Chapter 37

It’s our last hour in Fiji, and sadness takes over as we load into the limo and drive to the airport. Yesterday, the Mustang was picked up for transport and will arrive in the city next week.

For twenty-four hours, we stayed inside, insatiable for one another. We slept, made love, and ate when hunger took over.

We walked the beach, swam in the ocean, and held each other under the southern hemisphere, studying a star-filled sky with constellations I didn’t know. It felt like being on another planet, like I’d taken over someone else’s life.

Still, I can’t believe it.

These six days being married to Easton have passed like a dreamless blur and I don’t want them to end, but we’re not in fairy-tale land anymore; it’s time to go home. The word feels foreign.

Something has changed.

Is this love? The four-letter word has plagued me for so long that I’m scared I’ll lose it if I find it. I tell myself that if I shield my heart now, the fall won’t be so destructive, and maybe if this does end one day, I can recover from my Easton Calloway addiction.

“What are you thinking about?” Easton wraps his arm around me and I lean into him as we breathe in the fresh beach air. The window is down, and the sunroof is open, allowing the early morning rays to leak in.

“You. Us,” I admit. My words float in the air.

“I’m going to miss this,” he mutters, placing soft kisses on my neck and against my hair.

I know he’s not talking about the island or the beach. He’s referring to the uninterrupted time we were given to spend together.

“You’re my priority, pretty girl.”

I don’t want to get attached, but I know it’s too late.

“Easton, your job is your priority. That doesn’t change because of us. It’s the reason there is even an us,” I say, knowing that he’ll return to work tomorrow and he needs to be prepared. In his world, a lot can happen in two weeks. If anything, I’m proof of it.

He smirks. “Don’t do that.”

I turn to him. “Do what?”

His dark, messy hair is pushed to the side. Deep blue eyes, which change color depending on what he’s wearing, stare back at me. I glance at the light brush of freckles on his nose that are barely noticeable, but I’ve kissed and memorized every single one since we said I do.

Easton Calloway is a thirst trap, and he’s quenched every one of mine.

“Don’t act like something will be different between us when we return to New York.”

“It will. How many days until you take over the company?” I ask, meeting his eyes.

“Twenty-six,” he exhales.

I smile, knowing he’s been counting. It’s what he does. He counts down everything—from his relationships to the seconds of his day.

I study him. “Don’t lose sight of that, okay? That was important to you. I don’t want it to change.”

“Sorry, darling, you don’t get to decide my priorities when your name is at the top of the list.”

“But—”

His lips crash into mine; his hand gently rests on my cheek. “Nothing changes, Lexi,” he whispers against my mouth. “Especially not how I feel about you.”

And I want to believe him so fucking much that it hurts.

“Some days will be easy, and some days will be hard. That’s what I signed up for when I agreed to marry you,” I say, repeating what he told me. It was a truth.

“So, let’s enjoy the good days while we’re living them instead of missing them like they’re already gone,” he says, kissing me more slowly.

He tastes like me.

I inhale the tropical soap on his skin, wanting to remember this, us, just like this.

“How did you know that’s what I was doing?”

“Because I see you, Lexi. I can feel what you’re thinking by how your breathing changes or by the expression on your face,” he admits. “I’m not letting you push me away. Each time you do, I’ll purposely pull you in even harder. You do realize that, don’t you?”

“Is that a threat?” I ask, wearing a devious grin.

“It’s a fucking promise, wifey.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “For a minute, I thought you were getting soft on me.”

He whispers in my ear, “I’m never soft when you’re around.”

I glance down at his shorts, and he’s hard; the outline of his thickness can’t be missed in those khakis.

I rub my palm against his cock—my cock, the one that belongs to me now—and his breathing increases. I follow the scruff down his jaw to his quickening pulse.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, in awe that I have this man.

“I was thinking the same about you,” he says as I undo the top button and slowly bring the zipper down.

