Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Tom, honestly, I’m—”

“Lying through your teeth!” he interrupted. His voice wasn’t angry, but it was firm. He was clearly resolved to get some answers. “Don’t take me for a fool, Kelsey. I’ve known you’ve been worried about something for weeks now. If I had to guess, I’d say you were worried about our future.”

I turned to him confused, perturbed, and angry. God only knew what I must have looked like.

“W-why didn’t you say anything?” My voice was shakier than I would have liked. I crossed my arms defensively.

“Actually, if you’ll recall, I did,” he responded evenly. “You’ve been putting me off. I was rather hoping you would trust me enough to confide in me.”

“I do confide in you!” My voice was rising with indignation—and maybe a little fear.

What if this discussion ended badly? What if this was his way of breaking up with me?

“Not about us, you don’t,” he argued. “When it comes to us, how you feel about us, how you feel about me, you’re a closed book.”

“Isn’t it obvious that I’m crazy about you?” Surely he could tell . . . couldn’t he?

“I don’t know. Is it obvious? Because I thought it was obvious that I love you, but you’re acting like we’re about to break up or something!”

Wait. What?

“You . . . you love me?” Had I heard that right?

“Of course I love you!” He sounded exasperated.

“Well you’ve never said it!” I was back to being defensive.

“Nor have you!” He suddenly pushed off the doorframe and stood up, striking a defensive posture rather like the one I had adopted. “How do you feel about me?” he demanded.

I searched his face and found his usual confidence belied by a vulnerability in his eyes.

It had never occurred to me that he might be frightened that I would leave him. Or that I had the power to hurt him. How could someone like me be so important to someone like him?

Admitting my feelings had always given Darren leave to use them against me. That’s why I’d been running from this conversation. I could see it was now or never. If I wasn’t honest, I was guaranteed to lose him.

“I love you.” My voice was shaking with emotion. Tears clouded my vision and threatened to fall.

He stepped closer and held his arms wide. I met him halfway and sighed with contentment as I was wrapped up in his warm embrace.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I might be hurting you,” I confessed to the buttons on his shirt. It was easier to speak when I didn’t have to look into his eyes. “It’s just that . . .” This was difficult to admit out loud, but if I was to stop hurting him, we had to be honest. “You seem so very far out of my league. I keep thinking that one day you’ll wake up and realize it, and then you’ll leave me in the dust.”

Tom held me tighter for a second.

“Don’t you see? I’m the one who feels as if you’re out of my league,” he answered. “You’re so strong, so brave, and yet still so kind and loving. You’re . . . amazing, Kelsey. Every day, I wonder what I could possibly have done to deserve you. If I knew, I’d do it over and over again just to keep you.”

“You really love me?” I asked in a small voice, still afraid the rug was going to be pulled out from under me.

“Do I?” he asked with a smile.

He pulled away slightly so he could reach into his coat pocket, from whence he produced a ring box.

“I’ve had this since the publicity tour I did last year. I saw it in a window in Beijing, of all places. It was just so ‘you’ that I went online, found the shop, and had it delivered anonymously to the hotel.”

His confession floored me. I couldn’t think of a single relevant thing to say.

“How can you place an anonymous order?” Because that was the most pressing question right now.

The edges of his lips twitched, as if he was trying hard not to laugh.

“I have bank cards in the name of a company I set up for my earnings, so people don’t see my name on the card.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yes, that was a much better question.

“Tell you that my credit card doesn’t have my name on it? I—”

I swatted his chest, but his teasing did raise a smile. “You know what I mean.”

“We weren’t even dating then!” He laughed. “I was afraid I’d frighten you off if I showed it to you too soon. I still am, to be honest.” There was that vulnerable note in his voice again.

“So can I see it?” I asked, my voice shaking and my eyes welling with tears.

“Oh God. Yes!” He shook his head at his own stupidity and let go of me so he could open the box.

The ring inside was amazing and so me. A cushion-cut diamond in a halo setting with a diamond band; beautiful, yet understated.

“It’s gorgeous.” I almost reached for it, but then I looked at Tom. He was watching me intently, his expression hopeful.

“Should I ask?”

Should he ask what? Oh! Marriage! Shit! It would take me weeks to process this and decide on the best course of action. And then I’d dither for a few weeks or months when all I really wanted was Tom.

