We Are US... Page 4

  Holding in my tears, turning to look at the most gorgeous man I've ever known, I wait for him.

  "Talk to me, love. Please..." Z begs as he leans against the headboard. But I don't know what to say. Nothing is wrong, but I can tell he doesn't believe me, and I don't know how to convince him. "Suzanne, please?"

  Shaking my head to clear it, I whisper all I can give him. "I'm not freaking out, and I don't think there's anything wrong. I promise," I say as honestly as I can.

  I know I have to maintain eye contact with Z so he believes me, and though it’s hard under the circumstances, I do it until he nods slowly.

  "Why didn't you...?" I ask embarrassed.

  "Because you weren't acting normal and I was worried about you," he responds still looking at my eyes.

  "When do I ever act normal, Z?" I grin, and finally the mood changes in our bedroom.

  Exhaling a smile, Z nods, "Point taken. However, you were more ab-normal than usual, so I was concerned," he grins.

  "Well, I was fine. Just a little weirder than usual, but otherwise, I promise nothing is wrong." Blushing like we're new to this still, which we aren't at all, I ask, "Would you like to join me in the shower?" And before I even finish the words Z is standing, walking toward me in all his 6'3, ripped, darkly tanned glory as I walk backward from his body and erection toward our bathroom with a nervous smile.

  Turning on the shower, Z tugs the blanket from my body and waits behind me rubbing my back as the water warms. When I turn back to him, he immediately lifts me in his arms and pushes the shower door wide open to carry us inside until I'm pressed flat against the shower wall by his strong body.

  Kissing me hard, Z moves one hand between my legs and touches me making me moan from his touch and from my own sensitivity. Arching into his kiss, I'm desperate for him. Pulling him closer with my ankles against his ass, he positions himself and enters me slowly as I writhe in his arms.

  "Hold on, Suzanne," he growls against my mouth as he moves. Lowering himself, almost bracing his thighs wider he suddenly takes me hard and deep as I cry out against the wall from the quick pleasure.

  Pulling Z back to my mouth, I kiss the holy shit out of him as he takes me hard. Fucking me, he never breaks the connection of our mouths, he never pulls away, and he never lets me forget its Z I'm with this way.

  Gasping in his embrace as he holds my ass tightly, I am fucked by my love, and it's so, so good. There are no demons or ghosts here. I’m not being hurt or tortured in our shower. I am simply being fucked by my beautiful husband and I love it.

  "Z…" I whine as the pressure builds inside me again.

  "Open. Your. Eyes," he grunts as his pace continues, punctuating each word with a thrust. "You know I need those gorgeous eyes of yours."

  Quickly opening my eyes, I'm struck with the beauty of his own. With water in his eye lashes they look impossibly long, highlighting the dark brown of his eyes watching me.

  "God, you're pretty," I grin as he laughs.

  "Pretty? I prefer manly," he grins thrusting a little deeper than before as I gasp his point made quite well. Nuzzling my neck, Z whispers, "Are you ready, Suzanne?" as his hand slides around my front to touch me.

  Gasping at his touch I cry 'always' before Z takes my lips hard once again. Kissing the hell out of me, Z pumps and thrusts into me making me wild in his arms gasping for breath until I pull away.

  Waiting with my eyes open as Z likes, my head turns back and forth against the tile wall as my chest pumps against his. Pulling his shoulders closer, I need to get inside him. The intensity of us like this always makes me try to climb inside him as much as he's inside me. Pulling and kissing and moaning, his legs are pumping faster while he works my body with his hand quickly.

  I'm almost there. I'm right there, I know it and he knows it. I think I have that hideous distorted face of the almost orgasm and my eyes constantly close until I open them for him.

  I'm right there.

  "Ah! Oh, shit!" I scream as the orgasm takes me over with him.

  Practically pushing Z away as the shudders wrack my body, Z holds me up until I hear and feel his own climax all around and inside me.

  Collapsing against my body, I hold Z tighter to me and kiss the side of his face that’s buried in my neck.

  "I can't move," he groans breathing heavily.

  "Me either. My hips are locked in place, and I don't think I can stand."

