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“Layla,” I murmur, “what’s wrong?”
I step closer, drawn by her pain, needing to be there for her when she needs it the most. Even if, in the long run, it only hurts me more.
“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” I beg.
Finally, she turns, her eyes red and glassy. “It’s silly. I know I did this. I ended it and told you to leave. I want this . . . but . . .”
“But?” I prompt, hope blooming in my chest even though I know it’s stupid. I spent days trying to figure out how to fix this before realizing there was no fixing it. There was nothing I could do. She made her mind up, and she deserves to find and choose her own life and happiness.
Even if it’s without me.
“Layla, isn’t this what you wanted?” I ask when she doesn’t respond.
“I thought it was,” she whispers, meeting my eyes and swallowing. “But seeing the papers makes it all so real. I was so angry with you for lying to me, so mad at myself for believing all your excuses and not seeing the truth, but with this time apart, all I could do was think. I went back and forth about this. About us. You lied to me, and I hate that you did. You’re not the man I thought you were . . . but then again, is anyone ever truly that person another makes them out to be in their head? Everything you did still stands. You still sacrificed everything for us and did everything for me even before I could remember you.” Shaking her head, she reaches for the papers before stopping. “I asked myself if I could ever forgive you and give us another chance, a fresh start like you said. But there is so much history between us, I didn’t know how. When it came down to it, all that really mattered was how I felt. Could I let you go? Could I end this before I really gave us a shot?”
“Layla,” I whisper, begging her with my eyes to say what I think she’s going to, even as that dark part of me calls me a fool.
“I . . . I don’t know, Alaric. I want to. I know that, but what if nothing changes? What if we are just too wrong for each other? I don’t like what you do for a job, but I understand why you do it. It doesn’t make you a different man than the one who stood by my side the day Zoey went into surgery, or the man who reads her bedtime stories over and over just because she demands it. Nor does it make you any less of the man who would passionately kiss me and hold me so tight as he offered me the world . . .”
“Layla, what do you want?” I urge when she just trails off.
“I . . . I want you,” she finally says after a lifetime. She holds my gaze as I stand frozen in disbelief, wondering if I heard her right. “Whatever that entails. I fell in love with you, Alaric. I love you. I do. I’m not accepting the lies you told me, but I think . . . I think maybe we could start again. I think we could be something truly amazing. That is, if you still want me? If you still want me to be your wife.”
I just stare, unable to speak as she offers me everything I ever truly wanted but thought was lost.
“Alaric, I want to be married to you. I want to know everything, and I . . . I love you. Do you . . . Do you think . . .” I stop her, hating the worry in her eyes at my silence and the questions she should never have felt the need to ask. Covering the distance between us, I grip her throat and tilt her head back until she meets my eyes.
“I’ve wanted you since the day I met you. I will always want you, now and forever. There is nothing I want more in this world than to be your husband again.”
“If that’s true, I would like us to give it another go. But no lies this time, no matter how gruesome or uncomfortable they may make me. I can’t live a life based on a lie,” she begs, her eyes widening as she leans into me so sweetly. Her softness and warmth chase away the cold I’ve felt since she cast me aside, since she walked away from me.
“No lies,” I promise. “You have me entirely, heart, body, and soul, Layla. I was ready to walk away, to give you up to make you happy, but I don’t think I ever truly could. I’m drawn to you like a moth to a flame. I’m not a good man, baby girl, but you make me want to be.”
“It’s true that you’re a killer, that you might be all sorts of bad . . . but you’re my type of bad, and if this time apart has shown me anything, it’s that I can’t live without you,” she murmurs, her voice so soft that it fixes my broken heart, and when she rises up on her toes and presses her lips to mine . . . ?
I am whole again.
“I love you,” she whispers as she pulls away.
“I love you so fucking much,” I snarl, dragging her closer and kissing her so hard that when I pull away, she’s panting. I vow to myself to tell her how much I love her every moment of every day so she never doubts it. She groans, those beautiful breasts heaving with the desire—the same desire I see flooding those emerald orbs of hers when they blink open. “Now let me show you just how much, wife.”
I don’t have the patience to carry her upstairs. I need her right this second, need her to come across my tongue and then around my cock. I need to sink deep inside of her and stain every inch of her skin with my marks and cum until she is irrevocably mine.
Forever.
I hoist her up and drop her onto the counter, sweeping the folder off so its contents tumble to the floor, forgotten and unneeded.
I’m home.
She falls to her back, her legs hanging over the edge. Her green eyes glow with arousal and happiness as I lean down and blanket her body with mine. I slide my hands up her silken thighs to her hips, finding no panties.
“Fuck, is this for me, baby girl? You’re goddamn naked under here.”
“I hoped you’d have your wicked way with me.” She grins.
I kiss her softly, tangling my tongue with hers before pulling back. “Wicked way? Love, when I’m done with you, you’ll never forget who you belong to again. You’ll be screaming my name for the neighbors to hear and begging me for more until you can’t take it.”
“Promise, promises,” she purrs, arching her chest to draw my attention to her pebbled nipples pushing against the soft material of the dress.
