“Damn right she will.”
Blake tightened his hold on Farrah’s hips and plunged into her, covering her mouth with his and swallowing her cry of surprise and pleasure. Perspiration slicked their bodies, and he hoped to God Kris had soundproof walls; otherwise, every A-list celebrity in Hollywood was getting an audio experience they hadn’t signed up for.
Not that he cared. All Blake cared about was the woman in his arms.
Five years, two continents, multiple heartbreaks.
They’d been through some shit, but there was not a doubt in his mind that this was where they belonged.
Together.
He slammed into Farrah, his fingers digging into her thighs as he willed himself not to come.
Not yet.
Sweat beaded his forehead, and his breath rushed out in short, heavy pants.
Farrah tightened around him and screamed, a breathless wail of pleasure that crashed over him like a wave of molten lava, setting every nerve ending on fire until he couldn’t take it anymore.
Blake’s orgasm exploded through his body as he drove into her one last time, its fury so raw, so powerful he would’ve collapsed had Farrah’s limbs not locked around his torso. Bright lights speckled his vision, and aftershocks rippled through him until he regained control of his senses.
Once he did, he heard Kris fuming through the library doors. “I’m going to kill them. This was not what I meant when I said privacy. Now I have to hire a crew to disinfect the entire room.”
Blake and Farrah looked at each other and burst into laughter.
“Oops. I think Kris is mad at us.” Farrah’s eyes gleamed with amusement and unabashed shamelessness.
“It was worth it.”
“A hundred percent,” she agreed. Hair tousled, mouth swollen, skin slick with sweat. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and he couldn’t believe she was his.
Finally.
Completely.
“I love you, Farrah Lin.”
Her eyes turned liquid. “I love you too, Blake Ryan.”
Their lips met again in a kiss, long and sweet and lingering, and Blake knew, after a lifetime of running, he was finally home.
Chapter Forty-One
Six months later
“No one killed each other, which is good.” Farrah loaded the plates into the dishwasher while Blake wiped down the dining table. “It’s actually kind of scary how well our moms get along.”
“Which is why they had to leave. I can’t have them ganging up on me.” Blake pitched his voice higher to imitate their moms. “Blake, are you treating Farrah right? Blake, this meatloaf is a little dry. Blake, why is Farrah the only person who gets a signature drink named after her?”
The Farrah, an orange blossom vodka martini with a splash of vanilla extract, debuted in Legends New York two months ago and was a massive hit.
Not to be egotistical or anything, but it was the only drink Farrah ordered when she visited the bar.
She giggled. “I mean, they’re valid questions.” She squealed as Blake swept her up from the ground and tossed her over his shoulder. “What are you doing? Put me down!”
“This is what you get for taking their side.” Blake threw her on the couch and straddled her, his powerful arms and thighs caging her in. His steel-hard erection dug into her stomach, and she was so wet she could feel her drenched panties sticking to her.
“You’re the one who invited them for dinner,” Farrah pointed out breathlessly.