Raw and Broken Ch. 06

Together, we fell over into bliss. It was all I'd ever imagined and then some.

He pulled the anchor blanket over us afterward and hooked one knee over my hip, hugging me to him while his fingers lazily stroked my arm. "You are amazing."

"You're not so bad yourself." I tilted my head back with a smile. "Was it worth the wait?"

"Absolutely." He kissed me softly. "But please don't make me wait another eight months before we can do this again."

I just laughed and traced his features with my eyes. "When did you cut your hair?"

He reached up and felt his head, as if he hadn't realized he no longer had the carefree waves in the back and on the sides. "Last week. Thought it looked more professional. Less like the model I'm not. I can grow it out again."

"I like it short."

"Oh, okay."

I felt his stomach rumble under my hand. "You know, if you're still hungry, we'll have to get dressed and go back to Malcolm's house to find food."

Stefan groaned. "I don't want to move."

My own stomach rumbled then, and we both laughed. "We may not have a choice."

"I could have something delivered."

"And at least one of us will have to put on clothes to answer the door. Besides, we need to look for those tools."

"Oh, so the fun is done?"

I untangled my limbs and crawled off the bed, making sure to wiggle my bare ass at him. "I'm sure I'll need a shower after all the hard work we're going to do this afternoon."

Stefan growled. "Who's the tease now?"

###

We'd already removed anything not nailed or glued down. So we spent the rest of the week dismantling the bunk beds, tearing out countertops, and ripping up flooring. Stefan met with a contractor on Wednesday. And a locksmith was able to open up the lower level which revealed just a cement slab and a lot of cobwebs between the vertical support poles. The saddest day was Friday when a couple of men showed up and started sawing away at the circular bed, cutting it into smaller pieces.

Each day after we'd finished working, we took a shower back at the mansion, ate dinner, and sat on the porch watching the waves before we made love and fell asleep in each other's arms. It was wonderful.

And yet, I knew in the back of my mind that it couldn't last. This wasn't my home. It wasn't his.

I tried not to think of what would happen when Malcolm and Becca returned. It was hard enough that I'd encroached on their home for so long. Stefan would need to get a hotel room in town. Maybe I could stay with him. We'd discuss that hurdle soon enough. Until then, I enjoyed the time alone with him.

Knowing that the contractor couldn't come back until Monday with preliminary plans, we slept in on Saturday. I was the first to wake, and when I came back from the bathroom, I stood next to the bed, my body shivering from the cool breeze blowing in the open window. Outside, I could hear the rain drumming on the rooftop of the second floor porch.

Stefan was on his back, his right arm still laid out from where it had been under my neck. The other was bent and up by his head. I'd flung the covers off me in my rush to relieve myself, leaving his right leg exposed. The sheet and blanket covered his groin, left leg, and part of his chest on that side. He looked so peaceful. And vulnerable.

With an evil grin, I ran buck naked down the hall of the mansion and warmed a washcloth. Back in the bedroom, I moved the sheet aside and groaned, licking my lips. Even flaccid, Stefan was magnificent.

I started by lightly running the wet cloth over him. Warming him. Then I wrapped it around his cock, stroking with the slightest pressure. When I found that sitting next to him grew uncomfortable, I switched to kneeling. But that was awkward as well. In the end, the best position seemed to be part his legs and lie between them. Which brought my face in level with his cock.

He finally stirred as I removed the cloth and wrapped my hand around him. I darted my tongue out to lick the tip. To tease the precum from the eye. I had just taken the head between my lips when I heard his gasp then a guttural groan.

His hands rested on my head, guiding me.

Without skipping a beat, I lifted my eyes to his face and slid more of him into my mouth.

"God, woman, if I could only wake up to this every morning." His voice was that sleepy, gravelly sound. And damn, was it sexy.

I just smiled and continued pleasuring him. He stroked my hair, holding it back as I bobbed my head over his waist. He not only felt good inside me, he tasted good, too. I hummed against him, and his hips jerked up.

He didn't let me go too much longer before he tugged on my hand. "Come here, beautiful."

I licked my lips as I crawled up his body, slowly settling over him. We both gasped as he slid into me after a little resistance. Once I was seated on his pelvis, he cupped his hands over my hips.

Stefan ran his fingers up my sides. Caressed my breasts. Teased my nipples. Stroked my back. All while I rocked back and forth, feeling him grow harder inside of me. Filling me.