  Pulling away from me with a grin, Z kisses my lips and whispers, "Well then, I guess I better do all the work."

  Slowly unhooking my ankles from his back, my legs just touch the floor when I groan at my hip pain and numb legs. Holding onto Z, I laugh, "I think I'm getting too old for shower sex," before he looks at me with feigned disgust.

  "Suzanne, you're not getting too old. You've just been well loved," he adds with a kiss, and I know I am always well-loved with Z. Nodding, I grab the handheld for a little clean up rinse before handing it to him as I step out.

  "Suzanne?" Z asks again with so much emotion I feel it in my soul.

  "There's nothing, Z. And I will tell you if there is. I promise."

  Nodding, he smiles and accepts my words for what they are. I make promises to Z and I keep them, he knows that. I would never break a promise to Z by choice.

  Crawling into bed with my wet hair and body I wait for Z as sleep bears down on me. I'm exhausted and refreshed and alive and whole. I am well loved.

  Waking as Z climbs in and pulls me to his side and chest I mumble goodnight as he kisses my head.

  Inhaling his scent I sleep away anything wrong inside me to sleep with everything right around me.

  CHAPTER 3

  Grabbing the keys to Z's truck, I'm almost out the door when the phone rings. Looking quickly like I always do because of the residual creepers who always seem to find our phone number, I see its Z. Again.

  "How are you Mr. Zinfandel?" I grin into the phone. Z was extra cute to me this morning before he left for work.

  "Are you sure you're okay to get Kayla by yourself?" Z asks with his intense, concerned voice.

  "Of course. I know where the airport is Z," I barely hold in my huff. For the tenth time today Z has asked me this question, and the answer is always the same.

  "I know you do, but-"

  "Can I tell you something?" I suddenly interrupt him before he starts again.

  "Of course," Z breathes deeply like he's bracing himself.

  Breathing out my growing frustration, I just speak. Z wants me to always be open and honest with him, and I usually am, unless it’s about the really bad stuff. Most times though I still feel guilty or something close to guilt when I say anything negative to him about him or us.

  "Suzanne?" He waits not so patiently until I just spill.

  Practically whispering, I say the truth of my mental health right now. "Um... You're making me feel crazy, Z, with all the watching, and questioning, and constant waiting for something to happen." When there is only silence as he listens, I go for it. "I'm perfectly fine right now. I take my meds every day, and I'm very happy. I don't feel upset, or confused, or anything negative, but you're making me a little frustrated and crazy with all the watching all the time."

  "What else?" Z asks with a soft voice.

  "Um, Dr. Phillips and I have talked about it and he thinks maybe you need to see someone away from me, or even with me, or whatever you want because you seem way too tense and worried all the time. And your tense is the only thing stressing me out right now, Z. I promise."

  Whew. Okay. That's been sitting on my chest for weeks now and I could never work up the nerve to tell Z.

  Waiting for Z to respond, I feel my stomach turning tighter and tighter into knots. Not that Z is ever mean to me, or even hard to talk to, but I certainly don't want him to ever think I don't love or appreciate his constant concern and sweetness toward me, because I do. Sometimes it's just too much to handle all the time.

  "Thank you for talking to me," Z breathes into the phone
and I exhale immediately all my tension. "I don't mean to watch or question you all the time, but I find I still get nervous with you. So when things like Sheran happen, I think I’m going to lose you to your past or something. I love you, Suzanne, and I don't want you to ever go back to your bad place, that's all."

  "I know you don't. And you're amazing to me, Z. Like I always tell you, you are an absolute gift to me. But you have to relax a little, too. We have a wonderful relationship, and we've figured out so much between us, but I sometimes feel like you haven't let go of the past as hard as I've tried to, and I worry about you."

  "It's hard for me remembering everything from before," Z admits, and I would do anything right now to just hug him to me tightly.

  “I know it is,” I whisper his truth sadly. “That's why I think you need to see someone yourself. You’ve been such a huge part of everything that's happened to me for the last 3 1/2 years, and I think you may have your own issues over everything to deal with. Am I right?”

  Exhaling, Z whispers, "Yes..." and I want to cry for him.

