AARON WALLACE'S POV

She was immobile, hesitant to move, her ethereal eyes taking in the place as if she were intimidated.

"Make yourself at home," I tell her, and she smiles agreeably, but then continues twisting her ring around her finger. She's next to me, easily reachable. I step back, going behind her to help with her sweater.

She's attentive, her slender fingers swiftly come up to my hands above her shoulders, but without much effort, it's mainly a brush over hands. I drink in the scent of her hair; it's as seductive as she is desirable.

"You don't need it; we are alone now," I partly close my eyes, reminding her. She folds her fingers and drops them to her sides, letting me slip off the cover against her exquisite delicate skin, revealing the marks of my kisses on her shoulder and neck that had been hiding. She looks even hotter with those on her.

I feel her shiver, maybe she is freezing.

"The temperature is set to my preference; you can adjust it. The remote control is down there on the coffee table," I say, stepping away from her with the sweater folded in my hands, careful not to follow my intuitions telling me it's okay to take her to my bed right now. I'm not repeating that same mistake. God knows I want her, but I need her to relax and adjust to my atmosphere first.

"I think it's cool," she says, facing me as I walk deeper into my space to the first seater sets, placing the sweater on the L-shaped sofa.

"You didn't have anything at breakfast, so what will you eat?" What is it, 3 pm? I roll up my sleeves and head to the kitchen.

"Uhm—," she says, following me indecisively, yet there's zeal in her eyes and posture.

Watching her only adds to the torment in my every nerve. So, I busy myself with grabbing fresh groceries from the refrigerator that the boys restocked as I ordered last night.

"I will warn you, though; I am a terrible cook. But I can make steaks better," I admit as I grab the steak from the freezer.

"Okay!" she giggles, the sound a heavenly melody, making me smile as I go about the kitchen. "Uhm... Can I use the restroom, please?" she asks.

"Yeah, my room is down there," I point to the path behind her. She draws a breath with a cute smile on her gorgeous face, whispering an unneeded thank you before taking a turn.

I understand all this is overwhelming for her: getting a ring from a man who was a coward when she needed him, she'll never ever trust, and having to go through the traditional discrimination acrimony of his family. I knew it was bound to happen the instant I showed her off to them in the same atmosphere. I had only planned to be alone with her today somewhere like this city, but I couldn't decline Grandpa's request to meet her; only he approved of her in the family, and I needed his solidarity.

Seasoning two steaks, I set them into the oven first; it's the easier task. Preparing meat has been something all the men in my family excel at; we often had family barbecues growing up, so that might have helped. Now that the steaks are in low heat, I scroll through YouTube on the tablet on the worktop facing me and find some mashed potatoes and mushroom stew recipes.

Perfect. I bring out everything needed as the video suggests and spew them on the island for easier reach, including a bottle of red wine and two cups, pouring for myself and Lively, for refreshment.

"Peel two large potatoes," the woman says in the speaker. I do that, cut them into chunks, place them into the pot, add salt, and turn on the stove. I proceed to mushroom stew while the potatoes cook, slicing all the needed ingredients, and then a distracting notification banner comes up on the screen from my bathroom. I set down the knife.

Tempting... my hands ache to press on the live video.

"Do not! Do not!" I inwardly repeat to myself, rubbing my forehead from the mental conflict. For goodness! I fucking have garlic in my hands.

Guilt and desire both test my self-control. This is chaos.

Screw it. God forgive me. I tap on the video.

Lively isn't naked, so I guess I'm not crossing so much line. She's staring at herself in the mirror, tracing the red marks on her neck and shoulders; she clearly is embarrassed by them. Her red lips part; she's breathing through them. Her eyes close, her lashes resting on her cheeks enthrallingly.

I wonder what's going on in her mind, but what my eyes can witness from here is her portrayal of sensuality, her puffy lips so fucking sexy. I wouldn't mind making new marks on her velvety skin, places she covered in that little adorable summer dress.

My heart starts pulsating at an agonizing rate, spreading warmth through my veins. My pants are fucking swelling. I should tear my eyes from the screen before my tingling hardness cums in my pants right now, but it's just easier thought than done; my whole focus is on her on the screen, she is mesmerizing. She bites her juicy bottom lip, causing hell to break loose in the pit of my stomach. I grab the edges of the island for support; my muscles are tensed. My breathing quickens and hots as I exhale.

"Okay!" she mumbles and turns for the door.

