What She Wants. Lucinda Betts

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What She Wants - Lucinda Betts

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she couldn’t bring herself to pose the real question, reveal the actual truth. “Oh, wait. You are. And you do.”

      He chuckled, shielding her eyes from the sudden glare of another passing car as it rounded a turn. “I thought we were far enough away from the road for this nonsense.”

      “I don’t care about the cars.” And she didn’t, but instead of hearing the vehicle complete the coastal turn, the engine stopped in the distance, and the car door closed, softly. She thought about leaving, finding a different knoll, but if other people saw the beauty of this perfect beach, so be it. “This is lovely.”

      “Now where were we?”

      “Let me remind you.” She pushed him onto the warm, blanket-covered sand and pinned him beneath her with a lascivious giggle.

      “Mmm,” he answered. His lips met hers, taking before she could give. Not that she minded. The heat of his tongue traced the edge of her lip, and she nipped in return, sucking his lip into her mouth. She savored his taste.

      Rolling across the blanket, he nibbled the back of her ear, making the hairs on her neck ripple with pleasure. He kissed the side of her neck slowly as his cock pressed against her thigh.

      Ann tilted her head to the side, inviting more kisses, yielding. Sliding the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders, his palms caressed her bare shoulders, and his hands traveled lower, to her upper arms. The backs of his fingers brushed the sides of her breasts, almost on accident. Ann arched her back as he slid the straps over her shoulders, pressing her tight nipples into his palms.

      “That feels so good. In this moonlight, you look like a goddess.” Then he kissed her. “Diana of the Hunt, maybe.”

      Heat raced into their kiss, and nervous fear fell to the background. She ran her hand through his hair, enjoying the purr of delight he gave. That pleasure was nothing compared to the pleasure she felt when he pressed his chest against her breasts.

      Ann lay back in the warm sand, inviting him, tugging with her hands. “Please, don’t stop.”

      He did though. He sat up and took her hand in his. “My life—” he started to say, but then emotion seemed to choke him. “My life,” he said more clearly, “hasn’t been the same since I met you. You make me—” He stopped with her hand on his chest.

      She couldn’t let him finish. She had to tell him the truth. “I—”

      “No.” He pressed a finger against her lips. “Let me finish.”

      She’d wait. She curled around him, resting her cheek against his naked chest. The pounding of his heart echoed the sound of the surf. It couldn’t possibly be pounding as loudly as her own.

      “You’ve made me happier, more content, and more inspired than I’ve ever been,” he said.

      With her heart in her throat, she felt his hand sneak between them and into his pocket. She knew what he was about to ask.

      “I can’t picture the rest of my life anywhere but by your side.”

      Ann stared at him, trying to memorize the moment. The empty beach spread around them, and the moonlight gleamed in his hair, turning its rich gold into silver. His eyes were hard to read, even for her, but what could be in them except devotion and love?

      “Will you do me the honor of marrying me?” He handed her the now-opened box.

      She wanted to jump up and dance around the beach, but she managed to control herself. “We won’t have to hide anymore!” She clapped her hands.

      “So, will you marry me?”

      She accepted the box as if it were fragile, as if it might break into a million pieces. The moonlight glinted off the huge marquise-cut diamond, and it glittered like one of the stars above them. “It’s beautiful.”

      “I hope you’ll say that when you can really see the ring.” He touched the box gently but didn’t take it from her. “I looked at so many, trying to find the one I could see on your finger. I wish you could see it.”

      “Daniel.” She had to confess now. “I can.”

      “Of course you can, but when you get it into the light—”

      “I mean, I don’t need the light to see it. I—” Again, words failed her. “I’m not—” She stopped.

      “Ann?” He said her name so softly.

      “Yes?”

      “Do you accept? Will you marry me?”

      She ached to say yes. “I have to tell you something first. I won’t be a coward and keep this from you.”

      “There’s nothing you could say that’d change my mind.” His words sounded sincere, but the tiny muscles beneath his eyes tightened and his eyebrows came together.

      “There might be.” She wanted to tell him. She did. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something calculated lurked just below the surface in his gaze.

      “What is it?”

      She didn’t answer. It wasn’t just her life she was putting in his hands—it was the lives of all her kind. If he ever let her secret out, she and her family would spend the rest of their lives as guinea pigs in the basements of laboratories—just like the aliens at Roswell, poor souls.

      “Tell me your secrets, baby. You’ll feel a lot better when you do. And I’ll still love you.” He planted a kiss on her nose. “I promise.”

      A paranoid thought hit her out of the blue. Had he planned this entire proposal not to take her hand in marriage but to hear her secret? Maybe that’s why she didn’t want to tell him?

      Absurd. Her fear was normal, not based in anything creepy. She tried again. “It’s just that I…I don’t always look like this.”

      “I’ve seen you with bedhead, baby. You’re gorgeous then, too. Even without the bun.”

      “That’s not what I mean.”

      “What is it, then?”

      Soft footfalls intruded just then, to the south and in the scrub roses. “Someone’s coming.”

      “How could you know that?” In the dark night, his eyes didn’t seem like cobalt—they seemed like steel. Why did she have such a bad feeling about this?

      “Someone parked a car up the beach a few minutes ago, and he must have walked over here. He’s in the roses over there, the ones with the pink flowers.”

      “How can you know that?” His eyes were locked on hers. He wanted an answer. “The color of the flowers? Where someone’s standing? How could you know that?”

      “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” It was time for the truth. “I’m not hum—”

      “Daniel!” Rage vibrated through the intruding voice.

      “Who’s there?” He

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