Seeing him so worked up makes me feel bad, especially since I basically made him insecure about me forgiving him mere seconds ago. I hold up my hand, placing it on his chest. “Stop. I’m just fucking with you. And I get why you thought that; I probably would have thought the same if I were in your shoes. The reason I was upset is because you wouldn’t ever give me the opportunity to explain, and you didn’t just flat out ask. Maybe I should have just been blunt from the get-go, but in defense of us both, there was way more than a lot of shit going on at the time. And one more thing: to be blunt again,” I cringe at the words I’m about to say next, knowing he won’t like them but also knowing he needs to hear them, “you’re the only person I ever got so caught up in the moment with that I didn’t use a condom.”
A puff of air escapes his lips and he growls again, not saying anything for about a minute. “I don’t want to hear about you and him ever again. From here on out, we forget about it. You. Belong. To. Me.” His fingers tighten around my wrist as he bites off the words, then loosen as he orders in a resigned tone, “Walk with me.”
I follow alongside him until we reach a bench nearby. It’s so tiny there’s really only room for one person to sit, especially considering how bulky Gray is.
“Is your wound hurting you? Would you rather me stand?” I ask, confused.
“No, just sit down for a minute, there’s a few things I want to get off my chest.” I start to blindly follow his request, but thinking about his injury has me worrying.
“How about we compromise, you sit and I’ll sit in your lap. That way, you’re resting too,” I suggest.
“No,” he states disdainfully.
“Why not?” I argue. His hand cups the back of his neck, as he shakes his head from side to side.
He’s antsy about something.
Shooting me a pleading look he asks, “Can you not be so inquisitive for once in your damn life and just sit down. I’ll sit with you in a minute.”
“Whatever,” I sass, dropping down onto the bench with a plop and tensing when the wooden slats creak under the pressure. After a few moments, I’m relieved to find the material is just weathered but still sturdy.
Once I’m settled, I glance up at him, and it’s the first time I notice what he’s wearing.
Dark-wash blue jeans fit snug on his thighs, and a white cotton tee clings to his torso beneath a flannel shirt. My eyes create a smoldering trail from head to toe, where I finally notice he’s wearing work boots. No more suit and ties for him. He’s sporting my all-time favorite look—other than being stark naked of course. I can’t even stifle the way I bite down on my lip or the moan that escapes at the same time. Oh. My. God.
I cross my legs, then uncross them. Then, I cross them again, pressing my thighs together and squeezing.
His lip twitches in response.
“What?” his smug-ass tone questions.
“Um…you’re wearing jeans again. And I can detect a little of that southern twang I love so much. You’re like, my Gray again. Not the serious, mystique clone that I could never decipher.”
He frowns at my answer, rocking back on his heels.
“I wasn’t your Gray when I was wearing suits?”
Hearing the reticence in his voice, I’m quick to clarify what I meant. “You’re my Gray no matter how you look. But right now, you’re more yourself than you’ve been in forever. Like you’re free or something.”
He nods, seeming to understand what I’m getting at. Drawing in a ragged breath, he pins me with a look that says he doesn’t want me to interrupt again. His velvety tone fills the air seconds later. “I need to apologize for everything. The deceitfulness, the shadiness over the Dom and working for Jameson situation. I should have just come clean, but I thought I was protecting you more by keeping you in the dark.” He starts to fidget as he speaks, shoving his hands in his pockets only to yank them out again. Pacing for a few moments, then standing stark still. “And even more than that, I’m sorry for staying away from you. I don’t think that part could have been avoidable without putting you at risk, but I’m sorry all the same. And I’m so, so sorry I diminished your telling me you loved me with a lame ass excuse about you feeling obligated to do so. I knew you didn’t feel obligated. Hell, you withheld the words for so long it’s obvious you only say them when it’s true…I just wish I could convey to you what a gift they were to wake up to in that hospital bed. I never realized how badly I’d been needing them until you said them.”