Occasionally, he thrust his hips up when I mewled as he hit a good spot. But otherwise, he let me control the speed and the intensity down below. Our moans mixed, fighting with the sound of the rain as it grew heavier. His hands focused on holding my waist, keeping me steady as I moved faster.

I had just leaned forward, my knees straddling his hips, my breasts crushed to Stefan's chest as he pumped his cock in and out of me like a piston when I heard someone screech my name.

I screamed. Stefan clutched me to his body and rolled me to the side, pulling the comforter over us in one smooth move. Through my hair that had fallen over my eyes, I saw Becca standing slack jawed in the doorway, one hand on the slight swell of her belly.

"Oh, God! I'm so sorry, Becca."

She was hiding her eyes, even though we were covered up now. "No...no...it's my fault. I didn't wait for an answer after I knocked."

Malcolm appeared behind her. "What's all the racket?"

"Honey, we have company."

Malcolm stepped further into the room and switched on the light. "Oh, shit!"

I blew my hair out of my eyes. "Welcome home."

"Hey, Malcolm," Stefan said, sitting up and pulling the comforter with him.

I scrambled to keep the sheet over my breasts as I sat up, too.

Malcolm blinked and shook his head. "Stefan?"

"Wait, you know this guy?" Becca said, still glancing between all of us.

"We were the boys of summer Don Henley sings about," Stefan said with a laugh.

I punched him in the shoulder.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"I wouldn't brag about that," I mumbled.

"How did— What are— Stefan?" Malcolm fumbled with his motions as well as his words as he crossed his arms, put his hands in his pockets, and eventually just let his arms flop at his sides.

"Why don't you let us get dressed, and we can explain downstairs?" I said.

"That sounds like a good plan," Becca said, ushering her husband—who's jaw kept moving although no sound came out—back into the hall and closing the door behind them.

I flopped back with an oof, flinging my arm over my eyes.

"Well, hey, now you don't have to worry about how to break it to them."

I swung out with my other fist, hoping to catch his arm again. I met a pillow instead and groaned.

Five minutes later, we were clothed and sitting in the living room on the couch across from where Malcolm stood by the fireplace and Becca sat in the chair between us. Why did I suddenly feel like a child who had been caught out after curfew and was being reprimanded by her parents?

Thrice, Malcolm had started to say something but stopped himself. He'd scrubbed his hand over his face each time before turning back to the wall.

"Are you mad?" I asked, my voice a little squeaky.

"Mad? No. Surprised? Yes. I can't believe— How did you—"

Stefan cleared his throat. "We met in Paris. Daphne worked for my mother."

Becca raised her eyebrows at me and crossed her arms. "Sounds like you forgot one big detail when you shared about your trip."

My cheeks heated. "It's complicated."

Malcolm finally sat down in the other chair, closest to Stefan and across from his wife. "Have you been in Europe all this time?"

"No," Stefan said. "I traveled the states after graduation. Helped my mother when she started her modeling agency up north. Then we moved to London. Madrid. Followed the fashion circuit. Been about six years now that we've had the agency in Paris. It was just this past winter that she joined forces with Muriel. If she hadn't, I wouldn't have met Daphne."

"And the two of you?" Malcolm wagged his finger between us.

Stefan shook his head. "I persisted for six months, brother. She finally decided to be friends at the end. I threw out a bone on a whim, but then she flipped the tables on me and rattled my own."

Malcolm's eyes widened. "She rattled your bones? Seriously?"

I sighed. "I found out he's into erotic photography. Artistic rope techniques, mostly. You know I've tried to put that life behind me." I lowered my voice as I added, "So I told him I was a masochist."

"What?" Becca was laughing now. "We hoped you'd become more assertive. You went full women's lib."

"I was scared!" I threw my hands up in defeat. "I was leaving the next day. We were all alone in his private gallery. There was too much temptation. I blurted out a lot of stuff. I wasn't thinking straight."

"It didn't work, obviously," Malcolm chuckled. "He's like a lost puppy who followed you home."

"Well, not exactly." Stefan put his arm across the back of the couch as he told them why he was in Delaware. It took every bit of strength not to take his open invitation and lean into his body. We were still sitting apart when he finished with, "I'd let Daphne go, against my better judgment. Sure, I thought about trying to find her, but she'd made it clear her life is over here. I'd resolved that I'd never see her again. And then she opened your door. It was fate. The rest is, well, history."

