Trying to goad him into giving up a clue, I teased, “It’s not like you to be so mysterious.”
Those hazel eyes flared as his pupils dilated and his voice dropped an octave. “Oh, I can be very mysterious, Mrs. Scott.”
Oh, yes, he could.
The elevator doors opened, and Preston pressed the button to the 20thfloor. Up we went as I tried to figure out just what the surprise was. My mind was still spinning as the gold-plated doors slid open, and he pulled me down the hallway, stopping at the door with a placard that read Apt. 2003.
Hmm. After our few nights in Room 203 at Desire, I could have read more into it, but it was probably a coincidence. Right?
Pulling a key from his tuxedo pocket, he unlocked the door and opened it but stopped me when I tried to walk inside. There wasn’t time to ask why because he pulled me into his arms, carrying me across the threshold, whispering in my ear, “Welcome home, Princess.”
“Home?” I looked around in disbelief. We were standing in a wide-long entryway, but even from here, I could see gorgeous crown molding and stunning hardwood floors.
Placing me on my feet, he encouraged, “Look around. Let me know what you think.”
I’d already cried once today when we said our vows, and it was almost a sure bet I was about to gear up for round two. My heels clacked on the wood floors as the hallway opened into a massive living space furnished beautifully with a comfortable-looking leather couch and antique wooden accent tables. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased double doors leading out to a balcony overlooking Central Park. There was a decent-sized kitchen with a large island and stainless-steel appliances, a dining room set with a table that could seat up to ten people, and a powder room. Beyond the living spaces, I discovered a laundry room and two additional doors. The first opened to a master bedroom done in gold and cream, featuring a four-poster bed, two walk-in closets, and an ensuite bathroom.
“I can’t believe you did this,” I gushed at Preston.
Circling his arms around my waist from behind, he rested his chin on the top of my head. “The one-bedroom in SoHo wasn’t going to work long-term.”
“This is too much!” I protested.
Turning me in his arms so that I faced him, he countered, “Nothing is too much for you. You deserve the world, and I’m just the lucky bastard trying to give it to you.”
Looping my arms around his neck, I pulled him down for a long slow kiss, showing gratitude for his thoughtfulness. Pulling back slightly, I whispered, “Thank you.”
Breaking out of his embrace, I walked out of the master suite to the last remaining door, expecting to find a second bedroom. Turning the knob, I found it locked.
Frowning, I turned to Preston. “Why is this door locked?”
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a key on a long strand of black ribbon. Handing it to me, he said, “This is only for when you’re ready.”
“Ready for what?” I asked in confusion as I unlocked the door.
Turning the knob successfully this time, I pushed the door open and gasped. Inside was a mini replica of our room at Desire. Black silk sheets on a bed with a slatted headboard, a quilted bench seat at the foot of the bed, and an armchair to the side. But in addition to those, there were large pieces of equipment—most notably, a Saint Andrews Cross.
Preston had put together a playroom for us.
From behind me, I heard him softly say, “Like I said, only when you’re ready.Ifyou are ever ready. I don’t need this more than I need you.”
Turning, I looked at my husband. I learned in these past few months how truly selfless he was. He took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself. He put his life on hold, ready and willing to move anywhere in the world so that I could feel safe. He supported my career goals with enthusiasm, pushing me to be a better version of myself both in my personal and professional life.
The only drawback was that even now, many months later, he treated me as if I were made of glass. I was strong enough to admit that there was a short time after the incident when my own shadow was enough to spook me, but I was better now. I’d spent a lot of time in therapy, and I could recognize that I would probably never be able to forget what happened to me entirely, but I could move on and not have it impact every facet of my life.
I could sleep with the lights off now, and I wasn’t looking around corners everywhere I went, but Preston still handled me with kid gloves. He hadn’t tied me up once, and I knew why—he didn’t want to trigger me. While I could appreciate that, I was a big girl. I knew my limits and safewords.
Maybe he needed a reminder of who he married. I refused to let the events of one day shape the rest of my life. Today was the first day of the rest of our lives, and I intended to start it off right.
Raising my right arm, I grasped the zipper to my wedding dress under my armpit and pulled it down. The dress pooled around my feet, leaving me in a white lace corset with attached garters.
Preston sucked in a breath as he scanned my scantily clad form before I gleefully watched the transformation—his eyes hardening when he noticed the white lace panties that matched the set.
His tone was firm and commanding, sending a shiver down my spine as he demanded, “What are those?”
Well . . . Hello, Sir.
Shrugging, I countered, “What? I couldn’t very well go without panties when my sisters-in-law helped get me dressed. We’re close, but not that close.”
