“You promise?”
“You have my word.”
Our lips meet, and our mouths turn instantly frantic, taking on a desperate edge that fuels our interactions. The insatiable desire he evokes in me. A gnawing hunger. His tongue sweeps inside, filling me, claiming me.
He lowers us to the bed and I tumble on top of him before he turns me over and I’m trapped under him. He pulls away and brushes my hair back before staring down at me. “So beautiful.”
I touch my fingers to his face. “You too.”
“I know you have a hard time believing this, but you are the best thing that ever happened to me. My most precious possession.”
He means it. I know this deep down in the pit of my stomach. “And you’re mine.”
“Now I’m going to fuck you. Own your body.”
My thighs tighten around his hips and I arch. “Yes.”
He moves, levering up and kneeling before reaching for the straps of my dress and peeling them down my body. I lift up, and he rids me of the silky fabric before stripping off his shirt, and unbuckling his belt. Slowly he pulls it from the loops, like he’s giving me my own private show. With deliberate movements he unbuttons and unzips his pants and they slip down, displaying the magnificent cut of his lean hips and flat stomach.
My mouth waters. I can barely believe he’s mine.
He settles on top of me, and I run my hands down his muscled back, loving the tense and flex as I touch him. He kisses me, slow and deep, unrestrained. The ghost of my dead fiancé evaporates, leaving nothing but Michael and me.
As it should be. As I want it to be. But most important, as I need it to be.
Michael is my life now. My priority. My love.
His mouth slants, and our kiss grows hungry.
He strums over my nipple, plucking at the hard peak, rolling and pinching and pulling until I moan into him.
He groans and rears back. “I want to take this slow.” He shucks his pants the rest of the way down, taking his underwear along with him until he’s blissfully naked. “But I need you too much right now.”
My body keens at his words. Because I want him to need me as much as I need him, and tonight, it finally sinks in that he truly does. That he is as lost without me as I am without him. I lift my hips in offering. “Please.”
He growls and climbs up my body, kissing a trail in his wake. “I’m going to fuck your throat.”
I shudder. I love when he just takes what he wants. When he uses me for his pleasure.
I part my lips, and wait. He straddles my head, and braces himself on the headboard before pushing his straining cock past my lips.
His thick erection presses deep into my mouth and I lie there, letting him do what he will. He doesn’t want performance. He wants surrender. And I’ll give him nothing less. He fills my throat, cutting off my air supply before he stills. I relax my throat around him, fighting against my gag reflex. I rest my fingers on his thighs, and close my eyes, willing and accepting.
He pulls back and then thrusts forward, stretching me to maximum capacity.
He lets loose a low, guttural curse, and retreats, only to advance once again.
Over and over.
I surrender to him, completely, letting my mouth and throat communicate the depth of my love for him.
He pulls back, and pops from my lips before he moves down my body to look at me. I shiver with lust, recognizing that feral look in his eyes.
He moves between my legs, grips my hips, and slams into me, leaving me gasping and panting. He covers me. Takes my wrists and clasps them in his strong hands, squeezing until I’m confined under him. Unable to do anything, but take his hard, brutal thrusting.
I’m captured. And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be in this world.
He growls, low in my ear. “Nothing feels as good as you tight around me.”
“Yes.” My body catches fire as he moves ruthlessly inside me.
“Mine.” The word is harsh.
“Always,” I pant back.
The orgasm barrels fast upon me. I clench my fingers, fighting the release, not ready for it to end. Because I feel it. It finally sinks in that there’s no barrier between us.
He’s fucking me like I’m his salvation.
“Michael, god, Michael.” I want to claw at his back, but I can’t because he’s restrained me so completely I can only move my hips in a hard, rocking rhythm that matches his own.
“That’s right, sugar, I want you to come hard on my cock.” His voice is a low rumble that breaks me.
The climax explodes through me, shaking my whole body, stunning me silent. It rolls and crashes over me, going on and on and on.
I never want it to end. And I work my hips harder and harder into him. Wanting somehow to meld him to me.
Another orgasm crests and I cry out, arching as my muscles clamp around him, ripping his own shuddering climax from him.
We move like that, not wanting to break the connection for endless minutes, surging in tiny, pulsing shock waves of pleasure.
I don’t know how much time passes as we drift along in a cloud of pure bliss, but he finally stirs, rising to his elbows to look down at me.
He brushes my mouth with his. “There’s something else I need.”
“Anything.” I’m so content I would promise him the entire universe if I could deliver.
He whispers, “I need permanent. I need you to be permanent.”
My heart gives a hard thump against my chest. “I am.”
He rolls away and leaves the bed. “Stay here.”
I close my eyes. As though I could even move. As if I’d go anywhere without him.
I hear him rummaging around, but I’m too lazy to see what he’s doing. Too boneless to do anything but lie here and wait for him to return.
He climbs onto the bed and my lashes flutter but he says, “No, keep your eyes closed.”
I relax back into the bed.
He places something on the dip between my ribs, something small, like a box.
My belly does a strange little flip. I stir. But he presses me back down. “Michael?”
