Perfect Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

His trunks fall in a heap around his ankles and I feel every delirious inch of his hardness.

I’m losing my grasp when he drops to his knees, right between my thighs. Flicking off the bikini bottom, he runs his hand over me, teasing two fingers at my entrance.

“Fuck, you’re ready,” he whispers.

Before I can even breathe, he’s in.

For him, I might always be ready.

I tangle my arms around him and lean up to catch his mouth. His tongue moves in a slow, rising burn against mine, matching the rhythm of his hips.

We slip into a tempo of crashing flesh and warring teeth and filthy words, and it’s glorious.

He only breaks our kiss to grip my shoulders—the better to hold me down while his thrusts sweep me away, faster and faster.

I wrap my legs around him, panting, trying to take him deeper. He’s on me now, harder, the weight of his balls thumping my skin.

Guttural delight tears up his throat when I tense, when fire ignites in my belly, when I can’t hold back.

“Oh God!” I push up against him, my pussy clenching, fused to his thrusts.

I go crashing headfirst into white-hot ecstasy with my nails racing down his back, screaming at the stars, and then thrashing, convulsing, shrieking as he joins me in the maelstrom.

He throbs, mounted deep inside me.

He shakes, every gorgeous muscle bowing.

My everything clenches, wishing we could melt together.

For a little bit of forever, we do, molten and half-crazed, two wild things tearing at each other as he empties himself inside me.

Holy hell. At this rate, it won’t be long at all before we’ve got more than one kid.

When sanity returns, he repositions us so I’m on top. We kiss in a slow, wordless meandering of tongues.

We bask in the afterglow, just breathing, until he picks up the bag of cotton candy and insists on feeding me more.

He wraps the towel around me.

“Tomorrow, it’s back to reality,” he says, kissing my neck. “Work, doctor visits, baby planning, making dinner together, being Mrs. Brandt. Ready for the adventure, sweetheart?”

“Not sure.” I grin. “It’s going to be kinda hard not to jump you all day. With these hormones, I might have to get a set of handcuffs to keep you home.”

He laughs, swiping a hand over his face.

“Shit, I can’t believe you said that. I’ve corrupted you.” He kisses me, his eyes dark in the night.

“No argument. I can’t think of anything better than being your wife,” I say, laying my head against his chest.

He closes his arms around me and lifts me up so we’re face-to-face. I can’t decide what’s more beautiful—the starscape blazing above us or his emerald eyes, all for me, promising entire worlds.

Whatever world I choose, as long as I live, it’ll always be the one I inhabit with my bossy, charming, bad-tempered, funny, and unbearably sexy man.

I’ll always be at the wheel of this life, and he’ll always show me the way.

“As long as you’re mine, I’m so fucking glad you feel that way,” he says, closing his lips over mine.

Yeah, forget the stars.

His eyes beat them, hands down, and they’re filled with the sorcery of love that’s shifted my whole universe.

For me. For our family. For us.

I’ve found my perfect grump and I’m his to the end.