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She still hadn’t noticed him staring at her from the doorway, so he looked his fill. All he could do was shake his head at her beauty. That first morning it had struck him so hard and now he felt the very same way.
Matt wanted to step up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, peppering kisses along her bare shoulder. He wanted to sweep her off her feet and carry her to his room, where he would lay her down and show her more pleasure than she could imagine.
He wanted to mark her. To lose himself in her. Matt didn’t know if it was just his heart that was pounding wildly in his chest or if his entire body had started pulsing with the need to be with her.
Except he couldn’t. Not now.
There wasn’t nearly enough time to enjoy her if he did act on his impulses, something he rarely ever did. He wasn’t a man that relished giving up control, not even to powerful urges that squeezed the breath from him.
More than that, he needed tonight’s appearance to go well. What if he did kiss Hannah, if she came willingly into his bed, only to regret it immediately after? That would destroy any chance they had. No risks could be tolerated now. So he took a deep breath and reined in the thundering want coursing through him.
‘Hannah.’ His voice was low.
She spun round at the sound of her name.
‘Are we leaving?’ she asked.
‘In a moment,’ he replied, entering the room.
She nodded and sat in the arm chair, leaning to drag over her gold heeled sandals. Matt walked over and kneeled on the plush carpet, taking the shoes from her. He lifted her foot and slipped one shoe on before buckling it securely.
‘Is that okay?’ He looked up at her and she nodded, her lips pressed tightly together, but he saw her swallow.
Fighting the urge to kiss her instep, then her ankle, he quickly did up the other shoe and returned her foot to the floor. He helped her up as he stood and took a step back, as if any amount of space could stop the combustible heat between them. Trying his best to ignore it, Matt stuck his hand into his pocket, toying with the small box in there.
‘It’s important tonight goes well, Hannah. I need you by my side all night.’
‘In order to convince everyone we’re the perfect family-to-be,’ she said evenly.
He said nothing. Tonight was about so much more than that. It would signal the start of their two-month trial for Hannah to make her decision. Matt was certain he could make sure that she stayed, but he still wanted her to see the family they could be.
‘Yes,’ he replied as he pulled out a square velvet box from his pocket, opened it with a click and removed a ring from within. Grasping her hand, he slid it onto her finger.
‘Now everyone will know we’re engaged.’
‘What? No getting down on one knee? Romance is dead,’ she teased.
The corner of Matt’s lip quirked up slightly. He should have been glad that Hannah was taking this so easily in her stride, with no big explosion of emotions or demands. Logic had driven her, served her well, and Matt was grateful for that. Which was why he couldn’t understand why he was so unhappy.
She had accepted the ring as if it could have been anything—a plastic circle—which was fine because he knew all he really needed was a symbol. Any ring would have done.
She’s engaged to Matt Taylor.
That was all it should mean.
He hadn’t even intended to get it himself. The purchase of it was an errand he could have delegated to his PA or he could have simply ordered the damn thing online. But it hadn’t felt right.
This arrangement might be for appearances and duty, but it was still Hannah’s finger that it would go on. So, Matt had ended up putting a lot more thought into it than he’d originally intended.
He had gone to one of the oldest and finest jewellers in London. Spying just who had entered the store, the jeweller had shown him their most extravagant rings. None of those had appealed to him. None of them had screamed ‘Hannah’.
Until the last one, a rare red diamond that was set in a platinum ring. The stone was like flame. From the moment he’d seen it, it had reminded him so much of her. It had taken him back to a moment when they’d been tangled together in between her sheets, sweaty and relaxed, when he’d played with her hair.
‘Red is my favourite colour,’ she had said.
‘Like your hair.’
‘Like the rarest diamond. It makes me think of fire and passion and danger.’
