Page 87 of Sweet Poison

“No, baby. This is real.”

As I guide Willow closer to our picnic spot, I can’t help but steal a glance at her as she looks at the picnic with bright and wide eyes.

Fuck, she’s a dream come true. My dream came true.

She is wearing a skin-tight aqua dress, and it clings to her curves in a way that makes my heart skip a beat and rush blood to my groin. Her curly brown hair is pulled up in a messy bun, tendrils escaping and framing her face. She’s wearing little to no makeup. Her natural beauty shines through, radiant and effortless.

In this moment, she’s like the eighth wonder of the world—an enchanting vision against the backdrop of twinkling lights and so much green. Her natural look only enhances her beauty, and I find myself captivated by the way the moonlight dances across her golden skin.

She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on whether she’s dressed like every man’s wet dream or she’s wearing a quirky mushroom shirt.

She glances back at me, a playful smile tugging at her lips, as she catches me staring at her like a love-sick fool. Warmth rises in my cheeks.

I blush. I fucking blush.

But who can blame me? When the garden, the picnic, the magic of Christmas—it all pales in comparison to her.

“Madden,” she says, sounding playful. “What are you thinking about?”

I could lie to her and save myself the embarrassment of looking whipped for her but I don’t.

Instead, I smile down at her. “Just how fucking lucky I am,” I reply, my heart beating slow and steady for her.

Willow blushes prettily looking all shy all of a sudden. “I’m the lucky one, Madden.”

“No, fairy. You’re not.”

I am.

I don’t know what I did to have someone as good and pure as her look at me as if I’m deserving— as if I’m more than what the media thinks of me. Willow sees right through me. She doesn’t see the anger, the hatred or the pain I carried with me for so long. She doesn’t see the fame, the money or the titles.

She sees the man.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I touch my chest and tap it three times just like she does. Willow’s eyes widen as she looks at my hand and then up at me. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” I say softly. “Not when you’re near.”

Her pretty blue eyes soften and her smile appears.

Good. I want all her smiles.

Grabbing her hand, I help her down into the blanket and then I sit too. Willow immediately dives into a flurry of excitement, her eyes sparkling as she talks about the lights, the decorations, and the flowers. Her laughter not only fills the air but my heart too, and I can’t help but hang to every word out of her pretty mouth.

But then, I notice her excitement begin to die down as she catches herself mid-sentence. “Oh, I’m sorry…” she exclaims, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her voice.

That damn word again.

I frown, tilting my head. “Why are you sorry?”

She bites her lip, a shy smile forming on her face. “Sometimes I talk too much and forget that not everyone is interested in what I have to say. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Overwhelm me?

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