Jesus Christ. The humiliation game jumped several levels with that image. Picturing him watching his friends pass me around like some kind of fuck toy is scorching hot like I can’t even explain. It’s not a fantasy I’d want played out in reality, and I know Chance is dead against sharing me, so it’s safe to indulge in the taboo thoughts and implied degradation.
He must see it in my eyes because he curses under his breath and revokes the threat as quickly as he’d issued it. “Fuck that. You’re mine. Only mine.”
The heat swirling in my belly is now a churning pit of fiery lava on the brink of erupting. My legs begin to tremble, and I clamp them harder around his waist in a futile attempt to squeeze my thighs together to ease the throbbing ache. Beads of sweat break out on his forehead and strained lines bracket his eyes and mouth, proving I’m not the only one struggling to hold out. But whereas he has an iron will, I’m fighting a losing battle.
As my climax nears its peak, I whimper and plead for the release only he can give me. His pace quickens, and he changes the angle so his pubic bone strikes my clit with every thrust. I moan and squeeze my eyes shut as the tingling races beneath my skin.
“Tell me you’re mine!”
“I’m yours!” I scream, meaning it down to the marrow of my bones.
With a final roar ripped from his chest, he pushes home one last time, and we come together in the most intense orgasm of my life. After a minute and still clinging to each other, he moves lazily inside me, coaxing me through the aftershocks and drawing out our pleasure for as long as possible. Eventually, he eases me down his body and makes sure I’m steady on my feet. He readjusts my boy shorts then tucks himself back into his jeans, only bothering to pull up the zipper.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I don’t even know why. I suspect it’s partially from the intensity of what we just shared after our time apart and partially from the uncertainty of where we go from here that’s sitting like a brick in my stomach. Despite all that, I give him a watery smile. Don’t mind me. I’m just acting like a silly girl. Everything is totally fine.
Sighing, he frames my face with the rough hands I love so much and stares deep into my eyes. “I fucked up the best thing in my life when I walked out that night. But I swear to you, I won’t make that mistake twice. I’m sorry I hurt you, sweetness. So goddamn sorry.”
I grab onto his wrists as though it will anchor me in this moment and give them a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, too. I never meant for you to think that your stripping is a deal breaker. As long as you’re coming home to me, I don’t care who you dance for.”
A flicker of surprise skates over his features, then he smiles and places a kiss on each of my palms before holding them against his chest. “You’re something else, you know that?”
I shrug and hope the twinge in my gut at the thought of him still working bachelorette parties doesn’t show on my face. I said I didn’t care. I didn’t say I wouldn’t like it. It’s not something he’ll do forever—I know that—so I’m happy to wait it out if it means we’re together.
“You’re a much better person than me,” he continues, “because if I ever saw another man touch you like you saw your cousin touching me, I’d kill him.”
“Believe me, the thought crossed my mind, but explaining it to my aunt would’ve been a pain in the ass.”
The vibrations from his chuckle roll through me, warming me from the inside like fine brandy. “I like that you want me all to yourself, baby, and as it turns out, I have a weakness for giving you what you want. So, I’m done.”
“Done?”
He nods. “You’re the only woman I’m going to dance for ever again.”
My heart leaps into my throat, and I struggle to swallow it back down so I can speak. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious. When I told you I didn’t have a reason to stop, it was bullshit. You are my reason. But I’m not doing it just for you. I’m doing it for myself. I’m doing it for us.” He’s choosing me. He’s choosing us. Chance softly brushes away my runaway tears with the backs of his knuckles. “I need to be with you, Jane. I love you.”
I freeze, my breath stuck in my chest. I know what this admission is costing him. Big, strong, unaffected Chance Danvers has flayed himself open and made himself vulnerable to a woman who hasn’t yet given him any indication of whether she feels the same way. “You…love me?”
“More than I ever thought possible.” He lowers his forehead to mine and watches the path his thumb makes over my lower lip. “Say something, sweetness,” he says in a raspy voice. “Please.”
“Say it again.”
Hot tears fall past my lashes to stream down my face. Chance catches them with his thumbs and wipes them away. “I fucking love you.”
