Page 135 of Fake it for Keeps

EPILOGUE

HALLIE

Colt and I stood in the doorway, hand in hand, staring at what his crew had accomplished while the reception had been going on. Colt and I had taken another very cold walk on the beach under the moonlight, and when we returned, things looked normal. Like there hadn’t been a wedding. The glass structures were still in place, along with the tables and lights, but everything else had been cleaned up.

They’d left the strings of lights along the porch and the candles in the windows. The touches that made everything look magical.

And inside? Inside was even more incredible.

“Oh my god,” I breathed.

The living room had been completely transformed. Where there had been my dad’s old couch and worn furniture, there was now a four-poster king bed draped in white linens and surrounded by more of those twinkling lights. The fireplace was lit, casting everything in a warm, romantic glow. Champagne chilled in an ice bucket at the foot of the bed, along with a bowl of strawberries that were definitely flown in from another hemisphere.

“Colt,” I turned to him, tears already forming. “This is amazing.”

“I wanted you to have the honeymoon suite you deserved,” he said, pulling me close. “Right here. In your favorite place.”

“Our favorite place,” I corrected. “It’s ours now.”

“Ours,” he agreed, and kissed me softly.

We stepped inside, and he closed the door behind us. Suddenly, the reality of it all hit me.

We were married. Actually, legally, permanently married.

And we were alone. With a bed. And champagne. And nowhere to be for the next two days. Total privacy. No responsibilities.

“Mrs. Jesson,” Colt said, his voice dropping to that low register that made my knees weak. “What do you want to do first?”

I looked at the bed, then at him, then back at the bed.

“I think you know.”

His smile was pure wickedness. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

He scooped me up in his arms, making me squeal, and carried me to the bed. He laid me down gently on the soft linens, then stood back to look at me.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

“Just memorizing this moment.” His eyes traveled over me, warm and loving. “My wife. In our house. On our wedding night.”

I held up a hand. “Hold that thought.”

“What?”

“Pour us some champagne,” I said, sliding off the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

His eyebrows rose. “Where are you going?”

“You’ll see.” I kissed him quickly before heading for the stairs. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” he called after me.

I climbed the stairs as quickly as I could in my wedding dress, my heart pounding with anticipation. In the master bedroom, I’d stashed a bag earlier—one that contained the lingerie I’d picked out specifically for tonight.

My hands shook slightly as I unzipped my dress and let it pool at my feet. The fabric was so beautiful, so perfect, but right now I wanted it off. I wanted to be in something that would make my husband’s jaw drop and his cock pop.

I pulled out the white lace set, a delicate bra with intricate patterns and matching panties that left very little to the imagination. The material was soft and luxurious against my skin. I’d also bought white thigh-high stockings with lace tops and a sheer robe that tied at the waist.