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I don’t know how I knew or what brought this feeling about, but Iknewit deep in my soul. We might have been up to all manner of things. Our talk may have been dirty—filthy even—but this was love. This was tender. The way he treated me was always predicated on respect. He worshipped me—my curves, my body, my mind, and my spirit. He got it.
Heart racing, I choked out, “I love you, Wyatt.”
Immediately, I regretted it.
“Oh, baby, I love you, too.”
I couldn’t discount this being pillow talk, but it got me over the panic.
“Oh, god, make me cum!” I screamed. “Wyatt, make me cum!”
He pounded into me. I completely lost my mind, “Oh, mon dieu!Fuck!”
The orgasm rocked me head-to-toe. I didn’t want it to end. Pleasure rolled over me. My legs twitched. My whole body shuddered. The beautiful, flushed feeling overwhelmed me after the climax hit. I panted, looking up at Wyatt as he also lost his battle with fighting his orgasm.
He groaned, pumping into me hard again, then kissed me. When he pulled back, still inside me, hefinally spoke.
“I promise to tell you I love you the right way if you meant that, Odette—at a time I’m not balls-deep inside your perfect cunt.”
It was naughty and charming. In short, it was perfect.
“I love you, Wyatt. None of that was put on.”
56
DROPPING IN
WYATT
Ilove you never came easy. At least, that was what the world led you to believe. Once I realised Isla loved me—genuinely wanted me—it was easy to fall for her. I love you came too fast for us, but I never regretted wearing my heart on my sleeve. She was quick to tell me the same. With Odette, my heart was more guarded and worn. Still, I was hers the minute she said those three little words. I couldn’t say anything else. Deep down, I knew I loved her. I’d fallen for her.
My feelings for Odette became even more obsessive and genuine after a weekend with her—really with her. With Isla, the spoils of my labour came later in life—well after we’d been together for years. In this case, I could properly spoil Odette with moneyandtime. She only gave it back in adoration. I lived to care for her. After a weekend posing as anactualcouple, I wanted it every day. It was all I could think about.
When the French politicians got back to me about our proposal to revolutionise their new light rail and gather data about a new suburban line, I wasn’t even remotely upset about them saying no. It was hardly a waste for the many hours I’d spent in bed with Odette or out soaking up the city. By the next day, I was over it and looking forward to Odette coming by for dinner.
She’d been busy with her family welcoming thenewest member—little Manon—and ensuring the baby and its mother made it home. The Queen’s delivery of her fourth child was the only thinganyonecould discuss. That included Theo, who was dying to meet this new baby.
Stephen appeared in my doorway. “Sir, I have better news.”
“Yes?” I turned from my computer screen.
“The St Louis proposal has netted some feedback,” Stephen said. “They would like to meet face-to-face.”
“Really?”
It was a dream. My hometown floated the idea of a new rapid transit bus and bike highway. They were transforming parkways to prioritise transit. With a new mayor, the plan was all speed ahead. We’d submitted a bid. For me, it was exactly what I wanted to do. With the Neandia project on its way and a lull approaching, running back to St Louis appealed. It was a dream. I could take Theo back to America for a year.
However, doing so would exponentially complicate things with Odette. When we submitted a bid, I wasn’t in a relationship with a princess, which permanently tied me to Neandia. I couldn’t avoid it. We’d be against legacy companies, especially the boutique subsidiary I bid on the project with.
“Do you know when?” I asked.
“Next week.”
“Book it. Tell them I am excited to meet.”
“Will Her Royal Highness be travelling with us, sir?”
“I will update you,” I said.