“You wish. Have you got everything ready for our honeymoon?”
“Almost. We still have a week to go, so I’m just leaving a few things for last-minute packing. Why?”
“Because I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” Her eyes widen and I can see the glimmer in them. After the New Year celebration, we are setting off to London, where we’ll be spending two weeks and then we’ll be off to Paris where she has no idea what I have waiting for her.
I pick up her hand and we face our guests who are still cheering. I feel so blessed right now. Tess taught me to live in the present and I plan on soaking up every second of it. With her by my side. Forever. Because for fifteen years, give or take, I never thought I’d have my own happily ever after, but now, I can’t wait to experience every single minute of it with the love of my life.
CHAPTER26
TESS AND ROSCOE
A breeze blows through the window, making the net curtains waft inside. Parisian decor is different to New York—netting covers all the bedchamber windows to block out the view from the other maisons sharing the courtyard with us. The house in the Sixteenth Arrondissement, Trocadéro’s Rue Decamps, was built in the eighteenth century. Having net curtains gives our house a romantic, Continental vibe. I love it.
When I turn over, Roscoe is stirring. We’re so in sync that we always wake up at the same time. Before he can wake completely, I run into the bathroom and put on my mascara. A quick rinse of my mouth and I’m ready. As I climb back into bed, my husband smiles. “What’s so funny?” I want to know, snuggling next to him, as we both look at the door. There’s a knock and the housekeeper comes in with a tray with two bol du thé and a small plate of tartines. My favorite breakfast. “Merci, Barbette. Nous ne voulons pas être dérangés, s’il vous plaît.” The housekeeper curtsies, closing the door behind her.
“And why don’t you want us to be disturbed, Madame Bridges?” Roscoe wants to know. He hands me my bowl of tea and a tartine, still with that wicked smile on his face. “Would it have something to do with the mascara on your face?”
“Dammit, Roscoe. Don’t make me spell it out.” I sip the tea and nibble the tartine. “We got back so late from the opera last night, there was no time for…”
Roscoe gulps down his bowl of tea and crams a tartine in his mouth. For one moment, I think he’s got an early morning meeting, but my toes curl with satisfaction when I see that he’s rushing for another reason entirely. “Hold that thought,” he growls, climbing out of bed and running for the shower.
I watch him leave. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of watching Roscoe walk around the bedroom naked, but there’s something about our new life in Paris that makes us just that little bit more in love. Maybe it’s the white walled architecture; maybe it’s the food; perhaps it’s because we get to laugh about our past heartbreaks together, because they didn’t kill us, they only made us stronger.
I brought my designs to Paris when we came here on our honeymoon. I wanted to show them to the Parisian fashion houses in case the cease-and-desist order against Sarah was ignored and she went ahead with her cheap knock-off production anyway.
Roscoe secretly set up the meetings for me before we even got married. That was his surprise to me, that he waited until we got to Paris to share. Sadistic bastard. But I love him more than words can say. When the fashion houses got to see my designs, I got three job offers on the spot. After consulting with Becky, who knows all the artistic directors at the French haute couture houses, I went with her advice as to where to begin as a junior designer. Being with Roscoe made me realize I must start humble and work my way up; so no one can say I got to the top because of who my husband is.
I shouldn’t have really worried about Sarah or the media, because less than a week before we arrived here, the video-footage from our meeting where she forced me to sign the contract was leaked to the press. And our roles were reversed. Now, I’m no longer the gold-digger and she has not only been disgraced as a fashion designer, but is being investigated for intellectual property theft, plagiarism, fraud, and blackmail. They are even talking about revoking her degree. She loves the press so much, she must be loving all the attention now, I guess.
To this day, I still have no idea how those videos got to the media outlets. But I have my suspicions.
Thing is, I don’t really care anymore. Especially now, because my husband just came out of the shower and he’s even hotter when he’s dripping wet.
* * *
The sight of my beautiful wife lying in bed never fails to make me happy…and intensely turned on. There’s not a part of her body that I don’t adore: her smooth, peachy ass, her gorgeous breasts, her long golden blonde hair. She’s the perfect package. I walk around to the foot of the bed and lift the end of the duvet. She giggles when I stick my head under it and start sucking her toes, but as my mouth moves higher, her giggles turn into soft moans of pleasure. By the time I reach her inner thighs, Tessa Rose Bridges is reaching for my head to push it down onto her soft mound, but I know what I’m doing. We’re so in sync with our bodies now, we could come off by just looking at one another.
I bury my mouth in between her legs. She tastes delicious as usual. I hear her moans get louder as I flick my tongue over her. She pulls my hair as her need for me to penetrate her increases. Tess loves to come with me inside her. If I make her come with my mouth, she likes to continue making love until we fuck deep and long, only stopping when I burst inside her and lie panting and spent beside her, happier than I ever believed was possible.
“Do you like that?” I want to know, tonguing her deep and then flicking my mouth across her sensitive nub. “Don’t stop,” she sighs, “I’m close…” It’s too late. My cock is rampant and ready. I push into her, feeling the surging warmth of her soft walls milking me empty.
The light breeze from the courtyard blows over my skin and I close my eyes. “Can I lie here for a moment, sweetheart?” My voice is muffled, my head is buried in the long hair falling around her neck and the pillow. “It feels so nice, you know? Before, during, and after sex with you. It always feels so good.”
Her arms are wrapped tightly around me. “I understand what you mean,” Tess whispers. “Our past, our present, and our future, together is all that matters.”
“Tess Bridges,” I say, “I could not have put it better myself.”