“We can make it a long engagement,” he added after my long silence.

Shit! I was hurting him again.

“Yes!” I blurted.

“Okay . . .” He looked a little disappointed, and it took me a moment to realize that he thought I’d said yes to a long engagement. Well, that might be a good idea, but that was a discussion for another day.

“No! I mean, yes! I want you to ask me. If . . . if you want to?”

Tom took a deep breath. “Kelsey, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Tom beat me to making the next comment.

“I can’t believe I said that. That was so cheesy!” He looked shocked. “I’ve been rehearsing this in my head for months and that’s what I come up with?” He put a hand to his head as if to help him think. His cheeks blushed an adorable shade of pink.

I started to answer, but he interrupted me again.

“I can do better. I’ll do better. Uh . . .”

I have to say that while I love how calm and confident he usually is, seeing him flustered was incredibly endearing—especially since I was the one who had flustered him!

I put my hand over his mouth. That seemed to be the only way to shut him up.

“Of course I’ll marry you.”

“You will?” His eyebrows shot up.

“Yes!”

He threw his arms around me and squeezed me tightly for a moment before suddenly rearing away.

“Oh bugger!” He looked frantic. “I didn’t go down on one knee. I should have. I’m sorry. I can do it now if you want me to?”

I shook my head no, a smile on my lips.

“Kiss me,” I instructed.

That earned me one of his cocky smiles. Evidently, he had bounced back from the knock I’d given his confidence.

He didn’t kiss me immediately. He was playful about it, lowering his head just a little and then pulling back when I stretched forward. It was cute . . . and frustrating. He continued to do that, teasing me mercilessly until I grabbed two fistfuls of his hair and pulled his head down.

Once our lips met, he forgot about teasing me. He backed me into the kitchen table, where we’d shared oh so many trysts. Luckily, I had started taking the pill, so we didn’t have to faff around looking for condoms anymore.

Grabbing my bum, he lifted me onto the table and stepped between my legs. As I pushed his coat off, I briefly wondered where the ring had gone. His lips trailed a path down to my sensitive neck, so I found it hard to care. It would turn up eventually.

Tom’s coat hit the floor with a slight thump. I began unbuttoning his shirt, but I was interrupted briefly when Tom pulled my jumper over my head. I giggled as my hair went every which way, but I quickly got back to work, as did Tom. His lips kissed and nibbled a trail down my neck to my breasts, which he devoured after deftly undoing my bra. He began sucking and nibbling my sensitive nipples.

His shirt finally joined his jacket. I pushed him away so I could jump down, quickly undo my jeans, and kick them off. Tom followed my lead and discarded the remainder of his clothes. Then he lifted me back onto the table and stepped between my legs, his thick cock nestled between my lips, driving me crazy as he began to thrust his hips slightly, rubbing his cock into my clit.

“Fuck me,” I urged. I was ready. Damn man was so sexy that we didn’t need foreplay.

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head playfully. “Not until I’ve had my fun.”

Now, in fairness, I knew from past experience that Tom “having his fun” would also be very fun for me—perhaps even more so. But that didn’t stop me pouting as he kneeled between my thighs and began to nibble on my lips, sucking them, scraping his teeth lightly over the sensitive flesh, doing enough to make me gasp and moan but not nearly enough to provide anything approaching relief.

I whimpered as he licked the length of my slit, pausing only slightly to give my clit an extra flick, which made me twitch.

This man was going to be the death of me.

I groaned as he found my clit again and lavished five seconds of delicious attention on it, leaving me even more vexed. What did a girl have to do to get fucked around here?

I decided it was probably better if I couldn’t see what he was doing. I laid back on the table, thrashing around wildly with each morsel of pleasure that he doled out.

He couldn’t keep teasing me forever, though. After what felt like an eternity, he finally locked his lips over my sensitive little bud and dragged his tongue over the nub. He rubbed, flicked, and sucked on my clit until I was writhing on the table. It got to the point that he grabbed my hands to try and keep me still. I held onto him with all my might, as if I could somehow transfer my own frustration to him through my grip.

He kept changing his rhythm, building me to a peak and then slowing slightly, leaving me desperate to come. Finally, he relented. Just when I thought he was going to pull back and leave me frustrated, he pushed me over the edge and into one of the most powerful orgasms I’d ever had. It crashed through me in powerful waves that almost lifted me off the table with their intensity. He did his best to keep the waves of bliss coming, eking my pleasure out until the waves were just gently lapping at me. I was an exhausted, gasping mess!

