by Skyla Madi
“You can take me home.” I turn my back and slide my arms into my coat, letting Caleb push it over my shoulders and hug me from behind, burying his face into my neck, pushing his hips against my back.
“Do you want to sleep at Wade’s?”
My stomach turns, and I shake my head. There’s no way I’m setting foot in that apartment building again.
“There’s nowhere to sleep at our place. I have furniture coming in the next few days—”
“I’d rather sleep on the floor than go anywhere near that building again.”
He blows an impatient air out of his nose. “Fine. I’ve got a big box of blankets in the van. We can lay them out and pray we don’t get back pain.”
Content with the fact we’re not going back to Wade’s building, we walk hand in hand and it feels…right. Perfect. With my fingers threaded with his, it’s easy not to think about the material items I lost or the fact the van is supposed to be filled with all my belongings, ready for their new home. Instead, I focus on the fact it’s filled with the only things I want, the only things I need…
Love and Caleb. I love this naughty, tall, broad-shouldered, Satan-in-a-Sunday-hat of mine, the man who led me deep into temptation and delivered us into a new life.
Together.
Epilogue
C A L E B
Two years later…
Leaning forward, I glance up through the windscreen at the high rises of Phoenix where we’ll spend our first night as a married couple. Husband and wife. I’ve been referring to her as my wife for the last two years of our relationship, but now it’s official. She’s Cassia Andrews.
How the hell did that happen?
Our wedding was big and extravagant, the desert wedding of her dreams, complete with big white gazebos with flowing white fabric and fire pits that seemed to burn brighter against the clear, dusky backdrop. It was the perfect day to make her my wife.
I don’t remember much. I can’t recall how the tables were dressed or how tall the cake stood, but the sweetheart ballgown wedding dress wrapped around her perfect body will never leave my brain. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her, my glowing, impossibly sexy bride, and as often as our gazes met, I’d say she couldn’t keep hers off me either.
The ceremony took place in my father’s church, like I promised Agnes, the rest of it celebrated outside in the cool, summer evening’s breeze on a desert landscape.
“What about a studio in Phoenix?” Cassia wonders aloud, peering out of her window.
I arch an eyebrow and spare her a quick glance as she looks at me. God. She’s beautiful with the top half of her blonde hair pinned back like that, the rest spread over her shoulder in gentle waves. She took the pink out of her hair a few days after the incident with Nick—a lifetime ago now.
Cassia laughs, exposing her flawless white teeth. “You’re right. It’s way too close to our parents.”
“Way too close.” I scratch my head. “How expensive is commercial real estate in Canada?”
She laughs, but I’m not joking. Not really. If I have to sit through one more conversation with her mother about grandchildren, I just might.
Up ahead, I pull into the temporary parking of the hotel, run inside, and check in. They give me all the cards, bells, and whistles we need during our two days stay, including a cardkey for the underground parking. I waste no time in making use of our parking space and rush Cassia up to our floor as quickly as I can. We need to get naked.
We need to get naked now.
Blowing fabric away from my lip, I carry her in my arms, and people giggle and congratulate us as I walk by. In my arms, her fluffy tulle-ish skirt nearly swallows her up, making her look like a giant snowball.
“Fuck, yes,” I cheer, spotting our door.
“Someone’s eager.”
She has no idea. As soon as I cross that threshold, she’s mine. I run through some quick scenarios in my head. Do I slowly peel her out of the dress? Make her take it off for me? Rip it right down the damn middle? I’m only ever going to take off my wife’s wedding dress once. I need to do it right. I want her to flush and squeeze her thighs together whenever she thinks about our wedding night and what we did.
“Do you plan on keeping the dress?” I ask, awkwardly pressing the flat of my door card against the scanner underneath Cassia’s ass.
She looks at me incredulously. “Yes.”
