Chapter 24
MANDY
Ididn’t want to think. I was so tired of thinking, of analyzing, of being practical and responsible. For once, I just wanted to feel.
His hands slid down my sides, gripping my waist, before he lifted me onto the kitchen counter in one smooth motion. I gasped at the sudden movement, my legs automatically wrapping around his hips.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice rough. “Tell me this is a bad idea and I’ll walk away right now.”
“Don’t you dare stop,” I breathed.
That was all the permission he needed. His mouth crashed back onto mine, more demanding this time. His hands were everywhere, sliding under my blouse, tracing the curve of my waist, moving higher to cup my breasts through my bra.
I arched into his touch, my fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. I needed to feel his skin against mine. Needed to touch him the way he was touching me.
He broke the kiss long enough to pull my blouse over my head, tossing it somewhere behind him. His eyes darkened as he took me in, sitting there on his counter in just my bra and pants.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his hands sliding up my thighs. “So fucking beautiful.”
His fingers found the button of my slacks. I lifted my hips to help him slide them down my legs along with my underwear. The cool granite of the counter pressed against my bare skin, making me shiver.
Briggs dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands gripping my thighs, spreading them wider.
“I’ve been thinking about this since Vegas,” he said, his breath hot against my inner thigh. “About tasting you.”
Then his mouth was on me, and I couldn’t think at all.
His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes that had me gripping the edge of the counter for support. He took his time, exploring every inch of me with his teeth and tongue learning what made me gasp and what had me digging my fingers into his hair. My thighs trembled.
“Briggs,” I moaned, one hand tangling in his hair. “Oh God.”
He hummed against me, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through my entire body. His fingers joined his mouth, sliding inside me while his tongue focused on that bundle of nerves that had me seeing stars.
I was already close. Embarrassingly close. But I didn’t care. I let myself fall into the sensation. The only thing that mattered was the way he was making me feel.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice muffled. “Let go for me.”
I came with a cry, my body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed over me. He didn’t stop, drawing it out until I was oversensitive and pulling at his hair.
When he finally stood, his lips were glistening, his eyes dark with desire. I pulled him in for a kiss, tasting myself on his tongue.
“Bedroom,” I managed to say between kisses. “Now.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted me off the counter.
My legs wrapped around his waist and he carried me through the house.
I was not one of those skinny girls that got carried anywhere, but Briggs carried me like I weighed nothing.
We kissed the entire way, desperate and messy.
He nearly walked into a wall trying to navigate while distracted.
“Left,” I gasped. “Door on the left.”
We made it to my bedroom. He laid me down on the bed with surprising gentleness considering how frantic we’d been seconds ago. I watched him strip off the rest of his clothes, admiring every inch of him.
He was perfect. All hard muscle and smooth skin. And God, I wanted him.
He reached for his pants and pulled a condom from his pocket. I was grateful one of us was thinking clearly enough to remember protection because I certainly wasn’t.
I watched him roll it on, my core clenching with anticipation.
Then he was on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress in the best possible way. His mouth found mine again as he positioned himself at my entrance.
“Ready?” he asked.
“So ready.”
He pushed inside in one smooth thrust. Damn. I swear he was bigger now than the first time. He gave me a moment to adjust before pulling back and thrusting again, harder this time.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “You feel incredible.”
I couldn’t respond. Could only hold on to him as he set a rhythm that had me climbing fast. My nails dug into his back, urging him deeper, harder.
He shifted the angle slightly, and suddenly every thrust was hitting that perfect spot inside me. I was going to come again. Already. I didn’t know what he did to me. It was like my body was actually made for him. He fit perfectly. My body clenched around him, pulling him deeper.
“Briggs,” I moaned. “Right there. Don’t stop.”
“Not stopping,” he promised. “Come for me again. I want to feel it.”
I was so close, teetering on that edge. His pace was relentless, each thrust pushing me higher. I felt the tension coiling tighter in my belly, my thighs trembling against his hips.
“That’s it,” he murmured against my neck, his voice strained. “I can feel you getting close.”
“Fuck, Mandy,” he groaned, his hips stuttering. “You feel so good.”
He buried himself deep and came with a low groan that I felt vibrate through his chest. He thrust again and again. The power in the man’s body flooded into mine. I wanted more. Needed more. My body jerked and twitched with the pleasure.
His hand slipped between us, fingers finding my swollen clit and circling with just the right amount of pressure. That was all it took. I shattered, crying out his name as my body pulsed around him.
He followed seconds later, groaning into my neck as he came.
We lay tangled together, both of us breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. He rolled off me long enough to deal with the condom, then pulled me against his chest. I nestled into him, my head resting over his heart. I could hear it pounding.
We stayed like that for a while, just breathing together. I felt boneless, satisfied in a way I hadn’t felt in far too long. Maybe ever.
“We have that interview tomorrow,” I said eventually. “With Laura Thomas from The Fashion Hour.”
“Right.” His chest rumbled under my cheek as he spoke. “Two o’clock, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. She wants to talk about the partnership, the new line, our ‘whirlwind romance.’”
Briggs chuckled. “Should be interesting.”
“Are you nervous?” I tilted my head up to look at him.
“About the interview? Not really.” His hand moved from my shoulder to my hair, gently combing through the strands. “We know each other well enough now. It won’t be hard to sell the story. We stick to the story of the instant love and it works. We don’t have to know every detail.”
He was right. A week ago, the idea of doing a couple’s interview would have terrified me.
We barely knew each other. We couldn’t stand each other half the time.
Any interviewer worth their salt would have seen right through us.
Our chemistry was more in line with a toxic stew.
Now it was more passionate. I guess seeing someone naked will do that.
But now? After Vegas, after the carriage and the roller coaster and the chapel? After tonight?
“It doesn’t feel so fake anymore,” I admitted quietly. “Does it?”
His hand stilled in my hair. I felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath. I braced myself for rejection. I was already running through a way to take it back. My insecurity was roaring to life. I was too thick. Too much of a workaholic. Too bossy. A man like Briggs Blackwell did not want me.
“No,” he said finally. “It doesn’t.”
I almost cried with relief.
And then the second wave of reality washed in.
It was temporary. He was east coast, and I was west coast. All of this would be ending in a couple of months.
He was only staying in town for a few weeks.
I didn’t know him well enough to know his dating history.
He might have a stable of women on regular rotation back home.
But I didn’t want to think about that. Not right now. Not when I was lying here in his arms, feeling more content than I had in years.
“Stay,” I said. “Tonight. Don’t go back to the guest room.”
“You sure?” His voice was soft, but I could hear the hope underneath.
“I’m sure.” I pressed a kiss to his chest. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Then I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me and holding me tight. “I’m right where I want to be.”
I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth of him. Tomorrow we’d do the interview. We’d smile for the camera and tell our story and sell the fantasy of our perfect romance to thousands of listeners.
But right now, in this moment, it didn’t feel like a fantasy at all. It felt real.
His breathing began to even out, becoming slower and deeper. I felt myself drifting, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the security of his arms around me.
“Mandy?” he murmured, his voice already thick with sleep.
“Mm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Giving me a chance to prove I’m not a total asshole.”
I smiled against his skin. “Thank you for using my grill and making me an amazing dinner.”
He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Best decision I ever made.”
“Marrying me for grill access?”
I fell asleep wrapped in my husband’s arms, feeling safer and more cherished than I could ever remember feeling before. Whatever happened next, including the inevitable end of our arrangement, I would deal with it when it came.
For now, this was enough.
More than enough.
This was everything.