Chapter 19
Jasmine
It’s more than twenty minutes when I throw on shorts and a tank-top onto my still damp skin. The cry did me good, I think, washed away the fear.
I don’t care that the shorts barely hide my ass and highlight my pussy or that the tank makes my nipples peak and bud instantly.
Let him shift the boundaries between us with a straight face. Or without sporting an erection.
I’m annoyed with myself, and my arrogant, bull-headed boss. My motions are jerky as I pull my messy hair into a high ponytail. But the necklace—I can’t bear to take it off.
What the hell happened earlier?
I made all these plans to tell him how I feel when I got into his bed. I was going to declare my love, fight for a chance with him. Sophie even lent me her lucky diamond studs.
Mr. Grayson’s emotions were almost palpable when I first woke up. He listened to me elaborate on all the ways I messed up with endless patience.
Then he rushed me out of the bedroom as if he couldn’t bear to see me on his bed. As if I was somehow disturbing his private space, his... sanity even.
But enough of us circling each other, of letting him decide the course of this.
My breath punches out of me once again as I step into the kitchen. Every square inch of the island and the counters and even the dining table is covered in tiny little tea candles. Standing in the middle of it all, only dressed in gray sweatpants, is Mr. Grayson.
I barely take in the room, take him in before my eyes land on his outstretched hand. His open palm.
And the small navy velvet box nestled there.
My heart thuds so hard against my ribcage it’s a wonder it’s not ripping out through flesh. My head feels empty. My bare feet squeak against the marble floor.
I reach him and stare at the box, my belly sloshing as if I’m full of bubbly, sparkly champagne.
“Open it, little bird.”
With one hand, I grasp his wrist and pop open the box while it still sits on his palm. A princess cut sapphire sits in the middle, surrounded by tiny diamonds in a cluster. The white platinum band shines dully against the black velvet bed.
My eyes fill with tears as I stare at the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.
“Remember the time we went to that jewelry store a couple of years ago?” Mr. Grayson says, his voice low and catching. As if it’s a struggle to get each word out. “To buy Sophie a bracelet for her twenty-first birthday, I think. You said you loved sapphires.”
I take a grasping breath—fighting to wake up if it’s a dream—and finally look up. Of course he remembers.
Mr. Grayson’s eyes are full of emotion—longing and affection and desire. A cocktail that I can get drunk on, by simply meeting his eyes.
“Marry me, little bird. Run my house, rule my heart, stay with me forever.”
It’s like the gravity of the room has tilted. I find myself swaying toward him before my thumping heart can accept that this is happening. That this is real. “Why?” I say, the question zooming out of me on instinct. “Why do you want to marry me?”
But once it lands between us, I’m glad I asked it.
When I decided to reveal some of my feelings to him, when I asked him for one evening, I was happy for crumbs.
Happy to settle for a few hours of his company.
Happy if I could steal one kiss, one night, one embrace from my charming, billionaire boss.
But now that I’ve tasted his kisses, have felt him move inside me like he owns me, have known his gruff tenderness as a protector and his insatiable appetite as a lover, I can’t accept anything but the full spectrum of his love, anything but his whole heart.
I adore him so much and I deserve everything he has to give.
“Why do you think?” he says, arm still outstretched, answering my question with another.
“If you’re proposing to me because Sophie found out or because your honor compels you or because you feel... sorry for me...” my throat aches so hard on those words that I have to swallow, “then...”
He grabs me and despite my resolve, I can’t help the half-sob, half-groan that escapes my mouth.
My fists find his shoulders as that tiny thread of fear that I might have lost him fills me.
He doesn’t let me go though, and the heated hardness of his body chases it away.
His mouth is warm at my temple and his arms are like steel bands as they hold me up.
I realize with another grasping breath that he doesn’t know how tightly he grips me.
Slowly, the tension in his powerful frame sinks into me.
“I want to marry you, little bird, because I’m in love with you.
With that wet, tight pussy that’s always ready for me.
With that soft, bright smile that warms up my house, my life, my heart.
With this generous, brave heart that looks after me, cares for me, loves me,” and here, his voice breaks too, but his hand moves to my chest as if he needs to know the rhythm of my heart, “like no one else ever has.”
It's a good thing he holds me up because I’m melting at his words.
My limbs feel like they are made of rubber.
