Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Oliver scooted off the bed and proceeded to fall flat on his ass before righting himself, hobbling into the walk-in closet. He returned with a velvet ring box the color of Lake Geneva. My breath caught in my throat.
No, no, no. Not right now.
I needed to stop this before it spiraled out of control. To remind him of my shooting schedule and his duties to his brother. But he seemed so broken today that I couldn’t bring myself to contribute to his pain.
“I wanted to get you the biggest, most extravagant, most obnoxious diamond ring in the history of rings. I could, too.” He met me at the edge of the bed, dropping to one knee as he popped open the box. “But I know that isn’t what you want. That you’d hate walking around with a diamond, even ethically sourced.”
I bit my tongue to stop myself from informing him that ethically sourced diamonds didn’t exist.
“So, instead, I scoured every fucking lab in the world for the biggest, most extravagant, most obnoxious lab-grown diamond ring in the history of rings.” A grimace twisted his lips down, holding back a gag. “I still get a little sick thinking about giving you a fake diamond. It’s like walking around in knockoff Jordans. But anything for you, baby.”
I swallowed my panic, burying it beside the toxic mix of amusement, and sadness, and happiness. “That’s not the sustainable diamond making you ill. It’s the booze.”
Stop this madness, Briar. Do it right now.
But how could I? I wanted the proposal, and Oliver, and my career, and Sebastian’s future. Greed, it turned out, is lethal. It will kill your heart before it moves on to new victims.
“I’m completely botching this for-real marriage proposal, aren’t I?” Oliver smacked his own head, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “Wait here.” He stood up, swayed, and grabbed my shoulders for balance. “Just … wait.”
He half-ran, half-lurched into the bathroom, switched the showerhead on, and brushed his teeth for a full ten minutes. Then, he lumbered back to the bed, where he’d left me, clad in a full-blown three-piece suit.
By the time he returned, I’d dented the ring box with how hard I’d clenched it. Ollie didn’t notice, too eager to finish his proposal. He pried it from my fingers, knelt before me again, and grinned from ear-to-ear with childlike glee. He was proud, and beaming, and maybe a little drunk.
“Cuddlebug,” he said as serious as a nuclear threat.
“Hot mess,” I responded.
His wholesome laughter settled inside my belly. “I love you. I am crazy about you. I am never letting you go again. Marry me. For real. I can make you happy. I know I can, because I’m willing to dedicate my entire life to making it happen.” His trembling fingers pinched my chin, tilting it up. “Give me another chance. I won’t blow it.”
Tell him it won’t work.
Tell him that you need to go.
Tell him that we need to end this before the fake wedding spirals out of control and explodes in our faces.
But I couldn’t break his heart. Not on the same day Sebastian had broken it. He’d drowned himself in alcohol, for goodness’ sake.
I clasped his face in my hands and forced a smile onto my lips, hoping this beautiful, perfect, inebriated boy would forget this ever happened by morning. “Ask me again when you’re sober.”
“I am sob—”
“Please,” I choked out.
Before he could protest, I crashed my lips against his. A strangled moan ripped free from the back of my throat. I slid down the mattress onto the hardwood, straddling his knee between my thighs. He hissed, dropping the ring box with a soft thud, one hand clutching my ass tight.
His free hand gripped the back of my neck and guided me down to the floor.
He ground his mammoth erection between my thighs, never breaking our filthy kiss, even as he murmured into it, “How was wedding dress hunting today?”
I could barely conjure a coherent sentence with my hands roaming his body, rushing to strip him of all the clothes he’d just put on.
“Unproductive,” I finally managed, my tongue traveling down his jawline, tracing a straight line to his neck. I needed us to stop talking about a wedding that wouldn’t happen.
He grabbed my ass, arching me off the floor and grinding me against his hard on. “No?”
“Nope.” My boobs pressed against his bare chest. Goosebumps blossomed all over my skin. “I’m going commando.”
Our hands flew everywhere, our legs tangled as we panted in the same rhythm. The same pulse. My hips met his, over and over, meeting his rock-hard cock through his slacks. I struggled to unbuckle his belt. He kicked his pants down, trying and failing to tug off my wraparound dress.
With a sigh, he unglued his lips from mine. “How much do you like this dress?”