"I'm getting engaged tomorrow."

Padma could've withered under Ginny's confused glare. After her accidental call with Bastien and Parvati, she rushed over to the Potter house because Ginny was the only person she trusted to put the world right-side up again.

"Sorry?"

"I've met someone."

"And you didn't tell me?!" Ginny asked, offended. "Is it a woman? Is that why—"

"No, no, he's a man." Padma flashed back to those photographs of him splashed across the front page of her Google search. "Definitely a man. We met on Tuesday and he will ask me to marry him tomorrow."

Ginny frowned.

"He's proposing to you tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"After five days?"

"Correct."

"Padma," Ginny sat forward a bit in her chair, "I know you considered having your parents set you up with someone, but there are so many men out there. If you really want a husband, we can find you a man worthy of your time. I'd do far better than your parents."

"My parents didn't set us up, we met on the street. He is a fan of yours, actually."

"Oh?" Ginny seemed impressed. "Seriously?"

"He's a pharmacist, his name is Bastien, and he is best mates with Blaise Zabini. Since you're close to Blaise, I figured you might have heard of him."

"No, but I'll ask about him."

"Bastien got my parents' permission to marry me. He has invited me for dinner tomorrow where he will officially ask me to marry him. I plan to say yes."

"Hell yeah! I trust you not to do anything stupid, Padma. We need more Ginny Potter football fans in the group, anyway." She wondered, "Is he good-looking?"

Padma sent Ginny the link to Bastien's Instagram profile and waited until …

"He's fucking fit as hell, Padma! My God, he's into boxing? Look at this photo from several months back where he's covered in blood and bruises and—"

"I thought it was hot." Padma blushed as Ginny turned the phone toward her. "I didn't realize I was into that until I saw the photograph. His arms are massive."

"I see that." Ginny looked down at her phone and sighed. "He's got loads of photos of him with Blaise. Here, let me—"

Ginny dialed Blaise, who answered almost immediately.

"Do you know a woman named Padma Patil? My friend just told me he is about to be engaged to a woman none of us have met."

Ginny raised her eyebrows and stole a glance at Padma before replying.

"Padma is my best friend, and I phoned you because I've never met Bastien."

"You have. He is the tall one with Draco when I invite them to the VIP box."

Ginny's eyes lit up.

"Oh! God, he's always nervous to talk to me. That's him? He's fucking huge!"

Padma mouthed, I told you! Zabini continued,

"Bas is properly in love with this woman. He spoke to me for a half hour on the phone just now, telling me how excited he is to be with her. Bas has no understanding for how this looks to the rest of us. I am nervous for him."

"I can tell. You rarely string three sentences together."

"I cannot tell whether he's never been in love before so he thinks this is permanent when it may not be, or if he has bided his time so long that he saw the proper woman and knew she was the one."

"What does Malfoy think?" asked Ginny.

"Bas doesn't wish to tell him. He thinks Draco is too fragile, and I agree."

"I like the two of them together, though."

"What is she like?" asked Blaise.

"Padma?" Ginny laughed. "She is the only person I know who could match you in self-confidence."

"Oh?"

"Career-driven, traveler, gorgeous as hell … You know, the rich aunty sort."

Padma mouthed, Rich aunty? Ginny nodded and mouthed back, Oh, yeah.

"Bas, Theo, and I are going shopping for the engagement ring tomorrow morning. He plans to propose at dinner, and I am meant to help him with the preparation because he wants to make the perfect meal."

"D'you know what?" Ginny suggested, "Can I come with? I'll bring her sister, Parvati. We can meet Bastien officially and make sure he doesn't select something Padma will hate."

"Yes."

"Padma wants a nice ring, too. Big one."

"He will likely spend a year's wage on it. He has saved for a long time because he does not want to be a father, so this is the largest, most meaningful investment he will make for their relationship."

Ginny said, "I would expect that would be a house."

"I am buying his house."

Padma's mouth fell open. Fortunately, Ginny verbalized the confusion in Padma's head.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"Years ago, when I bought my house, I did it because I believed Draco and I would be married. We would be together and needed a house, one without his heterosexual legacy hanging over it. That legacy has always been a heavy weight for him to bear. Bastien thought purchasing the house was far too large a commitment to make. I told him when he found someone he intended to marry, I would buy him a house because that is what you do to make a lasting commitment. Bas assured me that would never happen, yet he is getting married before me."

"Oh, bitter, are you?"

"Yes."

"I'm so angry, I know the perfect man for you but he's married. That's on the rocks, though, so I'll phone you if things fall apart."

"I should begin walking up and down the streets looking out for attractive people, like our friends. Perhaps then the perfect man will appear."

"You're Catholic, perhaps you should pray harder."

"I will pray your friend is a proper match for Bastien. I do not believe anyone can sway him from this course."

"Look, I'll see you tomorrow, alright? Padma's a steal for your friend, and I know you don't surround yourself with horrible people, either. Text me the address."

"I will."

Ginny ended the call and sighed.

"The minute Dean and Seamus split, I'm phoning Blaise."

"He seems …" Padma tried to phrase it properly and came up empty. "Bastien has mentioned him."

"You haven't mentioned what Bastien's like in bed."

Padma admitted, "I don't know."

"You haven't had sex with him?"

Padma shook her head.

"Not even once?"

"He declined the offer."

"Then you don't even know if the chemistry is there."

"I know it is." Padma sighed heavily and let her head fall into her hands. "I know. I've gotten off every night thinking about him, and how small he makes me feel. Everyone finds me so intimidating that it's nice to feel vulnerable. He kissed me and I knew it was right. Bastien is the half of my life that has been missing."

