Chapter Nine
Gray
3 years later…
The second we step inside my apartment, I’m on her. I strip her coat. Rip her sweater over her head. Pinch the hooks to her lacy pink bra, which is sexy as hell, letting it fall down her arms. When it catches on a hand, I tear it off and fling it across the room. She’s laughing at my impatience until I kiss my way down her chest, latching onto a rosy nipple that’s pleading for my mouth, sucking so hard her fingernails sting my scalp.
“Fuck, you taste good, angel,” I praise, tonguing my way to her other one, giving it the same treatment.
Not thirty minutes ago she gave me the nirvana of all blowjobs in the employee lounge of Rocky’s, but I’m ready to fucking erupt again. The feel of her hands moving across me in desperation, taking my clothes with them as they pass is a potent one I’ll never get used to. Three years together and her touch still burns as powerful as it did the first time.
I look down to her left ring finger; the large emerald-cut diamond glittering in the overhead light and it hits me all over again.
She just agreed to marry me.
Livia Kingsley is going to be my wife.
My wife.
“I need to be inside you. Right. Fucking. Now.”
I pop the button on her jeans at the same time she does mine and once again we stop to look at each other and laugh. Giddy. I’m fucking giddy. So is she. Then we’re rolling them down our legs at the speed of sound in a frantic attempt to quench this sharp ache we both feel.
In five seconds flat our clothes are scattered, her back is flush with the wall, and I’m buried balls deep inside her, groaning at the feel of her drenched pussy squeezing me so tight I’m not gonna last long.
“Tell me you love me, angel,” I rasp in her ear, pumping in and out, slow and steady. I’m holding back. All I want to do is ram myself inside her until she’s begging for mercy, but I plan to fuck my new fiancée all night long so I need to go easy on her now.
Through her pants, she smiles against my cheek. “I love you, Gray.”
“Tell me again.” I ask her to tell me this all the time. Inside a month I knew I loved her. When I took her to New York City for her birthday into our second month of dating, I spoke the words. But it took close to a year for her to say them back, even though I knew how she felt. And ever since that day I can’t get enough of them.
“I love you,” my sweet girl readily replies.
I slide a hand between us and start feathering her clit. The tiny nub is so goddamn hard, just waiting for me to send her over. I apply more pressure and pick up the pace. I want her coming all over my cock in the next sixty seconds. She clamps down around me, the deep pulses already starting.
“Oh, fuck, Livvy. I feel you. You’re so close already, angel.”
“Don’t stop,” she pants, nails now digging painfully into my shoulders. She’s just seconds away and it’s taking everything in me to hold the troops at bay until she’s screaming my name.
“Not stopping. Going to fuck you all night long. Now say it again.” I lean my forehead against the wall for balance and hook my free hand under her fine ass for leverage, tilting her forward so I can go deeper.
“I love you,” she breathes, then starts chanting, “I love you, I love you, I…oh, god, Gray, god…I’m coming.”
This is my favorite part of being inside Livia. It’s not when I release, although that feels fucking phenomenal. It’s watching her. It’s watching what I do to her. How good I make her feel. How she lets go of every inhibition and gives me every single piece of her without reservation.
This, right here, is what heaven has to feel like.
I watch her face contort in pleasure. I watch until she’s able to hook that gaze with mine again, and only then do I let myself go. With our eyes locked and one final thrust so deep I hit the end of her womb, I let waves of ecstasy wash through me, filling her with my seed. And that sets her off again, both of our bodies working in synch to milk me of everything I have.
It takes us a few minutes to catch our breath enough to move. I’m drained. So is she. My body feels as weak as a newborn, having given it all to her, but I sweep her off her feet anyway and head toward my bedroom. Our bedroom. She cuddles into my chest and I sigh. I fucking sigh like a pussy but I don’t care.
I lay her down, clean her, crawl into bed with her, and drape her over me. She’s dead weight, barely moving. Barely breathing. Life doesn’t get any better than this. Except maybe when we have half a dozen miniature Livia’s running around. Christ, the thought of kids with her someday makes my heart pump in sheer joy.
“You okay down there?” I tease, chuckling lightly.
“I think you fucked me dead,” she mumbles into my chest.
“Well that’s a damn shame, angel. I have a lot more in me.”
“I need a minute. Or five. Maybe ten.”
“Whatever you need, baby.”
I’m so happy right now I feel like I could burst. Livia Kingsley just agreed to be my wife. And the sooner we set the date and she’s walking down that aisle toward me, the better. But we’ll discuss that tomorrow. Tonight is for celebrating. For making love until we’re sore and we pass out.
Slipping a finger under her chin, I tilt it up. My heart squeezes at the love I see shining back at me. It takes me a minute to find my voice, hoping beyond all hell it doesn’t crack when I finally use it.
“I am incredibly happy right now, you know.”
That smile of hers blows me away every time. “Me too.”
I test her name. The new name she’ll soon have for life. “Livia Colloway.” It tastes like ambrosia, making my head swim. “I like the sound of that.”
She lays her hand on my cheek. Her eyes liquefy. Or maybe it’s tears. “So do I.”
“I have some champagne chilling.”
“Pretty confident, were you?” Her watery grin turns cocky.
I place an open-mouthed kiss to her palm. “I mean, who could resist this? I’m the entire package. Handsome, successful, sexy. Have a few bucks in the bank.”
“Oh really?” She pops up on one elbow and snatches her hand away. “You know you snore, right?”
“No more than you.” I roll her on her back.
“I don’t snore.”
She so does. “All women say that. It’s a cute snore. Not a trucker snore.” Her wrists are bound together in one my hands, stretched above her head, while the other starts to wander south.
She laughs, sinking further into the pillow. “What’s a cute snore, exactly?”
“Mmm,” I breathe against her neck, lacing it with kisses before I finish, “The kind that makes me want to slip my cock inside that hot, talented mouth of yours to test first hand how the vibration feels.”
“Well, that’s…” She breaks off because I have three fingers now buried inside her sweet heat. “God, Gray.”
“Sore?”
“No. Please.”
“Please what, angel?” I taunt, knowing exactly what she wants. What turns her on, making her putty in my hands.
“Please everything. Just please.”
“You can have everything, angel. All of it. It’s yours already.”
And this is how the rest of our night goes. We talk. We laugh. We fuck between bouts of tender lovemaking. We drink champagne off each other until the sheets are soaked. We change them, catnap, then start all over again. We do this until we can’t do it any more. Until the sun kisses the horizon. Then we crash, our bodies needing recovery.
My fiancée falls asleep in my arms. Exhausted, sated, deliriously happy. As am I. Only when I wake up a few hours later, the world I’d spent the last three years meticulously building implodes, blanketing me in wounds so deep I know I’ll never recover.
Livia isn’t in my bed. She isn’t answering her phone. She’s not at her house or with friends or unconscious in a hospital somewhere.
She’s gone. Just up and vanished.
Without a trace. Without a note. Without a reason.
And so my living hell begins.
* * *
Want to know what happens when Gray and Livia reconnect years later? You can find out in
The Colloway Brothers #1, available where books are sold.
(Turn the page for a sneak peek at FORSAKING GRAY)