by Jolie Day
“Are you trying to make me fat?” Brooke teased, plucking a croissant and nibbling on it.
“You’re perfect,” Anthony told her, pecking Brooke on the cheek. “But no. As a matter of fact, we’re celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?” Brooke asked. “Are you pregnant?” Her eyes got wide. “Is it mine?”
“Would you stop joking for a second,” Anthony sighed as he picked up the paper and showed her the front cover.
Brooke gasped and the pastry fell from her grasp as she read the headline and her eyes scanned the black and white photograph of her own father, in his chair on the courthouse steps downtown, surrounded by reporters and microphones, a proud smile stretching his lips.
The headline above it read: “Retired Cop Gets Justice”.
Chapter Sixteen
Brooke padded across the bedroom, leaving behind their rumpled bedsheets and misplaced pillows in favor of a hot shower. She wore nothing but her silk robe and the necklace that Anthony had bought her for their first anniversary, just a few weeks ago. Her hair was piled atop her head, messily, and her entire body was sore from their activities the night before.
Grinning to herself, Brooke left the bathroom door cracked open and leaned into the shower, turning the water to the perfect temperature, before starting her routine.
First, she removed the silk robe, allowing it to fall to the ground with a soft plop, before undoing the clasp of the necklace and placing it inside the small metal jewelry box that she kept in the bathroom specifically for such an occasion. Then, she undid the tie in her hair, allowing the strawberry-blonde locks to fall down around her shoulder in a waterfall of cascading waves. Sighing in relief from the tension, Brooke finally stepped into the shower, allowing the pounding water to massage her body for several long moments before she reached for the soap.
This time, however, as she reached for the small white bar, a hand wrapped around her wrist and Brooke turned, with a wide grin, to find Anthony standing behind her with his usual hungry expression. He motioned for her to turn back around and she did so, allowing him to run the bar of soap over her back and sides, his strong, sure fingers sending shivers up and down her spine as he massaged her sore muscles and kissed her wet shoulders. Brooke let out tiny moans of ecstasy as his hands slowly migrated to the front of her body, lathering up her stomach and breasts with the soapy substance. She leaned back against his chest, practically limp with arousal. She could feel his own pressing insistently against her ass and she let out a stuttering breath as she rubbed herself against him.
Anthony turned her around then, pressing his lips against hers as he pushed her against the side of the shower, out from under the spray of water. Brooke shivered when she felt the cold tile hit her back, the feeling a stark contrast to the heat on her front. Anthony tossed the soap back on its holder, before reaching down to grab hold of her thigh, pulling it to sling around his hip as he teased her opening with his hardness, sliding himself up and down against her, making Brooke impossibly wet—more than a shower ever could.
Brooke let out moans and sighs, her hands scrabbling at Anthony’s shoulders, her lips practically begging him to do something about the coil that was tightening in her lower abdomen, threatening to snap her in half if he kept her waiting for too long.
“Please,” she moaned. “Please, Anthony.”
“Please what?” he husked in her ear, still teasing her with slow, even movements against where she needed him most.
Brooke moaned again, pressing her open mouth insistently against his, suddenly without the words to express how much she needed him. How much she loved him.
They had said the words to each other a long time ago. It was a spontaneous confession in the kitchen as they made dinner, side by side. Brooke was still living with her father at the time, but she spent most of her nights at Anthony’s penthouse, making meals with him, cuddling on the couch, trailing clothes to the bedroom…
She figured that it was only a matter of time before he would ask her to move in with him.
And he did, on the same night that he first told her that he loved her. She was surprised, frankly, that he’d been the one to say it first. Not that she ever doubted how he felt about her, after putting his own life on the line to save hers and her father’s. But she had been swallowing the words down like a large pill for so long that she was certain they would either choke her or escape the confines of her lips without her permission.
But he’d been the first to say it, while they were chopping mushrooms for his homemade marsala. It was said so casually that Brooke had almost missed it as she dumped her mushrooms into the pot, stirring them in with a sprinkle of garlic and oregano. When she lifted her spoon to taste the simmering sauce, her eyes suddenly widened and she turned to her boyfriend with widened eyes.
“What did you say?” Brooke gasped.
“I said turn up the heat on the stove,” Anthony replied, his back to her as he prepared the chicken to go into the oven.
“No,” Brooke said, placing the spoon down on the counter and approaching him at the kitchen island. “Th-the other thing. What did you say before that?”
“Put the mushrooms in?” Anthony asked, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. Brooke groaned in frustration and he laughed, turning to place his hands on her hips. “Also,” he relented, “that I love you. Very much.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “And I would like it very much,” he continued, “if you would move into the penthouse.”
Brooke smiled against his lips, before pulling away with a soft shrug. “I’m pretty much already living here, anyway, aren’t I?” she reasoned, jokingly. Then she became somber. “I love you, too, Anthony Dunham. So much.” With tears in her eyes, she had kissed him again. They only pulled apart after that when the sauce began to bubble.
