21
EVERLY
I STARE AT MY WEDDING ring sparkling in the light. Even though it’s early, I’m curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee and my laptop. I haven’t made an effort to start working yet, though. My thoughts are too chaotic to focus.
Last night, I couldn’t resist the magnetic draw to Cash any longer, and after our mind-blowing sex in the bedroom, we had sex in the shower and again on the bathroom counter. He treated me like a queen, showering me with words of affection and praise.
Something has changed between us, our connection going beyond physical attraction. It’s an emotional bond, a tether holding us together, pulling me back to memories with the boy I grew up with—cruising around Aspen Grove listening to Linkin Park, catching Saturday morning matinees, and him showing up with a cheeseburger and milkshake when I needed a pick-me-up after my heart was broken.
When I woke up wrapped around Cash like a koala bear, his arms securely banded around my waist, reality set in. This arrangement was never supposed to be more than a marriage on paper, but despite my attempts to remain detached, my husband is finding his way into my heart. What scares me the most is how vulnerable that makes me feel.
I close my eyes, and think back to our wedding night.
We exit the chapel hand in hand, and I can’t hide the grin on my face. He shamelessly looks me up and down, letting out a low whistle. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
“I don’t think you’ve complimented me nearly enough tonight,” I tease, batting my eyelashes.
He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since I stepped out of the dressing room at the boutique in The Shoppes at Premiere. In the span of an hour, he’s called me some variation of stunning, beautiful, and gorgeous countless times. It’s clear he knows how to make a woman feel good about herself.
He gently tugs my hand, drawing me against his chest. “In that case, I’ll have to remind you every five minutes that you’re fucking sexy in that dress.”
The white satin contours to my curves, with a classic A-line silhouette and an off-the-shoulder neckline.
I wanted to wear a white dress for the ceremony but was worried when we got to the boutique only ten minutes before closing. When the sales associate found out Cash’s family owns the hotel, she was more than happy to accommodate us. After browsing the store, I finally found my dress at the back of a rack of sample wedding dresses that just so happened to be in my size.
A shiver runs down my spine as Cash brushes a strand of hair from my face. His gaze lingers on my mouth, and I think of the kiss we just shared at the altar. The way he took charge, flicking his tongue along the seam of my lips, coaxing me to let him in, and the warmth of his mouth… It was incredible.
“You’re perfect, Ev,” he whispers. “And you’re mine.”
His declaration sends a flurry of butterflies through my stomach, making me wish he’d kiss me again.
“Ready for your close-up, lovebirds?” We both lift our heads to find a photographer observing us with an amused expression. He taps his foot impatiently, waiting for us to get a move on.
“Yeah, we’re coming,” Cash says.
He was adamant about getting the complete wedding package, including having photos taken during the ceremony and outside afterward.
Cash leads me to the pink Cadillac parked in front of the chapel. The top is down, making for the perfect photo opp. He opens the door to the back seat, extending his hand to help me inside before circling around and hopping in next to me.
He slings his arm across the back seat, placing his other hand possessively on my hip. I lean against his chest, propping my feet up on the window ledge. My body naturally eases into him as I place the bouquet of daffodils we purchased at the chapel in my lap.
“Look at me and smile,” the photographer says.
He remains stoic as he snaps several photos, undoubtedly used to the light-night stream of tipsy couples tying the knot.
When he pauses to look down at his camera, I tilt my head back to glance at Cash. He’s dressed in a black suit he packed for his work trip. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, drawing attention to the bracelet on his wrist. My chest tightens knowing he kept it all these years because it meant something to him, implying that I matter to him too.
Warning bells sound in my head, reminding me why getting married was a bad idea. We hadn’t seen each other in fourteen years, and I swore off serious relationships after breaking up with Landon. Yet, none of that matters as the alcohol’s effects still linger, keeping me on cloud nine.
When Cash catches me admiring him, he offers me a warm smile.
