Chapter 10
Jasmine
The suite is dark and hushed, lit only by the thin silver wash of the storm through the wide window. Inside, the air smells of saltwater carried in on our clothes, tangled with the polished wood of the suite’s heavy furniture.
I sink deeper into the mattress, the sheets too smooth against my bare thighs. Damp strands of hair cling to my neck and cheeks, dripping into the pillowcase. The faint chill only makes me hotter, like the heat is trapped under my skin with nowhere to go.
Nathan’s T-shirt is too big on me but smells like him: faint cologne, clean soap, something warmer I can’t name. I shouldn’t have touched his things. But after tonight, what’s left to hide? Wearing his shirt feels like a claim I make when he won’t.
I burrow my nose into the collar, breathing it deep. The hem barely skims the tops of my thighs, and every movement makes the fabric brush over the ache between my legs. My core twinges, a sharp reminder of what he took without fully claiming me.
If he’s torn through my virginity, shouldn’t he at least take me properly? Give me all of him?
I go rigid as the suite door clicks open. My heart feels too big for my chest as his footsteps cross the carpet. He pauses, close enough that I feel his gaze along my spine. Then he moves on and the shower starts up in the bathroom.
Relief floods me—he didn’t leave me here. Of course he didn’t. Mr. Grayson is a gentleman. But neither does it mean anything.
Suddenly, the mattress dips behind me, pulling me, as if gravity chose his side. Heat radiates off him, seeping into my back, curling low between my thighs. My breath snags, quickening, as if my body can’t decide whether to hide or invite him closer.
My thighs press together, holding in the ache that blooms hot and insistent. His large hand lands on my shoulder with utter tenderness, his powerful body bowing around me as if to shield me. From the storm? From himself?
“Jasmine?”
I hold still by the skin of my teeth, fighting the urge to throw myself at his mercy. I begged for his hands and his mouth earlier. How far away is begging for his heart, for his love?
“I know you’re awake, little bird.” His whisper breezes over the small hairs on the nape of my neck, sending a direct twang to my clit.
The gruff tenderness in his tone threatens to melt me, so I infuse the last ounce of defiance into my words. “Great deduction, Mr. Grayson.”
His laughter enfolds me, the subtle shake of his shoulders sending tremors through mine. “You use sarcasm when you’re angry,” he says, pulling at that last fragile thread that’s holding me together. “Tell me.”
It’s my turn to laugh now, soft but snarky in the dark. I get paid to do a bratty good girl, and I channel it now like my life depends on it. “Oh, I just thought an older, mature man like you would do better than storming out on me.”
His fingers move up toward the arch of my neck and land on my pulse. “Leaving you in the bathtub was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
I hear the regret in his voice. Plus, I have years’ worth of experience that Mr. Grayson doesn’t lie.
Still, the crushing rejection I felt as I lay alone in the tub, half-blanked out on pleasure, won’t budge from my chest. I know I’m losing him come tomorrow morning, but I will lose on my terms.
“I didn’t care about that,” I say unsteadily.
“Then what?”
I shrug, and his fingers dip below the neckline of the T-shirt. Feels like electricity zapping down my spine. “I guess I expected a better performance. Given how much of an overachiever you are everywhere else.”
His powerful body stills behind me, like an apex predator coming to a sudden stop mid-chase. “What do you mean?” He sounds steady enough, but I hear the edge in his words.
I keep my voice level, but the words are sharp. “I thought if I gave my virginity to an older man, he’d at least give me the full experience… not rip through me then leave me in the tub like a soggy blanket.”
For a long, torturous beat, there’s nothing but the sounds of the pelting rain and my own shallow breaths.
Did I push him too far?
Then, large, rough hands turn me until I’m on my back.
Nathan is on his side, head propped on his elbow. There’s enough light for me to see the intensity warming his gray eyes—and the anger tightening his features. “You are right,” he says, fingers gentle on my shoulder. “I should have done better, little bird.”
My breath rushes out on a rough exhale as I realize he’s angry at himself. “You left me.” The words rush past my lips without permission, nearly a whine. “After making me come so hard I nearly blanked out.”
“I’m an ignorant asshole, Jasmine.” His breath feathers over my lips. “But even older, mature men can get thrown by a girl who begs like she’s been practicing in secret.”
My breath hovers in my throat as my eyes lock with his. There’s something there I can’t put my finger on. He’s both teasing and… probing.
I lock my hands at my sides when all they want is to clamp onto those muscular shoulders and never let go. But when his gaze zooms to my lips, I can’t help but lick them.
