Worth the Wait (Kingston Ale House) Read online

  “Maybe we can still honor your contract,” he said. “I know Whitney feels like shit about what she did.”

  Grace shook her head and reached for the phone, locking the screen before handing it back.

  “This isn’t for me,” she said. “It’s for us. If there’s anything I learned from the events of the past six months, it’s that I can’t control everything. I can’t guarantee my happiness just by following the tenets of some book. And the tiny pockets of amazing, like this one right now? I don’t want to share them with anyone. I told Whitney this was never about the money. I’ll get my shop. It might not be the one I showed you, but it will be another one that will be just as perfect. The cleanse was about finding what was missing, what was keeping me from getting it right for far too long.”

  “And what’s that?” he asked, tugging at the bottom of her jacket until she fell back into his chest again.

  “You.”

  And just like that her mouth found his, and Jeremy saw stars. Her lips were soft and wet. He tasted the salt of her tears and wasn’t entirely certain his own weren’t mixed in, too. The kiss was nothing he’d expected and everything he’d hoped it could be. His lips parted, and her tongue entered his mouth, mingling with his. His hands dipped under her jacket to her hips, his thumb brushing a patch of skin peeking between her T-shirt and pants. This was probably breaking every rule on the list the doctor sent him home with, but he didn’t care. If anyone tried to separate them after three months of only guessing how much he needed her, he’d risk busting a stitch or another ER visit if it meant never stopping this kiss.

  He pulled her closer, and there was no longer anything between them. No book. No exes. No more fucking fear. All that was left were simply sweats and yoga pants. She thrust against his erection and whimpered. He tilted his pelvis into her, begging her to ride him like this until she came. And then he’d make her come again. With his fingers. His mouth. Burying himself inside her. Everything she’d denied herself for the past six months he wanted to give to her tonight.

  “I love you, Grace,” he said, his voice rough and breathless between kisses. “You. And it’s not because you just happened into my life. It’s because you are beautiful and brilliant and selfless, and I’m not sure how the hell I managed without knowing you until now.”

  She took a step back, and he physically ached at their separation. Then she threaded her fingers through his.

  “You’re an injured man,” she said, with just a hint of teasing in her voice. “We should probably get you to bed.”

  He didn’t argue as she led him toward the bedroom and straight to the bed where he’d almost forgotten first telling her he loved her. He collapsed onto his back, and she dropped her jacket on the floor while kicking off her slippers.

  “Are you going to tuck me in?” he asked, and for the first time since she’d arrived, she smiled. But this was like no other smile he’d seen on her before. This grin was wicked, and he needed her back on top of him so he could kiss it off her beautiful face.

  This was really happening.

  She strode toward him in what wasn’t a tank top but a fucking camisole, her nipples hard beneath the thin cotton. He didn’t have long to imagine what lay beneath the fabric because she pulled it over her head and walked the last couple of steps topless.

  “Shit, Grace. You are going to ruin me.” Then he laughed. Like she hadn’t already.

  “That’s the plan,” she said, climbing onto the bed. She leaned down to kiss him again. “I love you.”

  “I know,” he said against her lips. “But it’s still pretty fucking nice to hear.”

  He cupped her breasts, taking one into his mouth and then the other, teeth nipping at her peaked nipples as she cried out.

  “Shit,” he said. “The phone stuff was hot, but hearing you in person is driving me crazy.”

  She palmed him over his sweats. Then her eyes opened wide.

  “I went commando tonight,” he said with a grin. “Guess I still had high hopes even after everything that happened.”

  She slid beneath the elastic and wrapped a hand around his cock, her grip firm, and he hissed through clenched teeth as she slid up to the tip and swirled his wetness over his skin. She laughed.

  He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t aware my dick was a laughing matter,” he said flatly.

  She shook her head. “No. That’s not it. It’s just—tonight, when you found me in the bathroom—part of me was freaking out about whether or not we’d connect physically. I was afraid we were so good without this, that we’d probably crash and burn when it finally came down to it.”

  He was laughing now.

  “You, too?” she asked. “You were nervous?”

  “Not one fucking bit, beautiful. I knew you’d ruin me. I just wasn’t prepared for how thoroughly you’d do it.”

  He pulled her down to kiss her again, urging her to his side. He could still leave her access to do what she wanted with him while giving himself equal access to what was beneath those yoga pants.

  She stroked him from root to tip while her tongue plunged into his mouth, and he swore he’d never get enough of her. His need was insatiable, and his love for this woman knew no bounds. He snuck his hand beneath the seam of her pants and drew in a sharp breath. He felt her smile.

  “I went commando, too,” she whispered.

  He dipped a single finger into her warmth. She gasped, and he groaned through gritted teeth at how ready she was for him.

  “Can you not wear underwear ever?” he asked. “Seriously. If you promise to never wear underwear again, I vow to do this anytime you ask.”

  She spoke through tiny sharp breaths as he sank into her.

  “I think you’ll probably do that for me anyway,” she said. “Whether I’m wearing underwear or not.”

  She had a point.

  He responded by adding a second finger, sliding in at a snail’s pace while she writhed around his hand. Then he topped it off by swirling his thumb over her clit.

