Echoes of Time Read online

  “Because I’m not a nun.”

  At that, Étienne grunts. “I know that better than anyone,” he mutters under his breath. “What do you suggest?”

  Instead of answering, I lean down and seal my lips over his. Étienne is eager. One hand curls around the back of my neck to hold me in place. I grind myself against him repeatedly until I’m positive he’s delirious with want.

  Pushing away from him, I take off my lingerie. It’s virtually useless at this point. Étienne kicks off his jeans and boxers, watching me with hunger. Deviously, I grin and place my weight on one knee so I can straddle Étienne in the opposite direction.

  With his dick cradled between the apex of my thighs, posture straight and ass slightly arched, and Étienne’s gaze leaving a blazing trail across my back, my body thrums in anticipation. I look over my shoulder at Étienne the same time my fingers wrap around his dick. My touch alternates from whisper soft to firm and fast.

  “Serene,” Étienne warns, his voice tight.

  The veins in his neck are pronounced as he watches me. He lifts his head from the pillows, trying to get a better look at my actions. The only person who gets a good look at anything is me, and it’s at the line steadily running between his abs.

  My thumb brushes across his tip, feeling pre-cum before I slide down to the root. Beneath me, Étienne’s body shakes.

  I’m prolonging this on purpose. Of course, we’ve kissed and slept in the same bed, but I’ve missed being intimate with him so much. I love how every part of us aligns so perfectly, and when our passion for one another takes over, the problems we face become overshadowed.

  We both needed this.

  When I’m sure Étienne can’t take much more, I rise to my knees and tease his dick against my pussy. Étienne tries to take control by surging his hips upward, but at the last second, I move out of the way.

  “My God, Serene,” he groans.

  With blood coursing through my veins, I feel myself open up to him. I wiggle my hips to take his dick even deeper. Panting, I settle my palms on my thighs, digging my fingernails into my skin. I sit up until only the very tip of him remains in me and then drop back down languidly.

  There’s no sound from Étienne other than a strangled groan. Does he think this is it? A few strokes and groans, and then we climax?

  Tilting my head back until my hair grazes my lower back, I smile. This is the fun part. The very beginning.

  At first, Étienne sits up, his chest flush against my back. His large hands are clumsy, and a bit unsure, stroking my outer thighs and then drawing up to my waist. They settle for a second before his hands start the process again. I let him do what he wants because even though this is unfamiliar territory for him, he grows more confident by the second. His hands encircle my waist, not stopping, and in search of one thing. When he cups my breasts, he weighs them in his hands. My tempo remains easy and in control. The second he plucks at my nipples, I moan and sag forward. I can feel his shallow breaths against my back, causing my hair to flutter in the air. Slowly, his hands drift down my body.

  In this position, he’s at an utter loss and no longer in control, and he knows it. My knees sink into the mattress every time I rise. At first, my movements are careful. Slow. Deliberate. I take him in, inch by inch, and tease Étienne along the way, of course. Already, I can feel myself pulsating around him. It feels so good I momentarily lose my bearings, close my eyes, and whimper. For balance, my hands settle on his thighs. My upper body leans forward as I begin to shift restlessly. I’m trying to make this last as long as possible, but my body’s become a live wire and is hyper-aware of every part of Étienne. Of the heat radiating from him. Of the fine sheen of sweat coating my body.

  I can feel his eyes on every inch of me. His fingers dig into my flesh as he tries to control the rhythm and hold me in place. My rhythm increases until it’s keeping up with the rapid pounding of my heart. An increase of heat gathers in me until my blood boils, and I can barely think straight.

  “Turn over, turn over,” Étienne growls.

  There’s no chance for me to say a word before he flips me onto my back. I bounce on the mattress with a breathless laugh. His body covers mine, and his lips steal my laughter as he slides into me. My eyes close, and my legs wrap around him. I grip his face between both hands and hold on for dear life. His hands cup my ass as he pushes farther and goes deeper. Abruptly, I pull back and inhale a sharp breath. Étienne sucks on my neck. The soft, small pulls coupled with the feel of his body drive me wild.

