About Last Night

“I want to wake up next to you every morning forever, Cath. Tell me you want that.”

Wound tight and hypersensitive to all the eyes on them, eight of which belonged to his parents and her colleagues, she glared at him. “The last time a man asked me to marry him, I burned his freaking house down, Nev. I’m not ready for this.”

“Just wear it. We can wait as long as you’d like. I want to see my ring on your finger again.”

Her eyes misted over, and she blinked the tears away. “You do?”

“I meant those rings when I bought them, darling. I spent hours trying to find the perfect engagement ring for you, and then I threw the rings in your lap and walked off as if they meant nothing. But they meant everything. I want you to wear my ring.”

Until he said it, she hadn’t understood how badly she’d needed to hear that.

“I’ll wear it,” she said. Then, in case he got the wrong idea, she added, “But I haven’t agreed.”

“All right.”

She held out one trembling hand, and he slid the sapphire onto her finger. He turned over her palm and kissed it. Then, with a tug, he pulled her down onto his raised knee and kissed her mouth, long and lingering, and she tipped her head back and closed her eyes and gave herself over to this man she loved. This man she would marry someday. Eventually.

When the kiss finally ended, seconds or minutes or hours later, dozens of strangers were applauding and wolf-whistling. Cath leaned close to his ear. “Ask me again in a month.”

He smiled. “I’ll ask you again tomorrow, love. And every day after until you say yes.”

They rose, holding hands, and he pulled her back into his embrace. As she smoothed her palms over his shoulder blades, she felt the ring as a foreign presence on her left hand.

She would get used to it. It belonged to her now, as surely as she’d belonged to Nev since that first morning in his flat. The morning after her last mistake.

“Cath?”

“Mmm-hmm?” She rested her head against his chest, dreamy and content in the wake of so much turmoil. So many lonely days without him.

He pitched his voice low enough to prevent being overheard. “Can you stick round for a bit until I can get out of here?”

“Mmm-hmm.” But she didn’t want to. It would be a lot more fun to convince him to duck out early. She slid her hands down to his lower back, bringing his hips into contact with her stomach.

“You’ll come home with me?”

“Mmm-hmm. Wanna know what color my bra is?”

“No,” he said immediately. “I’ll never survive the evening if you tell me.”

“It’s the red one.” He groaned. The red one was his favorite.

“There’s something else,” she said.

“What’s that?” He sounded as though he knew he was stepping into a snake pit, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll wear the cowboy hat to bed.”

His spine stiffened, and so did his cock against her stomach. When she looked up, she laughed, pleased to see the unmistakable desire in his eyes, and the spark of mischief. “You have a thing for cowgirls, City?”

“I have a thing for you, love.”

“I hope your thing is ready for a workout. I missed it.”

Nev crumbled then, his public self giving way to the demands of the man who wanted her more than he wanted to fit in. He scanned the crowd, and he must have seen his father behind her, because he said, rather abruptly, “Dad, we’re leaving.”

Richard might have replied. She couldn’t say, because Nev was already steering her outside with one hand at the small of her back. They reached a car at the curb. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for her.