He looked ridiculously handsome in slacks and a tight white shirt that accentuated his muscular body. The shadow of a beard showed on his face, giving him a slightly rugged appearance that had a surprisingly pleasant effect on me.
“Mr. Chanler,” I droned. I didn’t hold out my hand like last time and instead stood on my tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Surprise and appreciation flickered in his eyes.
“Gigi,” he said.
I didn’t react to his use of my nickname, even though my parents exchanged confused looks.
“I’m here to inquire about your decision.”
I smiled pleasantly. “Why don’t we take a stroll in the gardens?”
I didn’t wait for his reply and headed for the French doors. His steps sounded behind me. When I opened the door, he was so close behind me a little shiver shot down my back.
I stepped outside and followed the narrow pathway meandering through our garden until I arrived in a clearing surrounded by bushes and trees, hidden from view. A little stone bench stood in its center.
Mr. Chanler’s hand curled around my wrist and pulled me against him for a passionate kiss. I almost lost myself in him, but stubbornness won, and I finally tore away, my lips still tingling.
“You can’t just kiss me.”
He smirked. “Tell me, Gigi, are you sore?”
I shrugged. “A little.”
He came closer again but I stood my ground. “But you want to be fucked like that again, don’t you?”
Absolutely. “I’m confident I can keep myself otherwise entertained like I’ve done the past few years.”
Lust flared up in his eyes. Did it turn him on to think of me pleasuring myself?
“I told you I need time to consider your offer, and yet you are here not giving me the time I require,” I brought our conversation back to a safer topic.
“Don’t pretend last night didn’t change your mind. I’m fairly sure you have the answer to my question.” His blatant confidence—arrogance even—fired up my anger. Last night may have been mind-blowing, but I still thought with my brain and not the pounding place between my thighs. Problem was my brain voted for Mr. Chanler as well. Only my heart was still confused.
“Nothing changed,” I muttered.
Mr. Chanler grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Everything changed, because you allowed yourself to see me without preconceptions, and you liked what you saw.”
“I saw a trickster, Mr. Chanler.”
“Peyton.”
I sighed. “Trickery isn’t a good start for a marriage.”
“You could have realized it was me, but you enjoyed your anonymous night of revelry too much, Jean, admit it.”
“I did,” I said and then I voiced the question that had been bothering me for a while. “Why do you even want to marry me? What’s in it for you? And don’t tell me my beauty. I’m not blind. There are plenty of pretty fish in the ocean and they don’t have a broke family as an added bonus.”
“Apart from a lifetime of my cock in your pretty mouth, ass, and pussy?”
I narrowed my eyes. “The truth.”
“That’s the truth.” His lips twitched, and a dimple appeared in his right cheek. Of course he had to have a cute dimple. “Part of the truth anyway…You know, originally this was all to show you your place. Maybe you don’t remember but we met before. Three years ago, at a party. I asked you to dance, and you were an arrogant, spoiled little brat telling me I wasn’t on the list of important names you needed to dance with.”
I racked my brain, then a hazy memory formed. “My parents had been shoving possible suitors at me for hours. My feet were numb from dancing and my lips cracked from chitchat. I knew my mother would have a coronary if I refused anyone she considered of importance, that’s why I checked your name. I just wanted to catch my breath before the next old money bachelor stepped on my toes.” I tilted my head. “You remembered that incident for all those years? You enjoy holding grudges.”
He smirked. “No, I forgot quickly, but then your name reached my ears because your parents were looking for a rich suitor. I thought this was my chance to pay you back.”
“So, you aren’t really interested in marriage? You just wanted to see me agree so you could turn me down like I did you all those years ago.”
“And claim all those delicious firsts.”
I glowered, and tried to pull out of his hold, but his fingers on my upper arms tightened. “You looked as if you had a stick up your ass. No fun. But now that I know it’s only my thumb up that pretty crack, I’m pleased.”
I nodded, trying to hide my hurt. “Well, I think we can agree that you don’t really want to marry me. You got your payback, and I can go on with my life.”
He pulled me toward his irresistible body. “I must say I changed my mind about you. Last night wasn’t about payback. It was so much more. You fascinate me. Your stubborn, prideful streak. Your naughty, daring side. We could have fun, inside and outside the bedroom.”
“Marriage is more than fun.”
“In most cases it’s no fun at all. Why not combine pleasure with duty? I think the worst fate is boredom, but I have a feeling we’ll keep each other on our toes.”
He had a point. A life of boredom with a stuck-up husband seemed like a far worse fate than nights of pleasure with him. Yet, I didn’t want to give in too easily, not even to spare my parents’ heartache. “I can give you a preliminary yes.”
He chuckled. “Preliminary?”
“The yes will be based on the condition that we’re spending time together over the next four weeks and enjoy it. Then my yes will turn into a final one. Either way, you promise not to buy my father’s business.”
“Your father won’t have a business for much longer if he doesn’t get some money soon.”
“That’s our problem, not yours.” I held out my hand. “Deal?”
He smirked. “Deal.” He pulled me in for a kiss, but I turned my head so his lips grazed my cheek. “I think we should take our relationship one step at a time.”
His eyes flickered with challenge. “You’re going to miss my tongue and cock in your pussy, Gigi.”
Oh, I would, no doubt. “Like you’ll miss my lips around your cock. Marriage means sacrifice.”
He chuckled.
I scanned his face. “You didn’t shave this morning.”
His expression became mischievous. “I’m growing a beard to show you how good the friction feels on your pussy.”
“I still don’t like beards.”
“Maybe I can convince you of the perks of my beard and a marriage to me.”
He did—convince me that is.
After my parents’ initial disapproval and worry over my decision to make Peyton wait, they soon relaxed when they realized how good things were going between us, because they really were.
Peyton’s mischievous, daring side kept me entertained, and not just between the sheets. My ban of physical action hadn’t held very long.
And he was right regarding his facial hair, as well. The scratch of the stubble when Peyton ate my pussy added to my pleasure. Peyton knew how to handle his beard, and in its shorter state it gave him a rugged look I appreciated very much.