Free The Perfect Man by Amanda K. Byrne Page B

else I’ve got for you.”
    “I don’t need to. There’s candles.”
    He chuckled and teased my mouth with his. I rose on my toes, wanting more, a bigger, deeper kiss. Tracing the seam of his lips with my tongue, they parted on a groan, his fingers digging into my lower back. “Shouldn’t have done that,” he rasped when I let him up for air.
    “Why not?” I kissed my way along his jaw, nipping into his earlobe.
    “Because you know those boots make me want to fuck you.”
    I drew back and smiled. They were the same boots I’d worn the night I met him, and he’d told me a while ago he’d wanted to bend me over a table while I was only wearing the boots. Of course I made him act it out, and we’d repeated the performance on more than one occasion.
    Whatever he had planned for tonight, it could wait.
    I unwound my arms from around his neck and reached for the hem of my sweater, pulling it over my head and dropping it on the floor. The skirt was next, pooling at my feet. Eyes locked on his, arousal growing as the gleam of desire in his eyes grew brighter, I twisted my arms behind my back, flicking open the hooks. The bra joined the sweater and the skirt, and as Alex tensed, I pushed my panties over my hips.
    The feel of him completely clothed to my totally naked burned right through me. “I’ve got a confession,” I murmured, threading my fingers through his hair. “Did you know the first night I met you, I had thoughts of you fucking me against the wall? Wearing the boots, and only the boots?”
    He stared at me. Chest heaving. Eyes bright with lust. C'mon. Take me.
    His mouth came down, our teeth clacking together in a vicious kiss. His hands raced over my body, trying to be everywhere at once, and I fought with his clothes. Buttons pinged and skittered over the hardwood floor as I yanked at his shirt. The buckle of his belt fought back, and I shrieked as he thrust his fingers into my cunt, greed rippling through me. Belt undone, fly open, I pushed his pants and boxers down far enough to free his cock.
    He backed me up to the wall, hitched my legs around his waist, and thrust forward, burying himself in one brutal stroke. He withdrew, plunged again, setting a fast pace, the hard slap of flesh on flesh mingling with my pleading cries for more. He groaned into my mouth as my heels dug into his ass. “Christ. Hannah. I love you.” He rotated his hips in a circle, flipping the switch on my orgasm. As it rose in a towering, crushing wave, he kept up the pressure. “Marry me.”
    Those two words pushed me over the edge, and I threw my head back as I came, hard, throbbing around him. Over the rushing in my ears I heard his shout of release, felt it pulsing inside me.
    His arms trembled as he dropped his head onto my shoulder. Marry Alex. Marry the perfect man. Over the year we’d been together, he’d proven himself to be the perfect man, shown me that even with our rocky start, he was right. What we had was real and strong and amazing . And he wanted to marry me.
    He carried me into the bathroom and set me on the edge of the sink, cleaning both of us up from our impromptu fucking. “Alex?”
    Nerves tightened the lines of his face. “C’mon.” He picked me up again, carried me out to the living room and set me on the couch. I watched his very naked, very fine ass retreat to the table, and he came back with a jeweler’s box.
    Inside was a ruby, the heart of it so dark it was almost black, the band a gleaming platinum. After that, I couldn’t see much, because the tears started to fall, blurring my vision. The cool metal slid over my finger, and I blinked furiously to clear the tears.
    It looked right. Meant for me. Just as the man kneeling at my feet was meant for me. Who else would propose in the middle of sex, and then follow it up with a naked presentation of the ring? My perfect man, that’s who.
    I smiled and slid off the couch. “You’re such a dork,” I whispered, pressing myself against him. “I