Page 130 of Crown of Thorns
We walk. The leaves crunch underfoot. Somewhere in the distance, someone screams and someone laughs, and it all feels like static.
“I meant it,” he adds. “What I said. About you.”
I nod, throat burning.
He turns to me, eyes wild and wet and defiant. “Let’s go home. And don’t make me beg again.”
I grin, teeth sharp. “I wouldn’t dare.”
He may have killed for justice. But he killed for me too. And I’ll never fucking forget it.
He pulls me in, no warning, no hesitation, and kisses me like we’ve survived a war. Because we have. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate and raw and perfect.
I kiss him back just as hard. Just to remind him.
He’s mine now.
Always has been.
EPILOGUE
“Check this out.” Louis shows me the construction photos. “They’ve finished framing the entire house. It’s going to be so pretty!”
“It’s a little too early to tell, right? The only thing I see is metal and wood.”
Louis pinches my waist, and I jolt, making the water ripple softly around us. “Boring.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“That’s what I’m saying, boring.”
I huff but press Louis’s back closer to my chest, the back of his head nestled in the crook of my throat. His wet, black hair is plastered to his face, and his cheek is stuck against mine. My cock is buried deep inside his ass.
The open doors invite in more chilly wind, rustling through the curtains, but unable to reach us because the hot water comes up to our shoulders, cocooning us blissfully. The faint scent of the city drifts through, a mingling of rain and concrete that somehow feels comforting here. Somewhere outside, a street violinist plays a low, haunting tune. Paris humming to itself as if it knows we’re here.
In the corner of the hotel room stands our luggage cart, filled with bags and more after our extensive Christmas shopping. Louis has outdone himself. After he spent the first ten thousand euros, I couldn’t watch it anymore.
I’m still not used to his love for spending money, nor his spending power. The family pays me a monthly allowance, but I haven’t touched a penny of it yet. My salary is enough to pay the bills, and Louis is enough to keep me happy.
More than happy.
We started planning our home a few months ago, and judging by the daily updates he shows me, workers haven’t stopped ever since.
“It’s going to be so pretty,” Louis sighs.
“Not as pretty as you.” To prove my point, I rock upwards, making him moan.
The phone slips out of his hand and clatters to the floor. Another blast makes the curtains flutter, dragging our gazes back to the marvelous view of the Eiffel Tower. It sits right ahead of our hotel terrace, close enough to revel in its beauty, far enough to believe the illusion of seclusion as if we are the only ones here, in the city of love.
The city of found love and reclaimed souls.
“You are the most precious of them all.”
Louis hums, the silver bracelet flickering in the air when he brings his hand to my face and cups my cheek, thumb grazing my skin like he’s memorizing me all over again. It’s the present I gave him when we made our relationship official, the one I kept hidden in my drawer for months, terrified he’d laugh, terrified he wouldn’t. But when I finally slipped it on his wrist, he cried. Just once. Just enough.
He never takes it off.
“My one and only.”
