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She squirms as I lift her shirt over her head, and she won’t look me in the eye as a flash of red stains her cheeks.
“Don’t tell me you’re self-conscious?” I ask, watching her trying to hide her gorgeous stomach with her hands. She blushes crimson.
“I’m not,” she insists, but her voice is too high to sound convincing.
She glances at the open blinds of the window, letting in the cool afternoon London daylight.
The light is different compared to Snowdrop Valley. The absence of actual sunshine casts everything in a blue tinge.
It bathes Emily in a cool light, making her look fresh and youthful on my bed.
Her giggles are endless as I wrestle her out of her clothes, then she lay like a goddess, in her naked form. All mine for the taking.
Small lines snake around her shapely hips.
I trace one before I scoop her up in my hands and give her a squeeze. “You are exquisite,” I say. “As your husband, I forbid you from feeling bad about your gorgeous body.”
Emily hisses with a grin. “You forbid me? That’s not really something I can control, is it? Besides, I’m no model.”
I shake my head and press my finger to her buttery lips. “You are not to say anything bad about yourself. I won’t hear it.”
She pouts at me, her pretty brows pinched.
I caress her cheek. “In any case, I will make it my mission to worship every part of your body until you begin to believe that you are the perfect embodiment of art.”
Emily snorts. “You’ll be working on me for a long time, then.”
I pick her up and plant her on my lap with a happy grin. “Well, we’ve only got a few hours. So, I suggest we stop talking and get started.”
Two hours later, I am standing in the shower, resting my palm against the tile wall and willing myself not to faint.
My lips are numb. The rest of me is tingling. And I cannot stop grinning.
I don’t care what happens next. Being with Emily is the antidote to any poisonous situation I face myself in. I can still taste her, and now I’m addicted.
The look on my father’s face when I introduced her as my wife was priceless. It was the first time he looked at me like I was not something he can control.
The door opens with a squeal, and Emily walks in. “Room for one more?” she asks, holding a towel to keep her modest.
I step aside, letting Emily join me, and we settle into a comfortable silence, washing each other between tender kisses.
My heart swells as her curls fall out, and she grins up at me with water droplets clinging to her body like diamonds.
“You’re adorable,” I murmur, before caressing her cheeks with my thumbs. “I’m going to cherish you forever, you know that, right?”
Emily shuts her eyes with a sigh. “I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve this, but I will take it.” She looks at me again with a laugh. “But I can’t help this is all too good to be true. You haven’t got any skeletons in your closet, do you?”
I force a smile, then pull her in for a hug.
You have no idea,I think to myself, as I plant a kiss on the top of her head and hoping that nothing will ruin what we have.
EMILY
The car ride to the Willoughby Manor is a mix of silence and soft whispers.
Wrapped in William's warm embrace earlier, I felt invincible, cherished. Now, as the lush countryside of the outskirts of London passes by our window, a sense of trepidation settles in my stomach.
The Manor itself is like something out of an old English novel, its grandeur both imposing and impressive. Its ancient stones hold stories of generations, and its sprawling gardens are meticulously maintained, a testament to the family's wealth and status.
