by Piper Lawson
Some days I can’t believe she’s here—in front of me, beside me, under me. She is every bit the queen I never knew I wanted.
No, needed.
I shrug out of my jacket and toss it on the hall table without looking.
“When were you going to tell me you decided you wanted to stay?” I ask.
We’d talked about it as a possibility, but I didn’t want to pressure her. While we’re becoming more comfortable together with our routines as a couple, her career means being available to play to crowds all over the world.
It’s part of the job, and part of the thrill.
“Just recently. Everything I want is here.”
This is good news. I drag her against me. “Dinner at Picasso?” I think of the restaurant at the Bellagio.
“And shopping,” she deadpans breathily against my lips.
“But mostly...”
“...Barney,” she says.
The dog perks up once again.
For that, I toss her over my shoulder. “You’re in trouble.”
“Put me down! Being British doesn’t make this any less caveman.”
“No, but it means I can stare down my nose at you imperiously when I decide to drop you.”
I flick the lights by the door with my free hand, and the soft glow from behind the dark wood headboard brings our bedroom into focus.
I toss Raegan on the bed, taking a moment to appreciate the view from here.
Her costume is sexy, a joke and a provocation at once, like only the woman I love can pull off. Her curves are decadent, but it’s the confidence beneath, the ownership of who she is, that’s most attractive.
“This outfit is ridiculous,” I rasp.
Rae angles her chin up, offering me full lips and knowing eyes in the semidarkness. “And here I figured you’d like it. Seeing as how you’re the clothes whore.”
I’m already hard in my pants.
I take my time stripping her out of her obscenely sexy costume and tossing it on the floor.
The lingerie beneath is lace, matching the color of her skin. As I shift over her, I imagine it darkening when it’s wet from my tongue, her slickness.
Her fingers thread through mine, and I drag her hands over her head, pinning them against the headboard.
“Save your breath, love,” I murmur. “The only thing you’ll be calling me in a moment is a god.”
She grins, and I go to work making it so.
I touch every curve, following my hands with my mouth, until she’s moaning and incoherent. Then she helps strip my shirt and trousers off, and when I turn her over and yank up her hips to slip inside her bare, my gaze locks on the floor-to-ceiling mirror across from the bed. Watching her take me, arching her back while I grip her ass and sink deeper with every stroke, is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Oh shit,” she groans.
“You like how fucking deep I am, love?”
“Yes, more.”
“More,” I agree, thrusting in until my balls slap up against her, and she’s grabbing fistfuls of sheets while I indulge in one of my favorite fantasies and fuck her from behind.
Every day, her fans worship her.
Every night, I do.
When I let my hand drift up between her legs to circle her clit, she explodes, clenching on my cock so hard I come with a jolt. I grind against her, turning her chin to catch her moan of completion in a deep kiss as I follow her over.
The second time I take her, she’s on top and we’re face-to-face. Her nails rake my back, and I’m lost.
Turns out having someone brand you is fucking perfect, if it’s the right someone.
I want this forever. Me, planning the next stage of my business—one that’s no longer tethered to the past, but free to expand in the future. Her, triumphing in the club or working on a track. After, both of us coming together like this.
“I love you,” I say after, pulling her toward me.
She traces the outline of my face, my jaw. “I love you too.”
We lie across the satiny sheets, the glow from the headboard the only light in the bedroom. Behind the blackout curtains, the city throbs with its own nighttime energy.
“But...?” I prompt.
She’s wearing that look, the one that says she’s thinking hard about something.
“Tonight, you started to call me your girlfriend but didn’t.”
I can’t stop the chuckle. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Not worried. Curious.”
I stare her down until she starts to shift away, but I drag her back and tilt her chin up to me.
“I like you curious,” I murmur against her neck.
“Go to sleep,” she retorts, but she’s smiling.
“And leave you awake to spin in that beautiful head of yours? Never.”
One thing that hasn’t changed is that it takes her awhile to wind down after a gig.
I brush my fingers through her hair.
“Not spinning. Thinking about your birthday next weekend,” she says. “I have plans.”
“You can’t because I have plans.”
“That’s not how birthdays work.” But her protest is softer, her breaths longer and slower.
I stroke down her arm and thread my fingers through hers, rubbing my thumb across each of her bare knuckles and memorizing the feel.
“It is now. I’ve been working on something too,” I murmur.
But she’s already asleep.
I smile.
Epilogue Two
RAE
“You’re joking,” I blurt.
“I’m quite serious.”
My hair blows around my face, and I brush it away to look around the deck of the yacht. “You wanted a boat for your birthday? Why the hell?”
Harrison follows my gaze, the wind tugging at his half-unbuttoned shirt. “Fond memories,” is all he says, his mouth twitching in a cryptic smile as he takes my hand.
“You guys going to come and get drinks or what?” Beck calls.
