I wasn’t kidding when I told Rielle we’d have to move fast. By the end of the night, I’ve confided in my closest friends and teammates, bought Rielle a ring, and scanned the papers Bill sent over. I’m changing into sweats for the night, when I glance at the clock. It’s nearing midnight and Rielle still isn’t home.
You’re not her keeper.
Still, a flicker of worry flares in my chest. I still don’t know the full story about her student loans. I don’t know the full story with the fuckhead ex-boss who touched her. I don’t know any of Rielle’s full stories and I have no clue where she is. With each minute that passes, my nerves jump and my concern increases.
What am I doing? Two nights ago, I didn’t think twice about Rielle Carter unless I was picturing her plump lips closing over my cock and how sweet it would feel to sink inside of her. Now, I’m stressed because a handful of hours have passed and she hasn’t checked in.
Is this what marriage is like? Constantly worrying about someone?
I sigh and tug on my sweatpants. Pausing, I take in my room, as if I’m seeing it through new eyes. The mahogany furniture, the sturdy, boxy bed frame, the gray and black comforter. Everything about it screams bachelor and for years, I reveled in that. But now, I wish it was a little softer. I wish it had a woman’s touch. Rielle’s.
I’m reaching for my T-shirt when the apartment door latch catches. I hear a burst of giggling. Grinning to myself, I toss my clothes in the hamper and make my way out of my bedroom.
Then, I freeze. Because Rielle is standing in the center of the living room. Her arms are raised over her head, her expression, cast in moonlight, is dreamy. Her eyes are closed, her body swaying to whatever music she’s turning over in her mind.
But that body. I work a swallow. She’s dressed in skintight leather pants and a cropped top. The sexiest boots I’ve ever seen mold over her knees. Her hair is a wild tangle of curls, tumbling down her back.
She must feel my gaze because she stops moving and turns to glance at me over her shoulder.
Black eyes that glint and burn. A lush mouth that’s sinful in its ability to tempt. Curves my hands are desperate to feel. My throat dries, my eyes widen, and I take a tentative step closer.
“Rielle.” My voice is raspy, deep.
Rielle grins and it hits me straight in the chest. “Hello, soon-to-be husband.”
Husband. It’s the one word I focus on and I like the way it sounds coming from her mouth. A hell of a lot more than I’m supposed to.
I grin and close the space between us. She’s obviously tipsy. “How much did you drink?”
“More than I meant to.” She wrinkles her nose and it’s adorable.
“You know we were supposed to look over papers tonight, right?”
She nods, her mouth pushing into a pout. “I know. And I swear I didn’t set out for this.”
“Trouble just finds you?” I tease.
She winces. “It’s a byproduct of being best friends with Claire.”
I laugh and sit down on the couch. Even though I shouldn’t, I pull her into my lap. She doesn’t shift to move away so I wrap my arms around her casually. “How did Claire take the news?”
“Not very well,” she whispers, her expression serious.
Shit. My heart sinks a little at her words.
“Hence the drinks,” she adds.
I nod, frowning.
“But once I told her the full story about Stu, she came around.”
“I still want the full story about Stu.”
She blushes and dips her head. “After we talked, she insisted on an impromptu bachelorette. Indy was our DD.”
Of course she did. Claire Merrick is the life of any and every party. But she’s also a loyal friend, protective and caring of those she loves. And I know she adores Rielle. Some of my worry recedes knowing Claire is supporting Ri in this decision.
Rielle’s hand trails down my bare torso, her touch light.
“You definitely don’t look thirty-seven,” she murmurs.
I chuckle, fighting the urge to flex for her like a twenty-year-old punk. “That’s cause I’m practically thirty-eight.”
She snorts.
“We can look at the papers and sign tomorrow morning. I have to be at the arena at two for a team meeting and to get ready for our game tomorrow night. If all looks good, we’ll be getting hitched in two days. Right before I leave for Tampa.”
Her eyes snap up to mine, wide and brimming with more emotion than she usually shows.
“You really want to be my husband, Torst?”
She asks the question softly, as if she’s unsure of the answer. As if she wants the answer to mean more than just some contract we both sign. And God, I want it to mean more than that too.
I nod, not trusting my voice. I clear my throat. “I like the way that sounds more than I should.” My fingers swipe over her hip, my hand palming her thigh.
She shifts her weight so she can wrap her arms around my neck. “I shouldn’t like that you like it as much as I do.”
