Chapter 39
CHARLOTTE
Naked on top of my husband was my new favorite place to be. I leaned down, hands on his face and loving the slight sting of his stubble against my palms. “I could live here.”
“You already do,” he ground out, his eyes soft on mine but his cock hard and throbbing as it slid between my folds. He sucked in a quick breath when I ground against him, his eyes threatening to roll back into his head. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about staying in Texas?”
My whole body was flushed and wanting, but I managed a smile I hoped was teasing and wicked. “I meant right here. Where I am right now. Not anything to do with Texas.”
A low, long groan vibrated through him. “Fuck, yeah. Let’s do that. No leaving this bed. Ever.”
I lowered my lips to his, sliding my tongue into his mouth and pressing my chest flush against his. “Deal.”
Obviously, I knew it wouldn’t happen. Come daybreak, he’d be gone, but it was nice to pretend. Trent’s hands fell to my hips and he lifted them, reaching between us to line himself up. I shivered with anticipation, my core reduced to molten liquid as he slowly pushed himself into me.
I bit back a moan, my eyes sliding shut as I kissed him harder, deeper, murmuring between the fiery kisses to try and keep my promise to him. Already halfway out of my mind, it was a lot easier to be honest and say anything I wanted right now than it’d seemed just a few minutes ago.
“God, you feel so good.”
He let out a shuddering breath. “If you think I feel good, you have no idea how good you feel, baby.”
“I do actually.” I smiled against his mouth. “I did recently spend a week sleeping right across the hall without being able to touch you.”
“You…” He trailed off, that one word strained as his hips thrust hard up into mine. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah. You didn’t?”
A harsh, muffled laugh came out of him. He flexed his fingers around my hips and pulled me down on him. Hard. “Of course, I fucking did. What did you think I was doing in here all night, every night?”
More wet heat rushed out of me and he let out an animalistic, slightly unhinged sound before he looked up at me again. “I’ll tell you what. It’s a dang good thing I didn’t know. I would’ve broken down your door like wild creature in heat.”
“I think it’s called a rut when it’s male,” I teased.
“Semantics.” He wrapped his big hand around the back of my neck and kissed me fiercely, starting to move in earnest underneath me now.
Every slow, powerful rock of his hips made his shaft slide against all the best places inside, his pelvis brushing against my clit and a guiding hard bruising my hip.
Being with him was so consuming that I didn’t even know how long we stayed like that, but then he flipped us over and moved above me with a tenderness I hadn’t expected.
Between kisses, he watched me with this look on his face that made me squirm under him, his expression focused, reverent, and almost disbelieving, like he couldn’t quite understand why I was touching him back or why I wanted him as openly as I did.
Despite how good he felt, it was the way he was looking at me that finally did me in, the first flickers of pleasure making me clench around him. He let out a low groan, pressing his forehead to mine just as the orgasm dragged me under.
It erupted like wildfire, spreading through me with a dazzling light behind my eyes and turning me into a writhing, screaming mess. I wasn’t even on the other side of it yet when I vaguely registered his breathing hitch and he whispered my name like it meant something.
In the aftermath, he kissed me again, slower this time, all heat and gratitude, like he was committing the moment to memory.
When he finally pulled me into his chest, the warmth of his body wrapped around me like a blanket.
A living, breathing blanket that smelled like heaven, and sex, and sin all wrapped together.
“Are you okay?” he murmured against my hair.
I nodded, pressing my face into him before I glanced up to find his eyes already on me. “You can stop asking me that every time after. I’m always going to be better than okay when it’s you.”
He let out a breath that seemed almost relieved, his arm sliding under my neck and his other hand resting at my waist, his fingers drawing lazy circles on my hip. “Come here.”
“You say that like I’m not already wrapped around you like ivy.” I felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips, somehow shifting even closer.
His breath warmed the top of my head. “Yeah, but I would sleep on top of you if I could.”
“We could try it sometime.”
A soft chuckle rumbled through his chest. “I’d squish you and I desperately don’t want that.”
I pressed my face into him, smiling as I burrowed into his side. For a long time after that, neither of us spoke, but his hand kept moving over my hip, up my spine, and down my arm. Eventually, his touches slowed and his breathing deepened.
He was drifting, the weight of him settling more fully into me. Exhaustion tugged at my limbs too and I let my fingers trail along the side of his ribs, feeling every breath he took. His chest rose and fell under my cheek, steady and strong, a rhythm I could fall asleep to for the rest of my life.
I closed my eyes and rested my palm over my husband’s heart, and even half asleep, he covered my hand with his own.
I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, what Chicago would demand from us, how messy things would get, or who might try to tear us apart, but wrapped in Trent’s arms, I felt at peace.
