Loving Drake by Pamela Ann

The Star in My Eyes
    Months Later…
     
    “Lil? Are you in here?” Drake called out from outside the walk-in closet door.
    I was getting ready to attend a charity event with him that night. I had barely just gotten out of the shower, and my hair still dripping wet as I tried to squeeze out the excess water using a small hand towel I had grabbed from the nearby sink.
    “Give me fifteen. I’ll be ready by then. Sorry,” I responded, yelling at the top of my lungs as my eyes brushed through the evening gowns I had hung on the rack.
    When Drake said that he’d be waiting for me downstairs, I released a short sigh before I scrambled to put together the perfect outfit for tonight.
    Orders had taken forever to finish earlier in the day and I hadn’t wanted to leave Masie in the store alone. It was a joint business venture—a baby one at that—and I didn’t want to slack on work. Even though Masie had insisted that I leave early to get ready for that night’s event, I hadn’t paid heed. It wouldn’t have been fair to leave her with batches of pastries left to go for a party that had booked at the last minute. Since we were a new business, we tried not to decline any orders at all, even if we had to pull our hair out at most times because it was unreasonable.
    Our main goal was to make a name for ourselves in our pastry boutique shop located in The Promenade. So, yes, making vast sacrifices was in order, even if it was on a daily basis.
    We both loved and enjoyed it, so it was all worth it in the end. The only thing I wished was that Drake’s social commitments would be more limited, but luck hadn’t granted me that. Especially since their business was diverse and they invested in back-up films; the invites from Hollywood producers and directors were never ending. Not to mention charities they supported, movie premiers, and the list kept on growing. Nevertheless, with my work commitment and all, my marriage to Drake was impeccable—superb—and one that a lot of people were jealous of.
    I was one of the lucky few that had married the man of their dreams, and even though I was barely making it with balancing my work and social commitments, I would continue on and make both ends satisfied and happy. Albeit I would be ready to sleep the second I walked out of the shop, seeing Drake was supplement enough. He was enough. Always.
    A minute past the fifteen promised, I descended the stairs, dressed in one of my memorable gowns that he adored so much. My barely dried hair was in a neat pile atop my head, showing off the diamond studs my father had given me. I was set to go and socialize for the evening.
    Gray eyes met me, sparkling with love, adoration and admiration. “Have I ever told you that you take my breath away?” He did, in fact, sound out of breath.
    A shy, satisfied smile formed across my red-tinted lips playfully. I had dressed to look the part of a dutiful wife, but most of all, I dressed to entice my husband. After all, I was learning the art of seduction, and there was nothing that provoked men’s thoughts better than looking like a delicious dessert that they couldn’t have a bite of until they got you all to themselves later on.
    I was still an amateur, yet I aimed to please. Slowly but surely, I would get there.
    Drake’s appetite was insatiable, as was mine. Learning about sexuality and how arousing it was to see my husband’s eyes inflamed with rabid lust that only I—his wife—could satisfy was the ultimate euphoria.
    “Lily,” he greeted with a deep, grumbling groan as he strode towards me, his eyes trained on me like an animal in heat.
    “Drake,” I responded smoothly.
    Smooth my voice might be, however I was the polar opposite inside. Deep within, I was simmering for him—for his touch, his kiss, his lovemaking. We hadn’t done much in a week because the night before he’d left for a business trip, my monthly visitor had come, thus dampening our nightly festivities. So, yes, we were both