Shit!

Panic, my fingers fumble with the screen, quickly switching back to the mushroom stew recipe video before she reappears and catches me being a psycho. I don't think she'll be comfortable with that.

Look at me, pathetically stalking a woman. What's gone through me?

Rubbing my eyes, I grab my wine cup to take a sip and spin around to smoke everywhere.

What the fuck?

I know I followed everything accordingly; I don't know how this happened.

"What is happening?" I hear Lively's voice, and I turn to her, blushing.

Way to impress a girl.

"I swear I followed every rule in the video," I point at the tablet. The woman clearly mustn't know what she was doing either; she led me to failure.

Lively's lips twitch as she tries to fight the smile at the corners of them but then burst into laughter.

Great!

"Now that's not a good feeling, being laughed at," I remarked as I walked out of the kitchen. She held out her hands, shaking them in objection while struggling to control her laughter.

"I am not laughing, I promise," she insisted, wanting to decieve me from the obvious.

"Here," I handed over the glass of wine, and she collected it, stifling her smile, her face flushed. "You are cruel," I playfully whispered.

"I wasn't laughing at you. I was just—" She cracked, covering her face with her hand.

"Lively!"

"Mister Wallace," someone said while I was about to sweep her off the ground and tickle her until she stopped bullying me.

I looked in the direction of the foyer, where my men stood. They were definitely here due to the smoke alarm.

"We are fine," I assured them, and Greg went to set up the ventilation system to clear the air.

"I can cook," Lively offered as I walked over to her with my hand in my pocket and the other placed on the small of her back.

"No, you shouldn't be standing on an empty stomach," I replied. I couldn't have her going about the kitchen in this condition.

"Aaron, what do you mean, I can do it," she started arguing. I kissed her temple, ending the idea. "Allen, have the restaurant come over and decorate the table with everything on the menu."

"Right away, Mister Wallace."

"Everything on the menu? Really, I can cook?" Lively protested, and I looked down at her, bringing out my hand and tenderly pinching her rosy cheek.

"I brought you over so I can take care of you, so it's on me. Next time you cook," I made a fair deal, and she nodded embarrassedly.

The atmosphere was now clear and fresh as usual. Greg walked out of the kitchen to join Allen. As I turned, I realized I hadn't introduced Lively to them so they would know how to behave toward her.

"Also, I forgot. This is Lively Kelby, my fiancee," I told the boys.

"Congratulations, Missus Kelby, Mister Wallace," they said and proceeded to introduce themselves to the girl snuggling into me, smiling politely in response and holding her almost finished glass of wine. I think she had enough for today. I need her sober.

"I will take a shower before the food is ready if you do not need anything," I asked her, and she shook her head.

After burning in the kitchen for her, then dealing with the smoke and the garlic, I felt dirty and tense. I needed a cold shower.

"Alright, you know where I am if you need me," I said, navigating to my bedroom, the largest in the penthouse and the only one on this floor; the rest were upstairs.

The shower didn't take long. I got cleaned up, wrapped a towel around my waist, and took two capsules of my medication from the first aid box before emerging from the bathroom.

My eyes found those innocent leafy eyes, and they swiftly averted from me. Lively's face paled, and she quickly got up from the armchair she was resting on, wriggling her fingers and rushing to the entrance. "I—uhm—I thought I should stay here; it was too quiet out there," she fumbled with her words.

"So why are you leaving?"

Her lips parted, but she didn't say anything. She wouldn't look over either.

"You need to be free around me, baby. At some point, we will see each other naked. And I plan for it to be today," I went on, laying it bare, and I saw her swallow, her lips pressing into a hard line. It was the hottest thing to witness.

She didn't say anything, so I left her to digest it and went to get ready in the dressing room.

I put on casual light wash jeans pants and a white T-shirt, dried and arranged my hair, applied some perfume, and walked out to find her still by the entrance, doing that unlawful chewing her bottom lip thing.

Her eyes lifted from below her lashes, meeting me approaching her; they were something else to put a man under a spell. I didn't stop until her small waist was in my hand. She rested her hands on her chest, and she shyly smiled, taking her lips between her teeth.

"Stop teasing me, Lively. We are alone, and I am trying so damn hard to be a gentleman, and not to rip this gown holding your chest that I am jealous of, before feeding you," I grumbled in her face, and she peeked up at me with round eyes.

Fuck it.

