Chapter 23

TWENTY-THREE

If Lennon and I had a honeymoon, this is the closest we've come to it.

Over the past four weeks, since the morning I'd discovered his feather tattoo, Lennon and I have easily fallen into married life.

Unofficially revising our terms and conditions, we've slipped into our roles as husband and wife in more ways than in front of the public eye.

We spend all our nights tangled up in the sheets of our bed. I scream his name while he keeps one hand expertly around my heart. We fuck wherever possible, kicking Ray out of our apartment as soon as we make it to our front door. Every surface of the apartment is now marked with the memory of Lennon slipping his cock inside me or his mouth devouring me between my legs. And when he's asleep, I stare at the feather tattooed across his ribs, still wrapping my head around the fact he got it for me. Some nights, my eyes close, with his tattoo being the last thing I see, forcing myself to believe it's real.

For me, it's difficult to come to terms with making a seismic impact on someone's life in the matter of thirty minutes. But I mattered to Lennon that night. Enough for him to get a tattoo, permanently marking the memory on his body.

Although our relationship shifted the night he confessed about his nightmare, doubt and uneasiness still sits in the bottom of my stomach.

I'm waiting for the last string to snap or the ball to drop. I'm waiting for the moment I'll wake up and this will all have been a dream. Or Lennon will come home telling me he wants a divorce before we've even made it to the twelve-month deadline.

I know the reason I agreed to marry Lennon is still the elephant in the room, though. I see it in the way he looks at me across the dinner table, studying me and hoping I allow him a glimpse into my soul, searching for the answer. He hasn't outright asked me, but I can sometimes see it resting on the tip of his tongue. Pleading and begging for the relief of an answer.

Every few days, he'll drop a not-so-subtle hint about wondering why I agreed to marry him. It's fair for him to question my motives. Especially when he thought I'd hated him for not remembering our one-night stand. How or why would I agree to marry the asshole who couldn't remembering fucking me in the back of his car?

That's how Lennon thought I'd felt. But as with him, appearances are experts in presenting falsities instead of the truth. Reality effortlessly wears a mask.

He knows I didn't agree to marry him for the money, considering I come from a wealthy family as well. Maybe he thought I was marrying him to restore my reputation. But if that's his theory, he hasn't said as such.

Aside from the constant worry our bubble of marital bliss will suddenly pop, I'm also constantly concerned for my sister.

My stomach wobbles as I hold my phone in my hand, staring at our text thread.

I quickly type out another message, my pale pink nails clicking across my screen.

Me: Roe, I know you said you weren't feeling well, but you can't ignore me like this. I thought we set up a schedule for you to message me every day at a certain time letting me know you're okay.

I immediately regret my text coming across as harsh.

Me: We're treading unfamiliar waters, sis. I'm just worried about you.

My thumbs hover above my screen, indecision weighing on my mind to wait for Roe's response or simply cut to the chase and call her.

Roe's chemo treatments have been wearing her down the longer she takes them. I wanted to vomit when I read a post in one of the cancer support groups saying beating cancer is a savage, unforgiving race. A race to beat the disease with chemotherapy before the chemotherapy kills you.

A never-ending, vicious cycle.

Since Roe has been growing weaker over the course of her treatments, we came up with a system in order for her to check in with me. It helps knowing she has Steven to take care of her, but I'm still her sister.

I also don't know when her money is going to run out. Roe told me she could pay for the treatments up until the surgery, but I don't know if that's changed. The driving reason for me agreeing to marry Lennon was to make sure I didn't drain my account helping Roe pay for her treatments, but she still hasn't answered me on whether she needs me to help pay or not. I'm chewing on my thumbnail, willing my sister's name to pop up on my screen.

"We've got it."

I snap my head up as Frederick slaps a stack of paperwork two inches thick in front of me.

"We have what?" I ask, blinking away the nausea making a home in my stomach. I place my phone on the table beside the stack of papers and lean forward in my chair.

"Ryan Perrish has filed an official complaint. I've agreed to take up the case, and will be delivering it to the court this afternoon."

"That's great." I give him a small smile and sit back in my seat, picking my phone back up.

Frederick snaps his fingers gleefully and spins on his heel. He points to the bar I have set up in the far corner of my office. He pours himself a glass of vodka, knocking it back before refilling it again. Sucking on his teeth, he turns back around.

"I thought you'd be thrilled," he mutters, his grin melting from his round face. I love my uncle but sometimes I feel like my love for him has diminished over the years. Corporate greed has changed him. He isn't the same man I used to look up to when I was a kid.