Now, their lips were joined again as Anthony pressed himself inside of her, stretching Brooke for the millionth time since they began dating. She let out a long moan as he held himself inside, perfectly still as if to relish the sensation of being so intimately connected again. She practically whimpered in relief when he began to move inside of her again, causing that coil in her lower abdomen to tighten more and more with each stroke of his hardness against her soft inner walls, the ridge of his member teasing her clit with every plunge of him deep inside. Brooke’s nails dug into his shoulders as she struggled to keep herself standing, even as the leg that was holding her up began to tremble and go weak under the weight of her ecstasy.
They’d learned long ago that this worked best when she kept one foot on the ground, rather than allowing him to take the full brunt of their combined weight on his own legs. It had taken a lot of injury to come to that conclusion.
But, throwing caution to the wind, Anthony reached down, lifting Brooke’s other thigh to wrap around his waist, pressing her firmly against the shower wall as he sped up his movements. She gasped and moaned and held on for dear life as she felt that coil becoming almost painfully tight, before, suddenly, it broke and she was thrown, head-first over a familiar ledge, her entire body canting into Anthony’s, squeezing him with every part of her.
Anthony paused for a moment, prolonging her pleasure with the gentle touch of his fingers until she came back down to earth. And then he began to move inside again, bringing her straight back to that edge with quickened strokes. Brooke held nothing back as she moaned and groaned and squealed, her nails leaving their usual scratches all over his back as she felt her back hit the wall again and again, felt his shaft stretching her with each pump of himself inside of her. She closed her eyes tight and opened her mouth wide, allowing a long scream to escape her as she fell, for the second time, over that edge. Anthony joined her this time, releasing in her, before his own body went limp, pressing her against the wall with deep, panting breaths against her sensitive neck.
After a while, he allowed her to slip back to the floor of the shower, guiding both of their sweaty, damp bodies under the sp
ray to rinse off and clean themselves. Again, he soaped up her body, gently washing Brooke off, before reaching for her strawberry-scented shampoo and lathered up his hands, running his fingers over her scalp. Brooke let out soft moans as he shampooed and conditioned her hair, before rinsing the soapy substance out and massaging her body.
She had just grabbed hold of the soap to do the same for him, when Anthony suddenly backed out of the shower and held up one finger to keep her there. She watched him exit the bathroom with confusion in her eyes, but then shrugged as she allowed the hot water to relax her muscles.
When he returned, Anthony held his hands behind his back as he stepped back into the shower. Brooke tilted her head in confusion at him, but he just took one of her hands and led her out of the spray again, before letting go and—to her shock—dropping to one knee in front of her, a wide smile on his lips. Tears filled Brooke’s eyes and for a long moment, she fell speechless.
“Brooke Abernathy,” Anthony started. “My life was made infinitely better the day I hired you to be a dealer at my casino. I had no idea that it would be,” he admitted. “But the second I saw your name, I saw it as an opportunity to right my wrongs. I had no idea that I would end up falling in love with you on that day. I had no idea how much of my heart would belong to you in just a few short months, nor did I have any idea that you would make such a change in me.
“I am not the man I was a year ago,” he continued, holding out the blue velvet box out to her. “I am so much better with you in my life. So, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Brooke wasted no time in answering him, passionately. “Yes!” she cried out, dropping to her knees in front of him and cupping his cheeks with her hands. “Yes, Anthony! I will be your wife. I will marry you! I love you so much.” She pressed her lips to his, feeling the spray of water hitting them just slightly. When she pulled away, she saw tears in his eyes. She wiped them away with the pads of her thumbs and pressed a kiss to Anthony’s lips, before holding out her hand for him to slip the diamond ring on her finger.
It glittered, even in the low, intimate lights of the bathroom.
*****
Anthony and Brooke were married, in a private ceremony, just a few short months later.
His tuxedo was white and fit him like a glove, while her dress was sleeveless, tied with a deep red ribbon, and made her look like a princess. The ceremony was held in the Hamptons, on their own private beach, where their family and closest friends gathered to witness their union.
Bruce carried out his lifelong dream of walking his daughter down the aisle. Obviously, he couldn’t do it literally, but Brooke had gathered her skirt and sat on her father’s lap, giggling as he wheeled them both down the aisle, where Anthony waited for her, his eyes filled with joy and a smile on his lips as he held out his hand to his new bride, helping her up. He placed a kiss on her forehead, then turned to his father-in-law and shook the older man’s hand. Then he stepped back and waited patiently as Brooke pressed a kiss to her father’s cheek and told him that she loved him.
When the pastor began speaking, Brooke handed her bouquet of roses off to Tessa Silver, her maid of honor, and took Anthony’s hands with her own, linking their fingers between them. Her eyes glittered as she gazed into the deep brown pools of the man she was about to spend the rest of her life with. Her chest pounded with unfathomable joy and her cheeks were beginning to ache from smiling so much. Anthony mirrored her expression.
“Dearly beloved,” the pastor began, in a deep, vibrating voice that stretched across the crowd of about twenty spectators. “We are gathered here today to join these two souls in holy matrimony…” As his voice echoed around them, Brooke and Anthony only had eyes for each other, his thumb rubbing the soft skin of her hand as they listened, absently, to his words.
