He takes her hand and gets down on one knee. Even though Aiden and I totally knew this was coming, she seems utterly shocked by it. Her eyes are big and teary and you can tell her heart has stopped beating. She’s holding her breath as he says, “Lisa Monterrey, will you marry me?”

Lisa cries instead of replies.

“Uh oh,” Aiden whispers. “Is she gonna say no?”

I shake my head, because it’s so obvious to me that she's going to say yes. She’s just overcome with emotion.

“Butterfly?” he says tentatively.

Lisa she throws her arms around him and sobs, “Yes. Yes. A million times, yes.”

“He forgot the ring,” Aiden whispers.

They kiss and then he pulls a ring box out of the jacket pocket he kept smoothing down earlier.

Inside is a glittering emerald-cut diamond. “It's beautiful,” she and I both whisper at the same time.

It’s a magical moment. I’ve seen people get engaged in the movies. But this is different. Their love feels so raw. So imperfectly perfect.

He slips it on her finger and they kiss.

I can't help it. I clap.

Lisa shows me the ring and hugs both Aiden and me.

“Congratulations,” I tell her.

Aiden says, “I could tell he was going to propose, so I recorded it for you. If you want it.”

“Really?” Lisa says, falling in love with Aiden in an instant. “Ohmigawd, I love you.” She lays a big kiss in his cheek. “I can't even remember what he said.”

“He said you are his world,” I whisper.

“That was amazing!” Aiden says as we’re getting back into the limo.

“I know! It was so romantic. Actually, that kiss in the elevator was pretty romantic too.”

He leans over and presses his lips into mine. Gentle at first, like always, then that slow buildup to when he slides his tongue in my mouth. How he likes to tease me with it. How I try to catch it so I can suck on it but how he always catches mine instead. How good it feels as his hands grip my bare shoulders. How I can’t believe we got dressed up just to go to the top of the Empire State Building.

“What’s next?” I ask.

He kisses me again in reply.

And then again and again.

“What do you want to do?”

I don’t answer, just stand up, stick my head out of the sunroof, and scream, “Whoooooooo!”

Aiden joins me immediately. He laughs and screams with me. Then he turns toward me and places both his hands on my waist. I stop moving and gaze into his eyes. It’s one of those moments where time feels like it stands still. The city is rushing by, the crowds are moving busily down the streets, the taxis are honking, but it feels like it’s just us.

It’s a beautiful, perfect moment.

“Let’s go dancing.”

“Dancing? Really?! That sounds fun! Where to?”

“I don’t really know any good clubs, do you?”

“Hmm. Let me make a quick call.”

I sit back in the limo and call Damian. “Hey, big favor. Do you think you could get me on the VIP list at Feel in New York City?”

“How many?”

“Just two.”

“Ooohhh.”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll have our manager call. He can get in anywhere. VIP. Two for Douglas.”

I cough. “Uh, Monroe.”

“Oh, shit. My bad. Monroe.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

I pull Aiden back in the car with me. “Why don’t you tell the driver to take us to Feel?”

“Feel?”

“Yeah, it’s a new club. I haven’t been, but I’ve heard it’s crazy.”

He pulls me on top of him and slides his tongue up the side of my neck. “Crazy sounds good.”

I respond by running my hands inside his suit jacket, from his hips up his tight torso, and to the top of his chest. Then I wrap an arm around his neck and run my fingers through his hair.

He lets out a little growl. “My hands are going to be all over you in the club. Feeling every bit of you.”

“Why do you think I picked that club?” I reply with a smirk.

We pull up in the limo, are escorted past the long entrance line, and allowed direct access to the lush VIP area. Complete with deep purple couches and a bird’s-eye view of the dancing going on below. You can feel the beat of the music, but the area is insulated so you can talk.

Aiden checks his jacket.

“Do you have a T-shirt on under your dress shirt?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

I move close to him and slowly unbutton his shirt.

“That’s pretty forward of you,” he says, his grin blazing.

“You’ll be way too hot in it. I’m being thoughtful.”

“You think I’m hot, huh?”

“Actually, yes. And I want to see those arm muscles when you’re dancing.”

He hands his shirt to the coat check girl, who is also admiring Aiden in his t-shirt. I put my hands on top of his shoulders, then slowly slide them down his arms, feeling every curve of muscle. He puts his forehead against mine and says, “Boots, I hope you’re planning to do that all night.”

I turn away from him and head toward the stairs to the dance floor. Looking back over my shoulder, I smirk and say, “Come find out.”

He catches up to me quickly and pulls me onto the dance floor, where he wraps his arm around my waist and moves his leg between mine.

I can already tell that this long gown is not going to work well for serious dancing. But it does have a long slit up the front. Maybe I could . . .

I speak loudly over the music. “Let me fix my dress.”

“Your dress is perfect,” he yells back. “You look gorgeous.”

“Well, now I wanna look hot. So back off for a second.”

He smiles at me, holds his hands up, and backs away. Just a little.

I reach down, grab each side of the hem, slowly scrunch the layers up, and then tie it into place at mid thigh.

I raise my eyebrows at Aiden to see what he thinks. He grabs my ass and pulls me closer. “Mission accomplished.”

We dance forever.

Sometimes fast, laughing, and making a spectacle of ourselves. Other times, slow and mellow. Always, his leg is between mine, radiating energy up my thighs.

Just his hands all over me and his leg between mine turn me on in ways no one else has. What is it about this boy? Why does he feel like my other half? How does he anticipate my moves before I know them myself?

The music is blaring. The crowd is hot and sweaty. Aiden pulls me closer and sways slowly with me. And his delicious lips find my neck.

I hold my arms up in the air and sway to the music while he bites me.

Teeny little adorably hot bites.

Somehow in between the bites, I feel his tongue on my neck too. I’m not even sure. I’m pretty sure he is a vampire.

But a special one.

One that doesn’t suck my blood with each bite. One that injects love potion or some sort of ecstasy type drug into my skin.

Apparently this is like the date in the play. The amazing, never-ending date.

After the club, we go out for breakfast at a total dive. I find out that he loves chicken and waffles, something I have never considered pairing together, and is a Southern thing.

And, I have to admit, damn good.

It’s nearly four in the morning by the time we get back to my loft.

“Bath or hot tub?” he asks me.

My mind races. Trying to script out scenarios. But it’s on overload and all that I can process is bathtub = naked. Hot tub = swimsuits.

“Bath tub?”

“That sounds nice. All that dancing, it will be nice for you to relax.”

“Me to relax? As in you’re not joining me?”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “Why did you choose a bath? Because you were hoping for nakedness?”

“Oh, uh, no. Of course not. I just, thought, I mean, we talked about a bath. I have bubbles.”

Ohmigawd. Am I ten? I have bubbles?

He gives me a sexy grin. “I like bubbles. Should we finish the champagne in there too?”

“Uh, yeah. Um, you do that and I’ll, um, be in my closet.”

I walk in my closet and jump up and down. I was starting to get tired, but now my body is racing with energy and adrenaline. I want to run through the house singing, I’m going to have sex with the hottie god. I’m going to have sex . . . Shit. I’m going to have sex with him? Do I want to?