  Vaguely, I hear one of Étienne’s hands slams against the lip of the headboard over the roaring in my head. The leverage this affords him works in my favor, and he’s surging into me. The heat building inside me needs an escape, or I’m going to go crazy. Wrapping myself around Étienne, I hang on for dear life. Seconds later, I fall apart and scream out Étienne’s name, proving him right. I can never be quiet.

  His body shakes as his muscles tense. Étienne’s on the very brink, but before he submits, he gives me a forceful kiss, revealing the strength of his desire and love. Breathing through my nose, I kiss him back with everything I have. The speed of his thrusts increases until the sound of our choppy breaths and the slight creak of the bed frame are all that can be heard.

  Étienne rips his mouth away from mine. “Je ne peux pas attendre. Je ne peux pas attendre.” He pushes himself as deep as possible. “Serene!” he chokes out.

  His other hand follows suit, slamming against the headboard. The bed jolts slightly from the impact, and the headboard breaks at the same time I fall apart. The sound of the wood splitting covers my hoarse cries. Once my heart rate slows down, I tilt my head back as best as possible and see the clean line Étienne created in the middle of the headboard.

  He raises his head from my chest and inspects the damage. His hair stands at attention, and a few wayward strands fall across his face. Coupled with his red cheeks, he appears almost … boyish even though I know he’s anything but that.

  “If my brother across the hall didn’t hear us before, he certainly did now,” I say.

  Étienne’s head falls back onto my chest, but not before I see his satisfied grin.

  “Have you settled on a wedding date, honey?”

  Keeping my head down, I blow into my coffee. “No.”

  Oh, God. She knows, she knows, she knows, my mind hisses. Mom stopped by this morning to say hi. But let’s be honest, this visit was a formality. She’s being nosy. She wanted to know how everything was faring since Étienne and I left the house. I gave her a small tour of the condo, hoping she wouldn’t notice the broken headboard that isn’t ours. That isn’t exactly something you can explain away.

  Oh, yeah. Pay that no mind. We were jumping on the bed, and it just broke?

  It’s ironic how I was giving Étienne such a hard time last night about having sex, and now I’m the paranoid one. I lift my gaze and find him looking at me from across the room. He smiles as though he knows what I’m thinking. I narrow my eyes.

  Little shit.

  Mom searches my face. “Is there any specific reason you haven’t set a date?”

  I take my time swallowing my piece of toast. This is the first time in a hot minute when I haven’t been nauseous. I’m savoring the moment, and I’m also trying to grasp a good excuse to give Mom about the wedding.

  I’m my mother’s only daughter. I’ve given her very few details about my wedding, so it’s understandable that she would come to me with questions. I was just hoping it would be at a later time.

  Dusting the bread crumbs from my fingertips, I finally look at her. “It’s a matter of logistics. We want his brother and sister to be here.”

  Mom nods. “That’s understandable. Do you have a specific location in mind?”

  I hesitate for a moment before I answer. “Charleston.”

  “In South Carolina?”

  “No, the one in Puerto Rico,” I say without missing a beat before I laugh. “Yes, in South Carolina.”
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br />   “Smartass,” Mom mutters with a smile. “Do his parents live in Charleston?”

  Furtively, I look in Étienne’s direction. He’s standing in front of the TV, intently watching the screen.

  Mom, sensing the somber tilt of the conversation, leans in.

  “They died along aside his brother Julian in a car accident when Étienne was twenty-one,” I confess.

  Mom’s eyes fill with sympathy. “That’s terrible,” she whispers.

  “He doesn’t talk about it often. It was a dark period in his life. I hope you keep that between you and me.”

  “Of course, of course,” Mom readily agrees. “I won’t say a word. Although it certainly explains why he’s so somber.”

  I nod. “It does. He became the patriarch of the family directly out of college and had to take over the family business. It was a lot, but he handled it better than most would.”

