Perfect Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  Damn. I pay Tiffany enough to keep her mouth shut.

  “I was here working when Reese picked up Millie,” I say, adding nothing. I won’t let him bust my balls.

  “I guess that’s what I get for believing a preschooler.”

  Millie’s the traitor?

  “What did she say?”

  “She was giving Tiffany a hard time in the hall earlier. I told her I was going to talk to Reese, and she said she’s sleepy because you and Reese left her here late. But she likes her room at your house, and if I tell on her, her aunt might make her go home.” A shit-eating grin tears across his face.

  “Whatever, bro,” I say, waving my hand.

  “Relax, man. I don’t care. If anything, I’m here to congratulate you, but you both might want to do a better job of hiding it from Millie. The kid talks a lot.”

  “It’s not like that. I don’t want to say too much because it’s not my story to tell. But with everything going on, they’re just safer with me.”

  “Safer from what?” He gives me an assessing look.

  “Ward, just leave it alone. It’s not company business.”

  “Oh, hell. Her sister’s mess is bleeding over, isn’t it? I’m proud of you for everything you’ve done for Reese and Millie. If you feel like it’s too much—”

  “I don’t. And I don’t need your help,” I throw back.

  I don’t need his approval either.

  Hell, I don’t deserve it.

  I’m sleeping with an employee and I don’t regret it. Apparently, I’d already be trending on social media again, caked in mud with her, if someone didn’t owe Grandma a big fat mysterious favor.

  Ward’s brotherly “pride” makes it worse somehow. Not better.

  “Thanks for stopping by. I’ve got work to finish,” I say.

  “Are you okay, Nick?”

  “Just busy.”

  “If you need to talk—”

  “Ward, will you get the hell out of my office?” I don’t mean to sound so harsh.

  He glowers back at me, swiveling out of his chair.

  He stands and walks out the door without looking back.

  I lean back in my chair, rubbing my face.

  You know that split-second feeling when you’re tumbling down a flight of stairs, airborne, right before the sharp edges impact skin and bone?

  That’s where I’m at right now.

  Everything perched on the precipice—likely already over it—bracing for imminent pain.

  Between Ward’s probing and worries over what Osprey knows about Reese, I can’t focus enough to get anything done.

  Until now, I haven’t worried about anyone but myself. At least my reputation was hard earned, forged in careless antics and bad decisions.

  Reese has done jack shit to end up at the mercy of the internet’s asshole.

  She’s done nothing to deserve it, and her life has been hard enough.

  I don’t care what I have to do or what it costs me. I won’t drag her into my mess.

  Before I know it, the morning runs away, and it’s time for me to head over to Brandt Dreams for another long afternoon.

  Eventually, I’ll step away from Brandt Ideas completely once my spin-off hits its stride. For now, I like being able to check in on Millie while Reese is out driving.

  Do you have time to get lunch before you need to be at Brandt Dreams? Reese texts.

  My stomach sinks.

  I’ll never deny this girl anything. Even Roland Osprey and his minions can’t make lunch too scandalous.

  Yep. What are we eating today? I send back.

  Even in a hell of my own making, I smile at the screen, awaiting her reply.

  * * *

  It’s odd having an instafamily with an expiration date.

  We’ve all settled into a routine. Reese chops whatever I need to make dinner, and I cook on the nights when we don’t grab takeout.

  We alternate days off reading to Millie, but we all hang out in her room during storytime. My reading nights started as an accident.

  Reese read to her a couple of nights, and then one evening Millie pointed to me and said, “Quick Nick reads tonight!”

  Who am I to deny a princess?

  Look, it doesn’t matter what your net worth is or how big your CEO balls are—when a four-year-old drafts you into storytime, you smile and do it.

  I’m not as good at it as Reese. I don’t do the voices, but Millie still smiles through the whole book.

  I glance at the time on my computer. It’s after six.

  Reese will be here to pick me up soon.

  Even packing up my briefcase feels lighter. I never pictured myself as the cooking at home, reading to a preschooler type, but it’s more rewarding than late nights at clubs where I’d wake up hungover, usually next to women I couldn’t name to save my life.

