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“I think I’ll let you,” I say. It’s the first time I’ve felt like his need to go over the top in buying me things doesn’t come with much of a price tag. What’s a pair of ripped panties every now and then?
His mouth cruises my skin, leaving sparks everywhere it travels. The man is a magician. And his magic makes me long for him to fill me.
I dig my fingers into his hair and lock our gazes. “I want you.”
“You’ve got me.” He settles over me, holding his body weight with one arm while he settles between my thighs.
There are no words for the sweetness of his caresses or the way he rocks into me.
There are only our synchronized breaths and the shared emotion in our locked gazes as we build to a languid crescendo. And when I shatter so sweetly around him he grips my hips and groans into my neck as he comes too.
Afterward, he rolls onto his side. He pulls my back to his chest and wraps me up in his arms. His legs curve to fit against mine.
“I can’t help but feel like we were always meant to be this perfect and beautiful thing,” I say, and then hold my breath. It must sound cheesy. “It’s like we were made two halves of one whole and no matter what happened in our last life or this life we were meant to find our way back to each other.”
“I will always find you, baby.” He cradles me a little tighter. “You’re my home now.”
I hope he’s mine too.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rogue
Islammypalmagainst the steering wheel as I drive through traffic with a couple of paps on the Jeep’s tail. Yanking the wheel to the left, I thread my vehicle through the small gap between a Tesla and an Audi. I’m supposed to meet Marty in five minutes, but I can’t risk going to the meeting spot we agreed to until I lose these media fucks. There’s nothing they’d like more than the chance to conjecture that I’m a cheating asshole.
Okay, maybe that’s not the only scenario they would jump to, but it’s the one I’m most worried about when it comes to Ivy. Especially since I can’t tell her why I’m really meeting Marty.
I slam my foot on the brake before I park the Jeep up the ass of a Range Rover. What the hell is it with traffic this morning? A motorcycle comes out of nowhere as I take a corner too fast and cuts off the car behind me. Thank you to the rider; I now have a real chance at losing my tails. A few more minutes and a couple of turns later and I’ve lost them. Only a handful of blocks from where I’m meeting Marty too.
A few minutes later I park at the curb and hot foot my way to an old bookstore while pulling the brim of my cap down low over my shades. The collar of my jacket hides the shape of my jaw when I flip it up. It’s real incognito spy type shit.
The store smells like dust and dead tree corpses. It’s dim and crammed from floor to ceiling with shelves filled with books and periodicals. Hell, there are even stacks of old newspapers on a table and chairs. I nod at the short, old man at the counter. His bushy white eyebrows nod back.
“Hey,” Marty says when I find her way in the back.
“What century have we time traveled to, Marty McFly?” I crack a tight smile as I stand shoulder to shoulder with her in front of a set of shelves. “Aren’t actual newspapers obsolete in this day and age?”
“Funny,” she says with a flick to her black braids that sends them over her shoulder. “You’re late.”
“Paps were a bitch. I had to lose them. Can’t risk them seeing us together.”
“Oh, you’re married now.” She laughs. “How’s that going?”
“I can’t believe you’re laughing at me. I should be offended.” Probably would be if it were anyone else, but she’s known me so long that her reaction is the most normal part of this conversation.
It wasn’t that long ago that the idea of commitment and marriage would have sent me running for the hills. Now, I’m dreaming about a perfect wedding like some little girl with a scrap book and a princess dress. This is me now? This is who I’ve become? Hell yeah it is.
So much so that when Ivy asked me to help her put on the dress I stepped up to the challenge without a single thought to telling her the truth.
“Sorry.” She turns her attention to a particular book—an old hardback with a brown cover and gold lettering.
I clench my jaw and lift my gaze to the ceiling. “I was going to tell Ivy last night… tell her that we aren’t married…” That I made it up to give me some wiggle room in the hospital and then the media ran with it and she didn’t remember me and it seemed like the best idea was to keep the lie rolling, at least in the short term. “But then she found her wedding dress in Narnia.”
“The girl has a wedding dress now?” Marty’s eyes widen.
“It was from an expo,” I grind out. There’s no way I’ll tell Marty that in my panic to make sure Nicole didn’t get to Ivy I had a fraudulent marriage certificate made up. “She decided she had to try it on, and I just… got caught up for a minute.”
Ivy asked me to imagine our day together, and, well, I justified that it wasn’t a lie the way we were telling it as if we were in the moment. I dove right the hell into that fairytale scenario.
