Crew is acting strange. He came home distracted, but on time, missing Sophie and Nadia’s visit by only a few minutes. Pet Teddy and kissed Elizabeth before they went to bed, but it was autopilot. The same actions he does every night when he returns from work.
I watch him check his phone in the mirror’s reflection. Glance out the window. I set down the tube of lipstick.
“You know…we don’t have to do this tonight.”
That jerks him out of his reverie. Crew glances over, looking surprised. And confused. “What? Why?”
“It’s been a long day. And you seem…I don’t know, out of it. We can reschedule.”
His eyebrows rise and a touch of amusement reaches his lips. “Reschedule? It’s our anniversary.”
“I know, but it’s just a date. Our track record with annual holidays or celebrations or whatever isn’t great. And shouldn’t we celebrate our marriage every day, not just the day we got married?”
A full-blown smirk is his response to that comment. “Who knew you were such a romantic, Red?”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up. I’m serious.”
“I am too. So finish getting ready so we can go to dinner.”
“Hungry?”
“Yeah.” He slips his phone away, studying me with the expression of a sinner, not a saint. “For dessert. I’ll be downstairs.”
We’ve fooled around like horny teenagers since Elizabeth was born, but sex hasn’t happened. And if someone had told me at my wedding a year ago I’d be leaving my newborn daughter at home to go to an anniversary dinner with Crew Kensington with full confidence we were in a monogamous relationship, I would have laughed in their face.
Yet here we are.
I spray on a perfume, grab a pair of Louboutins from the closet, and head downstairs. My mom has made herself comfortable on the couch. Her enthusiasm toward being a grandmother is nearly as surprising as the state of my relationship with Crew. I was mainly raised by nannies. But my mother dotes on Elizabeth every chance she gets. Even my father has surprised me on occasion, asking to hold her or offering up a genuine smile when he sees her. He’s not here tonight, and I don’t ask why. My parents’ relationship isn’t for me to control or judge. Most importantly, it has no bearing on my marriage.
Crew is leaning against the wall next to the elevator, staring off into space. He straightens when he sees me coming, his blue gaze darkening with lust.
I smirk at him before greeting my mother. “Hi, Mom.”
She smiles as she looks me over. “You look beautiful, Scarlett.”
“Thank you. Do you need anything before we go?”
“No, no.” She waves a hand toward the entryway. “You two have a lovely evening. If Elizabeth wakes up, I’ll be here.”
“Okay.” I hesitate for a few seconds, even though she’s already turned back to the book open on her lap. Then, I walk over to Crew.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Ready,” I confirm as we step into the elevator.
“How was work?” he asks.
“Good. July issue is all set, and the summer line is sold out.”
He smiles at me proudly. “Congrats, Red.”
“Thanks. How was your day?” Kensington Consolidated has officially weathered the storm. The investigation ended without charges. Stock has risen. Being the CEO of a Dow company isn’t your typical nine to five though.
We sound like we’ve been married for decades. Crew is talking about some deal Oliver wants to take as we walk from the elevator to the bay of the garage for the penthouse where our cars are kept. We climb into Crew’s Lamborghini.
Impulsively, I lean over and unzip his pants. He stops talking immediately, zeroing on my hand palming his cock. The growl of the metal teeth parting is the only sound in the car.
“Did he show you their deliverables?” I ask, tracing the outline of his erection with my fingers.
Crew’s breathing is fast and ragged. “I can’t even remember what we were just talking about, to be honest.”
I laugh a little before I tug his cock out and lower my head, running my tongue around the crown.
“Scarlett.” My name comes out in a garbled groan, full of grit and gravel and want.
The garage lights are motion-activated. They flick off, plunging the car into near darkness, not shadows. The lack of light feels taboo and erotic. Heat pools in my stomach and dampens between my legs, making me feel needy and desperate. I clench my thighs together.
I suck him deeper, hollowing my cheeks and grazing the underside with my teeth, the way I know he likes it. I’m rewarded with a husky growl. One hand glides into my hair and tugs. “God, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, Red,” he rasps. “You suck me so good, baby.”
I moan around him, knowing the vibrations will travel down his shaft. His hips jerk, telling me he’s close. Heavy breathing fills the car before he groans and fills my mouth. I swallow and lean back, letting his half-hard dick go after a final, wet suck.