He removed his lips, kissed my inner thigh, and stood up. He hovered over me, almost menacingly.

“No more,” I begged. “Not yet.”

Tom laughed at my lack of stamina. He picked me up in a bridal hold to carry me to the bedroom.

“Whoa! Should you be doing this?” I asked even as my arms went around his neck to keep me steady.

“Yes.” He smiled at me. “But if I drop you, don’t sue me.”

“Drop?” My voice quavered and I tightened my grip, which made him laugh. Smug bastard!

We arrived upstairs with little trouble. He deposited me safely on the bed, dropping a kiss on my forehead.

“Be right back,” he promised.

I lay back and thought about how the next time I gave him a blow job, I was going to tease him until his head exploded. I snickered at the thought.

He reappeared a moment later, the ring box clutched in his fist.

“So was that a good enough audition? Will you wear my ring now?” He laughed as he held the box toward me.

“Aren’t you supposed to put it on for me?” I held my left hand out, wiggling my fingers by way of invitation.

“Damn it!” He jokingly admonished himself. “Well, at least I popped the question. That’s the important bit, right?”

I laughed as he slipped the ring on my finger.

“It fits perfectly,” I said with wonder. “How on earth did you manage that?”

“Well, I ordered a size larger than I thought you needed. After we started dating, I borrowed one of your other rings and asked the local jeweler to resize it. Do you really like it?”

He looked like an overeager six-year-old asking if he’d done well!

“It’s perfect,” I assured him, feeling dazzled and over the moon. “Just like you.”

He actually blushed. His expression was just too adorable not to kiss, so I kneeled on the bed, which put me at just the right height. I kissed him, softly, reverently, my hand on his cheek. I was trying to show him how much I loved him.

I must have done something right. When I pulled away, he kept his eyes closed, a dazed look on his face for a moment.

When he opened his eyes again, they positively glowed. His expression quickly turned from dazed to predatory.

“I’m afraid I’m going to be needing more than just a kiss,” he told me, his voice deep with lust. I could also feel his arousal pressing into my stomach.

“After all that teasing, if you think I’m going to give it up that easily, you’ve got another think coming!”

“Have I?” He smirked, and my heart stuttered for a moment. God, did this man do anything that wasn’t inherently sexy?

“Oh yes.” I may have been insanely turned on, but I wasn’t giving up without a fight!

He lowered his head, and his lips ghosted over the sensitive skin on my neck. “Are you sure about that?”

I gasped with pleasure. Wait, had he asked me something? What did he ask? Now he was kissing my neck, it greatly impaired my recall.

“Yes.” I sighed. Maybe it was the answer I meant to give, or maybe I was giving him permission. Either way, it seemed like a win-win scenario to me.

“Even if I promise to pin your hands beside your head so you can’t move, driving you wild with frustration?”

“Mmm.”

“And if I promise to bite your neck, scraping my teeth over your delicate flesh?”

“Uh huh.”

“And if I fuck you so hard that each thrust makes you whimper?”

“For God’s sake, shut up and fuck me!”

The next thing I knew, I had fallen crossways over the bed. Tom was hovering over me, holding my wrists by my shoulders so I couldn’t reach out to him. His length was poised at my entrance, but he wasn’t entering me and giving me the relief I needed.

“Say it again,” he told me.

Say what again? Oh. “Fuck me.”

“Beg.”

“Please fuck me.”

“You can do better than that,” he teased me.

“If you don’t fuck me right now, I will never fuck you again!”

He smiled. “That’s more of a demand, darling, but if you insist . . .” Suddenly, he thrust in, right to the hilt. I think I screamed. He gave me a moment to adjust before he began thrusting in earnest. I felt assaulted by sensations, so I closed my eyes.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

I did.

“That’s it,” he purred. “Look right into my eyes.”

I felt more than just naked and vulnerable before him, I felt as if he were looking into my soul and I into his. I whimpered.

“My beautiful lady,” he whispered. Then he lowered his head and kissed my neck as he pushed into me again.

I closed my eyes and allowed the sensations to assault me: the feeling of being stuffed with his cock, his pubis crashing into my clit each time he thrust, his lips pulling on the skin of my throat, my breasts squashed against his chest and rubbing against the smattering of hair.