Ginny said, "You seem very sure. If you're sure, I won't question it." She placed a hand on Padma's shoulder and said, "I trust you."

"My parents like him, Ti likes him, and I'm a bit scared because he seems too perfect."

"Look, a marriage is about how someone makes you feel. Harry makes me feel really cool. Even after I had just given birth, my vital bits had been torn apart, and I couldn't be bothered to do my hair … He thought I was the coolest person on the planet. How does Queensbury make you feel?"

"Powerful," replied Padma. "But also like I can be silly, just a little."

"When you're old, do you still want to feel powerful and silly?"

"I do."

Ginny said, "That's it, then. He's your man."

.oOo.

Padma stood outside Bastien's flat for mere seconds before he was out the front door and pulling her into his arms. She couldn't help but smile as he pressed an excited kiss to her cheek and spun her around in a circle before placing her back on the ground. Padma was so dizzy, she didn't know if it was from the spin or Bastien's impossibly large smile. He shook his head and said,

"Every time I see you, I can hardly believe I am so lucky."

Padma admitted, "I never considered myself to be at all romantic until I met you. Yet, I just arrived and you've already swept me off my feet."

"Wait until you taste dinner! Not to set expectations too high, but I believe this might be one of the best meals I've ever made." Bastien nodded to the small case Padma brought with her. "Glad to see you plan to stay awhile."

"Only if you made pasta."

Bastien grabbed the handle of the case and began rolling it toward the door. He held it open for Padma as she walked through, then followed quickly behind to call the lift.

"You will not be disappointed. It's halal, even."

Padma looked him up and down as they stepped into the lift and Bastien pressed the button for the third floor. He looked effortlessly masculine in a black polo and black pinstriped trousers. The bottoms of the sleeves were straining a bit against his biceps and Padma didn't realize she was staring until the lift dinged and the doors opened. She shook herself out of those thoughts and hoped Bastien hadn't noticed. As he stepped out of the lift he asked,

"You like the shirt, then?"

So much for subtlety. Padma hung her head as she followed Bastien down the hall to the right. She tried to conceal her face, knowing there must be a bright blush on her cheeks. Bastien nudged her with his elbow before unlocking the door to his flat.

"Don't go shy on me now, babe."

"You look like Ralph Lauren decided to advertise in a boxing magazine." Padma admitted, "I thought about how I hope this evening will end, and now I'm thinking about how sexy it's going to be to watch you take your shirt off."

"You've never dated an athlete before?"

Padma shook her head. She heard the click of the door close behind her, and it finally hit her that this was really happening. Bastien was going to ask her to marry him, and they were going to have sex. She was nervous, in a way, but mostly for Bastien. She had high expectations and it would be a challenge to meet them. Then again, the whole atmosphere seemed to shift once they were inside his flat. Whatever he was cooking smelled heavenly and Bastien was finally in his element.

"Tell me about the men you usually end up with, then."

Padma started to answer but lost her words as she looked around the flat. It was clean, but not sterile. To the left was a living area with a large, deep sofa filled with mismatched throw pillows. The kitchen was an average size, off to the right, but there were multiple pans cooling and one pan still on the stove. Bastien walked over to taste test then said,

"About ten more minutes."

Padma watched as Bastien walked toward her, placed a hand on her cheek, and kissed her gently on the lips. He lingered but didn't try to make it anything more. Padma hooked two fingers through one of his belt loops and pulled his lower half closer to her. Bastien laughed.

"Patience, babe. I promise we'll get there."

"Lawyers." Padma sighed, "I date a lot of lawyers. You are the first person I have dated that's fun. You make me feel like life can be silly."

"In my spare time I let other men beat the shit outta me, so life is certainly silly."

"I think it's so hot." Padma shook her head and admitted, "I'm sorry to say, but I went through your Instagram and there's a photograph of you after a match. Your knuckles are scraped raw, there's dried blood from the corner of your mouth down to your chin, and there's a bruise starting to form right here." Padma placed the pads of her fingers on Bastien's hairline directly above his left eyebrow. "There's something about knowing my man can come out of a fight looking like that, still smiling, that turns me on."

Padma let Bastien push her against the door and pull her into a sloppy, wet kiss. She tilted back to say,

"You're messing up my lipstick."

"Don't care." Bastien went in for another kiss. "Can't believe you think that's hot. Always thought it scared women when I look like that."

"Women with softer stomachs, perhaps."

"Perfect." Bastien threaded his fingers in Padma's hair and kissed her again. "You're fucking perfect and I'm gonna spend every day of my life telling you that, alright?"

Padma caught her breath enough to ask, "Is that a proposal?"

"Oh, come on, you know I'll do better than that."

"I just want you to touch me. Please, please—"

They were interrupted by the sounds of a timer ringing from the kitchen. Bastien's shoulders slumped and he pressed his forehead against Padma's.

"Dinner first, alright? If I start touching you now, the whole evening will be about sex and I don't want that for us."

"I want that for us."

Bastien laughed, softer than Padma had heard him before.

"Don't tempt me, please? I'm weak for you, Padma Patil."

"No." Padma unzipped the front of her case and pulled out her makeup bag. "You're strong for both of us, stronger than I am. You finish dinner while I touch up my lipstick, and we'll get back on track for how we both want this evening to go."

Bastien placed one hand on Padma's bum and said,

"As your lipstick is already askew, perhaps we should start at the end and work backward."

"You really are weak for me, aren't you Bastien Queensbury?"

Bastien grumbled low in his throat.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll only be able to call me Bas."

"That's a silly thing for you to say, because I will call you Mr. Queensbury just to prove you wrong."

