I feel Lexi shudder next to me. She might be a tad bit embarrassed, but I imagine she’s turned on, too.
“How much for the vibrator?” One lady at the back calls out.
I look at my bride, raising my brow. “Thirty. That one is thirty dollars,” she announces with authority.
That’s my girl.
Hands shoot up. Dollar bills are thrust toward us. One young guy who hung near the back of the store earlier comes forward and discreetly slips me some cash for one of the glow-in-the-dark cock rings. I hand him the sex toy without any questions asked.
This is a judgment-free zone.
By the time the crowd thins out, I calculate that we’ve sold twelve vibrators and eight dildos. Definitely good results for fifteen minutes of work.
I apologize to the owner, not meaning to take any of her business, but she waves her hand dismissively. “No, I should be thanking you. I've been considering installing a sex toy vending machine in here—y'know, those are huge in Japan—but I wasn't sure that Crescent Harbor was the right market. Well, you just did my market research for me, dear. These babies will fly off the shelves.” She grins.
Lexi speaks up, with a smile. “Make us a deal, and you can snatch up the bulk of our inventory today.”
The woman takes most of our stock aside from the cracked butt-plugs and some other things that must have gotten damaged during shipping. But Lexi is undoubtedly in a better position than when we walked in.
When we leave the lingerie shop, the grin on my wife’s face tells me she’s satisfied with the outcome of our little business trip.
Either that, or she saw me slip one of the dildos from the box into my pocket.
I have a strong suspicion that my wife will be interested in trying this one out.
We stroll out, hand in hand, now that I no longer have to lug that box around. Her eyes are full of awe and mischief when she glances up from my side. I know those eyes. Those are her horny eyes, and I one hundred percent approve. And more than that, I'm relieve to find that all traces of resentment from earlier are gone. Maybe I still have a shot with her…
We’re in no hurry, taking the long way around Main Street on our way back to the bridal boutique. We pass under the scaffolding the Hartley Construction workers are setting up in front of the coffee shop. We'll be seeing a lot more of them in the coming months since I awarded them the renovation contract for all of Kingston Realties's crumbling properties.
Charlie and Leo grin when they see Lexi's fingers intertwined with mine. I give them a grateful chin tip that my wife doesn't notice.
Her phone belts out a now-familiar chime. An alert of a new customer booking an appointment for a bridal gown consultation. A smile pulls across her face and she squeezes my hand. "Thank you for the app."
Looking at that smile, I feel a little bit like a superhero. I shrug a shoulder and try to play it off. "I'm a glorified software developer. That's how I made my fortune. The least I could do was build an app to help my wife."
One of those nights when she was refusing to take my calls, I couldn’t get her off my brain. Out of boredom and frustration, I started poking around on my computer and a few hours later, I managed to develop a basic piece of software to help promote the bridal boutique.
Alexia's eyes narrow on me. "You built the app?"
"Yes. That surprises you?"
She shakes her head thoughtfully. "I just assumed that you'd tossed around some money and pawned off the task on someone else."
"Wow, you really don't have a high estimate of me." Yet another repercussion of me being an asshole to her one time too many. I'm going to have to fix that.
We both know I don't deserve a parade. The damage caused by the almost-eviction was my fault. Cleaning up my mess was the right thing to do. Simple as that.
She sets a hand on my bicep and we stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk. "Don't get me wrong—I am grateful for the renovations you did at the boutique. I would have had to save up forever to accomplish that on my own...But you hurt me, King. You can't do that again. You can't just throw a pipe-bomb into someone's life and then expect a pat on the back for rebuilding the world you blew up." She flinches subtly. "Do you know how it felt when I showed up at work and I saw those men tearing my shop apart? I was sick, Cannon. Sick to my stomach. Helpless. Powerless.” She holds her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "You made me feel this big."
The look on her face. I hate that I'm the one who caused her that pain.
I grapple for what to say. All I come up with is another apology. I cup her jaw. "Let me show you that I'm sorry, Alexia. Let me make it up to you."
