Page 51 of Entrapped
My heart raced, and I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper. “About how much has changed… about how much you’ve changed.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “For the better, I hope,” he teased lightly, though his eyes remained serious.
I nodded, feeling the lump in my throat grow. “Yes, for the better. You’ve been so different, Colson. More caring, more… present. And it’s made me realize just how much you mean to me.”
His smile widened, and he pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You mean the world to me too, Joey. It’s been almost thirteen years since Poppy died to find someone who could be as sweet as she was…” he murmured.
The warmth in his voice emboldened me, and I took the leap. “I love you, Colson,” I confessed, my voice trembling as I finally let the words out.
For a moment, he was silent, and the world seemed to hang in the balance. My heart pounded in my chest, fear and hopewarring within me. But then, he cupped my face in his hands, his eyes filled with an emotion I hadn’t seen before—a depth of feeling that took my breath away.
“I love you too, Joey,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Relief and joy flooded through me, and I couldn’t help the tears that welled up in my eyes. He brushed them away with his thumbs, kissing me softly, tenderly, as if sealing our unspoken promise to each other.
The snow continued to fall outside, a blanket of purity covering the world, and in that moment, everything felt right. I was home—in his arms, in his love—and I knew that whatever the future held, we would face it together.
Colson had spared no expense for our first Christmas together as husband and wife. He’d transformed the estate into a winter wonderland, hiring a crew to adorn every corner with festive decorations. A fifteen-foot balsam fir dominated the foyer, while a ten-foot tree graced the living room, both glittering with lights and ornaments. It was picture-perfect, but beneath the surface, I was anything but calm.
The day before Christmas, I insisted on dismissing the staff early so they could spend the holiday with their families. My mother and I would handle the cooking, with Simone helping us. I hadn’t shared the dark truth about Simone with my mother—the fall down the stairs, the drugs in my lemonade. I wasn’t sure how I would manage to work alongside her, but for the sake of our families, I had to try.
Over the past two weeks, at Colson’s urging, I’d indulged in lavish shopping sprees, buying gifts for everyone. Colson had also been negotiating the purchase of a five-bedroom triplex in Manhattan. The thought of living in the city thrilled me, even though the timing felt strange with so much else going on.
On Christmas Eve morning, I was in the kitchen, ticking off items from my list. It was my last chance to pick up anything we might have forgotten. My mother had been a godsend, helping me navigate the logistics of feeding everyone.
Colson walked in as I reviewed the list, his presence immediately commanding my attention. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.
“Just checking the list one last time,” I replied without looking up. “I want to make sure we have everything.”
He moved closer, nuzzling my ear. His breath was warm against my skin, and he gently pried the pad and pen from my hands, tossing them onto the counter. “Colson!” I protested, half-heartedly. “I’m working. We only have a few hours before all the stores close.”
He ignored my protest, biting playfully into my ear. “I can have a fully cooked meal delivered,” he whispered. “You don’t need to do anything.”
“I want to,” I insisted, though my resolve was weakening with every touch.
His hand slipped inside my yoga pants, and I let out a soft gasp, torn between duty and desire. “Let me fuck you,” he murmured, his voice rough with need.
“Colson, I have so much to do,” I whined, even as I felt my resistance crumbling.
He tugged my pants down, baring me to the cool air. I shivered as his fingers found their way inside me, making me gasp. “You’re wet, Joey. Why are you wet?” His voice was a low, seductive growl.
The truth was that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he looked, the way he touched me—it consumed my thoughts more often than I cared to admit. “No reason. It’s just hormonal,” I lied, my voice breathless.
He chuckled darkly, not buying it for a second. “When will your mother be here?” he demanded, his fingers slipping away, replaced by the hard length of him pressing against me.
“In half an hour,” I managed to say, my voice barely more than a whimper.
The jingle of his belt buckle was the only warning I had before he entered me, swift and deep. “Hold onto the counter, Josephine,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I gripped the cold stone, the surface grounding me as he set a relentless pace, his hips slamming into mine. The sensation was almost too much, a mixture of pain and pleasure that left me breathless. “I wish I could strip you bare and take you upstairs,” he groaned, his hands on my breasts, squeezing them through my shirt.
“Tonight,” I promised, my voice hitching with each thrust.
“I was hoping to get you pregnant before the new year,” he confessed, his breath hot against my neck as he leaned into me.
My mind spun at his words, the idea of being pregnant with his child both thrilling and terrifying. But there was no time to dwell on it as his thrusts grew more urgent, his need driving him harder into me.
Then, the door chimed. My heart skipped a beat as the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall.