"I am." I cross my arms.

"Huh." He pops an olive into his mouth, smacking his lips as he chews. "You should be. This is all because of your marriage to Lennon."

I lift my eyebrows and inhale a deep breath. "It still amazes me how one person in our family nearly ruined us, and now, because I simply married someone, it's as if Kellan's misdeeds and crimes have been forgiven."

"His misdeeds and crimes aren't forgotten, Laurel." He schools his face. "No one has forgotten what he's done. He's serving his ten years, and he will have paid for his crimes. I've forgiven him. Perhaps you should consider doing the same in the future, and maybe you will in your own time."

Venom and poison sit at the tip of my tongue. Frederick is playing both sides of the coin. Devil's advocate. But there's a major difference between me and Fred. Kellan isn't Fred's brother, and Kellan didn't betray him as deeply as he did both me and Roe.

Growing up, my brother was always the first to act without asking permission. He never felt the need. Being the eldest child and only boy went straight to his head. He'd used it as ammunition to gain access to everyone and everything for his own benefit. Aside from the drugs, Kellan is a lot like Lennon's father. The kind of man who takes and takes. The kind of man who sinks his claws in so deep, feeding themselves on everyone they love like a parasite until there's nothing left.

"Yes." Frederick sips on his drink. "He knows where he stands with our family, considering the last time I spoke with him on the phone."

"You still talk to him?" My jaw drops. I shouldn't be shocked. Frederick was always closer to Kellan than he was to either me or Roe. But I am. I snap my mouth shut and stare at my uncle, wide eyed. Kellan not only stole my trust and thousands of dollars through the finance business he was running, he also siphoned money from Frederick's accounts.

Kellan had interned for Fred during college and was given access to all of Frederick's bank accounts linked to the firm. Stealing money from the firm was rolled into only one of the many charges Kellan was convicted of.

"Of course, I do." Frederick sets his glass down on the bar and snaps the lapels of his suit, straightening them. He smooths his hands over the silky fabric. "You should, too. He's still your brother."

I shoot him a sharp glare. "Just because he's my brother doesn't mean I should forgive him for what he did. He took everything from me, Fred."

I swallow the nausea that comes with thinking about the inheritance Kellan stole from me. The inheritance I could have used to help Roe.

"I'm not saying you should forgive him," he argues, narrowing his eyes. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs before looking back at me. "But one day, he will get out of prison, and what will happen to him?"

I grind my molars. "I don't give a shit what happens to him."

Fred clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth in disapproval. "This is why I avoid talking about Kellan with you, Laurel. You can't see past your anger."

"I don't think I need to," I grind out, curling my fingers. My nails cut into my palms. "My life isn't unfulfilled because my brother is no longer in it."

Fred swipes his hand across his mouth in thought. "Considering what our family has been through, I just hope you don't regret cutting him out of your life."

"He's the one who cut himself out. Not me," I remind my uncle. He's too forgiving for someone who doesn't deserve it.

"He told me he still cares for you," Fred says in a noticeably quieter voice. "He asks if I can convince you to talk to him. He wants to attempt to rebuild your relationship."

This time I really do feel fucking nauseous.

I roll my eyes. "I doubt he wants to rebuild a relationship with me out of the goodness of his heart, Fred. Kellan always wants something. His love isn't free."

I chew on the inside of my cheek and uncurl my fingers. I look down and run my finger over the half-moon indents I've left on the skin of my palm.

My breath catches in my throat as realization dawns on me. I snap my head up. "Did you tell Kellan I got married?"

Fred pauses, allowing the silence to fall between us. Any seconds that pass after the last word falls from my mouth already confirm the answer I know to be true.

My uncle stuffs his hands into his pockets, already knowing how I'll receive his answer. "I did. I figured he had the right to know."

"Why?" I ask, trying not to raise my voice. My relationship with Fred has always been on the rocks. I've always wondered why I've put up with his bullshit for as long as I have. Perhaps it's fear of the unknown. Even before I graduated, I became a junior attorney at this firm. But perhaps it's complacency. Emotion constricts my throat, and I swallow around my anger.

"I told you," Fred defends. "He's your brother, and I thought he had a right to know."

"That wasn't your decision to make, Fred." I scoff. "It also wasn't your news to share." Now I understand where Roe is coming from. Some secrets aren't meant to be told by others. We have a right to decide when and how people find out our darkest truths.

Fred waves his hand flippantly. "He'd already seen it on the news, anyway. The New England region talked about your wedding for a solid week."

