"You seem kind of nervous." She peers at me. "I'm wondering why."
Me? Nervous?
We've been over this, but it bears repeating: I don't get nervous. Anxiety is for incapable chumps. When the world's at your fingertips, there's no room--no reason--for worry. Just because I'm about to ask Kate the most important question of our lives, just because I'm going to practically put my balls in her hands--giving her the power to crush them with a single word . . . Christ, that hurts to even think about.
Just because I've planned this day down to the finest detail, waited for it, frigging prayed about it, doesn't mean I'm nervous.
The ring feels like a lead weight in my back pocket. I've wanted to give it to her a dozen times--but I've held out. Because this will be the grandest of all gestures, the kind of romantic fantasy that plays out in those terrible mommy porn books my sister reads, but that you rarely see in real life. After this, there's no way Kate will say no.
Except . . . she still fucking could.
And that's the rub. The risk.
It's infinitesimally small, but it's there. She might not be ready. She may think I'm not ready. She might think things between us are fantastic--and she'd be right--so why change anything? She might say, "If it's not broke, don't screw with it."
My stomach twists and turns at all the thoughts. I swallow hard and grip the steering wheel tighter, with suddenly slick palms.
Okay, I'm nervous. There, I fucking said it. Happy now?
But I do a good job of covering it as I answer her. "Work has me tense. If you'd like to relieve my tension," I glance at my crotch meaningfully, "I'm more than willing to pull over. Or--even more fun--keep driving while you do what you do so well."
She chuckles. "No, don't want any possible delays--or you crashing into a tree. I want to see my surprise."
The second the car comes to a stop, Kate climbs out, stands between the open door and the car, hand on the roof, transfixed by the scene in the grassy valley below. Five huge hot-air balloons--each more colorful than the next. It's an impressive sight. Vibrant, like a bowl full of candy from Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.
"No way!" Kate squeals. "This is the surprise? I've never been on a hot-air balloon ride!"
"I know."
Giving Kate new, memorable experiences has kind of become a fetish for me. The joy in her voice, the sparkle in her eyes, the astoundingly physical way she expresses her gratitude--it's a rush. Like an adrenaline junkie searching for the next cliff to dive off of--I'm always looking for another fix.
My smile mirrors Kate's expression and her exuberance withers the nervous tentacles that wind their way into my brain. I take her hand and together we walk down the lush hill to the boarding platform, toward Mark Jonas.
Mark is the owner of Tri-State Ballooning, a company that offers hot-air balloon rides and courses in ballooning certification. After my fifty-five hours of training, Mark and I are well acquainted.
Kate stares up at the massive air-filled bulbs while I shake Mark's hand. "How ya doing, Drew?" he says.
"Good to see you, Mark." I gesture to my dark-haired temptress. "This is Kate."
Kate tears her eyes away from the balloons and shakes Mark's offered hand. "Nice to meet you."
"Good to meet you, Kate. Drew's talked so much about you, I feel like I know you already."
Kate's eyes narrow with confusion, until I gesture toward one of the baskets and ask Mark, "She all set to go?"
He nods. "She is. And the other arrangements are ready, too." With a wink he wishes me good luck.
I smack Mark's shoulder and slip him a fifty-dollar tip. I open the wicker-basket door and step aboard. Then I hold out my hand to Kate.
Her mouth is slightly ajar. "You're going to fly this?"
With a smirk I explain. "You know how much I adore your body--and my own, for that matter. Do you honestly think I'd trust anyone else to make sure we don't splatter all over the Hudson Valley?"
Mark passes Kate a folded jacket with his company logo. "In case it gets chilly up there."
She accepts the jacket with a chuckle and steps into the basket with me. "Okay, then. Is there anything you can't do, Drew?"
"No." I tell her in all seriousness. "There isn't."
I peck her lips and do a safety check of the controls. Five minutes later, I give Mark the thumbs-up. He and a few of his employees untie the weighted ropes that keep the balloon anchored. The burner comes to life with a noisy whoosh as I open the propane valve, and a bright orange-blue flame surges into the envelope.
Then, gracefully, we float up into the sky.