“I love you,” I interrupt, and he smiles at me tenderly, saying the same back to me with a wink. His hands scrub over his face, his demeanor changing as he primes himself for whatever he’s about to say next. Just seeing this reaction from him causes me to be on edge, my entire body tingling with nervous energy. Reaching out, he cups my face, tipping my chin up so his eyes can bore down into mine.
“The words I said to you that day in the car when I pushed you away, they were completely fucked up, and they hurt me way more than they did you. I know that doesn’t seem possible, but I swear to you, Valley, I died a little inside that day. Not one of those things were true.
“You’re so much more than a cheap fuck, you’re the most meaningful sex of my life. You could never be just a fun fling when you’re the one. I’ve always prided myself on being an honest man, but that day, I was such a damn liar. I probably told more lies in that one conversation than I have in my entire life. I haven’t moved on; I’ll never move on. You’re it for me.”
I fight. I fight so hard to keep tears from slipping from my eyes when they’re beginning to burn so intensely. All the while, he’s staring down at me with love burning so brightly in his eyes, and my throat is growing more thick by the second.
“And as for dropping the Knightley from your identity…God. The very reason I acted like I despised it in the first place, was because when I saw you had taken it for your last name, I felt nothing but pride. When I ordered you to drop it—when I said you’d never be a Knightley—I knew with every fiber of my being I was telling you a lie. I knew that it would be my life’s purpose once Dominic was dead, to make you my wife. I want you to be a real Knightley with your real name this time. Nothing in this world would make me happier.”
Stealing my breath, he drops to his knee with a gleam in his eye and it’s like I’m witnessing everything through a slow-motion video as it unfolds before me. “Valentina Elise Malone—hopefully soon to be amended to Knightley,” he husks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he bites back a smile, “will you marry me?”
His palm slides into his pocket, reappearing in a fist. Like a flower-bud unfurling to reveal a beautiful bloom, he slowly uncurls his fingers to reveal his mother’s ring. I thought it was gone forever, lost in the basement of Hell, never to be recovered. Once I hone in on it, my vision blurs, my eyes yielding a fountain of happy tears that are hard to contain.
“Maybe, but before I decide, you have to answer one question,” I whisper, swiping at my face because one errant tear refused to stay in place.
“Maybe?” he roars playfully, then, “Any question you want. What is it?” he gazes up into my face, voice brimming with emotion.
“Actually two.”
He rolls his eyes before raising his eyebrow in question.
“You aren’t just wanting to marry me because I’m pregnant? Like you genuinely, truly want me to be your wife?” The apprehension in my voice is front and center as I await the verdict. My life is just beginning now that I don’t have to live in fear. I can go wherever I want. Be whoever I want. I can do anything. The possibilities are endless.
But I suddenly realize, the one thing I want more than anything…is a home. To be awarded the one thing I’ve never had—a big family. To be surrounded by love.
We can travel the world together, or maybe we’ll just lay down our roots, settling down in a place we love and going on occasional vacations. My heart yearns to return to the quaint little town in North Carolina that changed my life. I don�
��t care what we do, as long as it’s together.
The look he shoots me makes me think he’s secretly commenting, are you kidding me? inside his head, but he replies, “I’ve waited long enough. Do you remember that night after prom, when I asked you to stay?”
I nod.
“I told you I loved you, but I knew you would be too freaked out to say it back. I needed you to stay until you got past your fears about love not existing and all that bogus, then I was going to convince you to marry me. I knew it then and I know it now…If I have to, I’ll wait…” he states confidently, then he throws in with a hint of vulnerability, “just…don’t make me wait any longer.”
I don’t even know what to say right now. I don’t have a smart remark or a sweet one. I’ve literally been rendered speechless. And he seems to notice.
“What’s your other question, Buttercup?” he cajoles.
