Love After Marriage (Forever After #2)
Page 1
Love After Marriage
Mia Kayla
MAM Books LLC
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Newsletter
Also by Mia Kayla
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Copyright
Love After Marriage
Copyright © 2016 by Mia Kayla All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Designer: Sommer Stein at Perfect Pair Creative
Copy Editor: Meghan Hand
Proofreading: Jillian Crouson-Toth
Editoral: Kristi Yanta
Dedication
To Michelle, Sarah, Emily, Danielle, Amy, and Alyssa—my readers, my friends. Thanks for loving these characters and your constant encouraging words to keep me going.
Chapter 1
Beth:
A long sigh escaped me as the elevator pinged open at my condo floor. I rubbed my eyes like a small child, tired from a stressful day at work. All I needed was a warm bath and to put my feet up. It’d been a crazy day at Plack Industries, and I was so over walking in these killer Prada heels. Why couldn't we wear Converse at work? Some woman needed to start a trend so the rest of corporate America could follow.
My mind wandered as I keyed into our condo. I couldn’t believe Kent and I had been married almost two years already. I read once that only seventy, maybe seventy-five, percent of marriages ended in a happily ever after.
I had high hopes for us, though maybe not for Kent’s cleanliness.
In typical weekday fashion, a snake had shed its skin from the door through the kitchen and into our bedroom. I followed the trail and picked up his belongings, sighing as I went along. First the khaki fall jacket on the hardwood floor, then the pants on the bar stool. The tie on the stove and finally the button-down shirt next to the bed. This all led me directly to the culprit plopped on our California king. He was leaning against the headboard and watching TV.
"Hey, baby," he said, flipping through the channels, one hand behind his head and the remote control in the other.
His comfortable signature gray drawstring pants and T-shirt had replaced his work attire that I now held in my fingers.
I sighed again. This time for a good reason. What never got old was the view. Kent was beautiful, from his handsome face to his dark locks to his chestnut eyes, and his hard, toned body. And all of it belonged to me. Mine all mine.
For a moment, I forgot I was annoyed until I felt the silk tie between my fingertips.
I huffed. "Kent, would it hurt you to drop these things in the laundry basket after work? Seriously, I say this every day." I didn't want to sound like his mother, but I didn't want to be his mother, either.
He placed the remote by the side table, walked toward me at his normally cool, slow pace, and reached for the clothes in my hands. "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting." When he gave me a peck on the lips, I rolled my eyes at him.
Forgot again?
I wondered if this was common in married life...a constant state of amnesia.
"Did I tell you I love you today?" A dimple emerged as he sauntered to the bathroom and dropped the clothes into the hamper. "I didn't cook dinner since I figured you went out with the suppliers tonight,” he yelled from the bathroom.
"Mmhmm." My tone oozed annoyance.
Stepping into the walk-in closet, I unbuttoned my shirt, dropped it to the floor, and stepped out of my skirt. "If you didn't cook, you could’ve cleaned," I muttered under my breath, then I squealed. "Hey!" I pushed at his hand when he grabbed my waist and pulled me flush against him.
"Woman, you smell amazing. Is that a new perfume?" he whispered, nuzzling my neck. His hands moved to my bare stomach, which caused a tingling to emanate where we were connected and spread throughout my whole body.
"It's my new lotion. Apple scented..."
He reached down and grabbed my stomach, pushing me against his growing erection. "Maybe I need a little bite. Now every time I smell apples or taste apples, I’ll get horny."
"You're a walking, living, breathing horn ball," I sighed into him.
"Only when you're around," he chuckled.
"I'm around all the time. We work together."
He trailed kisses down my neck and, when I tried to escape, his hold tightened. Against my better judgment, I melted into him like chocolate sitting out on a warm day.
"Well then, that's the reason I'm horny all the time." His touch was my number one weakness, and I couldn't fight the magic of his charm. "Are you still mad?"
"I'm not mad," I said, tilting my head to give him better access.
"I don't want you to be even slightly annoyed." He kissed the tender spot below my ear. "It's okay, Maria is coming tomorrow. She'll tidy up for us." He grabbed my waist and turned me to face him, pressing his lips to mine.
"I got rid of Maria," I muffled into his mouth through kisses. Maria was his maid that had been cleaning his house since before we met.
His lips stopped moving, and he slowly pulled back to study my face. He quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean got rid of?"
I stifled a laugh. "Exactly what I said. You need to start picking up after yourself." I moved from his grasp and headed to the dresser, pulling out shorts and a t-shirt. My movements were automatic, routine. "Seriously, we're adults. We need to be responsible for cleaning our own apartment and taking care of our own stuff." I maneuvered around him, noting the bewildered look on his face, and sauntered to the bathroom. He followed behind me.
"Kent, don't you think it is just a tiny bit extreme that we have maid service once a week?" I reached in the drawer by the sink, grabbed a black hair tie, and pulled my hair into a high ponytail.
