creased and calloused in mine, and I suppress the urge to throw myself into his arms and yell âyes, yes, yes.â
âBelinda.â Hawkeâs thick fingers tremble. Beads of sweat form on his forehead. Heâs nervous because he wants this badly. He wants me. âI love you. Thereâs no other woman for me. Youâre my first and only choice.â
âYouâre my first and only choice also.â I cup his rugged face, gazing down into his faded blue jean eyes. âIt was always you, from the beginning.â
âI can vouch for that,â a curt voice adds. âI didnât have a chance.â
I smile. Nicolas is here, the billionaireâs presence communicating his acceptance, his approval. I donât look at him, my gaze fixed on Hawke. âEveryone knows Iâm your girl.â
âI want you to be more than that, love.â Hawke uncurls the fingers of his left hand, the finger tattooed with my name covered with white gauze, and he reveals a distinctive sapphire blue leather ring box with an HW etched on the top.
My breath catches. He bought the ring from Harry Winston, jeweler to the stars.
âI want you to be my wife.â Hawke opens the box, and the room spins merrily around me. There are diamonds, diamonds, and more diamonds, the sparkle almost blinding me. A massive round center stone is framed by diamonds and set on a diamond band. The stones are so closely set, I donât see the precious metal.
âYou like it.â His voice is husky.
âI love it.â I smile, light-headed. He knows I adore his choice. Hawke has always been able to read me, to realize my truth before I speak a word. âAnd I love you.â
âYouâre my everything.â He removes the ring from the box. âThis is a small token of what I plan to give you.â
His beautiful diamonds canât compare to the love in his eyes.
âBelinda Carter.â He slides the band onto my finger, pushing the circle of diamonds past my knuckle. It fits as perfectly as it looks, the lights making the gems glitter. âWill you marry me?â
This is a life-changing moment and shouldnât be taken lightly. I should approach it in a calm, sensible, rational manner, take a moment to think about my decision, to appreciate the impact on me, on my mom, on everyone who relies on me, to ensure myself that this is the correct thing to do.
This is what I should do. But I have no doubts. Hawke is the right man for me, the only man. Shit. I canât temper my reaction, and I donât want to.
âYes.â I throw myself into his arms, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist, holding nothing back. My mountain of man doesnât even move, his big form and solid muscle absorbing all of my weight. âYes. Yes. Yes.â I cover his blunt, scarred face with fervent kisses. âIâll marry you.â
The diner explodes with hoots and hollers and eardrum-bursting whistles. Men and women rush forward, pounding Hawkeâs shoulders, slapping my back. My fiancé folds his body around me, protecting me as he always does, not allowing me to be trampled. I trust him to safeguard me, and Iâm too dazed to feel fear.
Because Iâm marrying this brave, wonderful, honorable man.
I sit on his knee and we kiss amid the chaos, our lips fused together, our tongues twining. The stubble on his chin leaves a burning trail on my skin. The taste of him fills my mouth. I want him, need him.
But weâre not alone. I reluctantly draw back from him. âIâll have my wicked way with you later.â I drag my fingernails through the short coarse hair on his cheeks, and his eyelashes lower, his face softening. âWe shouldnât ignore our guests.â
âSome of your guests arenât used to being ignored.â
âNicolas.â I bounce off of Hawkeâs knee.
The billionaire stands to the right of us, his