And I honestly don’t even remember it now. He’s laid all my reservations to rest. My lips turn upward as I teasingly ask, “Did you rehearse that speech?”
He grips my hand and places it to his lips before pulling away to answer, “Like all things having to do with you, nothing is rehearsed or forced. It all comes natural.”
I melt a little right then and there. It all comes natural.
“So, what’s your answer going to be, Buttercup?”
I already know what my answer’s going to be, but like I already decided before, I’m not giving it too easily.
“Hmm…I don’t know. It depends.” I stand suddenly, using all my strength to pull him up with me.
His eyes narrow as my palm slides beneath the hem of his shirt, lightly brushing against the perfectly constructed divots of his abs. Lifting up on my toes, I press my lips to his, my tongue swiping at the seam of his lips. Relaxing against my body, one of his arms snakes up my back, his large hand cupping my slender neck possessively as he bites down on my lip.
The dull thrumming between my legs intensifies in an instant. I don’t know if it’s the hormones, or just the fact that it’s Gray, but I’m suddenly sizzling with lust. Pulling back to break our kiss, I stare him dead in the eye, biting on my lip when I see how badly he wants me too.
“How much more time do we have up here to ourselves?”
His jaw ticks, like he’s fighting his arousal when he responds, “About another hour.”
I throw him a wicked grin, reminded of how empowered it makes me when I’m the one doing the seducing. “How about you take a seat on this bench now, Daddy,” I suggest huskily. His face lights up with undeniable hunger.
“Oh, Daddy is it now?” he smirks back at me.
“Well yeah, since you’re going to be a Dad and all…”
I spin him around so that his back is now to the bench without him even realizing it before pushing him down, the exhaustion over his injury obviously working in my favor. Lifting up the bottom of my dress, I climb on his lap, straddling him.
His fingers curl into my hair as he guides my head to the side, his lips finding the curve of my neck. I sigh when he peppers my skin with soft kisses and playful little nips that make my toes curl. I pull back.
“We’re going to play a little game,” I tell him teasingly, throwing the words he once used on me back at him. A lifted eyebrow is the only response I get, but he doesn’t disagree, spurring me on. “You close your eyes or break eye contact, and I stop doing what I’m doing. But to make it even more interesting, you close your eyes or break eye contact, and I won’t be giving you an affirmative answer.”
Before he can even react, I slide off his lap, dropping to the ground in front of him.
“V,” he reprimands, his tone a warning. For a moment the only thing I hear is the staggered metallic sound of his zipper as I drag it down slowly. Sliding my hand into his boxers, I free his cock and wrap my fist around his hard length, pumping up and down. He lets out an angry hiss, and I enjoy every moment of his conflicted expression; relish in the way I can so easily shred away his control.
My eyes flick back to his, and from the look on his face, I’m playing with fire. But I don’t care. I’ve always thought fire was a wild and beautiful thing. “I’m serious,” I remind him, just as he did to me when the situation was reversed. “You break eye contact, and I’m not saying yes.”
Dipping my head, I roll my tongue around the crown, making sure to maintain eye contact as I do. How else will I ensure he doesn’t break the rules?
Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he bites down, his nostrils flaring as he breathes through his nose. He’s glaring at me now, obviously fuming at the position I’ve put him in, his eyes dancing with questions, namely, just how serious are you?
Pretty damn serious, I silently convey, even though I’m stretching the truth. I use more suction, finding a rhythm as I go up and down, taking him a little further down my throat each time I do.
“Fuck,” he groans, shaking his head slightly before his hand lands in my hair, sliding through my strands to help guide me. So far, his eyes are still burning into mine but just like he’s determined to be a team player, I’m determined to make him fail.
Just how bad does he want it?
I alternate between moments of going all the way down to the point of gagging, fighting hard against my reflex, and only coming halfway back up so that he’s still very deep inside of me even when I rear back. His eyes turn into two angry dashes, but never quite close all the way.