Crew’s head is tilted back. He rolls it to look at me, his eyes lidded and hazy with pleasure. A lazy, satisfied grin on his lips. His cock still out. Still hard. Every woman’s fantasy.
“Come here,” he grits out.
I glance around the dark, empty garage, and then I crawl across the gearshift and settle in his lap. His dick settles against the soaked lace of my underwear as my dress fans out around our laps. I moan at the contact.
Crew’s hand slides up my thigh and between my legs. He growls when he feels how wet I am, the rumble deep and possessive and followed by my name.
He just came, but I’m so worked up I think he could breathe on me and I’d explode. His hand moves to his cock, fisting the long length and rubbing against my center. “You want this, Scarlett?”
“Yes.” I pack as much need into the three letters as I can manage, drawing the word out into a whimper as he starts to nudge inside me.
“This is okay, right? You’re okay?”
Forget breathing. The slight pressure and the concern in his voice causes me to ball my fists to fight off my orgasm. “I’m fine,” I gasp. “Fully recovered. Just fuck me. Please.”
He does, moving my thong to the side and filling me with the delicious glide I’ve missed. His mouth finds the spot between my neck and my shoulder, pressing warm, wet kisses and whispering dirty words against my skin. I rock and grind against him, meeting every thrust until I fall off the peak of pleasure. Waves of warmth spiral and spread, leaving me sated and spent. I feel Crew shudder as he comes inside of me.
I don’t move from his lap, wanting to stay in this moment for a little while longer. Connected, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.
“Not bad for an old married couple, huh?”
My lips tug up into a smile as I lean back and pat his abs. “Glad you haven’t let yourself go.”
His smile is wide and genuine as I slide off him and back to my side of the car. We both fix our outfits before Crew starts the car and rolls out of the garage. He drives with one hand, keeping the other tangled with mine.
I recognize the restaurant he stops outside, even though I’ve never eaten here before. It’s known for being trendy and upscale.
Crew hands the keys over to the valet and we head inside. There’s another couple waiting at the hostess stand we stop behind.
“Have you been here before?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “They have the best view.”
“Best view of what?”
“You’ll see,” is his cryptic answer.
I look around, taking in the brick walls and the black accents and the metal chairs. And the blonde woman walking toward us.
“What a surprise!” Hannah’s voice is peppy, filled with false confidence.
Crew says nothing.
“Is it?” I question, keeping my voice short and dry.
“How are you? I heard you had a baby?” Hannah glances at my stomach, like she’s looking for evidence.
Before I have to respond, another woman approaches us. “Han, the table is ready.”
“Oh, okay,” Hannah replies. “I’ll be right there, Savannah.”
Savannah has focused on Crew. Her eyes widen appreciatively, then slide to me. “Oh my God. I love your dress.”
“Thank you.” I look her over and hide a smile. “I like yours too.”
“Thanks.” Savannah glances down at the beaded bust. “It’s from rouge’s summer line. I just love their stuff.”
Hannah’s mouth twists like she’s sucking on a slice of lemon. Savannah is clearly oblivious, but it’s obvious Hannah knows who owns rouge.
“That’s one of yours?” Crew asks, sounding surprised. Nothing he works on has a tangible output you can run into on the street. I’ve seen strangers reading my magazine and wearing my clothes before, but it still feels strange.
“Holy shit!” Savannah suddenly exclaims. “You’re Scarlett Kensington, aren’t you?”
“Yep,” I reply. “And this is my husband, Crew. We’re celebrating our wedding anniversary.”
“Aww. That is so romantic,” Savannah gushes.
“Crew is super romantic,” I praise. “And so supportive. On the drive here, he said the sweetest things to me.” I don’t look over, but I’m sure he’s stifling some amusement.
“You made it hard not to.” Humor dances in those blue depths, obviously proud of the innuendo.
Hannah looks annoyed and uncomfortable. Savannah is beaming at us like we’re couple goals come to life.
A waiter approaches. “Mr. and Mrs. Kensington? Your private table is ready, if you’d like to follow me up to the terrace.”