She searches my eyes. I hope to god I look as genuine as I feel. She folds her arms across her middle, a defensive posture. Finally, she whispers. "Fine...I'll give you another chance. Just don't hurt me again."
A flood of relief sweeps in and loosens the tightness in my chest. "I won't hurt you. I promise." I peel a thick clump of hair from her face and rest my lips against her forehead, sealing our pact with a tender kiss.
She doesn't pull away. Instead, she leans into my embrace, softening in my hold. I want to lift her chin and press my mouth to hers. I want to pour my apology into a passionate kiss, but we're drawing a bit of an audience. I think she senses it, too. She's smiling as she eases away and links our fingers together.
We continue our stroll down Promenade Street and I try to convince myself that the hand-holding is just a show for our spectators. But I know fully well, that's a damn lie. I have the most beautiful woman walking beside me and I feel like the luckiest bastard. I can't not be touching her right now.
Stormy and I pass an obscure shop, and I can’t even tell what the business does. “They’d make a lot more money if they updated their branding," I state off-handedly. "I’m sure the locals know what they do, but if they want to grab the attention of visitors, their marketing needs to be clearer.”
She cocks her head at the weird sign. “Huh. I guess you’re right.” She pulls a paper napkin out of her jeans then steals a pen from my shirt pocket. She jots something down as we continue to walk along the sidewalk.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking notes. I want to tell Hector your advice. He mentioned to me a couple weeks ago that he was struggling.”
Shit. She’s always thinking about how she can help someone else. I admire that about her. It makes me want to do more for the people in my own life, to make sure they know I give a damn about them.
We stroll a bit further.
“If the ice cream shop adds a juice bar, they’d maintain margins through the winter months.” I point at another storefront as we continue to walk. “Those guys would triple their profits at the hardware store if they started carrying farm equipment. Walker always has to order his equipment from out of state since he can’t source them locally.”
We pass a dozen businesses, walking down each side of the street. Lexi continues to make notes and I ramble on with business advice that comes to mind for each organization.
For me, this is fun. Just a mental exercise for the day. But I can’t understand why it feels so good to impress Alexia. I’m crazy about the way she's looking at me right now.
We pass the sandwich shop, which I see is still closed.
“When will Iris be ready to reopen? I have some ideas on helping her improve her perishable inventory, to optimize her COGS.” I'll admit to having an ulterior motive for wanting to help my wife's bestie. Iris doesn't like me and I suspect that winning over Alexia would be a heck of a lot easier if she did.
Lexi gazes at the empty shop. “Iris isn't interested in re-opening her place. She told me she wants to move on to something new.”
“Sometimes it’s good to move onto something new,” I answer.
She meets my stare then. “Yeah, you might be right.”
“I think you mean, I’m always right.” I bump my elbow into her ribs. She shoves her scrap of paper back into her pocket, and I move like I
’m going to take the pen from her. Instead, I intertwine my fingers with hers again.
“Thanks for sharing your godly wisdom," she quips. "I’m excited to go back and give everyone your ideas. You should consider a side gig in consulting, you know.”
Right now, I’m more than content with what I have right here. Walking through town with Alexia at my side? Feeling her warmth press into my palm? Having this feisty woman look at me like I’m a frigging superhero?
Sign me the fuck up.
The only thing lingering on my list for the day is taking this woman home and putting this dildo to good use.
39
Cannon
Renewed Gowns is closed on Saturday morning for some final renovations. We leave it in the competent hands of the Hartley Constructions team and I keep my beautiful wife at home.
We lie around in bed, in no real rush to face the outside world. I, for one, am perfectly content to spend the day inside the blanket fort we've built in our bed.
Her stomach roars and she attempts to untangle herself from the sheets. I pull her back and volunteer to make us breakfast in bed just to keep her locked up in my room a little longer. My kitchen skills are shit so we end up eating burnt toast with butter and bitter coffee. I accompany the 'meal' with a tub of strawberry yogurt that's dangerously close to its expiration date.