Bastien closed his eyes and turned toward the kitchen.

"Every time you call me Mr. Queensbury I feel like I'm at work. Like you're just someone else in line at the pharmacy travelling to China to see panda bears and you need proof of vaccination. You're going to be riding my dick and I'll wind up thinking of pandas."

"What will you call me?" asked Padma. "If you're Bas to me when we're intimate, what am I to you?"

"Do you have a choto naam?"

Padma raised her eyebrows in surprise. It shouldn't have, really, Sajjad was quite devoted to Bangladesh. But that Bastien cared enough to learn about his stepfather's culture was unexpected and heartwarming. For someone who didn't want to be a father, he was quite the family man. She said,

"Dea. No one calls me Dea because it's weird to call a grown woman debi—"

Bastien laughed as he pulled the pan off the stove and onto the countertop. He shook his head and asked,

"Your nickname is goddess. That fits, that is perfect. If you think I'm ever calling you anything else, you're mad."

"How did you learn Bangla? I am desperately curious—"

"Bathroom is right there." Bastien grabbed a wooden spoon and pointed toward the small hallway on Padma's left. "You fix your makeup, make yourself at home, that's your bathroom. Use it as you need."

Padma understood the conversation was over. She stepped out of her heels and placed them on the wall by the door, where Bastien's shoes were on a small rubber mat. He was busying himself plating the meal, so Padma rolled her case over to the second bathroom, assuming Bastien's bathroom was attached to his bedroom. That's your bathroom. Six days earlier she didn't know Bastien Queensbury existed, yet she had space in his flat.

The bathroom was nice. Modern, spacious enough … Padma spread her makeup products across the shelf below the mirror. She pulled the cap off her lip liner and noticed her hand was shaking. She tossed it back on the shelf and gripped either side of the sink. She asked herself,

"Why are you so nervous?"

She didn't need to think on it long. Padma wanted this space in his flat. She wanted space in his life, and he was everything she asked for in a husband. Even things she didn't know she wanted, like a husband who spoke Bangla and wasn't afraid to bash someone's head in when needed. Padma was not certain she was what he wanted. No matter how good the sex would be, and she did not doubt it would be amazing, she did not have more to offer. He'd seen it all: her job, her family, and her flat. Once he saw her tits there was nothing left to explore. Maybe he'd realize they were riding a weeklong high only to crash with an engagement ring between them.

Padma took a deep breath and turned on the faucet. She listened to the water run and tried to calm her thoughts. Bastien would not want her to doubt herself. She was too confident to worry like this. She picked up the lip liner and fixed a slight smudge on her upper lip before reapplying her lipstick where it had worn off. She placed it back on the shelf and fluffed her hair before stepping back to look at her reflection.

Bright red trousers and a simple black jumper. She looked elegant and poised. Refined in a way her mum would appreciate. This was as much a business proposal as anything on the surface. Underneath, however, she'd worn a simple black bra and panty set with sheer fabric over the vital bits. She felt exposed in the best, most exciting way. She hoped to look good for Bastien.

Bastien.

Padma left the bathroom and made her way into the main area of the flat. Bastien was plating something when he caught sight of her. He put the plate down on the counter and rushed over to the table. He pulled out a chair and nodded for Padma to sit. She blurted out,

"Why do you like me?"

Bastien frowned and said, "Can the inquisition wait until we have food?"

"I'd prefer that it didn't."

"I'd prefer that you sit."

Padma begrudgingly sat in the chair and allowed Bastien to push her closer to the table. He made his way back to plating in the kitchen and half-shouted,

"Why do I like you? Well, babe, I never wanted to get married. I wanted to be single and unencumbered, having a good time for the rest of my life without having to worry about what that means to somebody else. It's hard for me to explain how seeing you for the first time wasn't just seeing you. My whole life exists in three places: the pharmacy, out with my friends, and inside the ring. I'd never met a woman who could fit in all three places, then I felt it the moment I saw you. That's why I ran after you when I shouldn't have."

Bastien brought two plates over to the table and placed one in front of Padma. It was simple, pasta with chicken and peas. He took his place directly across from her and said,

"This is the first course. I made another and then dessert."

"You said why you were interested in me, but not why you like me now."

"Your parents asked me the same thing yesterday." Bastien laughed. "I told them it's your dry sense of humour and that you make more money than me. But I suppose the real answer is that I like you because you're confident and you've got a career to back it up. You're living my life, Padma. Even if thirty years from now I don't feel this same all-consuming desire to watch you ride my dick until it falls off, I'm still going to love you because you're coming to watch me fight. You're kicking ass as a solicitor. You're coming home to me at the end of the day, sitting in our garden with my arm around your shoulders, and we're watching the sun go down. That is what I want, and that's why I like you."

"Oh." Padma picked up a fork and knife and began slicing the chicken. "I don't know how to respond to that."

"Maybe try saying why you like me?"

"Because you are the first person I've ever met who didn't make me feel like my life is a mistake."

Bastien insisted, "You have to elaborate on that one."

"Everyone believes I make the wrong choices. Not to have kids, not to marry young, and being Bengali is not part of my personality the way the rest of my family and our community wish it to be. Not the way it is for Parvati. I'm terrified I have made a mistake in not being what they want. I don't really pray, don't consider myself religious—another point against me—but I'd started praying for a husband. Just to be normal, to not fail at something."

"I don't think you have failed at anything."

"A week ago today, my dad phoned to check in and I heard my mum in the background. She asked who it was, my dad told her it was Padma, and she left the room. She—" Padma's breath stuttered in her chest. She placed the cutlery back on the table and stared down at her plate when she said, "My mum didn't want to talk to me. I haven't spoken to her in months."

