by Maisey Yates
She sputtered. “Could offer me?”
“Yes. Of course, I don’t expect you to enter into an arrangement that benefits only me. So far, I haven’t presented you with one compelling reason why marriage between the two of us would be beneficial to you.”
“And you think that’s my issue?”
“I think it’s one issue. My family loves you. I appreciate that. Because I’m very close to my family. Anyone I marry will have to get along with my family. You already do. I feel like you love my family...”
She closed her eyes. Yes. She did love the Grayson family. She loved them so much. They were the only real, functional family she had ever seen in existence. They were the reason she believed that kind of thing existed outside the land of sitcoms. If it weren’t for them, she would have no frame of reference for that kind of normalcy. A couple who had been together all those years. Adult children that loved their parents enough to try to please them. To come back home and visit. Siblings who worked together to build a business. Who cared for each other.
Loud, boisterous holiday celebrations that were warm and inviting. That included her.
Yes, the Grayson family was a big, fat carrot in all of this.
But what Isaiah didn’t seem to understand was that he was the biggest carrot of all.
An inescapably sexual thought, and she had been asked to put a pin in the sex. But with Isaiah she could never just set the sex aside.
“You love my ranch,” he said. “You love to come out and ride the horses. Imagine. You would already be sleeping there on weekends. It would be easy to get up and go for a ride.”
“I love my house,” she protested.
“My ranch is better,” he said.
She wanted to punch him for that. Except, it was true.
His gorgeous modern ranch house with both rustic and modern details, flawlessly designed by his sister, was a feat of architectural engineering and design. There was not a single negative thing she could say about the place.
Set up in the mountains, with a gorgeous barn and horses and all kinds of things that young, daydreamer Poppy would have given her right arm to visit, much less inhabit.
He had horses. And he’d taught her to ride a year earlier.
“And I assume you want children.”
She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about sex.”
“We’re not talking about sex. We’re talking about children.”
“Didn’t your parents tell you where babies come from?”
His mouth flattened into a grim line. “I will admit there was something I missed when I was thinking of finding a wife through an ad.”
She rolled her eyes. “Really?”
“Yes. I thought about myself. I thought about the fact that I wanted children in the abstract. But I did not think about what kind of mother I wanted my children to have. You would be a wonderful mother.”
She blinked rapidly, fighting against the sting of sudden tears. “Why would you think that?”
“I know you. I’ve watched the way you took care of me and my business for the last ten years. The way you handle everything. The details in my professional life, Joshua and Faith’s, as well. I’ve seen you with Joshua’s son.”
“I was basically raised by wolves,” she pointed out. “I don’t know anything about families.”
“I think that will make you an even better mother. You know exactly what not to do.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Disappearing into a heroin haze is a good thing to avoid. That much I know.”
“You know more than that,” he said. “You’re good with people. You’re good at anticipating what they want, what they need. You’re organized. You’re efficient.”
“You make me sound like an app, Isaiah.”
“You’re warm and...and sometimes sweet. Though, not to me.”
“You wouldn’t like me if I were sweet,” she pointed out.
“No. I wouldn’t. But that’s the other thing. You know how to stand up to me.” The sincerity on his face nearly killed her. “We would be good together.”
He sounded so certain. And she felt on the opposite side of the world from certain.
This was too much. It really was. Too close to everything she had ever dreamed about—without one essential ingredient. Except... When had she really ever been allowed to dream?
She had watched so many other people achieve their dreams. While she’d barely allowed herself to imagine...
A life with Isaiah.
Children.
A family of her own.
Isaiah had simply been off-limits in her head all this time. It had made working with him easier. It had made being his friend less risky.
But he was offering her fantasy.
How could she refuse?
“Your parents can’t know it’s fake,” she said.
“Are you agreeing?”
She blinked rapidly, trying to keep her tears back. “They can’t know,” she repeated.
“It’s not fake,” he said simply. “We’ll have a real marriage.”
“They can’t know about the ad. They can’t know that you just... Are hiring me for a new position. Okay?”
“Poppy...”
“They can’t know you’re not in love with me.”
She would die. She would die of shame. If his wonderful, amazing parents who only ever wanted the best for their children, who most certainly wanted deep abiding love for Isaiah, were to know this marriage was an arrangement.
“It’s not going to come up,” he said.
“Good. It can’t.” Desperation clawed at her, and she wasn’t really sure what she was desperate for. For him to agree. For him to say he had feelings for her. For him to kiss her. “Or it’s off.”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her again. She wasn’t sure she could handle that. So instead, she stuck her hand out and stood there, staring at him. He frowned but took her offered hand, shaking it slowly.