Not even when one hand starts to pump at the base of him, sliding easily through my fist.
Not even when the other cups his balls, massaging them simultaneously.
He remains ever resilient, and that’s when my eyes land on his lip pulled between his teeth again and nearly white as he clamps down tightly. I almost feel bad for him, almost, but I remember just how frustrating it feels to be in his position and that he’s the reason I’ve known that feeling not once, but twice.
Even more determined, I pick up the pace, bobbing up and down and swirling my tongue in tandem. When he squeezes my roots tightly, I can’t help but moan, and finally, finally sweet victory! His eyes slam shut for all of two seconds.
“Damn it,” he grates out when he realizes his misstep. A look of defeat crosses his face, and I pull back with a smirk. Instantly, he grabs my shoulders and hoists me up his body.
“Please say that doesn’t count,” he pleads, his expression comical even though I’m trying to make him stew. “Give me another chance.”
“Okay.” A giggle slips out before I can stop it. “I guess.” Straddling his lap again, he pulls me down for a kiss.
“Tell me your mine, baby,” he growls when I purposefully grind against him.
“I’m yours,” I assure. “I just wanted you to know what all that sexual frustration feels like,” I add, a teasing lilt to my tone.
He lets out a sigh of relief, pinning me with a playful glare. “So…will you marry me?” He pulls the ring out of his shirt pocket, where he had secured it when things started getting heated.
“Hell yeah, I’ll marry you,” I squeal, my expression feels so animated on my face, I probably look like I’m jacked up on something. I’ve never felt so much adrenaline and dopamine surging through my body as I do right now—and both at the same time?
This right here is the definition of being high on life.
My brand of crazy; it’s not something I could control if I tried.
The warm metal touches the end of my finger as Gray slides the ring on, and I feel every millimeter of it traveling the path to its forever home. When it finally reaches its destination, I throw my arms wildly around the love of my life’s neck, scraping my fingers through his hair and fusing our lips together.
“Now, I want to make love to my future husband,” I mumble against his lips, verifying my intentions in case there was any question.
“Good, ‘cuz I wanna make love to my future wife,” he quips, finally shedding his stiff formal accent all the way and revealing that full southern drawl
that makes my knees weak and my panties wet. Speaking of panties, his thumbs are suddenly hooking into the sides of mine, working them down my legs just past my knees before he hoists me above him again.
I glance down between us as he fists his thick, beautiful cock, loving how it throbs in his hand and seems to grow even harder under my attention. Lining it up with my slick entrance, he gathers the juices of my arousal, rolling his crown across my clit, playing with me just as if his fingers were working the determined circles. “Tell me again.” His gruff voice is raw as he elicits an order stemming from the beginning of time, the most basic and rudimental need a man can have regarding his mate. Possession.
He has possessed me just as I have possessed him. We own each other in a way most people will never have the honor of knowing.
Sunlight catches on the diamond prisms, glittering like stars trapped in the night sky when I wiggle my left hand in his face. Being the girl that I am, I’m going to be showing off my newly engaged status any chance I get. His eyes are shimmering with some emotion I’ve never seen before, one I can’t quite place as I acquiesce his command. “I’m yours, Gray. Always have been, always will be.”
Before the words even roll off my tongue, his hands find the curves of my ass, his fingers making indentions as he grips me tightly, then plunges deep inside in one swift movement.
Sweet, sweet pain.
Languid but powerful strokes slowly wind me up, each one increasing the tension deep inside of me while he guides me to an unhurried rhythm on top of him. And as we make love to each other, he kisses me. He kisses me like I’m his lifeline, like if he ever stops doing it he’ll lose his grip on reality and come crashing back into the cold, unwelcoming arms of the world. He kisses me like the many times he’s drawn me—reverently, intricately in such a way it engraves every surface of my heart. A permanent and stunning graffiti no one else can see.
Love on the Rise: Book Two of The Against All Odds Series Page 32