Page 21 of Claimed By the Hitchhiker

The skirt flares from the ribbon belt, falling in soft pleats and folds. It’s pretty chilly, but I don’t want to cover the low-scoop back, deciding I’m gonna be stylishly cold tonight. It’s stupid, I know. But Damien’s been so busy for weeks that I want him to froth at the mouth while he looks at me.

And boy, he does.

He steps out and looks at me over the roof, his hot eyes running down the length of my body, flashing wickedly and stopping just above my cleavage. His face darkens as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

Damien doesn’t say anything as he steps toward me, but he doesn’t need to. It feels like he’s already taking my clothes off with his intense gaze. He stops in front of me, skimming his knuckles along my jawline, his warm breath tickling my ear as he whispers, “You know what? Maybe we should head back to the room so I can rip this dress off you.”

“Oh, don’t you dare!” I laughingly push him away. “This is my favorite!”

A smirk plays on his lips. “We can always buy another.”

“Just like how you buy me a dozen panties every week because you rip them off every chance you get?”

He shrugs, looking smug and proud of himself. “I go caveman whenever you’re near. So…are you wearing that sticky thing on your lips?”

I chuckle. “Lip gloss? No. Because I know you’re gonna suck it clean within seconds.”

He doesn’t even deny it, just pulls me to him and crushes his lips to mine. And just like that, I melt into him, clutching his sleeves and pushing my hips forward, gasping when the thick ridge of his arousal presses against my stomach. It’s always like this between us, like we can’t get enough of each other and we just want to burn.

“Jesus Christ. We need to leave, Dani. I’m this close to taking you right here.”

And I wouldn’t have objected.

* * *

I should’ve knownhe’d bring me here.

Last week, I told him about getting an order for a $2,000 bouquet. We had it delivered to this high-end rooftop restaurant in the middle of the city. It was outrageous, but the establishment intrigued me because it was supposed to have the best views.

Now I’m staring in awe as we’re ushered by a hostess into the terrace full of unique furniture and plush seating upholstered in rich red leather. We’re seated beside the glass balustrade, with breathtaking, unobstructed views not just of the skyline but the bustling cityscape below.

I don’t remember much of the meal because I’m too busy staring at Damien and thinking of the way he’s changed my life. On nights when he’s still working and I’m lying alone in bed, I think about what might have happened if his car never broke down or if I sped away instead of giving him a ride.

Maybe I’m still running. Or maybe, eventually, we’ll still find each other. I hate thinking of a life without him.

“Dani, how about dessert?”

“And coffee?”

“And coffee.”

This is kind of our thing. We always end the night with dessert and coffee. It started one night when I craved something sweet and something bitter, and somehow, it just became part of our nightly tradition—unless he gets called on a case somewhere.

I’m looking at the bar’s onyx countertop and wondering just how expensive that is when Damien takes my hand from across the table and kisses my knuckles. Just like always, my core clenches. My body goes haywire so easily when he’s around.

“Dani, all those years before I met you, that wasn’t much of a life. We’ve been together for a year, and you’ve filled those parts in me I didn’t even know were empty.”

He stands up, goes down on one knee in front of me, and opens a small, black velvet box. Oh god, is this…? “So, Dani. You said you never had a surname. What do you think about taking mine? Will you marry me, baby girl?”

My breath catches in my throat, tears pricking my eyes. The chatter around us fades, and I see only him and the dazzling diamond ring. My hands fly to my mouth, unable to believe this is happening.

I choke on a sob and smile. “Yes, Damien. Yes, I will marry you.”

It takes me a while before I realize other diners are clapping and cheering. But I don’t care about them. I’m looping my arms around his neck as he wraps his arms around my body. This is what matters—him and me. Now and always.

“I love you, Dani. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too, Damien. I’m yours. Forever.”

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