Perfect Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  Even so, I can’t resist a tease.

  “You could have just...not left me in the first place,” I say, trying and failing not to smile.

  “Biggest mistake of my life. I hope I’m still making it right,” he growls, kissing my neck.

  “Hmm, I suppose you convinced me the day you proposed.”

  “You weren’t sure of me until then?” he says, pulling back and catching me in his gaze.

  “I needed time,” I admit. “I was a little afraid if something else popped up, you might skip out again.”

  “Bull. You’ll need a herd of samurai sharks to make me leave you or this baby alone again—and even then I’ll go down swinging.” He leans over, pressing his lips to mine.

  “Samurai sharks, huh?” I blink.

  He grins.

  I answer him by leaning in, deepening the kiss, giving up my mouth.

  Oh, holy hell.

  Without breaking our kiss, his fingers find my shin and glide up it until he’s drawing circles on the crevice of my thigh.

  Releasing my mouth, he stamps a tender kiss on my forehead.

  I close my eyes, holding my breath in delirious anticipation.

  His hand edges so wickedly close to where I want it—where I need him—but he’s still so far away.

  My next harsh, shaking breath makes his fingers crawl closer, until they’re under my satin panties. He traces up and down my seam—once, twice, three times.

  Each more agonizing than the last.

  “Is there a room on this thing?” I whimper.

  Without a word, he picks me up in the blanket and carries me to the back of the plane where—Jesus, I was just kidding, but apparently it’s real.

  A gorgeous bed awaits, surrounded by window seats. That’s where we topple over just as the plane charges down the tarmac.

  I dig my nails into his neck, desperate for more but too afraid to ask.

  His fingers return to the heat between my legs.

  I release a jagged breath.

  Prepare for takeoff. No, I don’t mean the plane.

  He unknots my hand from the blanket and takes it in his free hand. His finger shoves my panties aside, slipping into me up to the knuckle.

  “Nick,” I whimper.

  His thumb presses my clit, tracing mad circles as his finger pumps in and out, expertly poised on the spot that always touches off an earthquake.

  My eyes pinch shut and I’m gone.

  Surrendering to madness, to ecstasy, to him.

  He presses a soft kiss to my temple, even as his hand works me over like the devil.

  “Benefits of flying private. You convinced yet?”

  “Yes!” I hiss, my fingers tugging at the sheets, bracing for the storm he’s putting into me at thirty thousand feet.

  With his eyes shimmering like forests, just as wild and forbidden, his tongue slides between my lips. There’s a hunger in his kiss, especially in the worn moan he drags out of me.

  Every time his hand moves, I’m arching into it, sighing against his growl, each one louder than the last.

  Somehow, I find the poise to undo the top buttons on his crisp white shirt.

  “Fun fact: I’m not taking your wedding dress off until we’re at our place,” he says with a wild gleam in his eye.

  “Whyyyy?” I grind against his hand. “I want you. Here. Now.”

  “I want you, too, but I always swore I’d carry my bride over a proper threshold,” he says, pressing his forehead against mine.

  Damn him.

  I’m tempted to tell him to leave the stupid thing on and take me under it, but the way his hands glide up and down my bare skin when we make love is half the fun.

  “I’m burning up. I’ll never survive three hours of this,” I say.

  He moves his hand again, frigging my clit with a friction that makes me see stars.

  “So burn for me, Reese. Come real sweet for me first and come harder when we land,” he snarls, a delicious darkness in his eyes.

  “But I...I need more,” I whine again, aching to seduce him, to make him lose control.

  “I took your virginity in the back of a car. We’re doing our wedding night right.” His hand moves away from the magic spot.

  “Ughhh. You weren’t supposed to stop.”

  “Sit up.”

  I obey. What’s he doing?

  Nick disappears under the blanket. He removes my shoes one at a time.

  “Wh-what are you doing?”

  The satin panties coming off are a clue. So is the way he pushes my legs apart, kissing up my thighs, crawling under my dress like a man possessed.

