Page 159 of Carnal Wagers

“Happy until the end.”

“Happy,” she repeated.

We met in a kiss that put to shame all others we’d shared. It was both a confession and a promise, heady and intoxicating, wrapped in a pledge of more to come. For whatever time we had together, I’d make the most of it with no regrets and no guilt. This wasn’t something that anyone could steal from me unless I let them.

Gut twisted tight with nerves, I dug out the engagement ring I’d meant to propose with and held it out between us. Logically, we were married. She had no reason to refuse, especially after our exchange of vows, but I felt suspended in time as her eyes jumped between the diamond and me. My skin suddenly felt too tight. I cleared my throat and slowly slipped it on her finger. It was a perfect fit, just like her.

Chapter 38

The ring sparkled on my finger, each diamond’s facet scintillating in iridescent flashes against the white glint of the jewels. It was a stark contrast to the fall colors and greens of the forest around us. Delicate and elegant yet sharp and imposing, it was everything I’d have picked for myself in a boutique, and he’d chosen it. This man who’d pushed me away at every turn and kept everyone at a distance knew me better than I’d ever imagined, and a thrill rushed through me at what life had to offer us now that we’d accepted each other, with nothing hidden between us anymore.

“How?” I asked. “When did you buy this?”

Considering he was constantly with me over the last month and a half, it was a valid question.

“I had it commissioned the day after you gave me your list. I was practically in love with you already. I only needed some time to get things sorted.”

Namely, our divorce, which we were absolutely not going through with anymore. Or discussing, for that matter, ever again.

“So then, where’s yours, since it’s now a wedding ring?”

A wry, lopsided smirk twitched at one corner of his mouth. “Was thinking of getting your name branded on, so you’d be mine forever.”

“Do I get to choose the script?”

“Only if you’ll wear my name too.”

His words wrapped me in a soft blanket and held me snug. “Deal.”

“Come on, get dressed,” he said, pulling me up. “I have a surprise for you.”

I groaned. “I am starting to hate surprises.”

“Trust me, you’ll like it.”

“Excuse me for being a little hesitant after this blindsiding ‘romantic’ surprise you prepared for me today.”

He barked out a laugh, and birds sprang into flight at the sound, beating their wings to get away from the predatory noise. His gaze gleamed with mirth.

“Nothing like that. This is the continuation of what should have been a very romantic proposal.”

“Not the vote of confidence you think it is, since I didn’t get said proposal.”

“Relax, woman, and let me charm you.”

“You do know how to be charming when you want to. Just leave the edging at the door.”

He winked and unfastened the dangling straps around my limbs, placing a wet kiss on each wrist. “You’ve yet to see everything in my arsenal, love. I can’t wait to show you.”

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I smacked his ass as he bent to retrieve our clothes. In retaliation, he tossed my thermal pants at my face—the only bottoms that had survived his savage behavior and still had crotch coverage—and I sputtered on the fabric. He was lucky I was going along with this surprise, or I’d have tackled and tickled him to oblivion for that.

A chill ran up through the slit in my leggings and underwear. Goosebumps riddled my skin, and shivers racked my shoulders. Somehow, he’d made me forget about the low temperature with the heat of his body and the torture of withholding my orgasms. Now it was catching up with me.

I slipped on the thermal pants. They fit loosely, being a couple of sizes too big, and hung off my hips, but they were better than nothing in this weather. No matter how unflattering, they didn’t stop Cillian from demonstrating his appreciation for my body. He locked onto my hips and tugged me against his once again raging hard-on. It poked and rubbed at the cleft of my glutes, sending a fresh wave of desire over me.

Every day together, he made me more and more aware that I didn’t need my hair dolled up, flawless makeup, or designer outfits to keep his attention. A pair of baggy sweatpants or pajamas had yet to stop him from bending me over and pulling my bottoms down to have his way with me, nor had bed hair or smudged mascara made him withhold a kiss.

“Again?”