His Desire

by Jacinda Chance

  Grant got out, left his door open, and raced toward me. I tried to hurry into the building, but he caught me before I was there, turning me with a hand on my arm. He didn’t carry an umbrella, and was drenched, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, his clothes clinging to him.

  “What are you doing, Grant?”

  “You told me never to call you again, so I’m here in person.”

  “Wha—”

  “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”

  “No. Please go, I’m meeting friends.”

  “Give me one more chance.”

  “One more chance to humiliate me? No, Grant.” I tried to turn away, but he held me with both hands on my arms, rain running down his face because he stood just outside the bar awning.

  “One more dinner, that’s it. No Hollis, no arrangement—just me and you.”

  Jan’s voice came from behind me. She’d just arrived and was running for the door, umbrella in hand, laughing at the weather.

  “I have to go, Grant. I’m meeting—”

  His grip tightened. “Ask me again.”

  I shook my head, unsure what he meant.

  “Sophie, please. Ask me again.”

  Something about the look in his eyes—not quite desperate, but determined. Pleading. I knew what he wanted me to say. Despite everything I’d told myself about getting over him for the last several days, I whispered, “Do you care about me at all?”

  The muscles in his jaw worked, he blinked rainwater from his lashes. “Yes,” he said, almost a growl. “Yes, I care about you, Sophie.” He cupped my face in his hands. “Dinner tomorrow. Eight. One last chance, and if you feel the same, I won’t bother you again.”

  “Sophie, let’s get out of this weath—oh.” Jan seemed to have realized that the weather was the least of my concern. But she didn’t go in, instead she waited for me in the doorway.

  “All—all right,” I said. “I have to go.”

  “A car will be there at 7:30.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “I looked forward to it.”

  He let go of me, but didn’t move. I went into the bar with one glance back at him standing in the rain, a smile on his face.

  I could barely concentrate on anything Jan or the two men who joined us said, and soon realized it wasn’t just a potential business meeting, but sort of a double date. I had no interest in that. Even if Grant hadn’t shown up, dripping and asking for one more chance, I wouldn’t have been interested.

  Jan seemed to make inroads with the man who seemed taken with her, and after accepting the number of the other man—Greg, I think his name was—I took a cab home.

  Seven-thirty tomorrow night.

  It felt kind of pathetic at the time, but I desperately wanted Grant to knock it out of the park during his one last chance. Because if I went, and it was anything like the last dinner date we’d had, I wouldn’t be able to do this again.

  And thinking there might be another chance, even if I’d been lying to myself and saying there wasn’t, was probably the only thing that had gotten me through the last week.

  With the idea in my head that this really was it, I laid out the clothes and jewelry I would wear to dinner tomorrow, showered, and fell asleep hoping that I was making the right choice.

  Nine – Grant

  I had done some shopping, and tried to work things out in my mind as best I could, before my dinner date with Sophie. Instead of picking her up myself, I sent a car. That would eliminate the need for small talk on the drive, and I could save everything I wanted to say for the restaurant, when we were both settled and hopefully comfortable.

  I rented the entire terrace of Maison d’Tristelle for our dinner. Our table was set with a centerpiece of various sized candles, and lanterns hung around the edge, casting a faint glow over the whole space. I wanted it to feel private, secluded.

  Intimate.

  And like our entire relationship, I would be in charge.

  The Grant I’d been over the past couple of weeks, that Grant wasn’t really me. He served to show me what a huge mistake I’d made, but I couldn’t continue on that path. The man I was knew what he wanted and went after it, and nothing got in his way.

  That was the Grant Sophie knew. And now that I’d settled on a course of action, he was back.

  Sophie was mine. All that was left was to make sure she knew it.

  When Sophie walked in, I couldn’t breathe for a moment. She wore the small, black dress I’d bought her for our first meeting with Hollis. And between those perfect, creamy tits, the emerald pendant. Yes.

  I pulled her chair out for her. “I do love your outfit.”

  “Good,” she said, all confidence and bravado. I smiled and sat across from her.

  I let myself smirk. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Famished,” she said, playing along as well as anyone could.

  I chuckled. “If I told you to bend over the table next to us so I could fuck you right now,” I said in hushed tones, “what would you do?”

  She lifted her menu and glanced at it as if I’d done nothing more than ask her the weather, but I didn’t miss the slight twitch of her neck. The shiver that went through her. “I’d suggest we wait until someone can remove all the glassware.” Her eyes darted above her menu and met mine.

  I laughed. “I love you.” And there it was. I hadn’t planned on it, but I didn’t regret it, either.

  Sophie stared. “What did you say?”

  “I am in love with you. Would you rather have steak or chicken?”

  “Grant, you can’t just—”

  “Can’t just what? Tell you how I feel?” I peered at her over my menu. “If you keep arguing with me that way, I’m going to have to redden your ass before we eat.”

  Sophie dropped the menu and twisted her hands in her lap. “I don’t know what to say. I . . . can’t believe it.”

  “Think, Sophie. When have I ever lied to you?” I rose and stood next to her chair, and put my fingers under her chin to turn her to face me. “This isn’t a ploy. This isn’t about business. This is about how I haven’t been able to stand myself since you left my bedroom. How I think about calling you every day.”

