Page 266 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Four weeks later

Solene

"Whoa, my feed is going crazy." I take in the likes, comments, and views that multiply by a factor of a hundred, if not a thousand, by the second.

Just ten minutes ago, the post stood at a hundred thousand likes.

It doubled to two hundred thousand and is gaining momentum.

The comments are all positive—like all positive. "I’ve never seen anything like this."

I hold up my phone where I’d posted a photo of Declan and me—in identical hospital gowns, with tubes running from our noses, IVs stuck in our arms, disheveled hair, and twin expressions of happiness, sheer adoration, and love… Yeah, we’re wearing what one of my fans has called the #DecleneDelight

And then there was the #AngstyDeclene hashtag that trended when the pap who’d got a picture of Declan with a tear rolling down his cheek in the hospital cafeteria published it and the fans jumped on it and shared it all over social media.

Both are cringeworthy hashtags, but they’ve caught the imagination of my followers and his.

My follower count has catapulted, as has his.

We kept the news of the twin operations a complete secret, except for our closest friends.

And even then, we told them not to come over, but instead, stay focused on the rescue efforts for Knight.

There was no stopping my sister Olivia, nor Declan’s brother Arpad, though.

They came over to be with us during the operation and only left a week ago…

After making the two of us promise to visit London and see them very soon.

The good news is, the procedure was a success, and both of us are on our way to recovery.

It also means, neither of us has any other commitments, at least, for another month.

I urged him to get reconstructive surgery on the new scar on his forehead, not because it bothers me, but because I know how he feels about scars, but he refused.

He insisted the audience must accept him as he is.

He also shared how the wound was self-inflicted, as well as how his friends knocked him around until they knocked some sense into him—his words, not mine.

I was shocked, and honestly, a bit amazed they showed up to help him, even if they were a bit violent, and he insisted it was a good thing.

That it spurred him to return to my hospital room and share his feelings with me. .. Which is why we’re here, together.

Declan’s team of lawyers ensured the insurers cover the delay in shooting the film.

The result? Even the hard-nosed financiers of the project were pacified enough to wait.

The even more important result? This is the longest ever we’ve both been in one place, under one roof and in each other’s company.

It’s also the happiest I’ve ever been, and the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.

Speaking of, the most handsome, most charismatic, most striking, heart-stoppingly dominant man in the world continues to stare at me without speaking.

I flush. "What?"

"Can’t I admire how gorgeous my wife to-be is?"

"So, our engagement is real after all, I take it?"

His beautiful, puffy lower lip curls. "Did you ever think otherwise?"

"So why didn’t you ask me to marry you for real? Why that entire pretend-to-be-married-so-it’s-good-for-our careers thing?"

"Because it was… It is good for both of our careers?" He smirks.

I peer at him from under my eyelashes. "You’re a cocky bastard."

"Your cocky bastard."

I chuckle. "You’re also in a very good mood."

"I’m here in our bed, with my beautiful and utterly ravishing fiancée, and I have nowhere to be for, at least, the next week. What’s not to be in a good mood about?"

He folds his arms behind his neck, and his biceps bulge.

I take in that beautiful neck of his, those shoulders, those cut muscles of his chest—which haven’t lost any of their edge, despite the fact he hasn't been able to work out for the last three weeks—the white bandage at his side which is a twin to the one I sport on mine.

"How are you feeling?" I ask softly. It’s been three weeks since the operation in which they took the kidney from him and immediately transplanted it in me.

I opened my eyes, and the first thing I wanted to know was if he was okay.

The doctor in charge of the procedure laughed and told me he did the same when he regained consciousness.

Prior to the surgery, he'd also insisted—no, demanded—that he be wheeled into the recuperating room with me so we could recover from the operation side-by-side. The team in charge wasn’t happy, but after an internal consultation, they agreed.

Considering a part of him is inside of me now, there's no way they could have kept us apart.

"How are you feeling?" he shoots back.

"Getting stronger every day." I smile.

He traces the curve of my lips with his eyes, and it’s as if he’s touched me. Then he leans across the bed and does so with his fingers. A shiver runs down my spine, my nipples tighten, and my pussy clenches.

"Darling Rabbit, you need to behave. I’m not going to fuck you until you’re completely, one-hundred percent back to normal; you know that."

I pout. I know. I understand why. But also, I don’t want to understand why. I toss my phone aside, then crawl over to him. Pain radiates out from the site of where they cut into me, but I ignore it.

"Soon we’ll be sporting matching scars, huh?" I throw my leg over his waist and place my pussy exactly over that swollen portion at his crotch.

"Jesus, what are you trying to do, baby?" he growls.

I wriggle until my wet panties, which are wedged inside my melting slit, are framed around his rapidly swelling cock. "What do you think I’m trying to do, baby?"

That slow curve of his lips is in evidence again, my heart flutters. My stomach feels like I’ve swallowed an entire flock of hummingbirds who are fluttering and trying to break out. "I want you," I murmur.

"You have me." He places his massive hand on my hip. "You had me from the moment that angelic voice of yours reached me on the shore that day."

"You know exactly the right thing to say to me, don’t you?" I lean over and place my lips over his. "I can kiss you, can’t I?" I murmur.

"I suppose that’s allowed.

"And this?" I swipe my tongue across his mouth, and when he parts his lips, I slide my tongue over his. Soft and sweet and dark and… everything. The taste of him is better than any Michelin-star meal.

His hold on my hip tightens, and I can’t stop the satisfaction that slithers through my veins.

I deepen the kiss, and he allows it. He lets me suck on his tongue and lick across his teeth and moan into his breath.

When I bite down on his lower lip, it’s as if a shock of electricity zings down his body.

He hisses, then clamps his other hand around my neck.

I try to kiss him again but am unable to do so because he’s holding me away.

"But I wanna." I scowl.

"And you will. You can have my tongue and my cock and my fingers all over you and in you. You can have your thighs squeezed around my face as I devour your cunt."

Heat surges under my skin.

"You can have your nipples pinched and your tits massaged as I fuck them, you can have your slit stretched around my cock as I stuff myself inside your tight hole, as I caress the space between your arse cheeks and make you come with such intensity, it’ll be close to a religious experience."

The heat extends to my toes, my fingers, and my scalp, until every part of me is on fire, and my very breath seems to have turned into a thousand tiny sparks that infiltrate all of my cells and make me writhe around on his cock.

"You can have it all, baby. After you’re better."

"But I’m so horny,” I whine.

"Horny huh?"

I nod. "What are you gonna do about it?"