“I can’t believe we really got married.” I giggle.
“I can’t believe you’re my wife,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against my neck.
Being this close to Cash gives me a sense of peace and comfort I haven’t felt in a long while, and for the moment, all my worries disappear, content in the warmth of his embrace.
I’m pulled from the memory when I hear movement down the hall.
“Everly, where are you?” Cash calls out, bursting into the living room seconds later. He’s shirtless, with his hair disheveled and his black joggers hanging low on his hips.
I raise a brow at his ruffled state. “Everything alright?”
“You weren’t in bed when I woke up; I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
My chest tightens with affection. “I couldn’t sleep,” I admit, setting my cup of coffee on the barstool that I brought over from the kitchen.
“I must not have given you enough orgasms,” he teases.
I give him a crooked smile, unable to resist goading him. “You’ll definitely have to up your game next time.”
“You’re right. I look forward to making up for my less-than-stellar performance last night.” He gives me a cheeky grin.
We both know his performance last night was exceptional. There’s no denying I want there to be a next time, but that doesn’t mean I’m not conflicted.
The tequila shots played a part in my impulsive decision to marry Cash, overriding my usual judgment. When I found out about Stafford Holdings buying Townstead International, I thought I could compartmentalize my emotions. Yet, the more time I spend with Cash, the more he brings me the same peace and comfort he did in Vegas.
He strides across the room and crouches in front of me, using a finger to lift my chin so our eyes meet. “You seem lost in thought. Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”
“What makes you think something is wrong?”
He kisses my forehead. “Because I can see it in your expression.”
I take a deep breath, considering how to express what’s on my mind. “Our marriage was meant to be temporary.” I motion between us. “And now that the lines have been blurred, things feel much more confusing.”
“I like blurring the lines with you,” he murmurs.
When Cash caresses my cheek, I close my eyes and lean into his touch. He has a way of making me feel safe and secure when my thoughts are chaotic.
He has become my anchor, steadying me through turbulent waters—my shelter from the storm. Since the moment we agreed to stay married to keep the acquisition from falling apart, every decision he’s made has been with my best interest in mind.
I never witnessed this kind of adoration between my parents. Their relationship was centered around maintaining their social status rather than genuine affection, so it was no surprise when it fell apart. That doesn’t mean it hurt any less to watch, but my distorted view of romantic relationships has clouded my judgment, making me believe that what Landon and I had was genuine, when it was superficial at best. He never looked at me the way Cash does—like I’m the center of his universe.
“Last night was incredible,” Cash says. “As far as I’m concerned there is no timeline or expiration date. There’s only you and me, and I’d like to enjoy every moment we have together, however long it may be.”
I smile. “I want that too.”
More than anything.
“I have something that I think will lift your mood,” he says.
Before I can ask what it is, my phone pings. I look down to find a text from August.
August: Have fun playing hooky today.
Everly: ???
August: Ask your husband.
When I glance up at Cash, he’s watching me as he taps his fingers against his leg.
“Do you know anything about this?” I ask, holding my phone out for him to see.
“Yeah,” he confirms once he’s finished reading the message. “I told August you were taking the day off.”
When we got back to London, I gave August’s number to Cash in case of an emergency but failed to specify that plotting ways to convince me to skip work doesn’t qualify as an emergency. It’s not surprising since they are similar in their need for adventure and taking risks.
“Cash, it’s Tuesday. I can’t just skip out on work without giving notice.”
“Today is special.” His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“How so?”
“I have a surprise for you.”
A surprise?
He’s piqued my curiosity, but I haven’t taken a day off work in years. I’m sure my dad will have something to say if I don’t go into the office today, but then again, why should I care?
My phone pings again.
August: Don’t overthink it. You deserve a break. Liam the least I can do is push aside my inner turmoil for one day.