Easton lifts his hips and his cock flings out at full attention.

“That’s a loaded weapon,” I tell him, surrounding his tip with my lips, bobbing down.

I pull him out with a pop and lick down the vein that runs the length of him. He’s so fucking thick that I have trouble fitting him in my mouth at certain angles. I reposition myself so I can take him to the back of my throat. Gently, I grab his balls, and he lets out a groan when my free hand slides up his stomach.

“Lexi,” he whispers, fisting my hair, giving me little tugs that have me squeezing my thighs together.

I want to make him feel so fucking good that he never forgets who he belongs to, temporary or not.

“My bad girl,” he growls out, his hips bucking upward.

I love watching him climb to the top, and I hold him there until he nearly begs, but he won’t. He never does because he loves to watch me play. He enjoys giving me control.

I stroke and suck and lick until he’s nearly trembling. I lift my maxi dress and straddle him. The only thing between us is my panties.

“I feel how wet you are,” he groans and moves my panties to the side.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I need you.”

We had each other for breakfast; now, we’re onto brunch.

I slide out of my panties, making it easier to take him all in. Whimpers release from me as my pussy devours every inch. I’m wet, needy, and when he grazes his thumb across my clit, my body begs for more. It doesn’t take much when we’re together.

Minutes pass like seconds, and our pace slows when Easton is close, teetering on the edge. Our breathing increases, and with his lips and teeth on my neck, we tumble into the abyss together.

The orgasm rips through us and the warmth of him pools deep inside me as we lose ourselves in the moment. When I’m with him, the fog doesn’t clear, and I hope it never does.

After we clean up, I slide my panties over my body.

He searches my face. “Are you happy?”

“You know I am. You can read me too well.”

He smirks. “I can. Just testing you. Also, you must promise not to be mad at me when I tell you something.”

“Uh, no,” I say.

He pulls out his phone, takes a picture of me, and turns it for me to see. “Are those hickeys and teeth marks?”

I chew on the corner of my lip, touching where he was.

He tilts his head, watching my reaction, and fucking smirks. “You like that I marked you.”

I can’t deny it. “I like the world knowing that you chose me.”

“They know,” he says. “They all fucking know. And I’d choose you a hundred more times if I could.”

Butterflies flutter and I ask myself if this was ever pretend. The silence draws on as I try to pinpoint the moment I felt the spark between us.

“What are you in your head about, darling?” he asks, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes.

I laugh, hating that he can do that so well. “Stop reading me.”

“You make it too easy,” he mutters as the car takes a turn.

It’s the last stretch of road before we arrive. Soon after, we’ll be on a private jet, flying to the city.

“I was trying to figure out when this happened, when I …”

“Fell for me?” He chuckles. “I knew you were the one the first time our eyes locked.”

His admission has my pulse quickening. “I felt something too. Maybe we shifted timelines together.”

“It feels like that,” he says.

When we board, we’re giddy smiles and desperate kisses. We move to the executive seats in the middle of the plane and I take the window, as always.

The only proof we have of what happened lives in our minds. It’s sealed with truths and precious metals wrapped around our fingers.

“Did you know this would happen?” I ask, snuggled in his arms as the plane takes off.

“What’s that?” He meets my eyes.

I close the window blind and turn to him. “That I’d be eating out of your palm by the end of your vacation.”

He licks his fuckable lips. “Fourteen days is all it’s ever taken for someone to fall in love with me.”

My mouth falls open and I shake my head. “All of it was by design.”

I think about the length of time he’d date people—fourteen days.

“Yes, and this trip was a Trojan horse.” He laughs, kissing my forehead before brushing his nose against mine. “It’s just, this time, I fell too.”

“No.” I shake my head. “The difference is, you fell first. And harder.”

“Fuck yes, I did,” he whispers, capturing my mouth. “And I’d do it again. Ten out of five.”