He strokes my hair. “Now I want you to listen. Since the day I met you, I knew you were it for me. You are the most challenging, frustrating, fascinating and compelling woman I have ever met. And I’m not willing to be without you.”
My throat closes over and I start to tremble.
“I love you and want us to have a life together.” He leans down and brushes his lips over mine. “Open your eyes.”
All traces of sleepiness is gone and my lids snap open. He’s smiling down at me.
There is a jeweler’s box resting where my ribs dip. Open, a huge emerald-cut platinum ring is resting in the center.
Tears immediately fill my eyes and spill onto my cheeks. Shocked, I look up at him.
He brushes the tears away, a gesture he’s done a thousand times since he’s known me, since the first night I met him. But now, it’s tears of happiness. Tears of joy. He licks his tongue over my bottom lip. “So, Layla Hunter, girl of my dreams, love of my life. Will you marry me?”
I swallow hard. I’d never thought I’d do this again, I’m terrified, I’m elated and overwhelmed. But I want it. I have never wanted anything more in my entire life. I nod and choke out, “Yes, Michael.”
He takes the ring box from my stomach, and plucks the diamond from the center where it was resting. “Give me your hand.”
I raise my hand and he slips the ring over my finger.
It’s a perfect fit. “Michael.”
I’m incapable of speech.
I look down at my hand, now adorned with this incredible ring. It shines in the light, an indestructible stone.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
I finally find my voice. “Are you kidding?” I shift just to watch it sparkle. “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. But, how…” I trail off. The stone is at least two carats, maybe even more, and a bright white color
shows its high quality. Rings like this cost a fortune and Michael is a homicide detective.
He grins at me. “The stone was my grandma’s. She gave it to my mom with explicit instructions that it was to be given to me if I found a woman worthy of it. I did. Apparently, it’s a tradition and one day you’re supposed to pass it down to your first-born grandchild.”
And that makes it all the more special. Because it’s an heirloom and his family trusts me to have it. “I will treasure it always.”
“It’s a good thing I said something to my mom—I wasn’t going to tell anyone—but at the last minute I wanted a female perspective on the setting. Out went the very respectable one carat stone and in went this. But everything else is the same.” He rubs a hand over my stomach. “I figure we can use the money I saved for furniture when we get a bigger place.”
We’d been talking about it—feeling his condo was getting too small—and I’d recently put my place on the market. It had been a bittersweet day.
Once I’d dreamed of suburbia, but I’d abandoned those notions. Because of his job Michael has to live in the city of Chicago. We talked about moving to one of those areas on the outer limits, pressed up against the suburbs where we could have a house and a yard for Belle, but it turns out I’m a city girl at heart.
I like the chaos of it, of being in the heart of things, even when it sucks to get your groceries because of traffic. Between the sales of both our places, we’ll be able to get a nice, townhouse with at least three bedrooms that will be perfect.
For at least a while until we decide it’s time to have kids. A small smile lifts my lips. Look at me, planning a future. “Sounds perfect.”
“I love you, Layla.” He kisses me and I cling to him for dear life, this man who’s brought me back from the dead and made me complete.
When he pulls back, I say, “I love you too.”
And I do, so, so much. I start to laugh.
“What?” He shakes his head at me.
“I just got engaged on Valentine’s day.”
“You did.” He leans back and props himself up against a pillow and headboard.
“That’s the most normal thing in the world.”
He laughs. “I suppose that’s true, although I’m guessing we shouldn’t tell our parents that I asked you at a BDSM sex party.”
I shrug. “Well, god, we’re not completely boring.”
He laughs again.
I raise my brow. “Did you ask my dad?”
“Of course I did.”
My fiancé, so traditional, when he’s not being all dominating and bossy. “What did he say?”
His expression turns serious. “He said he thanked God every day you found love again. And your mom cried.”
“I’m thankful every day too.”
“Me too, sugar.”
That nickname he gave me the night we met when I refused to tell him my name never fails to make me a little weak in the knees. I bite my lip.
He narrows his gaze. “What?”
I sit up and bounce on the bed. “Is it wrong I want to be a total girl right now and go screaming to my friends that I’m engaged.”
His expression fills with amusement. “Sounds reasonable.”
I giggle. “Can we buy a Bride magazine on the way home?”
“Anything you want, Layla, it’s yours.” He grins. “As long as you ask permission first.”
“Deal.” And just like that I realize I’ve gotten my wish. My secret longing.
Here I am, a normal girl, happy and engaged. I get to pick out placemats and china patterns. I get to try on wedding dresses. I get to drive everyone crazy talking about wedding plans.
I have everything I have ever wanted, with just the right amount of kinky, twists to keep life interesting.
Ruby
I take off, forcing myself not to run. Running away from Chad will only make him think he’s right about me. Which he is, but I don’t want him to know it.
Unfortunately, not running allows him to catch up to me. He grasps me around the arm and hauls me back, pushing me against the wall.
“What?” I snap at him.
His hold gentles. “Hey. Hold on.”
