29. All Holy Vows (Hattie) #3

As I look at him in awe, tracing his jaw, loving the thicker beard he’s grown in lately and the sharp angles of his face, the compelling softness of his eyes, I’m certain he’s a different man.

He’s a unicorn now.

Uniquely alpha without any alpha-hole.

Thank God.

Thank God he’s mine.

We keep it local for the honeymoon, leaving just a couple days later, and I have no regrets.

Sailing Nova Scotia just north of the border with Ares is a dream.

Best of all, Ethan agreed to drop a lot of his usual comforts, leaving pure, plain us and a wild landscape that’s beautifully rugged.

The tiny cottage we’ve rented—more of a cabin, really—is true adventurer stuff.

The rocky forest surrounds us, the sea sparkles in the distance, and most of all, we have each other.

Ares immediately settles on the small wooden deck when we arrive, belting out lazy warning barks at the birds.

“This view is perfect!” I turn in Ethan’s arms as his hands find my waist.

“Knew you’d like it.” He drops a kiss on the end of my nose.

The living room even has a bookshelf piled high with old books, an enormous TV I’m sure we’ll barely spend any time watching, and a large sectional that curls halfway around the room.

That will see plenty of use, I’m certain.

Just maybe not the kind it’s built for.

I run through the small rooms like a kid excited to be on vacation. I may be living out my lighthouse keeper’s wife fantasies and I’m not sorry.

The bathroom reeks with too much potpourri and the bedroom isn’t what I’d call spacious, but so what?

We have a bed.

That deserves a mention because it’s so vast.

I think we could sleep starfished and still not touch.

The moment I see it, I leap on the mattress, turning around and grinning up at him from where he stands by the doorway.

“We should sell your house in Portland and move here,” I say.

“Our house,” he corrects. Technically true since my apartment is no more.

That was a moving pain, briefly, but now I’m pumped to start filling his library with real books.

“Our house,” I repeat, and it feels good. “But maybe we should consider selling it.”

“For what?”

“This!”

I throw out a hand, reaching toward the rustic ceiling that slopes at one side and the little window that’s straight from a colonial lover’s dream.

The closet is so small I probably can’t fit inside, but this place has charm.

Ethan walks forward, filling the small space.

His presence, his essence, his scent .

God, I’ll never get used to it.

“Hattie, if you want a vacation home, we can still keep the place in Portland. We have enough money to buy twenty of these without breaking a sweat.”

“Yeah, well… just being practical.”

“Why would we give up our large and comfortable home for a place that doesn’t even have a working toilet?”

“Oh, God. It doesn’t?” I bolt upright.

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“The fact that you believed me says everything about your tolerance for living in the sticks. We’ll keep the place in Portland for now. Never mind the quick hop to New York.”

Shuffling to the end of the bed, I reach up and wrap my arms around his waist.

“You’re a dick,” I say affectionately. “And fine, so maybe we shouldn’t move here. But I like the vacation home idea. It’s lovely having somewhere you can reset and step back from everything.”

He smooths his hands through my hair, tugging out the knots with such gentle affection, it makes my toes curl.

“I know. I need that too.”

“Does it ever feel like you’re going to wake up sometimes?” I whisper, tightening my hold on him so he can’t pull back and see my face. Always his first response when I get all emotional.

“What do you mean, Pages?”

“I mean, I know it’s real now. But we’ve been playing a game for so long and it feels like everything is too good, you know? Like the universe will notice and decide we shouldn’t get to have so much .”

It’s not a fear I get often.

And I know it’s ridiculous.

But right now, kicking off my honeymoon in a tiny cabin with my husband, I can’t help wondering if I’m going to snap awake, back in the world where he left me and we never found a way to be happy together.

“Hattie,” Ethan growls possessively, still stroking my hair.

“I know you love me,” I say quickly. “And I know this is as real as it gets. A broken toilet won’t ruin anything.”

“The toilet isn’t broken.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I feel like this kind of happiness can’t last, you know?”

He tilts my head up, one hand still in my hair as the other finds my chin.

“You worry too much, Pages,” he says slowly. “It won’t always be our honeymoon and the high will fade. I’ll be damned if our love ever sputters, though.”

Well played.

I smile.

“It’s been a long, hard road here,” I whisper.