I give Hannah and Savannah a little wave. “Enjoy your evening, ladies.”
“So I’m super romantic?” Crew teases as we follow the maître de through the restaurant.
“You have your moments,” I reply. “And it was brag about that or trade insults with your jealous ex.”
“Hannah isn’t my ex-anything.”
“Whatever.”
“It’s cute when you’re jealous, Red.” Crew leans in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Especially when you’re full of my cum.”
I suppress a shiver that has nothing to do with the fact the air conditioning is on full blast in here. The tuxedo-clad maître de keeps walking toward the elevator, completely unaware of the fact my husband’s mouth is the exact opposite of everything else in here: filthy.
The elevator’s silver doors part to reveal the rooftop. Gray stone covers the ground. Artfully placed trees and flowers interrupt the spaced tables. Twinkling lights illuminate the space. We’re the only people up here. Crew must have rented out the whole terrace.
“Wow,” I breathe.
“A server will be up shortly to take your orders. Enjoy your evening.” The man steps back into the elevator, leaving Crew and me standing alone up here. He walks over to the edge of the roof, overlooking the whole city. I follow.
“You like it?”
“I love it.” I glance over at him. “Since you accused me of being jealous, I’ve always wondered: what did you say to that guy in Proof? The night you came over to the booth, right before we were engaged?”
“Technically, we got engaged when we were sixteen.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“I told him you were mine,” Crew replies.
“That’s all you said to him?”
“Him? You don’t even remember the guy’s name, do you?”
“Stop changing the subject.”
“Do you?”
I think back to that night. Try to remember the guy who came over to my booth and talked to Sophie and Nadia. But all I remember about that night is Crew. How he looked. What he said. “No,” I admit. “I don’t.”
He grins, pleased. “I might have threatened Evan with a little bodily harm if he got handsy with you that night.”
The possessiveness in his voice elicits a contrary mixture of contentedness and annoyance. “I wasn’t yours. We weren’t even married then.”
Crew shrugs. “It felt like you were.”
I remember how pleased I was when he dismissed that redhead. I shouldn’t have cared who he screwed back then. But I did. “See? I knew you were romantic.”
“You said wasn’t.”
I raise a brow. “What?”
“You said, ‘I wasn’t yours.’ Does that mean you are now?”
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I am.”
In the past year, I’ve learned a lot. One of the things I’ve discovered about Crew is that his assurance means he is rarely without something to say. This is one of those rare moments. Where he gifts me with a sentimental smile that tells me he’s as much mine as I am his.
“Did you think we would be here the day we got married? Like this, I mean.” I gesture between us, as if love is a tangible connection you can see between two people. “Ever wonder what it would be like if you’d married someone else?”
“Do you?”
“I asked you first.”
He ignores me. “You know one thing about us that was always confusing? Why me? Up until my father told me I’d be CEO, it made some sense. But once he did, I always wondered…”
His musing is too pointed, too precise. “Your dad told you.”
“He mentioned you…requested me.”
I smile wryly. “Hanson Ellsworth doesn’t grant requests.”
“So…”
“So, it was more of a threat. I told him I’d marry you…or no one.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “Part of it was rebellion. Back then, everyone assumed Oliver would end up at the top. Asking Arthur to change the terms after they’d been set would be embarrassing for my father.”
“And the other part?”
“I wanted you.” I chew my bottom lip. “I wanted you,” I repeat.
The aftermath of that confession leaves me embarrassed.
“Come on.” I try to tug Crew toward the table. “We should look at the menu.”
He doesn’t budge. “Not yet. Wait.”
I look around the rooftop. “Wait for wha—”
Loud flashes of color light up the sky, cutting me off. I stare at the spectacular sight.
“We’re celebrating,” Crew tells me.
I realize, if anything, I was underselling his soft side earlier.
Money can buy a lot. Importance. Accolades. Relevance. Lavish vacations and expensive dinners and a dazzling display meant for two people in a city of millions.
Love is immune to currency. Money isn’t why there’s a soft half-smile on Crew’s face. Why there are butterflies in my stomach and a total certainty in my head that we’ll last.
Side by side, we watch fireworks explode over the Manhattan skyline, illuminating the city we call home. And there’s nothing fake about any of it.