He gathers me to him with a gentleness that makes the sob I was fighting in the bathroom slip out.
“Shh... baby girl. No tears, yeah? I’m sorry that I stormed out like that. That I said I didn’t know you at all.”
“Don’t,” I whisper, my hands scrabbling up his arms to wrap around his neck. I press into him but it’s not enough. Until my breasts are crushed against his chest and my heart can feel the eager, desperate thump of his, “I hurt you when all I wanted to do was to protect you.”
He laughs then and it’s a gruff, choked sound that engulfs me. “I’m not used to that yet, baby girl.”
“To what?”
“To someone wanting to protect me. To someone thinking of my feelings. It’s usually the other way around.”
I laugh then, because it mirrors what he said to me that fateful morning when I asked him to come with me to the wedding reception. “Then you better start getting used to it, Mr. Grayson. Because I want to look after you and care for you like it’s my sole purpose in life.”
“So you forgive me for acting like an immature asshole,” he pounces on my softening tone, “and storming out on you when I should have stayed? Not once, but twice?”
“I do.”
“And will you stop fucking calling me Mr. Grayson soon?”
I scrunch my nose. “Do I have to?”
He shrugs, a naughty smile curving his lips. “Actually, I don’t care. As long as you call me Daddy when we are alone.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. But before I can lean in and kiss him, he shrugs me off.
My protest dies halfway on my lips when he sinks to his knees and holds up the ring, now out of its box. In his rough palm, the sapphire and the diamonds look extra shimmery. But that can hold my attention only for so long.
It’s the second time he’s kneeled in front of him and God, the sight undoes me like nothing else.
“Not sure if these old knees can take too long of this, little bird. Say yes to Daddy, won’t you?”
Laughter bursts out of me. “I don’t believe the lies about your stamina, Daddy. I know how long you can last.”
“If you say yes and put me out of my misery,” he grabs my hip with one hand and presses his face into my belly, “I can give you a fresh demonstration.”
I jerk when he nips at the curve of my hip. “What if I want more than just to be your wife?”
“You want to be a mom to Sophie? Because, baby, you’ve been in that role unofficially for a while now.”
I laugh, sink my hands into his hair and tug. A little roughly. Head bent, he gives himself over with a little groan.
Mine, my heart whispers repeatedly.
I can touch him and kiss him and caress him all I want.
I can sleep by his side every single night in that enormous bed. By the look in his eyes and the gruffness of his admission, I’m already the center of his world.
But still... my heart longs for a little more.
Am I being greedy? Selfish? What if he’s completely against the idea of children? Try as I might, I can’t keep this last wish to myself. “I was a single child, and I always wanted a big family.”
His brow clears and a new, naughty light fills his eyes. “If you’re thinking about babies, I’m already ahead of you, baby girl. Why do you think I’ve been fucking you raw since day one? I mean, other than the fact that your pussy feels amazing and you didn’t throw a single objection in my face?”
“And you aren’t just saying you want babies, because you think it’s what I want? Because, Nathan,” his name tingles on my lips, “I don’t want to force you into—”
“You know why I kept Sophie’s mom in my life for nearly a decade even though our marriage lasted like a whole month?”
I shake my head, my chest twisting at the ache in his voice.
“Because Sophie made me a dad. Because she made me realize that I had all this love I wanted to give but I couldn’t trust a woman with it. Until you, baby girl.”
“So you want to make a family with me? Build our own world?”
“I’ll build a fucking universe for you, Jasmine.” When I scrape my nails over his scalp, he grunts and laughs. “With you, baby girl. A whole universe with you.”
“Do you get the feeling,” I say, feeling choked up, running my fingers through his hair, “that we are made for each other, Mr. Grayson? That the universe did an amazing job putting us in each other’s path?”
“All the time. Every fucking minute that I look at you, little bird.”
“Yes, I will marry you and be your wife and your baby mama and your best cum slut,” I say thrusting my hand out to him.
His smile is full of wonder and love and a whole lot of masculine satisfaction. The ring slides on perfectly and he shoots to his feet as I stare at it like a lovesick fool. Only for a few seconds though because his mouth captures mine.
“I can’t wait,” he says lifting me to the dining table and nipping my lower lip, “to see these firm tits swell up with milk. I can’t wait to breed you, little bird. You know that’s the first image that told me how much of a goner I was for you?”
