The Proposal - Kitty Thomas Page 0,8
to take me home, but I can't bring myself to do it after they just heroically rescued me and got all of our dinner to go like it was fast food drive-thru and no big deal.
“Sit,” Griffin says again, when we're standing in his dining room.
I hand the jacket back to Soren and sit awkwardly at the table. I walked into the restaurant tonight feeling sexy and confident and on top of the world. And now I feel like a teenager about to be scolded for sneaking out of the house. They've each got eight years on me and the age difference feels bigger than usual tonight.
The men take the food to the kitchen. When they return, it's on nice plates. Dayne brings in a couple of bottles of wine.
I'm grateful when they fill my glass almost to the top. I need it. My hand is still shaking when I take a sip of the dark red Merlot. The Penne Bolognese is still hot when it's placed in front of me.
“Eat,” Griffin says. I wonder how long they've known about each other... how long they've been planning to turn the tables on me?
Nobody speaks as we eat, which is just fine with me. In fact, by this point I'm starting to think what was said at the restaurant was some hysterical hallucination. Maybe we're really only about to have a standard confrontation and break-up. And after everything else that's transpired tonight, I can almost handle that.
In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize obviously they were just playing a game with me. Maybe the original plan was to con me into bed with all of them, but after what almost happened in the alley we'll probably all have a cordial and mature breakup and that will be that. I can't imagine they'd still try to get me into bed after the almost alley assault.
When we've finished eating, Griffin pours himself another glass of wine, takes a sip, and calmly says to me, “Now, as I was saying back at the restaurant... you will legally marry one of us and the other two...”
“And I said no,” I repeat.
He laughs at this. “It wasn't a request. We've decided—”
“You can't just decide. That's not how this works. I told each of you when we started dating that if someone proposed and I accepted, I would break things off with anyone else I happened to be dating at the time. So if one of you wants to ask me, I may consider the offer.”
Though I'm not even sure if that's true anymore after this sudden Neanderthal act—not that I didn't know all three of these men were used to getting their way and how badly that could go for me if I lost control of this situation—which I clearly have.
“No,” Griffin says as if trying to reason with a small child about the utility of eating vegetables, “We all want you. We're all taking you.”
Again, my body is all in with this. And a part of my mind isn't sure about things. Only this afternoon I was in love with all of them and couldn't imagine how I'd ever be able to break up with the others if one decided to call my bluff and propose. And the only thing cooling my ardor is the way they've behaved tonight, but even that is leaving an unexpected and growing trail of wetness between my legs.
Instead of giving in to any of my more primal and uncivilized urges, I stand because realistically there's only one thing I can do now. “Thank you for dinner and for saving me, but this isn't going to work anymore. We're through. All of us.” I manage not to start crying again as I make eye contact with each of them so they know I mean it.
They let me walk out of the dining room, and I actually think I'm going to get out of the building. But before I reach the door, one of them—I'm not sure which—pushes me so that my breasts are pressed against the wall. A hand grips the back of my neck, holding me in place so I can't turn to see who has me. His other hand runs down my dress, and he shoves it roughly up so he can stroke between my thighs. I'm exposed, and I blush as I realize he can feel my arousal and knows how my body has reacted to their indecent proposal.
I don't even care