Page 153 of Wait for Him

“There's a photographer in the hotel across the way with a long lens aimed at this balcony." She says it casually, because having surveillance positioned before dinner is normal behavior in her world. "I'm going to cross over to you in a moment, straddle your lap and kiss you. You have five seconds to tell me no, and if you do, I'll never raise this discussion again. No hard feelings, no second pitch. But I'll accept your tongue in my mouth as acceptance of my proposal."

Holy shit.

She arranged the camera before dinner. This woman has a fucking implementation plan for marrying me.

I should be horrified.

I am horrified.

Unfortunately, I'm also impressed and hard as fuck.

"Have I made myself clear, Mr. Jackson?"

"Marcus."

What the fuck was that sound? Marcus. Are we volunteering for the Vin Diesel soundalike contest? Fucking idiot.

I lean back in the chair, and her eyes drop once, straight to my lap, before returning to my face.

Caught.

Wonderful.

"Five."

She takes a step toward me.

"Four. Three."

Another step, and suddenly five seconds is not nearly enough time to process any-fucking-thing.

"Two."

Say no.

One syllable.

I say it all day long.

No, that deal doesn't work. No, those numbers are shit. No, Bennet, we're not expensing a goddamn yacht.

Easy word.

I don't say it.

"One."

Rian closes the distance and settles onto my lap, knees on either side of my hips. She pauses there with her face inches from mine and waits.

One last chance.

Her eyes stay on me.

I could still say no.

Her mouth softly grazes mine, but her eyes never break contact.

For the first second, I sit there with my hands hovering near her waist, fully aware that the moment I touch her this becomes real.