Perfect Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  “Are you ready to order?” Melissa asks me.

  “Umm—” Not really when the only thing I want off any menu is another kiss from my impossible boyfriend. “Western omelet, please.”

  “Toast, bagel, or biscuits?”

  “Bagel.” My usual choice. They were a luxury growing up in the foster system.

  “Butter, jam, or cream cheese?”

  Ugh, too many choices. Especially when all I want is Nick.

  “Cream cheese.”

  “Perfect, I’ll have your food right out.” She walks away.

  Take your time, I think to myself.

  Nick turns his head so those fierce green eyes are leveled on me again. “So, was that a yes?”

  I nod, unable to form words.

  He inches his head closer.

  I think—hope—he’s going to kiss me again.

  Instead, he presses his lips against my ear. “You’re becoming the most important person in my life, Reese. I won’t let you down.”

  Holy hell.

  My eyes flutter shut at the impact of those words.

  Is it too soon to hear him say the soul-shredding L-word? I’ve been dangerously close to saying it since the first time we made love, being the overly emotional ex-virgin I am. But this, here, today...

  It’s a miracle my mouth doesn’t betray my heart.

  For the rest of our brunch, I feel like I’ve reverted back to high school, stuffing my mouth with food and casting moony looks at this boy, the new center of my universe.

  We’ve fallen hard and fast and imperfectly.

  No denying it.

  But doesn’t that mean this is real? Doesn’t that mean nothing could ever steal this away?

  * * *

  Later, with Millie down for the night, Nick and I are alone in his room.

  Instead of going to what’s become “my side” of the bed, I pull the covers down on Nick’s side and lie down. He spoons me to his hard body, linking his arms around me with a sultry kiss to the back of my neck.

  “When are you talking to Ward?” I ask quietly.

  “This week. Got a specific day you prefer?”

  I shrug. “It doesn’t matter, but—” I bite my lip, contemplating how to finish that sentence. I don’t want him to think I’m second-guessing anything, but if Ward finds out we’re together, what else will he know? “If he knows we’re a thing, does he need to know anything else? Like everything about Abby? I know you’ve kept it kinda vague and general and I appreciate that.”

  Nick turns me so I’m facing him.

  “I’ll always protect your privacy. I haven’t told anyone more than they needed to know this whole time. If you’re worried, we can slow down—”

  “No.”

  His eyes flash with humor.

  “That’s not what I meant. I don’t care if everyone knows. I just want to be with you. I only asked so I’d know what to expect,” I whisper.

  Nick’s lips find mine. His tongue traces my lips, then inside my mouth, two longing sighs colliding.

  I wrap my arms around his neck.

  He pulls away with a delicious scrape of scruff against my skin.

  I let out a breath, trembling from the effect he has on me.

  He always does this to me.

  “I love that, Nick,” I say with a shudder.

  It’s not exactly, I love you, but it’s so close I feel delirious.

  “You’re the sexiest woman alive,” he growls, so much force in his voice I actually believe it.

  “Why?”

  “You know me—the real me—and you still want to be with me. You make me want to be better, Reese,” he rumbles.

  I smile. “I’m sure most women feel that way about you. You’re a hard man not to want to be with.”

  “Most of the girls I’ve dated just wanted to be seen with me. They never thought beyond fame, beyond money, beyond sex. It’s not the same. Not like the future I see with you,” he whispers, his breath hot against my skin.

  “That sucks, but I’m only a little sorry it didn’t go well in the past. If it worked out with them, I wouldn’t have you now, and—”

  “Fuck yes, you have me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, woman,” he growls.

  God, he’s unlocked a new talent. Now he can turn my body boneless using only words.

  I don’t have much time to consider it though, because in one swift move, I’m flat on my back. Nick’s lips attack mine with an animal fury that has me instantly spellbound.

  His tongue invades my mouth. His eyes invade my soul.

  My arms wind around his neck again, hanging on against a force of nature.

