Chapter 27
twenty-seven
WEST
My hands shake as I unknot the blindfold, throwing the black scrap of silk to the floor as she blinks up at me, her warm eyes adjusting to the light. Something in my chest contracts. She took everything I threw at her. Without a complaint, without trying to pull away.
She trusted me. Christ, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want her right now. To hold her tight. To deserve that trust.
My cock presses against the soft skin of her, heavy with need. I kiss her again, slow and demanding.
“Are you sore?” I ask her.
“Not sore enough.” Her eyes don’t leave mine as I push forward, the swollen head of me nudging against her slick entrance. She arches her back, urging me on, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to cry out as she envelops me. It’s like I’ve finally come home.
We’re staring at each other as I move my hips back, then surge forward, sinking into her until I can’t tell where she ends and I begin.
She trembles beneath me, her nails sinking into my shoulders, and I can’t pull my gaze away from her beautiful face.
I start to shake. Not from the strain, not from holding back, but from something deeper, clawing at my chest.
I’m so close. I lean down and kiss her lips again, needing her taste. Needing her to anchor me.
My forehead rests against hers, and I whisper before I can stop myself. Words I never thought I’d say. “Don’t let go of me.”
She blinks, her lashes tangling with mine.
“I won’t.” As if to prove it, she slides her hands down my back, my spine tingling at her touch.
And then she digs her hands into my ass, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to come inside of her so hard that neither of us will ever get over it.
“I need you,” I mutter. “Give it to me.”
She almost looks panicked. “West…”
I say nothing, sliding my hand between our sweaty bodies, finding her sweetest spot. I’m gentle – the woman has already come five times, she doesn’t need pressure right now. But she still lets out the softest of sighs, tightening around me as we move together as one.
My lips find hers, and this doesn’t feel like sex anymore. It feels like something different. Something life changing.
I’m falling and flying at the same time.
“I can’t…” she gasps against my mouth right as her whole body tenses up, the edge of her orgasm curling through her.
I circle her clit with soft, steady pressure and whisper her name, my chest so tight I feel like I can barely breathe as she breaks apart beneath me, clenching my cock as she cries out with pleasure.
Her orgasm is all it takes for me to fall, coming hard inside of her as I groan her name. “My wife. My Eden.” Every word feels more like a confession than a release.
And when we finally come down, our sweaty bodies sticking together, I can’t stop looking at her flushed face, her swollen lips, her eyes so sweet and trusting.
“You okay?” I ask, reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from her cheek.
“I have no idea,” she manages to say. “I think I might have died. If heaven is one long continuous orgasm.”
I laugh, though the sound feels rough against my throat. “You’re not dead. You’re very much alive.” And it’s the weirdest thing. I’ve never felt more alive than I do with her.
I’m not sure I’ve been this happy for a very, very long time.
She smiles up at me, all warm and sleepy, and I remember everything I’ve put her through tonight. “Stay there,” I murmur. “I’ll grab a washcloth and clean you up.”
“Don’t go.” She reaches for me, her voice thick with exhaustion.
The way she says it, simply needing me, undoes me. She could ask me for the moon right now and I’d find a way to capture it.
“Okay,” I whisper, pressing her hand to my mouth, kissing her knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.” She nestles into me, her eyes fluttering shut as she drifts to sleep, and I pull the sheet over her bare body, tucking it around her like she’s something fragile I need to keep safe.
At this moment I know, more than anything else I’ve known in my life, that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this woman.
Because, God help me, I think I’m in love with her.
EDEN
The next morning, I’m perched on West’s lap at the kitchen table, wearing his oversized dress shirt, the hem skimming my bare thighs.
I have a cup of coffee in my hand – because caffeine is life – and I take a sip as West types out one handed replies on his laptop, like running a billion-dollar empire with one hand tied up is no big deal.
Except the other hand isn’t tied. It’s splayed over my stomach, his pinky occasionally dipping lower, reminding me exactly why he wouldn’t let me sit anywhere else.
“We could have gone into work,” I murmur, right as he steals my mug to take a sip. “Careful. You’ll spill it.”
“I’m capable of multitasking,” he says mildly, giving my thigh a squeeze that makes heat prickle under my skin.
