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For You, I Will (Sex and Vows 2)

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“I love you too, Sunshine.” I nuzzled her nose and pecked her lips again. “My only sunshine.”

Curious about Alex & Evie’s story? An excerpt of their book, Until Death Do We Part, is next!

Until Death Do We Part

A Sex & Vows Novel

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Alex Shaw.

Code Name: Justice

Contracts attorney.

Adoring husband.

Spy with a reputation for being able to break anyone.

Genevieve Shaw.

Code Name: Scarlett

International art dealer.

Loving wife.

Covert operative with more kills to her name than any other agent.

They’re crazy in love... and completely unaware of what the other is hiding. Four years of wedded bliss is blown apart when they finally cross paths on a mission. They’re hunting the same target, but with very different goals. Justice has been sent to retrieve and interrogate. Scarlett to eliminate the threat.

On opposite ends of a mission, their love is put to the ultimate test.

Prologue

Alex

“Sold!”

A smile crawled across my face as the tall, silver haired auctioneer slammed the gavel down on the podium. I stood slowly, biding my time as I watched the most beautiful woman on the face of the planet walk toward the stage to collect the painting. She was tall and graceful, her hips swaying seductively as she moved. Her profile showed off her long lashes, straight nose, full lips, and an incredible set of tits. My mouth watered, but when she turned to face the front, I surreptitiously checked for drool at the sight of her ass. Her shiny, mahogany hair hung long, the ends brushing right along the top of her ass and I flexed my fists, trying to relax the muscles twitching in their need to wrap it around one hand while the other left a pretty pink handprint on her skin. She glanced behind her and my eyes met hers, glued to the sight of round, chocolate brown eyes, accented by her tanned complexion. Her full, rosy lips tipped up and she raised an eyebrow, clearly amused at my unabashed staring. Fuck, she was amazing. An absolute goddess. I winked, and her smile became a wide grin before she took the wrapped Cézanne being handed to her and sauntered to the exit on the left side of the room, leading to a wing of offices.

A low whistle sounded from beside me and an unexpected growl rose to the surface. I tamped down the desire to hit something, or someone, as I turned to look at my companion. Colin’s eyes were on the door where Genevieve Porter’s very fine ass had been seconds before. “That’s the art dealer?” he asked then looked at me, his brow lifting in surprise.

I imagined it was because of the dark look on my face. I couldn’t explain it, but I was suddenly pissed he’d been looking at my woman. That thought was out of the blue, and it probably should have knocked me flat on my ass. Except, I recognized the truth in it. I would do whatever it took to have her. Luckily, I was in London to oversee the sale contract between Genevieve and my client, a museum owned by a large corporation in New York. I’d read the dossier on her from cover to cover, but there hadn’t been a photo, for which I was eternally grateful because if my superiors had seen my reaction to her, I would have been given another assignment.

“You can go, Colin,” I informed him gruffly. “You won the piece, the paperwork is my job. No need for you to stay. I’ll meet you back at the hotel with the information.”

Colin opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the shrill ring of his cell phone. He retrieved it from his pocket and stepped back into a darkened corner of the room to take the call. I gathered my briefcase and coat, then headed in the direction I’d last seen my goddess.

“Alex.”

The tone of Colin’s voice brought me round, and I joined him just behind one of the thick, blue velvet curtains draped on either side of the wide double doors leading into the auction room.

“Pierce is dead.”

“What the fuck?” I growled. It was the last thing I needed right then.

Colin shrugged. “Robbery, apparently. Found him in a house in Kensington. Throat slit while he slept.”

“Did the police find anything?” I asked. Pierce was the collector Genevieve had purchased the Cézanne from. We were anxious to speak to him, but he was a recluse and as best we could tell, Genevieve was the first person to have any contact with him in two years. I’d really been hoping for an introduction. Shit.

Colin was tapping away on his phone, and I cuffed his shoulder to get his attention. He frowned at me and glanced back down when his device buzzed yet again. “Jack says they found evidence of mafia ties.” Shocking, I thought, mentally rolling my eyes. He was silent for another moment, then shut his cell down and put it in his pocket. “They found the ledger. I guess he kept a paper trail after all. Turns out, there was a kill order placed two days ago. People are fucking pissed. Anyway, Jack says to finish the transaction and enjoy your vacation.”

I scrubbed my hands down my face and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. What about her?”

“Doesn’t look like she knew anything about his activities. Jack says the company did a full profile, she’s clean. Just do the deal and hand off the painting to the courier.”

“Fine,” I agreed, my mind already jumping ahead to my new plan. “I’ll see you back in Washington next week.”

He slapped me on the back and strode from the room. I started toward the spot where I was supposed to meet the goddess, Genevieve, already plotting my attack. She wouldn’t know what hit her.

***

“Stop, Alex!” Evie screeched as she made a run for it. I easily caught up to her, my arm slinging around her waist and slamming her body back against mine. I used the momentum to propel us both onto the large bed in our bedroom. She started screeching with laughter as my fingers dug into her ribs. I flipped her onto her back and covered her body with mine.

“I’m going to keep you right here until you agree, baby,” I whispered, my face so close to hers our lips brushed with every word. Leaning back a little, I grinned down at her. Fuck. She was so damn gorgeous. Her eyes were sparkling with humor and happiness, her skin flushed, and her chest heaving from the exertion of laughing so hard. “When are you going to marry me?”

Her face softened and her arms slid around my torso before she hugged me tight. Her soft tits pillowed against my chest, and I was suddenly very aware that the only barrier between her sweet pussy and my cock was a tiny scrap of fabric.

From the moment I officially met Genevieve, I was addicted, and that addiction had only gotten stronger with every day we were together.

“Alex Shaw,” I had introduced myself, holding my hand out.

“Genevieve, well, Evie, Porter.” Her hand slid into mine and a sizzle streaked through me. The look on her face told me she’d felt it too.

We completed the sale of the Cézanne and with very little persuasion, she agreed to meet me for dinner. I was loathe to leave her, but I had to pass the painting off to the courier. I may have been intending to overwhelm her, but it was me who fell like a ton of bricks. She showed up to the restaurant in a white, strapless, summer dress, the color and design showing off all of her assets. Her skirt swished around her tanned, endless legs with every step, and don’t get me started on the sexy heels on her pink tipped feet. Her hair hung loose, the moon causing the reddish tint to shimmer, and she wore very little makeup, she didn’t need it. I was mentally and emotionally knocked over. She was my every dream come true, and I knew there would never be anyone else more perfect for me than my Evie.

Throughout dinner, I studied her, hoping to see any sign she was feeling the same way. I was so flustered by the new sensations, I almost missed it. But, Evie was no shy wallflower, thank fuck.

“Alex,” Evie leaned forward, placing a soft palm on my forearm as it rested on table, searing my skin from the contact with hers. The waiter had cleared our last dishes and as I’d paid the check, I was contemplating the odds of how likely it was I could get her to go bac

k to my hotel with me.

I smiled. “What, baby?” Her cheeks tinged a little pink at the endearment. Damn, that flush would look so pretty on every inch of her skin.



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