Page 56 of Bronson

I hold out my trembling right hand.

He takes my right hand in his. He gives it a kiss. To my surprise, he presses it gently back into my lap.

Instead, he lifts my left hand, slipping the rock on my ring finger.

I don’t know what he means by this simple choice, but I don’t dwell on it. Because the ring is magnificent and sparkling on my finger. And it’s a perfect fit.

The diamond dazzles beneath the lights. It is many shades of blue. Darker at the edges of the cuts, lighter at the center. Tiny rainbows dance within the precious gem.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I turn my hand this way and that, letting the sparkles fly.

There are no words to show how grateful I am. So I whisper, “Thank you.”

His hands go to either side of my face, cradling it gently. He leans down, his mouth closing on mine. Our lips press together.

He pulls back slightly, his face inches from mine. His husky voice whispers, “What’s your answer?”

I lock my gaze with his. I want him to know that when I speak, I speak the truth. “I made up my mind… before you brought out the ring.”

He holds my face in his hands, his dark eyes studying mine. “And?”

I feel shy to say it. Disbelief fills my mind. He wants to be with me? Shoving away my doubts, I say, “And… yes. I want to be with you. To be… yours.”

His eyes shine like a kid at Christmas. I’ve never seen such joy on his face. Smiling, he presses his mouth against mine, kissing me again.

This kiss brings with it a new energy. It’s a kiss that seals the deal. A symbol of a commitment made. A kiss that signifies our union.

With this kiss, we are together. An item.

I have entered the world of the Bachmans…

The kiss deepens, our arms winding around one another. Our hands caressing each other.

A couple.

He pulls back from the kiss. His mouth finds my ear. His breath is hot. He whispers, “I have to have you.”

A yearning rises from deep within me. A need to be with him. To have him inside of me. To become one with him.

He takes my hand, leading me up to his room.

The master bedroom takes up the entire third floor. There is no door to open, just a threshold to cross. There in the center of the room sits a massive bed on a black iron frame. Crisp white duvet and sheets are neatly spread across the mattress, not a wrinkle in sight. A plush gray carpet sits before the bed. It looks so soft.

Above the bed hangs a huge metal sculpture of a bird. On either side of the bed are tall windows, the panes fused together with black metal.

So many big, uncovered windows.

Like the very same window Tess had been standing in.

I gulp.

He comes up behind me, his chest pressing against my back. He leans down, nibbling at my earlobe. “Do you like what you see?”

“It’s beautiful.” My pussy throbs as he kisses down my neck, brushing my hair back with his hand.

His hands slip down my chest, over my breasts. To my waist. His fingers tangle into the bow that ties my wrap dress in the front. He undoes the bow, the dress falls open. His hands go to my shoulders, slipping the fabric down my arms. The gown puddles at my feet.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply. His fingertips trail down the skin of my bare back. A delicious shiver runs down my spine. He finds the clasp of my bra, undoing it and freeing my breasts. The bra drops to the floor, onto my forgotten dress.