Joy bursts from me in the form of a clipped laugh. “Of all the toe-curling, heart-stopping things you’ve ever uttered to me, that is my absolute favorite.”
“Good, because from now on, I’m focusing my attention on two things: running my companies and loving the hell out of you.” One side of his mouth lifts up—an attempt at his trademark cocky grin, but I can’t help notice it’s missing its usual confidence. “If you’ll still have me.”
Ah, and there it is. He’s still unsure about everything, and I know it’s because it all happened in the heat of the moment. The things he said to me were part of an act, part of the way we play together “in the bedroom,” and now he’s worried that maybe my words weren’t genuine or that I feel differently now that lust is no longer clouding my judgment.
Gazing into the fathomless pools of midnight blue, I will him to hear the truth of what I’m about to say. “That first night you showed up, you not only fixed my sink, you fixed me. You offered to make my fantasies a reality, encouraged me to embrace my most secret desires. You taught me to be shameless and made me feel like I wasn’t broken simply for wanting what I wanted. My heart will only ever beat for you, Chance.” I smile, the tears now streaming uncontrollably down my face. “I love you.”
At last the shadows of doubt are chased away and his brilliant smile matches mine. Chance catches me up against him, lifting me off the floor, and kisses me long and hard until our need for air forces us to break apart.
“God, I fucking missed you,” he rasps.
“Me, too. I missed us.”
“Then let’s not waste any more time getting us back.”
He slowly lowers me until I’m once again on my feet, then takes a step back, reaches a hand behind his head, and pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion. My mouth waters with the desire to lick over his chest, the small buds of his nipples, and every ridge of muscle gracing his torso… But then I get distracted when his hands move to the fly of his jeans. My hungry gaze watches his fingers draw the zipper down, revealing what I didn’t get to see when he took me like a madman before. I lick my lips in anticipation as he takes out his already hardening cock and starts stroking, making himself ready for me.
He pointedly looks at my clothes and jerks his chin. “Do what you should’ve done earlier and take them off, Jane. Show me what’s mine.”
My chest squeezes remembering he said something similar to me the first night I met him. “…Get naked so I can see what’s mine.” I’d wondered back then what it would be like to be claimed by him, and now I know. It’s a feeling I can’t begin to articulate and one I don’t intend on taking for granted.
Eager to obey him, I shed my clothes quickly and wait for the next command. He whispers, “Breathtaking,” and for the first time, I believe him. I push my shoulders back a bit more and stand a little taller—the result of my newfound confidence thanks to Chance. He can have any woman he wants, and he chose me.
My nipples pucker under the weight of his stare and a rush of warmth floods my sex, but the part of me that’s swelling the most is my heart. This is where I belong, with this man, loving him and being loved by him. Whether he’s stroking my hair as we fall asleep or he’s pulling on it as he pounds me into the
mattress, I know the love we have for each other is real, and it’s forever.
“I hope you’re ready to be sore as hell, baby,” he says, his voice gravelly and the cords of his neck standing out with restraint, “because I plan on making up for the last several weeks of pent-up sexual frustration you caused me.”
“Don’t hold back on my account. You know I can take whatever you dish out.”
Chance lets out a satisfied grunt that underscores his body’s approval as a bead of pre-cum leaks from the dusky head of his dick. “I’m in a generous mood, so I’ll give you a choice. We can get straight to the part where I bang your fucking brains out again, or you can wrap those lips around me and show me how much you missed my cock. What’s it gonna be, Jane?”
“That’s easy,” I answer confidently, then smile as I sink to my knees.
He returns my smile with a feral one of his own, wraps a hand in my hair, then growls his signature response and my second favorite thing to hear him say to me. “Good answer.”
Epilogue
Chance
I’m in the living room, flipping through a thousand channels and not finding a damn thing to watch. There are plenty of recorded shows on the DVR, but I won’t watch any of them without Jane, and she’s not home. She’s having a GNO with Addison for the first time in forever, so it’s just me and Romeo chilling together.
He keeps kneading the couch next to me, which has become Jane’s spot since she moved in a few months ago, and giving me his whining meow, like if he acts pathetic enough I can magically make her appear. I pick him up and set him in my lap, scratching him behind the ears in a feeble attempt at consolation.
