Page 93 of Two a Day

“You’ve been a very naughty boy, Patrick.”

I pause in adjusting my tie in the en suite mirror and smile. That voice coming from the bedroom can only mean one of two things.

Either Cara has found the gift I left out for her or she’s about to make all my dirty student/teacher fantasies come true.

I stroll into the bedroom, and I shouldn’t stare, shouldn’t still be affected by her like this, but fuck it.

I just am.

She stands by the bed in simple black lace lingerie, her gorgeous body bared for me to see. It doesn’t matter how many times I explore it with my hands, my lips, my tongue…I always want more.

Like now.

Like right motherfucking now.

I step closer and slide my hands around her waist, her smooth skin so soft, then I lean down and kiss that rosebud mouth. She sighs into the kiss, melts into my body, and I pull her closer, closer still until there’s no space between us, no gap that separates me from her—there’s justus.

Her tongue darts into my mouth. I meet it stroke for stroke, turning this kiss from a simpleoh hi thereinto a hot and heady dream. We kiss like two people hungry for more, hungry for each other.

The softness of her hair is like a dream as I curl it around my hand, tug it slightly, and then—

Oh, shit.

I stop, pull away.

“What’s wrong?” Cara asks, two adorable little lines furrowing between her brows.

“Did I ruin your wedding hair?” I ask, checking over her shoulder to see if I’ve undone all the hairstylist’s good work. “Nope. Still looks amazing. Close one.” I wipe a bead of imaginary sweat from my brow, but I take a step back.

It’s one thing to play a prank on your best bud every now and then.

It’s another entirely to fuck with his wedding day, and I won’t delay Brooke’s walk down the aisle because I’ve ruined her maid of honor’s hairstyle.

“Thank you for protecting me,” Cara says, grinning as she takes the silky blue dress from the bed and slips it on. It effortlessly curves around her body, cinching in at the waist and draping in all the right places, and I let loose a low whistle.

“Wow,” I mutter. “You’re such a knockout.”

“Wait till you see me in a wedding dress,” Cara teases, flashing me the diamond that sparkles on her ring finger, and I grin.

“About that…” I gesture to the gift-wrapped box on the bedside table. “I believe you were about to reprimand me for misbehaving?”

She grins. “I was. You didn’t have to get me a gift.”

“That’s the beauty of gifts.” I shrug. “They’re not ahave to. They’re awant to.”

She lifts the lid on the blue box and lets loose a small gasp. “Patrick,” she breathes, then lifts the necklace so it dangles in the light. It’s a slight silver chain with a small charm on it—the symbol for infinity.

“I know it’s a little corny, but…” I shrug, take the necklace from her hands, and do the clasp up at her nape. “You’re my forever, Cara. And I wanted to remind you of that.”

“Thank you,” she says, spinning in my arms to kiss me once again, this time a little softer, a littlemore chaste, but no less loaded with meaning. “I can’t wait to marry you and be your wife.”

“Thirty days can’t come fast enough,” I agree, holding her close.

And as we finish getting ready to watch two of the most important people in our lives getting married, I’ve never felt happier.

I might be afraid of clowns.

I might be hesitant to take major risks.

But there’s one thing I’m one hundred percent confident in, and it’s the woman holding hands with me in our hotel suite.

Cara is, and always will be, worth every risk.

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