Finding Infinity (20 page)

He continues unhooking the corset, stopping every inch or so to plant a kiss, or give me a small lick. When he gets to my stomach, he reverently kisses as much skin as he can reach. “This, filled with our baby, will make my life complete.”

I feel blessed that I can hopefully give him the gift of a child that he so desperately wants.

When the corset is finally completely unhooked and lying beneath me, Colin runs his hands over the indentions that it left in my skin. “Did it hurt you?”

“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “Corsets are tight, and they just do that.”

“I don’t like seeing you marked,” he states, and begins to kiss the fine, red lines running down my sides where the corset wire had pressed against my skin.

He’s my gentle, tender Colin tonight. It’s a stark contrast to earlier today, but I’m not complaining. His love is bathing me in a warm, soft glow. When he’s satisfied that he’s made the red marks feel better he makes his way to my center where he gently kisses and licks me, playing his favorite game—this time for real.

“Caroline McKinney.” It’s followed by a soft, probing tongue.

“Doctor Caroline Jane McKinney.” Soft sucks tease my clit, which make me grip the duvet.

“Mrs. Colin McKinney.” This is followed by so much attention that I fall into a face-tingling orgasm.

Colin kisses his way up my body, and pauses once again at my stomach. I gently coax his lips up to my mouth and kiss him, sweetly. He’s still dressed, so I start unbuttoning his shirt. He decides to help, which is just fine by me.

We kiss for seconds, minutes, maybe hours—I’m just not sure, and it doesn’t matter, because it’s just the two of us in our own universe. I reach between our bodies and begin to slowly move my hand up and down the shaft of his penis, while I use my thumb to catch his wetness and massage it around his swollen head. Colin gasps and reaches down, removing my hand. “That feels too good.”

Isn’t that the point?
Not to be deterred, I put my hand back on his penis. “We have all night. Nowhere we have to be in the morning.”

“Oh God, baby,” Colin moans into my mouth. Apparently, that is all the reassurance he needs. I take his penis and push it against my entrance. “Yes, baby. Put it in.”

No need for an engraved invitation with this girl. I direct him inside of me about halfway, and pause for me to adjust to his size. Then, I grab his behind, pushing him all the way in. I gasp at how good he feels. But then, when he starts to move, I moan in pleasure.

They’re slow, direct movements that feel like heaven. Each time, he hits the spot inside of me that makes me crazy, and he knows it.

“Today, you made all my dreams come true. I get my Charlie, and I find out that she’s ready to have my baby. You gave me all of yourself today, baby. I fuckin’ love you.” His eyes confirm his declaration of love.

He gently brings me to the brink of orgasm when he reaches up and gives a hard pinch to my nipples. The contrast of his sweet assault on my body mixed with the pain of my nipples being tweaked sends me over the top with him. We’re a sweaty pile of love mixed with a pinch of lust.

Colin rolls off of me and pulls me into his side. I rest my head in the crook of his arm, and we both fall asleep.

* * * *

I wake up with a start. I reach for Colin, but he’s not next to me. I sit up in bed and look around the vast room. It’s dark, and the red light from the alarm clock illuminating the room tells me it’s after three o’clock in the morning. I spot him, sitting in the formerly red chair that’s now in the bay window that looks out over our backyard and Vegas pool. My sudden movements don’t alert him that I’m awake, so I’m able to really stare at unguarded Colin.

He’s my tragic hero bathed in the moonlight. His face is relaxed. He’s staring out into the night sky. I’m not sure if he’s happy, or sad, or what his emotions are. It’s almost as if he’s posing for a photographer, and has been asked to hold still just a little while longer.

There’s something that I learned about Colin early on in our relationship; In round one, if you will. He handles high-pressure situations in the moment like the professional that he is. Big games don’t bother him. He’s able to take his nerves, stress and anxiety, and turn them into fuel for a big game. This is what separates highly successful elite athletes from those who only achieve mediocre success. However, when the game is over, even if the outcome is in Colin’s favor, he needs his alone time to decompress.

I remember the college game the first year that we were dating, when the Aggies were not expected to beat the number one team in the nation. We did. Colin was successful. I watched him; instead of celebrating with his teammates, he was sitting on the team bench, staring at the football field while everyone went crazy around him. It was the first time I ever saw that reaction from him, and I’d been so concerned.

