Chapter Nine #2
"I missed you last night," I growl, my hands digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises.
"I couldn't fucking sleep because I didn't have your taste in my mouth and your body tucked up against mine.
I didn't have your juices dripping down my balls or your nails in my skin.
" I nip her throat, slamming her down on me again and again.
She bounces with every thrust, moaning my name and clawing at my shoulders.
"I'm going to fuck you like this every damn day for the rest of my life if you marry me. "
"Yes!" she shouts, and I'm not sure if she's saying yes to marrying me or yes to the idea of fucking me like this every day forever, but she isn't saying no, and right now, that's all that matters.
I fuck her until my legs feel like they're going to give out. Until all I feel is her and the way she clenches around me. She's perfect, so goddamn perfect.
"Come for me, sweetness," I whisper, slipping one hand behind her to play with her asshole. As soon as I touch that entrance, arousal floods between her legs, drenching me. She fucking loves it. "I need to feel you squeezing the fuck out of my cock right now."
"Lincoln," she gasps.
I press my thumb against her asshole, just hard enough for her to feel me there, and then she's coming again, her body convulsing as waves wrack her.
"I love you! I love you!"
Something about hearing her shouting those three words while she's mid-orgasm does it for me. I wrap one hand around her throat, gently choking her as I pound into her, fucking her like a madman until she's screaming her way through another powerful orgasm, tears leaking down her cheeks.
"Lilah!" I roar, planting myself deep as she tips me over the edge with her. I come hard, spilling into her again and again.
Somehow, I manage to spin us and then slide down the wall with my dick still inside her, collapsing. She falls forward against me, panting into my throat and trembling.
"You okay, sweetness?"
"Ask me tomorrow," she mumbles. "I can't feel my body right now."
I just chuckle and hold her tighter, happier than I think I've ever been.
"Did you mean it?" she asks after a moment. "You really want to marry me?"
I tip her head back, making sure her eyes are on me. "I've never meant anything more, little bookworm." I shift to the side, shoving my hand into my pocket to pull out the ring. I hold it out to her. "I even bought you this."
Her eyes go wide with awe, her bottom lip quivering. She reaches out a shaking hand, one finger stroking across the diamond. "It's so beautiful."
It doesn't even compare to the woman in my arms, but it's the only ring I found that even comes close to being worthy to rest around her finger. It's a three-carat Marquise diamond on a platinum band.
"Marry me," I whisper. Part of me wants to just slip it on her finger and tell her that she already said yes, so she can't take it back now. But the other part wants to hear her say it again. I want her to be completely lucid when she agrees, so I can live on that memory for the next six decades.
"Yes," she says without hesitation, and then bites her lip. "But I have conditions."
"Name them," I growl, ready to give her anything she wants.
"If you buy the building, your name has to go on the deed, too," she whispers. "And I get to pay for some of it. I don't have enough to pay for the whole thing, but I can at least pay a portion."
Everything in me wants to object. I want to do this for her, help make all her dreams come true, but I swallow the objection back because I know her. And I know how important her independence is to her. Even before Jasmine warned me, I saw it.
She'll never be satisfied with letting me do everything for her. If she wanted easy, she would have called her dad as soon as I showed up. If she wanted to be taken care of, she'd be living a pampered life instead of running this place herself.
She needs independence and a partner who will love her for who she is, not one who wants to sweep in and make her less.
She deserves a partner who celebrates her and every facet of her personality, not one who tries to fit her into a box never meant to contain someone like her.
I can be that man for her. I will be that for her, because there isn't a goddamn thing wrong with her.
And hell will freeze over before I let another man love her the way she deserves.
Every loud, messy, beautiful piece of her is mine.
"I can agree to that," I whisper, brushing my lips across her forehead.
She melts against me, relief shining in her eyes before she rests her head against my chest, all soft and content.
"You really called your dad, huh?" I ask, running my fingers down her back.
"I did," she whispers. "Are you mad about it?"
"Hell no, sweetness."
"For a minute today, I thought you might be ghosting me."
I sink my hand into her hair, craning her head back. "That'll never happen."
"I know." She smiles at me. "It was just a passing worry, based more on my own history than on you. It didn't last long because I know you. You aren't that kind of man."
