She’d made the only decision possible.
She’d fought for what she wanted and she wouldn’t stop now.
*
While Jiya had definitely missed her morning routine with the Prince brothers, it had been forever altered. Sure, there had always been a heaping dose of tension between herself and Andrew, but she couldn’t have sawed this new tension in half with a machete. As soon as she walked in the door, her nipples beaded at the sight of her man at the kitchen sink. No shirt, just a pair of black sweatpants and a royal blue, backwards hat.
Heaven help her, even the cuts and bruises on his face—as much as they enraged her—added an undeniable masculinity to Andrew that made her all too aware of the hem of her dress, where it brushed mid-thigh. She’d woven her hair up into a high bun and her exposed neck felt sensual, erotic. Especially when Andrew turned to hand her the cup of coffee and did a double take at her high beams.
“Sweetheart,” he said in a gravelly voice, setting down the coffees. “Why aren’t you dressed for work?”
“Are you complaining?”
“Fuck no.” His eyes took on a dark edge. “Are you wearing that to go see him—”
“No.” She held his gaze. “I’m wearing it for you.”
Wariness danced into Andrew’s expression, his chest started to heave. “Jiya…”
She filled her lungs. “I broke the engagement last night.”
His body stilled, gaze sharpening. “You…did what?”
“You heard what I said. I can’t marry someone else.” Her chin started to tremble, but she firmed it. “You exist. You exist, so I could never be happy with anyone else. I’d be with you right now, if you weren’t so stubborn.”
He lunged toward her and stopped short. “Hold on, I’m just…God, I want to tell you breaking the engagement was a mistake, but I can’t. I fucking can’t, because you are mine, sweetheart. I can’t be anything but relieved, even if it makes me a selfish bastard.” He paced away and came back. “Jesus. The restaurant, Jiya—”
“I’m gaining so much more with you than I could ever give up,” she whispered.
He reached a hand toward her, curling his fingers into a fist before he could touch her. “Your happiness is what gets me up in the morning. Every day of my life. So I’ll ask you one more time. Are you sure?” He paused, the vibration of his tone lingering in the air between them. “I haven’t really looked for a way out yet with Handler. Not hard enough, anyway. Maybe because…I thought there was so much more than that keeping us apart. What I did. It’s always been there, telling me I can’t have you.”
“You already had me. You’ve had me forever.” Jiya watched her words sink in, watched hope bloom in his face. Her heart sang in response, but she kept her features schooled. “Now that we’ve straightened that out, there are some things I need to do around the house this morning. I know it’s a beach day for you, but—”
“Be quiet, Jiya,” he rasped, coming closer. So much closer. Keeping his hands at his sides, Andrew buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling roughly against her ear. “Christ. Christ, I didn’t deserve you doing that, but I’ve been a walking dead man since I found out. You just brought me back to life.”
Her cheek nuzzled his jaw. “That’s how I felt when I found out you bought my flying lessons.” She smoothed her hands up his chest and listened to him groan. “I knew you’d been full of shit all along.”
“So full of shit, sweetheart.”
“You wanted me. For keeps.”
“Forever. Past forever.”
She bit his ear hard. “I can think of a few ways to torture you for keeping your feelings from me. If you can get the morning off.”
“Torture—” A violent shudder wracked his strong body. “No, we can’t, Jiya. I’m not touching you until I’ve got a clear path forward. Until I can walk it with you. I’m not taking you to bed again until I’m sure I can make you my wife, Jiya. I’m not backing down on that. You’re not some hookup. I have no excuse for what we did in my bed. It was so goddamn perfect, but it was the wrong time.”
“It should have been on our wedding night?”
He growled into her hair. “Yes.”
“Get the morning off. Come find me.” Jiya pulled back and blinked up at him innocently, though she felt anything but. “Maybe I won’t let you touch.”
“Jesus.” Andrew’s breath came out hot against her forehead. “How am I going to make breakfast in this condition. Look what you did to me.”
They both dropped their attention to his erection where it pushed up and out of the waistband of his sweatpants. “I see,” she whispered, moisture slicking between her thighs. “You’re going to leave it hard. That’s how I want it.”