look after her meant compromising too much of her independence. But while navigating the overlapping spaces between couple and individual, Ana found herself freer, bolder to be herself, encouraged to pursue the things she wanted. She surrendered the Blackberry and let the fun and relaxation they planned for the next five days seep in.

If this trip was supposed to be a stress reliever, it sure hadn't started that way judging from the rattling sounds that came from the bathroom.

"What's wrong?"

Ana continued digging in her make-up bag. "I can't find my pills. I know I put them in here!" Finally, she looked at him. "Did you bring condoms?"

He shook his head. "I'll get some in the morning," he said though the point was moot. Ana continued fretting, zipping and unzipping. She wouldn't sleep until she found those pills. Hell, if it were possible she'd fly back home to track them down. He grabbed the bag.

"A baby isn't the end of the world."

"Gee, Irish, you sure know how to make a girl feel better." It was almost two am what did she expect? "Why are you getting all worked up over something that hasn't even happened?"

"Because a baby is a big deal. Don't think because my dad's been cool about us living together that he won't kick your ass and mine if I go home with a bun in the oven."

He snorted and shook his head. "Your dad?" The fact that she only had on a shirt and panties didn't detract from her exasperated look but he saw more. He dropped the bag on the counter. "Come here." Ana walked into his arms. "Even though we're going to fuck like crazy while we're here, it doesn't mean you'll get pregnant. And no, I wouldn't freak out if you did." He touched the tip of her nose. "I know how that mind works."

"It's not that," she said quietly. "We have so much going on. I just want to enjoy us being together—just the two of us, a little while longer."

"Me too."

"And then I think about our baby...and I want that too. But I don't want it to feel like...pressure when it happens."

The way her voice and expression softened when she said "our baby" filled him with a mix of love for this woman and longing for the future they'd have together. Whenever he was sure he'd committed his entire heart to her, Ana showed him there was more for her to take.

Sean brushed back her hair. "No matter how our kid gets here, he or she will be very much wanted. Okay?"

Ana nodded and stayed in his embrace while she reached an arm into her handbag, calmer this time. Out came a thin card with rows of pills attached.

"And I was just about to call 911."

She sent him "the look". "Very funny."

"You're so cute when you're pissed," he said before he nuzzled her neck.

Ana smoothed the side of his face. "Our children will be so lucky to have you as their father."

Sean, who'd been quick with words from the time he'd learned to speak, found he had none. So he put everything in his kiss, in the way he reached for her. He held her until the weight of their travel and the late hour left his bones.

"I thought you were tired," Ana whispered. Her fingers sliced through the hair above his nape. She took her time to follow the dips and rises of the strands because the simple act brought her pleasure. And that knowledge sent pin pricks of arousal over his skin.

His hands followed the curve of her backside and drew her up into him. He studied her face. "Are you?"

The corner of her mouth curled upwards before she voiced her answer. Her kiss was a soft brush of lips, innocent and sweet. Sweetness gave way to something more ardent when he opened his mouth for her. Her taste swept through him, made him answer the slow glide of her tongue with his own. He heard a moan but didn't know who made the sound; he didn't care. What he needed was the feel of her skin against his, to know he pleased her as much as she pleased him. She writhed against his fingers when he reached inside her panties. Sean broke the kiss and molded his palm over her center again and again. He felt warm, moist flesh and nothing else.

"You're just full of surprises."

"I take it you approve."

"Of this?" he asked as his fingers neared her opening. "Always."

He hoisted her up onto the vanity, pulled aside her panties and put his eager mouth on her. Ana's nails scored his scalp as he licked. The sensation kept him sane while she bucked and cried out. Damn. The taste of her earthy musk made him want to bury himself in her heat until she screamed.

"Sean."

He knew what that note in her voice meant even if his fingers weren't being clenched within her sex. "Go with it, sweetheart."

Ana wanted to but not without Sean inside her. It wasn't the same. She told him so and pulled at his shirt, forcing him to stop. His belt clattered on the tile; their clothes fell away. He grasped her knees and pulled her to the counter's edge. "I love you," she said as she opened for him, inviting him to her. Her breath caught when he fed her the first inches of his shaft. Ana fell back and bumped her head against the mirror. It barely registered against the sensation of being stretched and filled. "More...need you."

Sean needed the bed. He could love her there the way he wanted. He wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her off the vanity.

"Wha—Ohmigod!" Ana's voice cracked with sweet hurt as her weight bore down on his entire length.

"I know."

Every nerve shook from the effort to remain still while he let her adjust to the swift impalement. With no barrier between them he felt everything in how Ana enveloped him. Soft. Humid. Pressure. Each step he took caused him to shift deep inside her, made her bury breathy sounds into his neck.

They fell onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, kissing, hands searching, skin covering skin. Love came in broken phrases and unsaid words. Sean fought for a slow, deliberate pace. He had to feel every sensation and catch every expression that crossed her face when he pushed in, when he eased out. He wanted Ana to feel him and see him too. Ana moved beneath him, with him, pulled him down on to her as though she had to burrow closer still.

Somehow the slow cadence wasn't fast enough—and then fast wasn't fast enough. Up and up they went, reaching higher, straining together. The mattress protested. Sean tried to warn her how close he was, how good it already felt but Ana drank his desperate whispers. He fisted the sheets and slammed his eyes shut, helpless as they plummeted into the endless free fall. Her fingertips clutched his damp back, making sure he wrung out every bit of pleasure within her before he collapsed.