CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

HOLLY

 

If I had been told six months earlier that I would one day be hooked on the Armani-clad arm of my fiancé in a room full of celebrities, I would have instructed you to check yourself into a psych ward.

And yet, that’s exactly how I had spent that night after being proposed to. It wasn’t much of a surprise to me that my social skills were lacking in the face of actors and rock stars, but that was partially because I was too busy marveling at Brandon. Despite his constant need to run a hand over his tightly ponytailed hair, he never faltered in keeping the conversation moving, whether he was talking to his mother or a member of the press. It was obvious why he was a public figure, and not just a guy hiding behind a desk writing stories.

Between being paraded around, drinking, struggling through star struck conversation, and eating some of the most lavish food I’ve ever eaten at a catered event, I finally found myself slumped in a seat at our table. Brandon continued to be a gracious host as I peeled my heels from my feet and laid my head on my folded arms, like a real lady.

Holly freakin’ Hughes. Obvious trophy wife.

Wife. Holy crap.

Brandon’s mother Carole placed a gentle hand on my arm. “Tired, honey?”

I looked up at her through bleary eyes, and it hit me suddenly that I was seeing my future mother-in-law. My heart jumped with sudden realization, and my breath caught momentarily in my throat. “Yeah, it’s been a long night,” I laughed, barely able to keep my eyes open, and she nodded sympathetically.

“Why don’t you head up to bed?” she asked in a sweet motherly tone.

Glancing behind me at Brandon, standing with a group of men in expensive suits and drinks in hand, I turned back to her with reluctance. “But what about the party? Wouldn’t it look bad if I left?”

With a wave of her hand, she said, “You’ve done plenty already, sweetie. Besides, I bet you have some people you want to call.” She gave me a knowing smile, and I laughed despite my exhaustion.

“Yeah, I should probably call my sister and tell her that, hey, not only am I not coming home tonight, but surprise! I’m getting married.” I said the words for the first time out loud. I glanced down at the ring on my hand, and grinned to myself.

Carole smiled along with me, and raised a hand, making a beckoning gesture. A few moments later, I breathed in the comforting scent of Tobacco Vanille, and I felt the large warm hands on my shoulders and a familiar kiss on my cheek.

“How’s it going over here?” Brandon asked, sitting next to me.

“I think I should go lie down,” I confessed regrettably. “Is that okay? I don’t know what’s, you know, acceptable.”

He nodded, squeezing my knee. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. This shouldn’t go on longer than an hour, give or take, so I’ll be up soon.” He turned to his mother. “How about you and Dad? Heading to bed? I know you guys aren’t used to being up past six.”

She reached over to swat him playfully. “Your father is at the bar, but I’ll be dragging him up to bed soon.”

“And everybody else?” Brandon asked, noticing the empty table around us.

“They already headed up,” I informed him.

“Well,” he said, leaning in to kiss me softly, “you go ahead. As soon as I can, I’ll be there.” He kissed me again before standing from the table, catching the adoring smile on his mother’s lips. “And hey, don’t mind her. She’s just thinking about all the grandkids you’re going to make her. No pressure.”

 

***

 

The bed was huge and exactly what I would have envisioned Heaven feeling like, or that could have been the fatigue talking. I had hung up from my last phone call for the night and told myself Esther would already be sleeping as I threw my cellphone onto the nightstand. I curled my knees to my stomach and closed my eyes, prepared to fall into a coma when the door opened and my fiancé walked in, already pulling at his bowtie and looking as though he had maybe a few too many glasses of Scotch.

He stumbled as he kicked off his dress shoes and threw his tuxedo jacket on the couch, and it hit me all at once that I was beginning the rest of my life with this incredible man who was so much more than anything I could have dreamed of.

And I deserve it. I deserve him.

He pulled his hair loose from the ponytail, shaking it out with his hands, and went to unbuckle his belt when he noticed my eyes were opened. “I figured you’d be sleeping,” he said with a warm smile, coming to sit next to me on the bed. Shaking my head, I told him I had spent the past hour making phone calls. He grunted a chuckle. “And now your family is officially convinced you’re insane, after accepting a proposal from the man you walked out on over a month ago?”

A stab of guilt hit my heart. “No, but I was insane for leaving, and then … God, I should have at least called, or I—”

“Yeah, and I should have never given you a reason to be upset in the first place.” Brandon reached a hand over to cup my shoulder. Through his dark eyelashes, his piercing blue eyes looked directly into mine. “Baby, we could both talk about everything we should have done since we first met, but why bother? The way I see it, we got to where we were supposed to be, and right now, that’s really all that matters.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Brandon shrugged his response, a little smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, and I asked the question I had been dying to get the answer to. “So, um, how long had you been planning this whole thing?”

“A week,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“A week? You only decided you wanted to marry me a week ago?”

“Oh, no.” He held a hand up before resting it on the curve of my hip. “I’ve known for months that I wanted to marry you, if I allowed myself to get that close, but it wasn’t until I was driving back from Florida that I decided I was going to ask you to be my wife.”