Over the following two years we dated, I learned that this is what makes Colin, Colin. Win or lose the game, at some point Colin needs to “be,” as he calls it. Previously, that meant a slow and long lovemaking session, followed by Colin retracting into his shell.

Now, as I stare at him, I realize that’s what he’s doing. It’s also what he did at the hotel in Los Angeles the morning after we made love again, for the first time in eight years. I’d thought this was his way of letting me know I was a one-night stand, and was furious with him. I now know that he just needed his time to process what happened.

Today had been a huge day. Not only did we get married, but I also told him that I was ready to give him a baby. I should have known my man better. For his personal life, this was the equivalent of beating the number one team in the nation. I put too much on him. I should have waited, and told him about going off the pill later this week.

The more I watch him, the more of a jerk I feel. I haven’t even been his wife for twenty-four hours, and I’m already a screw up. I climb out of bed and walk over to him. He senses me nearing him and picks his head up, and looks at me. His face is unreadable. His eyes are blank, but demeanor seems to be peaceful. “Whatcha doin’ awake, beautiful girl? I thought I’d put you in a coma,” he says softly.

I don’t respond, and snuggle into his lap. “I shouldn’t have told you yet about getting off the pill. I’m sorry.”

He kisses my head and then repeatedly as he strokes my hair. “Of course you should have. You gave me the best wedding gift possible.”

I look up into his warm, soft eyes. I run my hand over his face feeling the rough stubble meeting the velvet soft skin where hair doesn’t grow. “It was too much for you, in one day. I’ll do a better job of protecting you in the future. I promise.”

“Oh, my beautiful girl knows me too well,” he says, with a slight chuckle. “Nothing’s changed, baby. I still need my ‘being’ time.” He lets out a deep sigh, and adjusts me on his lap. He says in a content voice, “I’m so happy. I never thought I would be this happy again. When I left you in College Station, I didn’t think I would know what happiness felt like again. Today, is the first time since then that I’ve felt pure, uninhibited, no-strings-attached happiness. It’s not an emotion that I’m quite familiar with.” I have to lean in closer straining to hear what he’s saying.

His honest words crush me. A tear seeps out of my eye, because I know what he means. It finally feels like we’re not clinging on to this relationship. We can finally settle into our life, together.

He uses his thumb to wipe the tear from my face. I snuggle against his chest, even deeper, listening to his heart beating knowing that the thump, thump is for me. “I know exactly what you mean. I get it. Do you need to be alone, or can I stay with you?”

“I’d always prefer you to be with me. Never alone, baby. Not anymore,” he whispers against my bare shoulder.

Silence settles over us, and minutes tick by. Our breathing falls into rhythm with each other as our chests rise and fall as one. “Remember when you used to tell me football stories as I fell asleep?”

Colin chuckles again, and kisses my head. “I do.”

“Can I tell you a love story while you fall asleep?” I sound bashful not sure if my story will be as good as some of the ones that he’s told me.

“Sure,” he says, as he lifts me up and carries me back to bed. When he has me situated, horizontal, against him, I begin.

“There once was a handsome prince named Edward. Like, he was the Prince of Wales, and heir to the British throne. He fell in love with an American named Wallis Warfield Simpson. She also happened to be married. He met her at a party, and although it wasn’t love at first sight, he did fall in love with her over the course of a couple of years.”

Colin glances at me. “Is this a real story?” He kisses my cheek.

“Yup. They were a real couple. Now, just listen,” I shake my head but give him a smile so he knows that I’m not angry. He rubs my arm, as if to let me know he’s listening. “When Wallis separated from her husband, Prince Edward and her began their love affair. They enjoyed a couple of years of each other’s company before Parliament got wind of their relationship, and became anxious because she was, well, not British, and a commoner. Then, Prince Edward’s father, the king, died—and Prince Edward took over the royal throne. A media uproar broke out. Who was the woman he was with? It was scandalous.” I pause my bedtime story looking into Colin’s eyes. “Remind you of anyone else you know?”

Colin chuckles. “It sounds a bit familiar, except I’m not a king, and you’re not a commoner.”

