The Diary Read online

  It began the moment we stepped into our bedroom. After closing the door, he put his hand on mine as I switched on the light and made me turn it off again. It wasn’t necessary to see in the room as silvery moonlight mixed with Paris night lights poured in through the large windows, providing enough illumination for us to make out even smaller details. But the dimmed lighting changed the atmosphere in the room, caused it to seem more mysterious, more romantic, and certainly sexier.

  Letting go of my hand, Jason surprised me by grabbing me under my knees and back and carried me to the big bed that was covered in smoky pale purple satin sheets. He gently put me down in the middle of the bed.

  I began to giggle at the seriousness with which he did all this. When he didn’t also start laughing like I had expected him to do but simply ignored my chuckles, I stopped. Instead, I just watched him as he removed my strappy high heels and studied one of my bare feet, following its shape with his long, elegant fingers. Turning the foot so that the bottom was facing him, he placed a light kiss in the arch. His lips burned against my naked skin, sending a slight electric current through me. Lowering my foot so I could see his face again, he met my gaze.

  “You have the most perfect feet, Lexi,” he whispered.

  I had never thought much about my feet, but the way Jason was touching and looking at them right then, like they were a piece of precious art, made me believe that they were indeed particularly beautiful. He traced the outside of my foot with feathery kisses while massaging its arch with his thumb in small circles. He sucked lightly on each of my toes. I shivered with pleasure each time a toe disappeared into his mouth, pleasure that traveled like tiny sparks of electricity over my body and made my stomach clench slightly.

  His eyes moved to my ankle. “And your ankles.” He picked up my other foot and inhaled as he took both of them in. “Could they be any sexier? So delicately shaped.”

  Lowering a leg back onto the bed, his hand circled the ankle of the other as if measuring the slenderness of it. His fingers reached all the way around. He pressed a light kiss onto the ankle bone, then kissed his way up my calf, stopping when he reached the back of my knee, this most sensitive of places.

  He sat down beside me and kissed the thin skin there. I felt his tongue move in circles, his hot breath against my leg, and the fine hair on my arms went erect. My breathing picked up speed and I got more and more aroused.

  He lowered my leg to the bed and slowly moved my snug-fitting tube dress toward my hips.

  Staring at my bare thighs as if they had put a spell on him, he ran his hands over the skin there.

  “I love your legs,” he muttered, his gaze still fixed on them. “They’re such a lovely shape. And your skin. It’s so beautiful. So smooth…”

  He spread my legs and leaned in to trail the insides with light kisses. When he neared my erotic center, I couldn’t help but gasp. I knew what was coming next. It had to come next. But Jason only circled this area, then straightened so that he was sitting back up, gazing down at me with tenderness. He picked up one of my hands and kissed the palm while maintaining eye contact with me.

  I wanted to reach for him, feel how hard he must be under his dress pants, but something about the way he touched me, watched me, forbade me to do so.

  “And you have the prettiest hands too,” he murmured softly into my palm. “Pretty like the rest of you.”

  He continued moving his lips up the inside of my arm, pausing briefly in the bend. I gasped as I felt the burn of his hot mouth on me. I wondered if he would move on to my breasts next—hoped that he would—but instead he gently turned my head to the side so he could kiss me on the side of my neck, moving my long hair away to get better access. The way his mouth touched my neck—and especially the way his tongue circled the thin skin behind my ear—soon made me forget about anything else but what he was doing. I let him know how much I appreciated his actions by letting out a long, pleased moan.

  He found my eyes again and lay down on top of me, placing his elbows on either side of my head, maintaining eye contact all the while. I don’t know if it was the way he kept looking at me, making me feel how much he truly loved me, or if it was the way his body weighed down on mine that excited me most, but I was ready for him now. I wanted to feel him inside me. Craved to feel him inside me. Any moment now he would crash his mouth to mine, hungrily search the insides of it with his tongue.