"She cares for you," replied Bastien. He gently nudged her foot underneath the table. "I think your parents have trouble showing it, but they dressed me down pretty well yesterday."

"I felt like I failed her. Getting married was the one way I felt I might appease her without compromising myself. I was desperate to find a man who could please her and be a true partner to me. I prayed and begged for the universe to send me a husband. I woke up Monday, went to work, came home, went to bed … Nothing. I believed the universe was saying I was destined to be alone. I believed I would never find a man to marry." Padma shrugged. "The next day a handsome, strong, incredible man found me."

"What part of me makes you feel like everything you believed was a mistake, isn't anymore?" asked Bastien.

"Everything you just said. We don't need children or a religion to be whole; all we need is a backyard with a view of the horizon. If I am who I am thirty years from now, as long as I'm with you then I don't believe my life will be a mistake."

Bastien smiled at Padma and the tightness in her chest from speaking about her mother seemed to disappear. She asked again,

"Please, tell me, how and why did you learn Bengali?"

Bastien sighed heavily and focused on twirling pasta around his fork.

"My parents' divorce was messy. It shouldn't've been, they didn't like each other anymore and I knew it. I was happy they split because there was no way for them to be happy with each other. When you're ten, you understand enough when things are bad, and you don't want them to be bad anymore. Problem was, each of them only had one other person to love: me."

"They fought over you?"

"That's a bit of a misnomer, because I love my dad. I'm a lot like my dad. When I was young, he was a huge bloke who didn't mind his mates taking the piss out of him for hanging 'round the gay clubs. My dad had one gay friend when he was a teenager, who got the shit beat out of him for looking the wrong way at another man. My dad went to the club for the first time to protect his friend, and eventually he was there to protect everybody. I didn't realize I did the same thing until Blaise and Draco literally wouldn't go out without me. Even when I was high I could tell the difference between good people and bad ones. I was there to protect my friends."

"How does that connect to your parents' divorce?"

"Oh, right, yeah, I chose my dad. I was never leaving him, I was him. My mum tried to make me see my dad in a different way, make me love him less. I didn't want to abandon my mum, I loved her, but I couldn't handle what she was doing to our relationship. We were nearly broken when she met Sajjad. I was twelve, starting to grow a bit, really at a place where I needed my dad's guidance. Sajjad had lost his entire family, moved to a new country to start fresh, and my mum needed a fresh start, too. The thing about Sajjad was … He kind of liked my dad? And he loved me. He's quirky, the first few months to me he was the weird Indian fellow who can draw a map of the world from memory. So, so bloody weird."

Padma agreed, "He is weird in the best way."

"Sajjad is from Bangladesh, and my mum wanted to learn about why he is the way he is, so we started learning about Bengali culture together. We'd read books at the library, even started asking customers at the shop to help us learn more things. Sajjad asked my mum to marry him when I was thirteen, and my mum thought it would be a strong gesture of commitment if she were to deliver her wedding vows in Bangla."

Padma's heart was so full in that moment, she didn't have the words to express how much that must've meant. Not only to Sajjad, but to the whole community within the shop. Bastien continued,

"I helped her learn, and we never stopped learning. I've been speaking it seventeen years now. Can't read a fucking word of it, but Sajjad was happy that our family had this distance from my dad. The language is something we share separate from him. My dad's quite happy to be mostly rid of my mum. Sajjad is the reason I'm not being pulled between the two of them anymore. I've got a great father, and a really good stepdad. My mum brought them both to me, and for that I am very grateful."

"That's a mature way to view things."

"Relationships have always come fairly easy to me. I think the most difficulty I had in terms of personal growth was letting go of the alcohol. Less so the drugs, that was mostly for parties. I decided to go easy on the booze a few years back because I took a kick to the liver that put me in hospital. Grade IV. Awful pain, the worst pain I've ever experienced. Since then, I've tried to be delicate with my liver."

Padma admitted, "I never partied much."

"You don't strike me as the type. Though your sister said something yesterday that I don't quite believe."

"What's that?"

"She said when it comes to sex, you are vanilla."

Padma pressed her lips together, slightly irritated Bastien saw right through her while she was still trying to figure him out. She said,

"You think I'm not?"

"I think you're not."

"Why?"

"I don't know, really, but I sense it."

Padma challenged that with, "Do you prefer to date women with special sexual interests, then?"

"No, but as I said, I'm up to try almost anything once. Found things I like, things I don't like, and some things are just grey to me. But I know you haven't been satisfied by the men you've been seeing because both times we've been together you've walked through the door and tried to pull me on top of you. I can't remember if I've ever told a woman to slow things down before and you're so bloody desperate for me it's making me nervous. I don't know what you're missing and whether I've got it."

"Well—"

"Before you explain, are you ready for a second course? I have a surprise."

Padma nodded and offered up her nearly-empty plate. Bastien couldn't stop smiling as he took their plates to the kitchen then brought back two dishes of chilli prawns. Padma laughed and said,

"You told me you didn't know how to cook prawn."

Bastien sat in his chair and dug in. Through a mouthful of food he said,

"I learned." He swallowed then added, "Blaise only knows this Chinese version, but I wanted to show you I can do prawns now."

"You …" Padma couldn't stop smiling. "You learned to cook something new for me?"

"You like prawns. Next I have to learn to bake croissants so I can make you breakfast. Or lunch, as you seem quite keen to skip both the first and second meals of the day."

Padma took a bite and was pleasantly surprised. It was not quite as spicy as she would've preferred, but it was good. Far too good. This was a marry me prawn. Through illness and health prawn. Fuck me until the sun comes up prawn.

