Failure to Match: Epilogue

One year later.

I yelped as my back hit the petal-covered bed. Jackson was on top of me in an instant, pinning my wrists as he buried his face in my neck.

“God, you look good in white,” he growled into my skin before nipping at it. “I’m tempted to buy you a full line of wedding dresses just so I can fuck you in them.”

I hummed. If I’d learned one thing over the last year, it was that arguing with Jackson over his extravagant gift ideas only made things worse. I could almost guarantee that if I said no to him now, I’d go home after our honeymoon to a penthouse full of wedding dresses.

My husband was the most unreasonable man on the planet.

I loved him so fucking much.

“We could make it an annual tradition.” He began bunching up the buttery silk of my skirt, pushing it up to my waist. I moaned, spreading my thighs so he could settle between them. “What do you think, Mrs. Sinclair? One year ago today I fucked you in that pretty little lace dress you wore to the courthouse, and I’m about to do the same now. I can’t think of a more enticing tradition.”

I grinned up at the ceiling. “I think two weddings is enough for one lifetime.”

He lifted his head, eyes glazed with lust as he looked down at me. “The first one didn’t count. You wouldn’t even let me get us a venue.”

“I think this one more than made up for it, don’t you?” I couldn’t think of a more luxurious or extravagant wedding venue than the rooftop patio of the flagship Cloutier Toronto. The hotel’s wedding spaces were booked out years in advance. Luckily, the CEO’s wife was my maid of honor.

Jackson frowned in that tell-tale way. “Fine. We’ll compromise. No annual ceremony but I don’t see why you can’t get a new wedding dress every year so I can tear it off you. What better way to celebrate our anniversary?”

It was a genuine question. He didn’t hear how ridiculous that sounded.

“Have I told you how much I love you recently?”

His grin sent a familiar flutter through me. I’d never get used to how painfully handsome the man was. “We exchanged vows this afternoon, but I’m not opposed to hearing it again, wife.”

There was a reason for his emphasis. He knew damn well how much it turned me on when he called me that.

“I love you.” I whispered, shivering when he pinned me down with a firm press of his hips. Hearing me say that was his turn-on. “I love you, Jackson. So fucking much.”

He groaned, thrusting against me as the tips of his fingers dug into my wrists. Anticipation swept through me. If I pushed him enough, he’d snap, hold me down, and fuck me with no mercy.

Like he needed it.

“It hasn’t gotten easier for me,” I said. “I love you even more than I did a year ago. It’s so overwhelming. I don’t know how to fucking handle it.”

The best part of this game? All I had to do was just tell him the truth.

He wasn’t grinning anymore.

“I’m so glad I married you. Best decision I’ve ever made. You make me so happy, baby. I’m borderline obsessed with being your wife.”

Another thrust and I whimpered. My limbs were shaking.

“Keep going,” he commanded roughly. His expression was half-feral.

“I’m yours,” I panted. “I belong to you, Jackson. I’m so in love with you, it’s hopeless. You’ve ruined me. I wouldn’t be able to breathe without y⁠—”

Snap.

He kissed me, deep and relentless. And when my spine tried to curve with pleasure, he pressed into me, securing me in firm, unforgiving place.

I purred.

“You did that on purpose.” He bit my bottom lip, punishing it. “Here I was, planning on fucking you nicely on our wedding night, but that’s not what you need, is it, wife?”

“And what do you want? You wanna be gentle or leave a few bruises I’ll still be thinking about the next time I wear a wedding dress for you?”

His chest rumbled, pleased with my answer. “How did I get so fucking lucky with you?”

I smiled. “Good thing you didn’t let me drown that first night, huh?”

“I thought about it.”

“Shut up,” I giggled. “And here we are, thirteen months later. Who would’ve thought?”

His eyes sobered just a touch. “Best year of my life.”

“Same. Without question.” Huffing another small giggle, I sang, “Best friends for liiife.”

“Best friends for liiife,” he sang back. “I love you, darling. More than anyone, more than anything.”

I craned my neck, brushing his lips with mine when I whispered, “Prove it. Flip your wife over and give her what she wants.”

I didn’t have to ask twice.