Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,205

away to kiss down my neck, I at least feel a little better. This is normal. The heat of his tongue. The scrape of his teeth. The way his fingers dig into my hips, hitching me up against his growing hardness.

I trail my hand down his arm, brushing the Devil’s mark he tattooed there a year ago. It’s placed in the same spot as the scar on my forearm—a pale, jagged reminder that for better or worse, people like us survive.

So long as we have each other.

“Is there something you want?” he asks, reaching down to sweep a palm up the outside of my thigh.

I squirm against him, chest swelling with anticipation. “Only if you want to give it.”

His movements stutter for a moment, voice tinged with confusion when he answers, “Always.” His fingers play at the edge of my panties, tracing the scalloped edge of the lace as he pushes his nose into my neck, inhaling my scent. “Fuck, you smell good.” He punctuates this by wrenching me from the counter, causing my breath to hitch. I love it when he gets like this; all worked up, tossing me around, putting me where he wants me.

Right now, he puts me right in front of him, pressed up against the counter, his lips red and already swollen. His blue eyes search mine, and although I don’t know what he’s looking for, I’m guessing he finds it. “Fuck it.”

He drops to his knees and my eyes slide closed, waiting. For a man who was so apprehensive to eat me out, he’s become an old pro now. I tremble in anticipation of the heat of his hands dragging down my panties, the warmth of his mouth exploring me. When it doesn’t come, I look down.

He's not on his knees.

He’s on one knee, a tiny blue box perched in his hands.

I stare down at the box, brain a confusing tangle of want and bewilderment. The blue of the box matches his eyes. That’s the only thought I’m capable of.

“I was going to do this over dinner, but obviously that’s going to suck, so here it goes,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically filled with nerves. “Little Red, we’ve been through a lot of shit together. Some of it’s been good. Some of it’s been bad. A lot of it’s been really, unbelievably erotic.” I take in a stunned inhale and his mouth twitches. “I’ve waited, Georgia, and I’ve tried to show you I’m good enough. I don’t know if it’s worked, because deep down, I’m pretty sure I’m not.” Before I can argue, he rushes on, “I know your family still hates me. I can’t buy you jewels and treat you like a princess, although I know you well enough to realize you’d hate that, anyway.”

“Heston—”

“What I’m trying to say is that I know you, and I love you. You’re it for me.” He opens the box, and the diamond ring nestled in the center of it makes my hands fly to my mouth. “Will you marry me?”

I look from him to the ring, eyes jumping back and forth, and then it’s all just a blur of tears, because I’m an idiot.

I’m an ass.

There’s a long pause before Heston skeptically guesses, “The crying is a good thing, right?”

“I checked the account,” I confess, wiping my cheeks. “I checked it and saw all that money missing, and I was so worried that—”

Realization crosses his face. “You thought I was gambling it.”

“I’m sorry!” I drop to my knees, taking his face in my hands. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just got in the habit because you asked me to. Remember? And then I wasn’t sure how to ask without...”

Without accusing him of something unfairly.

“Hey,” he says, mouth pressing into a tight line as his arms wind around me, gathering me to his chest. “It’s okay, I get it. It didn’t even cross my mind. That’s how long it’s been since…” He trails off and I know he’s referencing that day a year and a half ago, when he almost had a relapse moment. He sighs into my hair, clutching me close. Quieter, he says, “I still check on you, don’t I?”

Nodding, I remember all the times he’s explored my body, hiding it with kisses and lingering touches, even though I know he’s checking for marks. Keeping me honest. Making sure I’m okay.

Jerking back, I fumble for the box, getting a better look at the ring. It’s silver and delicate. Modest. Perfect.

“I know it’s