Now I only want her to surrender to the pleasure I give her…and the possibilities of our future.

  “Come for me, princess.” I swipe my way through her furrow again, drowning in her taste, desperate for her. “Come.”

  Under me, she grips my hair until my scalp tingles, gyrating and mewling, thighs parting more, cunt turning sweeter. “Jett…”

  “Do it.” I suck on her clit, tongue working the stone-hard tip. “Give in.”

  “Jett,” she gasps, the sound rising another octave as her spine twists and her head falls back.

  I glance up at the mirror above. The beautiful agony on her face undoes me. “Goddamn it, you’re mine.”

  Relentlessly, methodically, I dismantle her with my touch. I’m never going to get enough of her. Ever. Hell, I’m still half-dressed, and I feel dangerously close to coming undone.

  Digging my fingers into her, I press her even more tightly against my mouth and work a pair of fingers into her fist-tight sheath, already tightening and clamping around my digits.

  “Jett!”

  I barely have a moment to relish the heady broken cry of her surrender before her entire body jolts and shudders. Then she’s clutching, clasping, and breaking around me. Her nipples peak. Hips to cheeks, her body flushes a splashing rosy red. Her lips part, and her eyes flash open.

  Our gazes meet in the overhead mirror.

  I’ve got her. We both know it.

  I ride her to the end of her orgasm, until she’s struggling to recover her breath and her body turns limp, until she sighs sweetly and reaches for me.

  I can’t wait another second to claim her.

  Goddamn it, I hope she’s the last woman I have sex with for the rest of my life.

  I crawl up her sated body, taking advantage of her spread legs to fit my hips between them. With one hand, I cup her nape and fit our mouths together, reveling in the fact that her kiss no longer holds fight, just sweet, open acceptance. I work my free hand between us, make quick work of my zipper, then get my cock free just enough to align my crest to her still-pulsing opening.

  Her eyes flutter open. Worry crosses her face. “Jett.”

  I grit my teeth. I’ve waited eight years to be inside her, but I can tell she needs to say something. “What, princess?”

  “Gently.” She swallows. “Please.”

  Everything—both the anger and the passion—is so hot between us. And all this time, she’s fought back. Now she’s asking me for mercy. Why? If I wasn’t so rabid to be inside her, I might be able to apply two brain cells toward finding the answer. But I can’t.

  “All right, I will. For you.”

  “Thank you.” She smooths her hands up my arms, then cups my shoulders as she spreads her legs wider in silent invitation.

  Jesus, how am I supposed to maintain any self-control?

  I’m still trying to figure that out when I sink the head of my cock inside her.

  And I run into resistance.

  Whitney isn’t merely tight, she’s… I freeze. No. That’s not possible. There’s no way.

  “Jett?”

  “You’re not…” But she seemingly is. “Still a…virgin?”

  Slowly, she bites her lips. Then she nods.

  Holy shit.

  And yet, she came here to spend a week with me, knowing full well I intended to fuck her?

  That small, problem-solving corner of my brain is working overtime to figure out if that means what I desperately want it to. The rest of me has shoved off all mental protective gear.

  I’m dying to be her first.

  If I play this right, will I be her only?

  At that notion, my heart thuds and thumps. Waiting doesn’t feel like an option. Sure, we could talk, but I don’t want to give her any reason—or opportunity—to get away.

  “Oh, princess.” I nudge inside her, incrementally working my way through her slick clasp until I lunge deep into her with one softly insistent thrust. Then I rock my hips forward, pressing as far into her as I can. “Now you’re mine.”

  Finally.

  If she has any objection, I don’t want to hear it in this moment. At least this once, I want the fuck of my fantasies, where I’m deep inside her, bareback, for the first time, and she’s with me, thrust for thrust, cry for cry, all the way to the scratching, hoarse-throated, cataclysmic end.

  She lets out a soft, shuddering breath, her eyes sliding half shut.

  “Right?” I prompt as I withdraw from her so slowly I groan the question.

