By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

Kingston is nervous.

I was suspicious of him the second I stepped out of the bedroom and saw the set of his shoulders as he stared out of the window, the way his entire body flinched when I first spoke. But the second he turned around and I saw the slight frown on his brow and the unease in his eyes, I knew.

It made my stomach bottom out.

If a man as powerful and sure of himself as Kingston Callahan is nervous, what the hell does that mean for me?

I take a sip of my drink, the bubbles exploding against my tongue before the cool champagne slides down my throat.

It’s good. Really good.

Not that I’m surprised. This is Kingston I’m standing in front of. He wouldn’t have anything but the best.

“Come on,” he says, sliding his hand into mine and pulling me toward the door that leads to our deck.

Fairy lights are strung up everywhere, illuminating our little slice of heaven along with flickering candles.

It’s incredible. Way more than I would have thought he was capable of in the romance department.

He leads me over to the table. It’s set for two, and after placing the bottle of champagne in the ice bucket, he pulls out my chair for me.

“Who knew you could be such a gentleman,” I tease as I take a seat.

“I have plenty of talents that you’ve yet to discover, Tatum,” he says in a deep, rumbling voice that makes tingles shoot around my body.

I’m strung as tightly as a fucking bow.

Lying in that bath, the temptation to deal with the situation myself was strong, especially when he decided to gate-crash and give me a little show.

Fuck. That was hot.

Not as hot as last night, though. That was next level.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he says before abandoning his glass and heading back inside.

As soon as he appears in my vision through the window, my eyes lock on him and I watch as he pulls something from the oven.

He’s dressed in dark gray dress pants that hug his ass and thick thighs in the most delicious way, and a simple white button-down that’s undone one too many buttons to be professional with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

His hair is messy, like he ran his fingers through it after his shower and hasn’t bothered touching it again since, and he’s got the perfect amount of stubble on his chin.

I bet it would feel incredible between my thighs…Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

I shake my head, trying to force it out of the gutter.

It’s getting harder and harder to do the more time I spend with him.

He turns around to place the baking tray on the side, and he looks up before I have a chance to avert my gaze.

My breath catches as chemistry crackles between us.

His lips twitch as he discovers I’m watching him before they pull into the most incredible smile.

This is the real Kingston Callahan. The one not many other people get to see.

He makes quick work of dishing up our dinner before striding back toward me.

“Wow, that looks amazing,” I say when he lowers a chicken dish before me. “And it smells⁠—”

“Not as good as you,” he says, cutting me off as he takes his seat opposite me. “See, being stuck with me isn’t so bad, is it?”

“The night is still young, Kingston,” I tease as I lift my knife and fork, cutting into my chicken to find a creamy sauce inside.

He barely moves an inch as I lift the fork to my lips.

His eyes drop to my mouth and he watches, enthralled as I take the piece of chicken and chew.

Oh my god.

I’m pretty sure my eyes roll back, it’s so good.

“Fuck,” he breathes, shifting a little in his seat.

I lick my lips, making the most of having his heated stare on me.

“Eat,” I say. “It’s so good.”

His eyes jump between mine and my lips before he mimics my move, sweeping his tongue across his bottom lip before murmuring, “What’s on my plate isn’t what I’m craving.”

How I don’t drop my knife and fork on the table, lie back, and offer myself up for his dinner, I don’t know.

“Do those lines actually work for you?” I ask innocently.

“They sure do. And they’re working like a charm right now.”

“Pfft. So full of yourself.”

“I’d rather fill you.”

“King,” I warn, trying to discreetly rub my thighs together under the table.

His eyes drop and my cheeks blaze.

He knows.

Finally, he picks up his cutlery and begins eating.

I do the same but it’s hard to focus on the delicious food with the air so thick with tension around us.

“Dessert?” he asks once I’ve placed my knife and fork together on my plate.

My eyes drop from his in favor of his body.

I can’t really see any of it with the table between us, but I’ve seen enough now to be able to use my imagination.

“Not yet,” I say before picking up my champagne and draining the glass.

It’s my second, and I can already feel the buzz in my veins.

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” he says.

After abandoning the dirty plates inside, he returns and leaves the door to the cabin open, letting soft music spill out into the night.

I expect him to retake his seat, to continue to drive me crazy with his dirty talk and dark, hungry eyes.

I’m torn between thinking he’s winding me up for his own amusement, or building me high so that when we finally collide, it’s mind-blowing.

The devil on my shoulder is hoping for the latter, while the angel who tries to keep me on the right track is trying to convince me that it’s the former.

