Page 111 of The Billionaire's Secret
"I suppose it was too much of a rush to get rings so—"
"I have a ring," Saint replies.
"What?" I open and close my mouth.
A murmur runs through the assembled group.
"You do?" Edward frowns, then jerks his chin, "Okay, then."
Saint pats his breast pocket, his forehead crinkling. "Uh, maybe I forgot it…"
"Saint!" Edward admonishes him.
He releases my hand to feel his left pocket. "Oh, shit," he grimaces. "I can’t believe I left it behind."
"Come on, Saint," Arpad calls out.
"Get with the program, you tosser," Damian smirks.
"You losing your touch, old sport?" Weston chuckles.
Edward holds his forefinger and thumb to his lips and blows. A piercing whistle echoes through the space.
The group settles.
"Right, now that you grownups, who prefer to behave like children, have settled down…" He trains a stern gaze on Saint. "Stop dicking around, will you?" Edward scolds him.
Laugher breaks out from the crowd.
Saint pats the right-hand pocket of his slacks, pulls out a ring. "Here it is."
He reaches for my left hand, slips it on my ring finger. An emerald, set in a simple platinum setting, gleams in the light from above.
"It belonged to my mother," he says.
I shoot him a surprised glance.
"Don’t read anything into it." His features harden, "It happened to be at hand."
Right.
"You may kiss the bride," Edward grins at us.
"No, wait—" I begin to protest, but Saint hauls me close, bends me at the waist, then he kisses me. It’s not hard, not punishing, nothing like his previous kisses. He nibbles on my lower lip, and when I open my mouth, he licks his tongue across my upper lip, tracing the curve of my cupid’s bow. He wraps one arm around my shoulders, curls the other around my waist. He pulls me so close that his warmth surrounds me, his body shields me, and his shoulder blocks out the sight of everything else. I close my eyes, sink into the warm, trembling, buttery sensations that melt my insides. My toes curl and my scalp tingles. All the pores on my body pop. He tilts his head, deepens the kiss, tangles his tongue with mine. His taste is enticing, with that dark edge that calls to me, pulls me in, tugs me in, shudders down my spine, coils in the pit of my belly, slides warmth between my thighs. Liquid heat bleeds through my veins, turning me into a mass of quivering, burning, aching goo. An aching hollowness that wants, needs, demands— He breaks the kiss.
I open my eyes, gaze into those burning cerulean depths of his. His features wear an expression of shock…surprise…lust… His nostrils flare. His gaze drops to my mouth. "Gigi, I—"
A burst of applause rings out. I shudder. He firms his lips. A nerve throbs at his temple. He straightens, pulling me up with him.
The clapping intensifies.
He smiles down at me. The expression on his face is open, carefree. So damn happy. In that second, he’s a man, I’m a woman. We have our lives together in front of us. United. Never alone. I have him. He is mine. For now. For this second. My lips curve. His smile widens, white teeth sparkling against his tanned skin. He winds his arm around my waist, pulls me into his side as he turns.
"Bravo."
"Beautiful."
"Congratulations."
