Chapter 96: Hand Job

Cecilia

I tightened my grip and increased my pace, and his hips jerked forward involuntarily. He buried his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin, his hands fisting in the sheets on either side of my head.

"That's it," I murmured, surprised by how much I was enjoying this—the power of reducing him to desperate need, the intimacy of learning what made him fall apart. "Let go, Arthur. I've got you."

It took longer than I expected, my arm starting to ache from the repetitive motion, but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not when he was making those sounds, not when I could feel him getting closer, his whole body tensing.

"Ceci—" It was a warning and a plea. "I'm gonna—"

"I know," I said. "It's okay. Come for me."

He did, with a groan that sounded like my name, his release spilling over my hand and onto the torn red fabric of the dress that was still tangled around my body.

the same dress he'd practically ripped off me in his desperation to touch my skin, his fingers impatient with buttons and zippers until he'd just grabbed the neckline and pulled, the sound of tearing silk lost in our ragged breathing.

Okay, now this dress was completely ruined.

For a moment, he just stayed there, breathing hard, his weight pressing me into the mattress. Then he lifted his head and looked at me with an expression that was equal parts satisfied and chagrined.

"I just came all over your dress," he said.

"It was already ruined," I pointed out, gesturing to the torn bodice, and he laughed, the sound surprised and genuine.

He rolled off me and I immediately scrambled up, suddenly very aware of the state I was in—half-naked, covered in his release, the destroyed dress hanging off me in tatters, my face burning with a mixture of embarrassment and lingering arousal.

"I need to—I'm going to—" I gestured vaguely toward the door.

"Ceci—"

But I was already running, clutching the ruined dress to my chest as I fled down the hallway toward the master bedroom, my heart pounding and my face on fire.

Behind me, I heard Arthur call out, "I was supposed to tell you about the engagement party! The date's been set!"

I pretended not to hear him, slamming the bedroom door behind me and leaning against it, trying to catch my breath.

Oh my god. Oh my god, what did I just do?

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

"Ceci?" Arthur's voice was patient, amused. "Can I come in?"

"No."

"I'm coming in anyway."

The door opened—of course he had a key—and he stepped inside, looking completely put-together again, like nothing had just happened. Like I hadn't just had my hand wrapped around him while he—

"Stop thinking about it," he said, reading my expression easily. "You're making that face."

"What face?"

"The face you make when you're overthinking something." He crossed to where I was still standing by the door, wrapped in a bathrobe I'd grabbed from the bathroom. "It was good, Ceci. Really good. You don't need to be embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed," I lied.

"You're bright red and you won't look at me."

"I'm looking at you." I forced myself to meet his eyes, which was a mistake because they were warm and fond and still had that dark edge that said he was remembering exactly what we'd just done.

"I'm here to tell you the time of the engagement party," he said, mercifully changing the subject. "One week from Saturday."

I blinked, trying to process that. "One week?"

"Yes, this is the fastest time the team has finished all the arrangements."

"Is that too soon?" He looked suddenly uncertain. "I can push it back if you need more time—"

"No," I said quickly. "No, one week is perfect. I just—I didn't realize it was so close."

"I can't wait." He smiled. "I want to celebrate us. Want everyone to see that you're mine."

Heat flooded through me again, and I saw his eyes darken in response.

"Stop looking at me like that," he said, his voice rough. "Unless you want a repeat of what just happened."

"I thought you were supposed to be handling business calls."

"I was. They can wait." He took a step closer. "You're more important."

"Arthur—"

"One week, Ceci." He cupped my face in his hands. "One week, and then everyone will know. Everyone will see what I already know—that you're the most incredible woman I've ever met, and I'm the luckiest bastard alive because you chose me."

I felt tears prick at my eyes, because how was I supposed to resist him when he said things like that?

"I love you," I said, the words coming out shaky but certain.

"I love you too." He pressed his forehead against mine. "Now get dressed. Mrs. Chen wants to go over the floral arrangements and seating chart with us, and if we don't show up soon, she's going to come looking for us."

"Okay." I took a breath. "Okay, give me five minutes."

He kissed me once more, soft and sweet, then left me alone to get ready.

I looked at myself in the mirror—face flushed, eyes bright, looking thoroughly kissed despite the fact that we hadn't actually done anything beyond what happened in my old room.

One week, I thought. In one week, we're having an engagement party. And then after that...

After that, I'd marry him. Make it official. Become Mrs. Arthur Winston and start the life we'd both been waiting for.

The thought should have terrified me. Instead, I felt nothing but anticipation and a deep, settled certainty that this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

I got dressed quickly, choosing a simple navy dress that actually fit, and headed downstairs to find Arthur already in the library with Mrs. Chen, the two of them bent over what looked like detailed floor plans and table arrangements spread across the mahogany desk.

"Miss Locke!" Mrs. Chen looked up with a warm smile.

She launched into a detailed description of the flower arrangements. I let myself get swept up in the planning, in the joy of preparing for something that was just for us.

Arthur's hand found mine under the table, our fingers threading together, and I squeezed back, silently promising him everything—my present, my future, all of it.

One week, I thought again. I can't wait.