When we pull up outside a nondescript shop, Cash helps me out of the vehicle. There’s no name on the door, the lights are dimmed, and there’s a Closed sign in the window. Despite its inconspicuous appearance, I recognize it. We’re at Belgravia, a luxury shoe boutique that exclusively operates by appointment only.
Cash strolls inside like he owns the place, and I follow, curious as to what he has up his sleeve.
We enter a room with plain white walls, a reception desk, and a pair of upholstered pastel blue chairs in the corner.
A woman with chestnut-colored hair, dressed in a tailored black suit, emerges from behind the reception desk to welcome us. She strides over, her designer heels with distinctive red soles clicking against the floor.
“Mr. Stafford, I presume?” She reaches out to shake Cash’s hand.
“Please call me Cash, and this is my wife, Everly.” He gestures toward me.
“It’s a pleasure, my dear. My name is April,” she says with a warm smile, then turns back to Cash. “I’ve arranged everything to your specifications.”
She leads us through a door into a luxurious showroom with cream-colored walls and gold crown molding. In the far corner, there’s an ornate full-length mirror positioned next to a dressing platform, which is ironic considering there are no clothes here. Instead, three walls are lined with shelving and track lighting to showcase an extensive collection of shoes.
There’s a cream wingback sofa in the middle of the space, surrounded by several stacks of shoe boxes.
“Everything looks good, thank you,” Cash says, nodding in approval. “We’ll let you know if we need anything.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be out front if you do,” April says. With that, she turns and leaves, closing the door behind her.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, moving closer to one of the shoe-filled walls.
As I assess the extensive selection, it becomes clear that there’s not a single pair of shoes in this room that doesn't retail for at least ￡ 2,000.
“I know how much you love high heels, and I wanted you to have your pick of the most sought-after shoes in the world. I’ve been told that many of these styles haven’t been released to the public yet.”
My eyes widen in shock. “You did this for me?”
This is beyond my wildest dreams. Although I have a fondness for luxury shoes, most of my collection are budget brands. Occasionally, I’ll splurge if I find a pair that I can’t live without, but never shoes on this grand of a scale.
I can’t believe Cash arranged a private appointment at the city’s most elite shoe boutique, all because of my fondness for high heels.
I swear I hear him say, “I would do anything for you,” but he speaks so quietly that I can’t be sure. “We have the place to ourselves for the rest of the morning, so why not indulge me and try on some of these beautiful shoes?” He motions around us.
“What are all these boxes?” I gesture toward the stacks next to the couch, estimating at least fifty pairs.
“I called ahead and had April pull every high heel they had in your size,” he says.
“Cash you didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to,” he interrupts me, placing his hand over mine. “Now, why don’t you take a seat so we can get started?” He guides me to the sofa.
I do as he asks, noting that the couch is surprisingly comfortable.
Cash picks up the nearest box and opens it to reveal a pair of gorgeous black open-toed high heels with a diamond-encrusted ankle band. They’re part of an upcoming collection for a high-end designer known for red soles, set to be released next month.
I trace my finger over the material of one shoe like it’s a priceless artifact.
“I take it you like these?” Cash asks with an amused smile.
“They’re stunning.”
“You should try them on.” He kneels in front of me, placing the box on the ground.
“I can put them on myself.”
“You could, but it’ll be more fun if I help, don’t you think?”
“I do like you on your knees,” I say with a smirk playing on my lips.
He removes the red pumps that I’m wearing and lifts my foot in his hand, slowly brushing his hand down my leg, causing a shiver to snake down my spine. My breath hitches when he places a tender kiss on my calf. His heated gaze never leaves mine as he slides the black heel onto my foot and fastens the buckle in place. His hand lingers as he traces the band around my ankle.
He repeats the process for my other foot with equal precision, and I bite down on my lip as he teases me with his touches.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he rasps as he looks up at me. “And you’re my wife.”
“Yes, I am,” I say, flashing my ring. “And you’re my husband.”
