Jasper Vale (The Edens)

Over the course of two hours, Eloise had shifted in her chair. Gone was her perfect posture aimed at her place setting. Now she was sitting sideways, one of her legs tucked under her rear while the other was draped across my lap. Inch by inch, she’d effectively blocked out my father, seated on her other side, to give me her undivided attention. She was close to crawling into my lap.

And the best damn part? I doubted she even realized she’d done it.

Through the first course, she’d faced her plate, eating and sipping her champagne, listening to the conversation at the table while everyone in the room had taken their seats.

When Mom and Dad had begun talking politics with the others at our table, Eloise had made her first shift. It had been just a little turn, her knee pressed tight against my own.

During the main course, she’d crossed her legs and her calf had brushed against my shin.

Through the toasts, she’d twisted further, her torso perpendicular to the back of the chair, her eyes locked on me instead of the head table.

After another flute of champagne, she’d tucked that leg into the seat while the other draped across my thighs.

My thumb traced circles on the inside of her knee as I listened to her chatter.

The Eloise who’d captivated me in Vegas, the woman who voiced whatever thought was in her head, had reappeared. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips pink. She was breathtaking. The most beautiful woman in the room—in any room.

“I wish we had an outdoor space for weddings at the hotel.” Her eyes shifted over my shoulder toward the archway and terraces at my back.

Darkness had fallen outside, the gardens now lit with twinkling lights. It was too noisy in the ballroom to hear the ocean waves, but tonight, we’d sleep with the balcony doors open to enjoy the sound.

“Maybe we could turn the roof into a garden,” she said. “I’m putting that on my wish list right above the fountain.”

“You want a fountain?” I asked.

“Yep. But not as much as I want a rooftop garden.”

I grinned, drowning in those sparkling blue eyes. If she wanted a rooftop garden, then she’d have a rooftop garden.

She tried to shift again, to move closer, but she was as close as she could get while staying in her own chair.

So I fixed the problem for her. With a quick lift beneath her ribs, I pulled her off her own seat and plopped her onto my lap.

She smiled, like she’d been waiting for me to do that all night.

One of the other table guests, a woman with spiked gray hair, shot us a sideways glance.

Eloise gave the woman a finger wave and a blinding smile. She might as well have flipped her off.

I fought a laugh, reaching for my champagne flute.

That woman was the only one to have paid us any attention since the cake had been cut. My parents were locked in conversation with another couple, and as much as Eloise had shifted, blocking out Dad, well . . . he’d done the same to her.

I doubted he’d done it intentionally either. He just didn’t care.

So much for my parents getting to know my wife.

It had gone exactly as I’d anticipated. There’d only been one shock to my system tonight—seeing Sam.

I’d expected to feel something. Anything. Pain from old wounds. Envy at seeing her with a new husband. Longing for what we’d once been.

Nothing. Not a damn thing. She might as well have been a stranger. It was . . .odd. Though not nearly as odd as the fact that I was actually enjoying this party.

Thanks solely to the angel in my arms.

“Are you drunk?” she asked.

“No.”

“I am.” She blew out a long breath. “Just a little bit.”

“Really,” I deadpanned. “I had no idea.”

She rolled her eyes.

I chuckled and kissed her cheek, then lifted my glass. “Want more champagne?”

“No, I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow. Can we do a helicopter tour?”

“Yes.”

“Or should we do a boat tour?”

“Whatever you want.”

“But what do you want?”

You. Just you. “Helicopter.”

“Okay, good.” She beamed. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

We were spending another day in Italy before we flew home on Monday. I regretted planning such a short trip now. Watching her soak in the sights, watching her stunning smile as she took it all in, was like seeing the world from a new pair of eyes.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the lead singer said into the microphone. The string quartet that had played through dinner had since packed up their instruments and left. In their place was a live band—three guitarists and a drummer.

I recognized them from a relatively famous band that toured around the DC area. They hadn’t made it big, but for the crowd I’d once run with, they were the popular band to have perform at your wedding.

The lead singer welcomed Sam and her husband to the floor for their first dance.

Every eye was on them as they spun around the floor.

I studied Sam, waiting for that familiar heartache and resentment to flood my veins. Instead, more nothing.

It should have felt different, seeing her again after all this time. How many years had I spent fixated on that woman? How many hours had I dwelled on the past? Countless. Every one of them pointless.

Something unlocked in my chest. Something that felt a lot like . . . freedom. Relief.

This wedding had been a test. A chance for me to see if I was still that man from a decade ago.

I wasn’t.

And I wasn’t the man Samantha thought she knew. Not anymore.

Done. I was done with Sam. It wouldn’t be hard to ignore that next phone call. My attention swung from the dance floor to my parents. I was done with them too.

Having loving, attentive parents hadn’t been in the cards I’d been dealt. Like seeing Sam, maybe that should have bothered me. But tonight, I just didn’t fucking care.