  She whimpered.

  “Jeremy. It’s too much. I can’t hold out.”

  Good. Neither can I.

  He pointed to his nightstand where his wallet lay.

  “My high hopes also included bringing a few condoms with me tonight.”

  She grabbed the wallet and opened it, pulling out a chain of ten from the billfold.

  “High hopes?” she asked.

  He winked with his good eye. “I may have overestimated my stamina, but I wanted to err on the side of caution.”

  She quickly tore open one of the foil packets and rolled the condom over him with ease.

  “Like riding a bike,” she said. “You never forget.”

  He stifled a laugh and watched as she wriggled out of her pants, and there she was—bare and beautiful and his.

  “I love you,” he said again, feeling the weight of those words on his tongue. They’d never meant what they meant tonight, and he hoped she could hear that.

  “I love you,” she countered, removing his pants as well. She gingerly lifted his shirt over his head so there was absolutely nothing left in their way. She ran a hand down his torso. “I’ve been dying to kiss every one of those freckles.” She pressed her lips to his chest.

  “Have at it, gorgeous,” he said.

  She did. And then she sank over him like it was the only thing she was ever meant to do.

  “Jeremy,” she said between kisses and shallow breaths. “Jeremy.”

  He’d promised he’d kiss her until she forgot her own name, but the truth was that he could barely remember his own unless it was falling from her lips.

  And then, for the third time that night, he saw stars.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Grace kept it together for the vows, though she couldn’t say the same for Brynn. Even Jamie got choked up as he slid the ring on his new bride’s finger. They were a beautiful couple. Brynn in her strapless ivory trumpet gown, her curls cascading down her back. Jamie was dashing
in his tux as well, but Grace’s eyes kept traveling to the line of groomsmen, to the one with the shiner and a stitched-up cheek—the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

  “You may now kiss the bride.” The officiant spoke the familiar line, the one that said the ceremony was over and that it was time to party, and the whole ballroom of guests erupted into applause as Jamie dipped his bride and kissed her like they were filming the final scene in an epically romantic movie.

  Grace’s heart swelled, and a rogue tear escaped down her cheek. Happy tears were definitely welcome today.

  Jamie and Brynn started down the aisle, hand in hand and never taking their eyes off each other. The wedding party followed— Holly and Annie with their groomsmen, Will and Wes never taking their eyes off their fiancées, a few couples she hadn’t met yet, and finally, Jeremy with Brynn’s cousin, Julie. He winked at her as they passed, and Grace’s cheeks burned with heat even as a shiver ran through her.

  She made her way through the crowd of people entering the cocktail reception area. Already a huge line had formed to congratulate the bride and groom while another throng of people crowded the bar. Grace scanned the room but couldn’t find him. And then she yelped as strong arms slid around her waist from behind.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Jeremy whispered in her ear, his chin resting on her bare shoulder.

  She grabbed his hands that rested on her stomach and wrapped them tighter around her torso as she tilted her head back to kiss him.

  “Is it possible to miss you when I’ve been in the same room with you this entire time?” he asked.

  She spun in his arms to face him, aware that they were in public, and stepped back so as not to give the wedding guests too much of a show.

  “Totally possible,” she said.

  “Good. Because as much as I’m happy for my friends, it was fucking brutal to be so far away from you.” He kissed her cheek, then snuck down and pressed his lips to her neck.

  She let out a soft moan. “I think we’re making up for three months of no touching.”

  Jeremy stepped back and took in the room before his eyes met hers again. He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the reception area and toward the hotel elevator.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, practically jogging to keep up with him.

  He waited until the elevator door opened and they were alone inside before he spoke.

  “I was never one for cocktails,” he said, pulling her to him as he backed up against the elevator wall. “And we do have an hour before the reception officially starts.” He kissed her neck again, more deliberately this time, and she sucked in a sharp breath. “I thought I might show you our room.”

  She pressed her pelvis against his, answer enough for what he was proposing. He groaned through gritted teeth.

  “I think it was easier staying away before, knowing I couldn’t touch you,” she said.

  His hand traveled beneath her handkerchief dress, the hem hitting just above her knee. She didn’t stop him as his hand slid up her thigh, and his breath caught in his throat.

  “Fucking hell, Grace. Commando?”

  His thumb pressed against her clit, and she rocked into his touch.

  “I thought you didn’t want me to wear underwear again. Ever,” she said, losing her composure with each word she uttered, with each circle he made against her swollen center.

  He swallowed. “I know, but I didn’t think— I mean, I wasn’t expecting…”

  She laughed, realizing she’d rendered him speechless, and the elevator dinged as it came to a stop.

  He dropped his hand from beneath the skirt of her dress and laced his fingers through hers. The door opened.

  “Last night was amazing,” she said as they started to walk down the hall. “It was important that the first time we did it right, that we made love. Because I’ve never had it all before—the sex, the commitment, the trust. I love you, Jeremy. So much. But do you remember what I said that night on the phone?” She worried her bottom lip. “The night I said I wanted it to be you?”

  She’d never spoken like that to a man, and she realized now it all had to do with that love and trust she’d found with Jeremy.

