Weekend Wife (Sassy in the City 1)

Nothing sounded better than that. “I feel like there is a double meaning in that.”

“There is. And I feel like you don’t like my singing.”

I gave him a smirk, deliriously happy. “Stick to real estate, Caldwell.”

I produced the plate of chocolate chip pancakes and set it in front of Leah with a flourish. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Wow, I’m impressed.” Leah gave me a sleepy, sexy smile and yawned. “Thank you, sweetheart. Rose would be proud of you.”

“Trust me, I’m sending her a picture of my work. Here’s your coffee.” I had gotten up early to surprise her with my culinary skills. I’d been practicing the pancakes for a few weeks. Turned out it wasn’t that hard, but the flip was a certain skill set I hadn’t previously possessed. I was in my underwear and she was in my T-shirt, sporting some serious “just fucked” hair. Which she had been. Repeatedly.

“Mm, I need that. You kept me up late.”

I had. My cock hardened at the memory. “We’re in Fiji on a private island and I owed you a hundred orgasms. I had to make some serious headway.”

She sighed with contentment. “You definitely did.” She sipped her coffee again and put her fork through the pancakes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” The last two months with Leah had been the best of my entire life. She made me feel light, happy, content. She made me laugh. “I’m proud of you, by the way. My little Nikki Sixx.”

She hadn’t gotten the part of young Cher that Gigi had arranged the audition for, but the very next week she’d gotten a chorus girl role entirely on her own. It was for a long-running show and she’d made the decision to give up the server position at the diner. It was a huge step for her, and I was thrilled she was finding her success. Though I was going to miss that poodle skirt. Fond memories of tugging that fabric up came to mind.

Leah laughed. “You know what? I’m proud of me too.”

“Good.” I poured myself a cup of coffee and leaned over the counter in front of her, watching my beautiful soulmate eat, the backdrop of crystalline blue water behind her. Yes, I said it. Soulmate. Leah was it for me. “Are you ready to get married today?”

“One hundred percent.”

Leah had agreed to marry me, which amazed me, but I wasn’t going to question it. We had just moved into an apartment together, and because she was independent and proud, we were

splitting the rent. I think when I actually agreed to that without question, knowing I’d be living in a shoebox with a crap bathroom, she had realized how fucking serious I was about this relationship.

I’d had to jettison ninety percent of my belongings. She had taken to calling me the “billionaire in a box.” She could call me whatever she wanted as long as I could call her mine. Besides, I liked being on top of her. And I meant that exactly how you think.

“I’ve never been more prepared for any role than that of your wife.”

I growled and reached for her. She laughed and tried to get up and escape, but I caught her and hauled her back to the bedroom.

“Who’s faking it now?” I asked her twenty minutes later as she shattered beneath me.

“Not your fiancé,” she murmured, eyes glazed with love and pleasure.

Within two hours, we said “I do” on a yacht on the water with no one but the officiant.

No circus.

Just me and her.

Then we jumped overboard.