The only person in this room deserving of my affection was in a lavender dress.

“You okay?” Eloise whispered.

Yeah, I was okay. Better than. I kissed her forehead. “Yes.”

The first dance ended and the energy in the ballroom shifted as the lead singer welcomed others to the floor. The event staff came flooding through the doors, carrying replenished trays of cocktails and wineglasses. Others had snacks they’d likely be passing out until the party died.

My father stood from his chair, holding out a hand to help my mother to her feet. Then he escorted her to the dance floor, twirling her in his arms.

“Do they love each other?” Eloise asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

She scoffed. “Then that only makes it worse. I really, really hate them.”

I chuckled, kissing her forehead again. “You don’t have to hate them.”

“Too late.”

Fierce loyalty. A precious heart. My Eloise. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

She narrowed her eyes at mine. “Promise you’re okay?”

“Promise.”

Her hand lifted, her fingertips threading through the hair at my temples. “Don’t cut your hair until . . . later, okay?”

“Okay.”

Later. She was still expecting me to leave, but soon enough, she’d realize she could dictate all my trips to the barber. Hell, she could cut it herself if she wanted.

She propped her chin on my shoulder, her gaze drifting outside. “The rooftop garden has to have twinkle lights.”

“Agreed.”

I relaxed deeper into my chair, content to act as Eloise’s. Then I watched my parents dance for a few moments until a familiar gaze snared me from across the room.

Samantha stared at me from her seat at the head table. She held a glass of champagne in one hand. The other was in her husband’s.

That guy had been a prick in high school. Hell, we’d all been that way, hadn’t we? He’d been at the same parties. More often than not, he’d been the guy to bring the cocaine.

At the moment, he was leaned in close, talking to the bridesmaid at his side, one of Sam’s sorority sisters.

From the way they spoke, too close and too intimately for friends, I suspected that Sam had gotten everything she’d wanted: a rich husband who didn’t give a damn if she slept with someone else. He’d be partaking in that open relationship. Because before this trip was over, I’d bet my inheritance he’d be fucking that bridesmaid.

More relief washed over my shoulders. That used to be my life. That used to be my reality. Thank fuck, I’d escaped.

If not for Dan, maybe I would have stayed. If not for Foster, maybe I would have returned.

If not for Eloise, I wouldn’t have even known what I’d been missing.

“I have to pee.” She groaned, sitting straight. “But I don’t want to risk a bathroom run-in.”

“What’s a bathroom run-in?”

“You know, where I go to the bathroom and while I’m in the stall, these other women, probably your ex or her bridesmaids, come in and I overhear them saying something nasty about my dress or my hair.”

“What could anyone possibly say about your dress or your hair?” She was the most breathtaking woman in the room, more stunning than even the bride.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Girls are mean. But I also don’t want to bump into your ex at the sink so she can tell me while we’re washing our hands that you’ll never love anyone the way you loved her and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. It happened to my friend at junior prom. Drama with a capital d.”

The corner of my mouth turned up. “A bathroom run-in. Best to avoid those.”

“Exactly.”

That sensation I’d had at The Eloise before we’d left Montana hit me again. Those roots kept tugging. I’d thought they had something to do with Montana, with my growing connection to Quincy. But it had always been her.

“What?” She cocked her head to the side. “You’re looking at me funny. I’m drunk and talking too much, huh?”

“No, El. You’re perfect.” I shifted to dig out one of the key cards from my pocket. “We have a room at this hotel. No bathroom run-ins necessary.”

“Oh, yeah. Duh.” She giggled, then with a quick peck on the cheek, slid off my lap. “Be right back.”

Eloise stuck close to the edge of the room, passing the archways on her way to the doors. Her dress swished as her hips swayed.

A man checked out her ass as she passed. I clenched my jaw, about to stand and head upstairs with her, when someone touched my shoulder.

I didn’t need to turn to sense Samantha at my back.

Her hand lingered on my jacket, long enough to make my skin crawl, so I stood, keeping the chair between us.

“Hi, Sam.”

“Jasper.”

“Congratulations. This is a beautiful wedding.”

“Yes, it is.” She glanced to Eloise’s empty seat. “Where’s your wife? I was hoping to meet her tonight.”

I chuckled. Oh, yeah. There would have definitely been a bathroom run-in.

“What’s funny?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.” I waved it off.

“She’s very . . . beautiful.”

“She is. Inside and out,” I said. “Eloise just ran upstairs for something. She’ll be back.”

Sam’s gaze narrowed as she studied my face. “You look . . . different.”

“Happy,” I corrected.

There were only a few times when I could remember shocking Samantha. The most notable was when I’d told her I wanted a divorce. She’d been totally unprepared for me to take issue with us fucking other people.

But tonight, she looked arguably as surprised.

Maybe because she’d never made me this happy and was realizing how much our relationship had lacked. Well, that was her problem. With any luck, tonight would be the last time I saw Samantha.

