Raw and Broken Ch. 06

I shrugged. "I'd be okay."

He gave me a lopsided smile. "I know you would, honey. It's no secret what your time in France has done for your morale. But we also know you'd be wishing you were back here. Remember the conversation we had last Christmas? How sad you were? How you missed everyone? The traditions?"

I nodded then shrugged. "We could come home for the holidays."

"Daphne, do you hear yourself? If we're living in France..." He put his other hand on my face, framing my damp cheeks. "You've told me so many times that what you long for is finally finding the one place you belong. And you know it in your heart that you've already found it. Right here. This...this is home."

A million different questions and thoughts raced through my head. But the one that stood out was: he was right. Again.

He cleared his throat. "In case you need additional incentive to make up your mind..."

It seemed like time stopped as Stefan maneuvered so he was on one knee. I saw him reach into the picnic basket. Remove a black box. Open it to show a sparkling emerald-cut diamond.

"Daphne Rockland, would you let me love you for the rest of your life? To help you make this house our home? To accept me into your family? To start our own family, God willing? Will you marry me?"

My mind suddenly cleared of all the excuses. All of my doubts and insecurities. I was the new Daphne. The one who had crossed the sea and proven she could be independent. But that didn't mean she had to be lonely. I blinked away my tears and covered his cheeks with my own hands.

"Oui, mon amour," I breathed more than spoke. "Oui, je t'épouserai. Je serais honoré."

###

Stefan and I spent every day of August working on the house. Malcolm had to go back to work once school started, but we arranged for a comfortable chair and ottoman wherever we were so Becca could join us and keep her feet up. We refused to let her help other than to give her opinion on the layout as well as decorative choices. She complained at first, but she seemed to adjust quite easily to be the designated choreographer.

Darryl and Ginger even came down on the weekends to help out. It was nice to see them both. He seemed very happy with Ginger. She was very sweet and mostly quiet, yet I saw that twinkle in her eye whenever Becca brought up anything related to kink. The three of us together could be big trouble. Especially when it came to our men.

Every night after I got cleaned up from all the dust and grime, I slipped my diamond back on my left ring finger and grinned like the Cheshire Cat. The house was coming together. And I had never been happier.

Stefan and I took a break in September to attend all of the Fashion Weeks. First New York, then London, Milan, and finally Paris. Everywhere we went, he seemed to know someone. He pampered me beyond belief. I'd never felt so special in my life.

Claudette welcomed us with open arms when we arrived in France. I met Stefan's lovely aunt, Beatrice—Bea for short, at her insistence—who reminded me very much of his mother, just a little more conventional in both manner and appearance. Definitely not one to embrace the fashion world by choice, but she seemed to have adapted to her hew new lifestyle and held her own.

Bea told me stories of the boys growing up at the beach. How Stefan would come down south with her husband and kids while her sister and brother-in-law travelled, just as I'd assumed. How Malcolm was always such a good friend. She'd feared Stefan would regret accepting her initial invitation, knowing he may be left out when his older cousins did things he couldn't. But a little boy his same age had wandered over to their chairs on the beach that first day, and they'd been inseparable for years.

It made me proud to have brought the two friend back together, even if not intentionally. I was happy for them. I would have Becca, and Malcolm would have my fiancé. And of course, we would all have each other. Stefan seemed to have accepted that he was uprooting his life. Maybe it helped that he was going somewhere familiar, so it wasn't a complete change. Whatever the case, I felt no shame in my decision to stay on the east coast.

Claudette and Bea threw us an engagement party that rivaled some of the after-parties for the fashion shows. It seemed outlandish compared to the small shindig we had with Malcolm, Becca, Darryl, and Ginger. Which was basically a bonfire out on the beach. I think I preferred that one over my future mother-in-law's celebration.

It was strange staying at the estate—even as future family—but I told myself I'd better get used to it. When I questioned if we would be staying with his mother whenever we visited in the future, he gave me an adamant no. He wouldn't do that to me. He'd look into finding us a vacation home. I told him about the flat I'd lived in for the six months last winter and spring. The one that looked out onto the little garden. I wouldn't mind staying there if his mother would allow it since she owned the building. He just grinned widely, his eyes sparkling.

