The Billionaire's Proposal

There was simply no way not to be overwhelmed by it.

Possibly it was the combination.

It was strong, yet vulnerable. Laying himself bare, while sweeping me away with a feeling of utter helplessness at the same time. He took complete control, but also left room for active participation. The whole thing felt like an invitation. A precursor for even more delightful things yet to come. The whole time, I held my breath.

Hoping it would last another second, another minute.

Another lifetime.

But truth be told, that’s not what kept me awake that night. What kept me awake was a repeating question, as simple as it was utterly outrageous. Alone in my bedroom, without even a house plant to witness, it still somehow managed to make me blush.

If that was how Nick kissed...

I bit my lip.

...how did Nick fuck?

“Unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.”

I actually leapt awake, landing somewhere in the center of the bed—pulling the lilac sheets up around me. I had no idea when, in the last hour and a half, I had actually managed to close my eyes. But at the moment, that was the very least of my problems.

Just a few feet away, Nick himself was perched on the edge of the mattress, holding out a steaming cup of coffee, identical to the one he was holding against his chest.

“What—what are you doing here?!”

I strung all the words together, unable to separate them. Unable to stop the guilty blush that had sprung up the second it seemed as though he was answering my embarrassing sexual question. Guessing at the guilty little speculation that had been running around my brain.

“This bed,” Nick replied, completely ignoring my exclamation in light of what he’d deemed a weightier issue, “this is the most uncomfortable bed I have ever come across. And for the record, I used to sleep with an understudy in Miss Saigon—their standards aren’t very high.”

I stared at him for an incredulous second, before trilling out in a high pitched voice:

“What the hell are you doing in my room?!”

He stared back down at me, completely unconcerned, as the words bounced back and forth within the four tiny walls.

“What am I doing in my girlfriend’s room?” he repeated sarcastically. “In the naughty hours before the sun comes up?”

I held my breath as his lips curled up in a devilish, wicked smile. But as quickly as they did, his entire face washed clean with the sort of wide-eyed innocence you only saw on nuns and other people who had preemptively devoted their entire lives to the convent.

“I’m bringing you coffee, of course.”

He held it out with that same blameless smile—purposely wafting the steam my way in the hopes that I would smell it and start to wake up.

...it worked.

My fingers closed around it, nervously avoiding his, and I pulled myself up to a tentative sitting position—relieved beyond words that I’d fallen asleep that night wearing an actual shirt.

“Um...thank you, I guess.” I took my first halting sip—locking eyes with him all the while. “You know, you didn’t have to break into my place. We could have met somewhere.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he countered without hesitation. His sparkling blue eyes swept me up and down, before that twinkle translated into a smile. “I deserve at least a few perks of this fake relationship, don’t I? Breaking and entering should be one.”

He stressed the word ‘fake’ in a way that told me he didn’t believe it, and smirked at the words ‘breaking and entering’ in a way that told me he had done them many, many times before.

I tried to come up with something to say, but in the end, settled on silently drinking my espresso—wondering why in the world Nicholas Hunter was standing in my apartment.

“So,” I finally managed, giving him a once-over as well whilst I simultaneously tried to determine what time it was, “this is what it’s like to date you, huh? A continuous, seemingly innocuous stream of light felonies?”

“Oh Abby,” his eyes flashed in the early morning dawn, “I’d be happy to show you what it’s like to date me. But no,” his face resolved all at once, “it usually doesn’t lean so much toward the misdemeanors. I simply didn’t have your key.”