  He stopped midway down the hall and cupped her cheeks in his hands. She watched as mischief danced in his beautiful blue eyes. “Grace Bailey, are you asking me to fuck you?”

  She sucked in a ragged breath and then nodded. “Please.”

  He kissed her hard and then scooped her into his arms. In seconds they were tumbling through a door and toward the bed. He threw her down on her back and thrust her dress up past her hips.

  He dropped to his knees, and she barely had time to register what he was about to do before his tongue thrust inside her, and she cried out in complete and utter euphoric bliss. She clawed at the duvet as he continued, unrelenting in what seemed like a quest to make her come quicker than she ever had before.

  She’d managed to turn off her need enough in the past six months that she hadn’t gone crazy. But now that she could touch him—that he could touch her—it was like she’d been woken after years of being asleep. It was more than that, though. She knew that no matter how they spun it, every touch between them—the gentlest of kisses or this, their bodies reacting to each other with primal need—was wrapped in complete and utter trust.

  And love.

  His finger slid inside her as his tongue circled her clit, and she bucked against him.

  “Jeremy,” she gasped his name. “Please.”

  And because they spoke the same language, he stood, finger still inside her as he used his free hand to drop his pants. Then he reached into his tuxedo jacket pocket and pulled out a string of seven condoms—what was left after last night. He tore one free from the rest with his teeth and then dropped the packet on her stomach.

  Grace ripped it open and sheathed him in seconds, and then he slid his hand away from her and sheathed himself inside her. He hissed in a breath as she wrapped her legs around him, and he sank as deep as he could go.

  She kissed him, tasting herself on his lips and tongue, and then savoring pure Jeremy. The man she loved.

  Their bodies spoke a silent language only they could understand, and Grace grinned against him at the thought that she could have ever been afraid of this—that they would fit, that they could be anything but undeniably right.

  “I’m hiding all your underwear the next time I’m in your apartment,” he said, and she laughed as he buried himself deeper.

  “We’ve still got six more condoms to use tonight, and you’re already thinking about going home?”

  He rose above her, his eyes burning with need. Then he shoved her dress over her naked breasts, pinching a hardened peak between his fingers.

  “Do we have to go to the reception?” he asked, and all she could do was nod as she bucked against him. “Then I better finish you off so we can make a strategic plan of how and where we’re going to use the final six later tonight.”

  She wanted to laugh again, but Jeremy meant business. He let her nipple go from his fingers and covered her breast with his mouth instead. His hand traveled to where he entered her, and he circled her clit, his thumb pressing against her in slick, deliberate strokes.

  She cried out as wave after wave of the climax hit her, and then she was a puddle of her former self on the hotel bed. He shuddered inside her only seconds later and then collapsed next to her on the bed.

  “I think,” she said between breaths, “that I really love this wedding.” She laughed.

  Jeremy propped himself up on his elbow and cupped her cheek in his palm.

  “Just wait until ours,” he said, and then silenced her with a kiss.

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  Jeremy filled Grace’s glass from the pitcher of Jamie’s famous beermosa—the brewer’s take on the typical brunch beverage—but she had already been sucked in to the oohing and ahhing over the wedding photos.

  “Look!” Brynn cried. “H
ere’s your girlfriend catching the bouquet!” She spun the album toward Jeremy so he could see the photo, Grace’s nervousness and delight all wrapped up into one gorgeous smile.

  He rolled his eyes, playing his assigned role. “You practically handed it to her,” he said.

  Jamie laughed. “Right after you told me you were going to make sure Grace left with your damned bouquet.”

  Brynn backhanded Jamie on the shoulder while Grace blushed and let her eyes fall back to the book again.

  Jeremy grinned. He was supposed to give Brynn a hard time for trying to marry them off so soon. But the joke was on them. He wasn’t just talking about sex when he’d mentioned their future wedding the night of Jamie and Brynn’s. But he was being patient for Grace—waiting for her to get established in her shop. After all, too many major life changes brought on unneeded stress.

  Moving into a new apartment? Check. His lease ended two weeks before hers. Now they were in a new place that was theirs. New career move? Check, check. He was now co-owner of Kingston Ale House, and her new place opened tomorrow. The whole marriage thing would have to wait. It was okay. He was a patient man; he’d hang on to the ring for as long as she needed.

  “Okay, my turn!” Annie said, stealing the album from Grace. “Bride-to-be here, looking for pointers and pitfalls.”

  “Hey!” Holly said. She and Will were back for the weekend. “We’re first. I should be looking for pointers and pitfalls before you,” she teased.

  Will pushed his chair back from the table and stood.

  “How about some snooker, lads, while we let the bride and brides-to-be have a row about who’s next?”

  Jamie and Wes were standing before Will finished the question, pint glasses in hand.

  “Wife,” Jamie said, bending to kiss Brynn on the top of her head. “I’ll leave you ladies to it.”

  She tilted her head up to kiss him back. “Husband,” she responded, and Jeremy couldn’t help but be moved by the joy in his friends’ voices. “Have fun with the boys.”

  “Jeremy?” Will added.

  He smiled but didn’t stand to join them.