Chapter 29
Ingrid
It’s after midnight when the party finally winds down.
As the guests trickle out the door, the musicians pack away their instruments and the bartender shuts down the bar.
It’ll be another day or two before the house gets back to normal but for now I marvel at the handsome man next to me.
Jefferson has stayed by my side all night, never once straying, his presence solid and steady.
He held firm through the small talk, shaking hands with family, old friends, and faces so famous they’re practically carved into the Hollywood skyline.
He acclimates easily, no different, I assume, than at a frat party.
Less beer from a keg and more champagne.
But what surprised me most was how they looked at him, not as my arm candy or some temporary distraction, but as Jefferson Parks.
He’s more well-known than I realized, his reputation as an all-star hockey player preceding him.
They asked him about winning the Frozen Four.
They asked what it’s like to play with Reese Cain.
They asked him about the chances for the Surge next season.
He answered every single question with that easy grin that melts me from the inside out. At one point, his fingers threaded through mine, anchoring me, and he said, “I’m just excited about life right now.”
Swoon. Literal swoon.
Slowly, the final guests drift out, the house strangely still. My mother slumps against the banister, exhaustion written all over her, though she’s still smiling, still glowing.
“Thank you. You’re amazing,” I tell her. “I heard it was a record year for fundraising.”
“I love doing this,” she sighs, kicking off her heels with a relieved sigh, “but now I need a vacation.”
“That’s why the plane leaves in two days,” my father reminds her, tucking her arm in his. “Then we’ll be in our own private cabana overlooking crystal clear water. A reward for a job well done.”
“Good night, sweetheart,” my mother calls. “And nice to meet you, Jefferson.”
“Thank you for an amazing evening,” Jefferson replies with that charming grin, and I know my mother is won over.
We watch them climb the stairs before I turn my attention back to the man next to me. Jefferson lost his jacket two hours ago. His tie sometime after that. The top of his shirt is unbuttoned giving a small peek at his broad chest underneath. “I like them,” he says quietly. “They suit one another.”
“Some days, yes,” I admit, fighting back a yawn. “But they’re also really different. I think that’s why it works. They meet each other’s needs.”
“Right now, I’m ready to meet your needs.” He tilts his head and sucks a hot kiss on my neck.
“Yeah? What is it that you think I need?” I ask, preparing myself for a filthy response.
“My tongue in your pussy, followed by my cock.” He doesn’t disappoint. “You need me stretching that tight little cunt of yours until you can’t take it anymore.”
My breath hitches. “I’ve missed you and your dirty mouth.”
“And my magnificent cock?” he teases.
“It’s magnificent, huh?”
“I’ll just have to prove it.”
God, he’s so sexy, so much fun. I’m not kidding about missing him, it’s only having him this close that makes me realize how much.
In a swift move, he lifts me off my feet, cradling me under my back and legs. “Jefferson!” I squeal, but I love being in his strong arms. He strides toward the steps, but before we make it to the stairs, Madison steps into our path.
Her eyes flick between us, how he’s holding me, and her expression tight. “I was hoping we could talk?”
Jefferson eases me back to the ground, hands never leaving me. Grounding. Steady.
I need it for what I’m about to do.
“Not tonight.”
“Please.” Madison swallows, eyes shining.
“I thought I was doing the right thing. After everything–your breakups, the rumors, the press always circling…I thought it was my job to protect you. To keep you safe, even if that meant stepping in where I shouldn’t have.
” Her throat bobs as she swallows. “I crossed a line. I went too far. And I hurt you, which is the opposite of what I ever wanted.”
The words hang heavy between us, a mix of guilt and something close to relief, like finally saying it out loud is breaking her open. Tears slip down her cheeks, and she doesn’t even bother wiping them away.
For a long moment, I don’t know what to say. My chest is tight, my mind spinning back through the months of tension, the silences, the mistrust. “I’m glad you’re thinking about your actions and how hurtful they were, but like I said, I’m not talking about this tonight.”
Madison blinks hard. She nods, lips pressed together, then steps aside, giving us a clear path up the stairs. I don’t look back. My hand tightens around Jefferson’s as we climb the stairs, heart hammering. “I know that was harsh, but–”
“Hey,” he tells me, “you don’t have to make excuses for people when they upset you. She can wait another day.” He pulls me against his body. His erection is thick and hard against his leg. “Me, on the other hand? I can’t wait another fucking minute.”
