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Suddenly, he’s beaming. An expression I don’t think I’ve ever truly seen on him, it’s pure and honest and so unlike the Connor I know that I can’t stop staring in awe.
“Why are you smiling like that,” I say with a laugh.
He looks at me with the same adoration as before and I don’t know if I can survive it.
“The same Lenix who’s now my lawfully wedded wife. What a pretty little thought,” he says with a smirk that could leave me in cinders. Then he pulls me into a heated kiss and I melt into him, forgetting about the what if’s, the maybes and the speculations because there’s only one thing I know to be real.
And it’sus.
Epilogue
Three weeks later
Leaningoverthebathroomcounter, I peer into the mirror while I apply one last coat of red lipstick and smack my lips together.
The positive side of having shorn hair is that there’s no such thing as too many accessories. My earrings are big, bold and totally me, and the matching gold bracelet and necklace aren’t subtle either. My black floor-length dress ties everything together perfectly.
From the mirror, I watch Connor strut into the ensuite, dressed in a tuxedo and my heart skips a beat. Damn, he looks good. Almost passing for a gentleman.
Though, not when he’s staring at me like that he doesn’t.
It’s Connor’s birthday, he turns thirty-five today, and also the night of the event.
The memory of him walking into Sunny and I’s office looking to hire us feels like lifetimes ago, especially when his hands slide over my ass, then wrap around to my waist.
“You look dazzling, my darling,” he says before kissing my naked shoulder.
I smile and wink at him, making a final inspection in the mirror before turning around and wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Thank you, Mr. Maxwell.”
He groans in approval before pressing his hips into mine and peppering kisses across my neck. His mustache tickles the skin near my ear and I giggle, pushing him lightly on the chest.
“We should go. We can’t be late,” I say.
“Says who,” he mumbles into my skin, his hands igniting a heat I know I’ll have a hard time putting out anytime soon.
“Says your wife,” I answer with a slightly scolding tone.
His head pops up, his hands still gripping my hips. “If you don’t want me to bend you over this counter and fuck you ‘til you can’t speak, you’ll avoid saying that word in that tone,” he says with all the arrogance and raw power Connor Maxwell possesses.
And it works.
I swallow hard, refusing to admit how hot the image he just painted made me, and give him a sultry—veering on blasé—look from my own personal arsenal.
“I’ll keep that in mind, husband,” I say with a wink and saunter out of the room.
If only we had a bit more time, I’d take him up on it.
Connor opens my car door, his arm resting on the top of the roof, leaning into the passenger seat, holding out his hand for me to take. For a second, his engulfing presence and his perfect smile are the only thing I see, everything else fading away.
“Ready, my darling?”
I smile and nod, placing my hand in his, then stepping out of the car. There’s a nervous tickle in my throat as we walk up the stairs into the Noxport Yacht Club as if this is the first time I’m being introduced as the dutiful wife to this powerful man. But it’s not. People already know us as husband and wife. To the outside, nothing has changed.
What they don’t know is—
This time it’s real.