“That doesn’t mean we have to pay for it every time something goes right. You’re allowed to be happy. You deserve good things. I used to think the same way—until you, woman. Just make that voice in the back of your mind shut it. I’ll do my best to keep you smiling.”

I press my face into his chest.

“I can’t argue with that,” I say. “You made me believe Stephen King was on the next boat over and I nearly died.”

He bends so his mouth is next to my ear, and my stomach twists in anticipation. “Since we’re here, I have something better.”

“Is it your dick?” I run my hands up his thigh.

“Patience.” As my palm runs over the bulge in his pants, he grinds against my hand. He’s already raging hard.

“Now?” I ask.

“Whenever you want. You know that,” he promises.

“How about now?” I sit up, straining for his kiss. “How about on this bed while Ares is still napping? It’s my favorite part of the cabin.”

“Made sure I got the unit with the biggest bed. They knew we were honeymooners.”

“Only the best for Mrs. Blackthorn.” I giggle.

“No lie.”

Then, with his strong hands on my waist, he leans me over the bed, pushing me down until I’m on my back. His familiar weight settles on me a second later.

I cup his face in my hands.

“I love you so, so much,” I tell him.

“Not half as much as I love you, wife.” He grins at my little gasp of outrage.

Before I can protest, he smothers me in a molten kiss.

It’s like our souls collide in this heady fusion, fizzing like champagne.

I tug at his shirt until he pulls it over his head, pushing up the skirt of my cute little dress. I’m glad we underdressed for the chilly day, like we both knew what was happening later.

“Like this,” he rasps as he pushes my panties to one side, not undressing me. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Hattie.”

I believe it.

When he tells me, and when he looks at me like that, there’s no choice but to believe him. Especially when he’s sinking down between my legs.

And when his mouth finds my pussy, I gasp, lifting my hips.

The man is greedy today, licking and sucking, devouring me, taking over—and I happily let him.

“I’m lucky you’re so generous. I—oh!” My voice chokes off as I slide my hand through his hair.

He nips my thigh, and the sharp sting adds an extra thrill, heightening the diabolical pleasure as it reaches my core.

We’ve mapped each other’s bodies by memory now.

Ethan knows what I like and when to bring it, even when he’s exploring me.

And I’ve learned not to hold back one bit, letting him hear every ounce of pleasure he thieves from my bones.

He treats every moan, every whimper, every twitch like a song.

I sing for him spectacularly.

Then his tongue refocuses on my clit, hot and unrelenting, bringing me to the brink.

Holy hell!

When I’m close, he growls so hard it vibrates, desperate to pull it out of me, to feel me come apart for him.

I happily oblige.

When my O hits, I go off like a rocket, drenching the sheets and his face as his smug, satisfied groan shakes my flesh.

I know he tastes it on his lips.

And when he kisses his way back up my body, chasing my lips, I taste myself, too.

There’s no question what comes next.

He frees his cock.

He grabs my wrists and pins them down.

He aims that feral glint in his eye straight at my soul.

“You come on this cock next, Hattie,” he commands. “You’re hot and ready as hell for me. Your taste doesn’t lie.”

I shiver.

But I fight to hold still, letting my pussy soak the head of his cock as he teases me, the last aftershocks of my last orgasm still fluttering through me.

I think he can feel them too.

His face screws up with need.

Yes . I want to scream it. Yes! Yes!

Instead, I stare up in awe, my entire body locked, overwhelmed with the need to feel him driving deep, scratching the itch he created.

Two halves of the same universe.

Together.

When he pushes in, he groans with such guttural fury I can’t breathe.

“I love you, Pages. But I’m going to fuck you to pieces,” he snarls. I whimper with delight before he rears back and slams into me again. “I fucking love you, Hattie Blackthorn.”

He swings so low it drives me wild, adding friction from his pubic bone.

With every breath, my nipples brush his chest, pulling me into his insanity.

I’m going to come again in minutes.

With him, on our honeymoon, my body knows no limits.

“My wife,” he growls, and the word drops through me like an anvil. “My gorgeous, adorable, thirsty little wife . She fucks like a fallen angel.”

Holy hell.

“Ethan!” I squeeze his cock until I see stars.

My thighs tremble as my legs hook around him, pinching tight.

“Not yet, Pages. Hold on, just a bit longer.” He kisses my jaw, and every muscle in my body goes taut, humming with anticipation.

White noise fills my brain, this need to explode rising every time my heart throbs.

