“That’s a trick.”
“That’s a negotiation,” Rhys corrected, holding his hands out to stop Beckett from getting too close. Rhys laughed and let Beckett back him up into the door. Beckett glared down at Rhys, unsure of whether he wanted to kiss him or hit him.
“I don’t want your money,” Beckett said quietly.
“I have plans to marry you, darling.” Rhys gave him a coy look, and Beckett shivered the way he always did at the soft and lilting endearment. “It will be yours then anyway. This just pushes that part of the deal along.”
“Marriage is a deal to you?”
“Marriage is a contract, and a contract is a promise.”
Beckett swallowed, his eyes falling closed at the rhythmic feel of Rhys’s hot breath puffing out against his cheek.
“And what are you promising?” he asked.
Rhys made a surprised sound in the back of his throat, but Beckett could feel the way he adjusted his posture. He could picture the look on Rhys’s face, all proud arrogance and well-earned confidence.
“Not much, unfortunately.” Rhys kissed his chin. “A ruined family empire. A dreadfully finite bank account. My heart.”
“That last part’s plenty.” Beckett opened his eyes to take in Rhys’s honest expression, the tenderness and sincerity in his eyes. The way his full and pouty lips were pulled together in a tense and desperate line that didn’t match the hope in his eyes. He was anticipating another denial, Beckett could see it.
“I do want something in return from you, though,” Rhys said, his head dropping to the side.
“What is a contract without negotiation?” Beckett rolled his eyes and hooked his fingers into Rhys’s belt loops, pulling their bodies into alignment.
“It’s easy,” Rhys promised. “All I want is your name.”
“What?”
“I want. Your name,” Rhys punctuated the sentence with pauses, making sure Beckett knew it wasn’t an ask.
“You want my name.”
“I don’t want anything to do with the St. George legacy,” Rhys said. “Not now. And honestly, I’ve always intended for anything left to be Sebastian’s anyway, and now there’s nothing left, and I can’t believe it was all for nothing, but if I could just…”
Beckett shut him up with a kiss.
A rough crash of their mouths together, and he swallowed down Rhys’s mindless rambling until he’d had enough time to properly process what Rhys had asked of him.
“You want to takemyname,” he finally whispered.
“If you think I’m worthy.”
“Rhys.” He scoffed. “More than. You’re worth it and so much more and it’s quite literally the only thing I have to give you.”
Rhys reached down, once again taking Beckett’s cock into his hand.
“Well, not the only thing.”
“Oh, God,” he groaned, rolling his body into Rhys’s hand. “Was that a real proposal? Did you just negotiate me into saying yes to marrying you?”
“I haven’t asked yet,” Rhys countered, flexing his fingers around Beckett’s hardness. “Believe me, Beckett. When I ask you to marry me, you’ll know.”
“So this is just…”
“Planning ahead.”
Beckett swallowed, lashes fluttering. “Duly noted.”
