Trick tucked Rachel away in the girls’ dressing room with Phoenix, of all people, sharing a bottle of something swiped from the bar. No one would tell them to stop.
Facing the music before Declan's desk was the next shit-show.
“Thought you told Nathan and Max not to do that.” Trick scrubbed his hair.
“I did. But Max, in particular, has an overdeveloped sense of justice. I’ll handle it with them.” Declan rested both hands on the top of his cane. “Your two weeks of vacation are granted.”
“Didn’t know I asked for it.”
“Take two weeks, Trick. You and Rachel. Sort it out. Then get your asses back here and keep our profitability streak going.”
Fuck, his eyes wanted to leak something at that moment. Gratitude, maybe? Relief? It didn’t matter because he was most definitely returning, perhaps now even married.
25
Rachel touched the blindfold as Trick carried her up the final steps. “Are we there yet?”
“Close.”
He angled her body so her legs wouldn't hit the door frame and stepped into the apartment.
“New paint smell. I love it,” she said. “A paint store?”
He chuckled, not taking the bait to tell her more. His footfalls sounded loud in the empty living area. When he got to the bedroom door, he eased her down until her feet hit the parquet floor.
“Now?” She touched the blindfold.
“Now.”
She ripped off the strip of black fabric, a gleeful smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “You remembered.”
“Of course, I did.”
The Happy Birthday banner spanned the length of the headboard over their new bed. It had been delivered that morning just in time for his surprise, new digs in which they'd start their new life.
She turned, threw her arms around him, and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. I'd almost forgotten with everything that has happened. Is this your new place?” She looked around. “You're going to need more furniture than just a bed, Trick.”
“No, I'm not, and this is our place. You said—”
“I know what I said.” She looked down at her hands. Her eyes were still a little puffy from lack of sleep from the last few days of sitting in a courtroom for Jay’s bail hearing—as if it was even possible for the man to have anyone post for him—and then meetings with attorneys and fielding dozens of calls to figure out what was next for her, for him, for them together.
“It's resolved.” He lifted her chin so she'd have to look at him. “You said you'd move in with me once it was. Wouldn't you like to declare this birthday the one where we officially start over?”
“And not at the surprise party waiting for me at Shakedown?”
“Who told?” His eyes narrowed.
“I'd never out Nathan.” She dramatically batted her eyelashes, something she must have picked up from the dancers.
He took a long moment to stare down at the woman he thought he'd lost forever. She looked the same yet different—eyes clearer and more alive than he'd ever recalled, despite the edge of sadness in her voice.
“Tell you what,” he said. “We finally get back to where we belong, living together, and I won't press the whole marriage thing, which was going to be next.”
She paled.
“That scary? The thought of marrying me?”
“I hocked your ring.” She stepped backward. “How do I—”
“You mean this one?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Cartier two-carat solitaire pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
“Oh, my God.” She took it from him. “How did you find it?”
“Declan knows every pawn shop from here to Florida. He put out the word. I managed to buy it back once Declan explained it to the new owner.”
She peered up at him from under those long, dark eyelashes. “You're always going to be wearing that smug look, aren't you?”
“Yep.”
She lifted the ring to the light as if she couldn't believe it was real.
He took the diamond from her. “So, Miss Rachel Grant …” He lifted her hand and positioned the ring at the tip of her fourth finger. “Will you?”
“Marry you?”
He slipped it over her knuckle. “Why, yes, Miss Grant, I will marry you. I figure we've already got the 'for richer or poorer' part down.”
She laughed and pulled her hand back. “Well, I don't know. How do I know if you're good in bed, Mr. Masters?”
“I thought you were worried that's all we had.”
“I know we have more than that.” Her face colored. “At least I do now. You're a better man than I ever thought, Trick.”
He lifted her hands and stared at the ring on her finger. The clichéd symbol meant more to him than he could say. He kissed the back of her hand.
She pointed to the mattress. “Is this new?”
“Never been touched before.”
“Care to prove the 'good in bed' thing? I mean, I know you're good on a desk, against a door, on the carpet, but it's been so long since—”
He silenced her budding speech with his mouth. For long minutes, he used his tongue and lips to remove any of her doubts. When he released her, her eyes shone with a lustful acquiescence.
“Care to christen my birthday present?” she asked.
God, he loved this woman. He led her to the bed, sat, and pulled her to straddle him. “I care very much.” He rocked his pelvis so she could feel how much he agreed with her suggestion.
26
Legs splayed on either side, Rachel took a long moment to appreciate his growing arousal pressing against her clit. An almost imperceptible moan left his throat when she arched her hips, a greedy taunt to urge him to harden more. His cock, captured behind his jeans, thickened, and she allowed her ego to swell a little knowing she was the cause of his response.
His fingers crept up her shirt, his eyes firing with a fierce determination. The way he looked at her—probably always had looked at her—made her feel like every man's fantasy. But she was his, and he was hers. A sense of belonging hit her with such power, her eyes pricked. She was terrified, overwhelmed, and oh, so grateful for the recent turn of events. The truth really did set one free.
His hand cradled her face as if understanding something had shifted at that moment. Now that she was free of her shirt, the fingers of his other hand skimmed her lower back and trailed up her spine in long lazy caresses.
“God, you're beautiful, Rachel.” His blue-gray eyes softened.
She felt beautiful. Her vision dimmed, and she let her legs melt over his muscular thighs as his fingers drifted down to possessively grasp her ass. She brushed her breasts against his chest, earning her a small sigh from his lips. In a dizzying rush, she gave in to all the sensations and love she felt for this man.
With one hand full of her ass cheek, the other slipped her bra down, baring her breasts. Her body already hummed with desire, so no argument came from her. He could rip her clothes to shreds, and she wouldn't care. When his hot mouth latched onto one nipple, a long groan left her throat. He suckled one breast and then moved to the other. God, what he could do with his tongue. Her hips rocked with a mind of their own. Whimpering, her hands threaded his hair. As if urged by her moans, he pulled harder on her nipple, and she grew impossibly more turned on. She wanted nothing more than to impale herself on that thick ridge she felt under her pussy.