So close.

So embarrassingly close.

He groans into my neck, adding his teeth when he hears me gasp.

“Say my name,” he says. “Scream it when you come for me.”

I can barely nod.

“Now?” I whisper desperately, the word fractured by the riptide in every thrust.

His hold on my wrists tightens, heightening everything.

“Not yet,” he commands.

I suck in a breath and do my best to hold back as his thrusts quicken, his breath ragged.

His eyes glaze with lust, animal ecstasy taking over his face.

I know he’s holding out, trying to stretch this as long as he can.

But we’re not going to last.

Not like this.

It’s unfiltered love that does it in the end.

The romance that breaks us.

“Ethan,” I whisper his name through clenched teeth, unable to hold on, and then I’m arching my back.

I throw myself into him as my core detonates.

Convulsions rock through me in a heat wave so intense it nearly stops my heart.

Then he’s roaring.

There’s a human waterfall crashing down, rasping my name with such fervor, and I blank out, holding on so tight.

We go down together, wrestling the same passion fit.

All I feel is his delicious throb as he fills me, his seed coming for what feels like forever.

In the aftermath, I’m surprised no one passes out.

We lay there, boneless and panting. I’m surprised when he gets up.

“Where are you going?” I ask sleepily.

“Like I said, I have something for you. I was going to get it before, but you distracted me.” He flashes a wicked grin that tells me just how much he minded. “Stay there.”

No worries. A fire couldn’t move me off this bed right now.

In under a minute, he’s back, cradling something that looks like a beautiful old oversized hardcover book. An old leather edition, maybe?

I sit up with my heart in my throat.

“What’s this?”

“Late wedding present. Don’t know if it’s tradition or whatever to do it like this. If it isn’t, it should be,” he tells me.

“Wow, it’s a masterpiece.” I smooth my fingers across the gold embossed leather before I look up sheepishly. “Um, I didn’t get you anything.”

“This is for us both, Pages.” He nudges me, the mattress sinking as he sits beside me. “Open it.”

Slowly, I open it to reveal empty white pages, just waiting to be filled.

A photo album.

A really awesome one.

Not a true book after all, but just as good.

It only takes a second to realize it’s not all blank, I missed something at the front.

There, on the first page, Leonidas Blackthorn grins back.

It’s an old photo in black and white.

Leonidas as a young man with a thick mane of hair.

As I flip through, there are a few more pictures, tracking his life. His wedding. Ethan’s grandmother.

About a third of the way in, the pictures of Leo stop with a final photo of a time I recognize.

I remember when it was taken.

Margot and I are on one side, and Ethan on the other. The old man has his arms around all of us, wearing a sly smile.

Margot and I were about thirteen in the picture, and Ethan a few years older.

He looks just like I remember—devastatingly handsome, cocky, a permanent blue storm in his eyes.

He was giving the camera one of his real smiles that day.

A sweet rarity.

On the next page, there’s a photo from our wedding. Ethan and me along the lakeshore, happy and holding hands.

The water is on fire with the sunset and fiery leaves behind us. He’s looking down at me as I laugh up at him.

“I had the photographer send that one early,” he explains. I’m tearing up. “The first set of photos, that’s the prologue. This is the first chapter of our story.”

I don’t say anything. I’m just shaking.

“Hattie?” he whispers.

“Oh my God, you—you’re a romantic after all.”

He snorts loudly.

“Let’s not get too carried away.” He shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

Ares must hear the commotion. He comes plodding in a second later, butting his head between us for pets.

The rest of the photo album looks blank.

I flip through it just in case, but there’s nothing but white space.

“I haven’t wanted to write for a while. I figure I’m better off selling books than writing them, but now…” I whisper, smiling through the sweetest heartbreak. “Let’s finish what Leonidas started.”

“Family photo album,” he says, spreading his palm suggestively over my lower belly. “Wherever our story goes, I’m here to help the words flow until the end. Together, Pages.”

“Together,” I agree, tracing our photo. “Together and totally in love.”

Thanks for reading Vows We Never Made!

No need to say goodbye to Ethan and Hattie just yet. Come take a peek at the happy future they’re writing years later.

Then read on for a preview of a hilarious and steamy romance where struggling baker Junie agrees to fake it with a grump who can’t stand a speck of sugar named Dexter Rory. Don’t miss Two Truths And A Marriage!

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