  But instead of kissing me, he gave that special smile I’d only seen him use for me .

  “Imagine that I get to look into that beautiful face every night,” he whispered. “Who would’ve thought that I would ever get so lucky? A girl like you could’ve gotten anyone.”

  I was about to tell him that those were my lines, but the sincerity with which he’d said them, looked at me when he’d spoken them, made the words get stuck in my throat.

  This man truly believed what he had said and I decided that it was time to stop worrying once and for all. He leaned down and kissed me finally, but only lightly, teasingly, outlining my lips with the tip of his tongue. Instead of crushing his lips to mine next, he kissed the corners of my mouth so lightly I could barely feel it. Even so, his action managed to send renewed waves of hot excitement throughout my body and mind.

  “Oh, Jason, you’re driving me crazy,” I gasped, grasping his head and trying to pull his mouth back over mine. I needed to taste him.

  “Wait, I’m not done yet,” he murmured. “I promise that you’ll eventually get what you want… And it’ll be even better than usual.”

  He slid down my body and buried his face between my breasts. As he raised his head and pulled down the top of my dress, setting my chest free, he said, “You already know how much I love these beauties… The most perfect boobs in the whole world.” He smiled a little and something sparkled in his darkened gaze.

  Grabbing them from the underside, he squeezed them together and sucked on my nipples, causing them to pebble. I couldn’t help but moan it felt so good.

  “When I die, I want my face to be buried in your breasts,” he muttered, his breath hot against my skin.

  Slowly, he worked his way down my limbs, pulling the dress with him all the while. Soon his hot mouth was between my legs, just where I wanted him to be, but instead of removing my panties like he usually did, he simply spread my thighs apart and covered my most intimate part with kisses on top of the sheer material.

  I trembled with ecstasy. Surprisingly, what he was doing to me was even better than what he usually did with his tongue, just like he had promised.

  “Or I wouldn’t mind dying down here…” I could hear him say, his voice deep.

  Massaging the insides of my thighs, he placed a few more of those incredibly exciting kisses in my center, driving me crazy. But just as my toes began to curl and my stomach to clench and fill with an expanding, delicious heat, he pulled away.

  Sitting up, he pulled his cashmere sweater over his head and threw it aside. His ripped body looked particularly great in the moonlight in which the room bathed. I stared at him, wanting to imprint the beautiful picture my husband made into an indelible memory in my mind. Still holding my gaze, he unbuttoned his pants and his white boxer briefs soon became visible, bulging in the middle. It didn’t take long before both pants and boxers were off and on the floor. I bit my lip in expectation at the sight of how hard and big he was. The ends of his lips turned up in a little smile as he pulled off my dress all the way and tossed it next to his pants. Then he slid off my panties, not once breaking eye contact with me.

  As he slowly lowered himself on top of me, he said the words he knew I wanted to hear the most, and the ones I knew he’d hesitated to say the most, citing our youth as an excuse:

  “Let’s make a baby, Lexi.”

  Chapter 3

  I didn’t end up getting pregnant that night of course, having been on the pill for a few years by then. But knowing that Jason loved me so much that he was willing to do everything I could possibly want to make me hap
py was all I needed to hear for my insecurities to be squelched. Even though he himself might not be ready for a child yet, he’d find a way to be ready, he assured me.

  Didn’t I tell you that this man was the nicest, best man a girl could ever have wished for?

  A man like that didn’t end up an adulterer and a murderer. Life wasn’t that sick. Even so, the evidence told me otherwise.

  For as far back as I could remember, I had always dreamed of becoming a mother. A young mother. I was one of those people who were meant to become a parent. Every time I saw a baby, I was dying to hold it. It didn’t matter if it was screaming or acting generally obnoxious; that only made me want to take care of it more. When I got to hold a baby, I was loathe to let its mother or father have it back. I didn’t see the point in waiting to have kids if I married young, especially since I wanted to have at least three kids. But at the same time I wanted to have a career, which meant that I wouldn’t be a stay-at-home mom. With the right husband, I thought I could make it work.

