Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
I haven’t stopped staring at the ring on my finger. Although Lennon told me he was taking care of the rings, I didn’t think too much about what it would look like. In the back of my mind, I assumed it would be a simple gold band. Our marriage wasn’t born out of love, so I didn’t expect Lennon to put much effort in finding an elaborate ring. Especially one that looks like the one I have wrapped around my finger. In a way, it reminds me of my mother’s. Hers was destroyed in the accident, but if I close my eyes, I can picture it. Like hers, the emerald cut is large. At least four carats—probably more if I were to guess. The weight of it is the perfect symbolism for the way I’m feeling after telling Lennon ‘I do’.
I’m watching him from across the courtyard, pretending as if his constant stares aren’t burning a hole straight through me.
He hasn’t kissed me since we were standing at the altar. It’s a silly notion to be hung up on considering what we did in the greenhouse on the far side of the property. But I can’t help noticing the small detail. Reluctantly, I pick it apart, obsessing over it more than what would be considered normal.
I can still feel his long fingers inside me. The heat of his breath wafting against my skin. His deep voice vibrating as he orders me to lick his fingers, tasting what he did to me.
I guess he’s successfully delivered on the promise he made. I’ve been spending the entire night wishing I’d had more than just his fingers inside me.
I’m still eyeing him from across the courtyard, noticing the absence of the flower I’d slid into the front pocket of his midnight black suit before leaving the greenhouse. I stand beside the small cocktail table feeling conflicted. Lennon gave more to our kiss on the altar than I expected. He threaded his fingers in my hair and held me against his lips until I heard Roe gently clearing her throat, clearly telling me she wasn’t expecting it either.
I couldn’t help it. Walking down the aisle with his eyes trained on me, I’d allowed myself to fall down the rabbit hole. Lennon had given me my dream wedding, and having him stare at me with his striking blue eyes, signature black on black suit, I realized I was treading in waters I wasn’t expecting to.
By the time he’d slid the ring on my finger and placed his lips to mine, I was finished.
His kiss had done something inside me. It’s as if my soul had been caught in an unknown slumber, awakened only by Lennon’s kiss. Sounds like a fucking fairy tale. I’m the princess freed from an eternal sleep by a single kiss. Ridiculous.
I was relieved to know when he’d pulled me to the greenhouse and immediately put his hands on me that I wasn’t alone. He’d felt it, too. But now he’s back to the Lennon I’ve come to know. Before he became my husband. He hasn’t completely let his black heart take control tonight, however. Every now and then, he’ll walk over and place his hand on the small of my back while we make conversation with his family.
I guess that’s him fulfilling our agreement that we would act as husband and wife in public.
But the most difficult part about tonight were the pictures. Just like any other typical wedding, Lennon and I took newlywed photos. He didn’t hold back with his touches, but still, refused to kiss me, resorting to nuzzling my neck and brushing his lips against my cheek instead. By the time we were finished, I gave myself another pat on the back for deciding not to wear panties today. But I haven’t been able to make head nor tails of Lennon’s hot and cold nature with me.
Maybe he was afraid of losing control again. Maybe he doesn’t want me to feel like he can suddenly touch me whenever he wants simply because I’m now his wife, regardless of whether it’s transactional or not.
But all those possibilities haven’t stopped the unrelenting thoughts from clouding my brain. It’s maddening.
“How did you get this so dirty already?” Roe asks behind me.
I twist, looking down the train of silk. “Lennon showed me the rest of the grounds earlier.” I’m quick to answer. I didn’t think this lie through. Roe immediately catches on, but she doesn’t press me further. I’m just thankful she came in the first place, considering how she’s been feeling.
She arches an eyebrow, unconvinced. I ignore it.
We stand side by side and take in the beauty of this place. Frederick left five minutes ago, telling me he was proud I’d taken the plunge and strengthened our bond with the Harding family. I think he was less concerned about the logistics of my marriage and more concerned with the benefits that came from it.
I spent a few minutes talking to my new brothers-in-law. They didn’t say much outside of asking the typical basic questions of getting to know one another. Most of our conversations centered around our school rivalry. Boston College versus Harvard. Since Jude’s wife Victoria was a Boston College graduate as well, Roe and I were outnumbered. Micah stuck around a while longer than Jude, but that’s only because Jude’s daughter spit up a large puddle of formula on Victoria’s sequined dress.
The sun has set behind the horizon in the distance, and goosebumps spread across my arms from the ocean breeze.
“You didn’t have to stay this long if you weren’t feeling up for it,” I gently tell Roe.
Her small shoulders relax as she tilts her head to the side. “If I wasn’t up for it, I wouldn’t still be here. But it’s okay. Steven is on his way to pick me up from the hotel.”