“Oh really, McKinney?” I ask as I roll my eyes. “You aren’t a quarterback god, and I’m not a lowly doctor with no claim to fame?”

He tickles my side and says, “Finish your story, Mother Goose.”

“Anyway, Prince Edward is miserable. Like miserable with a capital M. Not too soon after, Prince Edward abdicates the throne to his little brother. He told the world in a radio broadcast that he couldn’t be king without his woman by his side.

“Wallis finalized her divorce from her husband, and then the two got married in a small ceremony and spent the rest of their lives in France, where they lived happily ever after. The end.”

He snuggles me closer to him, and holds on to me tightly. “I understand. I couldn’t live without you. None of this would mean shit.”

“I heard that story for the first time in my British Lit class in college, but it went in one ear and out the other because it had nothing to do with medical school. Then, I rediscovered it when I was working on our wedding. I like the story, and it reminds me of us.” I place my hand on his stomach, allowing my fingers to trace his muscle tone.

“I can’t think of a better bedtime story for our wedding night than that one,” Colin says as he drifts off to sleep.

I’m not tired after my short bliss coma, and lie next to him, studying his beautiful face and thinking about the story. The first time I read it, I thought what an idiot Prince Edward was. Seriously, he gave up the British throne for a twice-divorced lady? But then I reread it, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I did that. Not in the grand fashion of Prince Edward, but I gave up my medical practice for Colin, who’s divorced. I completely changed my life for love. I could sympathize with the constant hounding of the media. I wondered if there were paparazzi digging through their garbage and hiding in Prince Edward’s bushes to snap a picture of the couple?

The more research I did on the couple, the more I sympathized with their story. What Prince Edward gave up was huge and momentous, but what Wallis gave up was equally important, just not on the same scale. She gave up her anonymity. She presented herself to the world for its harsh judgment. On top of that, she had to watch the man that she loved give up everything, including his country, for her. Me giving up my town home in Houston doesn’t seem so bold anymore.

Was it worth it? Did Prince Edward think giving up the throne for Wallis was worth it? No one will ever know what was in his heart, but I know that everything that I’ve done for this man, the one pressed against me, is worth it. I adore him, and I can’t wait to be pregnant with his child.

Chapter Nine

Colin

No one’s happier about training camp starting than quarterback Colin McKinney. “Maybe you guys will start reporting about our upcoming season, rather than my personal life,” Colin said, at the Cowboy’s media day. Rumor has it that he married Doctor Caroline Collins during the off-season, but getting him to confirm it will never happen. Although, I can tell you that he was wearing a wedding band on his left hand.

McKinney looks to be in the best shape of his career. I personally watched him run through his practice drills, and he’s definitely a man with an eye on the prize.

I’m off. I feel like shit. I’ve got no power in my arm. I ache all over, and I want to go home and go to sleep.

“What the fuck, McKinney?” my passing coach yells at me. I shudder and look down at the green grass under my feet. We’ve been working on throwing drills for a couple of hours, and my throws are getting less accurate each time.

I hate admitting the obvious: I’m sick. Being sick is for pussies without immune systems. That’s not me. Our first game of the season is Monday night, at home, in two days. Being sick is not a fucking option.

“You’re throwing is for shit. My seven-year-old daughter can throw more accurately than you.” I know he’s goading me. He knows that I’m sick. I know that I’m sick. I’ll be damned if I admit it to anyone. I’d rather die on this practice field, right here, right now, than tell anyone what’s going on. This is my fucking spot. This is my team. I will not sit out. The starting quarterback spot is mine.

I’ve taken away a veteran’s position on the team. Karma is a bitch, and I’m due. The guy backing me up, Tucker Wilson, is fucking phenomenal. I can feel his nasty, filthy breath against my neck. I’m the quarterback, and I will not give anyone second thoughts about it.

“Just got a head cold. I’m fine. A little fatigued. Maybe we should watch some game film for a little while,” I reply, as fucking chipper as I can muster. The Dallas heat is beating against me. My fever is raging and I’m dizzy. I’ve been too sick to eat or drink much of anything, and I haven’t told a soul. I know if I don’t get some AC soon, though, that’s it. I might pass out. I pray that he gives me the out that I desperately need.