Cruz takes my hand, lifting my chin to look into his eyes. “Be my wife. Be my forever.”
“Yes.”
He scoops me up and twirls me around, my legs flying out behind me. Then sets me down and kisses the hell out of me, before announcing, “She said yes! Wedding is tomorrow at four p.m. at the courthouse, followed by dinner at Havana Havana, and dancing at the new nightclub Nate and Eric just bought.”
“Wait, what?” I ask, dumbfounded. Did he just plan an entire wedding without me?
“If I waited for you to do it, we’d never get married. Stop frowning. All you have to do is put on the dress I bought you and show up. That’s it.”
Huh. That does sound kind of perfect.
My apartment is like a beehive, all abuzz, with people dashing everywhere. Cruz spent the night in one of the empty apartments, wishing to stick to the tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding. The girls get ready in the room with me. Since it’s a courthouse wedding, we’re not doing bridesmaids and groomsmen, although I told them they’re all honorary ones.
Bride. Me. I shake my head, the hairdresser frowning at me through the mirror as she tugs on a lock. I never thought I’d see the day when I would get married. It wasn’t in the cards; not once did I believe I would want this.
Cruz knows me better than I know myself. He’s made sure it’s the day I would want, and I love him even more for it.
The dress lies on the bed, and instead of being some frilly white monstrosity, it’s a simple black, sleeveless, A-line dress that stops just above my knees. Beside it is a shoebox, with black ankle boots etched with a cream lace design over it. They’re stunning.
Even the hairdresser and make-up artist have been told what to do, with no input from me desired or even needed. The hairdresser sweeps my hair up into a half ponytail, inserting a black jeweled clip to hold it up, leaving the rest of my hair to tumble down my back in a riot of curls. The make-up artist keeps things simple, giving me the natural look I prefer. A hint of blush, a swipe of mascara, and the barest touch of lip gloss complete the look.
I do a twirl in front of the mirror. Damn, I look good. And I fucking hate dresses.
Someone’s phone alarm goes off, reminding us it’s time to go—the limo waits for us downstairs. Susannah grabs my hand, tears misting her eyes. “Are you ready?”
Blowing out a deep breath, I incline my head. Arm in arm, we walk out the door together, toward my future.
Dutch, Two Years Later
Cruz’s hands skate up my sides, grabbing on to my hips as he thrusts upward, impaling me on his impressive cock. I throw my head back, a deep moan pulling from me as he stretches me wide to take him.
“Fuck,mi alma,” Cruz groans, and I tilt my back down to meet his eyes. They are glazed with lust, and my lips curl into a smile even as my own hood from pleasure. I pick up speed, circling my hips, Cruz thrusting from below.
“God, I love when you’re inside me,” I pant out, and Cruz growls.
“God has nothing to do with it.”
“My bad.”
“Don’t let it happen again.”
I chuckle, then shriek when Cruz flips me over and makes me pay for my mistake. He stares into my eyes as he pounds into me, refusing to let me look away. Even after all this time, they’re still there; love, devotion, obsession.
He commands me to come, then pinches my clit and I do, hard, screaming his name as he bites down on the base of my neck, marking me as his.
Always his.
We’re still trying to catch our breaths when both our phones go off with an alert for a new job. I groan, give Cruz a kiss on his bicep, then hurry into the bathroom to clean up.
After Ryan created our elite group, he turned the floor below us into our command center. Each of us has an office and for Trey, Eric, and Jase, the most sophisticated computer technology available. We now even have two of our very own satellites floating up in orbit.
We named them Retribution and Vengeance Mine.
After Cruz and I clean up and dress, we make our way downstairs to our conference room. The others are already seated, and Tessa winks at me knowingly.
I refuse to blush, I refuse to—oh, fuck off.
“Okay, so what’s the job?” I ask as I sit down next to Rebecca.