"No. Not one bit. Before we got married, Maria was coming over to tidy up three times a week." He moved closer, resting his hand on my hip. "Baby, we don't have the time. We’re busy and social people." He pulled me in, resting his head on my shoulder. His lips touched my neck before meeting my eyes through the mirror. "It doesn't mean we can't clean up after ourselves. It's just more convenient. It's not like we can't afford it."
I flipped around to cheer up my spoiled, handsome man. "I know, but I didn't grow up that way. Nana didn't raise me to live like that. It's not how I want to raise our kids." I tiptoed to peck him on the lips, but he froze on contact. I held my breath, startled at his reaction.
The features on his face were strained, but in the next second, he pushed out his lip, giving me a puppy dog face, which was so not like him.
I moved from his grasp. "Don't pout. It's not becoming of you," I sassed, my tone playful.
He reached for my waist and threw me over his shoulder, making me yelp. Stalking to our bed, he slapped my ass hard. "Bad, bad, bad, bad girls. They make you feel so good."
Through my laughter, I pounded on his back. "Let me go, you damn caveman."
There was this devilish glint in his eye. "Becoming of me?" He reached for the edge of my shorts. "You know who'll be coming." When I pulled my shorts up to play coy, he tugged them down and threw them across the room.
I laughed.
"You'll be coming, baby...Hard." A mischievous smile crept up his face.
Kent:
The strong scent of fresh brewed coffee bombarded my senses as I walked into the kitchen the next morning. The coffee was set to brew right after our alarm went off, which was one of my favorite parts of the day. I lifted my arms, stretching. Every bone in my body ached in a good way from our extreme lovemaking. If I had my way, we’d never get anything accomplished. We’d be in bed until the evening and into the next morning.
Starting my morning work routine, I dropped my suit jacket on the bar stool, walked into the kitchen, and set out our breakfast that I'd prepared before I hopped in the shower. Today's delicacy? Eggs Benedict and bacon. My love for cooking could be blamed on my mother. She had raised me to be happy and never hungry. Old pictures of my pudgier self showed my love for food.
I glanced at the clock as I set our breakfast on plates and prepared Beth's coffee. She liked it with three creams and one sugar, something I’d first learned when she moved in.
When she stepped into the kitchen, my eyes took her in and my fist flew to my lips. "Good God," I exclaimed because he was a good God indeed to grace my life with such a beautiful woman.
After I got married, my mother had called my eyes honeymoon eyes, the type of eyes that always wanted my wife. It was like seeing her for the first time every time.
She smiled her breathtakingly beautiful smile. The one that turned boys into men. When I placed our breakfast in front of her, she kissed me in appreciation. "Thanks."
"You're most welcome, Mrs. Plack." I didn't think I would ever get tired of saying those words. That name simply meant she was mine. When I leaned in to kiss her cheek, goose bumps formed against her skin. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy her reaction to my touch.
The scent of her coffee and her sweet shampoo wafted in my nose and every part of me wanted to go back to bed with her, but when I glanced at the clock, I realized we only had five minutes before we had to be out the door.
"I love the suit," I said, my voice husky with a want only she could fulfill. "It's new." My eyes devoured her ensemble. If eyes could eat...I'd already have consumed her. "And sexy."
I glanced down at her grey fitted skirt that highlighted every curve——the curves I’d had my hands on this morning and last night.
She gave me a sly smile. "How do you know it's new?"
"I just know." Didn't she know me by now? My attention to detail when it came to work and food was unprecedented, but my attention to everything that was my wife was a little over the top. I nodded toward her food. "Eat."
Her little hums while she chewed indicated that I had done well on breakfast, so I finally relaxed and sat on the stool next to her, eating my wheat bagel and black coffee. I flipped through the Wall Street Journal on the counter, taking in the news of the day.
One of our competitors was expanding overseas. I'd been watching their trend in sales recently, and it only reminded me of the job I needed to accomplish at our company.
Plack Industries was already worldwide, but my next goal was to take this organization public. I guess you could say, it was the ultimate goal. In due time. The thing I lacked in life was patience, but I was slowly learning from the beautiful brunette beside me.
When I finished, I stood and Beth followed.
She took her mug to the sink and threw me a glowing smile. "I love that you cook for me."
"I love that suit," I said gruffly. "But tonight, I'll be the one taking it off."
"Just like you stripped off my nighty this morning." Her tone held a sensual flame. "Is tonight a promise?" She batted her eyelashes in my direction.
I smirked at her. "Baby, when have I ever gone back on my word?"
"Never." Her smile turned playful, and she pinched my side. "But you won't get a chance to take off this suit until Caroline and Jeff leave tonight."
I made a face. "What?" Shit. I’d forgotten about dinner with her friends.
