The kiss falls apart. Lukas’s pupils are blown so wide his gray eyes look black, and the hand in my hair tightens just enough to tilt my head back.
“I need you,” he growls against my mouth. “Right now.”
The ring on my finger catches the January light as I grip the front of his henley. The stone throws a tiny prism across his jaw, and something about that—my ring, his skin, the way the two look together—makes my whole body clench.
“You just proposed to me thirty seconds ago,” I say. “Most people celebrate with champagne.”
His teeth graze my earlobe. “I’m not most people.”
No. No, he is decidedly not.
He lifts me onto the counter and crowds into me. The cold marble bites into the backs of my thighs and I gasp, but the sound gets swallowed by his mouth as he kisses me again.
He hooks h
