“You’re so beautiful, Jasmine.” He kissed her cheek. “I love you so much.” He kissed her jaw. “I want you so badly.” He kissed her mouth. And yet he caressed her slowly, gently, as if he had all the time in the world. Still, she let the words fill her up, let them settle inside her heart and warm her soul. He loved her, and she believed him. He wanted her and she wasn’t afraid.
When his finger finally slid over her slit, she had to choke back a scream. Her spine bowed, tension almost at breaking point as the crest of her arousal built impossibly higher. He dipped into her cunt, his finger easing inside her, just a little. She felt herself clench around him, the urge uncontrollable. He kissed her hard, and then just as suddenly he pulled back.
“Is that what you wanted, love?”
“More,” she gasped, her hips moving without permission, beyond her control.
“Not yet, angel. Show me what you need.” He caught her lower lip between his teeth, bit down, released her. “Fuck yourself on my hand, Jas.”
She didn’t even hesitate. She needed too much, wanted too badly, felt on the verge of shrugging off her body and floating up to heaven. She worked her hips, her leg tightening around his body, pressure building inside her. He gave her another finger and she moaned as she worked them deeper, as she rode the digits as if they were his cock.
Then his thumb found her clit, circling it slowly. Their gazes caught and held as he massaged the swollen bud, steady and firm and perfect despite her jerking hips. She squeezed her eyes shut as the pleasure of it all overwhelmed her. Then he growled, his voice almost unrecognisable, “Look at me.”
She opened her eyes and felt like something in her was shattering. “Fuck. Fuck, I love you.”
His lips found hers, his control evaporating. She felt it in the frantic press of his lush mouth, the thrust of his tongue—and then his fingers moved inside her, deeper than she’d managed to take them, echoing the rhythm of his kiss. The thumb circling her clit came faster, and everything inside her tightened unbearably, and then all at once—
He swallowed her cries hungrily, held her close as she shook and writhed against him, as the world tilted and rearranged itself around her. When the orgasm washed gently away and her body turned limp, she felt his lips press against her forehead. Then the warmth of his presence faded for a moment as he moved away, but before she could worry, he was back. She heard the slick, sharp tear of foil, and then he settled over her.
In the white and golden world beneath the sheets, she gazed up at him and ran wondering fingers across his face. The sharp line of his nose, his jaw, his cheekbones. He closed his eyes as she explored, that furrow forming between his brows, exquisite pain and pleasure on his face.
Then he looked down at her, and the love she saw in him stole her breath.
He slid a hand under her head, his fingers twining through her hair, his palm cupping her skull. His other hand grasped her shoulder, and his hips spread her thighs wide. “Put me inside you, Jasmine.”
She reached between them and found the searing heat of his cock, the condom slick and tight over his skin. She stroked him gently, and he groaned, his hips twisting.
“Now,” he gritted out. He wasn’t smiling anymore, wasn’t teasing now.
With her other hand she cupped his balls, squeezed slightly, and felt the firm flesh fill her palm. His cock twitched as he moaned. A smile tugging at her lips, she guided him to her entrance.
He pushed inside and she gasped as the sweet stretch began, as he spread her wider, opened her up and filled her. The thick, stiff intrusion curled her toes, had her arching up against him, begging for more until low moans stole her words.
As he thrust, the hand on her shoulder pushed her down, forcing her onto his cock. His hold caged her, surrounded her, even as his length pumped into her. She grabbed his arse with both hands, her nails digging into the shifting muscle.
“More,” she gritted out, the electric beginnings of another orgasm curling inside her. “Fuck me. Please, Rahul, please, please—”
“Yes. God, yes.” He kissed her hard, and gave her exactly what she’d asked for. His thrusts were powerful, almost violent, their bodies smacking together as he pounded into her. He held her tight and fucked her deep and their mouths never parted, her gasps merging with his low groans.
Jasmine raised her hips, shifting to meet him until every stroke of his cock rubbed at something electric and desperate inside her. His hand left her shoulder, trailed down her body to grab a greedy handful of her arse—and then he slid his fingers over her tightest hole, and pushed gently, not enough to penetrate, but enough to send sparks of dizzying pleasure dancing up her spine.
She ground against him, her movements frantic and clumsy and desperate, bringing perfection ever closer, until it was there. She came hard, so fucking hard. For a moment she barely remembered where she was—who she was—as pure pleasure overtook her.
Then she felt his thrusts stutter and speed up, heard him rasp out her name on a breath, so soft in comparison to the power of his body over hers. His cock jerked inside her as he collapsed, letting her take his weight. He knew she loved that. Knew she lived for the feeling of him anchoring her after they’d floated so high.
After a few moments of heavy breathing and senselessness, he ran a gentle hand over her hair. “Stay here tonight,” he murmured.
For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she felt her cheeks heat. “I don’t really have a way of getting home, anyway.”
“I’ll take you,” he said. “I’ll drive you, if you want. Stay here.”
She took a steadying breath. Then she kissed his cheek. “Okay.”
“Good.” He held her close and kissed her senseless. She waited for familiar panic to claw at her.
