used to his thoughtful silence. Rather than fill the air, I languidly nestled into his side.
Once we were through the elevator and the front door, I sighed happily, glad to be home.
As I turned to face him, I said, “What a perfect night—” before he interrupted me with a kiss.
It was a languid thing, a simmering heat. A slow tasting, a sweet savoring. I felt his hands on my waist, on my back, felt his solid body against mine. Every breath was filled with the earthy, elemental scent of him, my fingertips occupied with the feel of his velvet coat. But what arrested me most were his lips and the sweep of his tongue, the gentle way he told me without words how he loved me and how he hoped I loved him.
I do, I do, I do, I said with my silent mouth.
When he broke the kiss, his eyes never met mine, hung on my lips. He thumbed the swell of my bottom lip.
“Come with me.” His voice, low and raspy, woke something in me like a yawning cat, stretching and purring and content.
He took my hand and led me upstairs. I took the moment to admire him—his body was a marvel of broad shoulders and wide chest, tapered waist and strong legs. His stature sang of a timeless man, a man who could just as easily wield an ax for chopping wood or on an ancient battlefield. In these clothes, in this house, he was a tamed beast. And best of all, he was mine.
The lights were low in our bedroom, and when I moved to raise the dimmer, he stopped me. Once he had my gaze, he looked toward our bed, and I followed him, stilling when I saw what he’d intended.
On the smooth stretch of white comforter sat a small velvet box.
When I glanced back at him, flushed and unsure of what this meant, I caught him without armor, without walls, just a man who loved a woman enough for forever.
“Liam,” I breathed.
A flicker of a smile. His hand on the small of my back, nudging me forward.
In a trance, I floated toward the little box, my mind so full, it was empty of thought, filled with a thousand murmurs. The box was in my hand. A creak, and it was open.
In the dark cushion sat a diamond ring with a sizable, glittering stone. Somehow, it managed to look simple despite its ostentatious size, ringed with smaller diamonds that twinkled with the trembling of my hand.
When I turned to him, I found him on one knee.
“I wonder if you’ve always known that I love you,” he said, taking my hand. “Have you realized that I was empty until you? That my life wasn’t a life at all—it was four blank walls with no windows. I didn’t know until the day you forgave me. I didn’t know. Not until you. I know that I should wait. I know the responsible thing to do would be to wait the recommended year, have a long engagement, plan and prepare for the future. But I’ve done the responsible thing my entire life. I’ve planned and prepared. I’ve done what’s expected of me. But when it comes to the unexpected rightness of you, I don’t want to wait for our future. I don’t need time to know that I love you. For all of my certainty, I know this certainty above all—there is only you. There will only ever be you. Marry me, so we can start our future now. Marry me, because I will never be more sure than I am right now that I belong to you, and you belong to me. Marry me, so we can begin forever now.”
His eyes were touched with hope and fear—I saw them through a well of tears, driven to spill down my cheeks by my teeming heart.
Marry him, marry him, marry him, it whispered.
I had no words but one, the most important one, and it slipped out of me in a breath.
“Yes.”
His smile broke loose, and then he was standing. His arms around me, his lips pressed to mine. When he broke the kiss, it was to laughter, to faces held by loving hands, to eyes shining and hearts on fire, burning for each other.
He took the box from me, held the ring between his thumb and forefinger, held my left wrist so he could slide it down the length of my finger, where it would stay until the end of time.