The Virgin Replay by Lauren Blakely
Sierra
Always wear pretty panties if a man calls late at night.
Sounds like a good rule.
I’m wearing basic pink cotton underthings and a cami because I’m not expecting anyone.
Fear prickles down my spine, but I act quickly.
I grab the baseball bat I keep under my bed, snag my phone from the nightstand, and swing my legs out from under the sheets.
Just as I’m poised to dial 911, because who the fuck knocks at this hour, my phone beeps with a call.
“Oh!”
It’s Chance.
I answer with a whisper. “Hello?”
“It’s me. At your door. I’m a day early. Will you let me in?”
He’s supposed to be in New York. But he’s here. A thrill rushes through me. He’s here!
“Yes, of course,” I say, keeping the phone pressed to my ear as I walk to the door, peer through the peephole, and nearly fly through the roof with excitement.
What is happening to me?
I’ve prided myself on being cool and collected. On being a badass babe. And I am positively giddy at the sight of the man who wants to divorce me.
But maybe he doesn’t want to end us?
“Hi. I’ll let you in,” I say.
He smiles like a loon. A loon I love. “Thanks. I’ll be right here,” he teases.
I end the call, unlock the door, and yank it open.
“Hey,” he says, soft and tender, then his brow knits as he points at the bat in my hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You holding a baseball bat is insanely sexy, but do you want to put it down?”
I didn’t realize I was still clutching it. I set it against the wall and open the door wider. “Come in,” I say, and though I have no idea why he’s here, I have a feeling that a visit after midnight is a good thing.
I shut the door, and he steps inside, determination in his deep brown eyes as he meets my gaze. “I love you, Sierra Blackwood. And the only thing I want to take care of is finding a way to stay together.”
My breath catches.
I can’t believe what he said.
It’s exactly what I feel.
I step closer, cup his cheeks. “I love you too,” I tell him, holding his face, my voice trembling.
When did I become such an emotional gal?
Oh, right. Maybe when I learned to embrace happiness as it comes. Something I’m learning literally this second.
“You do?” he asks, laughing incredulously, but joyfully too.
“I do,” I say, giddy like my veins are filled with starlight and my heart contains the whole entire sky. “I started to fall for you in Hawaii, and I went head over heels in love in Vegas. And I want to date you. I want to stay with you. I want to be impulsive with you, and to be in love with you.”
His lips twitch in a delicious smile, then he brings me close for a kiss I feel in my toes. I zing everywhere.
When he breaks the kiss, he nibbles on the corner of his lips, then says, “Let’s be impulsive.”
Then, he drops to one knee.
I gasp.
He reaches into his pocket, takes out a jewelry box, and flips it open.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, awed. Utterly awed.
The diamond is an enchanting emerald-cut I never imagined he’d give me tonight.
Chance meets my gaze, vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “How about a replay on the Mr. and Mrs.? I want to be with you, and that means asking for your hand properly. I’m in love with you, and maybe it seems like it happened in five days, and maybe it did,” he says, emotion threaded through every word. “But I think it’s been happening for the last year, every time we saw each other. At least, that’s how it’s been for me, almost like we were dating without knowing we were dating. And I don’t want a halfway relationship with you,” he adds, his voice strong. “I want it all, and I truly hope you do too.”
I can’t help it.
This non-crier cries again. Tears well and fall as I kneel in front of him, clasping his handsome face. “I want to be with you. It’s the same for me, Chance. I’ve been falling in love with you for the last year too, just getting to know you. And I want to keep loving you.”
“I do love you. So much,” he whispers, then hauls me in for another kiss before he laughs, a little embarrassed.
“What is it?”
“I need to put this ring on you, and then I can get lost in kissing you,” he says, and I hold out my hand.
He slides it on.
And wow.
Just wow.
I’m engaged to be married to my husband, and that sounds crazy, but it feels totally right and absolutely wonderful.
“I love it,” I say, staring at the thing of beauty, then dipping my head, hiding my face. “And that makes my gift look pretty silly.”
“You got me a gift?” He sounds utterly delighted.
“I did.” I rise and head to the kitchen. He joins me and I reach for a tiny plant. “It’s a zebra cactus for your plant collection. I texted you because I wanted to see you when you returned tomorrow and tell you I love you and give you a plant.”
I hand him the little green thing.
He coos at it. “Awww. I love it. Can I call it Sierra?”
Scrunching my brow, I shake my head. “No way. How about we name it . . . Jordy?”
Chance cracks up. “I suppose he did sort of play a part in us getting together. And this plant is not silly. It’s awesome. And I love it. And I love you.”
This is all too wonderful, but I’m dying to know something. “What happened? What changed for you? I thought your code and the team and my brother and all that was the issue.”
“It was, but then it wasn’t.” He sets the plant on the counter, his expression turning serious. “I realized that I’d been wrong. I thought your brother was the obstacle. But I was the problem. I was afraid of getting hurt, and I used the code as an excuse.”
“Don’t be afraid with me,” I say gently. “I won’t hurt you. After all, I told TJ I won’t break your heart, and I meant it.”
“I won’t break yours, Sierra. And I told your brother as much today, as well, when I talked to him. But now I’m telling you.”
There’s something else I need to tell him too, though. “I was worried about relationships and time and balancing it all, but I already love dating you because it’s not hard to make time for you. Like we talked about on the flight to Hawaii—it’s quality, not quantity. I truly believe that,” I say. “And everything is quality with you.”
“Everything is the best with us.”
His eyes flood with emotions—the same ones I feel, I suspect, as he grabs my hand and tugs me close, my breasts flush with his chest. My fiancé sighs happily then runs his fingers through my hair. “Missed you,” he murmurs, then dusts his lips over mine.
“Missed you too,” I whisper against his lips, as my cat rubs against my leg.
I laugh, separating. “Tom is in a lovey mood today,” I say, my gaze sailing to my black and white beast.
“It’s going around.” Chance bends down to scratch Tom’s chin, and I fall a little more for the man.
When Chance stands, he wiggles a brow, then scoops me into his arms. “And now I’d like to make love to my fiancée,” he says.
Heat flares through me. “So impulsive of you.”
In a minute, we’re in my room, stripped down to nothing, and the man I’m engaged—engaged!—to puts on a condom and slides into me. I gasp, pleasure flowing through every cell.
“Mmm. You feel incredible,” he murmurs as he sinks in all the way, filling me to the hilt. I lift my knees toward my chest, giving him permission to take me the way I want him to.
The way he wants to.
“Have me,” I urge.
And he does, fucking me hard and deep, with so much passion that I’m racing toward the edge in mere minutes, bliss and lust twisting beautifully inside me.
He’s rough at the same time that he’s tender, and it’s everything I ever wanted sex to be and so much more.
It’s with the man I love.
Who also happens to be my husband, and now, my fiancé.
Life can be funny like that, if you just give in to happiness.
* * *
Later, as we curl up under the covers, Tom tucks his paws under his chest, a serene look on his furry face.