All she felt was happiness.
While Rahul went to deal with the condom, Jasmine lay back against the pillows and threw the covers off. She didn’t need them. Even her body temperature was onboard with the whole ‘perfect’ vibe. She wasn’t even worried about the fact that she’d just rubbed her hair all over cotton sheets, probably turning it into a mess.
She had Rahul. Rahul. He was… hers? She nodded firmly. Yes. Definitely hers. “Definitely.”
“Who are you talking to?”
She looked over at the doorway and found him leaning against the wall, arms folded, a smile on his face.
“Oh, you know,” she grinned. “Just having a little chat with myself.”
“Of course.” He came over to the bed, and she watched the way his muscles flexed beneath his skin as he moved. Graceful, powerful. As if he were prowling towards her rather than walking.
When he lay beside her, Jasmine wrapped her arms around him automatically. Not holding on to him felt irresponsible.
He ran a thumb over her lips. “Your makeup put up a good fight, but…”
She could see faded, red stains smeared faintly across his lips, over his jaw. “Whatever.” She kissed the tip of his thumb.
His lips twitched. “Mm. We should talk.”
Her heart fell, of course. But she told it very sternly to behave itself and stop expecting the worst. Then she schooled her features into what she hoped was pleasant acceptance and said, “Okay.”
His hand cupped her jaw. “I’m not going to ask you to move in with me, or marry me, or carry multiple babies right now.”
“But in future,” she murmured, “you expect at least a hundred babies, I assume.”
“Fifty is the bare minimum.” He replied solemnly. “But what I’m trying to say is that… I don’t want to overwhelm you. I don’t want to steam in with ideas about where we should be, because I’ve been in this place a lot longer than you have. I want you to take the lead.”
Ah. She nodded slowly. “That sounds… good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. Except I didn’t really think this far ahead, because I—well, I wasn’t expecting this to happen. I didn’t expect you to forgive me.”
He frowned slightly.
“Jasmine. It’s not even about forgiveness. I already understood why you reacted the way you did. And I know what you said earlier, but you have been good to me. Always. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” He kissed her softly, and she wondered how he always knew when to do that. Every time she found herself missing the touch of his lips, he was there. “We just… You needed to work through some stuff. I needed to work through some stuff.”
She spluttered, her brows flying up. “You?”
“Yeah, me.” He grinned, and, as always, the sight did terrible things to her. But this smile was slightly, sweetly self-conscious, as well as sexy. He ran a hand through his hair, rising up on one elbow to look at her. “I mean, you do realise how weird it is that I was secretly in love with you for almost a decade?”
“Oh, we’re rounding up now?”
He huffed out a laugh. “For emphasis, yes.”
She smiled up at him, her fingers moving to play with his chest hair. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about how we were. When I met you, it felt like… like meeting someone I’d already known my whole life. And I always felt so close to you. Remember when you moved to London?”
He sighed. “Don’t remind me. That was a fucking disaster.”
She frowned at the look on his face. “I thought you enjoyed that?”
He shook his head. “I did, sometimes. Parts of it. All of it, except the fact that you weren’t there, which kind of ruined everything. I only applied because I thought… I thought staying away from you would help. I thought I could fall out of love with you.” He shrugged ruefully. “Obviously, that didn’t work.”
She bit her lip. It was still so surreal to reinterpret everything she’d ever thought about him—about them. To realise that every time she’d found herself watching him too closely, needing him too sharply, telling him things she shouldn’t and seeking him out whenever her heart ached, he’d been wanting her. If she’d been a different person, she might’ve realised how he felt a long time ago. It had become apparent, in the past couple of months, that everyone else had.
“I’m glad it didn’t work,” she said finally. “But I don’t like thinking of… of all the ways I must have hurt you.”
“Hurt me? Because you didn’t want to be with me? No, Jas.” He drew her against his chest. “If I thought like that, I’d be an entitled prick. Love doesn’t need anything in return.” He paused. “But, to be clear, I am very much enjoying getting something in return.”
She snorted. “I bet.”
“Behave.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “We should sleep.”
“I’m not tired.” Even though she’d been out half the night, and even though she had work tomorrow, she couldn’t just… go to sleep. Energy hummed through her veins. She’d never been so wide awake.
He trailed a hand over the length of her body, his palm following the curve of her hip, her thigh. “I’ll have to wear you out then.”
She snorted.
Rahul grinned. “You don’t think I can?”
“Under normal circumstances, maybe.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but it was hard when he kept stroking her. Heat followed his touch. “I haven’t had sex in months. I’m impossible to wear out right now.”
He laughed, even as he rolled on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. Then, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes, he murmured, “Wanna bet?”
Epilogue
SEVEN YEARS LATER
Jasmine smoothed back her son’s wild hair and slid his unicorn headband into place. Then she picked him up by his squishy little middle and turned him to look in the mirror.
Amit’s eyes widened in delight. He began to pat the glittering horn popping up from his head with both chubby hands. “Oh, shiny, Mama! Look!”
