An Improper Ever After

by Nadia Lee

  Suddenly the line beeps, alerting us to another person joining the call.

  “How the fuck did you get this to leak?”

  My wife’s eyes widen. I rub the back of my neck. “Hello, Lucas. I didn’t realize you were going to join us.”

  “I wouldn’t normally, but did you have to fuck this shit up? What the hell is wrong with you guys?”

  “Inbox bursting with marriage proposals?” Blake says sarcastically.

  “No. I was on the verge of… Fuck!”

  “Just tell her the truth and get her to sign an NDA and prenup,” Ryder suggests. “Women aren’t stupid. They’re gonna know if you’re faking affection.”

  “Can’t. It’s Ava,” Lucas says.

  My jaw slackens, and I feel my mouth part. Belle looks at me blankly, but doesn’t ask…for which I’m grateful, since I’m not sure how to explain Ava.

  Ava Huss is Lucas’s ex. Or that’s the story from what I understand, but…

  When Lucas had his accident—the one that left him scarred—Blake and I were the first people to show up at the hospital. She appeared, claiming to be Lucas’s girlfriend of sorts. That was news to us. None of us knew Lucas was dating anyone. To be honest, he isn’t the type to date anyone seriously. He fucks women. Not indiscriminately, of course, but he doesn’t get involved. Ava vanished soon after exchanging a few unpleasant words with Blake at the hospital, and I assumed she was one of those pathetic, parasitical exes looking for an opportunity to worm her way back into his life…and his sizable bank account.

  “I’m so sorry about that,” Elizabeth says finally. “But we didn’t do anything.”

  “Oh, I know you didn’t, Elizabeth,” Lucas says. “But Ryder and Elliot?”

  “That’s not fair,” Ryder interjects. “You think I want this shit out there?”

  “Don’t you? It gets you media attention.”

  Ryder laughs. “‘Media attention.’ I’m already world famous, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Stop fighting,” I say. “We have to do damage control, and it’s got to come from me and Ryder.”

  “I’m supposed to trust you guys now?” Lucas snarls.

  “We’re the ones who are married,” I say. “It’ll sound better coming from us.”

  “So categorically deny everything?” Belle asks.

  “No, that would be a lie,” Blake says thoughtfully. “It’s always best to fight truth with truth.”

  Lucas says, “Not a terrible idea, except the truth doesn’t help us here.”

  “Everyone knows Elliot isn’t the type to marry just to get a painting. And Ryder wouldn’t marry his assistant over something as ridiculous as this…and start a family,” Blake says.

  “Think that’ll be enough?” Elizabeth asks.

  “It has to be. It’s the only thing we can say.”

  “It’s all about the delivery,” Ryder says. “Definitely no written statement, at least not on my part. I’m scheduled to be on a bunch of talk shows this week to start laying the groundwork for promoting my next movie. So I can mention something there. Very casually, but with enough scorn to make people feel like idiots for believing the rumor.”

  “That’s all fine and good, but when we get our paintings a year after all of us are married, it’s going to confirm the rumor was right,” Lucas says.

  “Is anyone going to be keeping score by then?” I ask.

  “Let’s worry about that later,” Elizabeth says. “What matters is taking care of this mess for now.”

  Although she speaks calmly, there is an edge to her tone that makes me worried. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just don’t like having this out there. I’ve got enough problems.”

  I sigh. She has her share of stalkers and obsessive admirers whose single unifying characteristic is being oblivious to her distaste for them. This might encourage a few to take it a step further.

  “Okay, then problem solved for now,” Ryder says. “Elliot and I will deal with it; the rest of you sit tight.”

  “If you screw things up, I’m going to break your pretty face,” Lucas growls.

  “Fine. But when I fix the problem, you owe Paige an apology. She’s rather fond of my face.”

  Lucas curses. But he’s no longer yelling, so I know he’s good…for now. “When are you marrying Ava?” I ask.

  He laughs, but there’s a manic edge to it. “After this shit? I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t spit in my face.”

