Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“I’ll show you,” I said, heading up the stairs toward my bedroom with her hand in mine. I let her go at the doorway, walking over to the nightstand on what was now her side of the bed. I opened the little drawer she’d claimed as hers the first night we slept here, and pulled out the ring she’d dropped inside. “This,” I said, showing her the emerald engagement ring I’d given her the first day of the retreat.
She furrowed her brow, stepping further into the room. “I thought wearing it out would be in poor taste,” she said, eying the ring. “Since it’s not really mine.”
I shook my head, stepping closer to her.
“This is yours,” I said, then dropped to one knee, my heart in my throat. “It was never an act. Not for me. I bought this ring and could only see it on your left-hand ring-finger.” I held it up to her, but she covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide. “I’ve loved you for longer than I even knew, Luna,” I said, swallowing hard. “I love your mind, your body, your soul. I love the way you’re a perfectionist yet chaotically creative. I love your heart and your dreams. I love the way you make me feel, which is important and needed and loved. I know this is fast, I know everything has been like a firestorm with us lately, but I don’t want to spend another day of my life where you aren’t officially mine.” I took a deep breath, reaching up and taking her left hand away from her mouth. “Will you marry me?”
I held the ring poised on the proper finger, waiting anxiously for her answer.
“Yes,” she said, tears in her eyes. I slid the ring on, and she dropped to her knees, throwing her arms around me. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
My heart took off like a gunshot, and I held her against me, kissing the hell out of her sweet mouth. I pulled back as we both caught our breath, and I took her left hand, raising it to my lips. “Promise me something,” I said, kissing the back of her hand.
“Anything,” she breathed the word.
“Don’t ever take this off again,” I said.
“What if I do?” she fired back, eyes dancing with challenge.
Oh, my girl wanted to play, did she? Fuck yes.
“You know what happens when you’re my bad girl,” I said, my dick already standing at attention in my pants.
She bit her bottom lip, eying the ring like she might take it off just to see. “And if I’m your good girl?” she asked, her lips inching closer to mine.
“Let me show you,” I said, lightning streaking through my veins as I scooped her up and carried her to the bed.
Something I’d now have the honor of doing every night for the rest of our forever.
Epilogue
THREE WEEKS EARLIER
ZOE
I swear this club was pumping something through the air vents tonight. Some sort of concoction that loosened my muscles and excited my nerves.
Or it could be the mask I wore that hid my face, allowing me to be absolutely anyone other than the strictly professional Dr. Zoe Casson for the night.
Or it could be the dress that hugged my body in all the right ways, making me feel like an emboldened goddess rather than a mind-my-manners therapist.
Music thrummed and pulsed throughout the room, and half the dance floor was covered with my friends and their friends, most of them being Carolina Reapers. It was refreshing to see a bunch of burly, alpha hockey players masked up and letting loose, and they certainly weren’t hard to look at either, but most were attached and the others already had interested parties vying for their attention, not that I was looking. I know I’d joked with Luna about pretending to be someone else tonight, but I had rules. And the first one was no one-night-stands, no matter how badly I was aching for a release. I valued structure and emotional intimacy, but something about tonight felt different. Maybe I really could be someone else.
After a few dances, I wandered toward the crowded bar in need of hydration. “Water please!” I called to the bartender once I had his attention, having had to wiggle my way in between masked bodies in order to claim a sliver of the bar.
The bartender nodded, walking toward the fridge in the back to grab me a bottle.
“You don’t have to yell,” a male voice said, practically right in my ear. “If you want my attention, just say so.”
I turned, fully prepared to roll my eyes at the guy, but stopped short when my eyes met a whole lot of muscled chest instead of a face. I had to look up and up in order to see him. His face was entirely covered with a silver mask, with slits carved into it so he could see, the holes covered by some black mesh so I couldn’t even make out the color of his eyes. It was intimidating as hell, but equally intriguing.