Biting her lip, Kate looks over the edge, watching our growing distance from the earth.
"We're flying, Drew! We're actually flying!" Her dark eyes glitter, like a kid getting her first glimpse of Disneyland.
"Yeah, we are, baby." Pride swells in my chest as I soak up every expression that dances across her face: exhilaration, excitement, awe. But there's no fear--no hesitation or doubt.
Kate knows I'm capable of a lot of things--putting her in any kind of danger would never be one of them.
The sun is low, casting the autumn-hued trees and hills with a magical, golden glow, and it's surprisingly peaceful at ten thousand feet.
"It's breathtaking, Drew," Kate sighs. "The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Smiling, my eyes don't leave her face. "I couldn't agree more."
Like she can read my mind--and by this point in our relationship, that's frighteningly possible--she turns to me, beaming. As I adjust the propane controls, Kate wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head against my back. Her breasts push against me in the most delicious fucking way. Supple and sexy.
"Are you cold?" I ask.
"Nope." I feel her press a kiss between my shoulder blades. "Thank you. This is . . . beyond amazing--even for you."
I want to turn around and kiss her for all I'm worth. Strike that, I want to hoist her legs up around my hips, lift her very convenient dress and fuck her into oblivion.
Cuddling midair would be awesome. Screwing midair would be so much more awesome.
But . . . making sure we don't crash and die takes precedence.
Unfortunately.
Kate is wrapped around me, oohing and ahhing at the stunning spectacle. An hour later, we arrive at our destination--a lavish field of green. After a few bumps, we set down gently, and I turn off the balloon's burner. Mark's employees grasp the basket and tie it down.
"Thanks, fellas," I call, as I help Kate step onto solid earth.
"Wow." Kate shakes her head as we walk up the hill. "How are you ever going to top that?"
I chuckle huskily. "I can think of a few ways." I pull her by the hand onto a dirt path that leads into the forest. "The day's not over yet."
Her voice is high-pitched when she asks, "There's more?"
"Shit, yeah."
I've arranged for a limo to pick us up in a few hours, not too far from our next stop. Then we'll spend the night at a "quaint" bed-and-breakfast. At least, my sister said it's quaint--though I don't understand the B and B attraction. It's weird--staying in a stranger's house, sharing a bathroom with people I don't know from a frigging hole in the wall. But . . . I figured Kate would enjoy it, and this night is all about her.
After walking through the woods for five minutes, she presses, "Where are we going? Is this like a Little Red Riding Hood, Well-Hung Big Bad Wolf kind of thing?"
Kate and I have been experimenting with role-play lately. You have got to try it.
I put my arm around her, grinning. "No, but we'll add that to the list. You in a slutty Red Riding Hood costume would be fucking hot."
The last leg of the trail is all uphill. Kate's breathing is heavy as we step out of the woods into a clearing that overlooks a swath of vibrant swells and valleys. It's a kaleidoscope of greens, browns, oranges and reds--almost as stunning as the views from the balloon basket.
"We're here," I announce.
She stops in her tracks and gasps. Laid out just a few feet away is a thick cashmere blanket, illuminated by flickering LED candelabras at the four corners. A bottle of champagne chills in a silver ice bucket; there are two place settings with delicate china, crystal flutes and gleaming silverware; and gourmet sandwiches and chocolate-covered strawberries are hidden in a large antique picnic basket. Surrounding the display are stone planters, which overflow with fragrant white gardenias.
"Oh my . . ." Kate is literally speechless.
I mentally pat my own fucking back.
We stand hand in hand next to the blanket. The candlelight glows in Kate's eyes as she looks over the spread. "I'm so lucky," she whispers, in a voice heavy with gratitude.
I turn her toward me. "I won't argue with that, but which good fortune are you thinking about specifically?"
Her hands slide up over my shoulders, encircling my neck. Her head tilts delicately as she regards me, total devotion on her face. "Do you remember The Notebook?"
With a chuckle, I nod.
"If that were to happen to me--if for some reason I forgot everything else . . . I would still remember you. How it feels to be loved by you. I'm the luckiest woman in the world, because I'm the only one who gets to say 'Drew Evans is in love with me.'"
