I take another drink of my Scotch as I wait for my wife to come out of the bedroom. She kicked me out over thirty minutes ago and I’ve been impatiently waiting ever since. I don’t know if the burn in my chest is from the alcohol or the fact that I’m going to have to suffer through another one of these events. I’d rather send a check and be done with it, but it could be that I’m still irritated about everything that’s happened.

The Christmas lights on the tree sparkle and I think about having presents under it for our children next year. Maybe we should move and get a place outside of the city. I don’t know why I haven't thought about it sooner and I wonder what Blakely would say.

She’s never said if she enjoys being here or not. She’s told me several times that all she cares about is that where we live feels like a home and not a museum. My place hadn’t looked like anything before her. Most of it wasn't furnished when I brought her home, but it didn’t take long for her to change that. She took me to little antique shops all over the place until we found what we thought would fit best. There was something magical in watching her face light up when she found a simple five-dollar table that we could sand and refinish. She’s made this a place I want to come home to and now it’s cozy and warm just like she is.

I set down my glass and look down the hallway, debating if I should go and get her. I know with a few caresses I could get her to change her mind about going to this thing tonight and I want some alone time with her. She’s been so busy planning this wedding and I wonder if I should have given her more time. It’s a bitter pill to swallow because I want us married now, but I hate that she’s running around to try and make it perfect in such a short amount of time. It doesn't help that she won’t let me do anything. She’s told me repeatedly she wants it to be a surprise.

I check my phone to see if I have any new emails. We might be fixing the problem of not having a marriage license, but I still want to know how the fuck this happened to begin with. Someone has tried to come between my wife and me, and I won’t stand for it. Normally I might enjoy a hunt like this, but not when it comes to my dream girl.

“Has there been a change in the weather?” My head jerks up at the sound of her voice, and I suck in a breath when I see what she’s wearing.

“Where did you get that?” I ask, staring at the red dress that clings to her curves.

This dress shows off every inch of her lush body and my fingers itch to dig into her right now. It’s held up by a strap across one shoulder that looks like roses. It’s breathtaking, but more than anything it’s her—soft and sweet but a little bit wild and free with the bottom flaring out around her. I know that side of her is from her mom, and I wish I could have met the woman who gave me such a gift. The more I learned about her mother the more I realized that a piece of that was inside my wife. I made a silent vow that I will always do my best to pull that part of my wife out of her. The small piece that’s a bit of a hippy with a free spirit and love of life. It’s in there, but sometimes it hides under the shadows of her father.

“I know that stepmother of yours did not pick that dress out.” I get up and close the distance between us. I have to put my hands on her and remind myself that she’s real and she’s all mine.

“I take it that means you like it.” She looks up at me through her lashes, and though I shouldn’t enjoy how shy and innocent she looks, I do.

“I like you in anything,” I say as I run my finger along her pretty pink cheeks. She’s made me into a desperate man who can’t stand to be more than a few feet from her. I touch my finger under her chin to raise her head as I lean down and kiss her. “Or out of it.”

I want to take her back to our bedroom and have my way with her. She makes that cute humming sound in the back of her throat like she always does when she’s wet. My cock swells thinking about what that sweet juice will taste like and I want to get on my knees and find out.

“It’s only for a little while,” she sighs, and I know she’s asking me to be the strong one and not make her stay home. She’ll do it for me, but I can’t ask her to do that. I need to try and find some control, but even after all this time my need for her hasn’t cooled.

“I’m timing it,” I say, and she laughs.

I take her arm and we leave for the Vine event. Once we’re in the back of the town car she snuggles into my side and I know she must be tired. I had to drag her to bed last night and make love to her until she passed out or she would have stayed up all night working on wedding plans. I should have let her sleep, but I woke her up this morning with my cock deep inside her because I had to remind myself she’s still mine. I made her cum three times before I let her fall back asleep again.

I have a feeling her stepmother isn’t helping with the stress of wedding either. The woman likes things done a certain way and I know my sweet wife will try to make her happy. I clench my jaw and rub my thumb up and down Blakely’s arm to try and cool my anger. Her sweetness is wasted on them. I’ve spent years biting my tongue when it comes to them because I know how they can they be. That’s why I don’t feel any guilt about rushing our first wedding and moving her right into our home.

I didn’t want them there then and I don’t want them there now either. Not after her father pretty much offered me his daughter as payment for his debt. I actually went to the event the night I met her because I wanted to confront him about the off-hand remark he sent me in an email.

I got distracted by her and forgot why I went to the party in the first place, until her father introduced me to her. I didn’t know what game he’d been playing that night and I didn't care because she wasn’t a game to me. He didn’t have to offer her as payment because she was already mine the instant I saw her.

I won’t put Blakely in the middle of whatever bullshit her father has going on. I took her and washed my hands of what he owes me because I’m not going to take down her father even if I think he’s a piece of shit. I didn’t tell her about the email because I knew it would hurt her, but now I wonder if that was a mistake.

I’d shaken her world up enough when I came along and didn't want to add to it. I wanted her trust and I feared she would’ve believed her father over me. I could see from the start how much she wanted her family to like me, and I tried my best at first. But it didn’t take long before John’s ego took a hit and we stopped pretending.

He tried to backtrack, thinking he could use his daughter against me when he saw my clear interest in her. I try not to think about whether he’d ever made the same offer to someone else. I’d have to kill him and whoever the other man was.

“Daniel?” I glance down at Blakely and smile, hoping my anger isn't showing.

“You never told me if the weather changed.” Her eyes are hopeful, but we haven't had any snow this year and it isn't looking like we will be any time soon.

“I’m sorry, dream girl. There’s no snow in the forecast.”

I see her smile fall and it crushes me. She wants a white wedding and I can tell how much she’s disappointed. Why does she have to want something that I have absolutely no control over? Still, my mind can't stop trying to fix the problem for her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask Santa to make it happen,” I say and nuzzle against her. Her laughter fills the car and dissolves my residual anger.

“Are you going to behave tonight?” she asks as she smiles at me.

“Then you wouldn't have any fun,” I say against her skin as I graze my teeth along the shell of her ear. She shivers and I kiss her before pulling away. “You’re still in trouble for roping us into this, so don’t push your luck,” I warn.

She smiles bigger and leans against me so I can stare down her dress and to her cleavage. The car comes to a stop and the driver gets out to go around and open the door.

“I’ll take my punishment,” she whispers as she licks her lips. “Later.”

Just then she reaches for the door handle, but I grab her hand and stop her.

“Don’t even think about it.”