Everything I Need, page 23
So…
What to do? What to do…what to do…?
Their one-year anniversary was coming up in a couple of months, wasn’t it? Maybe he should plan the proposal around that. He could take her to, say, Bali or Fiji for a quiet weekend in one of those luxury huts on the water. She’d love that. Or he could do it over the holidays, which of course opened up a whole new can of worms in terms of whether to spend the holidays at Sandringham with Granny and his family (his soul gave a big thumbs-down at the idea of enduring another singalong with Uncle Dicky) or in Journey’s End with Baptiste, Samira and the baby, who would be experiencing his first Christmas. That sounded much more fun, as far as he was concerned.
Well, they’d figure it out. They had time.
They had all the time in the world.
He discovered her sitting on an ottoman looking dazed, her hands on her cheeks and her eyes wide.
“Oh, my God,” she said on a giggle tinged with hysteria. “I just met the Queen of England. Your grandmother is the Queen of England. I can’t believe it.”
He would have laughed with her—it was always amusing to witness people meeting Granny for the first time—but a sudden surge of emotion made that impossible.
It overtook him sometimes, threatening to wipe him out.
Melody was glorious. Her eyes…her skin…her amazing smile, which always seemed to collect all the joy in the universe and concentrate it on her face. With the late morning sun shining through the windows and catching streaks of gold through her tumbling curls, she looked as though she had a halo. Which only made sense, because God knew she had to be an angel capable of miracles to bring about the sorts of changes his life had undergone since he met her.
She was a mere mortal. He understood that. Just an average-sized woman with workaholic tendencies, a stubborn streak a mile wide and a spine made of titanium. Yet she was such an outsized force in his life and loomed so large when he thought of her that there was something triply endearing about seeing her take such girlish delight in something.
He slowly walked closer, hoping to get his unexpected tears on lockdown and give his throat a chance to loosen up enough to say something by the time he arrived at the sofa and sat opposite her, but no dice.
“Anthony,” she said as she got a good look at him, love shining bright in her eyes even as her smile slipped away. “It’s okay, Blue Eyes. Don’t cry. You’re breaking my heart.”
He could only shake his head and press his lips together.
A manly tear or two was one thing.
Sobbing was out of the question.
Yet he couldn’t quite get it together when she scooted to the edge of her ottoman, ran her soft hands through his hair and pressed fervent kisses to his face. By this point, she knew him as well as anyone did, but he didn’t have the words to tell her how far she’d brought him since they first met. How different these tears were from the despairing ones he’d cried in the days and months after his mother died. How his body was far too small to contain all the swelling joy inside him.
She pulled back a little and wiped his tears away, her brown-eyed gaze steady and warm.
Strong.
He stared at her as they held tight to each other’s hands, wanting her to see the magic she’d performed. Hoping to cobble together enough of an explanation for her to understand that he wasn’t insane.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he asked her.
She looked down and shook her head, wiping away a quick tear of her own.
“It would have been…” Hoarseness forced him to stop and clear his throat. “It would have been enough for you to come along and smile at me. To make me laugh. To challenge me. To drive me mad in bed. To enthrall me.”
Shaky laugh from Melody, who wiped away another tear as it traced down her cheek.
“But for you to see inside me and know I need my career and my freedom when I didn’t even know it myself…for you to charm my grandmother like that…”
He shook his head, incredulous, and rested his elbows on his knees so he could rub his temples and get his act together while another wave got him. She said nothing, giving him both the time he needed and her silent support, which was everything.
When he was ready, he used his shirtsleeves to wipe his face (oh, how Granny would love that if she could see him now) and took Melody’s hands again.
“You have to marry me,” he said urgently, his voice rough. “Only think of all the ways I can muck things up again without you here. You don’t want that, do you?”
She laughed.
And speaking of mucking things up…
It occurred to him, far too late, that he’d sprung this on her with none of the romantic gestures he’d had in mind. He’d just blurted it all out there, which was only to be expected because he was an idiot where these things were concerned. But it wasn’t too late for him to do one thing right.
So he slid to his knee in front of her.
“Please marry me.”
She laughed again. A tear or two fell. He wiped them away, savoring the warmth of her skin.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her smile slowly fading. “It’s such a hard decision. I was looking forward to being alone with my career to keep me busy during the day and my medical journals and a cat to keep me company at night.”
He wiped another of her tears, waiting.
“And now, the greatest man I could ever hope to meet shows up on my doorstep. And he brings all this”—she swept her arm wide— “with him. I wonder what I should do?”
“You don’t have a choice. You said you would marry me today if I agreed to move to Journey’s End, and now that’s a done deal. I even got Granny to sign off on it. So you should say yes.”
“Yes.”
He felt a wild swoop of euphoria. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
He grabbed her face and started to kiss her to make it official, then thought better of it and reached into the pocket of his slacks.
