Recklessly Bound

Chapter Twenty Nine

Inside lies a beautifully handcrafted pen that I had it made especially for him. The exterior is a dark navy barrel brimmed in gold metal clipper and tip. On the cap, the big, bold letters read "Ethan Kingstone."

With careful hands, Ethan removes the pen from the box and examines it closely under the light. He shakes his head in amazement.

"This is beautiful."

"I thought you need something to do business with now that you'll be focusing on running the business more than acting. And I thought, what better way to celebrate that with a pen. But not just any pen. Remove the bottom cap."

He does as I ask.

"A sharpie," he chuckles.

"To sign autographs with." I grin with joy seeing his reaction.

When I ordered the pen, I had a self-commission task. But as I had time to think about it while waiting for it, I realize how ridiculous the notion was. What would a man, as wealthy as he is, do with a pen?

"Thank you. This is truly amazing."

Out of the blue, he leans forward and wraps his arms around me in the most genuine hug. It's not a passionate hug, nor one coming after reaching the height of pleasure. It's a hug that is full of emotions and endearment. The hug that I've been missing in the past few years.

"This is the best gift."

"Oh, come on, I know that's not true," I chuckle, backing out of his embrace and stare down at my hands.

"No, it is. I don't get thoughtful gifts usually. Not since I've turned eighteen." He brushes one fallen strand of hair behind my ear.

"Well, I'm glad you have to give you thoughtful gifts now," I whisper with subtle pride and playful snicker in my voice.

Absently, Ethan puts the pen back in its box without looking and brings me down to meet his lips. Fumbling in the corner of my eye, I turn off the lamp, and we lie down to go to sleep. Of course, not before having another round of pleasure.

In the morning, everyone makes their way downstairs dressed in beautiful dresses. It's too early in the morning to start the Christmas day celebration, but I guess it's never too early for people to have an excuse to wear high heels and hold a glass of wine instead of a coffee cup. I wake up earlier than Ethan, so silently, I grabbed my stuff and walked out to the bathroom to get ready.

By the time I make my way to the breakfast buffet, Ethan walks down the stairs, garbed in a dark gray sweater that seems too tight in all the right places. His pants make an excellent display of well-toned muscles of his calf and thighs. And the unmistakable bulge in the front—which seems to grow bigger the closer he walks to me.

I distract myself by sipping my coffee, but the proximity of his body makes the heat of desire radiating from him more distracting.

"Merry Christmas, wife," he whispers closely as he stands next to me and fills his plate.

With full plates, everyone, who evidently had woken up earlier than us, make their way out of the kitchen to the dining tables. Mary does all the catering on Christmas day. The idea of having a traditional self-service buffet like nineteen century England was hers to eliminate the need for staff on Christmas.

Quickly, I follow them to the dining table without waiting for Ethan. I figured I want to be on the naughty list this Christmas. Why not tease him a bit?

After breakfast, we pour into the living room, some carrying their hot drinks, others deciding it's time to start a party with a bit of alcohol. Everyone takes a seat. I could have sworn there were more chairs and seats last night. We all sat down perfectly. Then how come there is only one left for Ethan and me.