  I moan before his hot mouth even lands on my neck, circling to my shoulders, unraveling me one vicious kiss at a time. With eyes like napalm pools, he flips the nightgown over my head and nips his way to my breast, marking me.

  I try to regain my senses.

  No easy task, even moving my hand to stroke up and down his bare chest, and feeling thankful he sleeps in only boxers.

  His mouth covers one nipple, overwhelming me with just his tongue and a single square inch of captured skin until his fingers wander over my other breast.

  “You know what you are?” he demands, baring his teeth.

  “Already yours,” I whimper, swallowing thickly as his fingers march down my belly, skimming my thigh, bending in to brush the crease between my legs.

  The answer must satisfy him—for exactly two seconds.

  Because I arch up, fusing our bodies together in just the right place.

  His raging length flicks against my folds, teasing me into submission, even through his boxers and my panties.

  I gasp.

  He sucks my other breast in a searing ring of teeth, only releasing it when I give him a shrill sigh.

  “You...you weren’t supposed to stop,” I whine.

  He chuckles, shifting up to kiss me just long enough to taste my mouth.

  “You didn’t have to stop that either,” I whisper.

  “I didn’t, but I do love your frustration. It’s part of the fun, darling,” he growls, those green eyes turning wolfish, smug, hellbent on blowing me apart.

  “No fai—”

  He doesn’t let me finish. His mouth seizes my other breast.

  “Ohh.”

  He strokes his tongue across my areola.

  “Ohhhh.”

  He kisses below my breast, down my stomach, diving lower. He licks a steaming line across my waist, sinking between my legs with a speed that makes me tremble in raw anticipation.

  His finger finds my clit and circles it like a prowling wolf. It’s only when I’m panting, trying to grind back at his hand—begging—that he pushes down with one brute knuckle while his tongue traces my seam and then—

  Destroyed.

  Possibly for life.

  Whimpering, I work my nails into the sheet, my hips instinctively arching up to meet every explosive fire-brush of his tongue.

  He flicks it deeper, more intent in every thrust, working his mouth in ways that leave me bewildered. However he does it, I don’t care.

  I just want more, matching each thrust with my hips.

  “Nick...” My nails scratch at the sheets. My thighs tighten around him, desperately trying to hold him closer. “God, Nick!”

  Not enough.

  I let go of the sheet and desperately reach for his boxers even as my O bites through my core. My hand catches his waistband and I’m yanking them down, fighting my own release before it comes full force.

  I want him inside me. I want his molten heat. I want his greed, his fury, every steaming drop from his balls.

  He moves so we’re face-to-face again and kisses me.

  “I want you. Now,” I whisper, pronouncing that singular word like a prayer.

  His tongue pries my mouth open with a hot grunt as he slips inside me.

  Tonight, the sweetness is gone.

  We’re connected in all the feral ways, driven out of our
minds for each other. A shared madness burns through every nerve as his hips go to work, chiseling pleasure through my flesh.

  He binds me to him with his muscular arms as the harsh impact of his hips shakes me to the bone.

  My nails scrape his back, urging him on, feeling him taking me hard enough to leave a few well-earned bruises. My teeth find his shoulder right before I go off, aching to mark him like he’s branded me.

  Coming! I muffle a killing scream against his skin the first time I go off.

  And he just keeps thrusting, harder and deeper, his own lust an unholy fever. He crashes against me, never letting me down from the high, just fanning my flames as his own fire scorches his blood.

  Holy shit. This man.

  Nothing will ever be more perfect.

  “Goddammit, Reese,” he snarls sometime later. Sweat beads on his brow. His eyes alone could probably knock me up right now.

  My legs fuse around him, and I can feel another climax building like a caldera in my core. Rocking gives way to frantic thrusts.

  “Reese!” he calls darkly.

  I arch with him, pressing my nails into his skin, throwing my head back and hissing with ecstasy as he slams into me one last time. Every bit of him swells and sweeps me away.