I catch my breath, swallowing my anger. Fred has a point. Every news station and newspaper column in the region was covering our wedding. But it still doesn't negate the fact Fred felt the need to discuss it with Kellan, knowing where my feelings stand.

"Still. . ." I grit. "I would appreciate it if you wouldn't talk to Kellan about me in your little phone calls. I'll decide when and if I ever choose to speak to him again."

I don't allow my brother to take up too much space inside my head. He doesn't deserve it. The only thing that comes out of thinking about Kellan is a massive headache and anger that won't ever fade.

"Mrs. Harding?" my assistant, Trey, says through the intercom on my desk.

"Yes, Trey?" I ask, peering up at my uncle, thankful for the interruption.

"Your husband is here to see you. He says you were supposed to meet him in his office for lunch."

"Right." I clear my throat. "Send him in, please."

"Of course."

Frederick waddles over to my desk and points his finger to Ryan Perrish's complaint. "I've made this copy for you to read over. I want you on this case as well."

"Okay." I nod, thankful Frederick is no longer so desperate for money that he's picking up cases that have no merit. At least Ryan's case is legitimate. Or so I hear.

Apparently, I'll find out when I read through the two-inch file sitting on my desk.

Lennon knocks on the door to my office before peeking his head around the large oak. He's wearing his signature black suit today, but this time, he's paired it with a dark gray tie instead of his usual black.

I smile the instant I see him, the worry for my sister slightly subsiding. At least enough to where the sight of Lennon makes my body hum with excitement.

"Good morning, Mr. Harding," Frederick greets Lennon, holding out his hand.

Lennon returns the gesture. "I told you, Frederick. You can call me Lennon. Please."

"Sure, Lennon. Bad habit since I never addressed your father so casually, but I guess it's different now that you're married to my niece." Frederick sighs, patting his hand against his stomach. "Anyway, I was just finishing up here with Laurel." He swings his gaze in my direction. "Let me know when you've read through that complaint. I want you on this case with me."

"Okay." I push out from my desk and move around to the front of it, standing beside Lennon. He's several feet away, but his scent immediately surrounds me.

Frederick gives us each a nod before stuffing his hands inside his pockets and sauntering out of my office.

"Everything okay?" Lennon asks. I snap my head to the left, Roe's silence returning to the forefront of my brain. Like a magnet, I'm drawn to my phone. Did I miss her text while I was busy talking to Frederick? She might have messaged me when Lennon knocked on the door.

"I'm fine." I wave him off.

He gives me a look that tells me he knows when I say I'm fine that I'm anything but fine. The knot in my stomach returns when his eyes meet mine. I feel exposed, as if my eyes are windows he's peering through. I'm open and vulnerable, with Roe's secret laid out for him to see.

I want to walk away, only to get the weight of his concern for me away from my hammering heart. He stops me before I have the chance, gently wrapping his fingers around my wrist.

"Hey." He gently tugs me toward him, pulling me to his chest. "You would tell me if something was wrong, right?"

I swallow. I want to tell him, but how do I tell him a secret that isn't mine to share? Part of me thinks it isn't fair for Roe to ask me to keep her diagnosis a secret. But then another part of me doesn't think it's fair for me to judge whether her request is fair or not.

If I did, it would make me a hypocrite when I'd gotten angry with Fred for doing the very same.

"I would." My lie stings on the tip of my tongue. I want to spit it out, the bitter after taste only adding to my nausea. I've allowed Lennon into my life and into my heart so easily these past few weeks, I feel like I've been cut open and studied. My mind flickers with the thought that our contractual marriage was easier before we blurred the lines.

I immediately regret the thought when Lennon places his thumb against my bottom lip.

"Are you sure?" he whispers, a deepness woven into it.

His question is a jolt of electricity straight to my heart. He's doing it again. The underlying tone of his question insinuates him wanting answers. Answers I can't give him. I inhale a shaky breath and close my eyes, giving him a resolving nod.

"Yeah," I reassure him, waving him off again. "Frederick just brought up my brother, and I hate talking about him."

I'm not completely lying.

"Oh, what did he say?" Lennon asks, raising his eyebrows. "He's still in prison, right?"

"He is." I sigh, the anger from my conversation with Fred still simmering under my red-hot skin.

Lennon slowly closes the gap between us. "Your uncle may have left your office, Laurel, but the conversation hasn't. Your gorgeous face betrays you."

Despite all the frustration and secrets knotted around my heart like barbed wire, I melt with Lennon's words.