Could we really have fallen in love so quickly? When I look into his eyes, the answer is yes. Easton’s tough as nails, and even though he hides his vulnerabilities under his suit, they exist alongside mine.

When the outside factors are stripped away, we’re two humans who care, crave adventure, and want to be loved and loved in return.

Together, we’re safe. Apart, we’re dangerous.

And I find comfort in knowing I’ve finally met my match.

When we’re back in the States, a car awaits us to take us to the diamond in the sky. Our bags are loaded as we slide inside. Easton has his phone in his hand, and I’ve got mine. Neither of us has powered them on.

I glance down at it like it’s a curse. “I don’t want to deal with this until tomorrow, after I’ve slept.”

The flight was long. We left early this morning and hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Easton has to be at the office in a handful of hours. Our time together is slipping through my fingers like sand.

He returns it to his pocket. “You’re right. It can wait.”

The car slows before the high-rise and we exit. Easton wraps his arm around me and holds me close as the doors to the building slide open. When we’re on the elevator, he kisses my forehead and wraps his arms around me.

When we finally enter the diamond in the sky, the lights are low. The golden city surrounds us, the buildings shining bright.

Easton smiles, capturing my attention in a snap. In moments like this, I have a hard time remembering who I was before I unapologetically barged into this man’s life.

“Home sweet home,” I say, seeing my new books we bought in Texas stacked high on the counter.

Easton yawns, and I can see how tired he is.

“Shall we go to bed?” I ask, and he loops his finger into mine as we climb the stairs.

“Do you want to pick a room?”

I laugh and he tilts his head.

“Yours.”

He grabs my elbow, brushing his thumb against my skin, and smiles. “Ours. Only confirming you haven’t changed your mind about us.”

“I’m not leaving the center of whatever mattress you’re sleeping on unless you want me to,” I admit.

“So, never. Got it.” He gives me a boyish grin and I nearly melt right there.

Easton takes a quick shower and I jump in with him as we rinse the day off our bodies. Then, we climb between his silk sheets and he holds me against his chest. I fall asleep to the calm sound of his beating heart.

My eyes flutter open with Easton’s cock pressed into my back. His breathing is smooth and even and I know he’s still sleeping. I glance out at the twinkling lights of the surrounding buildings and let out a content sigh, wishing I knew what the future held.

“Go to sleep,” Easton whispers in my ear. His voice is a sexy gruff.

I suck in a deep breath and smile on an exhale.

I want my thoughts to let me go so I can drift off to dreamland with him again, but my mind races. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I know,” he says. “Meet me for lunch tomorrow.”

“Burgers?”

“I’d love that,” he tells me, his chin on my shoulder.

His breath floats against the nape of my neck, his chest against my bare back. His hand slides into my panties and I sigh heavily when he touches me.

“Fuck,” he growls as my hips buck forward, giving him access to my wet slit.

It doesn’t matter how much of him I have; I always ache for more.

I bite on my bottom lip, knowing it won’t take much to get me off. My breathing turns into pants, and soon, I’m sliding out of my panties. Easton is on top of me, burying himself deep inside. I grab on to the sheets with my fists as he pumps into me.

“Easton,” I groan, opening my thighs, wanting him to break me in half. “I want to feel where you’ve been tomorrow.”

“Mmm, you will,” he says as I cry out, the pleasure too much to bear.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers. “So fucking in love.”

And like a summer breeze, we’re whisked away, chasing total ecstasy and finding it together. The two of us collapse after only temporarily satisfying an insatiable hunger.

The next time I wake, I reach over to an empty California king. Where he was is cold to the touch. Based on how high the bright sun is, Easton’s been gone for hours.

I notice a small sheet of paper on the nightstand.

The outside reads, One Week Married to You.

I open it, and there’s a drawing of me sleeping in bed this morning. I glance at the vantage point, knowing exactly where he was standing as he drew this, and I can imagine him there with the intense expression on his beautiful face as he sketched everything, down to the knobs on the drawers of the nightstand. The detail of my hair, the crumpled blankets, and the curve of my back are impressive.

