Chapter 61
Josephine
I cracked.
I splintered wide open in his arms, exposing all the pain, the sorrow, and the depth of my heartache to the man responsible for causing it.
I’m anxious and desperate to flee after such a vulnerable display. So when my limbs stop tingling and my pussy is done convulsing—which takes an embarrassingly long time, because damn, my future husband just fucked me senseless—I rise out of bed and dress quickly.
It’s late. Dark. His room is warm, his bed annoyingly comfortable.
Just like all the beds at home.
My stomach sinks at that word. Home. I’ve had to correct that line of thinking far too many times over the last few weeks.
Now? The mansion is going to be my home again.
It’s enough to give a girl whiplash.
With each second that ticks by, an urgency grows inside me. I’m eager to get out of this room, to get away from him. To find my boys, to give myself time to think, and to come to terms with what the hell I agreed to do.
I have no doubt Decker will take the prospect of marriage as seriously as he takes protecting the people he claims to care about by asserting control over their lives.
Even if this is a rushed, pragmatic means to an end, the man has used the phrase “my wife” no less than a dozen times in the last hour.
Stretching my arms overhead, I yawn, going for casual and unaffected.
“Shower?” he asks behind me. The sheets rustle as he hauls himself up to sitting.
“No. I’m headed down to the Den. Thanks for the fuck, hubby.”
His growl rumbles through the room. “Josephine, I swear to God…”
I don’t bother turning around. I have no interest in engaging in yet another battle. For tonight, at least, I’m done. At the moment, I’m desperate to get downstairs and crawl into Kylian’s arms so I can soak in the comfort he so easily offers.
Tonight has been far too emotionally exhausting and mentally taxing. Not that I’ll let Decker know just how much I’m reeling.
“See you tomorrow,” I call over my shoulder. “I’d say something cute like ‘I’ll be the one in white!’ but since I had no idea I’d be marrying a man I’m not even dating, I didn’t pack anything appropriate to wear on my trip to the altar.”
A wicked rush washes over me at the prospect of showing up dressed in the other guys’ clothes. It would serve him right.
“I’ll make sure you have a dress,” Decker calls as I stride into the hall.
I can’t help but roll my eyes. Then, once I’m out of his sight, I quicken my pace, wiping away fresh tears as I retreat to the Den.