Getting engaged in her pajamas and ending it with a handshake was not the romantic story she would need to tell his family.
He released his hold on her hand, and she thought he was going to walk away. But instead, he reached out and pulled her forward, capturing her mouth with his after all, a flood of sensation washing over her.
And then, as quickly as it began, the kiss ended.
“No. It’s not going to be a problem,” he said.
She expected him to leave then. He was supposed to leave. But instead, he dipped his head and kissed her again.
She felt dizzy. And she wanted to keep on kissing him. This couldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t be happening.
But they were engaged. So maybe this had to happen.
She didn’t know this man, she realized as he let out a feral growl and backed her up against her wall. This was not the cool, logical friend she had spent all these years getting to know. This was...
Well, this was Isaiah as a man.
She had always known he was a man. Of course she had. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been in love with him. Wouldn’t have had so many fantasies about him. But she hadn’t really known. Not like this. She hadn’t known what it would be like to be the woman he wanted. Hadn’t had any idea just how hot-blooded a man as detached and cool as he was on a day-to-day basis could be when sex was involved.
Sex.
She supposed now was the time to bring up her little secret.
But maybe this was just a kiss, maybe they weren’t going to have sex.
He angled his head then, taking the kiss deeper. Making it more intense. And then he reached down and gripped the hem of her T-shirt, pulling it up over her head.
She didn’t
have a bra on underneath, and she was left completely exposed. Her nipples went tight as he looked at her, as those familiar gray eyes, so cold and rational most of the time, went hot.
He stared at her, his eyes glittering. “How did I not know?”
“How did you not know what?” Her teeth chattered when she asked the question.
Only then did she realize she was afraid this would expose her. Because while she could handle keeping her love for Isaiah in a little corner of her heart while she had access to his body—while she claimed ownership of him, rather than allowing some other woman to have him—she could not handle him knowing how she felt.
She’d had her love rejected too many times in her life. She would never subject herself to that again. Ever.
“How did I not know how beautiful you were?” He was absolutely serious, his sculpted face looking as if it was carved from rock.
She reached out, dragged her fingertips over his face. Over the coarse hair of his beard.
She could touch him now. Like this.
The kiss in his office had been so abrupt, so shocking, that while she had enjoyed it, she hadn’t fully been able to process all that it meant. All the changes that came with it.
She didn’t touch Isaiah like this. She didn’t touch him ever.
And now... She finally could.
She frowned and leaned forward, pressing her lips slowly against his. They were warm, and firm, and she couldn’t remember anything in the world feeling this wonderful.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she traced the outline of his bottom lip with her tongue.
She was tasting him.
Ten years of fantasies, vague and half-realized, and they had led here. To this. To him.
She slid her hands back, pushing them through his hair as she moved forward, pressing her bare breasts to his chest, still covered by the T-shirt he was wearing.
She didn’t want anything between them. Nothing at all.
Suddenly, pride didn’t matter.
She pulled away from him for a moment, and his eyes went straight down to her breasts again.
That would be her salvation. The fact that he was a man. That he was more invested in breasts than in feelings.
He was never going to see how she felt. Never going to see the love shining from her eyes, as long as he was looking at her body. And in this, in sex, she had the freedom to express everything she felt.
She was going to.
Oh, she was going to.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed forward again, claiming his mouth, pouring everything, every fantasy, into that moment.
He growled, his arm wrapping around her waist like a steel band, the other one going down to her thighs as he lifted her up off the ground, pulling her against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and didn’t protest at all when he carried them both from the kitchen back toward her bedroom.
She knew exactly where this was going.
But it was time.
If she were totally, completely honest with herself, she knew why she hadn’t done this before.
She was waiting for him.
She always had been.
A foolish, humiliating truth that she had never allowed herself to face until now. But it made pausing for consideration pointless.
She was going to marry him.
She was going to be with him.
There was nothing to think about.
There was a small, fragile bubble of joy in her chest, something she had never allowed herself to feel before. And it was growing inside her now.
She could have this. She could have him.
She squeaked when he dropped her down onto the bed and wrenched his shirt up over his head. She lay back, looking at him, taking in the fine, sculpted angles of his body. His chest was covered with just the right amount of dark hair, extending in a line down the center of his abs, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.
She was exceptionally interested in that. And, for the first time, she hoped she was going to have those questions answered. That her curiosity would be satisfied.
He moved his hands to his belt buckle and reality began to whisper in her ear as he worked through the loops.
She didn’t know why reality had showed up. It was her knee-jerk reaction to good things, she supposed.
In her life, nothing stayed good for long. Not for her. Only other girls got what they wanted.
