Chapter 31 The Grand Gesture
the grand gesture [trope]
the rom-com holy grail; typically involves an elaborate, borderline-ridiculous display of love designed to win someone back—or just leave them speechless. success rate: high
“Seriously, what is going on?” I insist, stumbling forward as Rafael’s hands press over my eyes. I can see the light of the streetlamp filtering through his fingers but not much else.
“You do know what a surprise is, don’t you?”
“I don’t love surprises.”
“Well, at least this one won’t last long.” He stops, and after a tentative step, so do I. “We’re here.”
We are? We’ve barely left the backyard. What exactly is this surprise?
His hands are gone, and I blink, watching his house. “Uh… I’m confused.”
“Your surprise is inside.”
I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “Oh? We’re going to your place?”
“We can spend the night, if you’d like.” Wrapping his arms around me, he buries his nose in my hair and inhales. “I’m pretty sure the mattress was bought in the last decade.”
“Fancy,” I tease. “Will I get hotel treatment?”
His hold on me tightens. “You’ll think you’re at the Four Seasons.”
I chuckle, leaning back when he nibbles at my jaw. I can’t even bring myself to care that someone might see. Hell, I want everyone to know about us. I want to write it on the walls, hire one of those cheesy planes to fly a banner across the sky reading “Rafael Gray belongs to Scarlett Moore.”
“Ready for your surprise?” he asks as he pulls me with him. We stumble into the front yard in a cloud of giggles, and, giddy with excitement, I follow him to the door and wait for him to open it.
We step in. Everything’s dark and eerily quiet, but the faint scent of wood and fresh paint fills the air. My curiosity spikes.
“Rafael, what is happening?” I ask, hands up to make sure I don’t walk into a piece of furniture.
“Patience,” he teases, stepping away to fumble for a switch. A soft click echoes, and the room floods with warm light.
I freeze, my breath caught in my lungs.
Against the long wall of his living room stands a massive black bookshelf, the fresh paint glowing.
My eyes trace the intricate details—the perfectly aligned shelves, the smooth curves of the wood, and the small brass accents at the corners.
A rolling ladder is attached to the top rail, its polished wood gleaming under the light.
Most of it is filled with books, with a mix of dark and pastel covers, which makes me think he picked from among very different genres.
“I bought every single book I found. I don’t think I’m allowed inside any bookstore within twenty miles. And I checked yours to make sure I didn’t get you anything you already have, but I might have made a mistake here and there.”
I breathe, still too stunned to speak. There’s a saw against the blanket-covered couch, a paint bucket next to it.
Laughter bubbles out of me in pure exhilaration. “Oh my God, Gray.” I step closer, running my fingers along the nearest stack of books. “You… you made this?”
He leans casually in the doorway. “I told you I would. I figured if you like it, Ethan and I could move it into your place this weekend. While I work on your… castle, was it?”
I spin to face him, still laughing. “I can’t believe you actually made this.”
“Can’t you?” His grin widens. “I’m crazy about you, and I’ve been pretty open about it.”
He has, hasn’t he?
I’m speechless, standing there with the black masterpiece behind me and the man who built it in front of me.
Rafael pushes away from the doorway and crosses the room toward me. His hands find my face, his touch warm and sure, and before I can even catch my breath, his lips are on mine.
“Let me be clear.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, his scruff scratching softly against my skin.
“I intend to pursue you, Scarlett Moore. Privately, publicly, silently, and out loud. I plan to do it to your face and even when you’re not around, behind your back.
” He smiles, like being this vulnerable just comes naturally to him.
“Until our happily ever after, and beyond, I intend to give you a love worthy of a romance book.”
I nearly melt, and every thought dissolves under the heat of the next kiss. I reach up, curling my fingers into his shirt, but then he breaks away just enough to smirk against my lips.
Without a word, his hands glide down to my hips, firm and commanding. Before I realize what’s happening, he lifts me effortlessly, and a surprised laugh escapes me as he settles me on the rolling ladder.
“Rafael!” I gasp, clutching the sides for balance.
He leans in, his mouth grazing my ear as he murmurs, “You look good on it.”
His mouth captures mine again, more intense this time, his hands bracketing my thighs as the ladder creaks softly beneath us.
“I love this ladder,” I say against his lips, my nipples hardening as his chest brushes against me.