“I know, buddy, I miss her, too. But we’re gonna have to pretend like she doesn’t have our balls tucked under her pillow and suck it up for the next few hours, all right?” He answers in the same whine, and I’m about to lecture him when I hear the front door open and shut. Romeo bolts off my lap and rushes to the front hall. I mutter “traitor” and turn the TV off so I can focus on my girl, who walks into the room carrying said defector a second later.
“Hey, baby,” I say, folding her into my arms as she sits in her spot next to me. I kiss her slow and deep like I do every time we’ve been apart for the day, then pull back and tuck her head against my shoulder. “Girls Night Out a bust?”
She sighs and nods under my cheek. “Yeah, Addie ended up having to work late. Again. That guy she works for is such a misogynistic asshole. I keep telling her there are other firms out there who would be happy to have her and who wouldn’t treat her like such shit, but she feels obligated to stick with them because they gave her the internship when she was still getting her degree.”
“Didn’t she used to give you shit for working all the time and not taking breaks for fun?”
“Yeah, ironic, right? That’s why she sent you over, though, so I can’t be all that upset at her tactics,” she says with a laugh.
“Maybe you should repay the kindness.”
Jane pulls back to look at me, her brow furrowed, making that adorable crinkle above the bridge of her glasses. “What do you mean?”
A wicked grin hitches up the corner of my mouth as a plan starts to formulate. “I mean, what if we send over someone to help shake her loose, like she did you.”
One of her eyebrows arches toward her hairline. “If you’re talking about coming out of handyman retirement, Chance Danvers, so help me God I’m going to smack you.”
I chuckle, loving the glimpse at the jealous streak that reminds me of why I gave up the stripper life and never looked back. The only woman I ever want to take my clothes off for is my Jane. “No, I was thinking more along the lines of another lawyer. One who could schedule a meeting in a conference room one of these nights when she’s working late all by herself. One who might start loosening the constraints of his suit during the meeting to get comfortable and then might end up with it off all together.”
Her beautiful brown eyes grow wide with excitement. “Oh my God,” she says. “Roman.”
“Not Roman,” I answer with a wink. “Ruthless.”
She claps her hands and nods. “Yes! Holy shit, that’s pure genius.” She grabs my face and plants a smacking kiss on my mouth. “One way or another, you always find a way to fix things. The handyman strikes again.”
I shrug and grin as I pull out my phone and scroll for my friend’s name. “I guess it’s just in my nature.” A couple of seconds later, with my girlfriend bouncing excitedly in my lap, Roman picks up. “Hey, Reeves. How’d you like to do me a favor?”
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Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I need to thank my editor Liz Pelletier and my agent Nicole Resciniti. Both of them stuck by me with endless support when I was dealing with things that made writing almost impossible. Then they worked together to bring me back to life and hauled my ass out of career purgatory. I’m lucky to have them in my corner, and as great friends.
As always, to my husband and kids for dealing with way too many “Not now, I’m working” responses. Without their constant understanding, I wouldn’t be able to do what I love.
To my sprinting partners who kick my ass on a regular basis: Rebecca Yarros, Cindi Madsen, MK Meredith, and Laura Wright. You girls rock my world. And my word counts.
To KP for being my best friend and being there when I need her. Every. Damn. Time.
And to the members of the Maxwell Mob, the greatest street team a girl could ask for. You keep me going. Love you all lots.
About the Author
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author, Gina L. Maxwell, is a shameless romance addict with no intentions of ever kicking the habit.
Growing up, she dreamed of helping people escape reality with her sublime acting abilities. It wasn’t until college when she realized she had none to speak of, thereby derailing her lifelong plans. Another ten years would pass before she discovered a different means of accomplishing the same dream: writing stories of love and passion for romance addicts just like her.
Thanks to the support of her amazing family, Gina is now the Boss of the world’s first organized romance mafia, the Maxwell Mob, and living her dream of bringing a little romantic fantasy to the world—one steamy novel at a time.
Visit and chat with Gina on all her social media homes:
www.ginalmaxwell.com
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