by Jess Bentley
“Oh, yes, yes,” I sigh, grinding against his mouth. My hands find the back of his head and I push my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to me. My thighs close over his shoulders as my body writhes against him, pushing me over the edge until I climax in a sudden shudder of joy.
“Delicious,” he sighs, wiping his mouth of the back of his hand as he pulls my skirt back down modestly over my thighs. I gasp for breath, trembling.
“Here, drink this,” he suggests softly, handing me a cool glass of water. I bring it to my lips and drink gratefully, feeling the temperature seep through my body like an autumn mist.
I feel him tugging gently on my hand. “I hate to tell you this, darling, but we need to be going,” he reminds me gently.
“Oh, right… the charity auction."
I try to gather my wits again, piecing it together through the fog that's entered my brain. Stubbornly, I push myself to my feet and stand there, wobbly and rickety as an old sailboat.
“You look perfect,” he sighs.
“No, I should shower? Change?”
“Don’t you dare,” he says with a wink.
The auction is in Arlington, a beautiful colonial town with a lot of politicians and celebrities. As we drive, I open my window to drink in the fragrant night air. He cherry blossoms are in bloom again, and the scent is notably intense tonight.
“Any new business?” he asks.
“Three calls today… would you like to go on a cruise?”
He sucks his teeth. “Well… are you telling me that you would like to go on a cruise, Dahlia?”
“Oh, I think I just might,” I admit. “Private yacht in the Mediterranean. Just for a week or so. Can we?”
“Hm. If you’re really excited, then I suppose we can.”
“I am very… very excited,” I assure him.
As he navigates the BMW through the cool evening air, I marvel at how everything is different. Just about six short months ago I was living with my father, struggling to keep my entry-level job, lonely and aimless.
Now I'm free to have as much ambition as I want. Free to explore the things I'm good at. August has been encouraging me to re-enroll at the University, to finish my degree in criminal justice. I feel like I can do that.
But first, I want to go to Malta. I want to go to Greece and his Pakistan. I'd like to see if the water really does flow the opposite direction and Australia if possible. August has opened up whole new world to me, one that only existed in YouTube videos before. People I followed on Instagram. I didn't know people really have this kind of life.
I finally get my wits back about me by the time we get to the valet. August opens my door and I climb out, taking his hand as we enter the event. We stroll the perimeter, observing before taking our seats. This is not actually security detail, it's simply an opportunity to network. But still, reconnaissance is always wise.
The atrium is arranged with dozens of tables with items on them, displayed artfully on velvet pedestals. Each one has a number, and the intention is to try to “buy” the item of your choice by bidding on that number. I find an antique-looking pendant in a small box, next to a small framed painting of a landscape. Halfway through the landscape, there's a small girl. I can barely make her out. She's wearing a bright pink dress, and I think she's blowing on a dandelion, wishing the seeds away.
“You see something you like?” August asks me, kissing the back of my neck lightly.
“This, I think,” I say, running my finger over the ridged frame of the small painting. “There's something about it…”
My voice chokes up at the end, and I swallow hard.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts.
“Excuse me, that is so weird. Sorry. It's just a pretty painting, is all.”
I glance up at him and shrug apologetically. I'm not sure why some little painting would make me feel like crying but…
Wait.
August writes down the number and takes my hand, pulling me gently toward the bidding table. He puts a note down on the corresponding sheet for the painting and smiles at me graciously. I'm distracted, counting backward mentally. Then I count again.
“Oh, they gave us a nice table,” he remarks. “Cabernet?”
“No… maybe a soda water,” I answer, shaking my head.
“Everything okay?” he asks me, his eyes full of concern. I lean forward in my chair, pressing my fingers lightly on his knee.
“August… I think I might be pregnant.”
His mouth is open. “Pregnant? Are you sure?”
I shake my head. “No… Of course I can’t be sure. I'll have to take a test. But… gotta be three weeks late. We have just been so busy, I wasn't even paying attention. But it's got to be at least three weeks.”
I am so distracted, mentally calculating over and over again, I barely notice it when he takes my hands in his, draws me closer to him. He strokes my cheeks with his hands, kissing my upper lip, then my lower lip, sighing deeply.
“Dahlia! That's so amazing!”
“But we have to go to Malta!” I object. It sounds silly when I say it, but still. “I mean… Greece is right there? Italy?”
“We can go anywhere you want,” he says quickly. His voice is urgent and sincere.
“But, Malta… it's a cruise?” My voice trails off.
“There's time for that, Dahlia. All the time in the world,” he smiles. As I watch him, he smiles broader, his cheeks creasing, his eyes dancing.
“But school? Your new app… I mean we are so busy. What if we get into the —”
“Marry me.”
My breath chokes my throat.
“What?”
“Oh, what am I thinking,” he blurts out, distracted. He looks around at the other people in the room, though I'm not sure what he's looking for.
Then he stands up abruptly and dashes to the other side of the room. He moves quickly from table to table, quickly investigating each of the auction items. Other guests have started to watch him as he darts toward the bidding table and scribbles on the paper. He talks to the official, bending his head forward and then shaking his hand.
Just as suddenly, he strides back across the room to where I sit. He pushes his chair to the side to make room and drops to his knees in front of me. Taking both my hands in his, he looks up into my face.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Dahlia Cox, I'm asking you to marry me.”
“But —”
He squeezes my hands, and I stop talking immediately.
“Dahlia, I don't know where I was before you. I can't remember a time before there was you. You changed my life, and I didn't even know it. I didn't even understand. You brought me back to life, Dahlia.”
“Oh," I say.
He smiles, the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.
“And so I want you — I need you — to be my wife. Let me care for you forever. Let me raise this baby with you, and all the babies we will have after.”
“Oh, August…” I breathe, suddenly dizzy.
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s so... I mean…”
“Tell me,” he growls. My body shivers in response. That voice. That low, sexy, commanding voice. “Tell me, Dahlia.”
“I will,” I say in a small voice.
“Tell me again.”
I make him wait. His hands grip mine, caging my small fists inside his larger palms. I let the sound of his voice echo through me, hearing it over and over and over again.
Finally, when I can't stand it anymore, I give my answer.
“I will. I will marry you, August Berner.”
I hadn't even noticed people are watching us. All I could see was him. Now as he stands up, everyone breaks into applause, circling us and smiling, congratulating him. Men reach out and shake his hand, but he will not let me go. His hand is covering mine, holding me gently, keeping me close to him.
I never realized exactly how lost I was until he found me. And now everything
will be different. I feel utterly complete.
Thank you for reading! If you want to read Bunny’s story, check out the new standalone novel, Five Men and a Nanny!
About the Author
Jess Bentley is a contemporary romance author who adores writing about adventurous young women — and the hot sexy men who love them. She spends her days reading and writing, tending to her flower garden and growing vegetables, as well as playing the guitar.
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