Page 80 of Beloved Beauty

His brow lifts, a slow grin curving. “Seems like only yesterday. But also… a lifetime ago.”

“The sexual tension was so thick, you couldn’t cut it with a machete.”

“You stood over there—back against the corner—like I might bite.”

“You were dangerous.”

“And you,” he says, voice dipping, “told me you were going to climb me like a tree.”

I tilt my head, faux-innocent. “I don’t recall saying that.”

“Maybe I’m confusing what you said with what you did.”

I smirk. “Well, you’re half right. I climbed you like a tree.”

He leans in, mouth grazing my ear, breath warm. “I hope you do it again.”

Heat slides through me. “You trying to rush me out of this dress already?”

His hand settles at the small of my back. The tension in him is nearly tangible—the restraint, the hunger held barely at bay.

“I think I’ve been patient all night,” he says. “But the second these elevator doors open, all bets are off.”

My lips curve. “Good. Because I need help out of this dress.” I rise on my toes, brushing my lips against his jaw. “I have something very special for you.”

His eyes darken, mouth tugging into a smile. “You’re gonna ruin me tonight, aren’t you?”

“Planning to,” I whisper.

I laugh—quiet, breathless—my train pooled around our feet. He cups my jaw, tipping my chin up. We don’t kiss. Not yet. We just look at each other, and it’s heavier than any kiss could be. As if this moment in this elevator––hearts racing and hands roaming and skin buzzing—isn’t foreplay enough.

The elevator dings. Doors part.

Daddy’s home.

Alex’s eyes don’t leave mine. “Ready?”

I nod, heart tripping in my chest. “Ready.”

Alex steps forward first and turns to me. Without a word, he bends and sweeps me up into his arms. “Not our house, but I’m keeping with tradition.”

I loop my arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to the line of his jaw. “You’re setting the bar high, Mr. Sebring.”

He carries me across the threshold into the suite. Soft candlelight flickers across every surface, and low music drifts through the space.

The world quiets just for us.

Dim, golden light spills through the penthouse, humming softly with the music from my wedding night playlist I created months ago—strings, slow and sultry, beneath soulful vocals.

Romantic, passionate, intimate.

The scent hits next—gardenia, vanilla, honey, and wine. I inhale it all in one breath, heart tight in my chest.

Alex lowers me to my feet, and I turn, eyes taking in what Violet and the girls have done for us.

There are candles everywhere. Flickering on windowsills, scattered across side tables, tucked into glass votives by the bed.

The bed has been transformed.

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