I cup her jaw, holding her precious face in both hands. "You're the only one who ever will."
Before I can utter another word, Kate rises on her toes and kisses me. Unhurriedly, she worships my mouth with her own, conveying her veneration with every deliberate brush of her tongue.
And . . . and I just can't fucking wait anymore. With my lips against hers, the words bubble up from my chest. A rough, eager plea.
"Marry me, Kate."
For a second, she doesn't move. I feel her breath against my chin as she digests the words. Slowly, she leans back to look into my eyes, her face blank--staring--as if she's not sure she heard what she thinks she just heard.
"What?" she asks softly.
"I . . . I had this whole speech, all the reasons we should get married. But the only reason that matters is--I love you. You're the only woman I've ever loved--the only one I want to--for the rest of our lives."
Holding her gaze, I sink down on one bended knee and take the ring box from my pocket. "We already have a life together, but I want to make it official. I want to grow old next to you, I want to know you'll be there to smack my hand when I'm a dirty old man and try to cop a feel."
The corners of her mouth arch up into a smile.
"If you're the luckiest woman in the world because I love you," I continue, "then I'd be the most blessed son of a bitch in the universe if I get to be your husband."
I open the box, revealing the impeccable two-carat princess-cut diamond, encased in an elegant platinum band. I was tempted to go bigger--flashier--but this is Kate. It had to be something she'd love--a ring she'd gaze at adoringly on her hand. Beautiful, simple, flawless--like her.
Kate's eyes dance between the ring and my face. She doesn't cry, and I'm relieved. I want her laughter, her moans, her gasps--not her tears. Instead, she smiles, and it's like the sunrise, when those first soft shades of light peek out from the horizon--new and stunning and full of possibilities.
"I thought you'd never ask." Her breath hitches. And she whispers, "Yes."
The effect of those three tiny letters is immediate and extraordinary. Warmth rushes through my veins. I exhale a lungful of air I didn't realize I was holding.
Fucking yes.
I mean, of course she said yes. Never doubted it.
I take the ring from the box, and slip it on her slender finger. Perfect fit. Bending her head, Kate seeks out my lips and I'm more than happy to give them to her. Our tongues stroke each other, gentle but sincere, like a vow. Kate falls to her knees, and my fingers caress the soft wisps of hair at the base of her neck. I angle my mouth and encase her bottom lip in my own, sucking gently. She moans and pulls me against her.
I skim my fingers up the smooth skin of her outer thighs, where her dress ends. Grasping the material, I lift it up over her head in one sure move. Leaving her only in a red lace bra and matching panties--a thong.
Nice.
I grasp her hips, dragging her closer. A groan of satisfaction rumbles from my throat when I cup the supple flesh of her perfect ass in both palms. That gorgeous ass--my favorite part. I hold her steady as I grind against her, making my already needy cock harder.
While we're still lip-locked, Kate's deft fingers unbutton my shirt, impatiently yanking it down my arms. I shrug out of the offending garment, and make quick work of the clasps on her bra. I sigh when those pale globes tumble from the confines of their red lace. Cupping the heavy flesh with both hands, I duck my head to take one already peaked, tight nipple into my mouth. Kate's hands burrow through my hair, tugging and clasping. I suck at the tasty little nub, squeezing it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth with barely restrained pressure.
We fall back on the blanket, a tangle of moans and writhing limbs. Kate's nails scour the muscles of my bare back, and I know she's feeling just as wild as I am.
With my heartbeat drumming in my ears, I rear back and jerk the scrap of pantie fabric down her hips--tossing the thong over my shoulder. Luscious, rapid pants escape Kate's lips as my tongue travels up her inner thigh. I hook her knee over my shoulder, spreading her open, savoring the view of her hot, pink flesh in the light of the setting sun.
I hover over her, just close enough to caress her with my breath. "Fuck, Kate, the things I want to do to you . . ."
Her round, dark eyes drift over my face--filled with love and need. Docile and demanding.
"I'm yours, Drew," she tells me in a low voice. "You can do anything . . . everything."
Does she even know what she's offering? How badly I want to own her--fucking claim her--out here in the open? How desperately I want to hear her voice, soaked with pleasure, screaming my name until it echoes off the hills?