"I told you before, I haven't spoken to my brother since his sentencing." My husband nods, patiently listening. I quickly trace my tongue across my lips, twisting my fingers. "Well, Fred still talks to him. Apparently. And he told Kellan about us getting married."

"I'm sorry." He places his hand on my arm and pulls me forward as my bare feet stumble across the floor to keep me from falling off balance.

"I can't be too angry with him," I whisper, my eyes falling to his mouth. "News of our wedding was plastered on every magazine and newspaper. I guess he was bound to find out one way or another."

"Your brother can be angry, but there isn't much he can do from prison, right?"

"You're right." I nod in agreement. "I just don't want my brother to know anything about my life. He lost the right when he stole everything from me and my family."

"He did," Lennon agrees, tugging on me again. His hand wraps around the back of my neck, pulling me to him. He kisses me. His mouth is warm, and his lips taste like his peppermint toothpaste.

I pull away from him when my heart feels like it's going to jump out of my chest. I seriously want to drop the conversation of my brother. I back away from Lennon and turn to walk around my desk.

My eyes dart to my phone, my worry for Roe replacing the anger with Kellan. What a dramatic swing of emotions I'm going through today.

"I'm sorry I didn't go up to your office when I was supposed to," I quickly mutter over my shoulder, changing the subject and leaving him where he's standing. "I got hung up on a call with a client." It isn't a total lie. I honestly lost track of time, my concern for Roe distracting me. I move back around my desk and quickly press the button on the side of my phone. The white bar displaying Roe's name and her tiny message of: Slept late. Just woke up, sits in the middle of my screen. My shoulders visibly relax with a sigh, and I drop my phone back on my desk. I fish my stilettos out from under my desk with my bare toes and sit in my chair. I bend down, sliding the first foot in.

"What are you doing?" Lennon's deep voice booms beside me.

I look up. My face is in line with the zipper of his black slacks. I swallow, my mind immediately going to what's hidden underneath and how good it feels to have it driven into me. He's standing directly beside me with his hands inside said slacks. His blue eyes are piercing as they stare down at me.

"I'm putting on my shoes so we can go to lunch," I explain, reaching for the other one.

His eyes darken as he lifts his leg and taps the shoe out of my hand with the tip of his foot. It falls to the floor with a clunk.

"It's ten in the morning, Mrs. Harding."

"It is?" I ask, clicking the button on the side of my phone again, lighting it up. He's right. It is only ten o' clock. I didn't bother looking at the time, only at the message from Roe.

I look back up at Lennon. "But you told Trey I missed meeting you in your office for lunch."

"I might have lied a little." He scrunches his perfect nose.

"Don't you think Trey might find a ten-a.m. lunch suspicious?" I ask, giggling. "He knows I usually don't eat until after noon."

"Huh," he says, twisting his tongue in his mouth. "Do you always eat after noon or are you open to an early lunch?"

My heart races, and my veins pump with liquid heat. Lennon's doing it again. Playing the perfect distraction. The conversation with Fred has finally left my office. My concern for Roe has now faded since she's texted me. My only focus now is Lennon.

But over these past few weeks, I'm learning Lennon is more than just a distraction. My feelings for him aren't simply physical. I think it's a fact I've always known. Deep down in the places of my soul I choose to keep buried. Beneath all the feelings of being used by others and feeling unappreciated and undervalued in the corporate world. There's a part of me that's known Lennon never was a simple one-night stand. He also isn't only my husband on paper. He's more. Much, much more.

I shrug, sitting back in my chair. I lift my hands and unbutton the rest of my blouse. When I walked in here this morning, I shrugged off my black suit jacket and undid the first three buttons of my dark blue silk blouse. Loosening the rest of the buttons, I slide out of my shirt, sitting in front of Lennon in only my black mini skirt and matching black lace, unlined bra. The sheer fabric leaves nothing to the imagination of what's underneath. My hardened nipples are tiny hard as stone peaks under the black mesh.

"I'm open to an early lunch."

Lennon snarls, the corner of his mouth curling into a delicious, satisfied grin.

"Good." He growls. "Then, on your knees, sweet nothings."

I do as he says and bend to my knees in front of him. Looking up at him with hooded eyes, I unbuckle his black belt, unbutton his black pants, and free him from both those and his boxer briefs. I slide them down his legs, freeing his fully erect and swollen cock.

My nails trail up his legs as I stare up at him. He hooks two fingers under my chin, feathering them along my skin.

