Page 12 of Texting the Enemy

“You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, and I’m in love with every aspect of you,” Ford continues, and I feel my eyes start to sting with emotion. “I love your sass, your intelligence, your passion. Every day, I’m thankful for you calling that meeting to chew my ass out over your budget.”

“It worked out!” I agree, through joy and happy tears.

“That it did. Faith, baby, I have a question for you,” he says, his smile as wide as mine. “Will you marry me?”

I’m already nodding before he gets to finish his question. “Yes! Yes, oh my God, of course I will.”

He slides the ring onto my finger, a perfect fit, the princess-cut diamond glittering through my teary eyes. Seconds later, he’s on his feet and I’m in his arms, kissing him and spinning around as, through the windows, we hear people clap and cheer for us.

There are no words for how happy I am, but I know Ford will spend the rest of our lives making me feel this way.

I can’t wait.

EPILOGUE

FORD

Two Years Later

After two years of being engaged and planning, Faith and I finally got married a week ago. Of course, Faith’s best friend, Natalie, was Faith’s maid of honor and did a whole speech about the mis-sent text and how we got together that had me rolling in laughter and Faith blushing furiously. The day was utterly perfect, but from the second I saw my wife in that white dress, I just wanted to be alone with her to show her exactly how much I love her. Thankfully, now that we’re on our honeymoon, I have ample time to do just that.

St. Lucia is absolutely gorgeous, but it has nothing on my wife. I could travel the whole world and never find a sight that takes my breath away the way that Mrs. Faith Grant does. Her hair is wavy from the salt air, hanging loose down her back as the breeze plays with the golden strands, and her skin has started to tan from the sun, creating tan lines in the shape of her bikini straps.

I’m thinking about all the ways I can run my tongue over those tan lines when I catch sight of the emails open on her phonein her hand. Instantly, I close the distance between us, reaching around to snatch the device from her hand. Just like I thought, she’s sneakily checking her work email.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, closing the tab and turning her phone off, setting it on the sideboard away from her reach.

“I was just?—”

“Checking your work email when you’re supposed to be relaxing?” I ask, and can’t help but chuckle at the guilty face Faith makes.

“Oops,” she says, shrugging while still smiling, clearly taking joy in winding me up just like always.

“You little brat,” I tease, shaking my head at her as she grins up at me.

“You love it,” she says back because no matter how much we banter and wind each other up, we both love the dynamic we have.

“I love you,” I answer, then strike, grabbing her by the waist and throwing her over my shoulder while she squeals. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll let you get away with this.”

“Ford!” Faith shrieks as I take off running, heading straight to the section of private beach that sits just in front of our honeymoon villa.

I run straight into the sea, laughing at the noises she makes as the warm water surrounds us. Careful not to let the water get on her face, I swap position, moving her so her legs are around my waist and her arms are wrapped around my shoulders. I kiss her, the sea lapping at our skin and the sun warming us, tasting seasalt and the unique sweetness of Faith. She moans, tightening her hold on me, my cock immediately hardening between us.

“I can’t wait to see where life takes us, baby,” I murmur, staring down at her in admiration. “Can’t wait to see more of your successes, and start a family with you, see you become a mom.”

Faith smirks up at me, utter mischief in bright eyes. It’s one of my favorite expressions on her, second only to when pleasure takes her over. “Oh, you want to get me pregnant, do you?”

The way my cock presses harder against her answers for me, and she giggles as she reaches behind her, pulling on the straps of her bikini top until it falls away. I barely manage to snatch the wet fabric from the sea before it floats away, too enraptured by my wife. In the second I grab the bikini top, Faith slips out of my arms and, seconds later, hands me her bikini bottoms, too. For a minute, I’m in too much shock to say anything, giving her the chance she needs to start speeding away from me.

I turn, following her immediately as she takes off up the beach, completely naked.

“If you meant what you said,” she calls out, hair wild and her smile wide, “come catch me and put a baby in me, then!”

That snaps me out of my stupor, and I charge after her, the idea of getting her pregnant driving me absolutely wild. Faith squeals and runs across the sand as I catch up to her, throwing her bikini down so that I can grab her instead.

“Hold on tight, baby,” I growl as I reach her, spinning so I hit the ground first, and she lands on top of me, breathless and wet. “Let’s get you pregnant.”

I spend the rest of the day doing just that.

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