“Yes, my love.” She pressed a kiss to his impossibly soft cheek, then set him down on the floor. “Off you go, then.”
At her words, he suddenly remembered the fact that he didn’t want to be here at all. His cousins were in the playroom building some sort of mammoth Lego tower, and Jasmine had plucked him from their midst to get all that hair out of his eyes.
He bolted out into the hall and she tried not to be anxious about his speed. Rahul was always telling her that no matter how fragile their three-year-old might seem, he was actually quite sturdy, and needed to ‘explore the world’ or some such rubbish. She listened, because Rahul did have nine nieces and nephews, after all.
She followed her son from the bathroom at a much more sedate pace, watching his chubby legs disappear around a corner at the end of the hall. She almost didn’t notice her husband leaning right by the bathroom door—until he reached out and caught her hand as she passed.
“Oh!” She pressed her other hand to her chest, her heart pounding. And not just because he’d surprised her.
Jasmine’s husband was despicably gorgeous.
“Afternoon, wife.” He pushed her back into the bathroom, lips tilted, eyes warm as melting chocolate. “I see the little mischief is enjoying himself.”
“You know he loves visiting his cousins. What are you doing up here?”
“I came to check on my boy, actually, but you beat me to it.” He followed her in and shut the door behind them. She heard the click of the lock, and then he gave her that rakish smile and her blood heated.
“Is… is the cricket done, then?” She asked.
“No. But I want you.”
Jasmine grinned like a fool. Not on purpose, exactly; more because hearing him say that, even after all this time, started a burst of happiness in her chest that spilled over uncontrollably.
He dragged her towards him and turned, pressing her against the door. His hands caught hers, their fingers twining together as he raised her arms over her head. She swallowed and studied the familiar lines and curves of his face, the sharp brows and the soft lips, the gentle curls of his hair. He always wore it like that now, ever since the day little Amit had patted Rahul’s head and said, “Daddy like me!”
“Will my sisters miss you for five minutes?” He murmured, his lips gliding over her jaw.
She shivered. “No. Not if it really is five minutes.”
“I’ll do my best.” He caged her wrists with one big hand and brought the other to her hip, squeezing through her skirt. “Let’s start with this, shall we?” And then, as he dragged up the fabric, he kissed her.
Rahul kissed Jasmine constantly. She kissed him just as often. For two sensible adults, they spent far too much time connected at the mouth like a pair of teenagers. So it should’ve felt mundane by this point in their lives.
And yet, every time, it felt like flying.
She arched into him as his tongue glided over hers, as his familiar scent and comforting warmth surrounded her, as her need spiked.
He pulled back slightly, slid off his glasses, rasped, “Jas—”
And then someone banged at the door.
“Quick!” Shouted a high, whining voice. “I need a wee! I need a wee!”
She couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing.
While Jasmine tried to get her giggles under control and her skirt back into place, Rahul cursed and put his glasses on. He rubbed at his temples with a tired expression, but a little smile curved his lips.
She tapped his nose. “Maybe next time, hm?”
“Quick!” Bang, bang, bang.
Shaking his head, Rahul reached past her to open the door.
Their six-year-old niece, Zahra, stood in the doorway, hopping from foot to foot. When she saw her aunt and uncle staring back, she paused. Frowned. “Why are you both in the bathroom.” Her questions were always oddly flat.
Jasmine patted her cheek and smiled. “We were just having a chat, Zahra. A chat about bathrooms.”
“An argument.”
“No,” Rahul said, tugging the end of his niece’s braid. “Not an argument. Now, I thought you were desperate?”
“Oh! Yes! Yes yes yes.” Zahra barged past them both into the bathroom, already yan
king down her leggings. Rahul rolled his eyes, stepped out, and shut the door behind them.
Jasmine gave him a rueful smile. “Back to cricket for you, I think.”
“Ugh. Why can’t I have dosa and tea with all of you?”
“Because your sisters don’t want to have girl time with their grumpy brother in the room. Go away.” She smiled as she moved past him, down the hall. But he caught her wrist.
His eyes held hers as he kissed her palm. “Later, then,” he said.
Her breath hitched at the force of his gaze, his desire, raw and sweet all at once. Because she felt it so keenly and so suddenly, she had to say, “I love you.”
He smiled, squeezing her hand. She could see the happiness in him every time she said those words. “And I love you.”
She breathed the feeling in. Basked in its sunlit glow. Felt it with everything she was, and knew it would always be true.
THE END
Thank you for reading WANNA BET? It would mean the world to me if you could share your thoughts about this book on Amazon or Goodreads.
Love,
Talia x
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Author’s Note
Wanna Bet? is probably the most angst-ridden, emotional story I’ve ever written. When I read my first draft back, that fact gave me pause. I’m not an angsty sort of person, and frankly, I don’t know how I ended up writing this book.
I thought about changing the story up, shifting the characters, making things lighter. But in the end, I just didn’t want to. Sometimes, people go through stuff. They find love anyway, even if they have to take the long way round. That’s life, and it’s lovely, in the end.
Wanna Bet?: An Interracial Romance Page 24
