Brothers of Paradise Series

“Mmm,” he says softly. “If it’s by you, I think I’ll manage, somehow.”

Epilogue

One month later

Faye rolls away from me in bed. “We need to get going.”

She’s fast, but I’m faster. I tug her back against my chest, smiling as she laughs in protest. “We’re going to be late!”

“So?”

She struggles against me, but there’s no escape, and I tell her that. She rolls her eyes at me. “You used to be so punctual. What’s happened?”

“You’re a bad influence.” I push back her silken hair and rest my face in her neck. She smells as wonderful she always does-warm skin, soap, and something unmistakably hers.

Faye turns in my arms. We’re back in Paradise Shores for the weekend, borrowing my sister’s seaside cottage, and the sunlight streaming in through the window paints her skin a thousand different shades of beautiful.

“A bad influence, huh?”

“Absolutely terrible.” I run a hand down her waist, her hip, finally gripping her butt. “I took a two-hour lunch break twice this week, and I blame you entirely.”

Faye’s laughter is the best sound in the world. She wiggles closer in the bed, running her nails over my back in the way she knows I love. “You weren’t exactly innocent either, mister. Do I have to remind you that I’m still trying to make a good impression on my boss?”

Her naked body against mine is making it hard to think-she feels too good-but I make a heroic effort. “Rykers is obsessed with you.”

“No,” she corrects, “you are. She’s still undecided.”

I snort. “Don’t undersell yourself.”

“I’m not, I’m just not biased. Now come on. We’re going to be late, and I really want your family to like me.”

“They already do. Probably more than they like me.”

She laughs, and I revel in the sound again. With her, I feel amusing in a way I’ve never felt before. “Patently untrue. You’re fishing for compliments and I won’t give you any. Now come on, you vain man. I need a shower, and-”

“So do I.”

“-you can’t join me, or we’ll never get out of here. Put on the coffee machine in the meantime?”

I lean back and watch her slide out of bed. Rising from the sheets, all of her beautiful curves on display, she’s gorgeous. Tan skin and black hair that kisses her low back. Best of all, her body fits against mine perfectly, like they’re companion pieces.

“Do I ever tell you that you’re beautiful?”

Faye walks toward the bathroom, a small smile on her face. For all of her confidence and ambition, I know she still likes to hear this, and I love giving it to her.

“Sometimes,” she says.

“Only sometimes? I’ll have to remedy that.”

She pauses by the door to the bathroom, facing me, still completely naked. I let my eyes roam lasciviously over her figure. “Well, while you shower, I’ll be writing an ode to your beauty.”

She grins. “An ode?”

“Yes. I can go Shakespearean, but knowing how you react to me talking dirty, I might go that route instead.”

Faye rolls her eyes-she hasn’t stopped doing that-but color rises in her cheeks. Somehow, she’s still affected by my words. It’s beyond fun to tease her about… and I exploit it regularly in bed. One dirty word about the act itself and her cheeks go scarlet.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh?” I toss the cover back so she can see just what the sight of her naked body is doing to me. “You’re so gorgeous, and I want you so much. All the time. All I want is to feel you beneath me, to spread your legs, and fuck your tight pussy until-”

Faye shuts the bathroom door with a bang, and I burst into laughter. She must have heard me, because a second later, her voice calls through the door. “Save it for later!”

I brew coffee as she showers and get dressed. It’s the first time she’s meeting my family since the wedding weekend, but they’d been completely smitten with her-she has no need to be nervous. Besides, things have been good between us since we got back together. Well, good is perhaps somewhat of an understatement. Fucking fantastic is a much better description.

It was made better by the fact that we work next door to one another. Rykers has the office space next to Marchand’s, so Faye and I spent most evenings together, either at mine or hers. Mine was closer to work.

I smile into my coffee, thinking of the last time she’d spent the night. I’d casually suggested she get some stuff to keep at mine-a blow-dryer, her shampoo and conditioner, a drawer of clean underwear-to make the mornings before work easier. She’d been floored, and then kissed me in a way that made it clear the suggestion had been very, very appreciated.

We’ve taken things slow, but there is no doubt in my mind where this is heading, if I don’t accidentally screw things up again. I couldn’t handle another bout of separation between us. And never before had I met someone who understood, even appreciated, the person I am at work. Building is a part of me, just like it is for Faye.

She emerges fifteen minutes later, hair loose and a navy dress hugging her figure. She looks like a million bucks.NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

“Quit staring, Marchand. We have a brunch to attend.”

“When did you get so bossy?” I reach for her, wanting her hand in mine again. “Don’t ever stop.”

“When you stopped,” she says, grabbing her handbag. “Now, remind me-what terms are you and your father on at the moment?”

My good mood doesn’t vanish, but it sours slightly. “Speaking terms, of course. But the last time was a few weeks ago. He’s still upset about Chicago.”

She squeezes my hand. “His loss. You made the right call.”

“I know.” And I do, but it’s nice to hear her say it-especially because she genuinely thinks it, too. It’s coming from a place of both support and honesty. She’s as knowledgeable about this business as me or my father and understands these decisions.

We walk over to my parents’ house. Faye asks my opinion on one of the projects she’s working on, and we’re deep into a discussion of structural materials when we arrive at the end of Ocean Drive.

Lily and Hayden are waiting for us on the porch, Parker sprawled in a sun chair nearby, a pair of sunglasses on his face. He looks half-dead. I shoot a look at Lily, and she nods in confirmation. He’s hungover.

Stopping by my brother, I reach down and yank the sunglasses off. He sputters in surprise. “Hey!”

“Late night last night?”

He puts a hand to his temple. “Yes. And don’t speak so loudly, Jesus, Henry.”

“Are you twenty-nine, or nineteen?”

Lily plucks the sunglasses out of my hand and puts them back on Parker’s face. “Don’t answer that, but don’t let Mom see, either. Or Dad.”