“You’re full of secrets, aren’t you?” he says.
I blink, but it’s a giveaway. Is he talking about Sophie’s college applications? How does he know? Was that why he was in such a strange mood as we left the reception?
My belly tightens. Suddenly, I feel the moments counting down between us. The approaching dawn might as well be the end of this. “Why did you come to bed, Nathan?”
For a beat, he just looks at me. His eyes are steady, but there’s something working behind them, like he’s deciding which truth to give me.
“I decided I don’t give a fuck about honor, that you’re smart enough to know your own mind.
That I care more about getting inside the virgin pussy that swallowed my fingers so greedily.
I came back, baby girl,” he says softly, and suddenly he’s on top of me, his lower body pressing into mine, “to give you the full experience, as you put it.”
My thighs fall away on instinct, and his thick, hard length is lodged against my aching core. But the damn T-shirt blocks full contact. “Oh.”
“Is that okay?” he says, tone gruff.
“For tonight?” I ask, because I’m a masochist.
His bare chest rises and falls. “I know you’re a planner and a strategist, little bird. But I’m not. So, is this okay?”
This time he enunciates the last as if he wants to make sure I get it.
That it’s a temporary madness. That I shouldn’t draw conclusions or make assumptions. He won’t make false promises just to be inside me, even as the thick length of him brands my upper thigh.
That blunt honesty is at the core of Nathan Grayson, and it’s why I fell in love with him. Which is exactly when my brain decides to panic.
Imprinting Nathan into my heroes when I narrate is easy. But reality? The weight of him over me, the heat in his eyes, the way his voice roughens when he calls me baby girl…
How do I make this good for him? Make sure he’ll never forget me?
I’ve done the minimum prep—plucked every stray hair, long shower, expensive-smelling shampoo, too much body lotion. But what if I don’t know where to put my hands, or miss the moment to do something he likes? What if—
“Jasmine.” His voice cuts into the spiral. “You’re thinking again.”
I blink up at him. “I’m not—”
“Yes, you are,” he says, a knowing smile tugging at his mouth. His hand slides under the hem of his shirt on my body, palm hot against my skin. “You’re running through some mental checklist.”
“I just—”
“What, little bird?” His voice is low, coaxing. One big hand slides over my ribs, warm and steady, his thumb brushing just under my breast. “Tell me.”
“I want this to be good for you. And I have zero idea how to make it so.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. The unexpected tenderness makes my chest squeeze. “Of course you want to, my competent-as-fuck girl. How about I tell you a secret then? Balance the scales a bit.”
The sheer combination of his touch and those words nearly undoes me. “Yes, please.”
“I haven’t done this in a long time.”
I curl my fingers around his forearms and the grounded strength of him tugs me out of my head and back into my body. “How long?”
“I don’t even remember. Maybe fifteen years. More” His sigh is heavy. “I’ve been lonely. Something I only realized recently.”
My heart aches for him, for this man who deserves every happiness. “Especially since your brother Zayn and Sasha got together.”
He chuckles. “Noticed, have you?”
“I notice everything about you.”
“And you think I don’t? About you?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, sudden shyness curling around me. My hands move to his shoulders. “Will you tell me how to make it good for you? I like to do things well.”
His mouth curves against my temple, and this time it is a smile, slow and certain. “I love that about you, little bird. How you take care of everyone around you. How you manage so many things.” His voice is low, warm, but there’s something else too. “But here, it doesn’t have to be like that.”
I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”
The backs of his fingers brush my cheek.
They pause, tracing the edge of the birthmark I’ve spent half my life trying to make people ignore.
“You’ve been carrying everything yourself for a long time, haven’t you?
” His voice is quiet. “Had to be competent and strong before most people even figure out who they are.”
My breath catches.
His thumb skims over the mark, the touch so gentle it’s almost reverent. “And when the world noticed you, it wasn’t always kind.”
I can’t speak.
“I love that you’ve got it all handled out there,” he says, eyes glinting. “But here?” His palm tips my chin up. “You don’t have to be the girl with the perfect handle on everything. Not with me.”
Something loosens low in my stomach, the part of me that’s been braced for years, always ready to take care of myself and others around me. I nod before I can think too hard about it.
His mouth curves. “Good girl.”
The words land like a switch, quiet but absolute. I’m not steering anymore. I don’t have to be when he’s around. “Yes, Daddy.” My voice rings with acceptance. “I’m giving myself over to you.”