  “Yes,” she breathes.

  “Tell me who you belong to.”

  She doesn’t hesitate. “You, Jett.”

  “That’s right.” I glide back in and set up a rhythm I suspect will unravel her restraint. “How long have you belonged to me?”

  Her lashes flutter open. I see tears swimming there. “Always.”

  That’s it. With one trembling admission, there’s no denying she still owns my heart, too.

  I dreamed up this scheme to indulge my every desperate desire, to show her what she was missing, to purge her from my system once and for all.

  She’s felled me instead. Now, my only hope is to fight to keep her.

  “And I’m yours.” I press inside her again, deeper, deeper, where she’s so fucking sweet. Where I want to live. Where no man has been.

  “Jett…”

  I hear the pleading in her voice. My thrusts pick up speed, and she rewards me with a gasp. Her fingers curl around my shoulders. Her thighs do the same to my hips, as if she can hold me against her and keep me here forever.

  I sink deeper into Whitney. Not literally, since I’m already as deep into her as I can be. But figuratively, viscerally, emotionally. And I drown. If she’s how I’m going to die, I’ll go gratefully and willingly, ending my time on earth a happy man.

  I grip her hip with one hand and grab a fistful of her hair with the other, forcing her to look right into my eyes. “I never stopped loving you.”

  The tears spill over. “I never stopped, either.”

  Oh, fuck. That sends my heart careening.

  I bang into her again, each stroke faster and more insistent than the last. “You really love me?”

  Whitney hesitates, then she nods and lets out a low moan full of need and pain.

  “Answer me,” I bark. “Say it.”

  “I love you,” she cries out, holding me tighter, pressing kisses across my shoulder and into my neck.

  That’s all I needed to hear. “I love you, too.”

  And I’m never letting her go. I don’t give two fucks who she’s engaged to, she’s marrying me. And I hope like hell she’s not on birth control because I’m going to do my level best to get a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly this week.

  She’s never getting away again.

  “Oh, princess.” I shuttle into her faster, faster. My lungs work like a bellows.

  “Jett!” she screams seconds before her pussy grips me like a vise, her body jerks, and a low groan tears from her throat.

  I keep pace, doing my best to prolong her pleasure, but I can’t hold out anymore, not physically. Orgasm is going to run me over, ruin me, and it will be the most delicious end ever.

  But I can’t resist emotionally, either. Whitney has my heart; she always has. I’ve been lying to myself about that for far too long.

  As she grips me tighter, the wave crests over me, too. I’m suspended in a pleasure unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Lights flash behind my eyes. There’s a buzzing in my brain. Every part of me from top to toe pings electric. I clutch Whitney and let go, pouring every bit of myself into her.

  There’s no denying it now; I’m hers forever.

  And there’s no going back.

  Clinging and kissing, we come down together, hearts racing, breaths harsh. As if by some unspoken understanding, our gazes connect.

  We both know everything has changed.

  “Did that really just happen?” she whispers. “Did you tell me you love me?”

  A little grin flits at my mouth. Honestly, I haven’t smiled much in years, and it feels good. “Yeah. As we were having sex.”

  “And it’s true?”

  “One-hundred percent.”

  Her lips curl up, brightening her expression. “Wow.”

  “Wow.”

  “So that’s what all the fuss is about?”

  “You could say that.” Honestly, what we shared was so extra, it was news to me, too. “You waited for me?”

  “To have sex?” She nods. “I had opportunities. There was always someone I tried to date or some flirty dude at a party. But I never wanted any of them. No one made me feel like you.”

  “No one has ever made me feel like you, either.” When I’m with Whitney, I’m centered. I’m myself. I’m whole. I never got married or serious with another woman because I couldn’t replicate the feeling I had when I was with her. “How were you going to marry some guy you’d never slept with? And didn’t love?”

  She grimaces. “It was a business deal. You know Vance needs money. My fiancé needs plausible cover because he’s in love with someone he can’t have. He doesn’t have any more interest in me than I have in him.”

