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I lean against Brontë’s headboard, her body half on mine after a few hours of makeup sex. After the first round in the living room, I brought her back to the bedroom where I spent time kissing every inch of her before making passionate love to her a few times.
“Oh.” She winces as she stretches against me.
“Are you sore?”
She nods. “In the most delicious way.”
“I suppose we should talk about when we’re going to go face your father?”
She sits up, pulling the sheet against her body as she leans against the headboard next to me.
“Tomorrow?”
“Better get it over with.”
“What are we going to say?” She looks at me with concern on her face.
“I’m going to tell him the same thing I told him earlier tonight, which is that I love you and I want you to be my wife.”
She sits up, her eyes big and round. “You told him you want to marry me?”
I tuck her hair behind her ear. “I did. Does that scare you?”
“No,” she says calmly and confidently. “I want you to be my husband.”
“I like the sound of that.” I smile lazily at her. “I think we should celebrate this little revelation.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“Well, I would love nothing more than to have you swing this delicious thigh over my body and straddle my face so I can bury my face in your pussy.”
She blushes and giggles, biting her bottom lip as she gets a devious look on her face.
“I will, but under one condition, Mr. Archer.” I crook an eyebrow at her. “Beg.”
I laugh and pull her toward me, kissing her.
“Please, soon-to-be Mrs. Archer. Sit this sweet”—I kiss her neck, sliding my hand down her body to slip my finger inside her—“wet”—I kiss her breast—“mouthwatering”—I pump my finger so slowly in and out of her, her eyes growing heavy with need—“pussy on my lips.”
Chapter 23
Brontë
One year later…
“The Nadine Spencer Foundation is dedicated to serving the needs of the community through offering classes on business and finance and continuing education courses to young entrepreneurs. We also provide a wide network of connections and investors as well as dozens of scholarships, grants, and resources to help individuals fulfill their dreams and goals of bringing their business to life and to the market.” I look around at the large group that has gathered on the steps of my foundation, named after my amazing mother. “And to each of you who believed in this journey and donated, I can’t thank you enough for your support and action.”
“I want to thank my father, Jonas Ramsay.” I smile over at him as I give the keynote speech at the opening of my nonprofit. His eyes are filled with tears as he smiles back at me. “For believing in me and my mother’s vision to help our community and give back in any way that we can. You have been so supportive and offered me invaluable advice in this journey. Also, thank you to my stepmom Chantelle and my amazing little brothers Silas and Jenson for being patient with me and allowing me to steal so much of Jonas’ time away from you.”
The crowd laughs and I turn my gaze to Beckham who’s staring back at me in awe.
“And lastly, thank you to my amazing husband, Beckham Archer. I couldn’t have done this without you by my side every step of the way. You’ve been my rock, my compass, my everything since the moment I met you, and I can’t thank you enough for your compassionate and giving soul. You have shown me what it means to be a successful entrepreneur yourself, being raised by a single mother, to then turn around and give back to those around you.”
I take the giant scissors and cut the red ribbon as the crowd claps and cheers. Beckham steps up to my side, taking them from me and leaning in to kiss my cheek.
“You were amazing, baby,” he whispers, letting his hand come to rest on my six-months pregnant belly.
Tonight is a black tie event for the opening of the foundation. We’ve been working tirelessly, nonstop for the last year, and it’s been worth every single second.