  "Oh, Z… You can be upset and freaked out and nervous, or even just scared around me. You can even be sad if you’re sad. You can be, and it doesn't mean I'll freak out, and it doesn't mean you are anything less than what I need in my life. Shit, I want you to be less strong all the time, so I can help you for a change."

  "But then-"

  "Come on, Z. Think about it. You're not infallible or emotionless. You're amazing, and delicious, and sexy as hell, and sweet, and kind, and a million other things, but you're not supposed to be my caregiver. You're supposed to be my husband, and we're supposed to share this life equally. Even the bad stuff. But you never share with me. You only ever wait for me to have a drama so you can be there for me to fix it. But I want to be able to fix you too when you need it. I have to, otherwise I feel like this whole relationship we have is based solely on me and I don't want that. I want all of you. Remember, Z; the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful? I've tried so hard to give you all of that, but I know you hold back from me. And it actually stresses me out a little."

  Waiting for hours it seems, I start rocking in my heels as Z breathes into the phone. I'm going to be late to pick up Kayla, but Z and I need to have this talk whether the timing is right or not.

  "I don't mean to stress you out," Z finally admits and again all I want to do is crawl up his chest and hug him.

  "I know that, too. Obviously. But you need to chill a little."

  "Chill?" When I suddenly hear his smile-voice, I exhale my nervous tension and grin.

  "Yes, chill out. As in don't be all intense and strong all the time. Just chill."

  "I can chill," he says sexily as I smile back at the door I'm waiting to exit.

  "Okay, good. Let me see a chilled Zinfandel then," I laugh at the analogy. "This weekend. Through all this wedding nightmare we're about to endure, chill out and let loose a little. I seem to recall you used to be fun before we were married," I poke at him.

  "I was fun. But I'm married now," he says poking back at me.

  "Heaven forbid. What don't you try being fun with your wife? You might even like it."

  “Okay. Fine. I'll be fun with my wife, though from what I understand that goes against the very concept of marriage,” he teases again. “I'll give it a try though,” he laughs and I know he's okay with our talk.

  "Okay, good. I have to go though or I'll be late for Chicago Kayla."

  "Drive safe. Call me when you have her, okay?"

  "I will. I love you, Z. Will you think about what I said about therapy?"

  "Yes," he exhales again before hanging up.

  ➰➰➰➰➰

  I haven't seen Kayla in a month, though we've spoken almost every day, especially with crazy Kayla calling us way too frequently over the strangest, most asinine wedding crap neither Kayla or I could have ever dreamed existed for future brides.

  Cra-cra Kay, as Chicago Kayla calls New York Kayla is just mental over this wedding, and the effects of it are definitely showing. Chicago Kayla however always seems to calm her down with her blunt, don't give a shit answers to questions Cra Kay is totally stressed over.

  For me, Chicago Kayla is just my awesome, super sexy ex-coworker and friend who I love to death, no matter what shit we've gone through together in the past. And thankfully, my own crazy past has stayed in the past with Chicago Kayla since I left Chicago with Z.

  Waiting, I see Kayla descending the escalator with multiple carry-ons. Waving, she spots me immediately, and her smile makes me smile in return as I walk toward her.

  Dropping her bags she hugs me immediately. "You're lucky I look for solid chunks of black, otherwise I'd never find your short-ass among a crowd," she says pulling away as I burst out laughing.

  "It's always a pleasure being insulted by you, Kayla," I grin.

  "You look awesome, Suzanne. I love your hair this way," she says pulling the piece of long hair that covers my face behind my ear before I quickly toss my head back and forth to let it fall back in place across my face. Old habits die hard as Mack says, and covering the damaged side of my face will never die I’m fairly sure.

  "Do I need to tell you to stop hiding your face?" She asks seriously.

  "No, you don't. And I’ll never stop hiding that side of my face, so you need to drop it," I say just as seriously until she nods.

  Barking a quick laugh, she smiles and hugs me again. "You really are growing a set, Suzanne. Does Z like having a wife with some balls?"

  "Yup. He loves having a wife with balls, especially when she uses them against him. It's kind of a turn on, actually."