My heart's still racing, and my skin flashes with heat. I already want to feel him inside me, but I want to do this for Lennon more. Wrapping my fingers around his length, I pull him toward me. I swipe my tongue across my lips and open my mouth. My lips wrap around his mushroomed tip, sucking before sliding him farther in.

He grunts the deeper I take him, letting out one more once he hits the back of my throat.

"That's it." He hisses. "That's it, sweet nothings. I don't think there's anything better than seeing you on your knees for me, ready and willing to suck on my cock."

I look up at him, locking my eyes to his. He reaches down and places his hand on top of my head, guiding me. He pulls himself out, then back in, allowing us to fall into a rhythm. I suck in my cheeks and pucker my lips around his length, moaning when I place both my hands on the back of his thighs, pulling him impossibly deeper. It seems to spark something inside him. He begins moving faster, slamming himself into the back of my throat with every thrust.

"Fuck. I'm coming." His hand massages my hair, creating a tangled mess.

He slams into my throat one more time before he suddenly stops moving. His cock pulsates as warm cum hits the back of my throat, and I swallow.

When he's finished, he pulls out of my mouth and hooks his fingers under my chin again, urging me to stand.

He smiles as he catches his breath. He kisses my swollen mouth before quickly turning me around. Placing his hand on the small of my back, he bends me over my desk. I place my hands on either side of me, above my head and press my cheek to the cool wood.

Gripping onto my skirt, he lifts it up over my full bare cheeks.

"I stand corrected," he drawls, running both hands over my cheeks. I feel his chest above my back when he leans forward, bringing his mouth to my ear. "There is something better than you on your knees in front of me. It's you bare assed over your desk with your beautiful face staring up at me."

I gasp and attempt to grip onto my desk when he rams himself into me. I'm soaking wet, making it easy for Lennon to drive himself down to the base. I stand on my bare toes when he pauses, keeping his hand pressed to the small of my back. I moan, resting my forehead on the desk, attempting to catch my breath. But everything inside me is fully aware of Lennon's cock buried between my legs.

"Is this what you like?" he asks.

"Yes," I cry as he pulls out and drives into me again.

"Don't worry, sweet nothings." His velvety voice slides over me like his hand drawing down the length of my back. "I'll take care of you."

And when he slides his hand along my spine until he's reached my tailbone, I know there's deeper meaning to what he says.

I'll take care of you .

My heart is too erratic, and my body is too focused on Lennon behind me to make out the invisible circles he draws on my back. It's quick, and I try to memorize the shapes he makes. It's almost as if he's a spy leaving me to decipher a secret code in invisible ink. Or begging for me to open the window he's been eager to peek through. The one to my soul that will finally let him all the way in.

I hold my breath when he places both hands on my hips and thrusts back in and out of me. He's slow at first, but with every thrust, he picks up the pace until my walls tighten around him. I stand on my toes as my orgasm rips through me. I dig my fingertips into the wood, hoping they'll anchor me to my desk, but they don't.

Lennon places his hand over my mouth, muffling the scream climbing its way out up my throat. My legs quiver and my blood tingles as my orgasm rocks through my body.

When I'm finished, Lennon leans forward and kisses the spot on my back where he ghosted his fingers in secret code. After he pulls himself out of me and straightens my skirt, I stand, sliding my arms back into my shirt. My stomach grumbles loudly, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

"Hunger not fully satisfied?" he teases.

"This is a different kind of hunger." I smile.

"Well, the rest of my day is clear, so whatever you want to do, we can do it." He casually shrugs his shoulders.

I peer at him with raised eyebrows. "Your entire day is cleared?"

"Yes." He nods once. "I couldn't wait until we got home to see you, much less wait until lunch, so I had Olivia clear my entire schedule."

This time, I'm certain my heart bursts.

I step closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I stand on my bare toes again as my stomach grumbles once more. "What did I do to earn such special treatment?"

"You married me." Lennon's words fall effortlessly from his mouth as if he's simply stating a fact, which he is. But there's more to it. More than if he had said those same words to me over a month ago when he proposed.

An adequate response is lost on me when he reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear.

"But we're having dinner with Micah and a friend of his tonight," he tells me.

"Oh, we are, are we?" I pop an eyebrow, teasing.

"We are."

I wrap his tie around my hand, pulling him down to me. His eyes darken, falling to my mouth. "I thought you said you cleared your schedule for today."

"I did." He growls. "But this is a family dinner, and I owe my brother a favor."

"Well." I smirk, butterflies filling my stomach at Lennon calling this a family dinner. "Who would I be if I were to deny you from delivering on a promise?"