Page 68 of Meet Cute the Virgin

She’s always been like this. Resilient. Passionate. Taking what she wants without apology. It hits me like a physical blow. I don’t deserve her, but I’m lucky as hell she chose me.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” I say, and it sounds inadequate.

She smiles, wicked and warm. “I know.”

I don’t make it to a bed. I can’t. My Lily is everywhere, her hands under my shirt and her mouth on my neck, and I lift her onto the chaise, shoving the book and blanket to the floor. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me between her thighs, and I feel her heat even through the layers still separating us.

“Need you,” I growl against her mouth. “Need you now.”

“Then take me.” She arches, offering her throat, and I bite down where her pulse flutters, marking her. It’s barbaric, but I need to see my mark on her perfect skin. It soothes something deep inside of me.

I strip her desperately. Her shirt is tangled around her arms, her bra shoved up, and her pants dragged down just enough. I don’t have patience for slow, for careful, or for anything but the heat of her surrounding me, and Lily loves to be fucked. She wants to feel it even when it’s over, and I’m more than happy to oblige my greedy girl. How can I not when that greed is over me?

I push inside her, and we both groan. She’s tight and wet and perfect, and I have to stop, forehead pressed to hers, breathing hard against the urge to pound into her until neither of us remembers our names. I don’t want to come too soon. I want to savor this.

“Move,” she demands, nails digging into my back. “Tristan, move,” she orders.

So much for trying to hold back. I let go and give my girl what she asked for. There’s no way I can or ever will deny her. I set a brutal pace, the chaise creaking beneath us as she meets every thrust, wild and demanding, her heels against my thighs. Shecomes apart fast, clenching around me, crying out my name like a prayer or a curse, likely both, and I follow her over the edge, burying my face in her neck, breathing her in, anchoring myself to her. Thanking my lucky stars that this is my reality. That she is mine now and forever.

Afterward, when we’re tangled and breathing hard on the too-small chaise, she traces patterns on my chest. “I meant it,” she whispers. “What I said. I love you. I always have.”

I catch her hand and press a kiss to her palm. “I know. I love you too. I’ve never—” I stop, the words catching. “I’ve never had this. Never thought I could.”

“Now you do.” She curls closer, fitting herself against me despite the awkward angle. “We do.”

I hold her until she falls asleep, then longer, watching the shadows shift across the ceiling, planning my next move to keep her safe.

The queen is coming, and I’ll do a whole lot more than chop off her fucking head.

Chapter Thirty

LILY

Tristan has been hovering over me for days. It’s adorable, but a girl has to use the bathroom still and talk shit with her best friend, so when he got yanked to his computer, I was more than okay with it. He’s been in there a few hours now.

He’s working with Julian, something that requires “operational security” and a lot of scowling. I don’t understand half the shit on his computer screen. Okay, like ninety-five percent. I’ve learned not to ask unless I want a power nap. I’ll get condensed details later. Instead, I’m in the kitchen with Teddy and Roland, watching him bake. It smells of cinnamon and what I’d guess innocent childhood would be if it had a smell, too.

“The secret is browning the butter first,” Roland says, stirring with precise, economical movements. “Most people skip this step.” This man can do everything. I don’t even understand why you have to brown it. I like my butter straight up.

“Most people are cowards,” Teddy agrees, stealing a chocolate chip.

The tablet on the kitchen island buzzes, making Roland’s graying eyebrows rise. He always has the thing with him. It runs this house, like his trusty sidekick. I hope he doesn’t have to leave before our treats are done.

He wipes his hands and moves to retrieve it with the unhurried grace of a man who has never once panicked in his life.

“There’s a Ms. Sasha Chen at the gate,” the security voice says. “Says she needs to speak with Mr. Vanderbilt urgently. There is a family emergency.”

I freeze. Sasha. What the hell is she doing here? Teddy and I share a look.

“Let her in,” I say before I can think better of it.

Teddy gets a mischievous smirk. “Yeah, let her in?—”

“She’s his family friend. His assistant. Whatever.” I’m already moving toward the front of the house, Teddy and Roland trailing behind. “If something’s wrong, we should know.”

We reach the foyer, pulling open the doors as she arrives from the front gate. She’s in a cream coat and heels, perfect as always, her face arranged in careful concern, but I can see it in her eyes; she’s pissed that I’m here with Tristan.

“Oh, thank God,” she starts. “Lily, I was so worried. When Tristan stopped returning my calls, I thought?—”