“Anthony.”
“Patience, darling. You need your ring, don’t you?”
“There’s a ring?”
He pulled out the black velvet box granny had just given him. Opened it to show her.
She gasped and put a hand over her heart, which he took as good signs.
“Granny let me choose a couple of things from her collection,” he said, pointing. “The emerald-cut diamond in the center there came from my great-grandmother’s tiara, which is the one my mother wore to the first state dinner after she got married. I thought about giving you her engagement ring, but that seemed like bad luck for us, given how their marriage turned out, don’t you think? And the baguettes on the sides came from one of Granny’s favorite necklaces. But that thing’s got so many diamonds no one will ever know it’s a couple short.”
“It’s amazing,” she said, breathless, as she presented him with her left hand. “It’s exactly what I would have chosen for myself.”
Grinning, he slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.
“How did you—”
“I rummaged through your jewelry box while you were sleeping and traced a couple of your rings.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “You’re sure you weren’t trained by MI6?”
He laughed. Kissed her hand. Looked up and found himself startled by the blinding glow of happiness in her expression.
And the sudden startled heat as he traced a thumb over the inside of her wrist.
He hesitated, his heart thudding in his chest.
Then he kissed her mouth. It was dewy. Sweet.
Her smile receded in favor of the hard glitter of desire in her eyes and the harsh sound of their breath as anticipation built between them.
His paused, his attention dipping to those lush lips he loved so much, which of course made him lick his own lips.
She gasped.
He knew and loved that needy sound. So he kissed her again, harder, employing the shallow sweep of his tongue to make her just a bit hotter as he experimentally trailed his fingers down the outside of her breasts to see if he could spark enough electricity to make her jump.
Ah. There it was.
It occurred to him that he might not be the one for grand romantic gestures or charming chitchat at cocktail parties like, say, Baptiste and Nick. His name would be on nobody’s suggestion list if the occasion called for someone to be eloquent and insightful with his feelings.
But when it came to driving the lovely Dr. Harrison out of her fucking mind with lust, then he was The Man.
Oh, yes, indeed.
So he broke the kiss just as she began to squirm and surge to get closer to him, thrilled that he possessed the power to make her eyes glaze over like that.
“I wonder if I might have a word with you in the bedroom, fiancée,” he murmured, surging to his feet and hooking his fingers through her dress’s belt to pull her up with him.
“I suppose,” she said, her color deliciously high now. “But I’m not sure what you could say to me in there that you couldn’t say out here.”
He glanced around at the sitting room while his hands went to work unknotting her belt. “I’m not sure Granny’s furniture is equipped to handle harsh language. And I wanted to mention that I plan to fuck you into next week.”
“Oh, thank God,” she said, heaving a dramatic sigh. “I was afraid you’d start to call it making love or some other euphemism now that we’re engaged.”
He frowned down at her, incredulity getting the best of him.
“You really are the only woman for me, aren’t you?”
“You’d better believe it,” she said, hitching up her chin.
And that was enough with the talking.
He grabbed her hand and all but yanked her poor arm out of its socket as he tugged her down the hall to the bedroom.
“Take off your pretty dress,” he said, turning her loose long enough to yank the heavy drapes closed before they gave some passing gardener the shock of his life. Then he went to work on his own clothes. “Wouldn’t want to wrinkle it.”
Happy to oblige, she unwrapped the thing and let it slither down her arms and drop to the floor, revealing all the luscious curves he could never quite get enough of. Today she wore a lacy white bra and panties set that highlighted her honeyed skin, lifted her breasts for his greedy hands and eyes and also revealed far more of her tiny dark nipples and pussy than they covered.
He paused, arrested.
“You’ve been shopping, I see.”
She fluffed up her hair, then put a hand on her hip, meeting his gaze with an unmistakable challenge in her eye.
“Hope you don’t mind. I wasn’t sure what the dress code was in London.”
He started to laugh, but his straining cock had only so much patience and it was about to run out. So he pulled her in and helped himself to big servings of her tight arse and rounded hips, her hair and breasts and mouth.
She was as starved and eager for him as he was for her, urging him on by hooking him around the waist with one of her juicy thighs and planting her hands on his arse while she thrust against him and moaned with the thrill of it all.
When his skin felt hot and tight and the overwhelming lust locked all his breath in his throat, he broke the kiss and pushed her back enough to get a hand between them.
“How would you like it today, Dr. Harrison?” he asked silkily, skimming his fingers under the edge of her panties and along the creamy cleft between her legs. “Missionary? Cowgirl? Doggy?”
She’d groaned and let her eyes roll closed and her head fall back when he touched her there, but now she managed to stare him in the eye and focus as she nuzzled and nipped his mouth just enough to make him wonder if he’d come in his pants the way he’d done all those years ago with his first girlfriend, thereby going down in flames on the greatest day of his life.
