Jett’s eyes open and I’m close enough to the stage to see the tears there. He seems to hesitate for a moment, but then he smiles and raises his arm in a fist pump. And then he pulls a rock star move if ever I’ve seen one. He’s at a charity dinner where good manners and good social etiquette are the norm. He’s already sworn once but I know he wouldn’t care about that even though he did tell me on the way here that he was going to try and behave. Obviously, he’s thrown all those ideas out the window and is completely in the moment because when he does his fist pump, he yells out, “Fuck cancer!” But in true Jett form, he’s managed to charm his way into the hearts of the people here tonight and they cheer even louder and many of them copy him.

His eyes come to mine and he smiles. I shake my head at him but give him a fist pump back and yell out, “Fuck cancer!”

West leads the band into their next song and they spend the next twenty minutes performing. I love watching my man on stage. I’ve got no idea where Crave will end up, but I know Jett was born for this, so, either way, he’ll spend the rest of his life performing. And I plan on being by his side.

When they finish, Jett looks at me and beckons me with his finger. Desire is written on his face and I’m more than turned on after watching him perform, so I go to him.

He jumps off the stage and pulls me to him. “Do you know how fucking sexy you look tonight in that dress?”

“Well, you did choose this dress, so I hope it’s doing it for you,” I tease him. He insisted on choosing my outfit and of course he chose a floor length dress. But I’ve got to give him credit; he chose a stunning black sleeveless dress that I won’t hesitate to wear again. And he also insisted I wear my hair the same way I had it styled for the red carpet event we attended in LA. He loved the way the hairdresser curled my hair and pinned it into an upstyle, particularly because it left my neck exposed to him.

“Do you know what’s turning me on the most?” he asks.

“Jett, your parents are just over there so I hope you’re not about to get your cock out and wave it around.”

He chuckles and moves his hand to his belt. “I could if you want.”

I slap my hand over his and drag it away from his pants. Fuck, boys will always be boys. Raising my brows at him, I ask, “Are you going to behave for the rest of the night?”

“Yeah, but only if you agree to something.” There’s a cheeky glint in his eyes that scares me. He’s up to something.

“I’ve just spent all that time on stage watching you while performing and all I could think about was how much I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That’s what turned me on the most.” He pauses and the cheeky glint in his eyes is replaced by a look of complete adoration that causes my heart to speed up. “Marry me, Presley.”

I stare at him in surprise. It’s a good surprise, but he’s totally stunned me with this.

When no words fall from my mouth he says, “I know you’re still technically married, so we’d have to wait, but I want this ring on your finger now.” He pulls out a ring box and opens it to reveal a gorgeous engagement ring. It’s a stunning diamond with a band of channel set diamonds. So much glittery light shining in my face and my tummy flutters.

“It’s beautiful,” I say softly. He’s taken my breath away with his proposal and I’m having trouble forming cohesive words.

He tilts my chin to look in my eyes. “Is that a yes, sweetheart?”

Everything we’ve been through flashes in my mind. We’ve only known each other a short time but we’ve been through so much already. And I know deep in my bones that I want to spend eternity with him. Nodding, I smile at him, and say, “Yes, that’s a yes.”

He slips the ring on my finger and murmurs, “Jesus, you know how to make a man work for it, baby. I was a little concerned you were gonna say no just then.”

I slide my hand around his neck and pull his lips to mine so I can kiss him. “You should know by now that it’s not possible for me to say no to you.”

“That’s a good thing because it seems I keep fucking things up.”

I’m not sure what he’s referring to. “What have you fucked up now?”

“I had it planned to propose to you later. I’ve organised for a horse and carriage to pick us up and I was going to do the romantic thing for you, but fuck, I couldn’t wait any longer.” He pulls me in for another kiss and then says gruffly, “You have that effect on me.”

I love that because he has the same effect on me. “You haven’t fucked anything up, Jett.”

Smiling the smile that caught my attention the first time we met in that club, he says, “Thank fuck, because I want you to be the one I get to wake up with every morning, and the one I get to cook Sunday breakfasts for, and the one I get to argue with over domestic shit, and the one I drag along to boring ass things you’re not interested in, and the one who makes me sit through your shopping trips, and the one I get to make love to for the rest of our lives, and the one who has my babies. I want you to be my everything.”

I smile through my tears. “I want that, too.”

His lips come to mine again and he kisses me long and deep, and when he is done, he raises his arm with another fist pump. “Fuck yes!” he yells out.

Shaking my head, I laugh. “I do love you, Mr. Rockstar.”