Page 103 of Sweet Wicked Vows

It was a sight to behold.

Letting go of her throat, both my hands explored her back. Running over each freckle, absorbing how her body shuddered at my touch, physically shaking as the orgasm refused to let go. I held onto her hips as I pulled her back all the way onto my cock. Thrust after thrust. Flesh slapping on flesh. Her wetness coated my cock and dripped down my thighs.

“Jaxon,” she breathed. “Come inside me. I want to feel it dripping out of me.”

That was all it took.

I came harder than I thought humanly possible.

The blood rushed from my head, black spots seizing my vision, as I filled her deeply with every last drop.

I’d never come so fucking hard before in my life.

Thick droplets of cum seeped out of her cunt, trailing down the insides of her thighs and onto the floor with my final weak thrusts.

Detaching myself from within her, I wrapped my arms around her and lifted her. She said nothing, simply putting her arms around my neck, as I carried her to my bedroom.

Lying in bed, I held her, soaking in the rise and fall of her chest. We didn’t say anything, with only our breaths filling the silence of the room.

Her sweet scent easing the unspoken battle forging in my mind.

My emotions never got the best of me.

I never acted without thought or reason. Every decision was calculated before action. Marrying her wasn’t my idea, but I went along with it because the gain outweighed the risk.

I was a man who never listened to the desires and whims of his heart.

But when it came to her, nothing made sense anymore.

I was falling deeper in love with Evelyn the longer we spent together, and I feared that her love for me wouldn’t be enough to allow her to forgive me when the truth broke free.

My head and heart were at war as I held her, but I decided for the rest of the night to let my heart take control.

Chapter ThirtyTwo

It turned out that not even death wanted a piece of Reynolds.

The morning after Laurence’s unexpected declaration to save Evelyn, she received a phone call from one of her father’s carers.

We were sitting at the kitchen table, my mind filled with scenes from the night before and unable to look away from the indents her nails left behind on the wood when she got the call.

I thought they were calling to announce the old man had finally bit the dust, but it turned out to be the complete opposite.

He was awake.

If I hadn’t been standing in Reynold’s bedroom, seeing him sitting upright in his bed, eating a bowl of porridge and laughing at something Flynn said, I’d have thought it was a joke.

The medical staff called it a miracle.

Evelyn was over the moon. She didn’t believe the phone call either, thinking that there must have been a mix-up, but sure as the sun shone, he was awake and seemingly healthier than before.

I hid my skepticism from them. Don’t get me wrong, medical miracles happened, yet witnessing Lexington hug his son like it was the last time, I didn’t believe I was in the midst of one.

Not wishing to further the war waging in my head by being around the man I was supposed to destroy, I left Evelyn and her brother alone with their father. I didn’t want to leave without mywife, so I busied myself exploring the rest of the house and was quick to find her former bedroom.

It resembled much of how our home was decorated. Gold and greens everywhere. She hadn’t taken everything with her to the home we shared, with still a lot of trinkets and personal items making up the room. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase still housed several books. I skimmed over the many romance titles. Near the bottom shelf were bundles of paper. Flicking through them, pride swelled in my chest at the recognition of Evelyn’s writing.

Articles. Blog pieces. Short stories. Workings of a novel.

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