  Mom stares at me. “He sounds very responsible,” she says.

  If I could tell her Étienne’s life story, I would. But I’ve already done enough by giving her a brief snippet of his life. The rest he can do if he chooses to.

  “He is. But there’s more to him,” I reply.

  “I’d like to get to know him.”

  “I’d like that too.” Anxious to change the subject, I straighten my posture and drum my hands on the counter. “So, about all the wedding planning stuff. How about we go wedding dress shopping soon, hmm? How does that sound?” I offer. I give her a sincere smile because I mean every word. This isn’t an empty offer. I know I will marry Étienne. But I know there’s a distinct possibility Mom and I will never get the chance to plan my wedding. Even when I was engaged to Will, the furthest I ever got was purchasing stacks of bridal magazines and spending hours on Pinterest as though my life depended on it.

  Right away, Mom’s eyes fill with excitement. Visions of lace, mermaid skirts, veils, and bodices are dancing in her head. I bet she has every bridal store within a fifty-mile radius on speed dial.

  She makes a steeple with her fingers and taps her index fingers against her lips before she points them in my direction. “With your waist, I envision you wearing …” Mom’s words veer away as she casually glances past me. She does a double take. “Uh … Serene?” Mom motions behind me.

  Twisting around, I find Étienne still standing in front of the fifty-inch flat screen, repeatedly pressing the on and off button. His brows are tightly knitted as his attention moves back and forth between the remote and the screen.

  He was always enthralled with upgrades to technology in my time. But now that he has the ability to see those upgrades and hold the electronic devices in his hands, he’s bordering on obsession. I can’t help but smile.

  Étienne spends his life like most people do getting ready for a terrible storm: tense, alert and mentally preparing for any bad situation they might be put in. However, since he’s been in the present day, I’ve seen a different side. He’s still Étienne and still stoic and gruff, but the burdens that cling to him in his era aren’t with him right now. He’s free to do what he wants, when he wants. He won’t admit it, but I imagine it’s a bit liberating not to be working ten-plus hours a day, going over business acquisitions and investments, all the while keeping a sharp eye on the family shipping company. I know this can’t last forever, though. This carefree Étienne has an expiration date, and soon, both of us will have to face reality.

  How do we proceed with finding a way back to the past? Better yet, how can we time travel without endangering our baby? That’s the biggest question weighing on my mind. Every time I’ve gone between eras, something significant has changed. I don’t want my child to be a casualty of time. The very thought causes my hand to tightly grip the edge of the plate.

  “Is Étienne all right?” my mom anxiously whispers.

  Rolling my eyes, I wave her words away. “He’s fine, Mom.”

  “I think he’s going to break the TV.”

  “No, he won’t. Étienne is completely harmless. You’re talking about him as if the elevator doesn’t go to the top floor.”

  “Can you blame me? I would love to say this is the strangest thing I’ve caught him doing, but it’s not.”

  Against my better judgment, I find myself leaning in. I need to know what she saw. If damage control needs to be done, I’ll do it. “Define strange.”

  “The day after he arrived, I spotted him toying with your iPad for almost thirty minutes. He was fascinated by how weightless it was. I believe his exact words were, ‘Fascinating. Serene was right.’”

  At that, I smile.

  “Then he argued with Siri for nearly fifteen minutes. I finally told him she was a computer program and not a human in the tablet watching him. And then—”

  “Enough,” I cut in.

  Mom’s lips promptly close.

  “Yes, because you haven’t taken the time to get to know him. He’s gruff and has an … old-fashioned way of talking, but he’s amazing, and I love him. I mean, you just said you’d like to get to know him.”

  Mom holds my gaze for a few seconds

  For a second, I thought I was making headway with Mom in regard to Étienne, and then she catches him obsessing with the electronics, and now we’re back to square one.

  “Honey,” Mom starts out slowly, “I admire how fiercely you stand up for this man. And I understand how at the beginning of a new relationship everything seems so wonderful, but I get the sense this man is hiding something.”

