Make Me Yours (Bellamy Creek #2) - Melanie Harlow Page 0,118
I turned in a slow circle, looking at the bedroom of my dreams, lit by dozens of candles. My eyes traveled over the elegant bedding, the soft colors, the plush fabrics, the shining floors.
And the window seat—he’d built a window seat. With a cushioned bench upon which half a dozen pillows rested, along with a soft throw blanket. Not only that, but it was bookended by floor-to-ceiling shelves, freshly painted white and waiting to be filled.
“Cole,” I choked out over a sob. “Did you do all this?”
“I had help,” he confessed, looking happy about my reaction. “The guys were here all last weekend. Moretti was a godsend. And Bianca DeRossi—no matter what he thinks—is an angel. That was her in the car out front. She lit the candles for me and waited to make sure it was safe.”
BDR—Bianca DeRossi. Now it made sense. And yet it was still beyond belief.
“I’m stunned.” I shook my head, wiping my eyes again. “It’s so beautiful. Everything is perfect. Better than I dreamed it could be.”
He came over and wrapped his arms around me. “That’s what I want for you. Something better than a dream.”
Our mouths came together, open and hungry, our hands working to remove coats and sweaters and jeans and boots and what seemed like an endless amount of layers of winter clothing. Finally, we scrambled beneath the covers of the bed, naked and desperate to lie skin to skin, to make up for lost time, to express with our bodies what words could not.
“God, I swore to myself I was going to take my time with you,” he whispered, moving inside me hard and deep. “And now we’re here and I can’t slow down.”
“Don’t,” I begged, pulling him tighter to me, rocking my hips beneath his. “Don’t slow down. For once, I won’t say there’s no rush. There’s a rush. There’s definitely a rush.”
He laughed, pausing only to bring his lips to mine. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
And then we were lost to each other, and just like he promised, it was something better than a dream.
Afterward, we lay on our sides, facing each other, covers pulled up to our waists.
“I’m sorry I made you wait so long before getting this right,” he said, propping his head up in one hand. “I was dying to call you every day last week, but I felt like I couldn’t, not unless I had something real to offer you.”
“All I’ve ever wanted was this.” I placed one hand over his heart.
“It’s all yours.”
“Finally.”
“Now you tell that girl inside you that I chose her, and I fucking meant it.” He poked a finger playfully against my sternum.
I laughed. “She heard you.”
“Does she believe me?”
“Yes.”
He grabbed me and rolled me on top of him. “Well, just in case she needs more convincing, let her know I’ve got all night.”
“All night?” Surprised, I looked down at him. “We have all night?”
“We have all night.” He kissed me, brushing my messy hair back from my face. “Our first night in our bed in our house. That is, if you’ll agree to live here with me.”
“Can we have pancakes for dinner?”
He grinned. “All the time.”
“Yes,” I said, a shiver moving through me. “I’ll live here with you.”
He kissed me once more. “This is the real New Year’s Eve,” he whispered. “This is the real beginning.”
“Mmm,” I murmured against his lips. “Finally, I get to kiss Cole Mitchell at midnight.”
Suddenly he flipped me beneath him, pinning my wrists to the bed, staring down at me with narrowed eyes. “You weren’t really going to kiss that fucking Mavs player on New Year’s, were you?”
I rolled my eyes. “What do you think?”
His crooked grin appeared, slow and sexy. “No way.”
“So you get it now, huh?” I took his face in my hands. “It was always you, Cole.”
“I get it now.” He kissed me softly. “I get you now. And I’ll never let go.”
Thirty-Four
Epilogue
Cole
“Is that what you’re going to wear?” Mariah assessed me from my bedroom doorway, her nose wrinkled.
I studied my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. “Yeah. What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s boring. You can’t wear a boring outfit to propose to Cheyenne.”
“Shhh!” I scolded, rushing to check the hallway to make sure Cheyenne wasn’t right there.
“Don’t worry. She’s downstairs on the phone with Aunt Blair.”
“Still.” I yanked her into the room and shut the door. “Keep your voice down. And I’m not wearing this to propose. I’m going to change before dinner.” I zipped up the weekend