She swallows and she wraps her arms around my neck. "And what do you want, Andrew?"
"I want you and your grandma to come home with me for Christmas."
She looks into my eyes. "That wasn't just a part of an act to make my grandma happy?"
"Of course, I want to make your grandma happy, but I want to be happy too."
"And us being there, that would make you happy?"
I nod. "It would make me very fucking happy, yes."
"Why?" she asks. "Why are you saying this right now?"
"Because I've just spent the day with you, Angel, and I've seen how wonderful you are, how gentle and kind and... Fuck." I run my hand over her back. She's wearing a thick red sweater, a pair of blue jeans, her hair to her waist, boots on her feet, fully clothed, and yet I can feel the beating of her heart.
I want to tell her that I've loved her for two damn years. I want to say it has nothing to do with this day, that it has to do with all the other days, all the other times I've watched her be kind and generous and gentle. But I don't want to terrify her.
"Andrew," she says.
"Yes?"
"You're a very nice person," she says. Her word, nice, seems to shift the mood in the room.
"Nice?" I say. My shoulders fall. "For some reason, I feel like that's the beginning of the end.”
"It's not," she says, "I swear." She presses her hands to my chest. "When I say you're nice, it's the start of a compliment. You're nice in ways that scare me."
"Why? You're not used to nice guys?"
"Honestly," she says, "I haven't been around a nice guy since my grandpa died. He's the only nice guy I've ever known. In the modeling industry, I'm around real assholes, like Allister. You're the only nice guy I ever come across. You carry handkerchiefs in your pocket, Andrew. You make playlists and pick up lattes, and you shovel snow off my grandmother's porch. You are a nice guy."
"I want to be more than a nice guy, at least for one night," I tell her.
"You do?" she says. "What kind of guy do you want to be?" Her eyes narrow, sparkling, hinting at a desire for more for the first time since our kiss.
"I want to be your lover,” I admit. “Tonight, will you let me?"
Her cheeks turn pink. "Really?” she asks. "Is that what you really want?"
I nod. "You're my fiancée after all, aren't you?" I squeeze her hips. I unbutton her jeans, shove them down her hips. "Come on, Angel. We’ve determined what sort of guy I am but let’s find out if you’re naughty or nice."
CHAPTER 8
ANGEL
Andrew's fingertips are on the buttons of my jeans, and I pull in a breath looking into his eyes. "I want this." I tell him, "so damn bad, but..."
"What is it?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.
"I've never..." I lick my lips. "Andrew..." I exhale. "I'm a virgin."
His eyes widen as he takes me in and I wonder what he sees, what he thinks of me. "Damn," he says. "I thought you were perfect before, but now..." He runs a hand over my cheek. "Now, Angel, I have no question whether you're naughty or nice."
"Stop," I say. "You're going to make me blush. I'm not perfect. I'm..." I shrug, heat rising up to my face. I feel hot and bothered in ways I never have before. “It's just never been the right time. There's never been a special person.”
"Well, I don't want to rush you. We don't need to do this. I want your first time to be special."
"This is special. It feels special. Today has been incredible."
"I know," he says. "But it's also been a long fucking day."
"Fucking, huh?" I tease the word on my lips. I run my hand over his broad shoulders, down his chest. He's full of muscles and I want his shirt off. I want to see what's underneath, to see everything. Him, naked. "You know," I say, "you've seen me in next to nothing at so many photo shoots, but I've never seen you without a shirt on. I don't know how fair that is."
He groans. "Angel, if we start going down that road, it's going to be really hard to fall asleep tonight."
"I know," I tell him.
"But I don't want your first time to be like this." He shakes his head. "You deserve more than that. You deserve the whole fucking world, Angel. I mean, you're everything to me."
"I am?" I ask. I look down at the ring on my finger. "But this is just pretend, isn't it? You and me?" I hold up my hand, flash the engagement ring to him.
"Is it all pretend? I don't know how pretend it is, to be honest," he tells me. "I don't want to say something and freak you out, but..."