Chapter thirty-six
Rylee
I want him.
“H ey, baby, we’re here.”
Baby? Here?
My eyes flutter open, and Luc’s handsome face slowly comes into focus.
“Hi,” I mumble with a sleepy smile, still feeling lightheaded from all the alcohol.
“Hi,” he replies, his smile soft and far too perfect.
“Where are we?”
“Barcelona.”
Barcelona?
I blink again, finally realizing I’m lying against his chest—warm, solid, and so comfortable I could melt into him. That sweet, earthy scent of his wraps around me, and without thinking, I take a little sniff. His fingers thread lazily through my hair, and a small sigh escapes me before I can stop it. My eyes flutter closed again.
“You fell asleep during the drive to the airport, and I didn’t want to wake you,” he says casually, like this isn’t the most embarrassing thing ever.
A quick glance around confirms I’m on a private jet. “So, you what? Carried me in here?” I narrow my eyes at him.
His smirk deepens. “Yes, you were snoring and everything.”
“I do not snore,” I shoot back, sitting up and pulling away from him.
His grin widens as he watches me, utterly unbothered. “You even drooled a little.”
“That’s not true.” I rub my lip just in case. His gaze follows the movement with amusement.
“Ready?” he asks, handing me my coat.
“Yeah.” I stand, smoothing down the short, white dress I’d changed into earlier for the reception. After I pull on the coat, he gestures for me to go first.
I step out of the plane and onto the tarmac. The cold December air bites my cheeks. A sleek black car waits just ahead, its headlights cutting through the darkness. Luc’s hand settles lightly at the small of my back as he guides me toward it.
The drive is quiet, save for the soft Christmas music from the car speakers. Outside, it’s dark, the world around us still. The only light comes from passing street lamps, and the occasional Christmas lights and decorations.
Less than an hour later, we turn onto a private driveway, and my jaw drops.
White Christmas lights wrap around the trees lining the path, glowing like a thousand tiny stars.
The car rounds a corner, and in the center of the courtyard is the tallest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen, sparkling with ornaments and wrapped in ribbons of light. Behind it, a villa comes into view, golden lights light up the windows.
“Wow,” I whisper, pressing my fingers to the glass as I take it all in.
Luc glances over at me, his smile faint, like he’s watching me unwrap the best present under the tree.
“Welcome to Barcelona.”
He steps out first, moving to my side and offering his hand to help me out of the car. I take it, and he closes the door behind me before wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me against his chest. His warmth seeps into me, settling somewhere deep inside.
“It’s cold,” I say, getting a little closer.
“Not as cold as New York or Paris.” He leads me toward the entrance.
“Oh my God!” My eyes are wide as I take in the view in front of me. In the center of the foyer is another Christmas tree with hundreds of Christmas lights. Gold and silver ornaments hang from its branches, while soft champagne-colored ribbons weave through it like silk. Green garlands with golden bows and twinkling fairy lights wrap around the railing of the staircase behind it. Everything smells faintly of pine and cinnamon.
“Wow! Is this your home?” I turn to face him, still in awe.
“One of them.”
“How many do you own?”
“A few,” he says, like it’s nothing.
“Define ‘a few.’”
“Are we talking about residential properties?”
“I don’t know—all of them.”
He shrugs. “A few condos. Six residential homes, give or take.”
“I keep forgetting how ridiculously rich you are because you don’t act like it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re supposed to be cold and grumpy. Brooding billionaire vibes, just like in the movies.”
And then he laughs.
That laugh .
It wraps around me like velvet and makes my heart stutter. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “See? That’s what I mean. Your laugh is too beautiful.”
Shit. Did I just say that out loud?
Luc stops at the top of the stairs, turning to face me. “Does my wife think my laugh is beautiful?”
My chest aches at the sound of my wife on his lips. I look away quickly, brushing past him. “Umm…” My cheeks heat. “I was just making an observation.”
Before I make it to the door, he catches up to me, pinning me gently against the wall with one hand braced near my head. The space between us is too small, and his presence too big.
“It’s okay,” he teases. “You can admire your husband’s laugh.” His gaze dips to my face, studying me like I’m something rare. “If we’re making observations,” he continues, brushing lazy circles against my cheek with his thumb, “there are a few I’d like to make, too.”
I shiver, but this time it’s not from the cold.
“Your eyes,” he murmurs, holding my gaze. “They’re gorgeous.”
“Luc…” I’m not even sure what I’m asking for.
“And your face.” His thumb brushes along my jawline, sending a wave of warmth through me. “Mesmerizing.”
I can barely breathe when it grazes my lower lip, lingering there like a dare.
“And your lips…” His eyes flickering between my mouth and my own wide gaze. “They’re intoxicating.”
My heart pounds as flashes of him kissing me in the church and the ballroom fill my mind. Those were for show…weren’t they? But they didn’t feel like it. I want him to kiss me again so badly it aches.
Luc’s eyes linger on my lips, his breathing as uneven as mine. Then he pulls back, breaking the moment. I don’t know whether I’m disappointed or relieved.
“There’s so much more I could say,” he says softly, his voice edged with restraint. “But I might not be able to stop what happens next.”
Luc turns and opens the door to a suite, letting me take in the space. There’s a stone fireplace across from a plush couch and a smaller Christmas tree decorated in silver and white. Across the room, double doors lead to what I assume is the bedroom.
“Take a shower. I’ll have them bring something up for us to eat.” He gestures toward the room.
“Okay,” I whisper, still trying to steady my breath as I make my way toward the room.
After my shower, I stand in front of the bed, staring at the collection of lingerie Mia insisted I pack for the honeymoon.
Honeymoon . The word feels strange, like it belongs to someone else’s life. This the night where couples are supposed to do all the wedding night things. So, why not? I can regret it tomorrow. Luc might not love me, but the way he looks at me—like he’s starving—tells me he wants me. He said it himself: You can deny everything you want, but you can’t deny the chemistry between us.
I want him.
I put on the white lingerie set Mia said was perfect. The lace bra is delicate, hugging my skin with soft floral details. The thong barely exists, and the garter belt cinches me in with a fine lace accent. I finish it with a sheer, silk, white robe that doesn’t hide much of anything.
I brush my hair and smooth on some night cream before catching my reflection in the mirror. No makeup, but my skin glows. My heart races as I pull in a breath before exhaling slowly.
Sliding the door open, I step into the suite. Luc is on the couch, his long legs sprawled out lazily, his attention already fixed on me. The moment our eyes meet, the air shifts.
He looks freshly showered, dressed in loose white pajama pants and a fitted tank top that does nothing to hide the lean muscles beneath it. The soft light casts shadows along his jawline, making him look effortlessly perfect.
His gaze drops, starting at my legs. Heat prickles across my skin as his eyes trace upward slowly, like he’s memorizing me. My pulse stutters, my breath caught somewhere in my throat. It’s like I’m standing under a thousand tiny pinpricks of rain, each one sharper than the last.
He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t move. He just stares.