  "I can see that. Z's sexy as hell," she grins at my scowl. "Oh, come on. He's fucking edible. Anyway," she smirks again, "I could definitely imagine a little dual dominance role playing," she wiggles her eyebrows and after my immediate blush we both start laughing.

  "Can we please get your luggage? We redid your bedroom for you and I can't wait for you to see it."

  "You did?" Kayla asks excited.

  "Of course. After all your bitching about the boring colors last time you slept over, we made it very Chicago Kayla for you," I admit walking toward the luggage carousel. "Tell me that hot pink leopard print is your new luggage?" I grin knowing almost with certainty it has to be the ‘awesome’ luggage she told me she found on sale. Ugh.

  "Of course," she laughs grabbing a trolley for her hideous luggage.

  "So, how's Kayla?" Kayla asks as we settle into Z's SUV.

  "Crazy. Seriously, she's almost previous Suzanne crazy," I grin while pulling out of the parking lot. "She isn't enjoying this wedding at all, and Mack is desperate for it to be over. I think Mack just wants to skip the whole thing at this point, but he knows Mrs. Rinaldi would chop them off, so he's being as supportive as he can. But honestly, this wedding is making them both so unhappy it's awful to watch. You'll see," I admit shaking my head again.

  "They should've just continued living in sin," Kayla adds, and I have to agree.

  I would've lived in sin with Z forever, but he wanted to get married. I didn't care either way about marriage having known what my previous marriage was like and was to become for me.

  Thinking about that horrible wedding my mother threw and the endless bullshit fake friends, abusers, and even relatives who didn't know me or care about me at all for that matter feels like an entire lifetime ago. Another life, really.

  Marcus was just so awful doing what he did, knowing what he knew about my abuse, sometimes I can't help but feel such betrayal from him it makes his death seem almost just or something. I can't explain it, but I don't feel bad about his death, more just about the way he did it. Or maybe it's a combination of both.

  "Suzanne?"

  "What? Oh!" Shit. "Sorry," I mumble picking up the speed. I didn't notice I had dropped down to a crawl on the throughway while I thought of Marcus again and our wedding.

  "How have you-"

  "Before you ask, I'm fine. Honestly. Z
keeps waiting for some trigger but there aren't any. I've been really good with my own stuff, it's just Kayla I'm worried about. She's lost a lot of weight and she's so frazzled, I wish she had agreed to the wedding planner her mother wanted to use to take some of the stress off of her. Speaking of stressed out, I have to call Z," I smirk as I hit the phone icon on the steering wheel.

  "Hi love. Everything okay?" When I see Kayla lift her hand to her chest I look over and she's swooning for Christ's sake. Mouthing, 'It’s his voice that gets me', I shake my head at her. "Suzanne?"

  "I'm here. But you can't speak anymore. You've got another swooner drooling over your voice."

  "Really? Hello... Chicago Kayla. Are you swooning for me, darling?" He asks with his sexiest voice ever, and as I gasp, Kayla bursts out laughing.

  "Holy shit, Z! You just made me wet!" She yells to my shock as I almost veer off the road to hit her until thankfully Z jumps back in.

  "Wow. That was NOT my intention, Kayla. I see you are just as inappropriate as ever."

  "Only with you, Z."

  "Enough!" I scream as they both laugh. "Stop being a flirt Z, and ewwww Kayla. You’re so disgusting!" I yell again to more laughter.

  "I know, Suzanne. I'm just having a little fun at your expense," Kayla jumps in taking my hand for a squeeze. "Z's not even my type. He's way too manly and dominant for me. I like wimpy guys so I can dominate," she says as Z barks another quick laugh.

  "Whatever. Gross. All I'm thinking about is the friggin seat now and the washable leather," I fake gag as she laughs at me. "We'll be home in 45 minutes Z and I'll make some dinner for us."

  "Why don't we go out?" Z asks but I really don't want to.

  "Um, I'm a little tired. And tomorrow is the pre-wedding dinner and rehearsal, then Saturday is the day from hell, so I thought we could just chill," I add with inflection to remind him.

  "It's fine with me," Kayla pipes in. "But why don't we order in?"