"You were saying?"

Padma pulled herself out of her devotion to the chilli prawn to ask, "Hmm?"

"You were explaining why none of your other men have satisfied you sexually."

"This," Padma pointed to the plate, "this is my kink. This is an orgasm in my mouth."

Bastien laughed.

"I love that you say it with such conviction. I can't tell if you're serious."

"In a way. I like that you learned to do something simply because I like it. I want to do the same for you."

"You're going to learn to cook?"

"No, Bastien, I want to learn to do something sexually because you like it. I enjoy being told what to do. Pleasing you gets me off. I don't find that to be anything adventurous; it's vanilla with syrup."

Bastien winked and said, "Sounds like you'd give me more flavours if I asked."

"Yes."

"That's the first time you've called me by my name. Don't think I didn't notice."

"What is your preferred type of woman?" asked Padma. "How do I compare to what you usually go for?"

"Tits." Bastien shrugged and said, "Anybody with tits is my type. Big tits, tiny tits, anything in between. Height, age, none of it mattered much for me. I once shagged this woman, she was sixty-eight, tall, thin, stunning. Her tits swung back and forth when I fucked her and it was amazing. God, I love tits."

"I love this prawn." Padma ate another bite and shook her head, it was so good. "I hope my tits please you as much as I am enjoying this plate."

"You could have no tits, Dea, and shagging you would still be a privilege."

Padma blushed.

"Trying the name out, are you?"

"Padma, Dea, my goddess divine … It's nice to have options. Though I don't think Dea is a public name. I think that one is for me and you alone."

Me and you.

Alone.

"Would you mind if I return to the bathroom for a moment?"

"Use your time here as you wish, babe. If you're done, though, I will take your plate."

"Yes, please. It was fantastic, Bastien. Truly."

"Keep saying my name and I'll keep making the prawn."

Padma could feel her heart beating nearly out of her chest as she walked to the bathroom. She grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste, then turned on the faucet. Padma brushed her teeth as quickly and efficiently as she could, desperate to get the taste of prawn out of her mouth. He wouldn't enjoy tasting it when he kissed her. She spat into the sink, rinsed her mouth, then reapplied her lipstick. Again. She stepped back, unfastened her trousers, and pulled up her shirt. Padma adjusted her bra then turned to either side, ensuring everything looked good from each angle. She tucked her shirt into her trousers, refastened them, and looked at her reflection one final time.

Ready.

Padma left the bathroom and made her way back to the dining area where Bastien was placing clean plates into the cabinets. She meandered over to the sofa and picked up one of the throw pillows. She asked,

"Why do none of these match?"

Bastien walked out of the kitchen, through the dining area, and into his living space. Padma had thought the flat was rather spacious, but watching Bastien move through it she realized he needed the extra room to move about. Bastien stood behind Padma and wrapped his arms around her waist. There was a certain calm about it, knowing they were finally about to do what she'd been begging for and fantasizing about for days.

"When I travel somewhere new, I buy a pillow. It's easy to get through customs and it puts life in the flat."

"Which one is your favourite?"

Bastien sighed and pressed a gentle kiss to Padma's cheek.

"I'm not thinking about my pillows. I'm thinking about this beautiful woman in my arms and making sure she knows how well I plan to treat her for the rest of our lives."

His hands were on her sides, fingers spread from the bottom of her bra down to the top of her trousers. Padma was lost in the scent of mint on Bastien's breath. She asked,

"Did you use a mouthwash while I was in the bathroom?"

"I did." Bastien moved one hand to press a palm against Padma's stomach, then slowly upward until his hand was on her breast. "Is this okay?"

Padma nodded. Bastien squeezed the slightest bit and kissed her cheek.

"I think dessert can wait."

Bastien plopped onto the sofa and leaned back onto the mass of pillows. He held out his hand, Padma took it and was pulled on top of him. Bastien smiled and said,

"I've been thinking about this for days, Dea. I'm going to just kiss you for awhile, if that's okay."

Padma leaned forward to steal a quick kiss.

"Whatever you like, Bastien."

"Whatever you like, Bastien." He pulled her into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Then pulled back to say, "I am weak for you." A quick kiss. "Weak."

Padma felt it, too, the desperation in his hands. For minutes it was nothing but soft kisses and Bastien's left hand following a path up and down her back, pausing occasionally to rest on her bum. His right hand was steady on Padma's waist, and she let herself be held. Padma pressed her hips down into Bastien's centre and he pulled back to moan,

"Yes."

Bastien leaned further back into the pillows and pulled Padma with him. He began snogging her quickly, an uncontrollable rush, like a little boy who had just been presented a large bowl of ice cream. Bastien squeezed her bum with one hand and kept her steady on top of him with the other. It was easy to get lost in it, lost in him. He would pull back just the slightest bit to breathe and Padma was dizzy trying to match his rhythm before he was pulling her in again.

Minutes passed just like that. Padma could've stayed like that for days in Bastien's arms. She felt desirable; she felt powerful and wanted at the same time. Two things she'd never quite been able to square for herself. Bastien patted her bum and she lifted herself up the slightest bit. He asked,

"Will you stand up, babe?"

Padma pushed herself up then off the sofa. She stepped back, expecting Bastien would follow. Instead, he sat up the slightest bit and shifted so he was looking at her. He tilted his chin up the slightest bit and said,

"I want to watch you take your clothes off."

Padma made to pull her shirt out of her trousers but Bastien stopped her.

"Trousers first."

"Tits for last?" she guessed.

Bastien confirmed, "Tits for last. It's like Christmas, you know, opening the biggest gift at the end."