  Sophie opened her mouth and took in a breath.

  “I understand your hesitation. God knows I’ve given you reason.” My earlier worries that this would be too little, too late, fell away, as she searched my eyes for some hint that I wasn’t being truthful. “You’re mine, Sophie. You have been since we met. I know that now. I also know I’ve caused you pain.”

  I pulled the velvet ring box out of my pocket. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make that up to you.”

  Ten – Sophie

  I love you.

  My god, he’d really said it. It wasn’t one of his half-truths, or a wishy-washy phrase that could be taken a variety of ways, like who loves ya, or I care about you. It was a simple, declarative sentence with no qualifiers. I love you. And now he held a velvet ring box in his palm.

  Was this really happening? Did I want it to?

  “Grant—”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s not that gaudy bauble I gave you before. That one was for show, after all.”

  He cracked the box open slowly to reveal three rings. One was a plain gold band—a man’s ring. Another band was smaller, etched with a serpentine pattern that sparkled like it was diamond cut. The third was a diamond solitaire. The stone was large but not outrageously so, and the band was etched to match the other. The diamond sparkled in the candlelight.

  It hit me that this really was happening, and yes, oh yes, I wanted it to.

  Compared to the first ring, it was elegant and simple. And it was the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen.

  I lifted my eyes to Grant, and followed as he lowered himself to one knee. He slipped the diamond ring from its box and held it out to me.

  “Wear this one instead?”

  I wanted to say yes. Wanted to shout it. But it had crossed my mind that Grant had asked me to marry
him to fool Hollis just days before.

  Grant slipped his phone out of his pocket. “I can see what you’re thinking, Sophie. The doubt shows in your eyes. And I don’t blame you for it.”

  He dialed and turned on the speakerphone. The ring seemed too loud, too harsh, even though we were outside. “Grant?”

  “It’s okay. I want you to be sure.” He smiled at me. “I want you to really know.”

  “Hello, Grant,” Aten Hollis’ voice came through the phone.

  He was going to tell Hollis. No, he wouldn’t do that, would he? Blow everything, now that he had it within his grasp?

  “Aten. You’re on speakerphone. Sophie’s here with me.”

  “Hello, Sophie!” The smile came through in his voice. When Grant told Hollis what we’d done, he probably wouldn’t smile on hearing my name again.

  “Aten, you don’t want to sell me your business.” Grant’s gaze held mine, steady and sure, the entire time he spoke.

  “What?”

  “Sophie and I were never engaged. I coerced her to play along with me—it’s completely my doing, not hers, so don’t blame her. I pretended so you’d think I was a respectable, engaged man when I wasn’t, and you’d sell to me. I just wanted you to know that.”

  Hollis didn’t speak for several seconds, and then he simply said, “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I know it’s a shock, and I apologize. I also want you to know that while I was pretending to be engaged to Sophie, I fell in love with her, and I’m proposing to her as we speak.”

  “That’s . . . I—”

  “Sorry, Aten. I’ve got to go.” Grant touched the screen and hung up the phone.

  I gasped and felt like Hollis—I didn’t know what to say. I shook my head, blinking back tears that threatened to fall.

  Grant held the ring out again. “I don’t care about his company anymore. Hell, I don’t care about mine half as much as I care about this moment.” He licked his lips and leaned forward intently. “The La Costa dress? Wear it to your wedding, Sophie. Marry me.”

  Grant took my hand and looked into my eyes, and the moment I took a breath to say yes he slipped the ring onto my finger.

  “Yes,” I said with a laugh, since he’d already done it, as if I couldn’t say no now that the ring was on. Grant took my hands and urged me to stand, then a strong arm around my waist pulled me against him. It was like putting on a glove on the first cold day of winter. Comforting and familiar and warm.

  Grant kissed me, a deep, breath-stealing kiss that sent heat between my legs and turned my knees to jelly. It was almost embarrassing how quickly it affected me.

  His hands slid down to cup my bottom. “Any kind of wedding you want, it’s yours. Anything.” His fingers curled underneath the hem of the short dress and hoisted it up to my waist. I looked toward the opening to the terrace, worried that a server might come barreling in at any moment.

  He gasped. “No underwear. A woman after my heart.”

  “You’ve paid them to stay out for a while, haven’t you?”

  “Have I?” Grant slapped my ass. “Does it matter?” A slap to the other side. “Right now, I think we should talk about our vows.”

  I pressed against him, arching my back and jutting out my bottom for more of his attention. “Don’t you think we have time to talk about wedding vows later?”

  He shook his head, one eyebrow raised a touch. “I want to talk about punishments for bad girls who don’t obey. Love and obey, isn’t it? And when you don’t obey . . .”

  Grant spun me, pushed me forward, and swiped the table settings and unlit candles off the table next to ours. Glass shattered on the tile and the table legs creaked against the floor as he pressed me against it, pushing until I was bent over it, my cheek against the tablecloth.