  Hot breath and the perfect scratch of beard graze my wetness.

  The tip of his tongue presses against my clit and then slides back, right before thrusting so deep it makes me gasp.

  “Oh—oh holy flipping Mackerel.” My thighs pinch his head, and yes, I’m well aware I’ve reverted back to middle school slang, thank you.

  The speech parts of my brain belong to Nick Brandt right now, just like the rest of my body.

  He’s on a mission tonight.

  And he doesn’t quit until my whole body trembles, playing every throbbing inch of me with that tongue.

  Only when I’m gasping, on the precipice, he stops.

  All I can feel is this heavy silence—this reverence—and then a reminder that no matter what happens, I’ll always, always be his.

  Because Nick Brandt’s mouth brings me off so hard with my clit caught between his teeth, I become one long scream.

  Pleasure bolts through me, swift as a sword.

  At thirty thousand feet, I think I qualify as a shooting star. You’d better believe I shine for my husband.

  When it’s over, he kisses his way back out from under the tangle of my dress.

  He presses the skirt back down with an innocence that makes me laugh before placing another one of those entirely dirty kisses on my forehead.

  I’m still vibrating as he pulls me into his arms.

  “Told you the dress wouldn’t come off until I got you home,” he says with a smugness that’d be rude if it weren’t so true.

  “That’s...going to be hard to top.” I collapse against his chest.

  I’m wrong, though.

  It’s not hard to top at all four hours later in Florida.

  When his huge body eclipses mine, when he’s baring his teeth, when he’s got his hand gently pressed to my throat, pinning me to the mattress with every sharp thrust of his hips.

  “Reese!” he grinds out, all green-eyed fire and sharp curses.

  I swear.

  Nothing, nothing, nothing will ever compare to the awed sound of my name on his lips when he comes inside of me, clinging to me long in the night, one round of passion blurring into the next.

  It’s a nice surprise to find a second wind after the longest, happiest day of my life, and it lasts deep into the night.

  The next morning, I wake up with Nick propped up on his arm, staring at me.

  “Good morning,” I venture. “Is something wrong?”

  “Fuck no, besides ruining the view of my beautiful wife asleep.” He chuckles when I softly slap his cheek. “How was your wedding night?”

  I roll to my side and kiss his lips.

  “Perfection. Yours?”

  “Incredible.” He pushes hair out of my eyes and leaves his hand in my hair. “What are we doing today?”

  “I could go for an encore,” I say shyly.

  He kisses me. “We could always go for that. This is also one of my favorite places in the world and I want to share it with you.”

  “I’ve never been to the Keys,” I say. “Okay, let’s do all the things you love, especially if it involves a beach. I’ve never been on a real Florida beach before.”

  Growling with delight, he presses his lips to mine.

  “Let me guide your way, sweetheart,” he whispers.

  “You’re hot enough so I’ll actually pay attention on your tour,” I tease
. “What did you do when you were here before?

  His gaze sharpens. “Last time, I drank cheap tequila at my condo up north and wished like hell you were here.”

  My heart breaks a little. I smile.

  “Before, I mean.”

  “I do a lot of fishing when I’m here. There’s a sunset festival downtown that’s a lot of fun, too. Otherwise, I used to lounge on the beach, but we’re both off alcohol and caffeine until the baby comes. If you’re up for a day trip, we could drive up to Daytona so you can see the Speedway.”

  “I do love cars,” I say, biting my bottom lip in thought. “How about you teach me to fish first?”

  “With pleasure,” he rumbles, helping me out of bed and into a very slow, very intense shower together.

  After brunch, we head back to the beach house. There’s a private beach behind it—actually a delightful rarity for the Keys. We take turns lathering each other in sunscreen, and Nick shows me how to cast the line from our spot on the balmy sands.

  “I didn’t know billionaires made such great fishermen.”

  “I hooked you, didn’t I?”

  “Oh my God, stop. At least let the baby come before you start cracking dad jokes.” I stick my tongue out at him.