  The town car pulls up to the curb of Brandt Dreams. I open the passenger door and slide in.

  “I made you something,” Millie says from the back seat.

  I turn and stretch my hand for it.

  “What did you learn today, little lady?” I ask.

  She hands me a piece of construction paper with two stick figures drawn on it. The taller stick figure has a hilariously long arm that reaches down, holding the arm of the smaller stick figure, who links up with a smaller one in turn.

  “Guess!” Millie chirps, her eyes round marbles.

  “Really? You drew us?” I grin back at her, pretending to be oblivious. “You did my hair justice, Millie. Awesome job.”

  In the picture, it actually looks like a black tarantula landed on my head, but who am I to play art critic? I’m the odd one out in this family who puts practicality above poetry.

  Beside me, Reese bites her lip, trying not to laugh.

  “What’s so funny? She nailed your smile,” I say, holding the picture up and tapping it. “Sucks that we have to give her back once we get things straightened out with Abby.”

  Reese’s eyes flick from the road to me. Pink dances on her face.

  “We?”

  Damn. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I don’t answer.

  “You can’t take it back now. You’ve already said it. It’s okay to admit you’re having fun, bossman,” she whispers.

  “Yeah, well, what’s for dinner?” I grumble.

  “Way to change the subject.” Reese winks, slaughtering me with those blue eyes.

  “Pizza!” Millie screams.

  “Should I make it or should we order in?”

  “Pizza Shack?” Millie asks with wide eyes.

  I look at Reese.

  “We have a request and I do like their grub. You’d be surprised how many billionaires eat there,” I say, remembering a time when I ran into HeronComm’s mogul, Magnus Heron, stuffing his face with his family. Like Ward, he’s matured and calmed down a hell of a lot.

  Reese laughs in agreement.

  We spend a couple hours playing the arcade games with Millie and eating our body weight in deep dish pizza with cheese so gooey it should be illegal. The kid falls asleep in the car on the way home.

  Back at my place, Reese gets her out of her booster seat, kisses the top of her head, and carries her off to bed.

  No storytime tonight with Millie so exhausted. I wait for Reese until she steps out of the guestroom.

  Without hesitation, my hands find her waist, pull her in, and I damn near kiss her face off.

  She whimpers deliciously against my tongue, muffling a laugh.

  “You’ve been waiting for a while, huh?” she whispers.

  “For you, all fucking day. Nighttime is my time, darling.”

  My mouth attacks hers again, deeper, the lust churning in my balls heating every breath.

  It’s got a stranglehold on her, too.

  She sucks at my bottom lip like a tigress, teasing the inside of my mouth with her tongue before she rips it away. If it wasn’t for the tyke sleeping just a wall away, I’d slam her against the surface with
my hips and take her, right the fuck here.

  But I promised her a bed, didn’t I?

  Sometimes I hate being a man of my word.

  “Nick, you’re the best, and I don’t just mean best kisser. I couldn’t have done any of this without you. I hope you know that,” she says, glancing up at me with eyes like a winter thaw. “I hope you know that no matter what happens, I’ll never forget what you—”

  I scoop her up in my arms. She makes a soft squeal of surprise.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking my woman to bed right the fuck now. Before we waste more time on words when we could be speaking with skin,” I say, my throat on fire, inhaling her.

  “W-what if she just wants to watch Netflix?” Her saucy smile isn’t even funny.

  “If you want TV, I’ll turn it on for you. Then I’ll bend you over in front of it, mount your ass, and fuck you until you can’t pay attention to anything but your own screams.”

  I can see the heat in my eyes reflected back—no, matched—in hers.

  Fuck.

  I don’t need to breathe another harsh word before we’re tumbling into the bedroom. I lock my door, lay Reese on my bed, lean over her, and take her mouth.

  Her lips part with a whimper, inviting me in.

  Tonight, I’m greedy as hell, taking everything she gives me.

  Every whimper.

  Every tremble.