When I unlock my phone, I see it’s ten minutes until ten. It’s the latest I’ve slept in since I crashed into Easton at the W. I needed sleep after gallivanting around the world with a man I’d only dreamed existed.

I go downstairs, wearing one of Easton’s T-shirts, and move to the kitchen. I stand on my tiptoes and grab my mug from the cabinet, pulling it down and sliding it under the espresso machine. After looking around the gadget, I press a button on top. A song plays, the beans grind, and seconds later, a beautiful, dark espresso drips into my cup.

“No way,” I say, glancing down at the crema floating at the top. I swirl it around, inhaling it.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Easton says from a speaker on the counter. His face pops up on the screen.

I lean over and rest my chin on my hand. “Good morning, hubby.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Better with you,” I mutter, not fully awake.

“Those panties,” he says. “Mmm. My only regret is not being there right now.”

I look over my shoulder and notice the cameras in the corners of the rooms. Having cameras inside your house is a rich people thing. “Lunch still?”

“Yes,” he says, checking his watch. “A car will be there for you in forty minutes.”

“Forty?”

He nods. “Please don’t be late.”

“I’ll be ready, just for you,” I tell him, blowing on the hot liquid.

He smirks and the screen goes black.

“I know you’re still watching,” I say, glancing around at the cameras as I sit on one of the eight stools that line his long marble counter. “Oh, wow, this coffee is great. Kudos. Guess you do have good taste.” I snicker and lift the mug.

“Alexis,” Easton says from the monitor on the counter.

I glance over my shoulder at him, and it’s almost like he’s here.

“You’re distracting me.”

“Stop making it so easy,” I say. “I’m sitting here, minding my business, drinking espresso.”

“Looking like a cocktease.” He chuckles. “I have to be in a meeting in two minutes. I’m sure everyone is waiting for me.”

He stands, showing me his pants and how his cock is nearly bursting the seams. The outline of him in his suit pants is a fucking sight to see. But I know how it feels to want someone so damn bad that it hurts—him specifically.

He shakes his head and sits back in his chair. “But I’m so fucking hungry for you.”

A mischievous grin sweeps across my face and I flip my hair over to one side as I move closer to the screen, like it will give us privacy.

“Why don’t you have me for lunch instead?”

His eyes flutter closed as he scoots further back in his chair. He’s contemplating it.

“I might be bad for business,” I whisper.

“But fucking fantastic for me, darling. Tempting, but I have to go. Have a wonderful day, and I’ll see you soon.” He blows me a kiss.

I catch it, wanting to steal his attention a little longer, but refuse to be his greatest distraction. “You too.”

The video chat ends, for real this time, and I lean against the counter. Neither of us is wrapped around the other’s finger; we’re handcuffed together, and there is no key.

I glance at the pink diamond, the stone he reserved for the one. And it’s on my finger.

I walk to the windows and view the park below. It’s busy with people enjoying the summer weather.

I finish my coffee, and rinse out the mug, then I glance at my cell phone. It’s like a poisonous snake waiting to strike.

I know what Easton and I did—secretly eloped. We robbed everyone of the experience of attending the wedding of the century.

I avoid reality a little longer and go upstairs. When I enter Easton’s closet, I stand in shock. It’s the size of Carlee’s apartment. It’s essentially a department store. Every color—blue, black, gray—is available in ties, suits, and shirts. And I imagine Easton wearing every single one. Polo shirts, khaki, and sailing shoes. Shorts, vintage band T-shirts, and tennis shoes galore. At least he has style.

On the other side are beautiful ball gowns, pantsuits, and dresses. One section has graphic tees and ripped jeans from black to blue to white. Converses, in every shade, all my size. I glance at one of the T-shirts, and it says, Billionaire Obsessed, in cursive.

