Page 133 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
“Cartier.”
“Ah. Well. In any case, this might be a good time to mention that I’ve already told you I’m not ready for an institution.”
Parker’s smile is not one of a man who thinks his proposal has just been refused.
“Fair enough. I’ll ask again in the morning. Things always seem better in the morning.”
“Oh, really? Does this mean you’re inviting yourself to spend the night? Whatever will we do with ourselves?”
His lids drop, and his voice comes out husky. “Well, I could try to make you see the true face of God.”
My heartbeat, which had settled down to more reasonable levels, immediately skyrockets into the stratosphere again. “Now you’re talking, Mr. Maxwell.”
“I’m glad you agree, my beautiful Bel.”
Before I can start to cry again, Parker kisses me hard, swallowing the sob of joy rising from my throat.
Our clothes come off with such speed it’s almost magic. We fall on each other in desperation, clutching and moaning, stroking and sighing, our mouths as greedy as our hands. Months of separation are erased in an instant.
Just as Parker is about to slide inside me, a loud, screeching howl brings us both to a stop.
Sitting in the bedroom doorway, Perdón glares at us in disgust.
“Shut up or I’ll make a rug out of you, buddy,” Parker pants, craning his head over his shoulder.
I take his face in my hands and turn it back to mine. I kiss him, putting every atom of my heart and soul into it, and then murmur, “I think you can focus for a few minutes, love.”
Hearing that word on my lips makes Parker’s eyes come alive. He gazes at me in adoration. A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.
I add, “I mean, if I have to ignore that flaccid cowlick under your nose every time you kiss me, you can certainly ignore my cat.”
“Flaccid? Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” he breathes, flexing his hips.
I feel him between my legs, hot and hard, and my laugh is throaty. “Promises, promises,” I reply, and pull his head down to kiss him voraciously once more.
EPILOGUE
A few years later
“It’s going to be fine, baby.”
I stare out the window, watching houses and trees and cars flash by in the bright spring day, seeing nothing. “I know.”
Parker reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You don’t look like you know.”
I gulp a few deep breaths, trying to slow my heartbeat. I squeeze Parker’s hand so hard he chuckles.
“Sweetheart.”
I look over at him in the driver’s seat. He’s smiling. His eyes are wonderfully soft. “I promise you, it’s going to be fine. OK?”
My brow furrows. In a tiny voice, I say, “But what if it isn’t?”
He says firmly, “It will be.”
“Think of everything that could go wrong!”
He shakes his head. “Think of everything that could go right.”
