by Violet Paige
Instead, I was letting my screenplay rot while I sat with a love-struck grin on my face. Where was my angst? Where was the heartbreak? Where was something deep and tangible to put into this story?
I groaned, deciding I needed to pack everything up for the day and head back to the apartment. I wanted to make dinner for Jer. See? Even that was ridiculous and silly. But I couldn’t help it. I wanted to do something wifey for him.
As I shoved my laptop into my messenger bag, I wondered if he’d like it if I served dinner in only an apron. Of course he would.
I had to do something to get us out of the slump of being back in the city. Neither one of us was excited to wake up without our butler serving fresh pineapple on the villa’s veranda, or without the ability to strap on a snorkel and go for a swim. I’d even climb to the top of the volcano again, if it meant we could have stayed longer.
No one could stay in honeymoon land forever.
I trudged the few blocks to the apartment, trying not to let the sounds of the taxis and the road construction depress me.
Everywhere I looked I saw gray concrete. It towered overhead and was under my feet. It almost felt like a weight crushing my shoulders. I wanted tropical winds. I wanted a fruity drink in my hand.
I walked into our building. It wasn’t any better inside the apartment. Jeremy’s decorating style was as cold and mechanical as the city. I couldn’t take it. I marched right back out the door and onto the sidewalk. I had to fix this. I was going to bring some warmth into our home.
I lit the last candle and waited for Jeremy to walk through the front door. I had accomplished what I set out to do. I folded my arms, proud of how quickly I pulled it together.
I heard his keys in the lock. My heart raced. I leaned against the counter, holding a glass of wine. The apron barely covered my nipples down to the top of my thighs. The high heels I wore made it even shorter.
The door opened and I caught Jer’s eyes. He raked them over my body before he closed the door swiftly.
“Damn girl. What is this?” He walked toward me.
I grinned shyly. Dinner was on the table. I hadn’t had enough time to cook after my shopping spree, but it was a gourmet meal. I’d cook for him tomorrow night. Something he loved. Something savory and special.
He cupped my cheek, brushing his lips against mine. “Mmm. Is this for me?”
I nodded. “It is.”
He looked over his shoulder at the candlelit supper and again to me. His hands traveled to the small of my back where the apron was tied. I felt the bow fall to the side as he pulled on the ends.
“You can’t wear this to dinner.” He leaned down, kissing my throat.
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t.”
He took the wine from my hand. “And I don’t want you to spill wine on those heels.”
“That would be bad. You did buy them for me.”
I smiled when he lifted me to the counter.
“I didn’t know this was the kind of wife you were going to be, Mrs. Hartwell.”
“What kind of wife is that?” I asked playfully.
His hand pressed between my breasts as he pushed my back flat on the cold surface. It wasn’t enough to cool the slow burn under my skin.
“The kind who makes sure her husband has dessert before dinner.” He jerked my ass to the edge of the granite.
“Oh shit,” I hissed as he dove between my legs. His tongue began to work relentlessly. He drew a long slow lick before I heard his zipper and then the sound of his belt hitting the floor.
“I was going to take you out to dinner.” He kissed my right knee and then my left as he slung my heels on the tops of his massive shoulders. “But this is a much better plan.”
He pointed his cock to my heat and for a moment, I braced for the impact of Jeremy filling me with his thick shaft.
“Ohh,” I moaned as he pushed into me.
My heels bounded in the air as he thrust again.
“Tell me I can fuck you like this every night before dinner, baby.”
My palms slid across the surface, trying to hold on. “God, yes,” I agreed. I loved the angle. I loved his powerful body. I felt like a sex kitten. The kind who had made her husband extremely happy.
Jeremy reached forward, dragging his thumb to my clit. I jerked at his touch and I saw the wicked smile on his face. He flicked at my tight nub until I was a wreck, quivering and shaking with the promise of an epic orgasm.
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned. “Come hard. Like this. I feel you, Evie. I feel how much you want it.”
I nodded, not able to turn back the raging river burning under my skin. It burned for him. For us. For how dirty and erotic it was to lure my husband into naughty sex on the kitchen counter.
“I. Can’t. Stop,” I screamed as his thumb worked my clit, beckoning the orgasm to spill over in never-ending toe-curling sensation.
Jeremy pumped harder, fueled by my climax. Until I heard the low grunts and knew his cock was about to explode inside me. I held my breasts, tugging at my nipples, feeding his desire. Watching his eyes glaze over with carnal lust. He slammed into me, roaring with his release.
He stood there planted while he filled me with one gush after another of his seed.
I smiled.
“You are full of surprises.” He kissed my ankle. Damn, he was sexy. He was still dressed from the waist up for work.
“I try.” I shrugged.
Just then his expression changed. He had looked up. His eyes were on the couch.
“What is the couch doing covered in pillows? Are those blankets? And flowers?” I almost thought his voice cracked at the last question.
I squeezed his cock, bringing his attention back.
“Evie?”
I pushed up, lowering my heels from his shoulders. I wrapped my ankles against his back. “I live here too.”
