The realization that someone she’d considered a friend had betrayed them both like that quaked through her. But to her surprise, the bitterness that usually rushed in when someone she cared about let her down didn’t overwhelm her. Instead, her heart was full of concern for the man standing in front of her.
“Are you okay?” She almost reached for him then, but she stopped herself just in time. “What’s going to happen to Soteria?”
For a man who might have just lost his life’s work, his shrug was more laissez-faire than she’d expected. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve got other options in the works, and I’ll land on my feet. I didn’t stick around to sort through the details. I had something more important to do.”
Vivienne’s heart melted at the look in his steely blue eyes. The meaning behind his words, as evidenced by the fact he was here now. With her.
“How’d you find me?” The words scraped her throat.
“I hacked your phone.”
His self-effacing smile nearly sent her to her knees. God, she’d missed him so much.
“Since not tracking you was the only promise I ever made you that I kept, I thought maybe if I blew that one up too, we could start over. Try this again without all the baggage.”
Something inside her cracked open, and all the hope she’d buried so deeply when she’d fled here at twenty-two bloomed in her chest, riotous and colorful, like the bed of tiger lilies she’d planted all those years ago.
“You remember how you said we’re good at sex and bad at communication?”
Viv bit her lip, nodded.
“I didn’t catch Jesse because I outwitted him or because of my coding skills. I figured it out because of you. Because we finally talked to each other. And I am so fucking sorry I walked out after you told me what happened.”
Wes’s forehead creased slightly, as if he was searching for the right words to say. As if he didn’t understand that he’d already found them.
“If you hadn’t shared what you went through with me, he might have gotten away with it. But he didn’t. And that got me thinking about us. About what we’ve been through. I know things didn’t work out between us last time...”
He trailed off, and the silence was overwhelming. She took a step forward because she needed to be closer to him. “Last time isn’t this time.”
Wes nodded at the assessment. “Well, in that case, I’ve got a question to ask you.”
The air got thick and hard to breathe as Wes reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. He took her left hand in his, and it was like plugging into an electrical socket. Her skin came alive. Her heart thudded against her ribs.
But that was nothing compared to the jolt of unfiltered emotion that buzzed through her when he lowered himself onto one knee in front of her.
The tears she’d held back earlier spilled freely down her cheeks now.
“Vivienne Amelie Brennan, I am desperately in love with you. Even when I’m trying really hard not to be. And if you’re up for it, I thought we could give this another try, because I want to spend the rest of my life being good at sex and good at communication with you.”
Her heart squeezed as she watched him slide the ring, her ring, back onto her finger. She looked into the eyes of the man who had seen all of her—the good and the bad—and yet he’d flown across the country anyway. Because he loved her.
“So, what do you say? Want to stay married to me?”
Viv was nodding before he’d finished the question, and he surged to his feet, catching her around the waist and lifting her up as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and whispered her answer against the soft, warm skin of his neck. “I do.”
When he finally set her back on her feet, Vivienne stared up at her husband. Having him with her, here at the Phoenix Inn, where she’d endured so much sadness, went a long way to making her heart feel whole again. “I love you so much,” she confessed through the emotion clogging her throat.
Tenderly, Wes pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Vivienne stood there in his embrace, letting it all sink in. But as was often the case in Wes’s presence, it didn’t take long before the heat of him worked its way into her blood, morphing the sweet relief of having him here into the sultry desire to have him naked.
“I don’t want to alarm you,” she teased, even as she pressed closer, stoking the fire between them, “but we may have officially crossed into old married couple status.”
Wes looked down at her with sham horror. His fingers dug into her hips, and she could feel his body start to harden. “I’m not taking the blame for that. You’re the reason we’re at a bed-and-breakfast right now, instead of somewhere sexy.”
He backed her up against the railing, and the press of his growing erection against her stomach gave the porch some triple-X street cred in her books.
She slipped her hands beneath his jacket and ran her hands up his chest. “Sure, but you’re the one who sealed our true love vow with a forehead kiss.”
He pressed his lips to the edge of her jaw, and her head fell back, granting him better access. “You’re right,” he conceded, wringing a low moan from her as he worked his way down her neck with soft, openmouthed kisses.
“We’d better do something dirty, stat.” He rocked his hips against hers and her knees went weak. “Breathe a little life back into this dying relationship. Do they have an elevator?”
She shook her head with faux solemnity as she loosened his tie. “Afraid not.”