Because, yeah, our friends came too. With Tyler and Annie, a one-year-old Rose, Elle and Beck, it feels more like my birthday than Harrison’s.
When Ash showed up, I knew this was a big deal. He flew over from the UK for only a couple of nights, arriving at the port thirty minutes after the rest of us given traffic from LAX.
Interestingly, Beck gave Ash more than his share of shit—probably because Ash did the same to Beck on my birthday when he’d been late. But as soon as they started sparring, it was impossible to stop them.
Something’s up. I only found out we were going on an overnight trip when Harrison told me to pack a bag and then drove us to the port at Long Beach this morning.
I don’t have a chance to press him as we set out to Catalina for the day, exploring the island together on bikes and on foot.
Harrison doesn’t seem to be feeling any ill effects from the yacht—or maybe he’s okay because we’ve spent more time on land than at sea.
After exploring Avalon and the Catalina Casino, we come back to the anchored yacht for a delicious chef-prepared dinner of swordfish, followed by cake.
“How fucking old do you think I am?” Harrison demands, taking in the dozens of candles interspersed with real flowers on the beautiful white cake.
“Don’t blame me,” Ash retorts, lifting a brow. “They know when you were born.”
Annie, Elle, and I crack up. Even Rose gurgles, half-asleep in Annie’s arms.
“You think this innocent act is gonna work forever?” Beck’s arm leans across the back of Elle’s chair, but his smirk is focused on Harrison’s brother.
Ash leans over the table. “Not an act, Hollywood. What you see is what you get.”
“The baker didn’t want us to put candles on it, but we insisted,” Tyler says, bringing the attention back to the cake.
Harrison shakes his head at me. But he’s grinning.
I shift my chair closer to his.
“Wait. You hav
e to make a wish, remember?” I prompt before he can blow out the candles. “And it’ll only come true if you get them all in one breath.”
He cocks his head. “You never told me what yours was.”
I feel the flush crawling up my cheeks. “Maybe someday I will.”
“In that case, I’ll tell you mine when you tell me yours.”
He blows, and every tiny flame extinguishes.
I wake up to a gentle rocking motion.
It takes a moment to recognize the stateroom in the dark.
The bed next to me is empty, and I frown. It can’t be that long since we came down here.
After long looks over cake and drinks, we didn’t even make it to the bed before Harrison lifted me up against the door and pressed inside me, his scent making my head spin while his hot breath fanned my throat.
But when we lay down together, me soaking in the perfection of this day, he seemed like the one locked in his head.
Now, sliding out from between the sheets, I tug on a shirt and shorts and head above deck, trying to be quiet so as not to wake Annie and Tyler or Rose or Elle or Beck.
At the top, the moonlight kisses the boat. The lights of Catalina are glittering jewels on the horizon.
Harrison leans over the railing, shirtless and in drawstring pants.
I take a moment to admire the view—of our surroundings, but equally, of him.
“Thinking of jumping off?” I tease, wrapping my arms around me against the breeze as I cross the deck to him.
He turns at the sound of my voice, chuckling. “Not seasick, love.”
“Right.” I lean over the railing next to him, staring down at the waves lapping against the yacht. “Men like you charter yachts to fuck on them,” I tease. Hard to believe it was more than a year and a half ago we had that conversation.
“It’s not the only reason.”
I sigh out a breath, relaxing into the evening.
He shifts off the railing, and it’s only moments before I miss his company.
“Where did you…”
When I turn back, my words dry up.
Harrison’s not standing behind me.
He’s on one knee.
My heart stops. “Um. What are you doing?”
I grip the hem of my shirt, twisting it nervously in my fist.
I want to look around to see if this is some joke, but can’t tear my eyes from him.
“Making my birthday wish come true,” he replies.
He pulls out a small box and lifts the lid.
The blue-diamond teardrop, surrounded with white diamonds, sparkles back at me.
“I lived by my own rules until I met you. You were impossible and stubborn and…“
My eyebrows rise further.
“And I never want to live a day without you by my side.” The breeze ruffles his hair, his throat bobbing with emotion. “You’re already my queen, Reagan. Be my wife.”
Holy shit.
I never thought of myself as the kind of girl to be swept off her feet, but there’s no deck. No earth. Nothing stable to hold on to, except the commitment in his eyes.
I reach for the ring, lifting it out of the case and turning it in my fingers. The blue diamond is the size of my fingertip. He knew it was huge when he bought it. He probably doesn’t know it’s the same color as his eyes when he’s inside me.
The band is wide enough for an inscription on the inside.
Through everything.
My throat tightens.
“Not because I merely want to survive what life throws at us,” he murmurs, noticing me reading. “Because every day with you is an experience I will never take for granted.”
I press my lips together.
“I want you with me always,” he finishes.
I never thought much about a ceremony, but the idea of marrying him feels so damn right.