  “Fine. It’s relaxing,” he says with an unrepentant smile. “You’d be surprised how many big ideas started off with someone soaking in a view like this.”

  He isn’t wrong. The ocean ripples, almost as turquoise as his eyes in this sun.

  I sit in his lap and pull his arms snug around me.

  We stay like that for nearly an hour before the rod bends.

  I perk up in excitement. We reel our catch in together.

  Okay, it’s mostly Nick reeling, but I help.

  The fish that emerges from the shimmering waters is huge, flapping its tail so hard Nick goes into caveman hunter mode. I let go when I realize I’m in the way.

  “Wow. What is that thing?”

  “Dinner,” he says with a wink.

  “What? We can’t kill it.”

  He stares at me. “What do you think fishing is?”

  “Put it back!” I urge, rubbing his arm.

  He continues struggling with the rod and reel, but the monster fish has left the water.

  “Can’t leave the hook in its mouth,” he says. “Goddamn. This thing must be over ten pounds. Can you get a picture before I send it home?”

  I grab my phone and snap a few pics of Nick removing the hook from the sea beast with his million-dollar smile. It flops like it’s break-dancing on the sand. He shoves it back under the waves, where it disappears.

  “That could have been a feast. You’re welcome.” He shakes his head.

  “Sorry.” I smile at him.

  “I’m joking, darling. You don’t eat bonefish.”

  “Why?” I stare back at the ocean, where I swear the fish leaps up one more time in gratitude before splashing down.

  “Too bony. They taste pretty shitty,” he says.

  “You’re right about one thing—this is relaxing. Reminds me of driving.”

  Later, we do a dinner cruise, sailing into a magnificent red sunset.

  It’s the start of an otherworldly two-week honeymoon that drifts by way too fast. It’s hard to believe this is my life, and harder every time someone stops, stares, and recognizes the Nicholas Brandt, complete with Reeserella.

  Apparently, The Chicago Tea has a bigger circulation than I thought.

  We make it to Daytona to see the races. We also swim with dolphins, explore the islands, and go to a conservatory for injured turtles where Nick drops a donation so big it makes me shed a tear.

  My first trip snorkeling is scary at first, but he’s with me. It’s okay. He never lets go of my hand until I’m good and ready. He even buys a special camera for pictures when we visit an underwater Jesus statue just off Key Largo.

  Our days are filled with museums, conservatories, nature, dream beaches, and wonders I never imagined.

  Our nights are filled with so much sheet-ripping sex it leaves me boneless and amazed. His stamina will always be legend.

  When our last night comes, I can’t believe it.

  We watch tightrope walkers, bag pipers, and banjo players perform at Mallory Square while the sun dips over the sea.

  Nick grabs my hand and leads me to a street vendor where he buys two hulking bags of cloud candy.

  “Two?” I do a double take.

  He pulls pink fluff out of the bag, and I eat from his fingers.

  “One for now, one for later.” We stroll the square collecting souvenirs and head back to the beach house.

  I dump our loot on the coffee table in the living room, shuddering at the thought that I’ll have to pack it before the night ends.

  “Should we hit the beach one last time?” Nick asks, mischief in his eyes.

  I smile. Heat pulses under my cheeks, and I wonder if my head has room for more beautiful memories.

  “Sure thing. Just let me change,” I tell him.

  I slip on a bikini Nick bought me our second day here. Of course, it’s more string than fabric so I haven’t worn it yet. It’s definitely an eyeful for his enjoyment—not that I mind.

  When I step out of the bathroom, he’s in dark-blue trunks, holding a beach towel and the open bag of cotton candy we didn’t finish at the street fair. His eyes drop to my chest and linger.

  He swallows.

  “You finally wore it for me.”

  I bite my lip.

  He steps toward me, closing the space between us. Lacing his fingers through mine, we step out the back door and pad across the warm white sand. He drops the towel and cotton candy far enough away so it won’t get wet.

  I leave him behind, running into the undulating waves.