  As far as I’m concerned, he’s her former fiancé, but I’ll get to that. “So he never touched you?”

  “Except to give me a peck for some engagement photos, no.”

  Then I won’t have to kill him. Good.

  Reluctantly, I pull free of Whitney’s body. When she winces and shifts, I’m instantly concerned. “You okay, princess? Sore?”

  “A little, but I’m fine.”

  That’s a relief because I’m going to want her again soon.

  For now, I lie back and nestle her body against mine. She rests her head on my chest as if curling up against me is the most natural thing in the world. I caress my way down her back with a light stroke.

  I sigh. We may be in love, but that doesn’t make the road in front of us easy. Eventually, I’ll have to be unflinchingly honest.

  But first, it’s time to talk about the elephant in the room. “What about your brother?”

  We can’t let him stand between us.

  She nibbles on her bottom lip for a long minute. “Being here with you has made me realize I can’t sacrifice my future for him. He has to stop being impulsive and getting himself into stupid situations. And if he doesn’t, I have to stop bailing him out. He regrets everything eventually, but by then…it’s usually too late. I think that’s especially true of you.”

  I have mixed feelings about that. I’ll deal with those later. “Tell me how he got in his current financial situation.”

  How much does she know?

  “A few months ago in Vegas, he was drunk, and some asshole—he won’t tell me who—dared him to bet a stupid amount of money on a hand of poker. It just happened to coincide with the value of his company. I think it was a setup. But like an idiot, Vance did it. And he lost. I was crushed because I went to school to help save and grow this company. Now it’s…gone.” She looks so distressed that I soothe her with a caress.

  “Has he signed it over to this guy yet?”

  “He refused to. I told him that’s not the way the world works, that he needs to grow up and face his consequences. His answer was to call Michael, someone we’ve known personally and professionally for a few years. Vance begged him for a bailout. Michael agreed if I would marry him. Not that anyone asked me.” She shakes her head. “I’ve had cold feet from day one. I’ve wracked my brain to figure out how I can help my brother without sacrificing my future. Then the courier knocked on my door with your note.”

  “And you met me in the bar.”

  Her face softens as she nods. “Not for the money. I couldn’t not see you. I had to know…”

  “If there was anything left between us? I needed to know, too.” And it’s time to come clean. “That’s why I created a fail-safe plan…or so I thought.”

  She props her chin on my chest with a frown. “What plan?”

  “I’m the, um…asshole who got Vance drunk in Vegas and encouraged him to bet the value of his business. I knew he’d lose. For me, it was a win-win. Either I’d get back the company I lost or—more importantly—I could use the debt as leverage to see you again. So I’d finally know if I was still as much in love with you as I suspected. If so, I planned to forgive Vance’s debt if you’d marry me.”

  Whitney gapes. “Why go to all that trouble? Why not just reach out and talk to me?”

  “And risk rejection? My fragile male ego…” I roll my eyes at my foolishness. I’m usually so fearless, especially in business, but knowing Whitney would likely rebuff me terrified me. “I thought you’d tell me to go fuck myself. My negotiations with Vance seemed to be going great—until he suddenly stopped responding to my calls. Then I heard whispers that he’d arranged your marriage to someone else for money. So I came straight to you.”

  “And you sent me the note?”

  I nod. “One way or another, I was going to get my hands on you, princess.”

  She giggles. “I’d say you got a lot more on me than your hands.”

  “Thank god. My sanity couldn’t stand not touching you anymore.” I tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I think I’ve always known you were it for me.”

  “You always have been for me.” She caresses my chest. “I’m sorry I took my brother’s side after that summer. He told me you gave him a few pointers on the app but that he’d actually written it. According to him, you only said you’d created it to impress me. I didn’t believe him, but my dad pressured me to support Vance. If I didn’t, he threatened to have you arrested for touching me. I had no reason to doubt him.”