Padma laughed. She shook her head in fond exasperation as she unbuttoned then unzipped her trousers. She asked,

"Do you want me to make a show of it and go slow?"

"No."

Padma pushed her trousers down to her knees, then let them fall to her ankles. She stepped out, picked them up, and folded them the way she would if this were the end of the day at her own flat. She placed them delicately over the far end of the sofa then noticed Bastien was looking at her with a confused expression on his face.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Are you …" Bastien opened his mouth but no more words came out for a moment. "Are you folding your clothes right now?"

"Those are a silk crepe. I have to get them pressed; they wrinkle like mad."

"I'm half-hard just from ten minutes of snogging and watching you take your trousers off. And somehow you taking the time to make sure your clothes don't wrinkle is turning me on."

Padma guessed, "You're a man who appreciates a fine fabric?"

"I'm a man who appreciates a fine woman."

Padma pulled one arm into her shirt, then the other, and lifted it over her shoulders then overtop of her head. She folded it in half then draped it over her trousers. She stood back to give Bastien a complete view and waited for him to do something. Seconds ticked by and nothing. His eyes darted from her face to her tits to her hips to anywhere and everywhere, but the rest of him was frozen on the sofa. Padma bit down on her lip and asked,

"Do you not—"

"Shh." Bastien shook his head. "I think this is how people feel when they see a powerful work of art. How you look right now, I want to burn it into my brain. I haven't been to church in twenty years, but your body's damn well going to convert me to something. Worshipping at the altar of Padma for the rest of my fucking days. Will you turn around for me? Slowly."

Padma obliged. It was odd not having a view of him. Bastien was so expressive.

"What do you want—"

She felt Bastien's hands on her waist. He pulled down her pants, pushed them past her knees then whispered,

"Step out of them."

Padma obliged, wiggling a bit to get the pants down to her ankles then kicking them off toward the dining area. Bastien kissed her shoulder and began exploring her body with his hands. His palm on her bare stomach, fingertips tracing the path along her sides from her waist down over the curve of her hips. As wonderful as it was to be treated with such care, Padma grabbed Bastien's hand and moved it from her stomach downward until his fingers pressed against her clit. Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned back into him.

"You're too slow."

Bastien dropped his hold on her and stepped around to look down at her with both eyebrows raised.

"You want to rush through this?"

"Give me your hand."

Padma didn't wait for him to offer it; she grabbed one of his hands and placed it between her thighs. She pressed his fingers firm against her cunt and her legs nearly gave out underneath her. Padma pushed him away and stepped back toward the sofa. Bastien's face was several layers of confusion as he stared down at his fingers, coated with liquid from between Padma's thighs.

"Days I've been waiting. I'm shaking, look," Padma held up her own trembling hand, "with how desperate I am for you. I don't want you to be tender, Bastien, I want you to fuck me so hard I can't think."

Bastien insisted, "I thought our first time together should be softer. It is strange to hear you speak like that; you've always got such a poised way of saying things."

"I am begging for you. Begging. You have decades to be soft, snogging me as the sun sets and waking up to lazy morning sex. I want all of the tenderness with you, Bastien, but this is not the time."

Bastien pushed Padma backward onto the sofa. It caught her off guard and she landed against the pile of pillows with a soft oof. Before she could get her bearings, Bastien was on his knees and pulling Padma forward so her bum was on the edge of the sofa. He hooked both her legs over his shoulders and—

"Yes."

Bastien pressed his tongue against her clit and Padma's body responded immediately. She'd needed this, and he delivered. He didn't bother to ask what she wanted; he seemed to know. Padma placed her hand on the back of his head to pull him closer to her cunt. Her body had been so tense, she'd been ready for this, but the world seemed to be running hot. Bastien placed one finger inside of her and Padma threw her head back.

"Good. So good."

She arched her back the slightest bit, desperate to be closer to the wet pressure of Bastien's tongue. The sounds of that moment were as heady as anything, the way Bastien was lapping at her clit with his tongue and the tiny breaths he took before diving back in. He pressed down on her stomach with one hand and Padma threaded her fingers in her hair.

"So good, Bastien."

He popped up the slightest bit and Padma watched as a smile spread across his face, his lips shining. He said,

"I fucking love when you say my name."

Padma rolled her hips and Bastien returned to the task at hand. She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander toward the more tender thoughts Bastien wanted to start with. Perhaps they would get their house and instead of a sofa she would be on a chair in the backyard. Instead of the ceiling of this flat, she'd be looking up at the sky, gradually darkening as the sun sank below the horizon. Bastien would be right there, with his head between her thighs, doing—what had he called it? Worshipping at the altar of Padma.

She tugged at Bastien's hair by the roots when she came. Tiny satisfied sounds, quick breaths as the orgasm flashed through her body then abated, leaving her slightly satisfied and weak. Wanting. She pushed his head away and said,

"That's enough, Bastien."

He didn't spare any time. Bastien grabbed Padma by the waist and hoisted her into a bridal carry. He walked them both toward the bedroom, and Padma hadn't understood how large a person he was until he picked her up like she was little more than a bag of groceries from Tesco. She saw virtually no effort on his part as he said,

"I had it all planned out, was going to propose after dessert, planned to spend the entire time we were shagging calling you my fiancée, but you make me feel some kind of way, Padma."

Padma played with the buttons of his polo and smiled at the slight sheen on the lower half of his face. It was a heady thing, knowing what he'd just done for her and there was more to come. She leaned her head against his chest and admitted,

"I've been thinking about this for days."