And then it got worse.
“Against the wall.”
He gaped at her.
“And don’t break any of Granny’s things,” she added, standing on her tiptoes and kissing him again.
A wild combination of triumph and euphoria took over, guiding his hands and making him rougher than he’d meant to be. He told himself to be considerate on this day of days, but there was a serious disconnect between what his brain said and what his body heard.
All he knew was that his mouth was full of her tongue, his hands were full of her arse, her thighs were wrapped in a death grip around his waist and the room had four good walls that needed a workout.
He backed her against the nearest one and braced himself with one hand. Ever helpful, she loosened her grip enough for him to reach inside his boxers and get his cock in hand. They adjusted their angles.
“If you’re not ready, speak now or forever hold your peace,” he said, panting and trembling with the effort to keep himself in check.
“I’m so past ready.”
He laughed, said a silent thank-you that they’d long ago dispensed with condoms since she was on the pill, and thrust inside her.
They both gasped. He may have cursed. He definitely saw stars as her tight little pussy clamped down and held on tight. They both needed a moment to adjust to the position and the delicious intimacy of staring each other in the face like this.
He shook his head, another surge of emotion catching him off guard.
Those brown eyes were there, seeing everything. Understanding everything.
“I love you,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“And I love you.”
They found their rhythm and picked up the pace. He thrust harder. Deeper. His legs and arms burned with the strain of exertion, but that somehow only enhanced the experience, making him all the more mindful of her earthy scent. The silkiness of her skin. The breathiness of her cries. The rawness of her voice as she called his name when she came.
He held her as she stiffened and then melted, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder so that her hair trailed down his arm. And when she’d begun to catch her breath again, he swung her around and laid her on the bed without pulling out.
His turn.
He pumped his hips and followed the spiraling sensations to the most explosive orgasm of his life, shouting her name as he came because he was far too full of her to keep it all inside.
And when it was over and they’d settled back to earth with him rolling over so she lay atop him, she kissed his sweaty chest and raised her head to look at him and grin.
“What?”
“I can’t decide what the best part of my day was. Seeing the cottage and KP next door, finding out you love me and are willing to move to Journey’s End, meeting the Queen or getting engaged. And it’s barely noon yet!”
“It damn well better be the mind-blowing fucking,” he said, glaring at her.
“There is that,” she said, laughing.
“And what about the paparazzi?” he asked, smoothing her back. “Was that the worst part?”
She shook her head, the dreaded P-word not dimming her glow a bit.
“The good parts of my day were so amazing I don’t remember any bad parts.”
“Good,” he said, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger for the pleasure of seeing it spring back into place again. “I can’t promise to save you from all of that, but I can promise to always love you as hard as I can.”
She leaned in for a gentle kiss before pulling back with the smile of a well-satisfied woman on her lips.
“That’s the only promise I need.”
Epilogue
“I don’t know about you, but the sight of all these wedding preparations is starting to make me feel nauseous,” Melody whispered in Anthony’s ear that Friday night at Baptiste and Samira’s gorgeous rehearsal dinner. They were in the park, where flickering lanterns adorned the tables, strings of fairy lights ran through the trees, moonlight glittered off the Hudson winding through the valley below and the rose-covered gazebo was all set for the ceremony tomorrow. Melody had just finished snapping several shots of baby Jean-Luc, who’d smiled for the first time, and most of the people at their table, including Baptiste and Samira, had headed off for a spin around the dance floor. “Let’s have a show of hands. All in favor of eloping to Vegas?”
Anthony raised his hand along with her, much to her surprise.
“We could go down to the courthouse Monday morning, as far as I’m concerned,” he said.
“Could you wear the uniform with all the medals that you wore to your investiture? I love a man in uniform.”
He made an outraged sound. “Well, why not mention it? I would’ve been parading around in the bloody thing this whole time.”
They laughed.
“So are we meeting on the courthouse steps?” she asked hopefully.
“We’d better not. Granny would have my head. She loves weddings. She’s made some noises about St. George’s for us.”
Melody grimaced. “How can she be making noises? We’ve only been engaged for thirty seconds.”
“You’ve no idea,” he said grimly. “She loves helping with the flowers and the music, according to my cousins. You’ve been warned.”
“And where’s St. George’s?”
“Windsor.”
“As in Windsor Castle?” She felt a vague flare of panic. “Isn’t that a bit much for a non-heir like you?”
“One might think. I raised that very point with Granny. She says it’s quite small and intimate.”
“Good.” Her lungs loosened up enough for a relieved exhale. “How many people does it hold?”
“Only eight hundred,” Anthony said blithely, disappearing behind a sip of his Guinness.
“Eight hundred?” she cried. “Are you serious?”
