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I made a face. “Why would my heart ...” He dropped to one knee. I’d expected this for the photo shoot, but knowing hadn’t been enough to prepare me for the moment. My breathing became shallow—the camera was clicking, capturing the moment when Thorne slid out the red velvet box.

The ring inside was small, elegant. The diamond on top created a rainbow in the sun as he lifted it free.This is all a show,I reminded myself.We’re marrying for our families. This is pretend. And that’s fine, totally fine.

“Nova Valentine,” he whispered.

Oh, hell. Oh no. Oh God.

My dress was too tight. There was a tiny, high-pitched noise in my ears and it was a full minute before I realized it wasmemaking that sound.Overwhelmedwasn’t the word for this.Thorne is asking me to marry him, but there’s no one recording us. The camera can’t hear his voice.So was he pretending like me? Was this part of the farce to get the perfect photograph?

He took my hand, the ring poised in front of my finger. “Will you marry me?” He asked it gently. It was a set of knuckles to my ribs. Something terrible had never felt so good. But thiswasbad, undeniably bad. No one should be swept off their feet by a proposal gained by threats.

I hoped God couldn’t read my thoughts, because if so, I was going to hell.

“Yes.” I swallowed the word. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The ring coasted into place. The photographer said something. I ignored him, too swept up in Thorne. He stood again, blocking out the sun with his broad shoulders. His warm palms captured my face. As he dipped to kiss me, I stood on tiptoe, calves stretching, to reach his lips as fast as I could.

Our sweet kiss became something else. His hands moved to my shoulders, to my waist, and when he grabbed my ass I became conscious once more that I was panty-less. His teeth slid over my ear as he whispered, “Did you follow my directions?”

“Yes,” I said, my eyes rolling in my head. The wave of pleasure was blinding me.

“Ahem,” the camera guy said.

Thorne kissed my cheek, then he stepped back. He looked extremely proud of himself. “Do you like the ring?”

Studying it again, I smiled. “Very much.”

“I’m glad. I was worried you’d know what I was up to when we were shopping.”

My hands fell into my lap. “You bought this?” That was why I hadn’t seen him buy the bracelet for his mother. He’d gotten them both while I was buying my lingerie.

“Yeah, though I guess I didn’t need to. Mom brought some spares for me to pick from.” His lashes drifted low as he avoided my eyes. Leaning back, he suddenly smiled at me straight on. “I don’t know. Even if the situation isn’t ideal, it seemed weird to do this without choosing the ring myself.”

I had no response. It was a relief when the photographer put us back through our paces, an excuse for me to keep my thoughts to myself.

“Okay, kids,” the guy said. He squinted into the back screen of his camera. “I’ve got plenty to work with. Good luck, tell your parents to hire me for your wedding!”

I watched him go. When he reached the table in the distance where our mothers were sitting, Thorne circled my wrist with his hand. He wrapped so far around his fingers closed over his thumb; I felt so tiny. “This way,” he said, hauling me into the rose maze.

Thorne led us into the greenery. The sunlight through the leaves turned us both yellow, insects creating a chorus that matched the hum of my heart. I stared at the back of his head, marveling at his speed. Desperate to keep up—to run as fast—I kicked my heels off.

He glanced at me as I appeared beside him, breathing heavily. Clinging to his hand, I accelerated even faster into the bushes. We took a corner in the maze, the sky hiding under the clustered roses above our heads.

Thorne was panting. He didn’t look tired, though. Spinning me around, he wove his hands into my scalp, cupping the base of my skull. Leaves scratched at my bare back where the dress didn’t protect me. His lips fastened on mine, allowing nothing to get between us. He kissed with a barely controlled energy—what had gotten into him?

Turning away, he ended the kiss. The front of his pants was bulging. “Show me,” he said, his hands slipping down my arms, lifting goosebumps as they went. “Lift your dress.”

I knew what he wanted to see. Trembling with anticipation, I hoisted my dress hem up my legs. It was cool where it touched, parts of it clinging from sweat after our brief sprint. My mouth hung open, breath coming in short, fierce bursts.

The front of my dress cleared my hip bones. Air caressed my pussy, my juices sticking to the insides of my thighs. “Fuck,” he grunted. “That’s stunning.” He was transfixed on my pussy, and for a while I was free to study his face as it shifted through honest, unguarded expressions of greed. He wanted me more than anything. If I’d had something to ask for, I could have, right then, gotten it.

Except what I wanted was him.

And I already had that.

“I need to taste you.” He dropped gracefully to his knees in front of me. It was a testament to his male aura that even on his knees, he radiated absolute power over me. Grabbing my hips, Thorne guided my pussy to his mouth.

“Ah!” I whined. A single lick had sent sparks up my limbs.