Adrienne looked up without taking her mouth off her fiancé. The sight alone nearly undid Valerie. Then she flicked her tongue over that already bursting with pleasure bundle of nerves before she moved a little lower and thrust her tongue inside. She alternated between light flicks and steady strokes on the outside before dipping her tongue back inside. Adrienne kept a firm grip on each thigh, keeping her pinned to the wall until Valerie’s climax shook her whole body.
For a few seconds, Valerie couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything but stand there with one hand braced against the wall and the other still tangled in Adrienne’s hair. Adrienne rose slowly, looking very pleased with herself as she pressed one last kiss to Valerie’s stomach.
Valerie dragged in a shaky breath. “You know, I’m starting to think that painting belongs in the bedroom.”
Adrienne glanced at the painting, then back at Valerie. Her smile turned wicked. “That would be dangerous.”
“Dangerous?”
“I told you my plan,” Adrienne said, handing Valerie her bra. “You’re still standing, so technically I showed restraint. If that painting ends up in our bedroom, restraint is officially off the table.”
Valerie laughed under her breath as she stepped into her pants. “I dare you to hang it in the bedroom, Adrienne. Let’s see what happens.”
VALERIE TILTED HERhead so far to the side that she looked like a confused golden retriever. “More to the left,” she declared. “It’s hanging a bit crooked.”
Adrienne made a noise that suggested she was losing patience, but shuffled the painting anyway. Her arms were stretched overhead, and the muscles in her shoulders literally pulsed.
“How much further to the left?” she asked, exasperated.
“Just a little,” Valerie replied, then stepped back and took in the living room as a whole: the deep-seated charcoal four-seater, the textured cream boucle rug, and the round wooden coffee table that sat in the center. Copies ofSpurred and Spankedand Amy’s latest bestseller,Outlasting the Heart, were fanned across the surface alongside a half-burned candle, a ceramic bowl of sea glass from the beach, and a glass of green tea that Hattie had been drinking.
“I’d offer to help,” Mick said, folding his arms over his broad chest. He was standing in his thick white tube socks and looked kind of ridiculous. But the house rule was that all muddy boots were to be left in the mud room. A rule Adrienne enforced strictly. “But you’ve only turned me down three times already, and my ego can’t take any more offenses from my future daughter-in-law.”
Valerie laughed and patted her dad on the shoulder. “There’s a lifetime of offenses waiting for you, Dad. You might want to get used to it.”
“Is it straight?” Adrienne puffed out. Her beautiful face was pink from the effort. Her hair, which she had up in a loose bun, was falling apart. “Because honestly, I don’t care if it’s skewed anymore. My arms are going to fall right off.”
“It’s only as straight as we are, babe,” Valerie said, smiling. “But it’s perfect.”
And it was. The oil painting—a windswept cluster of pine trees perched atop a limestone shelf—hung perfectly centered between two massive floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the sparkling grey-blue expanse of Sitka Sound. From almosteverywhere in the living room, the view was framed by purple lupines and pink creeping fireweed that smothered the edge of the wrap-around deck. A set of timber steps gave way to a crushed shell path which wound through the beach grass down to a narrow stretch of pebbled shoreline where the tide gently rolled in.
“Looks beautiful,” Hattie said. Her voice was softer but noticeably stronger than it had been a year ago. The doctors said she was reacting well to the new targeted therapy trial, and with another month of treatment she could quite possibly be in remission. They were all cautiously optimistic. “I’m so happy it finally arrived. The final piece.”
“Why’s it so symbolic?” Mick asked, walking toward the kitchen. He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, bit into it with a crunch, then leaned against the island with his hip. Adrienne had insisted on Calacatta marble countertops, which Valerie had refused because they were too expensive, and so they’d settled on pearl white Carrara marble. “Looks just like any other pine forest to me.”
Valerie caught Adrienne’s gaze and prayed she wasn’t going to spill the truth. Mick would be completely horrified if he knew that once upon a time, Valerie had kneeled with her naked ass in the air, her face between Adrienne’s thighs. The thought made her ache.
“We found a secret advantage there,” Adrienne lied smoothly as she stepped off the ladder. She flashed Valerie a wink before walking over and slipping an arm around Valerie’s waist. “It’s the perfect painting for a holiday house,” she added.
They’d built the house the only way Valerie could accept: with her land, her savings, Adrienne’s investment in the parts they would share, and a loan Valerie had insisted on signing herself.
Which was probably the thousandth reminder that this house they’d built together was just that, a holiday home. They were, as Adrienne liked to call themselves, swallows. For the misty summer months, they’d live right here in Sitka, with the floor-to-ceiling glass letting in every ounce of the northern sun while Valerie ran her local charter boat—a rugged thirty-two-foot custom aluminum Bay Weld—taking small groups out for deep-sea halibut fishing and remote wildlife photography treks.
And when the winter rolled in, Valerie and Adrienne would be free to travel the world, including spending time with Elisabet, Dixon, and Kyle aboardThe Valentine. Valerie still felt weird being treated as a pampered guest rather than a crew member, but she was getting used to it. Unfortunately, their traveling would have to come to an end for a bit.
In about nine months, to be exact.
Happiness bloomed in Valerie’s chest so suddenly that it vibrated right under her ribs and made her dizzy. Her hand almost drifted down to her stomach, but she forced it to stay at her side.
She’d broken all the rules and taken a pregnancy test this morning despite her doctor’s orders to wait at least twelve days after the embryo transfer. But the two pink lines had been blindingly, beautifully positive, and Valerie couldn’t wait to tell Adrienne tonight over a candlelit dinner. She’d even wrapped the test in a Tiffany & Co. jewelry box and was planning on sliding it romantically across the table. When they had first sat down to map out their future, Adrienne’s complex trust funds had required an army of estate lawyers before they could make any major life change. Apparently, getting engaged on a secluded, lantern-lit beach in Bora Bora and deciding to wait a while for the big wedding counted as major. But Adrienne’s reaction to starting a family had come as a total shock. Not only had she whipped out her Notes app on her phone with the list ofbaby names, but she’d immediately contacted Isla for the details for her fertility specialist. Apparently meeting Isla’s twins during the reunion had made her incredibly broody. “It had taken finding the right person to make me want kids,” she’d said. And then she had added, “But only if you get pregnant. I don’t think I can do the morning sickness, and I refuse to wear maternity clothes.”
“What do you think, Val?” Adrienne asked, squeezing her tighter.
Valerie had drifted off into her own head for so long that the sudden pressure of Adrienne’s arm around her waist snapped her back to the present. She looked at the painting, at the twisted pines and pale limestone, and felt her body remember exactly what had happened beneath those trees.
“You’re right,” she said, resting her head against Adrienne’s shoulder. “It’s perfect.”
Because that forest would never be just a forest. It was where Valerie had mistaken sin for strategy and found the sinner who would become her saint.