  Every bit of pleading in her eyes.

  I take her all, and give back a storm.

  She crouches on her knees, reaching for the buttons on my shirt.

  “You’re trembling,” I say, my eyes flicking to her fingers. “Is that what I do to you, sweetheart?”

  She sucks at her bottom lip, her eyes wide, her fingers trying to work and slipping.

  With a worn breath, I bury her little hand under mine, eclipsing her fingers.

  “You want to answer first? Or do I need to reach between your legs and see how sopping wet, how ready, you are for me?”

  “Nick,” she whines, her small tongue curling over her lips. “You make me psycho.”

  Psycho.

  One strange word makes my cock throb with a raging pulse.

  Leaning low, I slowly inhale her. I swear I can smell how eager she is, how much she’s begging to be pillaged.

  When I look down, my shirt is open. She drops a winding hand down my chest.

  I place my hand under her chin, tilting her face up, and loot her strawberry mouth.

  “Shit. In case you wondered, we’re one in this madness,” I whisper, shaking out of my shirt.

  Even the way she looks at me undoes me a hundred times over.

  Her hands move to the button of my pants as she sucks that lip, turning my blood to magma.

  “Not yet.” I place a hand over them, stilling them.

  My turn. I lift her off the bed and pull her shirt over her head, hurling it across the room. Her sports bra is gone today, replaced with lacey cups she almost spills out of.

  “For me?” I growl, sliding a finger underneath one round tit, circling her nipple.

  She nods, closing her eyes. I love how her chestnut hair spills down her shoulders.

  “Since there’s someone else to see it...I thought I should make a few improvements.”

  “Improvements,” I repeat gruffly. “Biggest upgrade you can make is keeping this body ready for me at all times.” There are no words for what’s next, my pulse beating like a drum.

  I reach behind her back, unclasp the bra, shove it down her arms, and bend my head to her breasts.

  Heaven.

  My mouth tames a nipple while my fingertips encircle the other, sending her to ecstasy.

  When I say I could spend an entire day etching her face into my mind, it’s no exaggeration. Especially when I send her through the full spectrum of emotion with every pinch, every caress, every heated flick of my tongue and sting of my teeth.

  Agony.

  Impatience.

  Defiance.

  Shock.

  Awe.

  Sweet relief.

  She gives it up and then some, her eyes fluttering as I pull her into my mouth, sucking greedily. These tits are fucking mine.

  For a scalding second, I can even see a flash of her glowing like a summer day, cradling a child to her chest—a baby I put in her.

  Fuck. What’s happening to me?

  “Oh, Nick. W-wait,” she moans, digging her nails into the back of my neck.

  I pull away reluctantly. “I didn’t mean to bite you so hard—”

  “No.” She smiles. “No, it’s just—”

  She locks eyes and shimmies her pants down.

  My eyes drop to the V between her legs like depraved hunting hawks.

  Her matching lace panties hug her hips, and a diamond hole with a jewel dangling from it rests just above her triangle. I swear, her navel piercing invites me to devour everything underneath.

  “You just killed me. Congratulations,” I groan.

  She smiles. “The lady at the store said they would, but—”

  “Reese, fuck. You didn’t need fancy panties to undo me. You’ve done it a thousand times before dressed in three layers, plus that bulky-ass winter coat.”

  “Hold me,” she whispers.

  I can’t deny her.

  Moving forward, I’m about to tumble her down on the bed and slide into her, fumbling a hand in my pocket for a condom.

  Only, she shoves her hands playfully against my chest.

  “Wait,” she whispers, grabbing the button to my pants, slowly undoing it.

  The zipper falls, and so do my trousers. Then she puts her hands on both sides of my briefs, yanking them down with the same hunger I used undressing her.

  She cups a hand around my shaft, already straining with wicked intent against her skin.

  “Shit” I breathe. “I thought I was bringing you off?”

  “That’s up to you,” she says with a husky tone that turns me inside out.

  I want to fuck her, but I also need her touch, my cock hounding me to give in as her hand pumps up and down my length.

  I’m a dead man walking.