"Yes, remember we're meeting Chase for the first time and you promised you'd cook dinner." Beth had worked with Caroline at Financial State before she’d transferred jobs to Plack Industries. Caroline had just delivered her baby three weeks ago, and I knew Beth couldn't wait to meet him.
I filled up Beth's travel mug with coffee, automatically and unthinking. There was comfort in routine. I knew firsthand that chaos was overrated. I'd already lived that life and didn't miss it. Before Beth, I had lived the ultimate single life, getting drunk and partying every night with no cares in the world. I had no job and no obligations. Life of a king. So I thought.
Though my glass was full of current responsibilities at home and my duties at Plack Industries as future CEO, my world now was complete. I wouldn’t change a thing about my current life. My former self had lacked substance. I had been walking around in an endless desert with no water——until I’d met Beth. My empty life was now replaced with drive, fulfillment, love.
I snatched up my suit jacket from the stool and picked up my briefcase next to the door. "Why does it have to be tonight?" It wasn't like I didn't enjoy Caroline and Jeff's company, I just enjoyed our alone time more.
"Because we made these plans a long time ago, before they had the baby."
"Aren't couples with babies too busy to do dinner?"
She laughed and quirked an eyebrow, but shit, I was dead serious.
"Uh…people with kids have a life, Kent."
"Yes. Poop and crying. I don't even know what to prepare for their child." My fridge had steaks and chicken. What the hell did I prepare for a newborn?
She shook her head and chuckled. "You're preparing dinner for the adults. He's only a few months old. He'll be drinking formula or breast milk. And no more talking, unless you want me getting upset at the next thing that flies out of your mouth and then I'll be taking off my own suit tonight." She silenced me with a kiss and sauntered toward the door.
I trailed behind her, deciding I'd deal with what to cook for dinner later. And I had every intention of taking off her new suit tonight.
Beth:
The glint of Plack's logo shined above us as we walked through Plack Industries' corporate headquarters on Michigan Avenue. Even my walk had a sunny cheerfulness. This was my life, and I couldn’t be happier. At random times, thoughts would filter through my head about the path that Kent and I had crossed to get here. We were supposed to marry for convenience alone. No strings, no attachment, no love. Marriage had granted him access to his trust fund, and in return, my debts that my deadbeat mother had put me into would be repaid.
Easy peasy. Yeah, right.
I had to fall for the bad boy. But little did I know that marriage would do the bad boy good.
It was only a matter of time before my father-in-law had approached me about working for Plack Industries as their financial controller. I declined at first, mostly because I needed separation from my work and personal life but Dad, as I now call him, would not relent. He had sat me down multiple times and tried to coerce me into taking the job, repeating over and over that it only made sense.
I underwrote Plack Industries at Financial State, and understood the company and their operations. Dad had insisted that, at the end of the day, Plack Industries was our Company and, when he retired, Kent would take over as CEO and he'd like me to take over as CFO.
Kent had pushed me too, but for different reasons. Soon after getting really married, his jealousy meter jumped to an eleven on a scale of ten. He would ask about every single new employee that worked at Financial State. It had been q
uite annoying, even though Caroline, my former co-worker, thought it was the cutest thing.
After months of pushing and persuasion, my new family had won out. I had decided that Plack Industries was our legacy, and I wanted to be a part of bringing the Company to the next level. Before I had taken the job, though, I had a serious discussion with Kent about separating business and pleasure. As of now, he continued to struggle with that aspect of the hands-off-at-work rule.
I shook my head, breaking myself out of my random thoughts. In typical workday fashion, we strolled past security, through two glass double doors, and past the receptionist area. Before we went our separate ways, I tiptoed to kiss my husband and the familiar butterflies tickled my belly. His kiss lingered on my lips, and I breathed him in.
His hands reached for my waist, but I pushed him off playfully. Work and pleasure? Not going there.
He flashed me a dimple as I veered right toward my office and he turned to go up the elevator to his.
For the rest of the day, I busied myself on my computer for a particular reason I didn't want to acknowledge. I glanced at the calendar. It was my mother's birthday, the deadbeat who had abandoned me time and time again. She’d racked up bills under my name that had put me in heaps of debt. Looking back at it now, maybe if things were different, it would have not led me on the path that I lived today. I wouldn't have needed Kent's help. I wouldn’t have agreed to his deal to pay off my debts in order for him to attain his trust fund. And who knows, if I hadn't taken that arrangement, we may never have fallen in love.
A thought of her filtered through my head, one where I was five and had made her a birthday card colored with an array of different shades of pink balloons, because pink had been her favorite color. She had been passed out drunk on the couch, and I placed the card by her head so it would be the first thing she saw when she woke up. My breathing slowed and a pang shot straight to my heart. It happened every time I thought of her. If I didn't push it down, it would cripple me into nonexistence, until I wouldn't be able to get anything done at work. I couldn't afford to slack since we had our quarterly meeting for upper management today.