Bastien opened the door to his bedroom and Padma had no time to look around before Bastien placed her on the edge of the bed. He stood back and unfastened the four buttons of his polo. He pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. As he unbuttoned his trousers, Padma's jaw dropped. She mumbled,

"Wow."

Bastien chuckled as he shimmied out of his trousers.

"As good as you hoped?"

"You look better than I even imagined." Padma noticed the scars across his abdomen and asked, "Boxing?"

Bastien pulled down his pants and tossed them aside to land atop his trousers. He revealed,

"Not all my fighting was done inside the ring, babe. Imagine me at this size and twenty-two. Huge and stupid as hell."

Huge.

Huge.

Padma stared at Bastien's cock and shifted toward the headboard until her back hit the pillows. Standing at the end of the bed was a genuine Adonis of a man. The sort of man Renaissance Italian sculptors would spend months carving into marble. She teased,

"The Altar of Padma is pleased with your offering."

Bastien grinned and said, "As I recall, the request was, 'fuck me so hard I can't think.' You still good with that?"

"I expect it."

.oOo.

Padma's brain was mush. Bastien traced circles on her right thigh with his thumb, his palm rested on her bent knee. She could feel him looking at her with that sappy, drunk smile on his face as she stared at the ceiling. There was no logical explanation for a first time to be that good. Usually there was a period of learning, what do they like, how could they make Padma feel desirable? Bastien didn't need so much as a note. She hadn't said a word the whole time, he just went for it …

And it was fantastic. His mouth on her chest, his hand on her neck, the violent sensuality of that moment was exactly what she didn't know to ask for. When she finally turned to look at him, he was covered in a sheen of sweat, staring at the gentle rise and fall of her tits as she settled into a normal breathing pattern. Bastien certainly knew what he liked. Padma said,

"That was the best sex I've ever had."

"Comparing that to any sex I've had before, Dea, would be comparing summer to winter. Can't appreciate warmth without the cold, but I'm looking forward to a lifetime of summer with you."

Padma smiled softly and admitted, "My brain isn't functional enough right now to fully appreciate that metaphor, but I know it was a good one."

"Are you ready for dessert?"

"Bas, I don't know whether my legs are strong enough to walk."

"Yes!" Bastien pumped his fist. "I told you, I told you I'd fuck you good enough to call me Bas."

Padma smiled and turned her attention back to the ceiling. Bas. It sounded a bit odd, but it also sounded like him. Bastien was better, though. She felt him slide off the bed, then something fell onto her stomach. She glanced down to see Bastien had thrown his polo at her.

"Put it on, yeah?"

Padma sat up and pulled the polo over her head the pushed her arms through the giant sleeves. It looked like a smock she would wear at the hairdresser, embarrassingly wide around her middle and hips. Bastien pulled on his pants and looked her direction.

"You're so fucking tiny."

"I am not tiny," insisted Padma, "you are simply massive."

Bastien picked Padma up off the bed in a bridal carry and she rested her head against his shoulder for the second time. She teased,

"I expect this will be how I always enter and exit your bedroom."

"You could walk if you wanted to, this is just an excuse for me to keep touching you."

"I could stay in your arms forever and be quite happy," Padma said.

"You're a romantic, Dea." Bastien turned into the kitchen and sat her on the countertop. "No matter how much you try to hide it, I know inside of you is a mushy-hearted sap."

Padma adjusted her bum so the polo completely covered the bits of countertop touching her skin. Bastien placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her softly, completely counter to how he touched her in bed. Padma smiled against his lips, perfectly satiated. Bastien whispered,

"I know I promised dessert but I can't stop touching you."

"There is no one I've ever trusted enough to touch me the way I let you just now."

"Next time will be softer, I promise." One more kiss before he turned toward the fridge. "But I owe you dessert."

Bastien grabbed two bowls from the fridge and, for the first time, Padma caught him blushing. He closed the fridge door then turned back toward where she was sitting on the counter.

"I thought it would be funny to make you three things from three separate cultures. To show I'm agile in the kitchen, you know. Because I am so embarrassingly English, I made raspberry ripple for dessert."

Padma giggled. She said,

"You made me. It's what I said about sex, it's vanilla with syrup."

Bastien handed her the bowl and shook his head, leaning on the counter next to her. He took a huge spoonful of ice cream and ate it in one mouthful. Padma watched the up-and-down of his Adam's apple as he swallowed. He was so handsome even in profile, a strong jawline and several tiny scars along his hairline she could only guess were old injuries from the ring. Bastien wondered,

"If you hadn't asked the universe for a husband and I'd run after you the way I did, would you have considered going out with me?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Each time we've spoken about your father, you always say something about him teaching you and your friends how to be 'proper men.' I don't believe I can fully articulate what that means, but there is a proper way to walk in the world and a proper way to consider the people around you. I admire the way you do both. When you told me that you learned Bangla to help your mum with her wedding vows?" Padma shrugged and poked at some of her rapidly-melting ice cream. "You cared enough about your relationship to your mum to learn a language you didn't have any basis for. It takes a special sort of person to make that kind of commitment and it shows if you are committed to me, you will support me however I need you to."

"I wouldn't say my mum and I are close," replied Bastien. "The divorce fucked me up pretty bad. It's one of the reasons I don't want to have kids. Sajjad was—and is—a better parent to me than she was."

"If you didn't care for your mum, you wouldn't have put effort into her relationship with him."

"I do. I do care for her, it's just … hard."

"I understand. I don't talk to my mum much at all anymore." Padma revealed, "I always wanted to be like her, it's why I became a lawyer."

"What did you want to do otherwise?" asked Bastien.

"I'm not telling you." Padma busied herself eating another bit of raspberry ripple. "You'll look at me differently."

