Tilting my chin up, I give him a smile.
“We should get married,” he states.
My brows pinch. “Haven’t we already accomplished that? Or is this where you tell me that it was never a legal done-deal thing and all this time we’ve been really lying to people.”
“Oh, it was very legal,” he muses, bending down and kissing me. “However, I know our families are still hoping to have a ceremony to celebrate. Maybe now would be a good time. The weather is decent, my schedule has opened up. We can do it here, New York, wherever you want.”
I consider it, tightening my hold on him. “I think that’s a great idea. But would everyone we’d want to come be able to make it?”
He knows who I’m talking about.
“He’s going through a lot right now,” he comments, raising his shoulders in a loose shrug. “But Zayne’s always there when it matters.”
“And you don’t think it’d upset him?”
He shakes his head. “I really don’t.”
“And Cannon can come too?” I bat my lashes, making him laugh.
“Should have known you’d pull that.” He tugs on my ponytail to tilt my head further back and kiss me again, this one lasting longer than our others. “We can make it as big or as intimate as you’d like. But I want to celebrate this. Us.”
A shiver rolls down my spine. “I like the sound of that.”
“Yeah?”
I nod, gripping his shirt and pulling him toward me again. He backs us up until I’m pressed against the counter with him blocking me in with his body. “What are you doing?”
His hands grip my hips and lift me to sit on the edge of the counter, ignoring the mess I made and focusing only on me. “We have some time to kill before the food is done.”
“And what do you want to do with it?” I smile innocently while his hands go to the hem of my leggings and begin tugging them down. I lift my hips enough for him to pull them past my knees before spreading my thighs and settling himself between them.
With a wicked grin and a gleam lighting up his baby blues, he purrs, “Keep your legs open and let me show you, baby girl.”
And like all the other times, he does exactly as he promises. With one flick of the finger, the button of his jeans pops open quickly followed by the sound of his zipper gliding down. It only takes a few strokes of his fingers dancing along my inner thigh to get me squirming, and a few sensual passes to part me and circle my aching clit until I’m more than ready for him to be inside me fully.
We’ve done this plenty of places in plenty of positions, most that I’ve loved, but the spontaneous need that radiates from him as he lines himself up and enters me in one full thrust is a favorite of mine.
There’s nothing soft or slow about the way he jackknifes into me with urgency, holding onto my hips while I grip the edges of the counter so I don’t fall. It almost matches the time he came home from a meeting with Gordon and bent me over the island after seeing me in the white dress we’d gotten married in. He’d lifted the skirt, pulled down my panties, and told me to hold on while he appreciated every inch of me.
I still think about that day.
Often.
But this. The noises he makes only makes me wetter as he pulls me into him and fucks me harder. One of my arms goes from the counter to his neck, winding around him and pressing our bodies as close together as they can get. Looking down, I watch him enter me and withdraw until he buries his face in my neck and bites down the same moment he goes hilt-deep and lets out a long drown-out groan as he empties himself.
“I love you,” he whispers against my clammy skin, peppering kisses upward until he meets me lips. “How about we take off the rest of our clothes and go for round two? I promise I’ll go slower this time and pay extra attention to that pretty pussy of yours.”
I smile against his lips. “The food is almost done.”
His tongue drags across my bottom lip as he arches into me where he’s still planted, causing me to clench around him. “We can eat after. Replenish our calories.”
“Garrick,” I giggle, playfully swatting his shoulder.
He relents, pulling out and cleaning both of us up. And after my leggings are back on, and the food is out of the fryer, he doesn’t even let me try a piece before he kneels on the floor and makes sure I come twice with his head between my thighs before we’re sprawled across the tile completely naked and making noises that I wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors can hear.
“Marry me, love?” he asks again after laying beside me where we’re lounging sweaty on the floor. He pulls me into his side. “For real this time. No conditions. No two years. I’ll need far more than that.”
I smile.
Feel my heart pull toward him.
And say, “Yes.”
Bonus Scene
Rylee
Age 22
The club is ear piercingly loud and packed so tightly that it’s hard to breathe past the mixture of perfume, cologne, alcohol, and sweat all lingering in the air as people dance. I wish I’d accepted the drink at the bar for some liquid courage but know better than to take things from strangers, which is ironic considering I’m practically here with one.
The text I’d sent earlier to my best friend is plastered in the back of my mind.
Rylee: Tonight is the night.
I put on my best dress, a little black number that shows off my semi-slim legs, the slightest curves of my hips and the small incline of my chest while still leaving something to the imagination.
When Zayne saw me in it, he’d gotten that look—the same one that other guys are giving me right now since
