Her eyebrows shoot up. “Here? Tonight?”
“It’s one of the most exclusive restaurants in Manhattan. It’s known for being a popular proposal spot. Seemed like the perfect venue.”
“I know that, but I guess I thought …” Her slender throat thickens as she swallows.
I frown. Surely she’s not having doubts now. “Thought what?”
She shrugs. “I dunno. It’s a little cliché, is all. I figured you’d be more inventive.”
“Well, maybe I would be if this was a real …” Hurt flashes in her eyes, and I decide not to finish that sentence, and not only because some piece-of-shit paparazzi could be close enough to read my lips.
With a nod, she sits back in her chair, her demeanor prickly in a way it wasn’t a few moments ago. “You’re right. This is the perfect venue.”
“If you’d rather …”
Her features soften on a faint smile. “Ignore me. I’m holding on to schoolgirl fantasies of a dream proposal. Here is great.”
I press my lips together and resist the urge to ask her about that schoolgirl fantasy. It doesn’t matter. I’m not her fantasy, and I never will be.
No time like the present. I fish for the ring inside my pocket and drop to one knee beside her. She gasps and puts a hand to her chest, playing her part to perfection. I’m vaguely aware of the restaurant coming to a standstill around us, and the vibrant hum of chatter fades to a few whispered voices. Keeping my gaze trained on hers, I take hold of her left hand and open the box, revealing the four-carat diamond ring. It sparkles, reflecting light from the chandeliers above our heads,
“Oh, Nathan,” she whispers. “It’s beautiful.” Her glistening eyes flicker between the ring and my face. She’s either an incredible actress or she really likes the ring.
“Melanie Edison, will you marry me?” I can barely believe the words come from my mouth, and I hold my breath, seemingly along with everyone around us given the quiet that’s now settled over the entire restaurant.
“Yes. Yes!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me close.
Applause erupts, and I press my lips to her ear. “They’re all still watching. I think we should probably kiss or something.”
“Put the ring on me first,” she whispers back.
I slide the ring onto her finger and notice the way her eyes shine with what appears to be genuine delight as she inspects her hand. There’s another round of applause and a few cheers. Then her eyes are fixed on mine, her hands are on my face, and everything else ceases to exist.
I kiss her, not because I’m supposed to, but because I can’t wait another second to press my lips against the plump bow of hers. Can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to slide my tongue into her mouth and taste her. And the second I do, I regret it. She tastes like wine and sweetness, of all the things I shouldn’t want. She tastes like she’s mine.
Her mouth is warm and inviting, and when I flick my tongue against hers, the sexy little moan she gives makes my dick stiffen. I tangle my fingers in the back of her hair and tilt her head to the angle I want, the perfect angle to tongue-fuck her right here at this table.
“Congratulations, sir. I hope you and your lovely fiancée enjoy an eternity of happiness together.” The restaurant owner’s voice has me pulling back, leaving her breathless and looking like she wants more. My eyes remain locked on hers while I thank Javier for his kind words and the complimentary bottle of champagne I hear him order for our table.
“I feel like everyone’s staring,” Mel says with a breathy laugh, her cheeks pink and her red lips swollen from my bruising kiss.
One glance around the room confirms her suspicions, and the moment suddenly seems too intimate to share with the world. It shouldn’t feel that way. This is business, nothing more. I chose this place because I knew it would be crowded, and I wanted strangers’ recording and snapping this moment with their cell phones. I wanted photographers to be waiting outside for us when we left.
By midnight, news of our engagement will be splashed all over social media, and the trashy news sites and gossip columns will be throwing out wild theories about our courtship. That’s all precisely what I wanted. I don’t understand why it feels so wrong now. Why do I wish I could take her away from all the lights and noise and fakery and finish up that incredible kiss with nobody’s eyes on us? With no sound in my ears except my heartbeat and her soft moans.
“Nathan.” She giggles, breaking the spell she has me under. “As much as I enjoy the sight of you on your knees for me, are you going to sit back down?”
I stand, but before I take a seat, I clasp her hand in mine. Dipping my head, I brush my lips against her ear. “Don’t get used to it, Mel. You’ll be the one on your knees for me before too long.”
Her breath catches in her throat, and when I take my seat opposite her, her eyes sparkle with mischief, her cheeks now as red as her lips. The image of her naked and on her knees with her mouth open while she waits for my cock sends white-hot pleasure searing down my spine.
“Your champagne, Mr. James,” the waiter interrupts us, and I force the image of me coming down my fiancée’s pretty throat out of my mind.
Chapter
Fourteen
MELANIE
Nathan drapes his dinner jacket over my shoulders as we walk to the car, and I pull it tighter, enjoying the way his residual body heat warms me. The fabric smells of his cologne, woody and masculine, and being blanketed in his scent heats me up for an entirely different reason.
A guy steps in front of us, holding an expensive-looking camera in his hands. “May I get a picture of the happy couple?” he asks, his eyes wide and hopeful.
“Sure.” Nathan slips his arm around my waist and pulls me into him. I lean my head on his shoulder and smile for the camera, playing up the part. There were half a dozen photographers waiting as soon as we left the restaurant, and I used the same pose for them. Although it’s not all an act. I am happy. There are worse men I could have been asked to marry than the sexy-as-hell billionaire who, despite his ice-cold exterior, is warm when it matters.
And that kiss. Wow! If he’s that good at kissing, I can’t help but wonder how good he is at other mouth-related activities. Because at some point we’ll need to have sex, and experience has taught me that good kissers are generally good at all the other stuff too. Of course, I could be completely wrong.
“Thanks. And congratulations,” the photographer says, pulling me out of my thoughts of hot sex with my even hotter soon-to-be husband.
Nathan murmurs something to the photographer and hurries us along to the waiting car.
As soon as Teddy pulls the car away from the curb, I let out a deep breath. This is the first time I’ve been able to think clearly since the whirlwind of the proposal.
I turn to face Nathan, who appears as cool and calm as usual. “That was some night. Were you always planning to propose? You could have given me a little more warning, dude.”
He shifts in his seat, angling his body toward mine. “Would you have been anxious all day thinking about it?”
“Probably,” I admit.