I cling to his lips and chase them when he pulls back. The filthy idea he just planted in my head makes me rub my chest against him like a cat in heat. “Tell me more, please.”
His tongue sweeps through my mouth, tangling with the tip of mine. While his hands knead my hips and pull me to the edge of the table. And then he dry-humps into me, the thick weight of his cock notching up right against my pussy.
I throw my head back and moan. “Please, Daddy. Can I have more? Can I have you inside me? Here, in the kitchen? So that—”
“Only if you use that voice you do for the erotic books and only if you call me Mr. Gray.”
Shock floods me. I try to jerk out of his hold, but he doesn’t let me. “How do you know?” I finally say.
“Your phone automatically connected to the car outside the hotel on Whidbey,” he says, his gaze devouring my face. “It was all I needed.”
My words come out as a croak. “All you needed?”
“To know that you wanted me too,” he says, his chest falling.
I cover my face with my hands. “Me begging you to touch me, to take me, to make me come wasn’t enough?” I joke but there’s also a bit of embarrassment in my tone.
He laughs and tugs my hands away from my face.
But his silver-grey eyes are serious as they hold mine.
“It wasn’t about you, baby girl. I already had your taste on my fingers, in my bloodstream.
If I took my time to get around to noticing you, to acknowledging this between us, it’s because of my own hangups. ”
His gruff admission undoes me a little more. Leaning in, I clasp his face and press a kiss to his throat. “You’re the most wonderful, charming, kind, sexy man I’ve ever met.”
“I’ve been stuck in my own lonely world for so long that I couldn’t believe that this girl that walks through my house, that looks after my daughter, that makes my life rich is for me.
That you’re the kind of love I gave up on for myself a long time ago.
” His thumb traces my cheeks. “I would hate for you to think my slight hesitation before I tapped this pussy was because of who you are, Jasmine.”
“Thank you for telling me that.” I kiss the corner of his mouth, then the other, then the tip of his beak-like nose, then his cheeks, then his eyelids and then make my way back to his mouth.
“I adore you, Mr. Grayson. I’ve been in love with you for so long that I don’t know myself without it.
There’s no version of Jasmine Khan that doesn’t love Nathaniel Grayson. ”
His eyes mist up as he catches my lips. “Jasmine Grayson now, as soon as I can make it happen,” he vows. And his kiss... spins me out into stars again. It’s not gentle or sweet this time. It’s dominating, breath-stealing, knee-buckling. Good thing he already plopped me onto the table.
One hand circles my nape while one sinks into my hair, tugging my head up as he lays open-mouthed kisses against my neck and my racing pulse. “Now, about this audio narration gig...”
I bite my lower lip then release it. “What do you want to know?”
“Do you write the stories too? The ones I heard in the car felt pretty... personalized.”
Heat crests my cheeks, but I don’t have to shy away my gaze or feel embarrassed. Not when the man I adore with my every breath is tugging my shorts down my hips. “I’m not as good at writing them as I’m at narrating them.” My bare ass meets the cold grain of the wood.
He stills mid-nod, looks down and groans. “Fuck, baby girl, you came guns blazing into this fight, huh?” He delves between my folds, and his finger comes away sticky with wetness.
I shrug and then shamelessly spread my thighs. “I know how much Daddy likes it when I fight for him. And the ones you heard in the car, I wrote them and narrated just for myself. With Mr. Gray starring in all of them.”
He licks his finger, lapping at my wetness and I let out a scandalous sounding moan. His grin as he pushes his sweatpants down is pure devilish satisfaction. The thick, hard length of his cock bobs up and I can barely breathe. “He sounded familiar to me.”
“Is Daddy jealous of Mr. Gray?” I say, licking my lips.
Nathan’s laughter is as arousing as the tap he gives me with the broad head. “Maybe. Maybe Daddy wants to train his baby girl to be like Mr. Gray’s assistant slash housekeeper?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I say, moaning. But this time the moan is raw and real as Nathan takes that moment to fully thrust into me.
He’s lodged so deep that he steals my breath. “Unnggg....”
“You up for it?” he says, pulling out and thrusting back deep inside. It’s only his firm grip of my shoulder that stops me from sliding back.
“Yes, Daddy. For a whole lifetime,” I whisper, just as his lips find mine. The kiss is sweet, just like I like it. And his claiming of me is rough, possessive, and all-consuming.
Just like I like it.