Page 17 of Wicked Mistletoe

“Are you almost done with that?” Rafael’s voice breaks through the whirlwind in my head. Startled, I jerk my gaze up to see him frowning at my barely touched plate. “Do you not like it?”

“No, um,” I stammer, clearing my suddenly dry throat. “It’s delicious.” And objectively, it is—a work of art masquerading as dessert. I scoop up more of the ‘tropical egg,’ which isn’t really an egg but made of coconut, mango, and passion fruit. The flavors explode on my tongue, but I’m too distracted to really take it in.

Because the man before me leans back in his seat, his silver eyes now scrutinizing me again. Well, at least I got his attention back, I guess. Then, suddenly, he reaches into his suit jacket and takes out a small Tiffany box. My heart stops as he puts the sky-blue box on the table between us.

No. No way. This can’t be what I think it is.

He flips it open, and I inhale sharply, sending a mouthful of dessert down the wrong pipe. I cough violently, eyes watering,dropping my fork with a clatter. In a desperate move, I grab for my wineglass and gulp down the crisp liquid.

The corner of his mouth twitches, and I swear I see the ghost of a smirk, as if he’s amused by my reaction, but I’m unable to tear my gaze away from that damned box and thethinginside.

“What is this?” But I know. Oh God, I know.

It’s a ring. A freaking gorgeous ring. Rose gold, with a cushion-cut center piece of pale pink diamond. Tiny diamonds circle it, shaped remarkably like flower petals—Azaleas, just like the ones he sent me. And just above the petals, more pink gems make up a tiny tiara in a small arch.

It’s ostentatious. Too much. Way too much. Probably costs more than I’ll make in an entire year as special agent.

But I love it. Love it.Love it.

“I hope you still like pink? If you don't, we can change the ring.”

“What?” I breathe, finally managing to tear my gaze from the ring to fixate on the lock of hair toying with his brow. My fingers suddenly crave to brush it back. How would it feel?

“You’re going to marry me, Emilia,” he declares, his tone as commanding as the note he left earlier. Not a question. Just an order, a statement of fact, delivered with the confidence of a man who’s never heard the word ‘no’. Leaning forward, he places his elbows on the table. “You want to be a doctor? I won’t stifle that dream. On the contrary, I want our careers to take off together. But I want you by my side—as my Queen.”

My head shakes on instinct, heart pounding so hard in my ears it’s a miracle I can hear him at all. This isn’treallyaproposal, is it? But fuck, it sure feels like one.

Before my brain can catch up, he pushes my dessert plate aside and takes my chin between his fingers. Then his calloused thumb traces slow, teasing circles over my skin, the friction sending jolts of electricity skittering all the way to my core.

“You and me against the world, Emilia,” he murmurs, leaning even closer, his warm breath fanning my cheek. “That’s the way it’s meant to be.”

My eyes flutter shut as a wave of dizziness hits me. “What are you talking about? It–it can’t work,” I whisper, even though my voice betrays how badly I want to believe otherwise.

“Why not?” His thumb traces up my chin to the corner of my lips, then drags across my lower lip. My breath catches, and my eyes fly open to find his gaze fixed on my mouth, filled with a dark, possessive hunger that sends a swarm of butterflies—no, the whole damn zoo—stampeding through my stomach.

Oh God, is he going to kiss me? Is he going to kiss me? Is he going to kiss me?

The thought ricochets around my skull until his lips on mine is all I can think about. My lips part instinctively, quivering, begging for it.

Come on. Please kiss me. Please, please kiss me.

“Why can’t it work, Emilia?” he asks again, and I blink owlishly. Huh?What’s he talking about?He must see the bewilderment in my eyes because he smiles—really smiles—for the first time tonight, and my brain officially throws in the towel.

“If you’re done with your meal, we should go.” The spell breaks as Rafael stands and comes behind me to pull my chair back. My heart drops a little.I wanted you to kiss me, damn it.But he doesn’t even seem to notice.

Then, just as I’m sinking into disappointment, his chest presses against my back, and my heart rockets up from the depths, right into my throat.He’s so close.I swear I can feel every hard plane of his body, and it’s doing things to me. Dangerous, delicious things. I bite back a gasp, my thighs clenching at the rush of heat pooling between them.

Girl, get a grip.

But that’s impossible when he's so casually setting my whole body on fire.

As if to torture me even further, he brushes the hair over my shoulders, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin on my neck, and I jolt. I can hardly control my breathing as he helps me back into my coat, and by the time we’re in the elevator, I’m panting like I’ve just finished an intense cardio session.

But that’s not the end of it. Before we even reach the ground floor, he crowds me against the elevator wall. He doesn’t touch me, but God I wish he would. My skin feels heated inside my coat, and I'm so, so aware of every inch of his body so close to mine.

“Are you okay?” he asks, but his voice is dripping with amusement.

Oh, the bastard knows.

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