  As she should have. Vance no doubt spilled my “transgression” to their father to use as leverage. The old man never liked me much and probably saw my lust as leverage to use against me.

  “I get it. You were so young, and they didn’t leave you much choice.”

  “I’ve spent a lot of time hoping I didn’t hurt you too much.” She bit her lip. “But I did.”

  There’s no point in lying. Whitney crushed me. “You didn’t mean to.”

  I see that now.

  “I didn’t,” she rushes to agree. “Even the thought of it killed me. I suspected you hated me for my decision.”

  “I’ll be honest. I tried.”

  “I know. After that summer, you flaunted all your hookups like you were trying to throw them in my face.”

  When I think back on the way I acted out after the rift between Vance and me, I’m ashamed. “I kept hoping like hell you would say or do something because I mattered to you.”

  “You did, and I was hurt.”

  Her quiet admission makes me feel like an ass. “I’m sorry. I wish I could take all that back. The whole rift seems stupid in hindsight. But I was young and dumb, too.”

  “What happens next, Jett?”

  “What do you want?”

  Whitney stretches up and plants a soft kiss on my lips. “I think you know. I want you. I want everything we should have had all along.”

  “I do, too.” My heart starts pounding again for a totally different reason as I reach across the mattress and manage to fumble my way into the top drawer of the nightstand. I pull out an oblong box. “This is yours, no matter what happens between us.”

  She scrambles to sit up as she takes the box in hand. I’d protest the loss of her warm skin against mine, but the view of her breasts is spectacular. And I want to see her face.

  She lifts the lid and plucks up the letter inside. As she scans it, her lips slowly part until she’s gaping. “You’re giving me forty-nine percent of Vance’s company? I don’t understand.”

  “You’ve more than earned it. I know you’ve been trying to advise him for years. I know you’re the reason the business has survived at all. He hasn’t been a good financial steward, but he’s occasionally listened to you. Now I’m giving you real power.”

  “How is this possible? You don’t own—”

  “I do. While Valentin drove you here, I called your brother again. It took some doing, but we finally hashed out a deal. So I own the company. Well, fifty-one percent as of now.”

  “What are you going to do with your part? And with Vance out of the organization, who will run it?”

  “That depends on you. If you want the job, it’s yours.”

  “Really?” Her hazel eyes widen. “You’d let me?”

  “I can’t think of anyone I’d trust more.” I kiss her.

  “Oh, my god. This is like a dream come true,” she squeals. “I went to school for a position like this, so I could handle the responsibility and grow the organization. I mean, it’s still relatively small, but it has so much potential and—”

  “It absolutely does.” Her enthusiasm makes me smile. “You’ve got some amazing tech developers on staff, too.”

  She nods. “I’m so excited about new products and updates we have in the works.”

  “So you’re saying yes to the job?”

  “Yes!”

  “Excellent. I know you’ll be great. And I’ll be your supportive but silent partner.”

  Suddenly, her expression falls. “Is that all?”

  I smile. “What do you think?”

  Whitney looks nervous to jinx herself, but she draws up her courage. “You want to marry me.”

  “I do.” Again, I reach into the drawer at my side and pluck out a smaller, plush square box. “And you want to marry me.”

  “You intend to ask me?”

  Her hint of mischief makes me laugh as I sit up and pull her into my lap with a long, sweet kiss. Then I open the box to reveal a simple, elegant engagement ring that looked like it belonged on her finger the moment I saw it earlier this evening.

  “I love you, Whitney. We’ve both made mistakes and wish we could take back some things we said and did, but all roads led us back to each other. I can’t imagine the journey ahead with anyone but you. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  “Yes!” As I slip the ring on her finger, she cuddles closer and kisses my face. “I love you, too. Oh, my god, now we’re official!”

  Her excitement makes me laugh. I haven’t felt this light in years. “We are.”

  “Why do I get the feeling this may be one of the last times you ask rather than demand anything of me?” She grins.