His mouth dips, capturing mine in a kiss that’s all hunger and need, hot and unrelenting.
It steals my breath, leaving me dizzy and wanting more.
My fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans, a sound that makes my stomach flip.
Every inch of him presses against me, and the world outside ceases to exist.
I lead him upstairs to my bedroom. The massive room sprawls around us, vast and luxurious.
The canopy bed dominates the space, swathed in silk and velvet, soft lighting casts shadows on the walls.
I step back just enough to catch a glimpse of him, my body aching in anticipation, and he grins, teeth brushing his bottom lip, eyes dark with intent.
Jefferson’s hands are gentle when he pushes the silver straps off my shoulders, letting the fabric pool at my feet. His eyes drink me in, skimming down my body. I don’t feel self-conscious. I feel worshipped.
“Touch me,” I beg. When he does it’s teasing, a rough thumb grazing my nipple, mouth dipping down to take the other in his mouth. He works me into hard, aching peaks, a slippery heat building between my legs.
“Fuck, I missed you, Angel.”
There’s no doubt that he wants me. It’s in his every touch and kiss.
It’s in the hard erection threatening to tear the seam of his pants.
Reaching between us, I unbuckle his belt and take him in my hand, heavy and hot.
Giving him a long stroke, he growls low in his chest and snaps, lifting me up and throwing me on the bed.
I land on my back and look up at him as he removes the rest of his clothes. His body is a temple of hard cut muscle. I watch him closely, his cock swinging heavy between his legs, yelping in surprise when he grabs my ankles and pulls me to the edge of the bed.
“This first time is gonna be fast, but after that we can take it slow.”
He says it like there’s no discussion, and I realize how incredibly hot that is. Someone taking charge that isn’t me. He strokes himself, and I do the same, touching myself between the legs. Getting myself ready for him.
“That may be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He groans watching my fingers turn slick. Flattening his palm on my inner thigh, he spreads me apart, then eases a finger inside, curving it in the most deliriously, delicious way. “You’re so fucking tight, I want to feel you around my cock.”
Impatiently, he withdraws his fingers and crawls over me, lining himself up and grazing the tip of his cock against my entrance, giving me what I crave.
It’s fast. Hard. A punishing thrust inside that I feel in my bones. I wrap my legs around him and he pulls me close, fucking into me like I’m the answer to everything.
I circle his bicep with my fingers, marveling at how solid and warm he is under my hands.
How good he feels inside me. At the urgency that builds between us, the need and the raw, unfiltered connection.
I’m on the edge, one blink away from falling apart, when he looks down at me, gray eyes steady, and says it again, “I love you.”
It’s those words that trigger the spiral, the shatter of my body, my psyche, my soul.
The orgasm rushes through me, pulsing and hot around him.
I barely have time to think, time to breathe, because the muscle in the back of his jaw draws tight and his body seizes up.
I’m still spiraling when he thrusts into me one last time and groans.
I’m addicted to this man. To his face and body and, yeah, magnificent cock.
I’m obsessed with the way he touches me, holds me, carries me like my weight and the burdens that come with Ingrid Flockton are light as a feather.
I’m completely consumed by the way he looks hovering over me, dick twitching inside, making sure that I take every drop of him, and fuck, I just want more.
He pulls out, and we tumble back across the expanse of silk sheets, mouths fused, bodies greedy after too many days apart. He kisses me like he’s been starving, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he stops.
My nails rake down his back, pulling him closer. Skin against skin. I flatten my hand over his chest, feeling the hammer of his heartbeat. It matches mine.
“I love you,” I tell him, pushing a lock of that blond hair out of his eyes. “You, and your magnificent cock.”
“Yes!” He grins, fist pumping like a dork. “I knew it.”
He’s so silly, but that’s what makes this so incredible. Love doesn’t have to be painful and fraught. It can be fun and respectful. Sexy and confident. It can be a long moment, where we lie there, tangled together, the night silent except for our breathing and the distant crash of waves.
Love can be a place where the outside doesn’t matter–only this bed, this room, and the man who showed up for me.