I burst into laughter and slide it on. “Smart-ass.”

I grab a pair of jeans, noting that the tag reads Gucci. Another pair is Balenciaga. These are designer clothes. My eyes scan over everything he purchased, and it’s well over six figures. I want to know how he pulled it off without me knowing.

A small dresser with a mirror on top sits between summer and winter wear. There’s a card folded in half with my name scribbled across it. I smile when I notice Easton‘s handwriting.

Surprise, darling. I knew you’d find this eventually.

“He’s so good at this,” I say, bending over to put on shoes.

As I straighten to stand, I glance into the full-length mirror. My fingers trail across my neck, where Easton lost control. Light bruises pepper my delicate skin. I decide to wear my hair up so no one misses it. If we’re giving us a real chance, everyone needs to understand he’s mine—at least for now.

When I’m downstairs, I grab my phone, and it feels foreign in my hand. I haven’t turned it on in a week because we were lost together. I press the button and wait.

The headlines quickly load after I type his name into the search bar.

EASTON CALLOWAY IS OFF THE MARKET.

EASTON CALLOWAY IS MARRIED!

EASTON CALLOWAY FOUND HIS FOREVER WOMAN!

EASTON CALLOWAY AND HIS WIFE!

EASTON CALLOWAY MARRIES DOWN!

EASTON CALLOWAY’S FAKE MARRIAGE

THE DIAMOND PRINCE HAS WED.

I see countless pictures of us together in Fiji. When we were there, everything disappeared. It felt like it was just us. We were foolish.

The text messages flood in, along with missed call notifications from Carlee, Remi, my mom, and my brothers. It’s too much.

I sit back on the cushion, wishing it would swallow me as my phone buzzes.

The front door swings open and I make eye contact with Easton. I can barely speak as he bolts toward me with fire in his eyes. I stand up to greet him and his hand finds its way behind my neck, pulling me closer.

I laugh against his lips. “What are you doing here?”

“I canceled the meeting,” he said. “I didn’t give a fuck. I needed you.” He lays me back on the couch. “I chose you.”

“Reckless,” I say, running my fingers through his hair, wanting him closer.

“You’re right. You might be bad for business.”

He stands, removing his suit jacket and tie. I join him, pushing his shirt from his shoulders, then remove his belt and slide his pants down.

When he reads my shirt, a howl of laughter escapes him. “Surprised?”

“You’re too good to me,” I tell him as he quickly removes my shoes, pants, and panties like a magician.

“You make me want to be better. I’m a better man because of you.”

He parts my thighs and sinks deep inside me. We’re desperate, like the six hours we were separated was too much.

Deep grunts release from him as I nearly gasp for air. We greedily chase our high, pushing one another to climax, as if we were running a marathon. He pumps inside of me hard; our moans mix, creating a symphony of passion. I don’t ever want this to get old. I don’t want anything to change.

My muscles seize and I base-jump off the cliff as I come, the orgasm rocking through me. It’s so intense that it nearly shatters me to pieces as guttural groans come from my throat.

“Fuck,” he growls, continuing to slam into my cunt until he loses himself.

We’re breathless, but we still find enough air to slowly kiss one another.

“When I left the office, I felt like an addict. Nothing else mattered but you.”

“I know. You do that to me too,” I whisper. “It’s what makes us dangerous for one another.”

He brushes his nose against mine. “Fuck, I know.”

“I always wished someone would look at me like you do.”

“Relatable.”

He places a soft kiss on my lips, and we lie in each other’s arms until Easton’s phone buzzes, pulling us away. We clean up and redress.

Easton checks his watch once he straightens his tie. “I can’t do lunch, not with the traffic being as bad as it is. I’m sorry, darling.”

“Don’t apologize unless you regret what we did instead,” I say.

He smirks. “Zero fucking regrets anytime I choose you.”

I grab his tie, tugging him toward me. His lips brush against mine.

“Same.”