Malcolm filled Becca in on the backstory of how he knew Stefan. How they had lost touch after they'd gone off to college. And he kept stopping himself to say he couldn't believe Stefan was really here.

I explained what we had done with the house this week. What the plans were. That they—Malcolm and Becca—should come check out the progress. Give their insight. Then I apologized for Stefan staying here without asking their permission.

Malcolm told me to forget about it. I wasn't a kid they were going to punish—as much as I still felt like it at the moment. But he teased that next time, they were setting rules about having boys over. Which made Stefan chuckle and me squirm a little as I pressed my lips together to stop a moan. I'd never get tired of hearing him laugh.

Becca hadn't made a sound throughout, but her eyes were shiny and her cheeks looked like they might burst if she smiled any wider.

"Get it over with," I said, rolling my eyes that were also misting over.

She jumped up from her chair and gave me a big hug. "I'm so happy for you."

"Could you use an extra pair of hands with the house?" Malcolm said, obviously over the sentimental part of the conversation.

Stefan nodded. "We're in the demolition stage now. Just waiting for the contractor to get back to us on Monday so we can get started."

"Did you hear that?" Becca whispered in my ear as she squeezed into the space on the other side of me on the couch. "We? Us? He's smitten."

I grinned, glancing at Stefan as he carried on the conversation with Malcolm. My heart swelled suddenly. That empty space that had longed to be filled? It no longer ached.

"Yeah, I know. It's great, isn't it?"

###

The house of three became four again. And a half, with my niece or nephew on the way. The second that Stefan tried to excuse himself to make a phone call with the nearest hotel, Becca morphed into mother-mode and insisted he stay with them—us—while his aunt's house was being renovated. Which made it very convenient for Stefan and I to spend quality time together...including between the sheets.

While it may have seemed odd that we were shacking up at my in-law's house, the arrangement worked out well for all of us. The guys demoed during the day while I helped Becca around the mansion or went shopping with her for baby things. And we all ate meals together, like one big, happy family.

Some nights and on the weekends, Stefan took me out on official dates. Dinner and dancing. Walks on the boardwalk. Picnics on the beach. Drives up the coast to see where he grew up.

It was a normal life. A normal relationship. I loved every minute of it.

I'd not been to the beach house since the beginning of the month. The guys had said it was just filthy with the construction, and us women should stay away for safety reasons. So when Stefan suggested I come check it out one rainy day, I jumped at the chance.

I was disappointed as I walked up the old stairs and through the screened-in porch. I'd hoped that would have been fixed first. But my spirits lifted when I saw that the original walls of the kitchen were gone. The north-end where the fridge and stove had been was now extended several feet into the previous bathroom. And apparently, the second bathroom as well.

"Um, Stefan, isn't the outside of the house on the other side of that wall?"

He had his hands on his hips and a big smile on his face. "Yep."

"What about the other bathroom? The one across the hall? The one you were going to make bigger by combining it with the third guest room?"

"I moved it."

I squinted. "You moved the bathroom."

A big nod from him. "Yep."

"What about all the plumbing?"

"You saw the space below us. Completely open. The plumber said it wasn't an issue. Plus, the pipes needed to be updated to code. No better time to make changes than now."

"So if the kitchen goes all the way to the end of the house, where is the bathroom going? The guest bedrooms? Laundry? A pantry? Walk me through it."

He took me by the arm and guided me to the living room instead. "They aren't laid out yet."

"Oh, okay. So what have you two been— Oh, my!"

We stopped in front of the fireplace that was ablaze with crackling logs, evidence that he'd been over here already this morning. The heat beckoned me closer. While it would be August in two days, the weather outside and the extensive openness of the house right now made it quite chilly in here.

But what struck me was that the fireplace had been refaced with rough-hewn flagstones in varying sizes and shades of gray and tan. Some stuck out as little shelves, creating more depth. And it didn't just cover the front. The stone went all the way up the wall past the second floor and ended on an angle following the roofline. There was no mantle, but that was okay. It didn't need it.

My cheeks hurt from grinning. "It's gorgeous!"

"I got some excellent advice." He helped me sit down on a pile of blankets and pillows that had been spread out over the new floorboards. That's when I noticed the picnic basket by the hearth. The bottle of wine.