“I’m sorry he wasn’t feeling well.” I frown.
“It’s okay.” She shrugs, lifting her hand to tuck my loose strands of hair behind my ear. “You make a beautiful bride, and Lennon is fucking lucky to be married to you.”
“Maybe.” I laugh, letting those unsettled thoughts about earlier back into my mind.
“I just want to remind you of that, considering Mom and Dad couldn’t be here. And with Kellan…” Her soft voice trails off.
“Please, don’t,” I beg. “For completely different reasons, I don’t think I can handle thinking about the three of them. This day has gone better than I expected considering the details of why I married Lennon, and I don’t want to ruin it with depressing thoughts. There’s no sense in being upset over a situation I can’t change, or being angry over someone who’s already being punished for the choices they made. Makes it easier to not be angry knowing justice has been served.”
“You’re right,” Roe concedes, giving me a meek, apologetic grin.
“I like to believe Mom and Dad would be happy today.” I smile, but it doesn’t last long. “And as far as Kellan is concerned, well, he can go fuck himself, I guess.”
“Laurel Harding!” Roe says, shocked by lack of restraint. Whereas she’s slightly more sympathetic to our brother’s situation, I am not.
But hearing her yell my new full name flips my stomach upside down. Like the ring on my finger, it’s a foreign sound, but one I think I’ll easily get used to.
“I apologize, ladies.” Lennon comes up behind me, once again placing his hand on the small of my back, pulling Roe’s attention away from me. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but the helicopter is ready.”
“Helicopter?” Roe asks, her mouth turning down in surprise. “Fancy.”
“Taking my helicopter is the quickest way back to the city from here.” Lennon smiles. “Thank you for coming, Monroe. It was great to see you again.”
“You, too.” She smiles in return. “Take care of my sister, okay?”
“I will.” He nods.
“Are you sure we can’t give you a ride back to the hotel?” I ask.
She giggles. “I’m fine, Laurel.”
Misty eyed, I wrap my arms around Roe and pull her into a deep hug. I want to squeeze her, but I’m conscious of the way she’s been feeling lately, as well as the port implanted into her chest.
“I love you,” I whisper in her ear. “I can’t tell you what it means to me that you were here.”
“Are you kidding?” she asks, laughing. “And miss my sister marry the infamous Lennon Harding?”
I laugh, resting my head on her shoulder. “I love you,” I tell her again. I feel like I need to say it more often nowadays.
“I love you, too.”
I leave Roe where she’s standing and follow Lennon to the back end of the courtyard. We pass the greenhouse and walk around a large stone wall, revealing a helicopter waiting for us.
Lennon holds my hand, steadying me as I step up into the helicopter. I sit in the seat on the opposite side from the open door, pulling my veil in behind me. He bends, gathering the train of my dress in his arms. Specks and streaks of dirt cover the bottom hem, reminding me of being in the greenhouse with Lennon.
Ignoring the swelling in my chest, I lean forward and tug on as much of the train as I can, swishing it off to the side, out of Lennon’s way. He slides in beside me, dropping the rest of my dress onto the floor, then he shuts the door and twists in his seat. He reaches above me, grabs a pair of headphones, and gently places them on my head, ensuring each side is covering my ears. I’m conscious of his touch, the brush of his fingers on my cheeks, the heat of his skin touching mine. His piercing blue eyes look anywhere but at my own, even when he turns in his own seat, placing his headphones over his ears.
The helicopter starts to lift off the ground, when he leans over, buckling my seat belt. I inhale a sharp breath and hold it. His scent surrounds me, and fuck if I don’t want him to take me right now. We fucked in the back seat of his car years ago. How different would it be if we repeated history in his helicopter?
His face is close to mine as he reaches between the inner wall of the helicopter and my hip. The buckle snaps before he sits back down.
Once he buckles himself in, he finally looks me in the eye. “We should be home in about twenty minutes.”
I nod and give him a small smile, then turn my head to look out the window. The golden lights of the towns between here and Boston shine bright. Unsure if this is the normal route or if it’s a special one, considering it’s my wedding night, we fly over the coast. I watch in fascination as the waves lap and recede onto the shore. Small, white wooden buildings and cottage style houses line the shores of Massachusetts.
I’ve never seen New England from this view before. It’s breathtaking.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Lennon asks.
Did I just say that out loud without realizing it or was Lennon thinking the same thing?
I snap my head in his direction, the weight of the headphones wobbling on my head before evening out. “It’s gorgeous.”
“The view is best in late summer.”
“Why? Is it because of the fireworks for the fourth of July?”
