My Wedding Was a Fake, So I Claimed My Fortune and a Billionaire novel · Chapter 23 of 24

Chapter 23: Wedding Night

The front door of the house on Jones Street closed behind us, and Birdie's boxes stood in the hall.

Davis's coat, his shoes, his golf clubs, his framed college degree.

A neat label on every one, in Birdie's loud capitals: *DONATE OR BURN*.

I stepped over them in my cream suit.

I did not look back.

"Carry me," I said.

"Over the threshold."

"You're a little late. We're already in."

"Then up the stairs."

He lifted me in his arms.

I put my arms around his neck.

He climbed the wide staircase slowly, step after step, with the portraits of my family sliding by and his eyes fixed on mine.

Halfway up he stopped.

"Put me down," I said.

He set me on the stair, on the third step from the landing, with my back against the carved rail.

He knelt below me.

"Husband," I said, tasting it.

"Wife."

"Say what you're going to do."

"I'm going to undress you," he said, "very slowly, as if you were a gift. And then I'm going to spend the whole night finding out every single thing that makes you shake."

"Do it."

He took off my jacket.

He unfastened my blouse, one pearl button at a time, and laid it over the rail.

He kissed the hollow of my throat.

He kissed the swell of each breast above the lace.

He unhooked the bra with one finger and took it away, and the air touched my skin.

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