Noel and I were married 3 months ago, on a wonderfully crisp and sunny Saturday in November. My family and his to some extent disapproved of our match. Me being 26 and unsure of my purpose or position in this world and him being 50 and extremely successful and wealthy. I did indeed marry for love, not grandeur or money... Sometimes the best things are the most unexpected. Never could I have imagined a work call would lead to marriage. But still. He was mine, and I his. And he gave me everything I wanted.
And Noel? He was the happiest he'd ever been.
It was our first Valentine's Day as husband and wife, but I didn't expect anything different from him. He wasn't the type for flowers and chocolates, and I didn't want them anyway. What I wanted was him—his rough hands on my skin, his voice in my ear, his sharp wit cutting through the haze of desire that always seemed to settle between us.
So when I woke up that morning, tangled in the sheets, the space beside me empty but still warm, I knew he was already up to something. Noel never woke up early unless he had a reason.
I stretched, the cool morning air brushing over my bare skin, and pulled on one of his shirts before padding out into the flat. The scent of coffee lingered in the air, but there was no sign of him.
"Noel?" My voice was rough with sleep, but I didn't care.
Nothing.
I rolled my eyes, heading toward the kitchen, but before I could step inside, I felt him behind me—his hands sliding around my waist, his breath hot against my neck.
"Happy Valentine's, Mrs. Gallagher," he murmured, lips grazing my skin.
A slow shiver ran down my spine. "Thought you didn't do Valentine's."
"I don't." His fingers traced lazy circles along my hip. "But I do you."
I smirked, turning in his arms to face him. He looked good—barefoot, jeans slung low on his hips, hair still messy from sleep. His dark eyes flickered over me, taking in the fact that I was wearing his shirt and nothing else.
"Is that my shirt?" he asked, voice lower now.
I shrugged. "It was the closest thing to the bed."
Noel hummed, his fingers slipping beneath the hem, brushing against bare skin. "That so?"
"Mmhm."
His grip tightened, pulling me flush against him. "Should've stayed in bed, then. Would've given you something else to wear."
Heat coiled low in my stomach, but I kept my expression indifferent. "Oh? And what would that be?"
Noel smirked, tilting my chin up with one finger. "Nothing at all."
Before I could fire back, his lips crashed against mine. It wasn't slow or sweet—it was hungry, all teeth and tongue, a reminder of exactly who I belonged to. My fingers found their way into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan, and he backed me up against the kitchen counter, pressing into me until there was nothing between us but the thin fabric of his shirt.
"Missed waking up next to you," he muttered against my lips.
I grinned, breathless. "Then why'd you get up so early?"
His hands slid lower, gripping my thighs as he lifted me onto the counter. "Had something to take care of."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"
Noel reached behind me, grabbing something off the counter before holding it up. A single, crumpled red rose.
I blinked. "You got me a flower?"