Spring Fashion Week in Paris was just like Winter Fashion Week. And just as I'd remembered it. The chaos of getting from one show to the next. The loud crowds of designers, paparazzi, and models all mixed together as the newest trends of clothes vied for the spotlight. It all made my blood pump faster. Harder. It was thrilling to be back.

Of course, I started to second-guess my decision to not move here. But I knew I'd made the right one. Both about Stefan and where to live.

###

I woke up the morning of the second to last day a little sad that we'd be leaving soon. It didn't feel as bad as it had in May because I knew we'd be back. Instead, it was a postponement that nagged at me. Prior to the trip, we had talked about what I would do for a job after we got settled. Stefan had agreed to put the discussion on hold until we returned as long as I agreed to seriously consider all of my options. For the last few days, I had been content to focus on just being an engaged couple on vacation in the most famous city for love. But after tomorrow...

When I rolled over, I noticed that Stefan was not in bed. I dressed rather sloppily in one of his button-up shirts over my jeans, opting to go without my bra. Which really was my only choice since I couldn't find it. I wondered if I'd left it in the secret den where we'd fucked to the backdrop of his erotic art last night. We'd streaked to his bedroom for round two. Thank goodness for the private hall behind the den...accessed through another secret door disguised in the wall. And for Stefan's dark shirt, now.

I was wandering down the hall, popping my head into each of the rooms in his wing of the house, when Stefan rounded the corner ahead of me.

"Good morning! I'm glad you're up."

I kissed him soundly on the mouth and sighed as he embraced me. "Good morning to you, too."

"I have a surprise. Come with me."

Before I could say anything, he took my hand and practically dragged me after him. A minute later, we were outside in the cool, autumn breeze. It felt good as it kissed my skin...and puckered my nipples. I was glad I'd had the mind to pull my shoes on before leaving the bedroom. I'd remembered Claudette's look the last time she'd seen me barefoot. As if I was some hillbilly child. Had she forgotten how it felt to run around with no shoes...no inhibitions?

When we'd reached the hedge maze, Stefan kept going. I giggled as he led me down the paths with green walls. I felt like we were two teenagers sneaking away to make out. I actually expected that when we found the center—without any difficulty since he was leading—and saw a small bench. But he walked right on past to another opening. And we followed the twists and turns once more.

I was surprised when we stepped out into the openness of a space that was almost a mirror of the estate we'd left maybe ten minutes ago. The twisted tree arch over the entrance was almost the same. There was a winding path off to the right—the opposite direction from the estate-side—that I strangely assumed led to a gathering of willow trees surrounding a white gazebo.

Ahead was a gravel path over a slight incline. I held my breath as we climbed it. Then my arm was being tugged as Stefan continued for another two steps before he realized I'd stopped.

A two-story building stretched out more than up in the middle of a grove of red and orange-tinted trees. It looked very similar to the estate house. The same color brick. Designs of the roofline. Arches on the upper windows. Just in miniature.

"It's the servant's quarters. Or rather, it was years ago," Stefan explained. He squeezed my hand. "It's in excellent shape. Just needs to be dusted out. And of course, your unique touch added."

"Wait. What—"

"For when we visit. It's part of the estate, but separate from the main house. There is a private access drive. And plenty of room for other guests. Because you know Becca and Malcolm will never forgive you if you don't have room for them to stay with us if they visit, too."

"I don't know what to say."

"Speechless. I think that's a good response." He turned me around. "Is this garden too big for you? I know it's not the same as the one you had at the flat."

"No. No. It's just fine." My heart was beating wildly now. I could live here, temporarily. Most definitely. And it would appease his mother. I hope he'd broken it to her easily that I didn't want to stay in her house every time we were here.

"You know, this is all mine someday."

I gulped. Yeah, I'd figured that. At least somewhere deep in my brain. Of all the things I could have said or asked him, what came out of my mouth was, "Is the only way to the estate house through the maze?"

Stefan chuckled, which of course made my knees weak. "No, I just thought it would be fun. It's also the most direct route. But you can walk around it. Or drive. Or ride a horse."

I raised an eyebrow. "Horse?"