“No.” He looks out the window on his side. “I don’t know why, but with every passing day, more boats can be seen floating in the harbor. It’s like a hundred glowing lights sprinkle the moonlit ocean. I think everyone realizes the summer doesn’t last long, so they try to soak up as much time on the water as they can.”
“I bet.” It’s true. New England summers don’t last long, but I think there’s beauty in that. It only makes us appreciate the sunny, warm weather even more.
Lennon and I don’t speak the rest of the ride home. We sit in silence, keeping our distance. Hope tugs on a string attached to my heart, wishing he’d reach out and touch me in some way. Place a hand on my knee. Brush his finger along my cheek like he usually does. But when the helicopter lands, he doesn’t touch me until he’s helping me step out of the helicopter.
We’ve landed on top of his building, and when we reach the door leading off the roof, I find a familiar face holding the door open for us. The helicopter turns off, allowing us to talk without having to yell.
“Laurel, this is my personal assistant, Ray,” Lennon says.
“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Harding.” Ray smiles.
I gasp. It’s the first time a connection to the night Lennon and I shared has been acknowledged. Relief and excitement balloons in my chest as if all my doubts have been validated. Not that Ray’s recollection and acknowledgement supersedes Lennon’s, but it’s nice to know I’m not alone with my memories.
“You as well.” I give Ray a smile then turn to Lennon, hoping he’ll make a comment about Ray’s introduction. But he doesn’t. He simply wraps his hand around mine.
“If you ever need anything, Ray will be here,” Lennon tells me. “I’ve already given him your phone number, and I’ll give you his so you can reach him at any time.”
Ray congratulates us on our marriage before Lennon leads me inside the doorway. We ride the elevator down two levels. When the doors slide open, I drop the train of my dress and step into my new home.
Lennon drops his keys and loosens his black tie. He spins around, walking backward as he talks.
“Ray’s already arranged to have all your clothes from the bags you left at the Cape Cod house this morning put away accordingly in our bedroom.” He points down the hallway.
I lean forward, eyeing the single bed situated along the farthest wall. Lennon requested I pack a bag with as many clothes and toiletries as I wished to bring to his place and bring it to the house in Cape Cod when I arrived this morning. I’m amazed he asked Ray to take them from the Cape house just to bring them back to the city.
Lennon’s city apartment is exactly how I imagined it to be: oak-stained walls, slate countertops covering a similar shade of oak cabinets. The kitchen looks untouched. The outer wall of the apartment is floor to ceiling glass overlooking downtown Boston. In the distance, I can see mine and Lennon’s office building.
I’m surveying the living room, noting a large TV in the far corner, along with one couch and one large leather chair. Other than that, there isn’t much to his apartment.
Lennon inches his way toward the front of the hallway and cocks his head to the side. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of your new home.”
Hope tugs onto that string, once again, as I follow my husband down the long hallway. I step into the bedroom and play with my new wedding ring, twirling it around my finger. The sensation is foreign.
“Wait,” I say, eyeing the large bed. “Is this the only bed in the apartment?”
“Of course,” he says while removing his tie. He tosses it onto the bed and removes his jacket. “I’ve never needed more than one bed, Mrs. Harding. Not when it’s only been me living here. Is that a problem?”
Heat blooms in my cheeks. I still haven’t wrapped my head around the fact that we aren’t staying at the house on the Cape. He surprised me when he said we would be leaving. It only made sense for us to stay there before heading back to the city. But I could see the darkness coming over him when I brought up staying. I didn’t push him any further. Part of me thinks it could be because it’s the same place where his father’s funeral was held.
But it still doesn’t stop the nagging question bouncing around in my brain.
Why would Lennon have us stay at a place where there’s only one bed when we could have stayed at the house that had over a dozen to choose from?
“No, it isn’t a problem,” I whisper, my gaze falling to Lennon’s chest. “You’re my husband. I guess it’s actually the least problematic situation for us to be in.”
He’s already removed half his suit. His black button-down shirt is partially unbuttoned, revealing his fully tattooed chest. I swallow, following the sharp lines and shapes taking form along his tan skin. My stomach bubbles with heat.
“Everything okay?” Lennon asks. He hasn’t moved from where he’s standing on the side of the bed.
I stay where I am near the foot of the bed and look down at my feet and the bottom of my dirt-riddled wedding dress.
“Yes,” I mutter, wanting to get out of this dress and get my mind off Lennon’s exposed chest.
How the fuck am I supposed to sleep with him and keep our marriage strictly business when he looks like this?
“I think I need a shower.” I remove my veil, folding the sheer mesh fabric over itself and placing it on top of the dresser behind me. I don’t know if the dresser belongs to Lennon or me. In fact, I don’t know what is mine and what isn’t.