Damn it. There’s a beep from the door, and it sounds positive, so I push on the handle. Cassia makes an excited noise in her throat as the door opens, and I kick it with my shoe and waltz us inside. When it clicks closed, I set her down, and then I’m all fucking over her. I grab her face and press her against the hall wall, swallowing her gasp and filling her open mouth with my eager tongue. Her taste erupts in my mouth, a combination of mint and cake. She ate a lot of wedding cake and I watched, helplessly, as she sucked icing from the tip of her index finger. It turned me on so much I called the hotel not long after and had them put a slice of cake in our mini-bar. White chocolate with white buttercream frosting and a small cup of strawberries, but that’s for later.
Cassia dips a little, so I wrap my arm around her waist and hold her up, tight against me. Against the wall, she lifts a leg and angles it to the side, opening enough for me to slip between them.
“Mm.” She breaks the kiss, resting her forehead against mine. “Wait…”
I pull my head back. Cassia opens her eyes, revealing sparkling irises under her lusty lids. Her cheeks are kissed pink, her pretty lips red and swollen from my hard kiss.
“Before we do that, I have a gift for you,” she tells me, and my lips quirk as she takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom.
Inside the dimly lit room, sitting on the bed, surrounded by rose petals, is a tiny easel and an even smaller canvas. On the palette in front, are two shades—black and white—and to the right, there’s an envelope with my name on it. I tilt my head, confused. It’s certainly not the Shibari rope and flogger I was hoping for. I step toward the bed for a closer look at her gift.
“I want you to paint something for me.”
Her gift to me is more work for me to do? Laughing, I grab the canvas and measure it against my crotch. “Can I use a bigger canvas? Because I’m not going to be able to fit all my dick on here.”
Cursing, she swats at me, then hands me the envelope. “You send me enough photos of your junk. I don’t need you to paint it too.”
Smirking, I return the canvas to the easel and open the envelope. My heart stutters painfully in my chest, then races, beating loudly in my ears. What am I looking at? A perfect black rectangle evenly fills the white card. Along the top, reads Cassia’s name, her old surname first, followed by her date of birth. In the middle of the black rectangle, there’s a jelly bean.
A human jelly bean.
“Is this…” I look at her, and her eyes are lambent with tears, her lips nervously pursed as she bites the inside of her lip. “You’re…”
I glance at her tummy, then pull out the card to get a closer look. Gestational age: 6 weeks. Expected due date: 31st May. What is happening? This is inside her? My baby?
“I know it’s not a part of your plan, that you wanted to wait a few more years, but—”
“We’re having a baby?” I ask her.
She nods, and it triggers a ballooning in my chest. It’s swelling painfully with emotion…with…with pride. We’re going to have to move, somewhere safer, somewhere our baby can have her own room—or his. Jesus. I’m going to be a dad?
I take Cassia’s face in my hands and kiss her, tenderly this time. How is this my life? A few years ago, I was trapped in the numbing dark, ready to end it all. Yesterday, we were engaged to be married, and today, she’s my wife and the mother of my unborn child? I’m fucking awed. I might not believe in God, not entirely, but I believe in her. I believe everything happens for a reason, even if that’s a bitter pill for me to swallow sometimes. I believe in soulmates, that she was made for me, to fit m
e and only me. She came into my life when I needed her the most and, with a beautiful, perfect smile, she tethered my heart to hers.
I love Cassia undoubtedly, wholeheartedly, enthusiastically.
And I’ll love her forever.
“Every heart sings a song, incomplete,
until another heart whispers back.
Those who wish to sing always find a song.
At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes
a poet.”
—Plato
The End
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Skyla Madi is an Australian writer from Brisbane, Queensland.
Skyla started her writing career fresh out of high school and at 21 she is a giver of both real and fictional life.
She is an aquarian, lover of the written word and author of the #1 BESTSELLING Consumed trilogy.
Skyla LOVES to hear from readers! Here are some of ways to get into contact with her:
FACEBOOK:
https://www.facebook.com/SkylaMadi
TWITTER:
https://twitter.com/Skyla_Madi
GOODREADS
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6554179.Skyla_Madi
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