Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
I stare up at her, throat tight. “Veronica Lewis, I’ve loved you since the first moment we met, and I’ll love you until my dying breath. Will you marry me?”
She actually sways a little, and I grab her hand to keep her upright. Her fingers are trembling so badly that I have to clamp down to keep her from floating away. For a heartbeat, she doesn’t say a thing.
Then she covers her mouth with her other hand and laughs a wild, beautiful sound like she’s about to cry. “Yes,” she chokes out. Then louder. “Yes!” She’s laughing and crying at the same time now, and I’m so relieved I nearly lose consciousness. “I love you, too.”
I slide the ring onto her finger while my hand shakes so bad, I’m shocked I don’t drop the motherfucker. The diamond catches the light.
She just stares at it, mouth open, then at me. I haul her straight into my lap and kiss her senseless. Her lips are wet and salty from happy tears, but I lick them right off her lips. She melts into me, wrapping her soft arms around my neck.
Life couldn’t get any better than this.
Or so I fucking think. But then Roni does that thing where she bites her lip and her cheeks turn pink, and I know she’s nervous about something.
She lets out a deep breath and grabs my hand, squeezing it so tight I almost forget how to breathe.
“I have a surprise too,” she whispers, voice all shaky and adorable.
Before I can ask, she pulls my hand down, pressing it gently against her soft belly. For a second, I have no idea what’s going on. Then my brain clicks into gear.
Fucking hell.
Happiness flows through me as I stare at her, at my hand on her stomach, at the hope and nerves shining in her eyes. My heart fucking explodes. I can barely talk.
“Are you…?” My voice goes all gravelly, and I almost choke.
She nods, tears in her eyes.
Holy shit. My girl is carrying my baby. I’m one lucky motherfucker. I murmur, “I love you,” and nuzzle my nose along her soft skin, breathing her in.
She flashes her wicked little smile that promises trouble. “Why don’t you show me how much?”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice. My pulse kicks up; all I can think about is giving her everything she wants and more.
EPILOGUE
RONI
Two months later, and I’m hosting my first big event as Midnight Mischief’s Events Executive. My stomach clenches a little and I attempt to swallow down the nausea bubbling up my throat. God. I hope the baby takes it easy on me tonight. So far, my morning sickness has been confined to mornings, afternoons, evenings, and all night long. Pretty much twenty-four hours a day. With this big event happening, I had a long talk with the little tadpole and explained how important tonight is. We agreed the little one would give me one night without sending me rushing to the bathroom. So far, so good.
I look up from the iPad and nearly drop the damn thing. Nathan is leaning against the wall, watching me like a hawk. He’s got his arms folded, biceps straining against the sleeves of his expensive suit, and he’s wearing the look that always causes my insides to melt.
His eyes track me everywhere as I try to act cool and keep moving down the guest list. Every time I look up, he’s still there. Watching. Smirking. Like he’s thinking about stripping me naked right here on the dance floor and claiming me on top of the ice sculpture.
Holy crap. The nausea disappears as my body goes all hot and fizzy, and I try to focus on the freaking centerpiece logistics, but all I can think about is Nathan’s eyes burning holes in me from across the room. Oh, man. Pregnancy hormones are no joke.
I try to focus on the party, I really do. I keep scrolling through my color-coded checklists, but it’s basically impossible. My brain is too busy melting down from the way Nathan is staring at me. Possessive. Hungry. Like I’m his next meal.
Every time I glance up, he’s still there, arms folded, jaw locked, watching me like he wants to drag me off and do filthy things to me in the coat closet.
I squeeze my thighs together and try to look busy, but it doesn’t help.
My phone buzzes in my palm. I look down, expecting a work text. Instead, it’s Nate. My husband, the caveman, is texting me from thirty feet away.
Caveman
You look amazing tonight.
Me
Thank you
Caveman
You’ll look even better sprawled naked across my bed
Freaking hell. I’m going to spend the rest of the night all hot and bothered, anticipating what’s coming later.
Me
I can’t wait
Caveman
Why don’t we cut out now and get to it?
Me
Stop trying to distract me. I have a job to do.