He withdraws just enough to watch me with hooded eyes. “Do you?”
With a gentle nudge, he lets the ladder roll to the left, and I shriek, clutching the rails tighter.
“Rafael!”
“Relax, I’ve got you.” He lets it glide a little farther before pulling it back toward him, his hands sliding to grip my waist. His voice drops, low and rough. “I’ll always get you.”
My heart stutters. “Always?”
“Mm-hmm.” His gaze roams over me, and then his mouth is on mine again, stealing whatever witty reply I might have had. “And now I get you naked for a whole night. In my bed. No interruptions.” He lifts my chin, kissing my pulse point. “Legs around me, breathless whimpers, sticky with sweat.”
“Someone’s feeling confident.”
“You’re about to find out.” With a swift motion, Rafael lifts me off the ladder, his strong arms cradling me against his chest. I wrap my legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carries me out of the living room and up the stairs. His lips never leave mine, stealing kisses with each step.
Once we reach the bedroom, I quickly slide back to the floor.
Our hands move of their own accord, fumbling with buttons and zippers, the rush making it impossible to focus on anything but getting closer, removing every barrier between us.
His hands slide under my shirt, fingers skimming up my back as he pulls it over my head.
As he removes my bra, too, I shiver, the cool air hitting my skin only to be replaced by the warmth of his gaze. His finger follows the curve of my chest, brushing my nipple and tracing down my stomach, his lips parted, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“Your freckles,” he whispers. “They’re everywhere.”
I swallow, fighting the instinct to cover up. “Too much?”
“I wonder if I could kiss them all.” He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to my shoulder. “Lick them all,” he continues, tongue sliding down between my breasts.
Clinging to him when my knees turn wobbly, I tug at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against mine, and he quickly obliges, the fabric falling to the floor as we stumble toward the bed.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him without a shirt on, and as the mattress dips under my weight, I hold him back, wanting to take it all in.
Tattoos scatter across his chest—black lines slipping down his ribs, a half-finished compass at the edge of his collarbone, script curling just under his heart.
He’s lean, not bulky, but there’s definition in every plane, like he’s someone who doesn’t try to sculpt his body, just uses it.
A little hair trails down from his sternum, and I blink when I catch the glint of silver—a barbell piercing through one nipple.
He winks when he notices that’s what my gaze sticks to, like he knew I’d like that, then his body is pressing against mine.
I can barely get used to it before his hot breath is on my collarbone, and he maps a path of kisses down to the swell of my breasts.
It’s hard to think, to breathe. His hands are everywhere—caressing, exploring, teasing.
He takes one nipple into his mouth and sucks hard on it while his left hand continues to tease the other. I arch my back, trying to get closer to him, and he doesn’t disappoint as he switches to my other nipple and gives it the same treatment.
“Sensitive,” I say in between gasps, my fingers tracing the muscles of his shoulders.
“Hmm—perfect.”
His lips keep trailing down my body until they reach my thighs. After he glances at my expression, his fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, and he drags them down my legs.
Spreading my thighs wider apart, he watches intently. “I’m not going to make it, am I?”
“What?”
“I’m going to come the second I lick up this dripping pussy.”
I blush, eyes fluttering closed. “Rafael, please…”
He leans forward, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. I bite my lip, trying to breathe as he presses a kiss to the tender skin just above my knee.
“You’re teasing me—” I say, my voice catching in my throat as his fingers brush against my clit before pulling away again.
There’s a playful glint in his eyes, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “Can you blame me? You look so pretty like this, desperate for me.”
A rush of heat licks up my body, and I can’t hold back a whimper. “Rafael,” I plead.
“Yes?” His lips hover just above where I want them, and his fingers continue brushing lightly over me, sending shivers of pleasure rippling through my body.
I press myself against his touch, desperate for more. “Don’t make me beg.”
“Why not? I think I like you begging,” he says before his fingers slip inside me. His mouth follows suit, his tongue tracing slow, torturous circles around my clit.
“Oh—oooh.” The sensation is overwhelming, a wave of pleasure crashing over me with such force that my fingers curl into the sheets.
Every movement, every flick of his tongue, and every thrust of his fingers sends me spiraling higher and higher, until I’m lost in the sensation, the feel of him, the sound of his name on my lips, the intoxicating scent of sex.