I shake my head. “Please. I just want to go home.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice is deep and soothing as his expression searches mine.
“Don’t be.” I wave my free hand. “It’s not a big deal, I am tired and ready to go to bed is all. I’ve had enough sex party for the night.”
His hand is heavy on my arm, too warm against my skin. I want to rip it away but that would be telling. And I don’t want him to see any more than he has.
His gaze dips to my mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that to you. I apologize. I don’t know you, and shouldn’t presume.”
See, it was a guess. It doesn’t mean anything. He didn’t see anything.
The smart thing to do here is nod, accept his apology and brush it off. Never to be spoken of, or thought of, again. And when I open my mouth that’s my intention, but my words don’t cooperate. “But that’s still what you think?”
Again he searches my expression, clearly looking for something that eludes me. “What would you like me to say here, Ruby? Tell me.”
His tone has that certain something I’ve heard in Leo’s and Michael’s voices. Something that stills me. I shake my head. “I don’t know. The truth?”
“It is what I think.” His hand falls away.
I find I miss it. It felt good on my skin, even though I wanted him to stay away. I’m a mess, but I don’t know how to stop my spiral. “Why?”
He shrugs. “I just have that feeling, call it instinct.”
I lick my lips. “Is it because I’m not sexy like Layla and Jillian?”
Why did I say that? Why did I even think it? I’m plenty good looking. I know for a fact I’m pretty, but I didn’t use the word pretty. I used the word sexy.
And that’s what tonight has brought home to me. Why I have felt so out of sorts, jealous of my best friend, jealous of the way her man looks at her. There’s a part of me that believes I’ll never have what Layla or Jillian have, because I lack that certain spark, that certain effortless sexiness that seems to come so natural to them.
Chad’s blue eyes narrow. “Why do you think you’re not sexy?”
I shrug. What can I possibly say? “I was wondering if that’s it?”
He steps close to me, and cups my jaw, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. His eyes have darkened and his expression is intense and serious. “You’re sexy, Ruby. You’re actually pretty fucking gorgeous. You just fight it too hard.”
My throat is tight. A part of me wants nothing more than to end this conversation, but I find I can’t. Because another part of me wants to understand what he sees. I don’t know why. It’s like a compulsion. “Why do you think that?”
“You tell me.” His thumb brushes over the line of my jaw.
“I don’t know.” My words are soft, barely above a whisper.
“Am I right?”
I close my eyes and nod.
“I—”
I don’t know what the rest of his sentence is because Layla screams my name, “Ruubbyy!”
My lids fly open and Chad’s hand drops away. He steps back just as Layla comes flying down the hall in her filmy white dress.
I straighten from the wall. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She tackles me, and I see Michael from behind her, watching with that love-soaked affection on his face. She laughs. “I’m engaged.”
My heart drops into my stomach and my chest twists tight.
I hate myself for it.
I plaster on my hugest smile and squeal. “Oh my god, Laylay! Congratulations.”
She pulls away from me and her expression is filled with an excitement that lights up her whole face. She holds out her left hand. “Look!”
I grasp her fingers and stare down at a gorgeous ring. It’s platinum and classic, and the huge emerald-
cut stone is set high. It’s one of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen and exactly right for Layla. The smile on my face is so wide it hurts, but on the inside a part of me is dying.
I’m a horrible friend.
“Wow. That is a serious ring.” I look at Michael, this darkly gorgeous, intense man that stole my best friend’s heart. “Good job.”
He just shrugs and grins at Layla, shaking his head.
I will be forever grateful for everything he’s done for her. She’s the girl she used to be and so, so much more. And I know that’s because of him. Because he loved her so much, he wouldn’t leave, no matter how hard she tried to push him away.
They deserve every ounce of happiness and I will not begrudge them that because of my own petty issues. As Layla hugs Chad, I walk over to Michael and wrap my arms around him. I kiss his cheeks and feel my eyes tear up. I whisper in his ear, “Thank you for making her so happy.”
He squeezes me tight and says, “I promise she means everything to me.”
There’s no doubt in my mind. “I know.”
As he releases me, Jillian and Leo appear, and then there’s more screaming and hugging, and back slapping.
Jillian grabs Layla and the two of them bounce around in their little dresses, looking like goddesses and little girls all at the same time.
Jillian laughs. “We’re going to be sisters-in-law!”
“We are!” Layla screeches back.
Leo and Michael kind of roll their eyes at each other, but the big goofy smiles on their faces give them away.
Brandon comes up, and beckons us. “I have four bottles of Dom chilling for just this thing.”
Layla glances at Michael. “Did you tell him?”
“I wanted to make sure you got a proper engagement party.”
Michael always thinks of everything.
Layla bounds over to him, whispers something in his ear that has his arms coming around her, and then she’s kissing him. A raw, dirty, hungry kiss that makes me blush and yearn. Uncomfortable and longing.
I’m so, so happy for her. I promise you I am.
This pit in my stomach, the heaviness in my chest, that’s about me. Not her.
Brandon gestures into the open bar, crowded now since we left. “I have a place reserved. Let’s celebrate.”
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