Page 75 of Conflagration
This is love.
This is my new life. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.
THE NEXT morning, I wake up to find a steaming mug of coffee on the nightstand next to me but no fiancé. We’re going to have a serious talk about this whole leaving-the-bed-before-I’m-awake business. Grinning to myself, I push back the covers and get out of bed. I pick up my mug and go in search of him, following the sounds of rock music. It leads me to his office, where he’s wearing a pair of reading glasses and peering at the screen, looking sexy as hell.
Leaning against the doorframe, I place a hand on my hips and set a glare on my face. “If this union is going to work, we seriously need to discuss our Sunday morning routines. Sundays are lazy days. Days made for cuddling and lovemaking for hours. This is a deal breaker. If you can’t agree to those terms, then we have a severe problem on our hands.”
His eyes darken and he beckons for me to join him behind his desk. Lifting my chin, I refuse to budge from my spot. Heat sizzles between us during our stare down, neither of us giving in. The longer his eyes pierce mine, the more I want to waver and go to him. Just as my resolve is about to break, he pushes his chair back and rises, placing both fists on the desk as he leans towards me.
“If you’d stop sleeping until ten a.m., maybe I’d stay in bed with you,” he growls, but I can see the smile he’s trying to hide.
“Well, if you wouldn’t keep me up all hours of the night, perhaps I wouldn’t be such a sack of lazy bones the next day.”
“Well, excuse me. Would you like to file a complaint? I’d hate to continue such horrendous behavior,” he says in a pretentious tone.
“Of course not. My only complaint is waking up without you. I vaguely recall you having a similar grievance once, and I never did it again. I’d appreciate the same courtesy.”
With a sigh, he sits back in his chair. “Okay, you’ve got me there. Come here,” he says, holding an arm out.
Knowing this game is over, I round the desk and take a seat on his lap, placing my mug on the desk.
He gestures towards the screen. “I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d go ahead and start looking into our trip.”
My nose wrinkles as I peer at the screen. “Our trip? Where are we going?” I ask, completely confused until I see ‘Las Vegas’ on the screen.
“Last night, you said you wanted to elope. I figured, why wait?”
Laughter bubbles up inside me, and I turn to look at him, pressing my forehead to his. “Oh, Branson. You’re too sweet,” I murmur, placing quick pecks on his lips as I shake my head. “But no, we’re not eloping.”
He pulls back, seemingly puzzled. “We’re not? But I thought—”
I cut him off as I place a finger to his lips. “I know what I said, and I love how eager you are to make it happen. Trust me. I’m just as enthusiastic, but I was joking.”
“You were?” he asks, and I can’t tell if he’s relieved or disappointed.
“Yes. As much as I want to marry you today, I want to have a wedding day. Our wedding day. I want to pick out my dress and walk down the aisle towards you. I want our closest friends and family there. I want to argue for hours over what song we’re going to dance to. We’re spending the rest of our lives together, and as much as the next three months are going to drag, it’ll be so worth it in the end.”
His hand comes up to cup the back of my neck. “If you tell anyone I said this, I’ll deny it, but I want all that, too. It’s all I could think about at Knox’s wedding, how I wished it were ours, and I don’t think I’d be satisfied with eloping.”
“Then it’s settled. A December wedding,” I say, and he nods.
“Plus, I look forward to the moment I stand behind you and slide down the zipper on your dress before making love for the first time to my wife.” His hot breath tickles my neck as he says the last word, sending shivers down my spine.
“I like the sound of that,” I whisper.
“Then I guess we’d better start practicing,” he responds, picking me up and carrying me down the hall before he throws me down on our bed and crawls on top of me. “After all, it is a lazy Sunday.”
Slow, languid, lazy kisses turn to slow, languid, lazy lovemaking, and I make a mental note to include lazy Sundays in my vows. Three more months and then he’s mine forever. What could possibly go wrong?
IT’S BEEN two weeks since I’ve been back to work full time, and it’s kicking my ass. Trying to find a balance between work and home has proven to be difficult. Ariana’s given me the okay to work at home whenever necessary, claiming that she doesn’t mind as long as I don’t go overboard, but I don’t allow myself to bring work home. When I sign off my account at the end of the day, I turn off my business phone and try not to give work another thought. It’s not always easy, but I’m managing and becoming more used to it.
But the last thing I want to think about when I’m with her is work, and I refuse to revert to the man I was before. The one who valued his career above everything else. She’s the most important part of my life, and our marriage will always be number one to me. No CEO title will ever change that. As I begin to delegate my responsibilities, I feel the noose loosen a little around my neck, yet I still feel guilty at the same time.
I’m knee-deep in a new account when I hear a knock on my door, surprised to see my dad sticking his head in my office.
“Son, do you have a minute? I didn’t mean to barge in, but Caroline’s not at her desk and no one answered the phone.”
Glancing at the time, I see that it’s after noon and wince, having lost track of time. “She must be at lunch. Come on in and have a seat.” I set the file aside and sit back. “What’s up?”
