Page 27 of Staking His Claim
“I want to marry you, Fletcher. I really do.” He exhaled but remained alert, poised to cross-examine the hell out of my case. “But two weeks isn’t enough time. I mean, that’s how long it takes to get a license, isn’t it? And then there’s organizing things. We haven’t even told my parents. Or your fam?—”
His fingers brushing against my mouth shut me up.
“I have a contact at the courthouse who will expedite the license. Your parents are joining us for dinner tomorrow night. I intend to ask your father then. And I mean no disrespect but unless it’s a deal-breaker for you, it’s immaterial whether he gives us his blessing or not. I’m fucking marrying you in two weeks.
“I have a team on standby to help our moms get everything into gear. Yours can be as involved as she wants. I know mine will be thrilled to be given the task. She’s never forgiven me for getting hitched on a near-stranger’s porch on a drunken weekend the first time.”
I was secretly glad when his face didn’t spasm with bitterness when he referred to his first marriage this time.
Sure, it’d only been three days but already it felt like a distant memory. And since I was equally feral about anyone having a claim on my man, even via a past entanglement, I was thrilled when his heated gaze caught mine, free of pain and bitterness.
“What other objections do I need to bat away?” he demanded.
The thought that two weeks from now I would be Mrs. Fletcher Knight sparked emotional fireworks inside me. I was over my shock and smiling as I slid my arms around his neck. “None, Mr. Knight. None at all. Let’s do it.”
He exhaled noisily and I realized how much he’d tensed up with worry. It made me love him even more.
“Good. I fucking love you,” he growled against my mouth.
“You took the words right out of my mouth, Mr. Knight.”
“It’s Professor Knight. For the next hour at least. Understood, Miss Hartley?
Pure joy and filthy anticipation zipped through me. “Yes, sir.”
“Ready?”
The elevator doors opened on Monday morning, ready to spit us out.
But Fletcher waited, his eyes pinned on mine.
A few feet away, associates, interns and other staff members buzzed around, no clue that their managing partner and his paralegal were about to serve up salacious gossip on a silver platter.
I swallowed.
Here goes nothing.
There was zero evidence that we did anything wrong before Fletcher was officially divorced so people could say what they wanted.
His thumb caressed my cheek, stopped me from spiraling.
“Remember, what I said. If any fucking imbeciles look at you or say something out of line, you give me their names.”
The next couple of weeks would be challenging enough without attracting more negative attention. “I told you, Mr. Knight. I’m no snitch.”
“Emily—”
“I’m ready. And I’ll be fine.”
“No,we’llbe fine. We’re together now. Don’t make me remind you again.”
“No, sir,” I murmured, and his eyes flared with that feral light before he blew out a breath.
“The only problem I foresee today and every day from now is how the fuck I can keep my hands off you when we’re at work.” His fingers tightened around mine. “Come on,” he all but growled.
Somehow, we managed to make it almost to his office before our change in status was spotted.
It probably had something to do with Fletcher’s large, imposing body almost blocking out mine even though I was next to him. And also because most people were awed by his presence and saw nothing else.