"Come here," I grabbed her nape, holding her in place, and took that sweet bottom lip in my mouth. She was like food, my last one. I devoured her with great appetite and longing for more. Her tongue was warm and sleek; she was getting good at using it more than the last time I kissed her at the country club. Her hand placement too, I felt their fingers around my jaw, my ear, and into my hair, tugging lightly.

My mind wrestled with what to do; on the other hand, my body was well aware of what it wanted. My legs started forward, having Lively back away until we reached the bed. She moaned when I paused the kiss briefly, and I lowered a little and curled my hands under her thighs, picking her up around me and settling in the bed with her straddling me. She reclaimed my lips, holding the side of my face. Her silent panting came in a shudder in my mouth, as her body slightly trembled over me while she tried to restrain her crotch occasionally rocking against my aching, swelled erection.

I angled her head, exposing her pretty neck, and took a taste of her skin. She let out an unmuffled cry and grabbed the side of my torso, and my whole body contracted at the strain of her touch and the pleasing sound she made.

Fuck, I need her naked; I need to see what my touch could do to her.

"Mister Wallace, the table is set and ready," the alert came through the intercom systems, and as much as I wanted to proceed with this because I was as hard as a rock, as I inhaled the girl my heart was beating so fast for, I knew she needed to eat.

A small laugh left me, and I paused, giving her head a light nudge with mine.

"Let's have you eat, and we will have the rest of the day to finish this," I told her, and her eyes closed, but she nodded without disagreement.

Hand in hand, we left the room. And as I demanded, the fourteen-seater table was filled with all varieties of food. Greg and Allen nodded at our arrival and dismissed themselves.

I pulled my fiancee—God, it felt good to think about—I guided her to the seat next to mine and pulled out a chair for her to settled in. I wouldn't want her any further; it's not like I am even okay not having her naked against me right now.

"Aaron, this is crazy. We can't—we can't finish all these," she muttered, scanning the table with a surprised gaze.

"But you'd find what you like among them. I do not know what your favorite food is."

She giggles and grabs my hand, pulling me away from serving. "I think we should start getting to know each other sooner, so this doesn't have to keep happening again," she says, blushing as she urges me to sit. "I'll just start with what's in front of me, you don't have to worry."

I smile and grab a bottle of champagne to serve us instead. Her portion was little.

"What are these things? I've never known any of them. These could feed my entire neighborhood," she chuckles, astounded. The last part is mostly to herself, and so it occurs to me that when we're done, I'll tell the boys to package the leftovers and feed the homeless.

"Believe me, you know some; it's all perfect dressing to decieve, that's all," I tell her. She digs into the first tray of food in front of her, and her first impression is a moan that almost chokes me on chicken.

"What is this? It's so good?" she gasps at me, shoving another spoonful into her mouth. She's cute; I can only laugh.

"From now on, Keenan will take you to and from the club," I inform her. I've thought about it for a while ever since he told me she paddles a bicycle. It's just not safe, and my pride can't take it. She'll soon be a Wallace, so some adjustments in her life are necessary.

She slows her chewing and tilts her head to me, "That is not necessary."

I tuck back her hair, revealing more of her face. "It is for me."

She calmly studies my eyes beyond the appropriate human span before simply replying, "Okay," and taking a sip of water contentedly. She radiates a serenity one never wants to lose.

I take my eyes off her and go back to eating.

"How did you learn to fly?" she asks.

"I studied aviation," I answer.

"Really?" Her eyes widen, and she sets down the tableware she was holding. "I had always thought, what happened to football? If I remember correctly, you were good at it. Unless it was just a hobby like golfing?" she curiously asks, but one thing she says piques my mind.

"You always thought?" She's been looking me up this whole time?

Her eyes run from me, letting her hair flow to her sides to hide her crimson face behind it.

"If you'd gone pro, the whole town would talk about it; that was it," she defends, but a strong lie is dripping from it.

I let it slide.

"When you're a Wallace, you all have certain duties and responsibilities to commit to. Since birth, I was chosen to run the aviation industry of the family business so..." I pause to take a breath, and she finishes my sentence, "...you don't get to choose your major," she says it almost quietly, you wouldn't hear her, but enough for me to distinct.

I nod, and she frowns.

"Are you happy with that principle?" she asks, concerned.

What I know is that it is not in my elegance to run alongside ambitious strivers from middle-class citizens, Benard, Dad, and Grandpa had said.