  I remind myself to take a deep breath. Mother’s intuition? It’s a real thing. For a reason she’ll never be able to explain, the dots aren’t connecting with Étienne. I want to tell her that she’s not paranoid and that Étienne has many things he has to hide. The same way I had to mask nearly every facet of my life in his era.

  It’s in everyone’s best interest.

  Étienne abandons his post in front of the TV and walks over to Mom and me. After only a few days in the condo, Étienne’s already taken over this space as though it’s his own. His dominant presence coupled with his confidence fills the room. Étienne makes you believe he knows where everything and everyone is at all times. Mom gives him a strained smile. After our conversation, I’m more than certain it has to do with her reservations about him.

  Picking up on the tension, Étienne looks between Mom and me. “I hope I didn’t intrude on your conversation.”

  I give him a bright smile and wrap my arm around his waist. “Of course not.”

  “Serene and I were talking about wedding gowns and locations.”

  “I told her I thought Charleston was a good place,” I explain.

  Étienne arches a thick brow. “Did you now?”

  I shrug and give him a smirk. “Yep. But the location is all I’ve really given much thought to.”

  “Please do, sweetie.” Mom pushes her coffee mug forward and stands. “These are things you can’t let slip by. You push something to the side, and then time slips past you.”

  The last thing I need is for anyone to tell me about the consequences of time. I know all too well how it can sneak up on you. I nod in agreement and watch Mom gather her things.

  “Well, I should be going. Serene, let me know when’s a good day for you to try on gowns, all right?”

  “I will.”

  She leaves, closing the front door behind her. Sighing, I face Étienne, knowing I have to explain. “She wants to go with me to shop for a wedding gown. I couldn’t say no.”

  Étienne shrugs. “Very well. But do you truly want to get married in Charleston?”

  “Of course. It’s where we met. Makes sense that we’d wed there.”

  Étienne’s lips tilt into a crooked grin. “I agree.”

  “That should hold my mom at bay for a while, but depending on how long we’re here, she’ll start asking again.”

  Mentioning Charleston causes my thoughts to drift to Belgrave. I’m sure by now everyone’s been made aware that Étienne’s gone. It’s hard to say how mu
ch time has passed. It moves at a different pace in Étienne’s era. My gut chooses to believe Livingston has taken over running Belgrave and the companies, but the internet tells a different story.

  I know Nat would fight for the companies and the plantation too. She may be quiet, but she is a force to be reckoned with.

  I desperately wish they were here. Especially Nat. She would be over the moon about our engagement and would insist on helping me find the perfect gown. And I can only imagine the hugs she would give me when I told her I was pregnant. Hell, for all I know, she might be pregnant herself. Even though she didn’t marry her first love, I know she’s with a man who will make her so happy.

  Whatever is happening, I hope she and Livingston know we are trying to get back to them. Belgrave never stops calling …

  May 16, 1914

  Dear Nat,

  I’m terribly sorry to hear about Livingston. It is my sincerest hope they find whoever did this. I have such fond memories of Livingston. He always knew how to tell such lively stories and make you feel as though you had no cares in the world. Please keep me updated on his progress.

  Spring in New York is delightful, and a much-needed respite from the winter. Just days ago, I shopped with my mother for a new wardrobe and thought of you. You would’ve loved the selections!

  How is marriage, Mrs. Claiborne? My, that feels awfully strange to write. My sweet Nat is married. I hope someday to find myself married and as happy as you.

  All my love,

  Scarlett

  I close my eyes and fold the letter in half. Scarlett’s last question is harmless, yet I can’t help but feel unmasked.

  When Livingston woke up, we all believed everything would be all right, and he would soon remember, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve been married to Oliver going on four months, but the adjustment to being someone’s wife remains difficult. This is a role I’ve been practicing my entire life for and dreaming about since I was a little girl. When I envisioned any challenges in my marriage, it would be the adjustment of moving to Savannah, Georgia. And at times, it has, but in more ways than one, it reminds me of Charleston.