Nothing could get to us. Not anymore. No matter what it took, we would fight for each other and it was that thought that finally relaxed me enough to let sleep pull me under.
I woke up to quiet, the bed still warm where Trent had been, but he was gone, only a faint indentation left in the mattress and the soft, lingering smell of him on the bedding.
It was no surprise, though. The guy was always up before even the sun, hard at work before most of us had even started thinking about waking up.
Smiling as I stared at the place where his head had been, I stretched slowly, every muscle deliciously loose and still tingling with a sleepy afterglow. Last night, just like every other time with him, felt unreal in the best possible way.
After just lying there like a lovestruck puppy for a little while, I decided to go see if he was around. He was always up but not always out.
I slipped out of bed and pulled on my robe, bare feet quiet in the hall on the way to his study. By the time I reached the first floor, the sun had finally fought its way through the clouds, casting soft, pale gold over the tiled floors.
Trent’s office door was cracked open and I pushed it wider, leaning against the frame for a moment, just looking at him. He was in his chair with his long legs kicked out, his boots crossed at the ankles.
His hat was tossed on top of a stack of documents, his hair already mussed.
The morning sun spilled across his shoulders, highlighting the broad, easy set of them.
I padded inside and slid my arms over his shoulders from behind, but he didn’t startle, just leaning back into my touch like he’d been waiting for it, his hands slipping up to cover mine.
“Morning,” I murmured, brushing my cheek against his temple.
He tilted his head slightly, giving me the softest smile as those blues met mine. “Morning, wife.”
I melted a little. I still couldn’t help it, but I’d realized somewhere between here and our bedroom that part of the original reason why he’d agreed to be my fake boyfriend had been because of that party.
A lot had happened since then, many things changing for me, but Trent’s main reasoning had been to be taken more seriously. I’d been so wrapped up in the news he’d received from Jameson that I’d forgotten to even ask him about how the day had gone for him.
“Was the party a success?” I asked, moving around him and perching on the edge of his desk, my legs brushing his knee. “Did we win? Are people taking you seriously now?”
He let out a quiet, satisfied laugh. “A few of my dad’s friends are interested in the breeding program now, which means he has to admit I was right. Honestly? That was all I wanted.”
I grinned. “Victory looks good on you.”
“It’ll look better when the checks clear.”
I nudged his knee with mine. “So, what are we doing now? Besides basking in the glory of your triumph?”
“Farm chores,” he said simply.
My face fell. “Ugh.”
He smirked, smug and entirely too amused, but it faded fast, replaced by something a lot more serious. He reached out and tugged gently at my wrist until I slid off the desk and onto his lap. “Before I get to that though, we need to talk about today.”
My stomach flipped. “Okay. What about it?”
“I’m leaving for Chicago tonight,” he said, his voice steady but tone his edged with something much sharper. “I need to go get this marriage hashed out and finalized. Hopefully, this will be the last trip there for a while.”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach, sinking all the way to my toes. Chicago. Gregory. My father. Reality.
Shit. I slid my fingers around his neck, pressing my palms to his skin and swallowing hard. “I don’t want to go back.”
I didn’t want to step into that world again. All I wanted was this house, this man, and this life we were building.
Trent leaned into my touch, his eyelids fluttering shut for a moment. “You don’t have to come, baby. I can handle it. My lawyer is going too, so we’ll be fine if they try to get nasty about it.”
“Sure, but I can’t hide forever,” I said quietly. “Can I come? I know I don’t have to, and thank you for trying to protect me, but I want to be there.”
He nodded immediately. “Yeah. Of course you can come. I want you there. But…”
“But?” I prompted when he trailed off and didn’t pick back up again. “But what?”
His hands settled on my hips in a firm grip, those eyes hot and serious on mine. “If you come with me, you stay with me. No sneaking off and no letting Stella set you up on any more blind dates.”
Heat flushed through me, embarrassment mixing with the tiniest spark of relief that he even cared. “That was one time.”
“Once was enough,” he countered, lifting an eyebrow with the tiniest hint of amusement flickering in his gaze, but then he sighed and blinked the light humor away.
“I want you by my side, Charlotte. The whole time. No disappearing acts. No martyring yourself. No letting your father get you alone and twist this into something it’s not. ”
“Okay,” I whispered. “I won’t.”
He cupped my jaw with one hand, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “Good. It’s you and me, yeah?”
I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his and smiling. “You’re so dramatic sometimes.”
“Not nearly as dramatic as you,” he fired back, grinning now.
I kissed him before he could say anything else, a slow, lingering press of mouths that curled the corner of his lips into a wider smile.
“Chicago doesn’t stand a chance against us,” I murmured between kisses.
“Honey,” he murmured, pulling me closer and letting out a quiet laugh. “I think that’s what I’m afraid of.”