“Your wife,” I repeated. I shook my head, cupping my hands over my mouth. Deep breaths. “So, how did that happen?”

“I took a detour into the city, stopped at Tiffany’s, and bought the ring that spoke to me.” He squeezed my hip gently, biting his bottom lip. A lustful glimmer ignited a heat in his eyes as they traveled over the curves of my body.

“But what if I had said no?”

“That was never an option,” he said gruffly, his voice lowering to a whisper.

His hand came up against my cheek, stroking his thumb across to lay against my lips. My eyes closed as I kissed against the pad of his finger, and listened to the sharp inhale of his breath. I felt him lean over me, and he replaced his thumb with his lips; moving against mine softly before I opened my mouth to his whiskey tongue, reminding us both of how badly we wanted—needed—each other. I melted into the bed as he pulled back the blanket and groaned when he found I was naked. Through his wanton smile, he kissed along the curve of my collarbone and down between my breasts, taking a moment to suck slowly on one nipple before continuing his trail of kisses to just below my bellybutton.

I waited for him to move lower, desperately needing his mouth to relieve the built-up tension between my legs, but he stopped and I listened. I listened to the sound of his belt coming undone and listened as his pants hit the floor. My sense of touch was reignited then, as I felt his muscular build ease on top of me.

“Open,” he commanded, pushing my legs apart with the width of his hips. A duet of groans filled the room as he sunk into me, surrounding himself and filling me with the desire fueled by our coupled lust and love for each other.

“Holly,” he growled, and my toes curled at the sound of my own name. “Have I ever told you how fucking good it feels to be inside you?”

I grinned through a moan. “How good?” I asked between strangled breaths, gliding my hands down the length of his back to dig my fingers into the sensitive flesh of his tight ass. 

Strands of his hair fell forward as his forehead pressed into mine. His eyes held me with that hypnotic intensity, like a wolf staring down its prey. “So … fucking … good.” He emphasized his words with long, hard thrusts; burying himself until there was no telling where I began and he ended, pulling back until I was afraid he would leave me empty.

“How … profound, Mr. B. Davis.” I smiled playfully, gazing into the depth of his darkened blue eyes. “I can see why you’re a best-selling author.”

His face was taken over by a lopsided smile, crinkling his eyes at the corners. “Is it that obvious?”

I took in another look of his face before my eyes rolled, closing them to the sensations that passed through his body and into mine. I reveled in the want to feel everything. The breath against my face, labored and desperate. The pumping of his blood through the veins that made contact with my skin. The long, slick strokes that brought me closer to the brink of utter bliss. The beating of my heart that seemed to say, “He’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine.”

‘Til death do us part.

“How did … you know …” I began to say, reviving a dead conversation, but I was cut off by the fullness of his tongue in my mouth.

Brandon held the kiss as he flipped onto his back, pulling me with him. I backed away, sitting up to stare down at him as I raised myself up and down, gyrating against him. “Jesus Christ.” He moaned, tilting his head backward. “How did … I know … what?”

“That I would … say yes,” I said, running my hands over his stomach and up to the collar of his shirt.

He looked back to me, finding my eyes in the way he always did. “Because,” he said quietly, as my fingers began to unbutton his tuxedo shirt, “neither of us had made love before we found each other.”

“That’s so corny,” I laughed, panting.

“Yeah? Okay, then would you settle for the fact that I believe we’re destined to be together, and I was done throwing away time I could be spending as your husband?” His dark blue eyes stared intensely up at me.

Brandon freakin’ Davis. My husband.

I laughed again through the pressure in my throat, finishing the last button. “Still corny, but I’ll take it.”

I opened the shirt, spreading my hands over his smooth skin, and looked down with the intention of taking in the hardness of his chest and the ridges of his stomach, but my attention was pulled to a tattoo I had never seen before. I laid a hand over the left side of his breast, and breathlessly asked when he had gotten it done.

“Florida,” he replied, biting his lower lip as he dug his fingers into my hips.

I leaned forward, taking a closer look at the lettering made to look as though it were etched into stone. It read, “My heart has been taken, where it shall always be safe. My soul sings her name, with a map of her face. Strike me dead where I stand, I’ll remain alive with her grace.” Tears blurred my vision as I leaned in closer, pressing my lips to the inked skin.

I sat up, and Brandon noticed the pools in my eyes. “It’s from the new book,” he explained in a gruff voice, pulling a hand away from my waist to rest against my cheek. His face flushed a deeper shade of red. “I got it when—”

“I know,” I whispered, bending into him again to press my lips softly against his, and the rise and fall of my hips met the rhythm of my mouth. “Hey, you know what?”

“Hmm,” he replied, stroking his thumb against my cheek.

I lost myself in the deep blue of his eyes, and for the first time, I didn’t bother holding myself back from drowning. I didn’t have to. I knew I wasn’t alone.

I was never going to be alone again.

“Thank God people like you fall in love with people like me,” I said, brushing the hair away from his forehead.

“Yes.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Thank God.”