Epilogue
IVY
One Year Later
Alifetime ago, when I was getting used to the idea of marrying Eaton, I wondered how he would take me home.
The man was too old for a bridal carry, and I wouldn’t want him to even try it.
Couldn’t bear the idea of the man popping something from that.
I wouldn’t hear the end of it from my mother.
That, or he would refuse it, and I’d walk into my new home with a husband I didn’t love, side by side in the most unromantic gesture ever.
Nothing like reality.
Ace threw me over his shoulder the moment we agreed we were to leave the wedding party.
He put me down to drive us home, opened the car door, and threw me back over his shoulder.
I’m like a teenager, giggling and giggling nonstop as if I’d drunk too much.
And to think I’m only intoxicated at how much and how deeply I love him.
He leaves the elevator with my form shaking with laughter on his shoulder. We must look so ridiculous. I gape back at the camera inside the elevator and snicker against my hands.
“What’s so amusing, Mrs. Alvarez?” Ace asks in that hoarse voice of his that slips down my body like velvet.
“Only wondering what the security is thinking of now that he saw us in the elevator.”
Ace makes an annoyed sound. “He better think nothing of my wife.” And he smacks my butt, making me cry out and jerk on his hold.
He doesn’t let me go, not even for an inch.
I’m still amazed at how strong this man is.
I’m not thin, never was, never will be, and he showed no problems with that. Quite the contrary.
My man likes me the way I am.
“You are too possessive, Mr. Alvarez,” I say, dragging the letter z just because he said it’s sexy when I say it this way.
“I thought you liked it.”
“You got me there.”
He doesn’t put me down as he presses a thumb to the digital lock next to the door.
The door into our apartment. Our home. It’s been the place I live in for the past year, yes, but it’s so different now that we’re officially together.
Married, for the entire world to see. We cross the threshold, he still carrying me over his shoulder like that first time, then he closes the door and leads me inside the apartment.
It’s a wonder to see how the place changed. It used to look lifeless, all slick furniture and grays. Now, frames with my art take every wall. Ace likes showing them off.
I meet his gaze. And I know what comes next. We’ve done this a hundred times, but it catches my breath differently this time. It feels different now that I’m forever going to be his.
Ace takes me into the bedroom, our bedroom, and slowly puts me down.
My tight white dress rides up my thighs, but my feet barely touch the ground before he lays me on the mattress.
I cling to him, staring into his eyes, all humor now gone from our bodies.
He holds me tight, kicking his shoes off before he finds his place over my body.
My husband traces my face with his nose, his warm breath coasting against my parted lips.
How come he still makes my heart skip? An action so simple, so gentle, so unlike the way he is in the day-to-day, and it makes me swoon all the same.
His hands clamp down around my hips, pressing my pelvis to his. His cock twitches against my center, letting me know he’s ready to go. My mouth goes desert dry. I lick my lips and watch him watching me, his gaze fastened to my every movement.
Ace ends the space between us, and his body against mine is a hurricane.
Fingers burying into hair, his lips devouring mine.
Every thrust of his hips makes the rope inside me coil tighter.
My nipples pucker and he finds them with his fingertips.
Twist and pinch, pull and caress. Teeth rake down my throat, a hoarse rumble climbing up his chest. My mind goes blank, and all I feel is the absurd pleasure that is being in his arms.
My now-husband grips the cleavage of my dress, his fingers skating across my pebbled nipples.
I shiver all over, gaping at him as my chest heaves with sharp breaths.
With a wicked grin, he rips the front of the dress, letting my breasts bounce freely.
The cold kisses my exposed skin, and Ace devours me with his eyes without touching me.
“Please,” I beg, pouting, arching off the bed.
He gives the same treatment to the rest of the dress, peeling the shreds of expensive fabric off my body. No need for a Trash the Dress when your husband is feral for you. He leaves me in my lacy panties and the heels. His fiery fingers curl around my ankle, bringing my leg up to his face.
“Please what, gorgeous?” He growls, his eyes going black.
Please, put me out of my misery. Please, do something.
Say something. Touch me. Let my body catch on fire under your hands.
The words roll in my head like a whirlwind and I mumble, unsure of what to say.
A fever grows inside me as Ace pecks my ankle and makes his way up my leg so very slowly I could die waiting for him to do something more.
“Take me,” I breathe, a mere whisper, even less than that.
Ace seems to shake all over, his hard body going tense. He lets my leg slip from his shoulder and prowls closer until his face hovers over mine. A roar crosses his face as he opens that familiar, hungry smile.
“Oh, I will take you, gorgeous. Every single day for the rest of our lives.” And he moves fast, propping my leg back over his shoulder, ripping off my panties, and devouring my pussy.
My cries echo up the high walls and I squirm and wiggle but Ace keeps me pinned to the bed to feast on me for as long as he desires.
I let him. I let him do whatever he wants to me because all he does is give me pleasure.
This is the first day of the rest of our lives, and I can’t wait to have all of him.
THE END OF BOOK 10