“How about a sturdy kitchen table?” he asked, as the button on her jeans went slack.
“They do, but it’s in a communal area.”
His naughty grin made her heart stutter. “Since when has that ever stopped us?”
“This is a respectable bed-and-breakfast, sir. Not some sexy West Coast taqueria where people get freaky in public.”
“Then I guess we’d better get to your room before I can’t control myself anymore.”
Vivienne shrieked with surprised laughter as he swept her off her feet and into his arms. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you over the threshold so I can have my way with you.”
She snuggled against his chest, the ring on her finger glinting as she started unbuttoning his shirt. “Because you’re so desperately in love with me?”
Wes shoved the door out of their way in his quest for her bedroom.
“Guilty as charged.”
EPILOGUE
One Year Later...
“COME HERE, BABY.”
Vivienne smiled to herself as Wes stepped close behind her and dropped a kiss to her exposed shoulder.
“You know I don’t know which one of us you’re talking to when you say that, right?”
His arms came around her to cradle the six months’ worth of baby bump she’d crammed into a red floor-length gown to celebrate the official launch of Wes and AJ’s new joint venture, DBS Security.
“I was talking to the kid. But since you’re here, too, what do you say we get out of here?”
“This is your party,” she reminded him, motioning toward the glittering crowd schmoozing in Liam Kearney’s palatial Beverly Hills mansion. “The who’s who of the wealthy business elite are here to celebrate, and be wooed by, you. Look. There’s Aidan Beckett, right over there. I thought it was your mission in life to land him as a client.”
Wes tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer so her back was laminated to the front of him. “I mean, I probably shouldn’t show AJ up at our launch party by scoring a bigger client than her. Especially not in her own house.” He nuzzled her ear, and her knees went a little woozy. “I’ll get Kaylee to introduce me to him next week, at Max and Emma’s engagement party.”
“Prioritizing getting laid over getting clients?” Vivienne’s head lolled back against his shoulder as he worke
d his lips down her neck. “That can’t be good for business.”
“True, but if we stay and I have to explain DBS stands for ‘don’t be sloppy’ to one more person, I might lose it, and that won’t be good for business either. I never should have let AJ name the company.” Wes’s hand slipped up her torso, skating dangerously close to her breast, making her crave more pressure there.
“So how about you save me from myself and we go check out how swanky Kearney’s bathroom is?”
Vivienne feigned shock, even as the promise of sex slid along her spine and pooled low in her gut. “You want to have your way with me while my boss is right over there?”
Wes followed her gaze toward Max Whitfield. His dark head was bent close to his fiancée’s blond one. An intimate smile dawned on Emma’s face in response to whatever he’d said, and she reached up and wrapped her fingers around the man’s tie, tugging him even closer.
“Yeah, he definitely gives a shit that I’m dying to ravage you. Those two are going to beat us to the upstairs bathroom if we don’t get a move on.” His voice rumbled through her, and she couldn’t quite hold back her moan as he caught the edge of her earlobe between his teeth and gave it a slight tug.
“Like you’re going to be able to lift me onto the counter,” she teased, turning to face him and looping her arms around his neck. “Though I suppose the slit in this dress is immodest enough that we could make doggy-style work.”
His eyes darkened at the suggestion. “And I thought you were horny before you got pregnant.” His large palm landed with a muted smack on the curve of her ass.
Her smile was decadent. “I could say the same about you.”
Wes stepped back from her, cocking an eyebrow in invitation. “Come with me? I promise to make it worth getting fired for.”
God. All he had to do was look at her, and her body turned hot with longing. Would she ever not want this man?
With a furtive glance, Vivienne slipped her hand into his, letting him tug her along in his wake, through the glittering crowd and up the stairs. The bright chatter and pulsing music muted instantly when Wes pushed the bathroom door shut behind them.
The click of the lock sent a ripple of anticipation across Vivienne’s skin.
“Not bad.” Wes pulled out his phone, sending a cursory look around the exquisite fixtures and high-end finishings as he thumbed the screen. He glanced over at Vivienne and stowed the device back in his pocket.
“I mean, it’s no Señor Taco’s—” he stripped off his suit jacket and laid it on the countertop “—but I think we can make it work. C’mere, you.”
He pulled her close, seducing her with a deep, drugging kiss as he worked her dress up her thighs.
“Mmmm.” She smiled when he finally let her up for air. The hem of her gown had migrated all the way to her waist. “You’re in a hurry tonight.”