  I reach up with one tense hand, my fingers scratching his neck, begging him to let go, let go.

  Join me in the storm.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” His voice drops an octave and he rasps out slurred curses.

  Then there’s just this throbbing, grinding, blistering wave that whites out my vision.

  My body clenches. We knot together. I think we share one pulse, rippling in sinful delight, flesh bound in ways I never knew it could.

  It lasts for a sweet eternity, and he holds me tighter as he collapses gently.

  I wrap my still-shaking legs around him, gingerly rubbing his thighs.

  “Bad news. You can’t leave,” I joke, but I don’t just mean the way he sexed me into oblivion.

  “Never dream of it, sweetheart. If I ever run, you have every reason to shoot me on sight,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine, a preview of the slow-burn kiss that claims what’s left of me.

  22

  War Stories (Nick)

  After talking, we decide we should clean up this Will Frisk mess as much as possible before approaching my brother and HR about us.

  It’s not as easy as a simple talk.

  At least one of us will have to make a clean break from Brandt Ideas—and if it’s me, that may mean Brandt Dreams, too. Brandt Ideas is still the parent company.

  Neither of us needs a career switch while we’re dealing with a menace. With Abby not talking, we have no clue what the bastard wants.

  He’s called Reese a couple of times, probing her, asking to see Millie ever since our standoff in the coffee shop. He backs off when she gives the conditions—in public, with me supervising.

  Of course, he always dodges out.

  I’m not worried about unwanted visits from Frisk since the girls stay with me now. But I’ll be damned if he ever breathes the same oxygen as Reese or Millie without me.

  I’m also sick as hell of him prolonging our secret.

  I’m ready for Reese to be around the way Paige is for Grandma’s family dinners. I’m ready to wake up to her every day and let one last look at her face put me to sleep.

  I don’t want to keep her hidden like a dirty secret, and I also don’t want anyone else figuring it out before it’s on our terms.

  Until Abby’s situation gets cleaned up, what I want doesn’t matter.

  I’ve decided to let my own impatience run wild, tracking him down on my own. I’ll see what I can find.

  Propping my feet up on my desk, I pick up the phone to call the project manager at the construction company.

  “Mr. Brandt, how are you doing?” a gruff voice answers.

  “I’m good, George. I need a favor.”

  “Okay?”

  “I want to do a walkthrough of the Winthrope site this week. I’m just not sure when I’ll be able to get to it. Can you send me the work schedule for the week?” I ask.

  “I can, but...why do you need the schedule for a walkthrough?”

  “I’ll know who I’m talking to if I have questions. I’ll eventually need each week’s schedule for accounting to verify billing, anyhow.”

  “No problem, boss. I’ll send it right over. The guys on the site can answer plenty of questions for you, but if anything seems off or you don’t think you’re getting enough out of them, call me.”

  “Will do. Thanks.”

  The only questions I have aren’t about construction.

  True to his word, George has a two-week work schedule sitting in my inbox within the hour, and apparently Will the Jackass himself is working today.

  I run downstairs expecting to hop in an Uber, but Reese comes in just as I’m going out. She’s back early from taking Ward to the Naperville suburbs for a client meeting.

  She grins at me. “Hi.”

  I scan the lobby to make sure we’re alone, pull her to me, press my lips to her forehead, and release her too quickly. We can’t risk being busted.

  “Where are you off to?” she asks.

  Fuck. I thought I could go and get back before she knew I was gone. There’s no way she’ll be okay with me snooping around Frisk on my own.

  “I was just going to my place to pick up my car,” I say, adjusting my tie.

  She lifts an eyebrow. “Your car? What’s up?”

  I shrug. “Rough day. Feeling restless. I thought I’d get behind the wheel for a change. You want to give me a lift home?”

  “Sure!”

  We walk to the parking garage.

  “I don’t have any pickups or deliveries for a while. Let me drive your car today?”