  Laughing, he treads water, catches me, and pulls me to his broad chest. He rests his hands on my hips and I close my arms around his waist.

  My eyes fall to his lips.

  “Water’s still warm,” he says.

  “Whatever will we do?” I tease.

  He takes my mouth in answer, seizing my bottom lip with his teeth.

  I move my hands down his chest.

  He unties the bikini top and tosses it on the shore. His hands move from my hips to my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples.

  It isn’t enough. It never is with him.

  My head falls back with a sigh, and Nick Brandt does what he’s always done best.

  Worship me.

  He makes me believe—every single time—that I’m truly something precious in his eyes.

  He kisses down my neck, my clavicle, marching down until his mouth catches my areola.

  God.

  He sucks, nips, and lavishes.

  Moaning, I slide my hands under his waistband and cup his firm ass.

  He picks me up with a low growl, carries me to shore, and lays me on the waiting towel.

  His trunks fall in a heap around his ankles and I feel every delirious inch of his hardness.

  I’m losing my grasp when he drops to his knees, right between my thighs. Flicking off the bikini bottom, he runs his hand over me, teasing two fingers at my entrance.

  “Fuck, you’re ready,” he whispers.

  Before I can even breathe, he’s in.

  For him, I might always be ready.

  I tangle my arms around him and lean up to catch his mouth. His tongue moves in a slow, rising burn against mine, matching the rhythm of his hips.

  We slip into a tempo of crashing flesh and warring teeth and filthy words, and it’s glorious.

  He only breaks our kiss to grip my shoulders—the better to hold me down while his thrusts sweep me away, faster and faster.

  I wrap my legs around him, panting, trying to take him deeper. He’s on me now, harder, the weight of his balls thumping my skin.

  Guttural delight tears up his throat when I tense, when fire ignites in my belly, when I can’t hold back.

  “Oh God!” I push up against him, my pus
sy clenching, fused to his thrusts.

  I go crashing headfirst into white-hot ecstasy with my nails racing down his back, screaming at the stars, and then thrashing, convulsing, shrieking as he joins me in the maelstrom.

  He throbs, mounted deep inside me.

  He shakes, every gorgeous muscle bowing.

  My everything clenches, wishing we could melt together.

  For a little bit of forever, we do, molten and half-crazed, two wild things tearing at each other as he empties himself inside me.

  Holy hell. At this rate, it won’t be long at all before we’ve got more than one kid.

  When sanity returns, he repositions us so I’m on top. We kiss in a slow, wordless meandering of tongues.

  We bask in the afterglow, just breathing, until he picks up the bag of cotton candy and insists on feeding me more.

  He wraps the towel around me.

  “Tomorrow, it’s back to reality,” he says, kissing my neck. “Work, doctor visits, baby planning, making dinner together, being Mrs. Brandt. Ready for the adventure, sweetheart?”

  “Not sure.” I grin. “It’s going to be kinda hard not to jump you all day. With these hormones, I might have to get a set of handcuffs to keep you home.”

  He laughs, swiping a hand over his face.

  “Shit, I can’t believe you said that. I’ve corrupted you.” He kisses me, his eyes dark in the night.

  “No argument. I can’t think of anything better than being your wife,” I say, laying my head against his chest.

  He closes his arms around me and lifts me up so we’re face-to-face. I can’t decide what’s more beautiful—the starscape blazing above us or his emerald eyes, all for me, promising entire worlds.

  Whatever world I choose, as long as I live, it’ll always be the one I inhabit with my bossy, charming, bad-tempered, funny, and unbearably sexy man.

  I’ll always be at the wheel of this life, and he’ll always show me the way.

  “As long as you’re mine, I’m so fucking glad you feel that way,” he says, closing his lips over mine.

  Yeah, forget the stars.

  His eyes beat them, hands down, and they’re filled with the sorcery of love that’s shifted my whole universe.

  For me. For our family. For us.

  I’ve found my perfect grump and I’m his to the end.