I finally understand why he loves calling me wifey so much. There’s a heady thrill in claiming someone out loud, knowing they belong to you, for better or worse, even if it’s only temporary.
“You’re right, and as your husband, my most important duty is to bring you unmatched pleasure.”
“Is that so?” My pulse races. “In that case, I’d like a demonstration, please.”
“Who am I to tell my wife no?”
He presses his lips to my calf, slowly trailing upward as he peppers kisses along my leg. When he gets to my knee, he pushes my dress aside, moving up my thigh inch by agonizing inch. My breath hitches when he leans forward to press his nose against my panties, inhaling deeply.
My cheeks flush when he tugs down the waistband of my underwear. I lift my hips so he can slide them off and watch as he tucks them into his pant pocket for safekeeping. I can’t believe I just let him take my underwear off in the middle of a store, but I can’t seem to bring myself to stop him.
“God, you’re perfect, Ev,” he groans.
My mouth falls open as he traces my seam in gentle strokes. He lifts my leg over his shoulder, the move giving him an unobstructed view of my pussy.
I gasp when he plunges two fingers inside me, pushing them in and out at a steady pace. His eyes remain fixed on mine as he watches my reaction to his touch. I tighten my grip, digging my nails into the fabric of the couch as he massages my clit with his thumb in languid circles, my body coiling tighter with each thrust of his fingers inside me.
“Does it turn you on knowing that someone could walk through that door at any moment?” he whispers.
I nod as the sound of my arousal fills the room.
He asked for us not to be disturbed, but it doesn’t stop me from liking the idea of someone overhearing us like this. My husband kneeling before me, his hand under my dress as he fucks me with his hand.
My head lolls back against the sofa when he adds a third finger. He keeps teasing me, pulling out whenever I’m close to climaxing. I’m teetering on the edge, desperate to lose all control, as he draws out my impending orgasm, toying with my mind.
“Cash, I need to come,” I moan. My body is strung tight with tension.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You,” I murmur.
“I couldn’t hear you, Ev. Who do you belong to?” he groans as he pushes his fingers back into me.
“You,” I cry out, not giving a damn who hears my declaration.
“That’s right. You’re all mine,” he rasps before he flicks my clit repeatedly, giving me the added friction I’ve been begging for.
I detonate like a bomb, my body shuddering from the intensity of my release.
Once my orgasm subsides, Cash brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean, one by one. I watch with rapt attention as he tastes my essence on his tongue.
“Delicious,” he says, flashing me a wicked grin.
When he’s finished, he leans forward so our mouths are only inches apart. He closes the distance, nipping at my lips before plunging his tongue into my mouth. Our moans fill the air as he explores my mouth with fervor.
When he pulls back, I’m left dizzy. He straightens to his full height and holds out his hand for me, smoothing out my dress and hair when I get up.
“I think you have a possessive streak,” I say playfully.
“Only with you,” he replies before he gives me another kiss that steals my breath.
After he releases me, he heads over to the closest wall and pushes a silver button in the corner.
Seconds later, April opens the door. “Is everything alright?” she asks, glancing around the room. If she overheard anything that just happened, she keeps it to herself.
“Yes, great.” Cash flashes me a mischievous smile. “We’ll take everything you pulled. I’d like it all delivered to my apartment.”
My mouth gapes open, and when I look over, April blinks in disbelief, as if doubting she heard him right, until Cash hands her his black card.
“Yes, of course,” she exclaims, accepting the card. “I’ll start ringing these up right away.” She rushes out, leaving the door open behind her.
“Cash, what are you doing?” I whisper. “The heels I have on are more than enough. There’s no way you’re buying me all these shoes. It’ll cost a fortune.”
“Clearly you don’t know how to be spoiled. Don’t worry, I’ll show you how it’s done, wifey.” He winks.
His statement causes a frenzy of butterflies to swarm in my stomach as another one of my defenses crumbles.