Perfect Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

I lean into my husband—yeah, still getting used to that—as he slides an arm around me. “This is nicer than Heron’s plane. I borrowed it coming back from Florida when I begged you for a second chance—and I’m pretty damn glad I did.”

“You took a private plane back?” I whisper.

“I tried to go commercial flight first, but I couldn’t get one soon enough. I had to get back to you, Reese. No delays.” The heat in his voice makes my heart somersault.

Even so, I can’t resist a tease.

“You could have just...not left me in the first place,” I say, trying and failing not to smile.

“Biggest mistake of my life. I hope I’m still making it right,” he growls, kissing my neck.

“Hmm, I suppose you convinced me the day you proposed.”

“You weren’t sure of me until then?” he says, pulling back and catching me in his gaze.

“I needed time,” I admit. “I was a little afraid if something else popped up, you might skip out again.”

“Bull. You’ll need a herd of samurai sharks to make me leave you or this baby alone again—and even then I’ll go down swinging.” He leans over, pressing his lips to mine.

“Samurai sharks, huh?” I blink.

He grins.

I answer him by leaning in, deepening the kiss, giving up my mouth.

Oh, holy hell.

Without breaking our kiss, his fingers find my shin and glide up it until he’s drawing circles on the crevice of my thigh.

Releasing my mouth, he stamps a tender kiss on my forehead.

I close my eyes, holding my breath in delirious anticipation.

His hand edges so wickedly close to where I want it—where I need him—but he’s still so far away.

My next harsh, shaking breath makes his fingers crawl closer, until they’re under my satin panties. He traces up and down my seam—once, twice, three times.

Each more agonizing than the last.

“Is there a room on this thing?” I whimper.

Without a word, he picks me up in the blanket and carries me to the back of the plane where—Jesus, I was just kidding, but apparently it’s real.

A gorgeous bed awaits, surrounded by window seats. That’s where we topple over just as the plane charges down the tarmac.

I dig my nails into his neck, desperate for more but too afraid to ask.

His fingers return to the heat between my legs.

I release a jagged breath.

Prepare for takeoff. No, I don’t mean the plane.

He unknots my hand from the blanket and takes it in his free hand. His finger shoves my panties aside, slipping into me up to the knuckle.

“Nick,” I whimper.

His thumb presses my clit, tracing mad circles as his finger pumps in and out, expertly poised on the spot that always touches off an earthquake.

My eyes pinch shut and I’m gone.

Surrendering to madness, to ecstasy, to him.

He presses a soft kiss to my temple, even as his hand works me over like the devil.

“Benefits of flying private. You convinced yet?”

“Yes!” I hiss, my fingers tugging at the sheets, bracing for the storm he’s putting into me at thirty thousand feet.

With his eyes shimmering like forests, just as wild and forbidden, his tongue slides between my lips. There’s a hunger in his kiss, especially in the worn moan he drags out of me.

Every time his hand moves, I’m arching into it, sighing against his growl, each one louder than the last.

Somehow, I find the poise to undo the top buttons on his crisp white shirt.

“Fun fact: I’m not taking your wedding dress off until we’re at our place,” he says with a wild gleam in his eye.

“Whyyyy?” I grind against his hand. “I want you. Here. Now.”

“I want you, too, but I always swore I’d carry my bride over a proper threshold,” he says, pressing his forehead against mine.

Damn him.

I’m tempted to tell him to leave the stupid thing on and take me under it, but the way his hands glide up and down my bare skin when we make love is half the fun.

“I’m burning up. I’ll never survive three hours of this,” I say.

He moves his hand again, frigging my clit with a friction that makes me see stars.

“So burn for me, Reese. Come real sweet for me first and come harder when we land,” he snarls, a delicious darkness in his eyes.

“But I...I need more,” I whine again, aching to seduce him, to make him lose control.

“I took your virginity in the back of a car. We’re doing our wedding night right.” His hand moves away from the magic spot.

“Ughhh. You weren’t supposed to stop.”

“Sit up.”

I obey. What’s he doing?

Nick disappears under the blanket. He removes my shoes one at a time.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

The satin panties coming off are a clue. So is the way he pushes my legs apart, kissing up my thighs, crawling under my dress like a man possessed.

Hot breath and the perfect scratch of beard graze my wetness.