Chapter 47
CORA
I’ve become obsessed with a man, and I never thought that would ever happen. But I’m so glad he’s even more obsessed with me than I am with him. However, he’s trained better at hiding it.
I told my mom all about him today. And while she had no idea what I was talking about, it felt good to finally tell someone other than Sebastian all about Arlo. I even quietly told her about the Forsaken and the hunt. I knew it wouldn’t go further than her, so I don’t feel like I betrayed anyone.
I’ve been spending a lot of time sleeping at Arlo’s house, and I’m starting to like it more than my own.
He doesn’t think I noticed, but he bought a new dresser for me, and I’ve been slowly filling it up.
I’m waiting for him to ask me to move in with him.
I thought he would have done it sooner, but I’m glad because we’ve just been enjoying each other, going out, doing everyday things that couples do.
We even went to the movies last week. He takes me out for dinner at least once a week, and the rest of the time, he cooks or orders in.
I no longer bother knocking when I arrive at his house. I use the key instead, giving up hope that I would one day break in, and he’s never asked for it back.
But this time, when I arrive, there are no lights on in the house. I’m confused at first, that is, until I turn the corner and see the living room floor covered in candles. And in the middle of them is Arlo, down on one knee, watching me as I take everything in.
“What are you—” I stop when I realize what he’s doing.
“Cora Ashford,” he starts. I drop my bag to the floor and slowly make my way to him, careful not to touch a single candle. “I’m not asking you this because of other people’s expectations. I want you to be very aware of that. Do you understand?” I nod, and he raises a brow. “Words.”
“Yes.”
“I actually thought it would be months before I asked you this question, but then a few weeks ago, I was walking downtown, and I passed a jewelry store where I stopped to look in the window. Jewelry is nothing to me, but beads, on the other hand, are everything.”
I can’t help the little laugh that bubbles out of me.
“It was the same color as my favorite thing I get to stare at every day.”
I lower my gaze to his hand, where I see a ring with a gold band and a large green stone at its center, almost like an emerald.
“I bought it on the spot and have had it in my pocket ever since.”
“It’s beautiful,” I tell him. Truly, it is.
“What’s even more beautiful is the woman who will be wearing it. So, Cora Ashford, will you be my wife?”
“Your wife?” I whisper.
When I first met this man, I never thought I would become his wife. Now I can think of nothing better.
I throw myself into his arms and shout, “Yes!”
He laughs, and it’s like music to my ears. Then he pulls back far enough to slide the ring onto my finger. And then he looks me dead in the eyes as he says, “I would like my future wife to be wearing nothing but that ring. Right. Now.”
Who am I to disobey my future husband?
I immediately pull my shirt off over my head and then shimmy my skirt down my legs, leaving it in a pile on the floor. I kick my heels off and then brush them all to the side. Unhooking my bra, I slide it down my arms and toss it onto the pile of clothes, then do the same with my underwear.
I wave my hand at him, indicating he should strip, too, and I admire every part of him that he slowly uncovers. He’s so sexy. Every time I kiss him now, I tug on his bottom lip, where his tattoo is. It’s one of my favorite parts of him, second only to what’s between his legs.
Before I can stop myself, I step closer to Arlo and wrap my hand around the shaft of his cock.
“We will use manners tonight. Won’t we, wife?” he says with a raised brow. I lean in and bite his bottom lip, tugging it for a moment before releasing it.
“We’ll see, I guess.”
I stroke him up and down as his hand finds its way between my legs.
“No. If you don’t use your manners, you don’t come,” he warns.
“I want the beads,” I tell him.
His hand pauses.
But mine doesn’t.
“I don’t need the beads,” he insists.
“But I liked them,” I whisper, making him smirk.
“And I love you,” he says.
“I love you more.”
“Not humanly possible.” His words make my heartbeat take off as he slips a finger between my folds and straight into me. I gasp as he thrusts, rubbing his thumb on my clit at the same time. “And no beads tonight. Just us.”
I nod in agreement and let go of his cock. He happily picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. With slow, controlled effort, he lowers me until I slide straight onto him.
Perfection.
I enjoy this part of us. The part where I feel, no matter what, that he is mine and I am his.
The soon-to-be Mrs. Graves.
Who would have thought I would get my happily ever after? Not me.
Arlo Graves, what a venomous attraction you turned out to be.