  The only thing Jason and I had ever really disagreed upon was the timing for our future children. He wanted kids as much as I did, but he had always seen himself having them when he was in his thirties and more established in his career. Living in Manhattan wasn’t cheap and Jason wanted to provide us with the best of everything. I told him that since I was going to be working, too, we wouldn’t have to worry about there not being enough money. I was an accountant and the firm I had been hired at right out of college paid good money. With Jason’s salary as an advertising executive combined with my own, we wouldn’t exactly starve being young parents.

  We finally compromised by deciding to start a family in our late twenties.

  Needless to say, I was beyond ecstatic that Jason had changed his mind.

  But getting pregnant didn’t come to me as easily as it should have for someone as young and healthy as I was. After a while we began to worry that something must be wrong with either or both of us because by now, after a year of trying, I should definitely be pregnant having only just turned twenty-five. We went to a fertility clinic to have us both checked out. There, we found out that Jason was fine, but that I, to my horror, was “reproductively challenged.”

  When the doctor told me this piece of unwelcome information, I struggled not to fall apart in front of him in his office where I sat in a comfy chair. In order to maintain my composure, I kept telling myself that it wasn’t the end of the world; many women were reproductively challenged and still managed to get pregnant. The doctor also kept telling me this. All it meant was that it would be a little harder for me.

  It turned out that it would be not a little but a lot harder for me. As in it took us another four years for me to finally get pregnant and then to also keep the child.

  So the day I found out that I was pregnant again, I was cautiously happy. After all, the first two times the pregnancy kit had indicated a positive result, I ended up having a miscarriage.

  Still, I couldn’t help but smile wide as I noted the clearly defined plus sign on the pregnancy stick. There they were, the blue crossed lines, big and clear, impossible to miss.

  I put the stick aside and looked for my cell so I could call Jason, who had yet to come home from the office. I didn’t want to wait; I had to tell him about it right away. He hadn’t married an infertile woman; having gotten pregnant three times in the last twelve months spoke to that. I had just had a few bad years most likely related to stress at work.

  I soon found my cell and speed-dialed my husband.

  He picked up after the third ring. “Hey babe. I’m only a few blocks away.”

  “Hurry. I have something I want to show you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I could tell that he was smiling. “Wait. Don’t tell me. I think I know already. You’re wearing the sexy underwear I got for you last week and a pair of your stiletto pumps? If that’s the case, I’m running now…” His voice had turned seductive.

  Jason loved it when I wore different types of lingerie and shoes or boots with spiky heels and I loved wearing them for him. It kept our sex life hot and fresh. But at the moment, having sex was the last thing on my mind.

  “No, sorry, that’s not it. But if you behave, I might put it on later tonight,” I quickly added in a teasing tone. Then I took a deep breath and delivered the big news. “I hope finding out that it looks like you’ll become a father is as exciting to hear.”

  Jason sucked in a breath. “Really? You’re pregnant so soon again?”

  “Yep. I’m obviously not as reproductively challenged as they’re thinking.”

  “That’s so great, babe! No, you’re a super woman. My super woman… So I guess I shouldn’t bother picking up a bottle of wine for dinner then?”

  “Ha! No, you guessed right. I’m not doing anything that could potentially hurt this little one ’cause this time we’re having it. I’m gonna make sure we do. Besides, third time’s the charm, right?”

  “That’s true, but even if it’s not, that’s okay too, Lexi,” Jason said in a voice that was much too serious for the state of mind I was currently in.

  “No, it’s not,” I replied with determination. “I’m going to have this child. I’m thinking of taking some time off work to make sure I don’t get stressed like last time. I’m sure that was why I lost both of the other ones.”

  “Sure, do anything you think will make it easier. We’ll be fine on my salary. How many weeks do you think you’re pregnant? Any idea?”

