Page 17 of Reckless Love

Seven

Worth the wait.

Those three words tumbled over and over in my mind like a jar of rocks polishing. But unlike the shiny stones revealed from the process, Wick’s words only got more confusing the longer I tried to figure out what he’d meant.

I’d woken up in my husband’s arms, having fallen into a deep sleep after he fucked me. The ache in my pussy was the only evidence of our night together. Wick must’ve stayed awake to clean up the mess between my thighs, because none of it existed when I sleepily blinked into consciousness.

I’d stirred, needing the bathroom, and I’d taken the time to clean up my face. Sleeping in yesterday’s makeup had left me looking like a rejected clown from a Halloween haunted house.

Seeing Wick awake when I exited the bathroom was a surprise, but he quickly told me to get ready. That a car would arrive soon to take us home. And then he left the bedroom to get ready in the guest bathroom at the entrance of the suite.

I’d stood there for a minute, wondering where the guy from last night had gone, before I turned on my heel and quickly grabbed my bag to get ready for the day. Within an hour, we were ushered toward the back of a black SUV that would take us to our Park Avenue home.

A driver softly greeted us, opening my door while Wick went around and got in on the street side. By the time I fastened my seat belt, Wick was already on his phone, listening to messages he must’ve missed during our wedding.

Sunday morning in the city was sleepy as the car drove north, and I wondered how often Wick worked through the weekends.

Ruining the livelihood of people must be an all-week-long type of job.

Bitterness festered in my chest as I turned away from him, wishing I could pull out my own phone, but I’d stupidly packed it in my overnight bag that was in the cargo space. Unless I wanted to climb over the row of bench seats behind us in a pencil skirt, I was out of options.

Not that I had anyone to text or call, but there were several levels of candy that needed a good crushing.

Quietly sighing, I settled myself against the buttery leather seat and watched the colors of the city melt together as we drove. Leaning against the headrest, I let my eyes drift closed as the motion of the car rocked me in a state of relaxation.

When the SUV stopped, I didn’t immediately stir, and I was surprised when I heard the driver speak.

“Sir, shall I?—”

“Have our bags brought to the front desk, Marcel,” Wick cut him off softly. “I’ll take my wife upstairs.”

Marcel cleared his throat. “Of course. Congratulations again. I know what this means to you.”

Wick was quiet. “She means everything to me.” Then he was opening the door, letting in the sounds of the city for a brief second before it was muffled again by the closing of the door. My eyes fluttered as my own door was pulled open.

Wick leaned into the car, a soft look on his face. “Time to wake up, sweetheart.”

“I’m awake,” I insisted. When he reached for me, I tried to brush him away. “I can walk.”

He quirked a brow. “I’m aware, but I figured it was tradition and all.”

I glanced over his shoulder at the shiny glass doors of the building where the driver—Marcel—was bringing both of our bags to one of two doormen. “Isn’t it customary to carry the bride over the threshold of the home?”

“I own the building.”

Of course he did.

Unable to help myself, I looked at the glass and concrete skyscraper that was trying to kiss the clouds above.

“Shall we, Mrs. Forrester?” Wick gave me one of those seductive smiles that had my brain melting. He didn’t wait for me to answer as he unbuckled me and lifted me into his arms.

“This is embarrassing,” I hissed, ducking my face as two people in sportswear paused their morning jog to let Wick carry me toward the open doors.

“Mr. Forrester,” the first doorman with a white beard and mustache greeted. He held open the door and nodded to the second man, who was disappearing into an elevator on the other side of the marble and chrome lobby.

“Cliff,” Wick greeted, pausing like we had all the time in the world. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Alessia.”

I was sure my cheeks were purple by now. “Hello,” I managed to squeak out.

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