Alexia shamelessly mocks my lack of cooking skills. I feign hurt feelings and get an apology in the form of the best blow job of my life. Stormy's a swallower and that's a win-win proposition. I let her ride my face to a screaming orgasm in return.
I find a box of playing cards in my bedside drawer. She teaches me some game I've never heard of and I swear she's just making up the rules as we go. But I don't care because—man—I'm happy. Happier than I've ever been.
I've travelled the world, mingled with dignitaries, I even went onboard a spacecraft once. Yet somehow, all those events pale in comparison to a quiet morning at home, playing and bantering with this wild, perfect creature.
This is crazy. After the way things ended with Margot, I should have trust issues, I should fear commitment, I should be repelled by the idea of a relationship. Yet here I am, diving headfirst with Alexia.
A voice in my head tells me I need to back the heck up but caring about this woman feels easy. Natural. Inevitable.
She grins at me and braves a sip of the now-cold coffee. That smile melts into a cringe as the brew goes down. Her eyes water. "Wow, that was pretty disgusting." She rests the mug on the bedside table and a river of brown liquid slides down the side of the cup to pool at the base.
I don't give a fuck. She's sloppy and she's messy and she's mine.
Sometime in the mid-afternoon, I drag myself into the bathroom for hygiene stuff. I lean close to the mirror with my toothbrush in hand and I can hardly recognize the grinning fool staring back at me.
This is not the man I was when I drove into Crescent Harbor with nothing but revenge on my mind. Alexia Robson has changed me. She has softened me. And I can't bring myself to apologize.
Moments later, she stumbles in wearing only her tiny panties, looking like she got fucked hard all night. She did. And I still want more of her.
I can't help it, I grab her by the waist and lift her onto the counter. "You're fucking beautiful. You know that?"
She touches my face. "You're beautiful, Kingston.” Her eyes twinkle with reverence.
I yank her head back to kiss her mouth then I pull off her panties. Her morning breath could wipe out mass civilizations but still, I just want to kiss up on her. I can't stop.
Her moans surge and fade in the quiet room as I taste her gorgeous, little breasts and finger her to the peak one more time. My arms circle her back to hold her as she recovers.
Minutes later, she slides off the counter, grinning, and tries to bump me out of the way with her narrow hip. She fails. I roll my eyes and move aside to let her grab her toothbrush.
As she's brushing her teeth, a text message comes in on my phone on the counter. Absently, I swipe to unlock the screen. I glance down and...
Holy clitoris!
"Da fuck is wrong with that woman?!" I mutter to myself, staring at the picture in disbelief.
Lexi sets down her toothbrush and pops up over my shoulder. "What's that?" She stares at the phone with a cocked brow, tone heavy with curiosity.
"Nudes from my ex," I groan. "Again." A quick glance in the mirror confirms that my expression is just as traumatized as I feel.
"Can I see?" Not a hint of jealousy in her cool, unaffected tone.
"Knock yourself out."
My wife eagerly snatches the phone from my hand and leans against the marble counter next to me. Not an inch of fabric covering her perfect skin, not a self-conscious bone in that tempting body. I run a brush through my hair and tie it into a quick knot at the base of my neck.
"Oh, I almost bought a clit ring just like that!"
I snort— actually snort with laughter—as I pick up my razor from the counter. This woman is something else.
She expands the picture with her fingers. "And gorgeous tits, by the way." I hear nothing but amusement in her voice. She swigs some mouthwash.
“They’d better be gorgeous. I spent a fortune on them.”
She looks up at me with wide eyes and roughly coughs out a laugh. I have to thump her a few times on the upper back because, choking to death on some Listerine? I don’t want my wife to go out like that.
Once she recovers, I press kisses all over her smirking face. "You're amazing."
The look in her eyes is pure and genuine. "I'm really sorry that bitch hurt you..." Alexia is loyal to the bone and that only makes me want her more.
And the funny thing? I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry that Margot turned out to be a shitty human being and that she thought fucking my clueless best friend was the way to get ahead. Because if she hadn't made that colossal mistake, I wouldn't be standing in my bathroom in quiet Crescent Harbor with my hands all over the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
Nah, Margot did me a favor.