  “Well, it’s almost six weeks since my last period, so let’s hope at least a month already. But I’ll make an appointment with the doctor tomorrow and then we’ll know for sure.”

  A few days later I saw my doctor and he told me that I was in fact five weeks pregnant already. He also told me that he didn’t think it was a good idea for me to take off work completely but instead go down to part-time; this way I wouldn’t spend my days with nothing else to do but worry about making sure I didn’t have another miscarriage. Doing so would likely be as stressful as me working too many hours like the last times. I agreed with him and stayed at work but cut my workload in half. I was lucky to work for an employer-friendly company as well as have a great boss who knew how important this was to me, so she was able to be fully supportive of my decision.

  Third time did indeed seem to be the charm for me and Jason. In addition to working less, I attributed the continued success of this pregnancy to all the prenatal yoga, massages, and acupuncture I did throughout it. In the fifth month we found out that we were about to be the proud parents of a healthy little boy.

  When we went to bed that evening, Jason and I were so excited that we couldn’t sleep and spent the longest time fighting about what to name our son.

  “We can’t call him Jeremiah!” I said and slapped his arm. “It makes me think of bullfrogs.”

  Jason laughed and arched a brow. “Bullfrogs? By the time our son is ten no one will remember that old song.”

  “That might be true, but it’s just way too old school. And too long. Je-re-mi-ah.” I emphasized each syllable.“It doesn’t exactly roll off your tongue easily…” I grimaced. “And it brings back memories from Sunday school. I’d rather not think about those.”

  “Old school is the new cool, babe. Tons of kids are called Jeremiah these days.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, that’s yet another reason we can’t call him that. Liam is a much better choice,” I maintained emphatically.

  “Uh-uh,” Jason replied, shaking his head with determination and crossing his arms. “I don’t want to have to think of Liam Neeson every time I call for my son. You know I’m not a fan of that guy.”

  I sighed. “You’re ridiculous. He’s an awesome actor. You’re just jealous.”

  Jason looked at me like I was crazy. “Jealous? Of what? The dude is not only a bad actor, but he’s butt ugly too.”

  “He’s not. He’s super hot. But I was referring to his size.” I grinned at him mischievously and then my eyes found
the front of his green boxers.

  He gave me an amused smirk. “Yeah, right I am. You if anyone should know that I have nothing to be insecure about in that area.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine, I guess you got me there.” I inhaled and scrunched up my face. “Well, if not Liam, how about we go with Matthew? Matthew is a great name.”

  “What? I thought you didn’t want him to be called any biblical names. Isn’t Matthew as bad as Jeremiah?”

  “No, because if we call him Jeremiah, we’ll have to call him just that. Or Jerry, which is a terrible name too.” I paused as something hit me. “I just thought of another reason we can’t call him Jeremiah.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It makes me think of Jeremiah Wright. Not one of my favorites.”

  “Who’s Jeremiah Wright?”

  I dropped my jaw to show how much he had surprised me with that statement. “It’s Obama’s old pastor who said all those controversial things during the election. I can’t believe you don’t remember him. You were all on fire about how crazy you thought he was.”

  Recognition lit up Jason’s features and he made an ugly face. “Oh, him. Yeah, I remember now. Okay, so Jeremiah’s definitely out. But I don’t know about Matthew. Sounds kinda wimpy.”

  “Wimpy? Are you kidding me? And with Matthew we could call him Matt. Women love guys who are called Matt or Matthew. Matt Damon, Matthew McConaughey. Matt Dillon. I want our son to have a good future with the ladies. Or boys if he’s gay. Don’t you?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I do. Matt… Hmm…” Gazing into the distance, he said the name as though to see how it felt saying it. “Matt.” His eyes found me again and he smiled. “I think I might like Matt, actually.”

  I smiled back. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  That night we decided to name our first-born son Matthew John George. George would be after my father and John after Jason’s.