  “Look how wet you are. That’s because you know you’re mine, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” I licked my lips. God, this is what I’d craved. I missed Grant—I had fallen in love with him, too early on, in fact—but my body loved the way he owned it, the way he claimed me. I couldn’t get enough of that.

  His hand rained down on my backside, the stinging a familiar pain within a matter of seconds. The last smack of his hand stung enough that I cried out.

  “There we go,” he groaned. “Tell me what you need, Sophie. Tell me what you want.”

  I hesitated only a moment, long enough for him to drop two burning smacks on my ass. “I want you, Grant. I need . . . I need you to fuck me.”

  I didn’t even hear his buckle or zipper, but a hand sank into my hair, pulling lightly—just the right amount—as his cock slid against my core. He groaned, tugged on my hair, and filled me with one thrust. It had been too long since we’d done this, too long to go slow.

  “Wrists behind your back,” he said, with a slap to my hip. I crossed my wrists against my lower back and arched it, opening myself as much as I could for him, stretching my neck as he tugged my hair with each thrust.

  “Yeah,” he breathed. “So good.” And god, it was. I felt claimed, cherished. His. This would have been erotic before, but now that he’d said he loved me and I knew it was true, it was melting me from the inside out.

  He fucked me, the table scooting forward a fraction of an inch at a time, with the power of his thrusts. His other hand snaked around my hips, and his fingers slid between my legs. I gasped at the tapping, the rhythm matching his cock inside me, rushing me toward orgasm.

  “What a good girl.” He thrust without rhythm, his breath catching. “Come for me now.”

  I cried out—no thought to where I was or who might hear. “Grant!” I said, then dissolved into wordless moans and shouts. He growled and slammed forward, spilling deep inside me while I spasmed around him.

  “Oh,” he breathed. Then he hissed and groaned, “Sophie.”

  The pleasure had barely ebbed when he pulled me up, my arms falling to my sides, and raked the dress down off my breasts. He held them, kneaded them, while he kissed my neck, moaning softly against my skin.

  “You are so fucking beautiful.”

  I shuddered as he thrust, nearly lifting me off my feet, the pendant bouncing between my breasts. Our breathing slowed, his hands on my breasts stroking more slowly, thumbs brushing the nipples and sending little tendrils of pleasure spreading outward.

  When he slipped from my body, he pulled my dress back into place to cover my breasts and my bottom again. Grant wrapped both arms around my waist and pressed his lips against my neck.

  “I love you,” he said, another clear statement. This was absolutely real.

  “And I love you,” I said, a shiver of pleasure and relief prompting him to hold me tighter.

  Then Grant took my hand and led me back to our table, but pulled me down to sit sideways across his lap. He lifted my hand that now bore his ring and turned it in the candlelight.

  “That looks much better on you.”

  “I agree. Are you—”

  The doors to the terrace flung outward, and a server in black and white came toward us with a smile. “I apologize for the delay. Have you decided . . .” He looked at the broken glassware and candles littering the floor.

  Grant waved his hand. “Oh, I apologize for the mess. You see, we . . . well, why don’t you tell him, sweetheart?”

  Grant raised an eyebrow and looked to be fighting a laugh. His hand patted my thigh.

  I cleared my throat and regarded the man as innocently as I could. “I’m so sorry. We bumped against it.”

  A slight snort escaped Grant as he tried not to laugh. He nodded his approval of my half-truth, then gestured at the server. “Feel free to add the cost of those items to my bill. But if you could clean it up after we leave, I’d appreciate that.”

  The server took our order, but Grant didn’t move for me to get off his lap. The man did side-eye us before he left, but frankly I didn’t care. Then what he’d said really sunk in.

  He’d apologized for the delay.

  “I though
t you’d paid them to stay out for a while!”

  Grant laughed. “I never said that.”

  “You seriously didn’t?”

  “No.”

  My jaw dropped, and before I could say anything else, he shook his head.

  “I knew they were busy, Sophie. And I would not have let him see any exposed part of you. It seemed like an appropriate night . . . to take a risk.”

  He cupped my cheek and brushed his thumb over my lips. “And it all worked out. Even though you made enough noise to draw attention down on the street.” Grant’s smile was a delighted one, both eyebrows up, and a glint in his eye.

  I laughed then, in disbelief that he’d actually risked us getting caught, and at how much I discovered I really didn’t mind.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, then gasped into the kiss as he pushed two fingers between my legs to tease me. I pushed against his arm. “He could come back any second.”

  “I have good reflexes,” he said, refusing to budge. “We need to talk about this love and obey thing. You’re great at one, not so good at the other.”

  All I could do was laugh between gasps at the things his fingertips were doing.

  “It’s okay, though. I want you to be a very bad girl. We have some lost time to make up for.” His fingers pushed inside, his thumb tapping a rhythm against me. “You don’t have any appointments tomorrow or anything that might require you to be seated for an extended period of time, do you?”

  My nipples went tight, and another orgasm, like a tall wave rolling toward shore, started building in my center. “No,” I gasped.

  “Good. Because you might find sitting down a touch uncomfortable for a while. You’ll come home with me after dinner and let me do whatever I want, won’t you? I can redden your ass so that a week from now when you go to sit down, you’ll get wet remembering the things I did to you.”