"Now I have to know."

Padma shook her head. Bastien leaned over and stuck his spoon in her bowl before stealing a spoonful of ice cream. She nudged his knee with her foot and he laughed.

"You should know well enough by now I'm going to coax it out of you one way or another."

"Maybe try putting your head between my thighs again."

"Oh, you liked that, did you?"

"Very much." Padma licked her spoon clean before revealing, "My whole childhood, I wanted to be a jewelry designer."

"That makes perfect sense to me." Bastien said, "Your style is very simple. It's classic, you are a classic sort of woman in silk crepe trousers."

Padma grinned and nudged his shoulder with her own.

"That was not something that would please my parents, so I went the legal route. I'm quite good at it, but there is part of me that wonders if I would be happier in that career. I like making things with my hands."

"Speaking of jewelry and your hands …" Bastien placed his bowl on the countertop and said, "There is something I promised you I would do that I haven't done yet."

Padma knew what was coming, knew what he left to retrieve, and she was almost impatient about it. She wanted that opportunity to say yes. The moment that tiny box popped open—would there be a box? Or was Bastien the sort of man who stuffed the unboxed ring in his pocket? She heard him shout from the living area,

"Will you come in here?! I'd prefer to do it on a rug, the tile's going to be murder on my knees!"

Padma pushed herself off the countertop, placed her bowl next to Bastien's, and walked into the living area where he stood with both hands behind him. He took up so much of the space, Padma couldn't stop staring. He was nearly naked, about to propose marriage, standing with all the confidence in the world. Padma observed,

"You're not wearing trousers and I'm not wearing pants."

"The only reason you're still wearing my shirt is because I can't pull a sentence together when your tits are out."

Padma glanced down toward the trail of fine blond hair from the bottom of his navel down to the top hem of his pants. She asked,

"Are you under the impression you are less distracting to me?"

"I'm just thinking someday we'll be at a party or out with friends, and they'll ask about this moment. 'Hey, Queensbury, how did you ask Padma to marry you?' I'll tell them I asked you with nothing but one shirt and one pair of pants between us. Up to them to guess who's wearing what."

Padma placed her hands on her hips and teased, "Will you be getting on with it?"

"In a moment." Bastien sighed and spun what Padma guessed was a ring box between the fingers of one hand, still behind him. "You said you will say yes, but I … I'm feeling sort of vulnerable right now. Kind of terrified that there is a possibility you'll say no. Because why would you say yes? Why would Padma Patil, gorgeous solicitor, aspiring jewelry designer, with her dry humour and her own flat, ever agree to marry a bloke she met five days ago?"

"Because five days ago I met the love of my life and neither of us care to pretend that isn't true."

Bastien's cheeks turned bright pink.

"You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"It's mad, because I know we're going to be judged for doing this the rest of our lives. 'How can you know after five days?' When the truth is that I knew from the moment I saw you. Five days is four days, twenty-three hours, fifty-nine minutes and about fifty seconds longer than I needed to figure out you are the only woman I will love for the rest of my life. If you die before me, I would never love another. If you reject me now, every attempt at love I ever make will be compared to you, Dea. With that said …"

Bastien dropped to one knee and looked up at her, as terrified as she'd ever seen him. What had she done, what had she not said for him to know she was about to say yes? He could say nothing else. Not another word, and the moment he produced that Tiffany blue ring box, Padma would've said yes. Bastien opened the box to reveal a giant yellow diamond engagement ring he should not have been able to afford. As if reading her mind, Bastien said,

"I've been saving for a long time. I said it and I meant it, I never really believed I'd get married. I saved up because if I did find the woman for me, I knew she'd deserve something spectacular."

Padma's voice was a bit shaky when she asked, "Can I tell you something?"

"I haven't asked the question yet—"

"My parents used to take me and Ti to look at storefronts every Christmas. One of my earliest memories is the window display at Tiffany's and it's where I first realized I wanted to make jewelry." Padma felt the tears only a moment before her eyes began to water. "Because I love things that sparkle. And you—you just …" She wiped the bottom of her nose with the side of her wrist. "This is meant to be such a perfect moment and I'm ruining it."

Bastien insisted, "You're not."

"It's like you knew what I wanted even though I never would've told you." Padma wiped tears from her face with the inside of Bastien's polo. "When I'm with you, I feel like a child again, looking at Christmas displays in the windows. For the first time in so long I feel loved, and I remember what it was like to love things." She took a shaky breath in before adding, "Because I love you."

"That is perfect, Dea, because I've always had more love than I even knew what to do with. There is nobody on this planet I'd rather love than you."

"This is mad, we're both so mad for this."

"Maybe, but I don't care because on Tuesday, you said yes to dinner. On Wednesday, you said yes to a house. And on Thursday you said yes to my meeting your parents to become part of your family. Here we are on Sunday, and I am asking you for one more yes. Padma Nurunnessa Patil, will you marry me?"

Padma nodded and offered her left hand.

"Without hesitation, Bastien. Yes."

He fumbled with the box a bit and mumbled, "Now even my hands are shaking, bloody hell."

"Maybe it's because we waited four days too long to do this."

Bastien laughed and agreed, "Maybe." He finally managed to get the ring out of the box and place it on Padma's finger. They both stared at it for a moment with the same feeling of contentment. It didn't feel rushed at all, it felt right. "We're really doing this."

Padma laughed through a rush of happy tears.

"Will you stand up and hug me?"

Bastien picked Padma up off the ground as he stood and hugged her tight against his chest. He said,

"I love you so much."

Padma said, "We're going to be very happy together."

"We're going to be so, so happy together in our house."

"In our garden."