Tom released my hands. I wrapped them around him, digging my nails into his back and scratching. He supported his weight on one hand and slipped the other between us, his long, dexterous fingers easily parting my lips and finding my clit, which he began to stroke in time with his thrusts.

I was already oversensitive from my first orgasm. When he also changed his angle of penetration, going deeper—if that were possible—I quickly climbed to my next peak, letting out a rather inelegant squeal as I spasmed in my ecstasy. I clamped down on Tom’s impressive length and elicited a groan from him. He came moments after me.

We were both panting as though we’d run a race. After taking a few moments to recover, Tom slipped out of me and rolled over, an arm around my waist taking me with him. I settled to the side of him, half on, half off, one leg nestled between his and my head on his shoulder.

“You picked the wrong career. You should have been a gigolo,” I teased.

“Nice idea. I just don’t think it has the earning potential.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think quite a few women would remortgage their houses for that.”

“Maybe. The problem is, I keep giving it away for free to this gorgeous brunette who lives near my mum.”

“That could be a problem,” I agreed. “I also hear she’s the jealous type.”

“And I hate catfights,” he said with a shudder. “I think I’ll have to put that dream aside for now and focus on acting.”

I laughed and kissed his shoulder. Then I held my left hand up so I could see my ring sparkle.

“You know, we still haven’t actually talked about the future,” I noted wryly.

“We haven’t,” he agreed. I could hear the amusement in his voice.

He’d been the one to go out on a limb before. As frightening as it might be, I knew it should be my turn.

“So am I welcome to join you when you go away?” My voice was a little squeakier than I might like, but I’d put myself out there, facing the possibility of rejection head-on.

“Of course,” he said, the arm around me tightening for a moment as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I know it might not always be possible, and I honestly wouldn’t try to talk anyone into going on the promotional tour. I only do them because I’m contractually obligated. But you’re always welcome to come with me, darling.”

“Maybe I could join you for the beginning and end of the press junket?”

“Of course. Just say the word, and I’ll make the arrangements.”

“I know how to buy a plane ticket,” I said with amusement.

“I know, but they probably wouldn’t be for my flights, or include home- or hotel-to-airport transportation, or any of the other perks the film company pays for.”

“I don’t need perks.”

“Say that again in six months,” he teased. “Trust me, the perks are the only thing that makes frequent traveling tolerable. And honestly, if you’re coming with me, I’d like you to actually be in the seat next to me.” He nuzzled into my hair. “It’s much easier to ask them to make the arrangements for both of us together!”

I wasn’t about to argue. I took a deep breath, bracing myself.

“What about when you’re shooting your next film?”

“That’s an independent movie. To save money, it’s shooting in Vancouver. We’ll be quite settled in the city for three months.”

“I’ve never been to Canada.” I hadn’t done nearly as much traveling as I thought I would when I was a kid. Since Tom would be working, I’d also have the freedom to explore. “I wouldn’t mind photographing some new landscapes.” As much as I loved my new projects, there was nothing quite like the glory of a beautiful sunset or a majestic vista.

“Plus you’ll have access to the cast to use for your real-life Warhol pictures,” Tom added.

“That’s true.”

“I’m also going to try to do at least one film in the UK a year. That way, I should make it home every weekend, if not every night,” Tom explained.

“That’s sweet, but you don’t have to do that for me.”

“I’m doing it for me! Do you have any idea how hard it was to be separated from you on that last promotional tour? And I hadn’t even discovered how insatiable you are in bed yet!”

I laughed and pressed a kiss to his chest.

“So what do you want to do for the rest of the day?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I stretched languorously.

“Nothing at all?”

“Well, nothing that requires leaving the room.”

“What if I get hungry?”

“I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“That requires leaving the room,” he noted.

“Me leaving the room. You’re the one who has to stay here. I have big plans for you.”

“Do you?” He chuckled.

“Yes. Do you still have your walking stick?”

“Somewhere, I think. Why?”

“Because when I’m done with you, you’re going to need it.”

“That sounds painful. Maybe I’ll just go home.”

“You’re the one who proposed to an insatiable woman—you don’t get to back out now, buddy.”

“That’s true.” His chest rose and fell as he laughed. “And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” With a contented sigh, I snuggled closer and kissed his chest.