Lexi goes over and sits on the edge of the bathtub. "I'm in the mood for a bath. Join me?"
I'm 6'2 and thirty years old. I have no right trying to squeeze myself into a bathtub, dammit. But I can't deny my wife anything.
Minutes later, we're together in the tub with warm bubbles up to our chins. Touching and murmuring sweet nothings in between long, lazy kisses. Like we have nothing to do and nowhere to go.
I pull back and look into those crystalline eyes. I want to know every little thing about her. "What's your backstory, Stormy? Tell me about your family."
As soon as I say it, she pivots around and sinks into my hold. She pulls my biceps around her, back slick against my chest. She shrinks like a child seeking out refuge, protection.
I'll do whatever it takes to get her to relax, to see that she's safe in my arms. I grab her grapefruit shampoo from the corner of the tub. I squirt some into my hand and she giggles. "What are you doing?"
"Washing your hair." I kiss the side of her neck.
"Uh, I usually leave that to the professionals." Her tone is skeptical.
"Don't worry about it."
She writhes as I draw my sudsy fingers through her thick, tangled hair. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."
I circle my fingertips into her scalp, massaging deeply. She moans. "I've got it under control."
Still trying to keep the conversation off of her past, she continues to stall. "Are we gonna address your hair fetish at some point or are we just gonna keep sweeping it under the rug?"
"What are you talking about?" I feign ignorance then lean in and jokingly make a big show of sniffing her hair. She squirms as I continue to touch her. "Sit still."
I don't have a hair fetish. I have an Alexia fetish. I don't think there's a twelve-step program for that.
"Your family, Stormy."
I'm being persistent as hell but I've been curious. I've tried t
o bring it up on a thousand different occasions. She's changed the subject every time. I’m not letting her get away with it today.
She shrinks some more. "I grew up in Cowersville."
"Cowersville? Never heard of it."
She laughs morosely. "Lucky you. It's a little town somewhere between Reyfield and Copper Heights, tucked into a corner where no one is supposed to find it." She absently scoops a handful of bubbles and lets the suds slip between her fingers.
Sensing how uncomfortable this conversation is making her, I continue rubbing her scalp.
"When I was small, Dad owned this furniture and appliance store he ran downtown. It wasn't huge but I guess he did okay for himself. Provided for a family of four. Every Friday after work, his first purchase would be a case of beer and a pile of lottery tickets and after the news, me and Jessa would sandwich him on the old living room couch while he watched the winning numbers pop up on the TV screen. Every week, he'd lose. Jessa would start to cry and he'd promise to win the next week..." A rueful tone laces her voice.
She chews on the nail of her thumb as she continues to bare her soul.
"And then, one Friday night, he did. Every single one of his numbers came. We won two and a half million dollars."
"Wow..." I mutter.
She drops her head and shakes it. "The first thing Mom wanted was a house. A big one. In the most expensive area of Chicago. Nice cars. A cabin. Then, Jessa and I were in private school. Forget keeping up with the Jones's. We were burning through money fast to keep up with the Coventry's and the Kenworth's. But in the eyes of those old money aristocrats, me and my sister never quite measured up at school. The way they looked at us...made me wish I were invisible." Lexi continues to bare her soul. "But Mom kept trying and trying and spending more money to try and keep up." She wipes her cheeks and I imagine the tears streaking down her face. "Eventually we were broke. We were worse off than before we won the lotto..."
"Fuck, Alexia..." I spin her around to look at her face.
"I guess I never forgave my parents for that." She drops her stare. "I mean, winning the lotto was our shot, y'know. We could have built something good, solid. If Dad had invested in the business, opened another location, ordered more product. Instead, he wasted every dime. We had to move into a trailer park. We didn't even have anything in the fridge to eat some nights. It was my friends in the neighborhood who stepped in to fill our bellies. My parents never bothered to make a backup plan. Dad didn’t even try to recover from that failure. His drinking spiralled out of control. He just gave up on life."
Mister Billions: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Fake Marriage Billionaire Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 1) Page 18
