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“I love you too.”
“I’m so glad.” I give her one last gift. “You’re the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”
She’s never moved so fucking fast.She’s out of my neck in a heartbeat, looking at me with a mixture of delight and surprise. “It’s your birthday?”
The first one in many years that I’ve acknowledged. “It is.”
“Today?”
“Yes.” So now she will ask how old I am, and I will tell her the truth.
“How old are you?” she says, her lips stretching, the corners quirking. It’s the best sight, because she fucking knows, and she doesn’t give a shit.
“I’m thirty-eight.” Thirty-fucking-eight.
“Happy birthday,” she says, so thrilled, her beam so precious.
My grin hurts my face, and my eyes finally release the building tears of true fucking happiness.
“Don’t mind us.” Sam’s voice penetrates our moment, and Ava starts laughing in my neck. I brush her hair out of my face and drop my head to the side, where our table full of guests all look on.
“I forgot we had company,” I say, getting to my feet, pulling Ava up and helping her straighten her dress out. She looks at me, and I just catch a flush of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks as her mother ambushes her from the side, throwing her arms around her. Ah, fuck. Ava’s shoulders shoot up, and she doesn’t conceal her hiss very well. Not that Elizabeth notices. I take my life into my own hands and muscle my way between them.
“Excuse me, I’m not finished with her yet,” I say, placing my palm over Ava’s nape—not her back—and leading her into the penthouse. I hear Elizabeth’s indignation before I turn and see it.
And so it begins.
As soon as I have Ava out of sight, I turn her, walk her to the nearest wall, and gently ease her up against it. My kiss is anything but gentle, though. I slam our mouths together, hungry for her, and she’s right there with me. “We’re getting married at The Manor.”
She moans, grappling at my shoulders.
“In two weeks,” I add.
“Okay,” she says, biting at my lips.
Whoa.
I tear our mouths apart and look at her. “We’re getting married at The Manor in two weeks,” I repeat, leaving no room for protests when I remind her that she agreed to this in the throes of passion.
She smiles. “And I said,okay.”
I smile. I smile so fucking hard.
And then haul her back onto my mouth, kissing her to death, and her hand squeezes me past my trousers, massages, strokes my raging hard-on. I’d love nothing more than to take her upstairs. Can’t do that.
Fucking hell.
“Take me upstairs,” she mumbles around my tongue, rolling herself onto me.
I groan, mentally crying my eyes out.Reallycan’t do that, I tell myself over and over. I have to stop this before I ruin everything I’ve painstakingly built with her parents.Respect. So I rip myself away, panting, and shake my head.
“Please,” she begs.
“No.” I wipe across her mouth, dragging her lip. “Go reapply your lipstick,” I order, turning her by her shoulders. “We’ll have celebration sex later.”
“Sleepy celebration sex?” she asks, looking unimpressed.
“There will be nothing sleepy about it. Go.”