He’s still larger than life, but maybe I am too. And it’s the quiet moments with him I love the most—the teasing, the appreciating where we’ve come from, what we’ve been through together. When he tugs me against him at night.
“Well?” he prompts, looking agitated.
I take a breath. “Yes.”
His grin flashes in the dark before he rises, towering over me again in a heartbeat. I’m already overwhelmed before he slips the ring on my finger, the cool metal feeling strange against my skin.
He pulls my lips up to his and kisses me with so much devotion and love and happiness that I’m speechless when he pulls back.
A noise has me looking up.
“Did it work?” Annie’s head sticks up from the stairs that go belowdecks.
My jaw drops. “You were in on this?”
She tries to look innocent and fails.
“The best birthday gift,” Harrison calls, loud enough for her to hear.
“You didn’t like the bookcase?” I protest lightly, and he winks at me.
“It was stunning”—I had the custom furniture made to display his books in our place at the Wynn—“but this is even more beautiful and rare. And while that was something I didn’t know I needed, you are quite simply someone I cannot live without.”
Damn.
Suddenly our friends pour out of the stairway, surrounding us with love and congratulations. Elle carries a tray of bubbling champagne flutes while Ash claps his brother on the back and messes up my hair with a grin.
My heart is so full I can barely breathe.
“How are you guys going to do this?” Beck demands.
“Huge wedding,” Harrison murmurs, wrapping an arm around me.
“Hell no,” I retort, even as I rub my thumb over the inside of my ring to get used to the feel of it.
“We’ll sell rights to People magazine,” Beck promises.
“I’ll sell your balls to them first.” My eyes narrow. “If this is all some trick to get me to agree to honor and obey you—“
“I don’t need that.”
“Because I love you?”
He strokes a thumb along my jaw, reverent and possessive.
“That. And I still have a favor.”
Thank you for reading BEAUTIFUL RUIN!
I hope you loved Harrison and Rae’s story. Their honesty, rawness, and vulnerability got to me in a big way.
If you want more adventures in this world…they’re coming! Sign up for my newsletter to get the latest details:
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But first!
What happens when a man with everything loses it overnight?
Sawyer Redmond, who made a cameo in this book as Harrison’s friend, is the hero in a new series coming this fall. It’s hot, forbidden deliciousness. Order now to devour it release day!
ONE CLICK CRAVE NOW >
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Turn the page to read an exclusive preview of my hot new forbidden college romance CRAVE…
Chapter 1
Olivia
Gravel scrapes the soles of my Louboutins as I trip across the parking lot in the dark.
“The shoes are fucking hot,” Kat says.
“They’re not rated for off-roading,” I reply.
She laughs and I send up a silent prayer for forgiveness as I dodge the empty beer cans.
Bad decisions have a slippery way of compounding. It’s like when you drink one too many coffees in the morning, and next thing, you’re headlining a cabaret with jazz hands.
The sign on the single-floor building in the middle of nowhere says “Velvet” in pink neon. The glow lingers in the corner of my vision when my friends line up at the bouncer, whose eyes have been on us since I was halfway across the lot.
He glances at Kat’s ID, then Jules’, but frowns at mine. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.” The license is fake, but before I can protest, he goes on. “You’re drunk.�
�
His gaze drops to my boobs, and the compassion I had for the guy doing his job melts away.
“I haven’t had anything harder than soda tonight. You try walking across gravel in these.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.”
We’re here for Kat, and as much as this isn’t a place I’d choose to spend my night, it’s not about me. It’s about friendship.
“I’m better behaved than anyone in there,” I insist. “Designated driver. Not my fault these shoes were designed with smooth surfaces in mind.”
He stares at me like I’m nuts and I huff out a breath. “Fine. Would a drunk person be able to do this?”
I grab my shoe and bend my knee, pulling my foot up to the apex of my thighs. Then I take a breath before lifting it higher, straightening my leg so it’s extended alongside my upper body.
His eyes round. I’m sure he’s snuck a peek or two at the strippers who work the stage, but I’ve got moves he’s never seen.
Releasing my leg, I grab my ID out of his hands and follow my friends.
“That was badass. I can’t believe you did this for me!” Kat shouts over the music as we head inside.
“Tonight’s about celebrating your birthday and living life like a normal”—a glance back at the bouncer—“twenty-one-year-old.”
I reach into my bag to pull out the Queen B tiara, and my roommate’s eyes light up.
Kat’s been bugging us for the past year to visit a part of town that’s the opposite of the one starring in the glossy university recruitment brochures.
My corporate father and socialite mother would lose their shit if they saw me in a place like this.
Kat tugs us toward the bar since the booths around the perimeter are full. We wedge in, Jules calling for vodka sodas for her and Kat, and a Diet Coke for me.
On stage is a woman who looks too beautiful for this place. She winds around the pole, shifting toward the edge of the stage to drop her hips into a seductive slide.