The fact of the matter was, she wasn’t his second choice after her much more beautiful foster sister.
She wasn’t even his tenth choice.
She had come somewhere down the line of she-didn’t-even-want-to-know-how-many bar hookups and the women who had been in her office earlier today.
On the list of women he might marry, Poppy was below placing an ad as a solution.
That was how much of a last resort she was.
At least this time you’re a resort at all. Does it really matter if you’re the last one?
In many ways, it didn’t. Not at all.
Because she wanted to be chosen, even if she was chosen last.
He slowly lowered the zipper on his jeans and all of her thoughts evaporated.
Saved by the slow tug of his underwear, revealing a line of muscle that was almost obscene and a shadow of dark hair before he drew the fabric down farther and exposed himself completely, pushing his pants and underwear all the way to the floor.
She tried not to stare openmouthed. She had never seen a naked man in person before. And she had never counted on seeing Isaiah naked. Had dreamed about it, yes. Had fantasized about it, sure. But, she had never really imagined that it might happen.
“Now it’s your turn,” he said, his voice husky. Affected.
“I...”
She was too nervous. She couldn’t make her hands move. Couldn’t find the dexterity to pull her pajama pants down. And, as skills went, taking off pajama pants was a pretty easy one.
He took pity on her. He leaned forward, cupping her chin and kissing her, bringing himself down onto the bed beside her and pressing his large, warm palm between her shoulder blades, sliding his hand down the line of her back, just beneath the waistband of those pajamas. His hand was hot and enticing on her ass, and she arched her hips forward, his erection brushing against the apex of her thighs.
She gasped, and he kissed her, delving deep as he did, bringing his other hand around to cup her breast, his thumb sliding over her nipple, drawing it into an impossibly tight bud.
She pressed her hands against his chest, and just stared at them for a moment. Then she looked up at his face and back down at her hands.
She was touching his bare chest.
Isaiah.
It was undeniable.
He was looking down at her, his dark brows locked together, his expression as serious as it ever was, and it was just...him.
She slid her hands downward, watching as they traveled. Her mouth went dry when she touched those ab muscles, when her hands went down farther. She paused, holding out her index finger and tracing the indention that ran diagonally across his body, straight toward that place where he was most male.
She avoided touching him there.
She didn’t know how.
But then, he took hold of her hand, curved his fingers around it and guided her right toward his erection.
She held back a gasp as he encouraged her to curl her fingers around his thick length.
He was so hot. Hot and soft and hard all at once. Then she looked back up, meeting his eyes, and suddenly, it wasn’t so scary. Because Isaiah—a man who was not terribly affected by anything at all in the world, who seemed so confident in his ability to control everything around him—looked absolutely at a loss.
His forehead had relaxed, his eyes fluttering closed, his lips going slack
. His head fell back. She squeezed him, and a groan rumbled in his chest.
Right now, she had the control, the power.
Probably for the first and only time in their entire relationship.
She had never felt anything like this before. Not ever.
A pulse began to beat between her legs, need swamping her. She felt hollow there, the slickness a telltale sign of just how much she wanted him too. But she didn’t feel embarrassed about it. It didn’t make her feel vulnerable. They were equals in this. It felt...exhilarating. Exciting. Right here in her little bed, it felt safe. To want him as much as she did.
How could it not, when he wanted her too?
Experimentally, she pumped her hand along his length, and he growled.
He was beautiful.
Everything she’d ever wanted. She knew he’d been made for her. This man who had captured her heart, her fantasies, from the moment she’d first met him.
But she didn’t have time to think about all of that, because she found herself flipped onto her back, with Isaiah looming over her. In an easy movement, he reached between them and yanked off her pants and underwear.
He made space for himself between her legs, gripping his arousal and pressing it through her slick folds, the intimacy of the action taking her breath away, and then the intense, white-hot pleasure that assaulted her when he hit that perfect spot cleared her mind of anything and everything.
He did it again, and then released his hold on himself, flexing his hips against her. She gasped, grabbing his shoulders and digging her fingers into his skin.
His face was a study in concentration, and he cupped her breast, teasing her nipple as he continued to flex his hips back and forth across that sensitive bundle of nerves.
Something gathered low in her stomach, that hollow sensation between her legs growing keener...
And he didn’t stop. He kept at it, teasing her nipple, and moving his hips in a maddening rhythm.
The tension within her increased, further and further until it suddenly snapped. She gasped as her climax overtook her, and he captured that sound of pleasure with his mouth, before drawing back and pressing the himself into the entrance of her body. And then, before she had a chance to tense up, he pressed forward.