“Because it drives me crazy when you wear red,” he confessed, voice rough with arousal.
“And I can’t wait to be inside you,” he added, turning so that she was flanked by his big body and the bathroom vanity.
Without warning, her feet left the ground, and she gave a startled gasp as Wes lifted her onto the bathroom vanity, her hands grasping at his shoulders to steady herself at the sudden movement. His jacket was warm beneath her bare thighs.
“Also, we’ve got about six minutes, tops, before AJ figures out what I just did to the security camera in the hallway, so we need to get this show on the road.”
Vivienne was still laughing as she wound her arms around her husband’s neck and pulled him close.
* * *
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PROLOGUE
SOME WOMEN DREAM of marrying Prince Charming. They fantasize about the slow, stately march up the aisle of a medieval cathedral, the big white dress and a rock the size of Gibraltar on their ring finger. Molly, my ex-wife, once admitted under the influence of tequila shooters that she phoned Westminster Abbey—a transatlantic call—at the age of twelve because she wanted to save the date. Ten years in advance. And her parents did not have an international calling plan. It took her years to pay off that adventure.
Princes don’t do it for me. More to the point, when I was twenty-one and naked on a Santa Cruz beach, I was just glad I’d dodged a royal bullet, because if Molly had truly wanted an English peer and a glass-carriage wedding, I would have moved to London and made it happen. That’s what you do when you love someone. You keep that someone safe and deliver her dreams to her, gift-wrapped with a big-ass bow. I’m not sure how I feel about ribbons on my dick, but I was definitely willing to find out back then.
“I don’t suppose you’d marry me?” I whispered against her ear. “So we could stay like this forever?”
“You’re asking me now?” She grinned up at me, heels digging into my ass as her hips moved in a way guaranteed to make me forget both graduation the next day and my big financial plans for our future. “Pretty sure we can’t stay exactly like this forever.”
Counteroffering is an art form. “Mostly forever.”
I let my mouth—and my tongue—underscore my point. She groaned something. My name, a few cute curses—Molly was opposed to swearing—and then that one word. Yes.
I remember that night on the beach, the beginning of forever. What I didn’t know then was that forever would last nine years... 108 months... 3285 days. More than five million minutes. All that time and I didn’t see the end coming. Imagine you’re reading a book and there’s another half inch of paper, or twenty percent left in your e-reader, so you’re settling in, getting comfortable because thi
s is clearly going to be the best ending ever, and then bam. The end. The story’s done and you’re left wondering just how much damage hurling the e-reader at your drywall will cause. That was our story, Molly and me. Boy meets girl in college and falls in love. He proposes on a beach and they get married. Then they’re supposed to spend the next sixty years having hot sex, watching each other’s back and popping out a few Mini-Mes along the way. I wasn’t stupid. I knew it wouldn’t always be easy or fun. Marriage is like a roller coaster. You buy your ticket and then, once you’re on, you’re on. You don’t hop off at the top or in the dips. You ride for as long as it takes and you’re grateful for each exhilarating, wonderful, scary-as-hell second.
We got married in an outdoor chapel surrounded by California redwoods and our friends and families, and then we got on with the business of living. I started a venture capital firm with a college friend and made money; Molly earned a PhD in English. While I was busy settling down, my friends were playing the field. You’ve met them. Devlin King is scary smart, a brilliant programmer with a Machiavellian streak. He’d never hooked up with the same woman more than once until he fell for a fellow start-up entrepreneur and accidentally-on-purpose spent the summer working as her intern.
Dev’s dick was so popular it had its own Instagram...until he met Lola and suddenly he got the appeal of monogamy. It’s not that you can’t bang other women—it’s that you don’t want to because those other women aren’t her. Your one and only. The woman who makes you look up and drool like Pavlov’s dog when she waltzes through the door and for whom you’d do anything—hot sex on the beach, excruciating family dinners, half-assed home repairs, or volunteer to go and kick the ass of anyone and everyone dumb enough to hurt her feelings.
The third in our triumvirate fell hard, too. Like Dev, Max O’Reilly wasn’t in the business of relationships. In fact, he was so averse that he created Billionaire Bachelors, a dating app to connect to the many tech billionaires of Silicon Valley, including himself. He’d also launched Kinkster, mostly so he could order kinky-sex hookups the same way he ordered in Chinese food and pizza. A ballet dancer and influencer named Maple had changed his mind and he claimed to be a happy, happy man about that course reversal.
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