"What's the occasion?"

"Can't I have a picnic with my girlfriend by the fire?"

"Of course you can." I smiled as he gave me a quick kiss. "But won't she be jealous when she finds out you're here with me?"

Stefan shook his head with a smirk and poured us each a glass of wine.

I watched over the rim of my glass as he opened the picnic basket and removed two plates. Two napkins. And then a square container.

He gently took the glass from my fingers and set it aside as I scrunched up my face. "It's not the same as being there in person, but..."

I took the container he held out to me. Pried open the lid. And was suddenly glad my hands had been free because I would have spilled wine on myself.

"Stefan!" I kept looking up at him and down at the four cheese pastries in the plastic box.

"Just a little taste from home."

"But how did you—"

"Mother to the rescue."

"I could kiss her!" My stomach growled loudly, and I licked my lips.

"Will I do for now?"

I blinked at him. Realized what he said...what he meant. A soft coo met my ears as he pressed his mouth to mine. Then he took the box of pastries and put one on each of the plates.

"The cappuccino doesn't travel well. Sorry."

"No, it's fine. Well, more than fine."

He chuckled. "Just eat, Daphne."

When we'd devoured all of his surprise and drank half the bottle of wine, we laid back on the pillows. The warmth of his body and the fire along with the rain outside made me feel sleepy. I yawned and turned into his body, cuddling closer.

"Hey, don't drift away yet."

I opened one eye. "Then you shouldn't have made this so comfortable."

"I want to ask you a question. Talk about something."

"Or maybe I was wrong." Both eyes were open now. And I had a sudden queasy feeling in my stomach. I hoped it wasn't the combination of pastries and wine. I must have made a face because he snorted softly and smiled.

"Do all women think it's bad news when a guy says they want to talk?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What do you think? Don't you feel that way when we say it?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment and nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. But guys don't usually initiate a serious conversation like that."

"You're stalling." For some reason, I sat up. Natural instinct kicking in, I guess.

"Sorry." He propped himself up on his left forearm. Not exactly sitting like I was, but no longer lying down, either. And the stance reminded me of a model posing, which was distracting. "You know my aunt asked me to put the house up for sale when the remodeling is done."

I nodded slowly. Then I gestured to the barebones of the area around us. "At this rate, it'll be a year."

"There has been a...delay."

"Oh, no! Is your aunt okay?"

Stefan waved his right hand at me. "She's fine. Living it up in Paris. Mother has been indoctrinating her in the world of fashion."

"Oh, good. So what is—"

"I've been talking to Malcolm."

"You're going to move in? Here?" My heart skipped a beat. Did I dare hope? And why did my brain jump right to that conclusion?

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Not exactly."

My smile fell again. "Oh."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Well, yeah. You'd be here, near me."

"Near you?" Stefan sat up the rest of the way and reached for my hands. "Daphne, honey, you can't live with Malcolm and Becca forever."

My lower lip trembled. I felt a tear in my eye. An ache in my chest. He was right. I knew it. I just didn't want to admit it. But I managed a nod.

He squeezed my hands. "I told you before that I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you."

"I don't understand."

"My aunt has given me ownership of the house. I want you to live here."

"But—"

"Us to live here. The house is unfinished because you deserve to make it the way you want."

I sucked in my breath, blinking away my tears. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

"Daphne?" He lifted my chin and tried to look into my eyes.

Every time I blinked, my vision blurred. I had to swallow twice before I could find my voice. "What are you saying?"

"I'm asking if you would move in with me." He glanced around. "Here. Make this our home?"

"What about Paris? Your mother? The business?"

"They are nothing without you. Don't you see that?"

"Don't give up your life."

He cupped my cheek with a warm hand, his thumb brushing away a tear. "I'd do it for you."

"No. I did that for someone else. Twice. It was a train wreck both times. I won't do that to you."

"It's my decision. I'm not those other guys."

"Stefan, I—"

"We can visit Paris. Whenever you like. My mother is sad I won't be there as much, but she understands. You have family here. She has my aunt now, so she won't be alone. And I can still run the business. It's mostly online and through phone calls as it is. You saw how uninvolved I was with the day-to-day functions. Besides, I would never take you away from Becca. From Malcolm. Not if you don't want to."