Page 17 of Tales of Obsession Epilogue
Afterward, I turned my face to brush my lips against his. “Just so you know, I didn’t run away from you.”
“Says the woman who blocked me for hours.”
“I wanted to surprise you with a few things, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if you showed up,” I said innocently. “After all, I mostly shopped for you and our home.” That part was true, other than the items I bought for Poppy and Arya.
His hold around my waist tightened. “Next time, I’ll go with you.”
I laughed. “You want to go shopping? You’ll be bored out of your mind.”
“I’m never bored when I’m with you.”
A slow, shy smile crept onto my face. “I’m never bored when I’m with you, either.”
His eyes glinted when I looked back at him. “You won’t run away from me again?”
I sighed. “That was years ago, Axel. When will you let it go?”
“Any day now.”
I gave him a forlorn look.
“You promised to be a willing prisoner once you came back to me. Running away isn’t very willing.”
“Again, shopping and running away are two different things.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re my willing prisoner until the day you die.” He thought about it for a moment. “And even after you die.”
I laughed. “Fine, you lunatic. I’ll be yours until the day I die and for all the time after.”
Because I belonged to him in life and in death.
And for the seven lifetimes that came after.
Chapter
Seven
POPPY
NEW YEAR’S EVE
It wasNew Year’s Eve and our anniversary. Mom was sad not to be invited to our wedding. To be honest, I was barely conscious for it myself. When she suggested an anniversary slash vow renewal, the idea didn’t make me want to hurl. It would be all right to create new memories around our wedding day, one where I was upright, and our daughter was in attendance.
What I hadn’t expected was for Damon to corner me just as I went into my old bedroom to change. This detour wasn’t a part of the program.
“What happened to not seeing the bride before the wedding?” I panted against his palm, which was doing a piss-poor job of muffling my moans.
I tried to angle away from him, but he wasn’t having any of that. He dropped his hand and wrapped it around my middle instead. Not that he needed to secure me in place—my wrist was handcuffed to his left hand.
Damon chuckled lowly against my ear. “You’re already my bride. Besides, I’ll be in a bad mood if anyone else sees you before me.”
The hand plunged lower, delving beneath my black satin gown—I opted for the same dress from our Las Vegas wedding—and between my thighs.
“But you’ve already seen me in this dress. I married you in this dress.”
“I still want to be the first person to see you in it today.”
He didn’t give a shit about the dress. It was wrinkled by now, lewdly and haphazardly bunched around my hips. Damon was irritated by our lack of intimacy ever since Arya entered the picture. As much as he loved our daughter, he wasn’t a fan of sharing me with her.
