Free Bring On the Night by Jeri Smith-Ready Page A

When his hand opened, it revealed a velvet jewelry box. Small. Black. Square.
    My throat closed up.
    He took my hand, and I met his gaze as he spoke. I’d been dreading this moment for years, the moment we’dmove forward or fall apart. The beginning of the end.
    “That song exhausted my supply of pretty words, so these are all I have left.” He opened the box. “Ciara, will you marry me?”
    I kept my eyes on his face and didn’t even glance at the ring. It didn’t matter how big or beautiful it was. My answer would be the same.
    “Yes.”
    His eyes reflected my own shock. “Are you crazy? I mean, are you sure?”
    “Yes. And yes.”
    I was sure. Sure this was insane. Sure it was unheard-of, for a million damn good reasons.
    Sure it was what I wanted.
    He looked at me sideways. “But are you sure you’re sure?”
    I hesitated, asking my gut if I was saying yes for fear of losing him or from the desire to make him happy or the rebellious urge to prove the world wrong.
    My gut replied with a thousand celebratory butterflies.
    “I want to be with you.” I held his face between my trembling hands. “As long as I live.”
    The tension lines between his brows vanished. “Amazing,” he whispered, then kissed me hard, with a deep, human sigh. I reveled in the feel of his lips against mine, and didn’t care that they’d be the only lips I’d ever taste again. If I lived to be a hundred, my life with him would be too short.
    He pulled away, face contorting into a half smile, half grimace. “I can’t believe you said yes right away. I had this whole long argument planned out.” His words tumbled over one another, his eyes gleaming with adrenaline. “I was going to keep you awake for days until you said yes out of sleep-deprivation-induced insanity.”
    I laughed, then finally looked down at the ring in his hand.
    “Oh my God!” My plate flew off my lap, scattering fruit and cheese cubes across the rug. I snatched the jewelry box out of his hand. “Sapphires?” A pair of them, marquise cut, sat on either side of the round diamond. “They’re my favorite.”
    “They are?”
    “As of now.”
    Shane brushed my hair off my cheek. “I got them because they reminded me of your eyes.” He winced. “Wow, that sounded cheesy. Can I take it back and say something macho like, ‘They were on sale’?”
    “Whatever.” I reached for the ring, but he grabbed it first with supernatural speed.
    “Uh-uh,” he said. “I’m supposed to put it on you.”
    I stretched out the fingers of my left hand. “I didn’t know you were such a stickler for tradition.”
    “I knelt, didn’t I?”
    “Yeah, but on both knees instead of one.”
    “I knew something was off.” He shifted to set one foot down, then slid the ring onto the proper finger. “Anyway, happy engagement,” he said with mock brusqueness.
    I held the ring up to the fake firelight. It was a little loose. “Did you guess my size?”
    “I borrowed its counterpart.” He touched the silver band with the Celtic knot on the third finger of my right hand. “Your left hand must have skinnier fingers.”
    “You stole my ring?” I smacked his chest. “You knew I was looking for it. My mom gave that to me.”
    “And I found it for you in the garbage disposal,remember?”
    “Bad boy.” I curled my fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “You’re a bigger con artist than I am.”
    He took my right hand and slipped off the Celtic knot band.
    “What are you doing?” I asked him.
    “I want to see you wearing nothing but my ring.” His fingers slid under my sweater, the thumb and pinky catching on the hem to lift it up. “Now.”
    “Shouldn’t we open the champagne?”
    “Champagne second. Naked first.” He pulled the sweater over my head, then undid my belt. “Now’s a really bad time to deliberate over sex like an old married couple.”
    My dread of normality jump-started a desperate desire. “Then it’s a really good time to fuck me like a