Page 29 of Falling for Mr. Wrong (The Rules We Break #2)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Damien

T he place is dressed to impress — white tents pitched on the lawn of some waterfront estate, fairy lights strung overhead, champagne glasses already clinking. People mill around in their best clothes, voices low and polite.

I’ve got my hand at the small of Lyla’s back, guiding her through the crowd. She’s wearing this soft, fitted dress in a color that makes her skin glow, and every single man who looks at her is a reminder that she’s mine .

She glances up at me with that knowing smile — the one that tells me she’s very aware of the effect she’s having. “You’re staring,” she murmurs.

“Can’t help it,” I say.

We greet Savannah, who looks radiant and happy, and even Colton, who manages a small, civil smile. For a second, I think maybe this whole thing will be painless.

But then Lyla leans in to whisper something in my ear, her breath brushing my skin, and I feel my restraint snap.

I murmur, “Come with me,” and take her hand, leading her through the crowd, past the side hall, and into one of the private bathrooms tucked away near the back of the house.

The second the door clicks shut, I’ve got her pressed against it.

“Damien—” she starts, but it’s not protest. It’s the kind of voice she uses when she wants me to keep going.

I kiss her hard, my hands sliding down her sides to grip her hips. “Couldn’t wait,” I mutter against her lips. “All night, I’ve been thinking about getting you alone.”

Her fingers are at my tie, loosening it, then at the buttons of my shirt. I hike her dress up, my palms finding the heat of her thighs, and she gasps when I hook my fingers in her panties and push them aside.

The space is small, the air thick with the scent of her perfume and my need. “Turn around,” I tell her, my voice low.

She does, bracing her hands on the marble counter. I push her forward just enough so she can see us in the mirror, my reflection moving in behind her.

The sound of my zipper opening feels loud in the quiet room, and then I’m sliding into her in one smooth, hungry thrust. Her head drops forward, a muffled moan spilling from her lips.

“Look at us,” I growl into her ear. “Look at how you take me.”

Her gaze flickers up to the glass, catching mine. She whimpers, biting her lip to keep the sounds in, but I can feel every shiver in her body.

My hand slides around her front, fingers finding her clit and circling hard enough to make her knees buckle. “You’re gonna come for me in here, baby,” I murmur. “And then you’re gonna walk back out there like I haven’t just fucked you against the counter.”

She’s already trembling, her hips pushing back into mine with every thrust. I pull her hair just enough to bring her upright against my chest, kissing the side of her neck, dragging my teeth lightly over her skin.

“Damien—” Her voice breaks, and I feel her tighten around me.

“That’s it,” I groan, pumping into her harder. “Come for me.”

She does — her whole body going taut, her breath catching before spilling out in a muffled cry. I keep moving, chasing my own release, and a few hard thrusts later I’m spilling into her, my forehead dropping to her shoulder.

We stay there for a beat, breathing hard, my hands still on her hips. Then I straighten, pulling her dress back down over her thighs and kissing the side of her neck once more.

“Think anyone will notice?” she whispers, glancing at her reflection.

I smirk, tucking myself back in. “Only you can feel my cum dripping out of you, baby. You ready to act innocent?”

“I am innocent,” she teases, with a playful wink.

We slip back into our seats like we’ve been there the whole time. My focus should be on the ceremony, but my head’s still full of the sound she made when she came in my arms ten minutes ago.

Colton and Savannah stand before the officiant, hands joined, voices steady as they say their vows. It’s a picture-perfect moment — the crowd silent, the sun breaking through the clouds over the water.

I feel Lyla shift closer, her lips brushing my ear as she whispers, “By the way… we might need to paint the spare bedroom sooner than we thought.”

My brow furrows. “What—?”

She leans back just enough to catch my eye, one corner of her mouth lifting. Then her hand drops low, gently rubbing her belly.

The words hit me like a punch — but the good kind, the kind that knocks the breath right out of you in the best way. My chest tightens, my throat locks, and for a second I’m not sure I heard her right.

“You—”

She nods, her eyes bright, and before I can say another word, the officiant announces, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Everyone stands, applause breaking out around us, but it’s all a blur. My hands find her face, my forehead pressed to hers, both of us laughing quietly in the middle of the celebration.

While the whole crowd claps for the bride and groom, Lyla and I have our own celebration. And it’s the best news I could’ve ever received.