  “Where are you?” If he’s in town, I want to stop by and check up on him. My instincts warn me that Lucas is a step away from becoming unhinged, even though outwardly he seems to be keeping things together.

  There’s a pause. “With Ava.”

  I scowl at the non-answer. “You know you can trust us.”

  “I do trust you. That doesn’t mean I want to share everything or want to see your ugly mug.”

  I sigh, but let it go. Forcing myself on him would only make things worse.

  We end the call since it’s late for Blake, and I want to spend some time with my wife. But first…

  I hit two of my most active social media accounts and post: Wow. Do I look like the type who gets married just to get a painting?

  Belle looks at my statement over my shoulder. “Will that be enough?”

  “Should be.” I toss my phone on the table. “People know my reputation for not giving a damn about anything.”

  “Because they don’t know you.” She links her fingers with mine. “You care so much, you have to fake it.”

  I chuckle to disguise how unsettled her observation makes me.

  She gives me a look. “Laugh all you want while I count the ways you care.” She shifts, bringing a knee onto the couch. “You’re kind to Nonny, which you wouldn’t be if you didn’t care. You’re sweet to Elizabeth and worry about her.” I open my mouth, and she immediately wags a finger. “Uh-huh. No. You don’t get to deny it when you told me before dinner about how worried you were about her.”

  I snap my mouth shut.

  “And you voided the contract between us, making what we have real. A man who doesn’t care wouldn’t have.”

  I raise my free hand and rest the palm against her face. She leans into my touch, her eyes on me.

  “You have a big, generous heart.” Her warm breath fans against my skin. “Otherwise I would’ve never fallen in love with you.”

  Her faith in me humbles me. Her love for me slays me.

  And I know I love her.

  No other woman will ever touch me the way she does. The things I felt when I first laid eyes on her—I called them lust. But now I recognize they were fate.

  I press my cheek against hers. “I love you, Annabelle Reed.”

  She trembles slightly. Then lays a hand over mine and slowly pulls back so she can look at me. Her green eyes shimmer, and she’s so beautiful it hurts.

  “Elliot,” she breathes out, and a stunning smile curves her lips.

  I can’t help it. I cover her mouth with mine. Her fingers dig into my hair, and I taste her sweetness, breathe in her loveliness.

  And I feel so damn free.

  After placing her arms around my neck, I grab her ass and stand up. Her shapely legs wrap around my hips with surprising strength. Without breaking the kiss, I carry her to our bedroom. Still without breaking the kiss, I manage to get her dress and bra off. She helps by toeing off her shoes. Her mouth is as desperate as mine. We finally break away to get my shirt. I fling it over my shoulder at the same time I kick off my flip-flops and pull my pants off with rough hands. My fingers unsteady, I divest her of her panties.

  She stands before me, flushed and fully nude. I take in the beauty of her body—the gentle slopes, the gorgeous breasts and tiny waist that flares out below. My heart beats erratically, and at that moment I finally understand why all those songs about doing anything for the one you love are so popular.

  I would kill for my wife. But at the moment, I simply gather her up and lay her on the bed
.

  Her flame-red hair spreads around her, and I try to control both my breathing and the lust raging through me. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want my wife right now.

  “Elliot, I need you,” she murmurs.

  “I need you too.” I kiss her again. Go slow, idiot. Don’t ruin it by rutting like an animal.

  Very deliberately, I run my fingers down her neck and shoulders, then caress the plump underside of her breast. Moaning softly, she arches into my touch—oil to my fire. I nuzzle against the tender skin at the crook of her neck and very gently stroke her tight nipple.

  “My god, Elliot…” Her smooth legs move restlessly against mine.

  “Let me make it good for you, beautiful.”

  I pull the nipple into my mouth, sucking strongly. She cries out, her fingers digging into my hair, her spine arching. Her legs widen in silent invitation, but, with supreme control, I ignore that. I want her mindless with pleasure and crying out my name. I want her to know nothing matters but us—what we have, what we can have.