“Anthony?” He turned to the pastor, struggling to tear his eyes away from his bride, and nodded. “Do you take this woman, Brooke Elizabeth Abernathy, to be your legally wedded bride, to love and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live, ‘til death do you part?”
Anthony’s eyes flashed as he turned his gaze back to Brooke. “I do,” he said, with a loving smile. He squeezed her hands and Brooke’s heart skipped a beat.
“And do you, Brooke, take this man, Anthony Francisco Dunham, to be your legally wedded husband, to love and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live, ‘til death do you part?”
“I do,” Brooke choked, tears filling her eyes. Anthony lifted one of her hands to his lips, causing a soft ‘aw’ to wash over the crowd like a wave. They smiled at each other and Brooke flushed.
“Very good,” the pastor said. “Now, who has the rings?”
“I do, sir,” Aiden, who stood at Anthony’s side, said, reaching inside his coat and pulling out the small black velvet box. He handed it to Anthony and the two men shared a handshake and a clap on the back, before the latter turned back to his bride, holding up the smaller of the rings.
“Anthony,” the pastor said, “place this ring on Brooke’s finger and repeat after me: with this ring, I do thee wed.”
“With this ring,” Anthony whispered, placing it on Brooke’s outstretched finger, “I do thee wed.”
“Very good. And, Brooke, place Anthony’s ring on his finger and repeat after me: with this ring, I do thee wed.” And Brooke did so. “Now, by the power vested in me,” the pastor continued, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Anthony wasted no time at all in pulling Brooke to him, slanting his lips down over hers and taking the breath straight from her lungs. Neither of them paid attention at all as there was a loud roar of applause from the crowd, in addition to bright flashes of light from several cameras. Their own wedding party whistled and cheered and patted the newlyweds on the back, but they didn’t notice that, either.
All that seemed to exist, in their world, was each other.
*****
“If I haven’t said it enough,” Aiden said as they stood by the open bar in the Hamptons beach house that Anthony and Brooke had bought just recently, “congratulations. Brooke seems like a really amazing lady.”
“She is, Ade,” Anthony replied, his gaze scanning the dance floor and quickly finding Brooke and Tessa spinning clumsily in their dresses. Tessa had a martini in her hand and was acting a little bit tipsy. Or maybe it wasn’t even acting. Either way, Brooke looked beautiful, her smile larger than life.
“I’m happy for you, brother,” Aiden said. “And, in fact, I think it’s time that I gave you your wedding gift.”
“Oh, you don’t have to give us anything, Ade,” Anthony insisted, waving him off. “After all, if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have my casino and I never would have met Brooke in the first place.”
“As true as that may be,” Aiden laughed, “it’s customary for the best man to throw the groom a bachelor party. And, since you decided that you didn’t want a bachelor party, for reasons that—well, just looking at your beautiful bride—I think I can understand, I decided to invest the money I would have spent on such an event on a new investment, in your name.”
Aiden reached into his pocket and pulled out a large manila envelope, handing it over to his good friend. “It seems to have paid off, too.”
“What is this?” Anthony asked, looking down at the envelope in his hands.
“Open it,” Aiden instructed and Anthony used his thumb to rip open the flap, before pulling out a single sheet of paper. As his eyes scanned what was on that piece of paper, his mouth began to gape open and he looked up at his friend with widened eyes.
“You can’t be serious,” he said and Aiden’s mouth widened in a grin. “Ade,” he said, “this is way too much. You should—”
“It’s in your name,” Aiden said, backing away. “It belongs to you. The investment had its risks, as all investments do, but it was worth it. Wouldn’t you say
so?” Anthony nodded, looking back down at the numbers on the page, the venues that he now owned all over Atlantic City; venues that he could start transforming into casinos, hotels, or restaurants. There were at least a dozen listed on the page, and, according to what he was seeing now, they all belonged to him. And they were worth more than what his existing establishments could make in several decades.
“Aiden,” he said, watching as his friend began to disappear into the crowd, “thank you.” It was all he could think to say now, knowing that his friend would never take the money back; not in a million years.
Aiden just winked at him, before turning and finding a dance partner to twirl across the floor.
Anthony tucked the sheet back into the envelope, tucked the envelope into his jacket pocket, and then went off to find his wife to tell her the fantastic news so that they could decide, together, what to do with their newfound wealth.
And happiness.
THE END
Melanie Brunswick just graduated from Harvard Business School and she has big plans for her future. New to New York City, she’s ready to make a splash in the cut-throat world of high-finance. She has a good chunk of wealth at her disposal as a result of pitches she’s made to successful investors and she’s determined to make a name for herself. And then she meets Aiden Carmichael, a highly sought after investor and business bigwig. Melanie wows him with her business smarts and the fierce intelligence in her eyes. But he’s also not blind to her beauty, nor is she blind to his. What happens when these two passionate business geniuses meet and share an intense connection?
Find out in the next romance novel. Available soon!
In the meanwhile, check out My Boss: The Wolf.
Joel Harper embodies masculinity, authority, and power.
Avery
There’s something wild — untamed — in his piercing blue eyes.