Anything?
Oh the possibilities.
Feeling Kate's eyes on mine--watching her watch me--I slide down till I'm face level with that sweet juncture between her thighs. A groan of gratification rumbles from my chest when my open mouth envelops her delectable pussy. I spear her slick folds with my tongue and revel in her taste--the feel of her against my tongue. Kate arches her back and swivels her hips, urging me on--seeking wet, firm friction. I love her roughly with my mouth, sucking, nipping, and laving--scratching the tender skin of her thighs with the stubble of my chin.
When her legs are trembling and her words become a jumbled chant of need, I rise, grasp her hips, and flip her over. She goes oh so willingly, bracing herself on hands and knees. Gripping her shoulder, I plunge inside, grunting and grinding, skimming my other hand down her back, over the swell of her ass, across her stomach, then back up again. My pelvis crashes against her ass, jerking her forward. Until she pushes back against me, welcoming every hard thrust.
It's unbridled fucking. Passion at its most raw.
I'm all senses, pure sensation--the wet, gripping muscles of her pussy, her smooth skin under my palm, her silky hair wrapped around my fingers, her keening whimpers, the scent of sweat and sex, the feel of her hand on my thigh, pushing for more. Faster. Deeper.
I pull her up harshly, her back against my chest, still fully buried inside. My teeth scrape her ear, her neck. Kate moans low and loud. My hand slides down between her legs, rubbing her clit until she quivers.
I'm possessed with the animalistic need to mark her. My lips latch on to the fragile skin where her shoulder and neck meet. I suck until she screams--on the razor-edge of pleasure and pain. Then I move my mouth upward and do it again. Leaving a trail of brands.
Because she's mine.
The thought makes me harder and I surge forward again, needing to feel her come around me, all my focus centered on where I'm enveloped. But it's the brush of Kate's lips against my hand that pulls me back, that slows the shallow plunge of my cock.
She kisses each fingertip tenderly, then begs, "I want to see you, Drew."
I untangle my hand from her hair, and Kate turns on her knees, facing me. Without a word, I sit back on my ass and she straddles my waist, her small hands resting on my shoulders. She looks down, gyrates until we're lined up, and I grind my jaw with pleasure as she slowly sinks down on my dick.
Our hard breaths mingle, face-to-face, and I'm caught in her eyes. Drowning in the depths of those dark pools--with no thought of looking anywhere else. My hands grasp her slender hips, helping her rise and fall. And it's even more powerful, more fucking intense than our desperate vigorous movements just minutes before.
I gather Kate closer, her breasts brush my chest, her forehead rests against mine, and with a strangled cry she comes. The feel of her contracting, tight and hot, sends me straight over the edge with her. My hips surge upward one final time, and our bodies go stiff, racked with helpless, pulsating ecstasy.
Breathlessly, Kate rubs her nose against mine and I kiss her with languid ease. I lay back on the blanket and she squirms on top of me until her head rests comfortably on my chest, her legs surrounding mine. For a few minutes, neither of us speaks. We just enjoy the satiated looseness of our limbs and the slight breeze on our heated skin.
Then Kate lifts her head and rests her hand on my jaw. "Remember that night, when you asked me to move in with you? You made me dinner at your apartment and we danced?"
Jesus, as if I could forget. The desperation, the resolve to convince Kate her heart was safe with me, the amazing sensation of holding her again after what felt like fucking forever, and the perfect elation when she agreed to give us a shot.
"I remember."
Kate squeezes my hand. "And you told me you wanted to make all my dreams come true?"
I run my finger across her cheek. "Yeah."
She stares at the glittering ring on her finger with a contented smile. "You just did."
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Brent's story in
APPEALED
The third book in New York Times bestselling author Emma Chase's sexy Legal Briefs series
Coming Fall 2015 from Gallery Books!
I look across the yard at the crowd of chattering, monochromatic people. All of them so eager to clone each other, to not be labeled as too flashy or ostentatious. It's a sea of beige--tan slacks, taupe summer dresses, and one pair of light brown Ray-Ban sunglasses after another.