He’s always been that way . . .
“But we are together every day now,” I told him.
He furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes a fraction. “It’s not enough, Brynne. Not after what happened tonight and that f**ked-up message from God knows whom. I have Neil working on your mobile trace right now and we’ll get to the bottom of it, but I need something more formal that tells the world you are off limits and untouchable by whatever designs they might have on you.”
I swallowed hard, feeling his thumbs start to move over my jaw as I tried to imagine where he was going with this. “What do you mean when you say ‘formal’? How formal are we talking?” Man, my voice was thready, and my heart felt like it would leap out of my chest the next moment.
He smiled at me and leaned in for a soft, slow kiss that calmed me some. Ethan had always calmed me, though. If I was unsettled or scared, he had a way of comforting me and easing the stress of the moment. “Ethan?” I asked when he finally pulled back.
“It’s okay, baby,” he said soothingly, “everything will be all right and I’ll take care of you, but I know what we need to do—what needs to happen.”
“You do?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He rolled us over and held my face again, propped on his elbows and trapping me beneath his sculpted limbs, hard and smooth against my softer parts. “I’m sure of it, in fact.” His lips dropped to my neck and kissed up to my ear and then down my jaw, over my throat, and back to the other ear. “Very, very sure,” he whispered between gentle kisses. “I realized it tonight as soon as we got here and I saw that you were wearing this.” He kissed the spot where the amethyst pendant he’d given me lay in the hollow of my throat.
“What are you so sure about?” My voice was faint, but every word rang out clear as a bell in the short distance between us, as if I’d shouted my question.
“Do you trust me, Brynne?”
“Yes.”
“And you love me?”
“Yes, of course. You know that I do.”
He smiled down at me again. “Then it’s settled.”
“What is settled?” I implored against his gorgeous face, which had mesmerized me from the first, one side of his beautiful mouth turned up confidently, holding me firmly beneath him in a possessive hold so typical of my Ethan.
“We’ll get married.”
I stared at him, sure the words that just came out of his mouth were out of a scene from a romance novel. Maybe I was having a dream. I hoped.
Ethan shifted on top of me and shot that idea to hell. Holy f**king shit!
“It makes perfect sense,” he said with a slow grin, “we make an announcement that goes out big, have you move in with me officially, and let everyone know your fiancé is in the security business—”
“Are you insane?” I cut him off and saw his eyes moving over my face, studying my reaction to his words. “Ethan, I can’t get married. I don’t want to. I’m just getting used to being in a relationship. It’s way, way too soon to even consider something like that for us . . .”
He grinned down at me, utterly calm and confident. “I know, baby. It is far too soon, but the world doesn’t have to know that. To them it looks like you’re about to be the wife of the former-SF, high-profile CEO of Blackstone Inc. To whoever is out there with an agenda, they get a message loud and clear. That they need to keep the hell away from you; that they won’t be able to touch you in any way, shape or form, and that they won’t get close enough to even blink at you, let alone deliver threats like that f**ked-up shit from last night.” He kissed me softly, looking very proud of himself. “It’s a brilliant plan.”
I just kept staring at him, sure he was a figment of some fantastical dream I was having. “It’s also dishonest, Ethan. Have you even considered what you are asking me to do? To lie? To mislead our families and friends into believing some fiction that we met two months ago and now we’re getting married?”
He stiffened above me, and his jaw got that stubborn set to it. “When it comes to protecting you, I’ll do whatever I need to do. I’m not taking the risk with you—it’s too late for that. I told you I was all in, and that’s not changed in the last hours.”
His glaring expression was more than a little intimidating, even in the dim light. I tried to explain myself. “Well, no, my feelings haven’t changed either, but that doesn’t mean we can . . .”
My words trailed off as I tried to process what he’d just so confidently declared—that getting married would be a good idea—just like eating more vegetables or wearing sunscreen was a good idea. I had to wonder if the stomach bug that had got to me tonight was making me hallucinate.
“There’s no reason we can’t.” Ethan looked a little wounded as he studied me carefully, and it gave me a pang of regret, but only for about two seconds. What he was proposing was absolutely insane. I could barely wrap my head around being in love with a man who’d stormed his way into my life, audaciously and without apology, a mere two months ago. How in the hell could I agree to a marriage based on my protection from some mysterious threat of unknown motivations by unnamed people?
“I—I’m—you’re absolutely out-of-your-mind crazy right now! Ethan, do you realize what you are proposing here?”
He nodded at me, his face just inches from mine. I couldn’t really tell what he was thinking right now either. He wanted his way, I could guess, but his motives were what surprised me more. I knew he loved me. He made sure to tell me often. And I know my feelings for him were the same . . . but . . . marriage?! I was sure he couldn’t have suggested anything more of a shock to my fragile emotional grid than this. Surely Ethan didn’t want a wife. This was way too soon.
“Yes, Brynne, I very much know what I just said to you.” He kept his face neutral but firm, giving away nothing.
“You want to marry me, a woman you just met eight weeks ago, who has relationship phobias and—and a f**ked-up past—”