  Chuckling, I push forward, into her strokes. When she brings those pert lips to the tip of my dick and kisses the head, I rear back and crash down on the edge of the bed.

  It’s all I can do to avoid busting streamers like the Fourth of July.

  A boiling growl rips out of me as I sit up.

  “What gives? Less than a week ago, you were Miss Innocent.” I kiss her jaw and down her neckline. “Now you’re a damned seductress. I can’t decide which Halle I like more.”

  She runs a finger around the sensitive tip of my cock, then grips it, pumping up and down. Her eyes shine like ice-blue pools.

  “Fine. Seductress wins,” I grind out. “Show me what that mouth can do, sweetheart. Suck.”

  She obeys.

  Goddammit, she obeys.

  Recent virgin or not, I have to believe she’s given a blowjob before. Those lips cling to my shaft like a velvet ring, spiraling down my length. She gets halfway—most girls never make it that far—before moving up, then coming back down with greater confidence.

  My hand twines a tangle of her hair around my fingers.

  Even when she’s on her knees, sucking me to the brink, being utterly defiled, she’s beautiful.

  And the living art of her pink mouth full of me, working, triggering neurons I didn’t know I had, turns the heat lashing my balls into an inferno.

  “You keep that up,” I snarl, choking on a hot breath. “You keep that up, I will come in your mouth, woman.”

  Rather than slowing down, my confession only sends her into overdrive. She closes her eyes, bobbing her head, even fighting my hand as it leashes her hair. I’m struggling for a measure of control and failing—fucking failing.

  Because I may have her in my fist, but every second she engulfs me, we both know who’s prisoner.

  Her eyes look up with a plea.r />
  Nicholas, give it to me. Come!

  It strikes without warning, a breathless fireball crackling up my spine. My instinct to fill her the fuck up kicks into overdrive, and I shove her head down on my cock as it swells.

  Ropes of fire. Ribbons of ecstasy. Knives of static pleasure crisscross every nerve ending I own, ending with the guttural curse leaping off my lips.

  “Shitfuckdamn!” It comes out as one hoarse word with the flood pouring into her mouth.

  It’s a miracle she even swallows anything with how forceful it comes on—with how much white-hot heat erupts out of me.

  A few seconds later, it’s running down her chin. Seeing her painted with my essence like a damned soul from a medieval hellscape when she looks so angelic annihilates me.

  I’m coming so hard I see stars.

  When my senses return, I’m flat on my back, Reese still wiping her mouth shyly as she strokes my brow.

  “Well?”

  I blink at her. “That was...”

  “Unexpected?” she finishes, tilting her head in question.

  “Total insanity. Marry me,” I spit, reaching up to shove my fingers through hers. “Marry me right the hell now.”

  She’s laughing—and I’m not even sure I’m joking—as I spring up, feeling a new vigor to pay her back.

  I fight her under me, my mouth wrestling hers, kissing her until I taste moans like soft lavender.

  When she’s a whimpering mess, my tongue turns south, roaming her body and reclaiming her breasts. She rakes her nails through my hair, her eyes pinched shut, pushing my head down impatiently when I move in for her eager pussy.

  My nostrils tingle, raging to breathe her in, to brand her taste in my memory.

  Shifting my weight, I toss her quivering legs over my shoulders and finally press my tongue against soft lace. My teeth catch a fringe of fabric and make quick work of it.

  “Oh, hell. Ohh—Nick.”

  Have I mentioned how much I love hearing my name like the world’s nastiest curse on her lips?

  I show her how much, sliding my tongue up and down in languid strokes, dead over the center seam of that lace, before I rip her panties down her legs and onto the floor.

  “Nick.” She sighs my name again, rapt with worship.

  Warm cream tells me she wants this as badly as I do.

  She loves every second, how I cut hypnotic circles around her clit, how I slowly fuck her slit with my tongue, how I get rougher as her ass rises, and especially how my hands grip her thighs. I shove them against my face and go deeper with a growl, pulling her clit between my teeth, forcing her to ride my beard.