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I need some alone time today to unwind.”

  “Oh—right.” Her face tightens and her voice is guarded.

  My eyes dart around the garage.

  No one’s around, but shit, I have to get this worked out. I pull her close, wrapping both arms around her waist, and lean over so my lips almost touch her ear.

  “You know how I feel about you. Nothing’s wrong. I promise. I just need to work through some company crap,” I tell her, brushing my lips over hers.

  She doesn’t pull away. She also doesn’t melt against me like she usually does, either.

  “So it’s not an annoying chauffeur and her super annoying niece completely invading your space kind of thing?” she whispers.

  I can’t help but smirk because it’s ridiculous to think that.

  “Fuck no. Also, my driver-girlfriend is way more infuriating than her niece.”

  She punches me with a laugh. I know we’re okay.

  “I wouldn’t trade her for the world, though,” I say.

  She smiles like the sunrise.

  “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Reese.”

  Her cheeks glow like roses as I slide my fingers under her chin, tilting her gaze to mine.

  “I thought you’d be used to it by now.”

  She giggles. “Right. Like I’ll ever get used to someone like you saying things like that to me.”

  “Bull. I barely deserve you,” I throw back.

  “Nick, if we don’t go now, I’m going to kiss you right here, and...I won’t care who sees it.”

  I survey the area again. Fuck it.

  I steal a kiss with the force of a thousand suns.

  “More tonight,” I whisper, hoping I can wait for tonight. I’m tempted to make a mad dash into the penthouse with her when we pick up the car.

  Thankfully, I check my baser instincts as she drops me off at the parking garage and keeps going.

  Aside from two immaculate high-end cars, I keep an eight-year-old SUV for the times when I don’t want to be noticed.

  Like today.

  It takes over half an hour to get across town and pull up to the construct
ion site just as a beat-up vehicle I recognize from the ugly meeting at Sweeter Grind pulls out.

  Dammit. I don’t stop, opting to follow Frisk instead. We drive for nearly twenty minutes in meandering Chicago traffic.

  I’m careful to stay two cars behind him so he doesn’t notice me.

  He finally pulls into another worksite—more of a demolition site, really—an old warehouse that’s half torn apart.

  I pull into a gas station on the corner across the street, park next to the air meter, grab the hose, and kneel beside my tire to see what happens. A few burly men in sunglasses come out and load boxes into Will’s trunk a minute later from another car.

  Will stands in front of his truck, nervously peering from side to side like he’s on watch. The untrained eye wouldn’t notice, but I watched Iranian special forces doing the same thing on satellite streams plenty of times, never knowing they were about to have a submarine-launched drone up their ass.

  Just like the Iranians guarding their black ops, Frisk doesn’t know he’s being watched like a hawk.

  The guys go back inside the warehouse. Will looks around one more time, nods to himself, and gets back in his pickup, stubbing out a cigarette with his boot.

  That’s my cue. I hang the hose up and hop back in the SUV. I expect him to head back to the Winthrope worksite. He’s on the manifest for the whole day.

  He doesn’t turn around, though, and keeps driving instead.

  A few miles down the road, he pulls into a tobacco shop.

  I sit in the turning lane until he’s out of his car and inside the store before I swing into the parking lot. I hop out of the SUV, open my trunk, and grab the tire iron.

  Slipping the flat end under his trunk, I pop it open and cut across the tape on the top of the first box, wrestling it open.

  Towels? They’re hotel quality, neatly stacked and imprinted with swirly patterns along the sides.

  What the fuck? Frisk was awfully nervous for a guy loading towels into his trunk.

  There has to be more to this.

  Throwing caution aside, I start digging. It takes several rows before I hit something harder toward the bottom, grabbing what feels like a block of cheese.

  I frown. When my hand comes up holding it, my jaw nearly hits the fucking floor.

  It’s one of at least twenty white cocaine bricks holding the towels up. I move the next towel to find the same thing.