Chapter 24

I chuckle as I pant up at the ceiling. “Good.”

“Good?” He’s struggling for air, his breathing labored. “Doesn’t feel good, feels terrifying.”

“Well . . .” I shrug casually as if I have this type of conversation every day. “You love me . . . I love you . . . the rest of it is semantics.”

He frowns over at me in question.

I get out of bed to collect the blankets that are all over the floor. “It’s going to take you a while to get used to, Hen. Relying on one person isn’t easy.”

He leans up on his elbow as if interested. “Do you feel like this?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Now I’m really acting hard. I go to the bathroom and clean myself up. I walk back out to the bedroom to see the tortured man in my bed. I apply my face moisturizer as he watches me.

“Did you plan our trip?” I ask him to change the subject. He’s two seconds from having a full-on meltdown. “We’re going to the snow, right?”

His eyes flick over. “You said the beach.”

I giggle. “Just checking you’re listening to me. How much do I owe you for this trip? Tell me so I can transfer it over.”

“This is my surprise for you.”

“I don’t want you paying for everything. That’s not fair.”

He reaches over and pulls me toward him. He arranges my body over his and holds me tight. “Shut up, I am.”

I relax against his chest. “You know, breaking and entering is a crime, right?”

I feel him smile above me. “You gave me a key.”

“When?”

“When your dog was barking and you told me to put him inside if he didn’t calm down.”

“Aah.” I smile as I think back. Seems like ten years ago that we had that conversation. “Keep it—put it on your key ring.” I kiss his chest. “This is my new favorite thing.”

“Me waiting in bed for you like a puppy?” He sighs, disgusted.

“Being punished for you loving me.”

“Yeah, well, shut up, or I’ll fucking do it again.” He pokes me in the ribs, and I laugh as I try to get away from him. He rolls over the top of me and kisses me tenderly, his erection growing against my leg once more. His lips linger over mine as a moment of perfect clarity runs between us. We’re the perfect storm, where normality feels wrong and the forbidden feels hot.

I want to lighten the moment, remind him that it’s okay to be us.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been a bad girl, Mr. James,” I whisper as I play with him. “Please don’t hurt me, sir.”

I see fire flicker in his eyes as he spreads my legs with his knee.

I roll my lips to hide my smile. Dirty talk is his kryptonite, the one thing that I know brings him out of his own head and back into the moment with me.

“What would my father say if he knew his closest friend was about to take liberties with his untouched daughter? I’m barely of age.”

He chuckles, his teeth grazing my neck as I feel his arousal teeter on the dangerous.

“Please don’t mark me, sir . . . I beg you.”

He surges forward, claiming every inch, pinning me to the bed. “Giddy the fuck up.”

Henley strides in front of me through the airport terminal. He’s wheeling our two suitcases and taking charge of everything. Amused, I follow him along.

We’ve had a big day, and he’s been in drill sergeant mode. Organizing Chloe, Barry, his father, our houses, his business. Everything has been planned with perfect precision.

This is who he is.

Henley James likes control; nothing is left to chance.

The more vulnerable he feels, the more organized and structured he gets, and that’s fine with me. He can be that enough for the two of us. I couldn’t care less about things being perfect the way he does.

Every night this week, he has been waiting in my bed for me. We’ve fucked. We’ve made love, laughed, and talked into the wee hours. It’s been the perfect week that’s brought us closer.

When we’re alone, he seems to have gotten his head around us . . . although that could be only because of all the dirty talk I’m doing.

All aboard the slut bus.

However, when we’re in public together, it’s a different story. He struggles with the couple thing, and I get it.

Henley James is a work in progress—a very entertaining work in progress.

We walk up to the check-in agent. “Hello, we’re checking in for a flight today, please,” Henley says as he passes over our two passports.

“Thank you.” She looks at our passports and types into her computer. “Here you are, two tickets to Thailand.”

His eyes flick to me, unimpressed, and I smile goofily. He didn’t tell me where we are going. It was supposed to be a surprise.

I grab his hand, and he rolls his lips; I know he desperately wants to give her a hard time for ruining his plan.

“There you go, Mr. James.” She smiles. “Pop your wife’s luggage onto the conveyor belt.”

He clears his throat as if holding in a fit.

“Now yours, sir.” He puts his suitcase on, and she weighs it and then hands us our boarding passes. “Have a great trip.”

“Thank you.” He turns and gestures for me to walk in front of him.

“We’re going to Thailand?” I whisper excitedly.

“Yes.”

I beam at him and link my arm through his. “I’m so excited. You are so getting laid tonight.”

“Like I wasn’t anyway.” He widens his eyes as if I’m stupid.

“Whereabouts in Thailand?” I whisper as we walk through security.

“Koh Samui.”

“Oh,” I gasp. “I always wanted to go there.”

We walk along, my arm linked through his. “We can get massages on the beach, drink cocktails, and oh my god, Hen, this is going to be the best week of all time.”

He smirks as he listens to me raving on.

“I was listening to what she was saying and hoping that she would let it slip, and when she did . . . ,” I continue as we walk along to the airport lounge.

“There was only one thing I heard her say throughout that check-in,” he replies.

“What?”

“When she called you my wife.”

“Oh . . .”

His eyes hold mine. “I liked it.”

My stomach flips as we stare at each other. “Me too.”

I want to say something playful and fun, but it doesn’t seem to fit here.

He liked it.

We are taking steps forward in leaps and bounds here.

We arrive at the airport bar and take a seat. “What do you want to drink?” he asks.

“I’m celebrating with a margarita.” I smile.

“Good idea.” He disappears to the bar, and I sit alone at the table and have a mini meltdown. I can’t believe that just happened.

He liked me being called his wife. This is progress.

This is big!

Huge.

He arrives back at the table with our two drinks and slides mine over to me and holds his up. I clink my glass with his and take a sip. “Thank you.”

I mutter into my glass, “I don’t know if you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into by taking me to Thailand.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m a stripper in Thailand, you know?”

His eyebrow raises as if impressed. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.” I smirk, proud of myself.

He sips his margarita. “Well, anal with a stripper, I’m good with that.”