  I let go and watch the wet tip of her tit bead tighter at contact with the cool air. My mouth wraps around the other nipple, while my hand travels along her taut stomach. The muscles jerk, and I stroke her firmly, quietly communicating I will take care of her.

  “Elliot, you’re killing me,” she moans.

  I laugh darkly against her. “Good.”

  Gripping my hand, she drags it down between her legs and presses it against her slick folds.

  Damn. She isn’t just ready. She’s soaking wet. My dick is so hard I feel like it’s going to shatter at any second. Gritting my teeth, I pull my hand away from her, then lick the sweet juices from my fingers. She watches me, her eyes dark, pupils so dilated there is hardly any green left. Her tongue flickers. My body hardens more in response, and I can feel pre-cum dripping from my cock.

  Belle takes a drop with the tip of her index finger and puts it in her mouth. So damn erotic that I feel like the top of my head is about to blow off.

  I move down her body wound tight with anticipation. I spread her thighs wide, then nuzzle the soft skin near the apex. Her feminine scent is stronger and headier, and I love it.

  I love her.

  A whimper pulls from her throat, and I grin wickedly before closing my mouth over her clit. She presses a palm over her mouth, and I pull back. “No hiding, Belle. We’re done with that.”

  Biting her lower lip, she fists the sheet underneath her. Her clit is slick and swollen and so damn sensitive. One, two…three broad strokes using the flat of my tongue and she’s climaxing, her body flushed, her face twisted in bliss. Feeling her come against my lips is more satisfying and sublime than any drug. I keep pushing her, this time thrusting into her with two fingers. Her entire body tenses, winding tight, then she comes again with a sharp cry.

  “Elliot… Elliot…” She chants my name almost mindlessly, her voice drugged with ecstasy.

  I know what she wants, but I do not relent. I crave her pleasure more than I crave my own, and I flutter my tongue against the sensitive tissue, the highly responsive bundle of nerves, gripping her pelvis to keep her where I want her. The sound tearing from the back of her throat is more animal than human, and I growl with satisfaction and need.

  Finally I sheathe my dick in a condom and drive into her. Her cunt is swollen, but so completely wet that I glide in with ease. She wraps her legs around my waist, heels digging in, urging me to move.

  Supporting my weight on my elbows, I link hands with her and kiss her deeply as I slam into her again and again. Her fingers squeeze and she whimpers against my lips. She’s so damn primed, I know she’s close to another orgasm.

  And I want to give it to her, watch her shatter beneath me.

  I pull away and change the angle to give her the extra stimulation she needs. Her face is glowing, and her eyes start to glaze over with another impending climax.

  “I love you,” I say between panting breaths. “I love you.”

  She unravels with my name on her lips. Only then do I relinquish control and let an awesome orgasm barrel through me. I’ve never felt one this powerfully. The force of it is almost frightening, and it destroys me from the inside out. But I’m okay. I’m with Belle.

  I roll to my side, pulling her with me so she’s lying on top. “I love you,” I say again. I feel like I need to make up all the times she told me she loved me and I didn’t say the words back.

  “I love you too,” she whispers, then kisses me on my chin. “I couldn’t ask for more in my life.”

  “I could.”

  She blinks. “Well, aren’t you the greedy one…”

  “What’s greedy about wanting to live happily ever after with the love of my life? Telling you I love you is just the first chapter.”

  “Who would’ve thought a man who ordered me to suck him off for three grand could be so romantic?”

  I cringe. “Can we not talk about that? I didn’t know I’d fall in love with you back then.”

  “I know.” She hugs me. “I don’t care about how we met. I’m just glad we did.”

  My arms tighten around her. “So am I. So am I.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Annabelle

  The next three days are like something out of the happy moments in Disney movies right before everything goes to hell in a handbasket. Since my life isn’t a movie, I’m sure it won’t implode, but…part of me can’t stop thinking about Dennis’s horrible words, especially at work.

  Dad should’ve shot you too.