He exhaled. “Yes, but you didn’t say anything about not liking it.”
“It’s not that I don’t like it.” I lied through my teeth. It wasn’t the location or the view. But it was a cold bachelor pad. He liked the warehouse industrial look. I did not.
He eyed me. “Pillows?”
“I love pillows. And cozy blankets. How are we supposed to curl up for movie night with no blankets?”
“You might have a point.”
I didn’t have to transform everything. “I won’t go into your sports sanctuary. Ever.” I smiled. “And look. I didn’t change the colors,” I added. “Just softened it up a little.”
I saw his jaw tense. He was studying my handiwork from across the room.
“Ok.”
“Ok?” I was optimistic.
“I guess there’s nothing wrong with a few pillows. And blankets.”
I grinned. “I can’t wait for you to try dinner. I found this cute French restaurant around the corner. The couple who owns it is so sweet. I told them about my parents’ restaurant. I’d like to go back one night.”
“When are you going to make Bella’s chicken parm for me?” he teased, helping me sit upright. He reached for his pants and tossed the apron in my lap.
“I can make it tomorrow. I was going to make dinner tonight, but by the time I was headed home it was too late to start.” I frowned. Now that the sexfest was over, I felt like putting on some PJs. “I’ll be right back.” I kicked off the heels. “I need something comfy.”
I walked to the back of the apartment and dug through my purchases in the closet. I had bought a pair of soft yoga pants on our honeymoon and a tank top. I put them both on and padded back to the kitchen. I liked the single green palm frond on the leg.
Jeremy had poured a glass of wine. He handed mine to me.
“Thank you.” I took a sip.
We sat down to eat. We both felt relaxed. I felt like I was still glowing from my orgasm.
“Ok, tell me about the reception. Did you talk to your mom or Frannie again?”
I offered him a basket of bread. He took one of the hot rolls from th
e center.
“No. I told them I would call tomorrow after I had a chance to talk to you, but I’ve basically agreed to go. How could I say no? They put so much pressure on me to do this for my father. I didn’t have a choice.”
“It’s ok. I’m ok that we have to go. I think it’s nice they want to do this for you.”
I pinched off a piece of bread. “Do you want to add anyone to the guest list?” I asked.
He shook his head. His eyes were dark. “No.”
“What about Sasha?”
“Definitely not,” he snapped.
“I thought it might help. Sort of like an olive branch. I can be the one to ask her if you think that would change things..”
I picked up a knife. “She has other plans this weekend. I don’t think she would like Newton Hills anyway.”
I felt a prickly stab under my ribs. I knew his life was in New York and it had been for years, but I loved where we grew up. I loved our high school and the friends back home.
“Is it beneath her? Is that what you’re trying to say?” I was hurt.
“No, Evie. She has a business event for us this weekend.”
“But that’s not how you said it. Why wouldn’t she like where we were raised? Are you embarrassed by it? Is it the town? Our state? The South?”
“I’m not—” He exhaled. “It has nothing to do with Newton Hills. It has to do with her. She’s not like you. She doesn’t like pillows and blankets. Or puppies. Or babies.”
My eyes widened. “What does she like?”
“Money.”
I considered his response. It wasn’t hard to believe with what little I knew about Sasha.
“That’s sad then. Money can’t make you happy.”
“It makes her happy. And people like my parents.”
“What about you?” I prodded. “Do you still think it’s all about money? I realize that’s a big part of how this happened.” I was going to live in our truth, not pretend we had fallen in love in a traditional way. Jeremy married me for money. Plain and simple.
“I want that baseball team. That hasn’t changed, but it’s not because of the money. I need the money to have the team. Don’t misunderstand. I fucking love money. I like buying expensive things. I like having first class seats. I like renting a villa for my wife on her honeymoon. I liked having the cash to buy you the biggest fucking diamond I could put on your finger. Money opens doors. But I’m not going to forget the pain it caused me. It ruined the people my parents could have been. It dictated every part of their lives. I’m not going to make that same mistake.”
I wanted to reach across the table and kiss him, but I held my roll and continued to nibble it while he spoke.
“We’re going to do this a different way, Evie. I swear, we’re going to be happy with money.”
“And if it suddenly disappeared?”
His eyes darted to mine. “That won’t happen.”
I knew better than to press him. I wanted to enjoy our dinner. I wanted to fall asleep with Jer’s arms around me, not lying back to back over a dumb fight. I was a new wife, but I was learning how to pick my battles.
“No, it won’t.”
I reached for the wine. “What do you think about movie night, tonight? I think it’s a marriage requirement that we need a show to binge or at least a list of Oscar movies to watch.”
“Pillows and now binging? What are you trying to do to me?”
“You get first choice?”
He chuckled. “I’m going to make you watch every single Jane Austen movie ever made.”
“Seriously?”
“No. We are watching the latest Jack Hudson movie.”
I groaned. “Ok. And then Jane Austen?” I was hopeful. “Think how proud Mrs. Wratchet would be of us.”
“We aren’t in AP English anymore, babe.”
