Page 137 of Wicked & Wildflower

It has been a rough week. Between the revelations of her father and my sister returning home, plus the last-minute wedding prep, we’ve had little time to spend together. I’ve seen her at work and around the house, but not being able to hold her and love her the way I need to, the way I do in the dark of night when it’s just the two of us, has been excruciating.

As we reach her room, I shut the door behind us, and she spins to face me. Her blue eyes are on fire, she licks her full lips in a way that feels like an invitation, and on instinct, I find myself reaching out to grab her.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pull her against me but move behind her so she’s at my front, and we’re both facing the mirror on the back of her door. I brush her hair away from her shoulder, bringing my mouth to her collarbone.

“You look exquisite in this dress,” I murmur, brushing the straps off her shoulders, feeling goosebumps rise across her flesh. “Breathtaking.”

Her head falls back against my chest, eyes fluttering shut. “Thank y—”

“I’m going to take it off you now.”

“Oh,” she whimpers, eyes falling open to meet mine in the mirror, hooded and laced with lust. Her chest heaves, and I wonder if her heart is thrashing against her ribs the same way mine is.

Dahlia nods, and I bring my hand to the center of her back, taking hold of the zipper on her dress. My knuckles drag along her bare skin as I slowly pull it down, opening her body to me. The dress falls off her shoulders, and she lets it fall to the floor, pooling at her feet.

She’s standing in front of me now in nothing but a strapless white bra and a pair of matching panties—the same set she was wearing on her birthday—and I twist the clasp on her bra, letting that fall to the floor too. Torturously slow, I run my hands down her sides, brushing my thumbs across each one of her nipples, eliciting a moan from her. Dipping my fingers into the waistband of her underwear, I tug them down to her mid-thighs, and she shimmies them the rest of the way off until they join her dress on the floor.

“Exquisite,” I whisper, pressing my lips to her neck. “Breathtaking.”

“Everett,” she moans, lifting her arm to wrap her hand around my nape.

I run my hands up and down the length of her beautiful body, and she watches me do so in the mirror with utmost confidence—confidence she didn’t have before. I know every day will look different, and some will be better than others, but I take pride in knowing that—at least right now—I might’ve helped her seethe beauty in herself that has always been there, beauty she was blind to before I showed it to her.

She spins, smiling wickedly at me as she presses against my chest and sends me falling back onto the edge of her bed. “Your turn,” she rasps, pulling at the buckle of my belt and making quick work of getting my slacks off my legs.

Once they’re gone, she sends me moving backward on her bed until I’m sitting up against the headboard and she straddles my hips. Her delicate fingers work away at the buttons of my dress shirt, popping them open one by one.

I know the moment she sees it as she tugs my shirt off my arms. She gasps, movements halting and hands flying to cover her mouth. Her eyes slowly drag from my chest to my face, growing wide as she takes in the tattoo August finished earlier this week. “Everett,” she whispers, one hand slowly lowering to my chest, softly brushing across the ink there. “When did you—”

“The night I got back from New York. Leo and I went to see August while you and Darby were asleep. I’d been thinking about it for a long while before that, though.” She shakes her head, tracing the dahlias that spread wide over my pec and up to my shoulder. “You’re my compass, wildflower,” I repeat the words I said to her weeks ago. “You’re where I find home.”

Her bottom lip trembles, gaze meeting mine and glistening with emotion as she spreads her palm across the entire tattoo—right over my heart. It’s a compass, needle pointing southwest, because that's the direction she was going when she came to find me. Nestled behind it are orange dahlias, a cluster of other wildflowers accented within them.

She tilts her head as she studies it further, a finger outlining the golden thread that wraps around the compass, weaving between the petals of the flowers. “What is this?” she asks.

“Our invisible string. Our thread of gold. Our light.Nuestra luz.”

I watch her brows pinch together, watch the realization dawn on her. Dahlia’s mouth drops open as she inhales sharply, and suddenly, tears are pouring from her bright eyes. I lean up, taking her face between my hands and kissing them away. Moving across her nose and cheeks, I make my way to her mouth and feather my lips against hers, moving softly.

“She’s my light,” I whisper. “And you’re all my colors, Wildflower.”

“Everett.” She wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me harder. “You know that’s permanent, right?” I feel her smile softly against my mouth.

“I love you permanently.”

She pulls away, looking down at me with astonished eyes, brushing her hand along my jaw, as if she’s checking to ensure I’m truly here. She doesn’t respond, though. Instead, she surges forward, kissing me fervently.

I moan into her mouth, and she slips her tongue into mine. We’re a clash of lips and breath and need. I knot my hands into her hair, and she runs her nails down my back. Our bodies flush together, but it’s not enough. A primal urge to be closer—to be entwined—overcomes me, and I’m hardening beneath her legs, feeling her soft skin brush against my most sensitive area.

I let out a groan, and she returns it with a twin sound. “You’re mine.”

“Fuck,” I rasp. “Yes. Yours.”

She pulls away, lifting her hips and reaching between us. I hiss as her soft hand comes in contact with my cock, pumping me from base to tip. She licks her lips, pulling her bottom one between her teeth. Breathing hard, she whispers again, “You’re mine?”

“You own me, baby,” I grit out as she fists me once more. She swipes my head through her slit, so unbelievably wet. “Mind.” Igrip my base as she removes her hand, keeping my cock in place. “Body,” I groan as she seats herself fully.

Her breath hitches as she adjusts to the fullness of having me inside her. She places her palms at the center of my chest, right over the tattoo at my heart. I grip her hips with both my hands and slowly lift her before dropping her back down.

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