  He was probably furious at having been fired. He thought Elliot, as Gavin’s close friend, would be able to do something to help him keep his internship, but not even Gavin’s mother would’ve been able to help after the theft.

  As I leave work on Thursday, hair on the back of my neck bristles. I scan the lobby. Expensively dressed people mill about, and four security guards in navy-blue uniforms stand by two exits. One of them is older, but the other three are young and look like they hunt wolves with their bare hands.

  I shake my head at myself. Dennis said those things, but that doesn’t mean he’s actually going to do something. He’s always been on the impetuous side, with a generous dollop of roughness, but I just don’t see him as someone who might use deadly force.

  Everyone thought Mr. Smith was an affable guy, too…until he opened fire on your parents.

  I shove the thought aside and get into my car in the underground garage across the street. The one in the OWM building was unavailable when I arrived. Something about a minor incident in the garage, although I don’t know exactly what happened. There hadn’t been any time for gossip before Jana dropped an Everest-sized pile of papers on my desk and told me to go over every single one of them for information about potentially lucrative leveraged buyouts.

  When I arrive home, I dump my purse and crumple onto the couch.

  “That bad?” Elliot teases.

  “Ugh,” I moan. “My god. I didn’t know a firm like OWM could generate so much paperwork. I thought only lawyers did that.”

  He laughs and arranges us so I’m lying with my head in his lap. He undoes my ponytail, fanning my hair over the soft fabric of his camouflage shorts. The bright green shirt he wears is loose, but can’t hide the impressive breadth of his powerful shoulders.

  And just like that, all my fears disappear.

  He is perfect, inside and out. And he’s mine through the love we have for each other.

  I look up at him with a slightly bemused smile. Reaching up, I brush the tip of my index finger over his chin.

  He catches my finger and kisses it. “What are you thinking?”

  “That I’m lucky to have you. We don’t travel in the same social circles. We should have never run into each other.”

  “It’s not luck, it’s fate. I was meant to run into you, and you were meant to be mine.”

  “For a logical man, that’s awfully whimsical.”

  His eyes darken, and he lowers his head
. “A better word would be ‘grateful.’”

  My breath catches, and I tilt my face, my body warming with anticipation. But before our lips can touch, Nonny bursts out of her bedroom. “Anna, can I have a twenty?”

  Elliot straightens with a sigh. “Your sister has shitty timing,” he mutters. “I’m getting her a credit card.”

  “Don’t even think about it.” I give him a stern look, then turn to Nonny. “What happened to all your money?”

  She shifts her weight from side to side, not quite meeting my eyes. “I…bought some candy bars.”

  Elliot gapes at her. “Were they wrapped in gold?”

  I have to agree. Her allowance is exceptionally generous, especially given that Elliot pays for her clothes, food, all school-related activities and so on.

  “Some junior high school kids came up to sell stuff… You know, for a fundraiser? So I bought, um, three boxes.”

  “Good god.” Elliot shakes his head. “You’re going to get diabetes.”

  I lay a hand on his thigh. I know why she did it. She used to have to sell stuff too, and she was always the worst salesperson in the class. “All right. Bring me my purse.”

  She does. I fish out my wallet and pull out a twenty. A card slips out of one of the pockets and falls on the floor.

  Nonny takes the money. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it, but next time buy one bar, not three boxes.”

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  Before I can grab the card, Elliot reaches down and picks it up. His face pales when he reads what’s on it. He glances at me sharply, then turns to Nonny. “Do you mind giving us a few minutes?”

  Her quizzical gaze darts between us. “Um…sure.” She walks off to her room, watching us over her shoulder the entire way.

  As soon as the door closes, Elliot sits me up and gets to his feet. “How the hell do you have this card?”

  His voice is seething with fury, and I flinch. Cold fear flows through my veins. This is the exact tone he used when he found out about Mr. Grayson.

  * * *

  Elliot

  My wife’s face turns pale so fast, I worry that she may faint without giving me the answers I want.

  “What is it?” she whispers, her lips barely moving.