But she took his hand and he pulled her down so she was sitting across his lap. "Different how?"
Byron swept her short hair away from his face and rested his chin on her shoulder. She curled into him, into his warmth. "When I first asked you out-almost two years ago-you knew who I was, right?"
She nodded. She didn't want to revisit what had gone wrong before. Not tonight. But the sky was beautiful and Byron was warm and one of his hands was tucked around her thigh and the other was rubbing against her back and the moment was...peaceful.
"But you went out with me anyway."
"After you asked me three times." Their voices were quiet, their heads close together. It felt intimate to sit like this.
"And..." He took a deep breath. "And if I'd asked you to marry me before that night, would you have said yes?"
The corners of her mouth pulled down. "Saying yes would have meant having to face who I really was."
"And it would have been a problem, it's true. Not a deal-breaker, though. But that's not what I'm asking. I'm asking if you would have said yes."
She stared at the stars. A plane from the airport cut across the sky, rising higher and higher. Not a deal-breaker. Was he being honest? Or would he have accused her of trying to trap him, when she told him she was that Harper and pregnant with his child?
"If you'd known who my father was from the beginning, would you have asked me out three times?"
He shifted, cupping her chin in his hand and lifting her head until he looked her in the eye. "I don't think I could have stayed away from you."
Even though the angle was awkward, she hugged him to her. That was all she'd wanted-to be Leona, and to be good enough. She'd almost had it, too-before it'd been torn away.
"And I can't believe you would have spent a whole year making me fall in love with you if it'd been a trap set by Harper."
She looked up at him. Their faces were close, so close. But he didn't kiss her and she didn't kiss him. "I made you fall in love with me? Is that what you thought?"
The last time he'd brought feelings into the conversation, it had been the extremely noncommittal "I cared for you once." Nothing about love, not then and not now.
This new confession, at least, was something that felt less like an evasion. Even if it was still a slight.
He touched his forehead to her, a sweet touch that made her lean into him even more. "All I'm doing is asking you now. I know a lot has happened in the past year but..." He pulled his keys out of his pocket. She was surprised to see that the ring was on the key chain. That didn't seem like the best place for a diamond. "I'll admit that I haven't done the best job of it."
She snorted, but she couldn't tear her eyes off the ring. It was a stunning piece-the emerald-cut diamond was huge. When he'd first pulled it out, she'd been too surprised to do much of anything but gape at it. He'd dropped a fortune on it, that much was clear. Just like the house, it'd seemed like too much. But now, flashing only occasionally, it didn't seem as overwhelming.
"I'd been planning on asking you for a few months before... Well, I'd been waiting for the right moment. And I missed my window then. But now? Now is the right time."
He jostled her from side to side as he worked the ring off the key chain. Then he settled her back on his lap and held the ring up for her.
"I thought you said I could decide after we made it through two weeks," she said in a breathless voice.
"Oh, don't worry," he chuckled. "If you want to wait the two weeks, I'll ask again."
This time, she physically picked up the ring. It was the first time she'd touched it. It felt warm in her palm-Byron's warmth. She closed her fingers around the ring. It was a heavy thing, but it didn't feel like a lead weight dragging her down. The corners of the rectangular stone dug into her fingers. She swallowed nervously. "And what if the two weeks don't go well? Then what?"
"I'm still going to live in that house. I like the kitchen," he said with a grin. But then the grin faded. "If we can't live together, I hope you'll consider letting me get you a place closer to me. I don't want to waste time I could be spending with my son in traffic."
She thought about this. She had no attachment to this apartment. And if Byron was helping with the rent, she'd love to get a place that had a yard for Percy to play in. She didn't need a mansion, no matter what Byron said. But she'd like to raise her son in a house.
"I guess that sounds reasonable." She wrinkled her nose at him. "But not a palace." Because if it fell apart, she wanted to try to keep things the same for Percy, and that meant keeping him in the same house as long as Leona could afford it.
"Does that mean you'll come to the house for the two weeks? You'll give it a shot?"
She uncurled her fingers and handed him back the ring. "I'll come to the house. Ask me again in two weeks."
Byron hugged her fiercely. His one hand moved up and down her back while the other did the same on her thigh. She twisted against him because her one shoulder was being compressed by the strength of his embrace-but that brought her chest in contact with his. Her nipples-unencumbered by a bra and sensitized by the cool night air-responded with far more enthusiasm than was strictly proper.
He brushed her short hair back from her cheek and looked at her tenderly. "Whatever happens, I'm here for you. I'm here for the long haul. You know that, don't you?"
She desperately wanted to believe that, wanted to believe all the pretty promises he'd made her. But she didn't know if she could. Not yet, anyway. He was here for the long haul, for Percy, that she believed. After all, the Beaumonts always kept the kids. He'd never desert their son.
She just wished she could believe that he wouldn't desert her-again.
She should have already bought a pregnancy test, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Another unplanned pregnancy was something she didn't have time for and she'd made a conscious decision that she wasn't going to think about it until it became apparent one way or the other. She simply did not have the time or energy to waste on what-ifs at this point.
Something about the way he was rubbing her back shifted and instead of just stroking her, he was pushing her toward him. It wasn't as if there was a lot of distance between them to begin with-she was sitting on his lap-but every millimeter closer to his lips felt more intimate-more sexual-than it had before.
She knew she was going to kiss him. She knew she wanted him to kiss her back-wanted all the things that she hadn't allowed herself to dream of for the past year.
She wanted him. She always had. Even when he'd first asked her out and she knew exactly who he was and knew exactly why she should steer clear of him-she'd wanted him then.
There was only one problem.
"We can't," she breathed. "Percy-May..."
"Shh," he said in a gentle voice. His hand slid over the outside of her thigh and down the inside. "Let me take care of you."
His fingers dipped down, rubbing against the seam of her yoga pants until she jolted in his arms. "Byron..."
His other arm circled her waist even tighter, pinning her to him. A single finger moved down farther, testing and pressing lightly until she gasped when he hit just the right spot.
"Shh," he said again, rubbing small circles over that spot. "You have to be quiet, babe. Let me do this for you."
She tucked her lower lip under her teeth and nodded. With a wicked grin, Byron pressed harder.
Leona tried not to make a sound, but Byron used his chin to tilt her head back and then he was kissing his way down her cheek, her neck-right to that place below her ear that had always made her shiver with need, even before she'd been able to name what that need was.
She must have made a noise because the hand around her waist squeezed tighter and the hand between her legs stopped moving and Byron whispered against her skin, "Are you being quiet?"
She bit down even harder on her lip and nodded.
"If you can't be quiet," he went on, his words little louder than a breath, "I'll have to stop. Do you want me to stop?"
Before she could shake her head no, he scraped his teeth over that place. She managed to keep the moan locked down in the back of her throat, but there was no stopping the way her body shook for him.
She clutched at his forearm, the one that was moving against her. The muscles in his arms, thick and corded, moved under her hands. He'd always been so strong, moving with a coiled grace both in the kitchen and out of it. Whether he was handling his knives or handling her, he knew exactly what he was doing.