Chapter 29 Abbie #3
"Laminated," he groans, and somehow even that is filthy when he's buried to the hilt. "Preserved, locked, forever. Whatever word makes you come on this floor—"
I come first, loud, shameless, thighs shaking around his hips, the hand at my throat the exact pressure that tips me over. He follows with a shout into my mouth, hips jerking, wrist-hold tightening then releasing as he remembers to be careful even while wrecked.
We collapse into a sticky, laughing heap on the ruined rug. Cushions everywhere. My dress is a rumor around my waist. His jeans are still somehow half-on. The ring catches afternoon light every time I move my hand, and I keep looking at it like it might vanish.
He presses a kiss to my temple, then to the peak of my belly, then to the pulse point at my throat where his hand just was.
"You asked for that," he murmurs, wonderstruck. "Throat. Floor. All of it."
"I did." I turn my head and kiss him soft. "Happy and desperate looks good on us."
"Ruined rug looks good on us."
"We're buying a new one."
"I'll buy ten." His fingers find mine, trace the ring. "Anything. Everything. You chose me out loud in a living room with your own hands. I'm going to be disgusting about it for decades."
"Starting now?"
"Starting the second I can feel my legs." He laughs into my hair. "Give me five minutes. Then I'm carrying you to an actual bed like a man with manners."
"Don't. I like the floor." I stretch, wincing happily, settling more comfortably against him.
"For resting?" Gray guesses.
"For more," I correct, shameless, and his answering groan is so put-upon and so into it that I start laughing again and can't stop.
Before we finally drag cushions into a nest he stands, peels the rest of his clothes off properly, and helps me out of the wrecked dress. Naked in afternoon light, seven months round, ring on, I watch him look at me and feel no urge to cover anything.
"You're staring again," I say.
"I'm committing a felony with my eyes." He steps in, cups my belly with both hands, kisses me soft. "Happy looks good on you. Desperate looks good on you. Both at once might actually end me."
"Survive it." I nip his jaw. "I need you alive for elevators and sticky notes and the next fifty years of laminated nonsense."
"Fifty?"
"Minimum."
He laughs, scoops a cushion off the floor with his foot, and builds us a ridiculous nest right where we fell. We sink into it. My head finds his chest. His arm finds my back. The ring flashes. Somewhere in the kitchen the laptop waits, patient as a dare we already answered with our bodies.
"Gray," I whisper.
"Right here."
"Make me again sometime." I smile against his skin. "The shut-up kind. The floor kind. The kind where I pin a Valentine and he lets me."
"Anytime," he says. "Any room. Any rug. I'm catastrophically available."
After a while his hand stills on my back.
"You okay?" Gray asks.
"Yeah." I shift so I can see his face. "I keep thinking about the elevator."
"What elevator?"
"The first day. VTG. The elevator that got stuck." I trace a pattern on his chest, remembering. "You were so annoyed. You had this meeting you were late for, and you kept checking your watch like that would make the doors open faster."
"I wasn't annoyed."
"You were absolutely annoyed."
"I was trying not to panic. Then, after you helped me, I was trying to figure out how to ask for your number without sounding like every other asshole in a suit." He catches my hand, presses a kiss to my palm. "You were wearing that green dress. The one that matched your eyes."
"You remember that?"
"I remember everything about that day." His voice goes soft. "I remember thinking, there's no way this girl is going to go out with me. I remember thinking, I need to make her laugh or I'm going to die. I remember the exact moment you smiled at me and I knew I was completely, irreversibly fucked."
"Romantic."
"Accurate."
I laugh, and it feels good. Easy, in a way nothing has felt easy for a very long time. "I thought you were an arrogant jerk."
"Also accurate."
"I thought, this guy is clearly rich and clearly successful and clearly used to getting whatever he wants. There's no way I'm giving him my number."
"And yet."
"And yet." I lift my head, look at him properly. "You made me laugh. That terrible joke about your grandfather being pretentious."
"It was a great joke."
"It was an objectively terrible joke, and I laughed anyway, and I knew I was in trouble." I settle back against him. "Nearly ten years ago. It feels like forever. It feels like yesterday."
"It feels like exactly enough time to know that I want ten more." He tightens his arm around me. "And ten after that. And ten after that."
"That's a lot of math."
"I'm a lot in love with you."
I close my eyes. His arm rests across my back.
"Hey," Gray says quietly.
"Hmm?"
"Welcome home."
My coffee is cold in the kitchen. The laptop is open, the statement ready to send.
But right now, in this moment, there's just this. This house. This man. This choice I keep making and will keep making for as long as I'm able.
"Yeah," I say, and the word tastes like the truth. "I think I am."