He grinned. "The stables are on the other side of that ridge. Didn't I tell you my mother also raises purebreds? You can have one, if you like. I'll teach you to ride."

"Pinch me. This can't be real. It's too...perfect."

Stefan tweaked my nipple through the shirt, which made me squeal. His eyes widened. "No bra?"

"I couldn't find it," I mumbled as he kissed me.

He just growled and swept his tongue into my mouth. When he pulled back, he said, "I guess that's a yes? You'll take the house?"

"And the horse. And whatever else comes with it."

"How about me?"

I grinned wickedly and grabbed his hand. Thankfully, he followed me as I rushed down the winding path. I had been right. There was a gazebo mirroring the one on the other diagonal of the maze—albeit with more wear and tear from lack of maintenance.

Stefan was gasping for breath as I spun him around, undid his pants, and shoved his shoulders so he was sitting on one of the benches inside. I knelt and wrapped first my hands and then my lips around his hardening cock. It took him a moment to snap out of his daze and put his hands on my head.

I had him jerking beneath me in no time. Trying to thrust deeper into my throat. He must have been frustrated as he groaned and gripped my arms, trying to pull me upwards.

I didn't need him to say what he wanted. I saw it in his eyes. Heard it in his strained breaths. I kicked off my shoes and yanked down my pants. Then I was moaning right along with him as he sunk into me while I straddled his waist with my knees on the bench.

Out here in the wilderness with no one around, I let go of everything within me. Unafraid to be vocal. Raw. Completely open.

###

The next afternoon, we packed up our bags and headed to the airport. I was exhausted but absolutely thrilled we'd come. As our plane climbed higher and higher, my mind spun with all of the new experiences. Attending the entire Fashion Week circuit. Finally seeing Paris in the fall. Walking down the Champs-Élysées arm-in-arm under the colorful, changing leaves. Studying pieces at The Louvre. Him teasing me endlessly whenever I moaned in content after drinking real cappuccinos. Finding our new vacation house. Not to mention all of the sex. It was definitely a trip to remember.

We set our energy on full steam ahead once we got back. What had been mere thoughts in my mind were actually coming to life before us. While we had been gone, the contractors had installed all of the drywall and kitchen and bathroom cabinets, counters, and fixtures. We were down to the cosmetic features now. Painting. Flooring. Trim. Finally!

Becca's belly reminded me of mine last year. Small, about the size of a volleyball. Her morning sickness had ceased as mine had around this time, too. When she wasn't resting, she was pouring over parenting books or talking all things baby. Much to the chagrin of Sue, her editor and agent who wanted her to start another series. I held my tongue when I heard Becca tell Sue her books used to be like her children, but now she was having the real thing so the stories would have to take a backseat for now. I was sure she could have written something in nine months. But I was just a model, not an author.

I had a few tearful nights as I thought about Lilly. That she would have been almost a year old when she met her new cousin this coming February. That we would have had our first Thanksgiving and Christmas with her this year. But it was not to be. Stefan held me through those nights, rocking me back to sleep. Constantly reminding me that I was loved and cared for. And that I no longer needed to carry my burdens alone.

Any day now, we would be ready to move out of Malcolm and Becca's home and into our own version of a beach house. I was giddy. And still in disbelief that I was really going to live here. With Stefan!

While we didn't have a true foyer like the mansion did, the entrance made more sense as you walked into a completely open area. The kitchen seemed three times as big with the boxy light fixtures gone, raising the ceiling to the same level as the old dining area. No more ducking.

Our new dining table had been moved to parallel the second-floor stairway, allowing the space just inside the door to be a small reading nook by the picture window that we'd made smaller and into two casement windows that could be opened to let in the sea air. All three areas now flowed much better into the living room.

My most favorite change had been the removal of the screen-room entrance. In its place was a front porch worthy of a beach house in this neighborhood. The stone columns and white railing against the newly-painted blue-gray house with white trim around the windows looked fresher. More welcoming. The wider, stone stairway with a landing halfway up made a big difference, too. It all led to the French doors that opened into the house. To hide the rest of the raised structure below, we'd added lattice against the house with some climbing plants and taller landscaping in other areas.

