“You deserve tormenting,” I say, teasing her.
“I know, but I want to give it back to you.”
“You should definitely give it back to me. Any time. All the time.”
She backs me into the corner of the elevator, grabs my wrists and holds them tight at my side, then bends her head to kiss my neck. Only she doesn’t kiss. She bites, and it feels f**king fantastic. I close my eyes, reveling in the sensation. I’m about to respond in kind, but she lets go of my wrists and grabs my hair hard, then pulls. Once.
“There,” she says happily. “Like you do to me.”
“All’s fair in love and war,” I say as the elevator stops. She steps out first but as soon as the doors close, I grab her jeans and pull her back to me, spin her around, and lift her up against the wall in the hallway. She wraps her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck. I push hard against her, grinding my h*ps into hers, kissing her face, her neck, her eyelids, her hair, her earlobes, anywhere on her, until she rasps, “Inside. Now.”
I lower her to the floor, unlock the door and shove it closed. In less than a second her hands are on the zipper of my pants and I’m undoing her jeans, and we are pushing clothes to the floor, and nearly tripping as we grasp at each other while moving into the kitchen. I lift her up on the counter, pull off her boots and her jeans, and then slide my hand between her legs as she parts them for me.
“You’re already wet,” I whisper in her ear, as I rub my fingers against her, and she arches into me.
“Did you expect anything less?”
I shake my head, and slip off her panties, tossing them somewhere behind me. I don’t bother to take off my shirt, or step out of my pants. I need to be inside her now. I tug her closer to the edge of the counter then sink into her, and she bites her lip, then takes a sharp breath, followed by a long, low sigh of pleasure as I fill her.
“There are so many ways I need to f**k you, Jill. So many positions, and places, and things to do with your beautiful body,” I tell her as I start to move inside her.
“I know,” she whispers. “All those things you said you’d do to me when we had dinner. And then at the Plaza. I need all of them.”
“You’ll have all of them. And later tonight, I’m going to spend my time making love to you, but right now, I’m going to take you, and it’s going to be hard, and it’s going to be fast.”
Her eyes light up, like she has a secret. “That’s what the hero said in a dirty novel I was reading. I want it like that. Please do it like that now,” she pants, then grabs my ass and pulls me deeper into her.
I do as I promised, gripping her h*ps as I drive into her, slamming her onto me. She grasps me with her legs, and holds onto my shoulders, then rests her forehead against mine, her breath on my face, and I love it. I love how she can’t hold back, how she wants this as much as I do. How she needs it. Soon, she is moaning with abandon, moving faster with me, and I start to lose myself in her noises, her sounds, in the way she tugs hard on my hair, and shouts yes many times over as she comes, and I chase her there. Then she wraps her arms around my waist in a tight embrace. “Davis, I love you so much. I can’t imagine being without you either,” she whispers, and I might be the happiest man alive right now.
“Good,” I tell her. “Because you won’t be.”
After a quick bathroom break, I return to the kitchen, and she’s made herself at home, perched on a black leather barstool at the counter. She’s still wearing her sweater, but nothing on the bottom.
“That’s a good look for you,” I say. “It’ll be even better if you take the top off.”
“Consider it done,” she says, and pulls off her sweater and her bra, and crosses her legs. She looks so unbelievably sexy, all na**d and blond and just-been-fucked, sitting on my barstool, in my kitchen, in my home.
“I have something for you. For us,” I say, then open the stainless steel fridge and remove a bottle of champagne. “To celebrate your first Broadway show. Your first ever performance on the Great White Way.”
I pop open the bottle, pour two glasses, and sit down next to her. I hold up a glass to toast. “To many, many more.”
“To many more,” she repeats, then takes a sip.
I tip my forehead to the stool. “You look good on that stool. You look good in my home. You should make it yours.”
She gives me a curious look, as a grin plays on her lips. “Are you asking me to move in?”
I shrug a shoulder playfully. “You said your roommate’s moving out soon. I figured why not.”
“So I should move in since it’s hard to find a place in New York?” she jokes.
“That. And because it makes it easier to f**k you, and make love to you, and kiss you, and hold you, and touch you, and be with you,” I say, then I pause, taking a beat, so she knows I mean this from the heart. “And because I love you.”
She hops off the stool, wraps her arms around me and kisses me wildly, so I take that as a yes.
Chapter 25
Four Months Later
Jill
“You are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen,” I say as I hand Kat a tulip bouquet, all in purple, her favorite color.
She whispers a thanks, takes a breath, her shoulders rising and falling, as if she’s prepping herself for this momentous step.
“You’re not nervous, are you?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Good,” I say with a smile.
The string quartet begins Pachelbel’s Canon, and that’s my cue as the maid of honor to walk down the aisle, a white runner spread out across the lawn at Le Belle Vie, an inn in Mystic, Connecticut, where Kat grew up. It is June, and she and Bryan are getting married outside under the warm afternoon sun on a beautiful blue-sky Saturday, the ocean waves lapping the nearby shore.
When I reach the steps of the gazebo, I take my spot across from the groom and his best man. Bryan looks so handsome in his tux, and so happy as the wedding march begins and Kat walks down the aisle. He only has eyes for her, and she for him, as it should be.
She’s radiant, with her hair pinned up in a gorgeous twist, in the perfect dress she found at the bridal shop in the West Village. She reaches the gazebo and stands across from Bryan, and the two of them are so ridiculously happy. I catch a glimpse of Davis in the third row, looking as classy as ever in a button-down shirt and tie that I want to unknot later.