My eyebrows lift and I smile. Her hands slide down the back of my neck and palm my shoulders. I sit perfectly still as her fingers explore my arms, my upper back, before wrapping back around my neck.
The space between us hums with awareness that wasn’t there earlier. It’s potent and intense and could be goddamn electrifying if we gave into its pull.
“How much have you had to drink?”
She shakes her head, the ends of her hair tickling my hand. “Not nearly enough. I can hold my liquor.”
“I’m learning that, sweetheart.”
I watch as her eyelids drop to half-mast. My breathing ticks up a notch. My fingers slide up from her thigh, over her hip, until I can touch the exposed skin of her lower back. I flirt with the waistband of her leggings, dipping the edges beneath the leather until I graze the lace of her thong.
I need to stop touching her. Right now. Five seconds ago. My hand stills.
We’re making an agreement. We’re signing a contract.
Nowhere in it does it include this. An attraction that is gripping in its intensity, desperate in its need.
Rielle leans forward, her chest colliding with mine. “Rielle.” Her name is a plea on my lips. It comes out protective and concerned, tender and caring, and all the things in between.
“Are you going to kiss me at the altar?” she asks, her voice so throaty I feel it everywhere.
“Do you want me to?” My hand slides lower, until my palm molds to her ass. I squeeze and she gasps. “Tell me.”
Slowly, she nods. And fuck, I want to kiss her at the altar. Right now, I want it to already be our wedding day. So I can meet her at the altar, kiss her senseless, carry her over the goddamn threshold, and give her a proper wedding night. But that’s the kind of dangerous thinking that will set us up for trouble down the road.
“Then we should practice,” she murmurs.
“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re making this hard.” My hand not currently down her pants cups the side of her neck and slides up to her cheek. I angle her head with one hand to stare into her eyes. Hunger and need spark with desire and I groan, already hard and thick and pressing into her.
She shifts closer and reaches for me, her eyes boring into mine, holding me captive.
I swear and lose my restraint. My mouth arcs down and she closes her eyes just as my lips touch hers. I kiss her hard, with purpose. With intent. Once, twice, and then, my tongue slips inside her mouth and I kiss her with unbridled want.
Her arms wrap all the way around my neck and she pulls herself up my body, our chests pressed together. My hand resting against her ass grips hard until she twists in my lap and straddles me. Our exchange morphs, turning needy and borderline desperate. My mouth drags from her lips to her neck. My hand slides lower, my fingertips slipping under the material of her thong to tease her core.
I swear. She’s so fucking wet for me. She wants this as much as I do and yet… “Tell me you want this, Ri.”
She digs her nails into my back. “I want you, Torsten.” As soon as she says the words, I’m moving us through the kitchen and into my bedroom.
I drop her in the center of my bed and step back, just to admire her, to remember this moment.
I hold her gaze as she works her crop top over her head. I rock back on my heels when her breasts bounce free. She’s not even wearing a bra.
I grip her ankles and pull until she’s lying flat on my bed. Then, I slowly unzip her sexy boots and tug them off her feet. Next, I roll down the leather leggings, inch by inch. They’re so goddamn tight, they could be a second skin.
My breathing ticks up, my eyes scanning her body and trying to memorize every dip and curve. Trying to track it all like she’s suddenly going to disappear.
When she’s spread out beneath me in nothing but a black lace thong, I drink her in, knowing it will never be enough. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing, of knowing, Rielle.” The words are quiet but I mean them. I don’t say things like this to women. I never lead them on, never make promises I can’t keep. I just search and hope and wish for more. Now, Rielle is granting me the more and dammit, it means something even though it’s not supposed to. “I mean it. There’s no one like you.”
Tenderness blazes through her eyes, intense and heady and sincere. She reaches out, her fingertips brushing against the tops my shoulders but I step back. “I have something for you.”
She frowns, leaning up onto her elbows. Nervous energy zips through my body. Rielle is practically naked in my bed and I’m the one who feels vulnerable, whose heart is about to beat out of my chest. I reach into the top drawer of my dresser and remove the small pouch containing her ring.
She watches me, mesmerized, as my big fingers fumble with the strings. I laugh again. “I tied it too tightly. I was nervous I’d lose it before I had a chance to give it to you.”
She sits straight up, her eyes wide, her mouth dropping open.
I drop to my knees for the second time in her presence and take her hand in mine. “We’re doing this all backwards. But I don’t care because our story is quickly becoming my favorite.”