Truth is, he’s been touching me everywhere but there. Because he knows I’m sore. He made sure of that last night. Like a man determined to mark what’s his, he left me tender and aching in the best possible way.
He hands me my coffee back and resumes scrolling through his emails. And I can’t help but notice the subject line of one of them.
Annulment Draft.
My hand jerks, setting my cup down harder than I intended, coffee sloshing over the rim. My chest twists, sharp and ugly, and I try to wriggle out of his grasp. Of course we’re still getting this marriage annulled. Last night doesn’t change that.
I still hate the way it makes me feel though. Like he already has me halfway out of the door.
“Stop squirming,” he murmurs in my ear, his warm lips brushing my temple.
That’s when I feel it. Him. Thick and hard against my ass.
“I should put this in the dishwasher,” I say, trying to stand again. But he holds me tight, like he knows I’m trying to escape.
“That email,” he says, because of course he knows what’s turned my mood. “It’s not what you think. I want to put the annulment on hold.”
“What?” I frown. “Why? Wasn’t the plan always to end this once Vin’s money is paid back?”
“It was, but things have changed.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
He takes my chin in his palm, tipping it so our eyes meet. “How do you feel after last night?”
“I told you. Sore.”
A smile pulls at his lips. “I mean about me. How do you feel about me?”
I think I’m in love with you. “I feel like the more time I spend with you, the more scared I get.”
He blinks. “Scared? Why?” There’s an edge to his voice. Like he’s not happy about my answer.
“Because you’re you and I’m me. And I don’t see how any of this is going to end without somebody getting hurt. Probably me.” As I bare my feelings, I realize how true the words are. And I hate how vulnerable they make me feel.
“You think this ends?” His voice is flat. “Why?”
I swallow hard because I don’t want to talk about this.
I like our bubble. The lies I tell myself.
Especially the one that he could fall in love with me.
“We got married because I was reckless, we stayed married to get the investment. But we both know you never would have chosen me to be your wife in any other circumstance.” I ignore the way my heart clenches. “Then there’s my family.”
“What about them?” He frowns.
“What happens if Hudson finds out?”
“You’re afraid of Hudson?” He sounds surprised.
Damn, he’s good at this. Turning everything back on me like a great lawyer would.
“I’m afraid that my brother will rip your pretty head off your pretty neck with his bare hands when he finds out.”
West shakes his head, like that’s the least of his worries. “I don’t give a damn about that. I care about you. About this.” He gestures between us. “Yes, he’ll be pissed. But we can deal with that when the time comes. I’m not letting you go because my best friend might lose his temper.”
The certainty in his voice makes my breath catch, but it doesn’t ease the knot in my chest. “You’ve always said you’d do anything for him. What if he asks you to choose between us?”
West narrows his eyes. “Then he’ll lose.”
The way he says it, so firm, makes my heart stumble. But then his voice softens, the steel giving way to something that sounds almost like fear. “Maybe I’m the wrong one being asked that question. What if it’s you who has to choose?” he asks. “What will you do?”
The vulnerability in his question makes my chest ache. I open my mouth then close it again, because there’s no good answer here. Just a lot of pain for everybody.
Because whichever way I turn, somebody loses. West might lose his best friend. And I could lose my family all over again. Hudson. Autumn. My other brothers.
And I already lost them once.
“I hate letting everybody down,” I whisper.
“I feel like that’s all I’ve done since I was a kid.
Every choice I ever made pushed me further away from my family.
Took away the things they loved.” My throat is so tight I’m finding it difficult to speak.
“I don’t want to be the one to pull my family apart again. ”
“Again?” West murmurs, his fingers brushing my stomach like he’s trying to keep me grounded. “You’ve never pulled them apart.”
God, he thinks too much of me. I want to laugh, but my chest aches too much. “I was the reason we lost our house. The island. It was me.”
West’s hand stills. “No it wasn’t. Your dad lost it in a poker game.”
“Because of me,” I whisper raggedly. Oh god, this hurts.
I thought that maybe saying it out loud would lessen the pressure in my chest, but it only feels worse.
If I close my eyes, I can still see the cards in my father’s shaking hands, hear the rasp in his voice as he begged me to count them.
The stink of whiskey on his breath, the desperation in his eyes.