“I’m going to go check on Eloise. Enjoy your celebration.”

Before she could say another word, I turned, following the same path Eloise had taken out of the ballroom.

My shoes clicked on the marble as I hustled to the elevator, stepping in with another gentleman on his way to the third floor. Then I strode down the carpeted hallway, pulling the other key from my pocket, glad I’d snagged both on the way out tonight.

Eloise was in the bathroom smoothing her hair, and when I appeared in the mirror, she gasped, slapping a hand to her heart. “You scared me. Warn a girl.”

“Sorry.” I closed the distance between us, spinning her from the mirror to haul her into my arms. Then I slammed my mouth onto hers.

She moaned as I slid my tongue inside, stealing that sweet taste. Then she put her hands on my chest, gently pulling away. “You’re going to ruin my makeup.”

“Can’t have that.” I picked her up at the waist, setting her on the counter.

The travel-sized plastic bottles of toiletries she’d lined up beside the sink scattered, two rolling to the floor as my hand skated up that sexy as fuck slit in her dress, pushing the fabric aside.

“Jas.” Her breath hitched as I stroked along the gusset of her lace panties.

“Shimmy out of these,” I ordered, tugging at the fabric.

She shifted from side to side as I pulled the panties down. Then she pulled the skirt of her gown away, until she was bared to me, her ass perched on the edge of the counter as she spread wide.

My cock throbbed, aching behind the zipper of my slacks. I freed myself, fisted the shaft and dragged the tip through her entrance, spreading that first pearl drop through her slit.

Eloise hummed, her head lolling to the side. Her legs spread wider as her hands came to my shoulders.

I hooked a hand under her knee, holding it high, stretching that toned leg until I felt resistance. Then I slid into her tight sheath with a single thrust.

“Yes,” she hissed. “I missed you.”

She’d had me three times last night and once this morning. But sex since we’d come here had held an edge. Her nerves. Mine.

They were gone now. All that was left was us.

I rocked us together, slowly, keeping that leg pinned, her knee pressed up toward her chest.

“Oh God.” She whimpered when I drove to the hilt.

“So fucking deep.” I looked down to where we were connected, a surge of lust spiking as her body stretched around mine. “Look at us, angel.”

Eloise dropped her gaze, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Then she met my gaze, her cheeks flushed.

Did she see how perfect we were together? Did she realize that it didn’t matter if I wore a ring? If she had my last name?

Eloise Eden was mine.

And I was hers.

Until the end.

Her makeup was flawless. But since she looked as beautiful with it as she did without, I crushed my lips to hers, my tongue delving inside as I moved. Faster and faster I pistoned my hips. When her thigh muscles trembled, I eased her leg down, letting it dangle off the counter like the other.

Then I gripped her by the hips, holding her tight, as the sound of our sex echoed off the bathroom walls.

Eloise tore her mouth away, panting for breath. Her hands fumbled with the hem of my tux shirt, hauling it up high enough so she could drag her palms up my abs. Then she slid her hands around my back, dipping them lower until she had my ass in her grip.

Her nails dug into my flesh, her fingertips pressing hard into my muscles. The bite only spurred me on.

“I love how you fuck me.” She clawed her nails harder.

“You’d better love it.” As far as I was concerned, my cock was the only one she’d be getting from here on out.

Her inner walls began to pulse, her limbs shaking. Her grip on my ass never let up, so neither did I.

This woman got everything I had—heart, body and soul.

“Jas.” She held me tighter.

“Come, El.”

That was all it took. One command and she shattered.

On a roar, I followed her over the edge, lost in this woman.

Lost in what we might become.

If she’d have me.

As the climax faded, we leaned on each other, our skin sticky where we were still connected, our breaths mingled as our hearts raced. Until slowly we pulled apart. I tucked myself into my boxers and ran a cloth under warm water to clean Eloise.

“You don’t need to do that,” she whispered.

“Let me do it anyway.” I kissed her cheek.

She twisted, taking in her face in the mirror. A giggle burst from her lips. “I look like I was just thoroughly fucked.”

I met her gaze in the glass.

This was my chance. A chance to tell her I wanted more. To stay in Montana. To see if we could make this fake marriage into something real. But the words clogged in my throat.

It would be better to wait until we were home, right? To talk about this after the wedding when we were home at the A-frame?

“Want to skip the rest of the party?” I asked.

“No way. I want more champagne, and those snacks they were carrying around looked yummy.”

I took her hand, helping her off the counter. Returning to that wedding was the last place on earth I wanted to be, but if she wanted a snack, I’d be her escort. “Then let’s get you some food.”

“And cake,” she said, smoothing down her dress. “I didn’t get cake. I need to test it and make sure it’s not as good as Lyla’s. Do you eat cake?”

“Sometimes.” I nuzzled my nose against her throat, drawing in that perfect scent. “But I’m going to eat something else for dessert later.”

My wife.