She draws in a sharp inhale, her fingers trembling in mine.
I wish I knew what she’s thinking. I wish I knew if I was scaring the hell out of her or if she was pleased or pitying me for being so goddamn emotional over a contract. But when I gaze into Rielle’s eyes, everything that passes between us feels like more than just an agreement. Fine, it may not be happily-ever-after and stars and rainbows, but it’s real.
It’s mine and hers.
I work a swallow and forge ahead. “Rielle Carter, I know this isn’t a traditional love story. I know we have an expiration date and are jumping into this for less than honest reasons.” The corner of her mouth tugs up and for one blink, she looks more like a wishful girl than a fierce woman. “But I swear to you, I will respect and cherish you always, even when you’re no longer mine. I admire your strength, am in awe of your courage, and feel both small and tall in your presence. Thank you for agreeing to marry me.” I slip the ring on her finger.
She gasps as she holds out her hand and admires the diamond on the ring finger of her left hand. It’s elegant—a two-carat diamond in a princess cut, with a thin platinum band. I hold my breath, waiting for her reaction, hoping like hell she likes it.
“I love it. It’s beautiful,” she says, looking up at me. “You picked the perfect ring.”
I smile, relief unspooling through my limbs. “I picked the perfect girl.”
She wrinkles her nose at my being so corny and I laugh. But I still mean it. I’ve dated scores of women and none of them have come close to Ri. “Now…” I shift until I’m hovering over her. She lays back against the mattress as I crawl up her body. “I’m going to make you scream my name, sweetheart. But I’m saving sex for our wedding night.” I drop a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, her lips.
“What?” she snorts, her thighs clenching together. “After that speech and this ring”—she holds up her hand—“you’re going to make me wait for it?”
“Promise, I’ll make it so good for you,” I swear, dragging the tip of my nose along her jawline. I nip at her earlobe and my hand finds her breast, massaging it.
She whimpers, arching into me.
“And after you say ‘I do,’ if you still want this, with me, I’ll light you up, babe. But if we get one thing right, it’s going to be our wedding night.” I pull back to look at her and note the vulnerability in her expression. I feel it reflected in mine and admit the truth. “You’re the only woman I’ll ever marry, Rielle. And call me old-fashioned but the wedding night…”
“You want a traditional one?” she whispers.
I nod, feeling a blush work over my cheeks. Jesus, I’m the goddamn blushing bride in this arrangement.
She laughs but then shakes her head. “Your logic is endearing, Torsten.” She bites her bottom lip. “You’re much more romantic than I thought you’d be.”
I chuckle and slide my palm down her body. “But we can still play tonight. If you want.”
She slips her hand up my arm and around my back, bringing my lips to hers. She kisses me hard. Deep. “I’d like that,” she whispers, right as my fingers dip under the material of the scrap of lace between her legs.
I breathe out a tortured sigh. “How long have you been this wet for me, Ri?”
“Since I was getting ready to go out tonight,” she admits, her words unleashing a torrent of lust through my veins. I push one, then two, fingers inside of her and swear.
The sound of her arousal mixed with our panting is the only sound in the room for several long seconds. It turns her on even more and I’m painfully hard, more desperate for her touch than for my next breath.
“Lie back, baby. Let me take care of you,” I murmur.
She does as I say but shakes her head. “Let me see you, Torsten.”
My eyes are already sinking closed. Slowly, I drag my fingers away from her and shed my sweatpants. My cock springs free, ready to fucking burst. She draws in a sharp inhale and licks her lips.
Fuck. I hold her eyes as I pump my hand over my shaft, using her arousal as lube. Her eyes are hooded, the tip of her tongue swiping over her bottom lip. She’s so goddamn sexy, such a fucking temptress.
I can’t tear my eyes away as she brings her hands up to her bare breasts and touches herself, never dragging her gaze away from my hand wrapped around myself.
“Fuck,” I murmur. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”
“No pun intended,” she breathes out.
I snort and move back to the bed. I pull her body to the edge of the mattress and dip down to my knees. Then, I hook her thighs over my shoulders and push her thong to the side.
She arches off the bed, her eyes closing in anticipation of what’s coming.
She shivers as I blow on her sensitive flesh. Right before my mouth pleasures her, I admit, “If we’re not careful, I’m going to think this is for real, Rielle.”
Then my mouth covers her and she bucks off the bed.
She never responds to my confession and I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed by her silence.