Page 319 of Manhattan Bossholes

I sniffed, trying to hold it together.

“I know my track record isn’t great, but I promise to be someone you can count on. I can learn to trust the future as long as I know that my future has you in it.”

When my thoughts caught up, I had a moment of clarity. We’d only known each other a few months, had hooked up and broken up, and now he was down on one knee? We hadn’t even had make-up sex yet. “Isn’t this all moving awfully fast?”

“It is,” he agreed. “And we can be engaged for as long as you want. I won’t rush you down the aisle. But what I want to give you is my commitment. If you take me back, I need you to know that I’m all in. Permanently. You’re never going to be left hanging, worrying about a safety net, ever again.”

My jaw trembled, and a few tears slipped down my cheek. “It’s a beautiful ring.”

Trent grinned at me, and that was beautiful too. “It was Nana Dee’s. She gave it to me years ago and said that she hoped I’d use it when I found the love of my life.”

“Oh, Trent,” I said softly.

“She said she hoped it would bring me as much happiness as she found in her marriage. I put it away because I never thought I’d find anyone who fit the bill—but then I found you. You’re it for me, Natasha. Period. End of the story. So if any part of you wants to share a complicated, messy, amazing life with me, I’ll wait as long as it takes for the rest of you to feel ready.”

“Go on then,” I said, hardly holding back tears. “Ask me properly.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “Really.”

The corner of Trent’s mouth curled up a bit higher. “I love you, Natasha Dryer. More than anything. Will you marry me?”

Trent was already on his feet, sweeping me into his arms as I cried, “Yes!”

30

NATASHA

We stumbled through the door of my apartment, locked at the lips, and I could already tell this was about to be some damn good apology, missed-you-like-crazy, just got engaged sex. My pulse was still racing after the proposal, after hearing him say those words: I love you. And I loved him too—my grumpy, secretly sweet, dangerously sexy fiancé.

I tugged on his sweater, trying to drag him toward the bed. The chill I’d felt in my workshop had disappeared the moment he’d kissed me, flooding my body with needy heat. And what I needed was to be horizontal. Now.

Trent laughed, kicking the door closed behind us. It rattled a bit. “Someone’s in a hurry.”

“Because I’m about to blow your socks off,” I said.

“Probably works better if you aim for the pants,” he teased. I rolled my eyes and he snorted, pulling me close. I slipped my fingers beneath his sweater, feeling his muscles twitch. “Cold hands,” he said.

“Not for long.” I chased the warmth of his skin around to his back, shuddering slightly as Trent’s hands slid over my shoulders and down along my spine, squeezing my ass through my jeans. I could feel his cock hardening between us.

He dropped his lips to mine again, kissing me so deeply I felt lightheaded. When he slid his tongue between my lips, I groaned into his mouth.

“Nice place,” he said, breaking the kiss.

“You’ve barely looked around.”

“Cause I’ve got the most breathtaking thing right in front of me.”

My heart lurched at his words. I threaded my fingers through his and pulled. This time there was no resistance, and Trent followed me toward the bed, helping me wriggle out of my shirt. He slid his hand down the front of my pants before I could get them off, pressing against the ache that throbbed there.

I moaned, grinding against his hand, desperate for him to unravel me.

“Yes, my little Hellcat,” he whispered.

God! I’d missed him calling me that. His fingers danced through the wetness he found, his eyebrow arching in approval. Truth was, I’d been ready for him the moment he’d walked into my workshop.

“Think someone promised to blow my socks off,” he said.