Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You asked me to marry you.”
Victor’s broad back was to her as he poured the hot chocolate into a mug. A smiling Santa mug. Melody bet the mug didn’t belong to him. No way. The winking, smiling Santa was probably something else she’d brought to the house. Something he’d kept.
His broad back stiffened. “You were my fiancée.”
“I’m not talking about last year.” She stood in front of the large, marble island in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m talking about five minutes ago. Upstairs. In the bedroom.”
The hot chocolate had frothed, but he moved toward the refrigerator.
Opened the door. Pulled out a can of whipped cream.
“You always liked a little on top,” he said.
“Told me it made the hot chocolate even better.” With a few twists of his hand, he sprayed the cream onto the hot chocolate.
“There.” He even reached out and drizzled a few chocolate chips onto the top.
“All done.” He brought the mug toward her.
She stared at it, and she wanted to cry. “Yes.”
“Uh, yes?”
Her gaze lifted to collide with his. “Yes, I will marry you. You asked me five minutes ago. Or maybe you told me. Hard to say for sure because the words didn’t really sound like a question.
” They had not. And, now, he was just staring at her, with those sexy lips of his slightly parted as stubble covered his hard jaw.
“Um, you know,” Melody prompted, “when you were offering to fly me to Paris or jet me off to some private island.” She reached for the mug.
Her fingers slid over his. She could feel the heat of the hot chocolate, but, more, she could feel the warmth of his touch.
“Melody…” If possible, his jaw hardened even more. “Baby, you don’t remember—”
“I scream for you when I have nightmares.” Not just nightmares.
When she’d been terrified—both in that cold, snowy hell from her past and earlier, when they’d been near the police station and the attacker had come at her, she’d screamed for Victor.
“I scream for you because I know you’ll help me.
I may not remember our time together, but the more I am around you, the more I know how I feel. ”
He backed away.
Slowly, deliberately, she raised the hot chocolate as she kept her gaze on him.
“Be careful,” he rasped. “You don’t want to get burned.”
She brought the hot chocolate to her lips. And, being careful, she just lightly licked the whipped cream. Then she blew down, cooling the hot chocolate before she took a sip.
Utter perfection. “You know what I like.”
“Melody.”
“I like the way you say my name. I like the way you look at me.”
“You told me that when you saw me at the estate, you were afraid.”
Another careful sip. Another lick of the whipped cream. Delicious. “I’m still afraid.”
“And yet, you say you’re going to marry me?”
Yes. “For a year, I felt like I was frozen on the inside. And with you, in such a short time, I’m coming alive again.
” It was like waking up. Did that even make sense?
“I’m afraid that I will lose you, I will lose the me that I’m finding, and I’ll go back to the ice.
” Another sip. Then deliberately, she put down the mug of hot chocolate.
“I don’t want to lose you. Not ever again.
So, yes, I’ll marry you. As soon as possible.
Because I may not know everything about my life before that snowy hell.
” A mocking laugh escaped her. “Everything is certainly a stretch, huh?” Because she barely knew anything.
The smile left her. “But I know I was desperate to get back home, and I think it was because I was desperate to get back to you.” She squared her shoulders. “I love you, Victor Alexander.”
His dark eyes burned with intensity, but his hands clenched. His body tensed.
“Um, I kind of thought you’d have more of a reaction.” Her own hands twisted in front of her. She’d hoped for the kind of reaction where he rushed to her, swept her into his arms, and kissed her as if his very life depended on the task.
“I’m trying not to jump you.”
Relief swept through her. Now, that was better. But… “Why are you doing that? I want you to jump me.”
He lunged forward. His mouth took hers. Warm.
Hard. Possessive and strong. Devouring and delighting, and joy filled her.
Real joy. The kind that she hadn’t felt since—well, she had no clue.
But joy pumped in her blood as she wrapped her arms around him, and he pulled her tightly against him.
Then he lifted her up with that sexy strength of his that seemed so effortless, and Victor carried her. Not too far, though. Only a few steps.
He put her down on the kitchen table. A big, sturdy, white, farmhouse table. The bottom of her nightgown hiked up, barely skimming the tops of her thighs, and his finger slid under the material, working up higher and higher until he touched her sex.
His mouth pulled from hers. “You taste delicious.”
Probably the whipped cream.
