Waiting for Willa (Big Sky, #3)(60)

“You’re going to die,” she says, shimmying in her seat. “Like, absolutely die.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t let me help you pick it out. I’m your fashion person.”

“I know.” She bites her lip. “I saw it online, and I just ordered it. It was a spontaneous decision.”

“You ordered a wedding dress without trying it on?” I ask, appalled.

“Yeah. You know a seamstress, right? In case it doesn’t fit?”

“Wait. It’s not here?”

“It arrives tomorrow.”

“That’s like two days before the wedding.”

She nods. “Yeah.”

I take a deep breath and laugh. “We’ve got this. I know people. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“You’ve broken her,” Christian says, laughing hard.

“I’m okay,” I reply.

“It’s going to be the best day ever,” Jenna says with confidence.

And I believe her.





Chapter Eighteen


Max


“YOU KNOW I LOVE Alex, right?” I walk into my house and toss my keys on the table inside the door, then pull Willa to me, kissing her soundly.

“But?” she asks with a smile.

“But, it’s convenient that there are grandparents around who enjoy a sleepover now and then.” I pick her up in my arms and head straight for my bedroom. “I’m not at the place where I’m comfortable having sex with him in the house yet.”

“And I love you for that,” she says, cupping my cheek. Every time she says those words, it’s a dart to my heart. “We’ll get there. Eventually.”

“If you weren’t a screamer, it wouldn’t be an issue.”

I grin when she scowls and dump her onto the bed.

“I’m not a screamer.”

“I beg to differ,” I reply as I peel her jeans down her legs and toss them over my shoulder. “You’re a vocal lover.”

“I can’t help it,” she says and reaches for my shirt, tugging it up so she can kiss my stomach. “It’s your fault.”

“I’m not sorry.”

Both of us naked now, I crawl over her, pinning her under me, and nibble her mouth from one corner to the other.

“You’re so fucking amazing,” I mutter against her lips, making her grin. “You turn me on all the damn time.”

“Good. Because it’s the same for me.” She pulls her knees back in an invitation that I’ll never be able to resist, and I slide home, buried balls-deep. “Oh, my God.”

“See? Vocal.”

She bears down, squeezing me, and I groan in pleasure.

“I’m not the only one.”

I bite her lower lip and cup her jaw, continuing to kiss her as I move in a fast rhythm, relishing how damn good she feels.

“You’re mine, Willa Elizabeth,” I whisper. Her eyes open, and she stares at me with those big, brown eyes that never fail to pull me under her spell. “For now and always, you’re mine. I want you to be my wife. I need you with me always, Wills.”

She plunges her fingers into my hair, holding me close.

“I am yours,” she says as I tip my forehead against hers. “And it would be the biggest honor of my life to be your wife.”

I stop and gaze down at her, shocked at what just happened.

I proposed.

She said yes.

There was no ring, no fancy dinner or flowers. Just my heart and hers, making the promise of a lifetime.

***

“My car will finally be done on Monday,” she announces thirty minutes later. We’re sitting in my dark kitchen, eating the leftover pizza. She’s wearing my black T-shirt and panties, and her dark hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders.

She’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Okay.”

“It’s about time.”

“It’s fine.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “It’s time for me to have it back. They’ve been working on it forever.”

“Keep the Range Rover,” I reply. “I don’t use it, Willa. And you love it.”

“I do,” she admits with a sigh. “But that’s a lot. I can’t afford to pay you for it.”

I stop eating and narrow my eyes at her. “You’re going to be my wife. What’s mine is yours anyway.”

“No way.” She shakes her head. “I’ll be signing a prenup.”

“Fuck that.”

“I will not fuck that. I’ll sign a prenup. Max, your financial planners would deck you for even considering not having one.”

“And I’d fire them.”

“This is not an emotional decision. It’s business, and it makes sense. If you think you’ll get half of Dress It Up, you have another thing coming.”

My lips twitch as I watch her take another bite of her pizza. “We’ll talk about it later. In the meantime, keep the car. You can sell the other one.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she says, echoing me. “Did you propose because of all the wedding talk at dinner tonight?”