Page 121 of Faking Ties

“Strip,” he demands. “And put your hands on the counter, ass out.”

“Is this my punishment for something?”

“No.” He cages me between his arms, his breath hot on my ear. “This is your reward.”

HUNTER

TWO WEEKS LATER

Elodieand I ride the elevator up to the top of the Skyrise skyscraper.

“What are we doing here?” Elodie asks. “I need to get back to the kitchen. I have so much work to do. And oh my God.” She slaps a hand over her eyes. “I sound so ungrateful. I’m sorry. I want to be here with you, but I also want to work. Does that make me a bad person?”

“Not at all.” I chuckle. She’s so cute when she’s flustered. In the two weeks since she moved in with me, her online bakery has taken off. She sells out every day and has already hired two people to help her bake and fulfill the orders, but it’s not enough. The limitedavailability is making her even more popular, especially when Stella’s posted numerous photos with her cookies in the background, a subtle nod to her sister’s business.

“It’ll just be for a few minutes. There’s something I want to show you.”

“And this something couldn’t wait?”

I shake my head and the elevator doors open to reveal the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the city.

“Where is everyone?” she asks, glancing around the empty space.

“On a lunch break.”

She gives me a deadpan expression. “Right, becausethat’snormal for a tourist attraction.”

I laugh and guide her to the glass square on the floor, the same one we went to as a team to overcome Marcus’s fear of heights. Using the map on the floor that shows the cardinal directions for orientation, I position her facing the southeast windows.

I point to the outside. “About five thousand miles that way is Rome.”

“That’s about five thousand miles too far away,” she jokes.

I grin. “The moment things calm down for your business, we’re going there. Just like we’ll go anywhere in the world on your bucket list. Just like I promise to always save a seat at any table for you and to support you in everything you do.” Holding her hands in mine,I continue. “I promise to always lift you up and help you pursue your passions. And when things get tough, because sometimes life likes to play with us, I promise to always see the best in you and fight for us.” With hands far steadier than I thought they’d be, I take out the velvet box from my pocket. Getting down on one knee, I open the box, and her gasps echo around us. “I knew the moment I met you that you were the one. There was this instant, invisible string that tied our souls together when I helped you on the stairs. Now that I finally have you back, I can’t go another second without having my ring on your finger, without claiming you as mine, and me as yours. Will you marry me?”

She collapses to her knees in front of me and grabs my face in her hands. “Yes, yes, yes, a billion times yes.” She kisses me as if engraving her answer on my lips one letter at a time.

The kiss fractures me, every feeling I've ever known exploding in a supernova of light. In the blinding brilliance, I see only her, a love so fierce it breaks me atom by atom, only to reform me stronger, each fragment held together by the unyielding force of her adoration.

Love is too simple of a word for what we have. It’s a mere whisper, whereasthisis a roar that’s all-consuming. As if the universe weaved our souls together in something that transcends all possible definitions and time.

I wrap my arms around her and stand, lifting her inthe process. Her legs lock around my waist, and I keep kissing her, prolonging this moment of pure joy. She gasps again when my hands work their way under her dress and trace the edge of her thong. My thumb brushes against her clit and she lifts her hips, chasing my touch. I draw three circles around it, slowly, as if we have all the time in the world, before trailing my thumb further down to her slit. Her thong is already soaked through, and we haven’t even started.

I drag myself away from her lips and say, “I love how wet you are for me.”

“More kissing, less talking.” She grips the back of my head and pulls me to her lips, as if she can’t bear to be separated from me for mere words. As if she’s feeling everything I’m feeling.

I toy with the edge of her silky thong, the only thing separating me from having my way with her. Pressing onto the material, I work my finger inside of her, thong and all coming along for the ride.

She moans and I hum my approval in her mouth. I back us up until her shoulders hit the floor-to-ceiling windows. One-handed, I unbutton my pants and pull them down just enough to free my cock. A sharp tug and her thong rips at the hips. I pocket the material and rub my dick up and down her slit.

She pulls on my hair, and I drag myself away from her lips.

“What if someone comes in?” she asks.

“Who the fuck cares? I need to fuck my wife.”

“Your almost wife,” she teases, but I hate the sound ofalmostin that sentence.

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