Page 148 of Ward Willing
“I love you,” Liam rasps, and I pull away to see that he’s crying, too. “Always and forever, baby girl.”
Giving him a watery smile, I bring my hand to his wet face. “I love you too. Always and forever.”
He tugs me into his body as we wait out the rest of the storm—not caring that we’re soaking wet. Not caring that the thunder is loud and scary. Not letting it bother us.
Because when I’m in his arms like this? Nothing else matters, and I know I’m safe.
I know I’m home.
EPILOGUE
THE BILLBOARD
Liam
Three Years Later
I sip my beer as I watch her from across the cocktail bar, cock already growing hard from the outfit she chose to tease me with tonight. It’s a simple, form-fitting black dress with a large slit and thin straps. It hugs every single one of her curves in a way that makes me want to gouge out the eyeballs of any man who deigns to lay his eyes on my wife. Even from this far away, I can tell she’s not wearing a bra–and knowing how naughty she loves to be, she’s probably not wearing underwear, either.
My fucking brat.
She laughs at something the bartender says, and it’s then that I know she knows I’m watching her. Tucking her short hair behind her ears, she leans in close on her elbows, one eyebrow arched as the bartender laughs at her response. My nostrils flare, but I don’t react.
Being jealous of my wife flirting with another man is not the role we agreed upon tonight, so I take another large sip of beer to distract myself. However, my eyes don’t leave her—not when she stirs her dirty martini, and certainly not when she opens her mouth and delicately places an olive between her red lips.
I smile as I look down at my empty beer.
Such a fucking tease.
Checking my watch, I can see that it’s ten after eight. I promised to give her fifteen minutes to compose herself, but the thought of waiting another five minutes before I can be near her is excruciating. Pushing back from the other side of the bar, I slowly walk to where she’s sitting, legs crossed, one heel of her patent leather Louboutin’s tapping against the steel rod of the bar.
She catches my eye, feigning surprise as her face lights up.
“Professor Ravage? Fancy seeing you here tonight,” she says, her voice a sultry purr.
I cock my head and lean against the bar, propping myself up on one elbow. “Surely you’re too young to be drinking.”
She laughs, and I can’t help but smile. Even when we’re pretending, her laugh is infectious.
“I’ll have you know that I’m twenty-three now.”
I hum as I let my eyes rake over her unabashedly. “Yes, you do seem to have grown up, Ms. Arma.”
Her cheeks flush at the use of her maiden name, and as her darkened eyes rove up to meet mine, she gives me a shy smile.
“Do you live in New York?” she asks, eyes flitting around the bar quickly.
I nod. “I do. I got a tenured position at NYU teaching creative writing at Tisch. You?”
“I’m actually a published author of six books.”
I smirk as I get the bartender’s attention. “That’s incredible. We should celebrate. Let me buy you a drink.”
Zoe grins. “I’d love that.”
The bartender walks over to us, and I lean over the bar to place my order.
“Sparkling water for both of us, and an extra dirty martini for my former student,” I tell him.
