Page 120 of One Little Kiss

“Always, and in two days, you’ll be Mrs. Westbrook.”

She rolls over to stare up at me, and I see all her fears, hopes, and dreams in those gray eyes. With her hair splayed out on the crisp white sheets, she looks like an angel. My angel.

“Do you think I’ll smell different after we get married?” Humor sparkles brightly in her gaze.

“I know you will,” I state confidently.

“What? You’re insane.” She bats my chest playfully, but I capture her wrist and bring her palm to my lips.

Kissing the inside of her wrist, I wait for the gasp that always comes when I lick her pulse there. I curl a finger under her chin and pull her to me when I’m rewarded with the sound I love. “After we’re married, you’ll smell like mine.” The way Winnie’s expression softens when I use that commanding tone has me rock hard and desperate for her, but glancing at the clock, I know I’m already late. “Don’t look at me like that, CC. I have a meeting to get to.”

An evil grin shows her playful side. Airport Winnie is slowly resurfacing. “I can be quick.”

Her hand slips beneath my boxer briefs, and I lift up onto my elbows. “Is that so? What if I can’t be?”

“I can be very convincing,” she whispers huskily as I feel her hot breath through the cotton of my boxers. When she mouths me through the material, my hips buck wildly. Winnie holds my thighs in place and lowers my boxers with her teeth.

“What happened to being quick?” I grind out and immediately regret it. Her lips curl around my tip with the suction of a fucking vacuum cleaner, and Winnie makes good on her word. I come down her throat with a grunt and a curse minutes later.

When I have my equilibrium back, I haul her up my body and roll her beneath me, but my gaze catches sight of the clock. Now I’m really fucking late, and Preston will kill me if I miss the appointments with the real estate agent he lined up.

“I don’t have time to do what I want to do to you, sweetheart. But tonight? After Weston goes to bed, I’m going to taste you everywhere and drink you in until you’re begging for mercy.”

“I look forward to it. And, Colton,” she quickly adds when I start to stand.

“Yeah?”

Something in her gaze has me lowering myself to her again. “In case I forget to tell you, I’m really excited about marrying you. I mean, I want to. I’m happy, too. You’ve given me something I never thought I’d ever be able to have.”

“What’s that, baby?”

“Trust. In love, in life. In you. You’ve given me something I thought was beyond repair. You’ve made me feel and believe. You’ve given me the fairytale, Colton.”

It’s like she harnessed the sun after a month-long night.

“Winnie Darling, soon to be Westbrook, you are by far the best part of me. And our fairytale is just beginning, sweetheart.” Fuck the time. I capture her lips in a kiss that’s equal parts desire, love, and hope. I kiss her until she’s panting and writhing beneath me, and when I pull away, her lips are swollen and red and still taste like cherry fucking cola. “I think I have to quit my job.” I keep a straight face as long as I can.

“What? What do you mean?”

“It’s getting in the way of making love to my fiancée whenever I want.”

Relief floods her face, and she laughs out loud. With a chaste kiss, I leave her panting on the bed and head to the shower just as we hear Wes through the monitor. I freeze in the doorway, torn. Mornings have become our time; I hate missing even one of them.

“Colton. It’s okay. Go get ready. I’ve got Wes. It wasn’t that long ago I was all he had. He’ll manage without you for a couple of hours.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” I grumble.

Her laughter follows her down the hall.

How the fuck did I get so lucky?

* * *

The luck of the Irish my ass. Today has turned out to be one clusterfuck after another. I’m standing in the middle of an abandoned motel with a realtor who knows as much about real estate as I know about brain surgery.

“Do you know the specs on this one?” I bite out. My patience with this woman wore out somewhere in the last building. I’m a consummate professional, but Lindsey is on my last goddamn nerve.Where the hell did Preston find this woman?

“Specs?” she asks, smacking her gum.