The Wrong Bride (The Windsors, #1)(62)

Ares lowers himself on top of me and nestles his face in my neck, his breathing ragged. “Better than any of my fantasies,” he groans. “I’ve only just had you, and I already need more.”

I smile as I wrap my arms around him, my heart racing. Ares kisses my neck, over and over again, and for the first time since we got married, I feel a sense of permanence with him. This thing between us… there’s no going back from it.





Chapter Thirty-Eight





Raven





I frown as I scroll through the comments on the last campaign I posted while I walk to the main house. It’s a simple photo of me holding a bottle of perfume, but it’s got some strange comments. Or rather, the comments are quite ordinary, but the usernames are all extremely weird.





Iwanttokissravensfoot: is the perfume as sweet as you are?

Fanofthedimplesonravensback: I love the way you’re smiling in this photo. What will it take for you to look at me the way you look at that bottle of perfume?

Obsessedwithravenssmile: I want to be in your photos too, you know? I’ve never been jealous of a bottle of perfume before, but I am today. You’ve turned me into a fool.

Iwanttolickravensknee: I want to fuck you with nothing but that perfume on, Rave. Just you on our bed, my face between your legs, and the subtle scent of perfume in the air.

ravenshusband2409: does that perfume smell like you? If so, I’m buying all available inventory so I can have a part of you when you aren’t with me… and so no one else can.

Ravenisthequeenofcupcakes: if this was your signature scent, I reckon it’d smells like cupcakes and sunshine.

ravenismycupcake: you’re so beautiful that it hurts. I’m going to make this photo my phone’s background so I get to see you smile at me like that all day.

Ravenismywifestayaway: I’m running out of patience. I need everyone to know that you’re mine.





I chuckle as I pull up my messaging app.

Raven: I think my favorite is the “I want to lick Raven’s knee” one. It’s... weirdly unique.

Ares: is this one of those moments where honesty is required? Because if not, my official statement is… it wasn’t me.

Raven: That’s too bad. There was this one comment that I was quite intrigued by. It was something like: “I want to fuck you with nothing but that perfume on, Rave. Just you on our bed, my face between your legs, and the subtle scent of perfume in the air.”

Raven: but if it isn’t you, then that’s too bad. I suppose there’s no need for me to bring a bottle of perfume home with me.

Ares: It was me. It was all me. All of them. I confess.

I burst out laughing and shake my head.

“Wow. I can’t remember the last time I saw you laugh like that.”

I look up to find Sierra smiling at me. She hooks her arm through mine and pulls me along. Grandma called both of us over, and that isn’t exactly uncommon, yet I’m nervous about it this time. It’s the first time I’m seeing her as Ares’s wife. True to her word, she gave us one month to spend together — and not a day more.

“So,” Sierra says, wiggling her eyebrows. “How has it been? Did you manage to make my dumb brother fall for you yet?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “It’s only been a month, Ser.”

She shrugs. “Have you fucked him, at least? That’s probably the easiest way to get to his heart.”

My cheeks heat as I think back to the way he felt inside me, the way he touched me.

“Oh my god, you have!”

I throw her a warning look. “Do you really want to hear about me sleeping with your brother?”

She rolls her eyes. “Hell no. I didn’t ask you for details. I just wanted to know whether you’d done it yet or not. What should we call this? Operation Honey Trap?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “This one is Operation Happily Ever After.”

“Awwww,” she gushes. “I love that. Look at you, Rave, being all romantic and shit. Do you finally get the appeal?”

I shrug. I won’t admit to her that I do. Sierra is the most romantic person I’ve ever met, and if she isn’t working her ass off being a total badass CEO, she’s reading romance novels or watching rom coms. Because of that, she has some insanely high standard that she thinks we should all aspire to. I wonder how long it’ll take her to realize that the fictional men she adores so much are all written by women.

“Girls!”

We both smile as grandma holds her arms open for us. “Dibs!” I shout as I make a run for it, rushing into Grandma’s arms before Sierra has a chance to beat me to it. Grandma chuckles and hugs me tightly.

“Ugh,” Sierra groans. “I can’t even call you a grandma snatcher anymore, because she’s your Grandma now too.”

I smirk at her as I pull away from Grandma. She leads us into her living room, and this time, it’s Sierra who dashes forward. She grabs the plate of cookies that was waiting for us, and without hesitating for even a single moment, she empties to plate into her handbag.

I look at her in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

She stares me down, a victorious, smug look on her face. “Yeah. I did what I did.”