It’s the simplest way to handle this…transaction.

It may be the simplest, but if I’m being honest with myself, it isn’t what I want.

But he doesn’t make it to his side of the table. Instead, he stops in front of me and holds his hand out.

“If you think I’m going hiking now, you really need to reconsid⁠—”

“Dance with me.”

“W-what?” I stutter, blindsided by his question.

“Dance with me,” he repeats, holding strong.

“Uh…okay,” I whisper, placing my hand in his much larger one, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

With my heels on, there is less of a height difference between us, but he’s still a head taller than me.

With my chin tipped back, I keep my eyes on his as he pulls me into his body and slides his hands down my back, stopping just before the swell of my ass.

My body aches for him, and when he presses me against him, I discover that I’m not the only one.

He’s hard and ready. All he needs to do is break through whatever keeps holding him back and we can finally shatter this tension between us.

If we stand any chance of getting out of this shitshow with our sanity intact, then we need to do this. It needs to happen.

My heart threatens to pound out of my chest as we begin to move together. It’s slow and sensual, and way, way too much, considering who I am dancing with.

My head screams for me to take a step back and put a stop to where this is heading, but my body…my body is desperate for more, for this powerful connection that is only getting stronger and stronger as the seconds go on.

The music continues and the light breeze blows around us, but I’m nowhere close to being cold while I’m in his embrace.

Resting my cheek against his chest, I close my eyes as I focus on the steady beat of his heart.

It’s racing as fast as mine.

As if we’re no longer two people but one.

“Tatum,” he whispers before his lips press against the top of my head.

Desire unfurls in my stomach.

I want to feel those lips in so many other places, but I refuse to ask. I’ve already shown my hand one too many times regarding what I want from him.

If tonight is the night we take things to the next level, then he’s going to need to be the one to make the first move.

And if that happens, all I have to do is hope that he can see it through to the end. I can’t do another night where he pulls back at the last minute.

My palms slide up his back, loving the way his muscles ripple with my touch, before I drag my nails back down.

He groans the most erotic noise I’ve ever heard before his hand slips lower.

I gasp when he squeezes my ass just hard enough to hurt in the best kind of way.

Pulling my cheek from his chest, I look up at him.

His eyes are dark, his expression tight.

“King?” I whisper, my heart suddenly racing for a whole other reason.

He looks like he’s freaking out.

Fuck. He’s going to⁠—

“No,” I cry when he releases me and takes a step back. “No, don’t do this.”

I don’t mean for the pleading words to break free. But they do, and they hang heavy in the air between us.

His chest heaves as he stares at me as if he’s just seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper, unsure if I should be hanging around to watch this or running for cover.

A man like Kingston doesn’t show vulnerability lightly, and when he realizes the kind of top-level freakout he seems to be having right now, I’m not sure I want to be the one in the firing line as he tries to assert his dominance again…or maybe I do.

Fuck. This man is so fucking confusing.

I take a step back, unaware that I’ve decided that the best course of action here is to retreat.

He’s frozen in place, his eyes locked on me.

“I’m just gonna⁠—”

“Wait,” he commands, the power in his voice at odds with his behavior.

“Uh…okay. I-I’m not sure—oh my god.” I gasp as he suddenly sinks to the floor and… to one knee.

Time doesn’t just stop.

It totally fucking freezes.

I stop breathing and all of my senses refuse to cooperate as he slowly reaches for the railing, revealing a small black box.

My hands tremble as he brings it to a stop between us.

I can’t look at it. I can’t rip my eyes away from his as he gazes up at me.

Awe.

I’m pretty sure that’s what I can see in his expression.

But why?

This isn’t real.

He isn’t seriously asking me to marry him.

Well, he is…kinda.

But…it’s not real.

He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t want to spend his life with me.

I’m not the one.

I’m just the one who’ll help him hit the next high with Callahan Enterprises.

He only wants me for the next twelve months so he can get what he wants.

So I can get what I want…

Suddenly, none of that seems quite so important as it did only a few minutes ago.

With him down there and holding a ring, it suddenly all seems very real.

Marriage.

A year.

I’m going to be a wife to a man I’m not sure I even like.

My breathing begins to get erratic as a million and one thoughts race through my head.

What the hell am I doing?

What the hell have I agreed to?

“Tatum,” he says, his voice surer than it was a few moments ago.

He’s found some composure now that he’s done what he needed to do.

I kick myself for not figuring it out the second I stepped out of the bedroom. I expected it to happen last night in front of everyone. I thought it had to be public. I never even considered⁠—

“Will you marry me?”