Page 119 of Hate to Love You

“I never hated you,” she mutters with a smile that trembles around the corners of her lips.

I cock an eyebrow at such a blatant lie. “Sure, you did, and we both know it.”

“Fine, so maybe I did.” The smile fades as she grows serious. “But that was before I got to know the man you truly are. The one I’ve fallen in love with. You’re so much more than I ever realized and now…now I can’t imagine a life without you in it.”

“You’ll never have to,” I promise solemnly. Because I can’t help myself, I angle my head and sweep my lips across hers. Right away, she opens as if greedy for what only I can give her.

Always…Always so greedy. And I fucking love it.

I pull away just enough to ask, “So…any interest in christening this place before we put in an offer?”

She bursts out laughing like I’m joking around. “Brody…”

“I’m completely serious, Davies.” Breaking apart, I drag her to the master bedroom, which, if I remember correctly, has a plush area rug we can take advantage of. “Let’s go make this place ours.”

Epilogue

Brody

Two years later…

The door to the condo opens and in strolls my wife.

Yup, that’s right.

My wife.

We’ve been married for two months. Oh, you better believe I locked that shit down. As soon as I wrapped up my first season with the Milwaukee Mavericks, we got hitched and took a two-week honeymoon in Bora Bora. The place we stayed in was ultra-secluded, which is a polite way of saying that there was a whole heck of a lot of naked beach time going on.

Goddamn, I miss seeing my wife frolicking in the water with nothing more than a sunhat. Come hell or high water, we’ll be heading back to the island for two weeks every year if I have anything to say about it.

Because I’m in the running for a husband-of-the-year award, dinner is already plated and waiting on the terrace for Natalie. It’s just something simple—salad and spaghetti. During the off-season, I like to try my hand at some new recipes. Although I’m not under any illusions that I’m some kind of wizard in the kitchen. But, by the number of BJs I’ve received lately, I’d have to say that my culinary efforts are very much appreciated. And since I’m quick on the uptake, you bet your ass I’ll continue to have dinner waiting for my wife after she puts in a long day at the office.

Now, would I love it if she didn’t work and we could spend more time together—naked and in bed, preferably? Hell, yeah. But a career in personal finance is what Natalie wants. And all I want is for my woman to be happy. We make this relationship work by supporting each other. That’s never going to change.

“Hey, babe,” I say as she joins me in the living room. “Dinner and a glass of wine are already waiting for you on the terrace.”

Natalie flashes me a grateful smile and slips off her heels before pulling the rubber band from her hair so that the shiny strands fall in a thick curtain around her shoulders.

An arrow of lust shoots through me as I watch her. But it’s more than that. So much more than I ever could have expected when I caught my first glimpse of her across a crowded lecture hall.

How the fuck did I get so lucky?

I have no idea, but I’m going to hold on to it with both hands and never let go.

“Have I told you how much I love you lately?” she asks.

“Nope.” I point to my lips. “Give me some sugar, sugar.”

She smirks and saunters over, twining her arms around my neck and pulling my face down to meet hers. “I love you,” she whispers huskily before feathering her mouth against mine.

I immediately open and her tongue sweeps inside. The simple caress gives me an erection. Dinner is now the last thing on my mind. I want to pick Natalie up and carry her to the bedroom. I think the spaghetti will be just fine heated up in an hour or so. And if it’s not, we’ll order takeout.

Been there, done that.

“I love you, too,” I growl.

Unable to wait a moment longer, my fingers attack the buttons of her shirt. She looks sexy as hell in a silky white blouse and tight pencil skirt that hits right above her knees. And let’s not forget the black heels.

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