Page 185 of Money Reigns
“Happy birthday, my sweet girl,” I say softly, setting the plate on the nightstand so I can lean in and press kisses across her face. Her temple. Her cheek. Her lips.
She laughs softly, voice still heavy with sleep. “War…”
“Blow it out,” I say against her mouth.
She sits up, hair mussed and perfect, and leans over the candle. Her lips part, a breath, and the flame snuffs out in smoke.
I take the plate back, set it aside, and tip her chin up. “What’d you wish for?”
Her smile tilts, sly and secret. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
I chuckle, low in my chest. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll get it anyway. Whatever it is.” My thumb strokes along her jaw, steady, reverent. “Because I’ll make sure you get whatever you want for the rest of your life.”
Her eyes soften, and something in my chest pulls taut.
I’ve had everything. Power. Money. Sky-high glass towers with my name on them. But nothing—nothing,has ever filled me likethis woman curled in my bed, candle smoke still hanging in the air between us.
I've had women in my bed, in my head, butneverlike this. Never in the space between my heartbeats.
She’s perfect.
And for the first time in my life, so is everything else.
My heart has never felt this full.
Life has never felt this good.
She swings her legs out of bed, stretching with a sleepy sigh, and pads toward the bathroom. I pull open the closet, and slide a hanger free, laying her blouse across the duvet, smoothing the fabric flat with my palm. Her skirt follows. Stockings. The soft click of her heels as I set them neatly at the foot of the bed.
Behind me, the sink starts running. The muted scrape of her toothbrush against her teeth. I picture her in the mirror, mouth full of foam, hair mussed from sleep, and my chest tightens.
“We’ll leave work early,” I call, my voice carrying through the sound of running water. “Two instead of four. Come back here, get ready, and I’m taking you out for the best evening.”
The faucet clicks off. Silence. Then the faint swish of the brush against porcelain, the metallic clang of it being set down.
I straighten the skirt with a precise tug, fingers dragging across the fabric like every crease offends me.
I chuckle under my breath, thinking of the theater at the estate. Staff already prepped, the screen queued with the little film we made. Maybe we’ll make another. I want her to watch herself, watch that perfect face go soft and desperate when I’m deep inside her.
“War…”
Her voice pulls me out of the thought.
She’s leaning in the doorway, brushing her hair, the strands catching the light as they fall over her shoulder. Her eyes are cautious, soft.
“I don’t want a big thing tonight,” she says. “Just us. No fancy restaurant, no—”
I cross the room in three strides, catch her wrist before she can lower the brush, and hush her with a kiss. Slow. Sure. My mouth sealing over hers until the rest of her protest dissolves into a sigh against my lips.
When I pull back, I press my forehead to hers, my hand sliding down to rest against the dip of her waist.
“Get dressed, sweet girl. We’ll work, and then tonight isjust us.Me celebrating another year of the most beautiful woman being alive.”
She rolls her eyes, but the pink rising in her cheeks betrays her. She tries to turn back, but I catch her chin, make her look at me.
“Okay,” she murmurs, cheeks warm, lips curved as she trails her fingers down the hard line of my jaw. The touch is light, but it jolts through me like a live wire. My pulse kicks, brutal and fast.
“Thank you. I love you.”