Overwhelmed, I spin around, turning away from my husband. I reach behind my back, fumbling to find the zipper. I bend my hands, contorting my wrists until I’ve got a grip on the tiny metal teardrop pull. My fingers burn as I try to pull it down, but it doesn’t budge. Seriously, why do they make these zipper pulls so goddamn tiny?
I grunt in frustration when two large hands cover mine. A shiver works its way down my spine when I feel Lennon lean forward, bringing his mouth to the hollow of my ear.
“Having a little trouble? Let me help you.”
I don’t hold back. I lean into him, turning my face toward his mouth. His heavy breaths brush against my skin like the lavender flower he brushed against me in the greenhouse.
“Thank you,” I whisper, allowing my arms to fall at my sides.
Fire shoots between my legs. I’m a mess.
He’s towering over me, keeping his face close to mine. My eyes flutter before closing, breathing him in. He’s a mixture of cologne, lavender, and dirt.
He manages to get the zipper undone. My shoulders instinctively fall, the relief of my tight dress releasing its hold on me. Lennon’s body is pressed against mine as he runs his fingertips across my bare back, widening the opening of my dress. The thin silk straps of my dress fall off my shoulders.
“Better?” he asks. His fingertips feel like a feather being dragged across my skin.
I lick my lips and bite down on the bottom one. “Mmhmm.” I nod.
I’m tired and exhausted, but I’m also craving more of Lennon’s touch. I don’t want him to stop.
It’s as if he’s caught me in a trance. I’m stuck on a loop, getting high with every single touch. The more he presses, the more I let him in. I’m like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, having no fear in taking a giant bite of cake.
Our marriage vows were lies. Does that mean every dirty word and every heated touch is a lie as well? I can’t make sense of what’s right or wrong, up or down. All I know is how it feels when I’m with him. How it’s always felt.
Our wedding has broken down a wall we’ve built up until this point. The moment Lennon led me to the greenhouse, and I willingly went with him, was the moment everything changed. Lies blurred into releasing all of our inhibitions. Our kiss at the altar opened the floodgates. We either haven’t been able to shut them or we don’t want to. We don’t fight the current, allowing it to take us with it instead.
Sliding his hands underneath my dress, Lennon pulls the fabric away from my back, allowing the dress to fall off my shoulders. The straps slide down my arms as Lennon’s hands work their way around my back to the side of my ribs. His fingertips leave a blazing trail across my skin as he grips both of my breasts in his large hands.
I gasp and tilt my head back, resting it against his chest. He’s taller than me, at least by ten inches. I’ve always been short and haven’t grown since I was in the eighth grade. But even with him towering over me, I feel safe with Lennon. His touch is gentle yet measured with purpose, taking care to know it means more than just a simple touch.
He cups each of my breasts in his hands, allowing them to fill his large palms. His hands are only on one part of my body, but I feel him everywhere. I moan, rolling my hips back until I press against his hardened cock straining against his pants.
Gliding his thumbs over my pebbled nipples makes me gasp again.
“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” he asks quietly.
“Yes.” My straps fall out of my arms, and my dress bunches around my hips. The upper half of my body is completely exposed. Lennon’s hands continue to massage my breasts. He glides his thumbs over my nipples, pinching them ever so slightly before he repeats the cycle.
“I want your mouth on me,” I admit, wishing he’d kiss me.
“Like this?” he asks, gently placing his lips on my shoulder. I roll my head away from him, exposing more of my neck.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Like that.”
“And this?” He drags his tongue down the curve of my neck.
“Yes.”
“Tell me…” He kisses my neck. “Mrs. Harding.” He kisses behind my ear.
“Oh, God,” I moan. “What?”
He pinches my ear lobe between his teeth, careful not to bite down on the five-thousand-dollar earrings he insisted I buy with my dress.
“Did your pussy spend the rest of the night wishing it were touched by more than just my hand?”
My heart expands as I place my hand over his right one, guiding him lower. I pull his hand down along my stomach, over the bit of dress wrapped around my hips until we hit the top of the slit in my dress.
He allows me to take the lead until I bring both our hands between my thighs. I press his fingers against my hardened clit, cupping myself with his large palm, making sure he feels my wetness. I’m soaking for him, the memory of his hand on me in the greenhouse amplifying every sensation.
“What do you think, husband?” I ask, jerking my hips backward into his cock.
“Fuck.” He hisses. “I’m thinking we need to rectify this situation. Don’t you agree?”
“You shouldn’t…” I swallow, catching my breath as he works his fingers against my clit and his thumb over my nipple. “You shouldn’t ask questions you already know the answer to, Mr. Harding.”