"I love to fly," I honestly answer, and her face smooths.

"You fly commercial?" Her eyes widen, hoping I say yes.

I chew back the smile. "No, but I will be your personal pilot often," I assure her and grab her hand with the ring to kiss.

She smiles.

We've spent about two hours at the dining table; it's past 5 already, and Lively has eaten quite a lot, and now it's dessert.

"So you'd already planned the engagement when you invited me to the lake house?" she asks, with her head leaning on her palm as she watches me.

"No, it was a surprise, just like it was to you," I say candidly. Nothing in this family stays a secret, so I honestly admit, and her pupils dilate. "Not a surprise to be engaged to you. Truthfully, up until a few days ago, I might have crossed out wanting a life partner. But when I met you again, I immediately knew that if I ever wanted to be married, it was to you. So even if we hadn't gotten grandma's ring, I would have gotten you the biggest rock to be around your finger and brand you mine this time, which I failed to do the other season," I tell her, and she smiles lopsidedly.

So when Grandpa handed me the ring, I knew there was no 'too fast' when it comes to Lively. The immediate fear of losing her flashed before my eyes, and I acknowledged that she was the best thing that I would ever have in my life. I knew I could marry her right there if she'd agree.

Her smile fades, "You didn't want to marry before?" A wrinkle gathers on her forehead.

"I had nothing to offer anyone,"

"Why would you say that? Look at you. Who wouldn't want you?" she chuckles softly, unbelievably.

"You only know me by what's easy to see."

"Then why do you believe you have something to offer me?"

"I don't," I confess, silently pleading as I take her hand, lacing our fingers. Hers are so soft and small. I hope she'll accept me even though I have nothing to give her. "It's just that you're the only woman I want to spend the rest of my days with, and the only one I need to right my wrongs with. And it's not even because I feel it's right, which I know it is, but because I need you to maintain my survival momentum, it could be my penalty."

Her eyes are wet; she stares at me distantly, "Aaron..." she stops, her voice croaky.

My body aches for her.

"You say you're mine. That you've been mine." No man ever touched her, since she was tainted by me.

"I never wanted anyone," she breathes, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Why was that?"

She smiles faintly and sweeps her tongue over her lips, moistening them. "Because—because you scarred me," she falters, her hand slightly shaking in mine. "I couldn't find you in anyone else, nor could anyone find me in myself; you drowned me in imperfection."

For my sake, I like that, but I have to tell her what's true. She is the most desirable woman I've ever set my eyes on in this universe; who wouldn't want her?

"Nonsense, you pulled yourself out; you are immaculate."

"You do not know," she laughs, and a tear leaves her eye; she wipes it away instantly before I can reach, so I take her other hand too.

"I know that you are the strongest woman I have ever known. I messed you up, and you're even more pulled together than I can say about myself."

She shakes her head, and I tug her over, getting her off the chair and coming between my legs.

"You have no idea how it feels inside to have you, what it's like to which I regard you. You are more than anything to me, I swear," I promise, and she slips her hands from my mine, taking my face and placing a passionate kiss on my lips until I taste her tears. My hands go to her waist.

"I want you but—" she lowers her head.

"But what?"

"It has to be in the dark. At night,"

I don't understand.

"Why?"

"I—" She swallows, mortified. "I don't want you to see me."

"What's wrong with that?" I think she's the most beautiful woman. I want all of her.

"Please, Aaron, do not persist," she begs, looking into my eyes. Right there, I know I can give her whatever she wants. If it's privacy she requires, so be it, until she says otherwise.

An idea comes to my mind. "If I tell you I have an alternative, will you take it?"

"What's your alternative?" Her smile returns.

I get up and grab her hand. "Come with me."

"Aaron, we're going to your bedroom," she laughs fearfully.

She shouldn't have to.

"Baby, I'll never coax you to do something you're not comfortable with," I assure her as I halt us in the hall towards the master bedroom. She nods once, trust in her eyes. It's good to know. "Let me show you something."

When we reach the room, I close the door behind us, and I hear her sharp breath. I press dark mode on the touch screen on the wall, and the blinds start rolling down the glass windows and doors, followed by the curtains too. When they're fully closed and the room is dim, I tap on and turn off the lights, and the room goes pitch black.

"What about now? Will you let me have you?"

She gasps in the silence, and I feel a hand slide under my T-shirt. My torso flinches at the goodness of her touch.

"Please do, Aaron," she heavily pants.