And we'd been able to keep the porch on the second floor. It mimicked the porch below with the same railing. It also had a pergola at the west end with a padded, lounging bed that faced the ocean so we could relax outside out of the sun. It was also good for having sex under the stars, which we confirmed the night it was finished.

The new layout downstairs had allowed us to have two bedrooms side-by-side behind the wall of the fireplace, as well as a good-sized bathroom with a tub-shower combination. Perfect for overnight guests. But not too many. Definitely not for renters. And the contractor had been able to squeeze in an actual laundry room and small walk-in pantry to boot.

Upstairs, the captain's yacht had set sail for the last time. The fireplace now mimicked the larger one downstairs, skylights had been installed to make it brighter, and we had a true king-sized bed to sleep in. Still, I'd miss that gigantic clamshell-like structure someone had once thought was a good idea to build.

The bathroom had been huge, so we'd taken part of it to create an extra room that was accessible through the loft walkway. I'd suggested a walk-in closet for me. He'd laughed. We'd settled on an office both of us could share.

The only space we hadn't touched was the empty space beneath the main floor. But I was happy to let the dust, cobwebs, and a slew of bugs who probably hadn't liked our invasion to continue their habitation. As long as it remained hidden from view outside.

Our house no longer looked like a ship come ashore in an 80s movie but a truly modern home I could be proud of. A sanctuary on dry land. And I loved it more than any place I'd lived. Even the mansion. Probably because I'd had a say in what it would look like. And it had me anxious to start on the upgrades at our Parisian mini-estate house.

###

I woke up early the morning after we'd spent the first night in our finished home. When I stretched, I groaned as my muscles complained. Then I shivered from the cool breeze coming in across the room. Maybe it had been a bad idea to leave the windows open in November.

"Good morning, honey."

I rolled over to see Stefan lounging beside me in bed on top of the comforter. He must have gotten up for a run on the beach as he was wearing a T-shirt and shorts. I yawned. "Good morning, yourself."

"It's Thanksgiving."

I raised an eyebrow to him. "Already?"

"Time flies when you're living at the beach, baby."

I yawned again. "Apparently. I'm just glad we don't have to paint anything else. Or hammer another nail to hang another picture. Every part of me aches. Even my eyes from looking at carpet samples."

"Well, it's all done," he chuckled. "We've been invited to Malcolm and Becca's for the day. They're making a turkey. But we can stay home if you prefer."

I closed my eyes for a moment and mentally told myself to wake up. I could sleep later. "It's okay. What time do we need to go? Should we take something with us?"

"We've got a few hours. And I bought a bottle of wine at the store yesterday."

I reached up and ran my fingers over the stubble on his cheeks. "So back to sleep?"

His eyes glimmered. "I had something else in mind, but if you would rather rest, that's okay."

I nodded, giving him a sleepy smile as my eyelids already started to drift closed. "I'm sorry. I think I'm paying the price for all the work we've been doing."

He kissed my forehead. "It's okay, Daphne. I'll wake you an hour before we should leave, okay?"

I mumbled some form of affirmation and dozed off.

When I woke again—on my own—I had to pee. Like I'd drunk a gallon of water. He was in the bathroom when I rushed in.

He kissed me after I washed my hands. "Feeling rested?"

"A little. I'm going to take a shower." I stripped and stepped past him.

He patted my ass playfully and growled. "Because you know I always finish."

A moan escaped before I could stop it. I tried so hard to suppress the memories. If I embraced them...I knew the trouble that could come from venturing into that area again. Maybe someday the two of us could explore spanking or flogging. But I was enjoying the vanilla lifestyle way too much now to mess it up. And Stefan knew it. Because we actually talked. All of the time.

I shivered a little as I waited for the water to warm up. Mainly because my eyes were glued on a hot body. I licked my lips while Stefan did a little strip tease to remove his shorts and boxers. He shook his ass at me and then turned to show me his partial erection.

My nipples puckered painfully just looking at his naked body. I was so in a trance that he had to say my name several times before I heard him. He just shook his head and gestured for me to enter the shower first. I stepped backwards into the spray, beckoning him to follow. As soon as the hot water hit my shoulders, I moaned again.