“Sweetheart, you aren’t wearing panties.”
Good of him to, ah, notice. His fingers slid over her clit, and she choked out a moan.
“Baby, baby, baby…” A sigh. “I am not going to be able to hold on long.”
He had on too many clothes. “I don’t want you to hold on at all. I want you to go wild for me.”
He stared down at her with glittering eyes. “Only if you go wild first.”
Pretty sure she could guarantee that.
He kissed her again, dipping his tongue into her mouth. Stealing her breath and feeding her lust and making her arch against his hand because she wanted those fingers in her. She wanted his dick in her. She wanted to forget pain and fear and just feel the wild pleasure that he gave her.
He’d been right.
Best lover ever.
“You taste so good.” Deep. Low. Rough.
“That’s the whipped cream,” she whispered back.
He smiled at her. “Is it?” And he backed away.
Wait, why was he backing away? She needed him. “Victor!”
He grabbed the whipped cream. “Get comfortable. Spread out.”
Wait. There? On the table? “Um, should we go upstairs?”
“No, we should stay right here. Ease back, love. Spread out for me.”
On the kitchen table? Really? But, ah, okay. She eased back. Her shoulders pressed to the wood. Her legs hung off the side of the table. Her eyes locked on the small chandelier that hung over the farmhouse table. “What are you doing with the whipped—Victor!”
She’d just felt the cold spray between her legs.
Her mouth opened wide, but she didn’t get to call out again because in the next breath, he was between her legs.
Licking away the whipped cream. Swiping his tongue over her.
Into her. Driving her to the edge and beyond, and there was no slow build up.
There was just a quick, frantic frenzy as her hips slammed against his greedy mouth because he was feasting on her like he was starved.
A hot, wild sexual frenzy, and she came right there, right then, rocking against him as he tasted and took and possessed her with his wicked, wicked tongue.
Her breath heaved in and out. In and out.
She blinked, dazed, and tore her gaze from the chandelier.
She stared down at him. His hands had slapped onto the table on either side of her.
Slowly, his head rose. He licked his lips once more.
“The whipped cream is good,” he said, voice thick and deep.
“But you’re better.” He pulled back so that he could toss away his shirt.
Victor shoved the pants and his underwear out of the way.
The broad head of his dick lodged at the entrance to her body as he positioned himself against her. “Gonna come for me again?”
She had no idea. Her body was still vibrating with aftershocks of pleasure. When his dick began to push into her, she gasped because those aftershocks just hit harder.
“So tight,” he growled. “Fucking…missed you.”
“I missed you.” Maybe it seemed crazy to say she’d missed a man that she didn’t fully remember, but she had. A hole had been in her life, and that emptiness hadn’t been filled until she’d worked her way back home. She’d felt like someone was missing.
Victor.
He drove deep into her, and she had no more words. She was too lost to feeling and need and a lust that grew stronger with every deep drive of his cock into her. Her sex clamped fiercely around him. Her hands grabbed for his shoulders as she held on tight.
As tight as possible.
His hands curled around her hips. He urged her up against him, pulling her until they were sealed tightly together and for a moment, he stilled.
Her breath shuddered out. She yearned. She needed. She was caught on the edge and so ready to go over.
“Promise that you’ll never leave me again.”
She gazed into his intense eyes. So much darkness. “I promise.”
He let go. Pistoning, thrusting frantically. One of his hands slid between their bodies. Caught her clit between his fingers. Stroked. Squeezed. Sent her careening into a release as she shouted out his name.
He lifted her off the table. Her legs wrapped around him.
Her arms twined around his neck. His hips pounded and pounded, and he came inside of her.
She tightened around him because she loved the way he felt within her.
She loved being connected to him. Held so close to him.
Loved everything— “I love you,” she whispered.
And it was true. She felt it in her heart.
Some things, you did not have to remember.
You could feel the truth. She loved this man. He was hers.
He didn’t take her back upstairs. Instead, Victor carried Melody to his room. He wanted her in his bed. Needed her close.
Tenderly, carefully, he cleaned between her legs, using a warm cloth on her delicate core. Then he ditched the cloth, turned off the lights, and climbed into the bed beside her. Automatically, his arm reached out and curled around her stomach as he pulled her against him.
She was warm. Soft. Safe.
His.
I love you.