We walked to the couch with our glasses. I suddenly didn’t care what movie we watched. All I knew was that with Jeremy’s strong body aligned with mine, surrounded by a new set of cozy pillows and blankets, nothing else could make me happier in the world.
8
Jeremy
The last time I was in Newton Hills I was punched in the gut. It felt like a simultaneous blow to the jaw and nose the way my father delivered my inheritance news through his attorney.
It didn’t matter that a heart attack had killed him, my father tried to find a way to make me miserable even after his death. But the bastard wasn’t going to win this time.
I left Newton Hills with a plan that spit in the face of his insults, but I was returning with something far more valuable—I had Evie now.
My wife unlocked the door to her townhouse. It had been vacant for weeks. It was dark, but as soon as we walked through the door I was hit with how it still felt warm, like Evie. I laughed when I spotted the pillows everywhere.
“Do you want to pack these up and take them back to New York?” I jumped on the couch and half the pillows bounced on the floor.
Evie walked around turning on lamps. There was a glow in the cramped living room that we didn’t have in my warehouse apartment.
“I will pack up every single pillow and blanket if I can.” She grinned, dropping into the space next to me.
There was a stark contrast between how she lived her life and I lived mine. She wanted to curl up like a cat every chance she had. It was hard to ignore how adorable she was.
“I guess we should pack some of your other things too. I can hire a moving company.” I looked around. She didn’t have much furniture. It wouldn’t match a damn thing in the New York apartment, but it was convincingly Evie’s style.
“Really?” She smiled. “I would love to take some of my things back. I miss my clothes. And my pictures.”
“Of course. There’s plenty of room.” I had to fight the impulse to stake claim on every inch of the apartment. Evie was my wife. She lived there too. I had to stop being a dick about everything that was mine before she was in my life.
She sighed. “We should enjoy this for a minute.”
“Why?”
“Because my family is going to descend on us any second and this quiet isn’t going to last long.”
I laughed. “They can’t be that bad.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re cute when you play dumb.”
“Hey.” I attacked her sides, tickling her until she cried with laughter. I pulled her under me, covering her mouth with mine.
She moaned. It was enough to trigger my cock into action. I tangled my hands in her hair.
“Have you ever been fucked on this couch?” I taunted.
She nipped at my bottom lip. “No,” she answered. “I never have.”
I grinned, feeling the need to take my wife right here. “You know how our last night in Newton Hills was spent.” I raised my eyebrows.
The doorbell rang and we both sat upright, scattering pillows in every direction. The door burst open and Evie practically pushed me to the floor, scrambling to get to her mother and sister. Shit. I had to calm the throbbing pulse she had started before I could stand.
I watched as her mother and sister pulled her into hugs.
“Mama. Frannie.”
“Let me look at you. You’re so tan and golden.” Her mother stepped back and observed her daughter. “What have you been eating? You’re thin as a rail.”
Evie swatted her mother’s hands away. “I’ve been eating plenty. It was a tropical diet in Tahiti. I had lots of fruit.”
Frannie arched her eyebrows. “Are you already becoming a New Yorker? You look like one.”
“No,” Evie fired back. “You haven’t even said hi to Jeremy yet.” The three women rotated toward the couch.
I stood and walked around to the makeshift foyer Evie had created with a coat rack and bench.
“Mrs. Rossi.” I extended my hand. “It’s good to see you again.” I didn’t know it was so easy to feel eighteen again. Normal people’s parents could do that to me.
She pressed
her lips together. “I never thought you’d be my son-in-law, Jeremy Hartwell.”
“Neither did I.” I grinned.
“Well, come here. We hug in this family.” She motioned me toward her. I stepped closer as she wrapped her small frame into a hug.
I tried to think of the last time my own mother had hugged me. It wasn’t at the will reading. It wasn’t at my father’s funeral. It had been so long, I couldn’t place the memory. I was sure as a child she must have held me, or brought me onto her lap, but even that was hard to picture. We weren’t an affectionate family. I had grown used to it.
As soon as Mrs. Rossi let go, Frannie pounced.
“I can’t believe you, Jeremy,” she squealed. Frannie’s perfume was strong and citrus-laden. She was louder than her younger sister, but just as beautiful. It was another reminder I hadn’t paid enough attention to the Rossi girls in high school.
“Good to see you Frannie.”
I felt Evie’s hand slide into mine. There was an adoring look in her eyes.
“Evelyn, we need to get going,” her mother spoke quickly.
“Going?” I looked at them.
Frannie plucked Evie’s coat from the hook. “Yes, we’re throwing Evie’s bridal luncheon this afternoon. The bride cannot be late.”
“Bridal luncheon?”
Evie laughed. “Don’t worry. You are exempt from this one. Stay here and work.” She fastened her coat and grabbed her new designer handbag.
Frannie’s jaw dropped. “Where did you get that?”
“Jeremy bought it for me,” she answered. I didn’t know if she was proud or embarrassed of our wealth, but she had eased into high-end shopping and hadn’t argued with me about it since our first day in New York.