"No, I'm not," I agree softly. "I'll never just walk away from you."
"I've been worried," she whispers, her smile slipping.
"About me leaving you?"
"No. About what would happen between us once you bought the building.
I was afraid it'd break my heart, and I'd never get over it," she admits.
"I've never been a very gracious loser, especially when something matters, Lincoln.
And I really hated the thought of losing you just because I couldn't get over it.
" She sighs softly. "I would have regretted pushing you away forever. "
"I wasn't going to let that happen," I murmur, holding her gaze. "I think I knew I couldn't take the building from you the day I met you. I was sure of it when you got all fired up, telling me why you chose this place."
"I love it here," she whispers, her gaze earnest. "I was scared I'd resent you if you took it, but I don't think I would have. Maybe it would have stung for a while, but I think I would have gotten over it. You know why?"
"Why?"
"Because I'd rather have you. This place is a big part of my dream, but it just wouldn't feel the same if the price was losing you."
I press my lips to hers, my kiss soft. "Now, you'll have both, sweetness. That's what you deserve, you know. To have everything you want. You might not let me give it to you, but I'm going to try like hell anyway."
"I have everything I want already," she whispers against my lips, smiling. "This is the best day ever."
I smile because she isn't wrong.
"So, you aren't actually the devil," Jasmine says early the next morning, smirking at me with her hands on her hips. "Good to know."
"Thank you," I murmur to her, not for the compliment, but for telling me the truth. It was the push I needed to do what I already knew I needed to do. Like I told Lilah, I think I knew from the very beginning that I couldn't take the building from her.
Projects come and go. There's only one Lilah, and the way she loves this place means something.
So do the history and significance of the building.
I don't want to be the one to tear it all down.
Sometimes, the best progress is learning when things are already exactly as they need to be and then doing what's required to help them flourish.
"You can thank me by making her happy," Jasmine says. "It's what she deserves." Her gaze drifts across me. "And if you don't, I know where you work." She bats her lashes at me. "I know where you sleep, too."
Somehow, the subtle threat is more impactful when it's delivered by someone five-two with ruby-red lipstick and a messy bun. Probably because she means it.
Jasmine Knudsen is a terrifying woman.
"Duly noted," I murmur, shaking my head.
"Jazz, are you harassing him again?" Lilah calls, poking her head out of the back, a smile on her face. I don't think it's really left her face at all since last night. She's so damn happy, she's glowing.
"Who, me?" her best friend asks, her tone all innocence. "I would never."
"Uh-huh," Lilah mutters. "Just like you weren't the one who poured sugar in Kyle's gas tank. And slashed his tires. And left a flaming bag of shit on his steps."
"Wasn't me," Jasmine lies.
"Kyle?" I quirk a brow in question.
"The guy from college," Lilah explains.
"Ah, the asshole who didn't deserve you."
"Yeah, him."
I hold my fist out for Jasmine to bump, earning a surprised laugh as she bumps it with hers. "Good job," I say.
"Lincoln!" Lilah cries.
"What? He deserved it," I growl.
"He did," Jasmine agrees, bobbing her head. "Someone should have pulled his spine out through his asshole."
"I can make that happen."
"Oh, no, you can't," Lilah growls, burrowing into my arms like she's trying to use her body to stop me. "He's not even worth a spot in my memories. He's definitely not worth you going to jail. We have a wedding to plan, remember?"
"Fuck yeah, we do." I tip her head back, meeting her gaze. "But you should know…I have conditions."
She eyes me warily. "What kind of conditions?"
"If you even think about wearing Spanx, I'll be spanking your ass as soon as I cut them off of you. And no bra allowed."
"Jesus Christ," Jasmine mutters, heading for the back. "I do not need to hear this conversation. I'm going to drink wine and pretend I didn't even hear that part."
Lilah just laughs in response, lifting up on her toes to press her lips to mine. "Those are the best damn conditions I've ever heard."
"Thought you might like them."
She grins at me, her eyes alight with happiness.
"Fuck," I growl, pressing my lips to hers. "You're so goddamn beautiful, baby. And you're all mine."
"Yeah," she whispers against my lips, twining her arms around my neck. "I am."