One Bossy Offer (134)

I can’t finish.

Not when she looks at me with green eyes so soft they reach to my depths, lighting everything in witchfire.

“And?”

“And I’m terrified of you, truth be told.”

“What?” She gives me a startled laugh. “Yeah, right. Because I’m so scary.”

I lift her hand and kiss it.

“I’ve lost practically everyone I’ve ever loved. Nothing hurt like losing you, knowing you were still here. Somehow, knowing it was my fault—knowing I fucked up and made it happen—seemed better than you leaving me on your own.”

Her lips are on mine in a heartbeat.

Our tongues mingle until she breaks away.

“You should have just told me, Miles. There’s no chance I’d ever leave you.”

“I see that now,” I growl, finding her lips again.

We kiss like the love starved creatures we are until we tumble backward on the bed.

Then we lie there tangled up in each other, neither of us making any effort to move.

It’s languid and sweet and so intense it’s almost blinding.

It isn’t even sex—that’s bound to come later—but goddamn, it’s enough.

Her head rests on my chest where it belongs.

Her legs lock around my thigh.

Finally.

I won my kitten back.

“I love you, Jennifer Landers,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers.

She kisses me with a fluttery moan.

This time, her nimble fingers move to the top button of my shirt.

Undressing her feels like unwrapping a present I’ve waited my entire lifetime for.

Sinking into her mends my soul.

Every stroke brings us to another level of heaven we never reached before.

When I release in her and she goes off gloriously in a fit of shaking ecstasy, her screams barely muffled against my shoulder, I’m fucking home.

I’m home, and they’ll need an entire SWAT team to evict me from this woman again.

Waking up with her a few hours later is paradise, and this time, I won’t let it slip away.





Two Months Later





I look out the window at the dusting of snow, standing impatiently inside the tiny jewelry shop in Pinnacle Pointe.

My own reflection gazes back in the glass.

“Are you sure about this? You haven’t been back together that long,” Benson reminds me with a severe look.

I cock my head. “We’re back together for good, and I’m done delaying my future. You know that.”

He smiles. “I do. But you made me promise years ago to check your mental health if you ever planned on tying the knot.”

“I said that?” I stare at him in silence, catching my reflection in the window again.

It stops me in my tracks.

He looks like the same Miles Cromwell, but I’m looking at a different man.

“You did. So, one more time, are you sure, Miles? And are you certain you need to do it next week?”

“Surer than I’ve ever been in my life.” I mean it.

I want Jenn to have my name.

I want her in my house every night, eating my cooking and curling up with me and walking around in nothing but a robe.

I want her with me, wearing my ring and my t-shirts.

I even want her crazy dogs crowding up our bed and snoring in my ear.

“You could have found a better selection in Seattle,” Benson says.

“Yeah, the wrong kind. I know my kitten. She’ll enjoy an antique far more than something flashy.”

The jeweler comes to stand behind the case I’m looking at. “Can I help you with something?”

I point at a yellow gold ring with an oval diamond centerpiece. The two teardrop diamonds are arranged to touch at the points resting on both sides of the oval. The band is carved into roses, and in the middle, something too perfect.

“Benson, what does that look like?” I turn to look at him.

He leans over to see where I’m pointing and squints. “I think I see...a bee in a rose bush?” His eyebrows dart up. “Wow. I guess it’s meant to be after all.”

That’s all the confirmation I needed.

I’m already grinning like a sappy goddamned fool.

“Give me that one,” I tell the jeweler.

The man takes it out of the case. “This ring might be a little hard to size with the intricate metal work. I can’t guarantee I can make it perfect without disrupting the pattern.”

“I borrowed the ring her grandmother gave her last week so I could get a size. If it’s not a good fit, I’d like to have one just like it made. This is my wife’s ring,” I say matter-of-factly, taking Jenn’s ring from my pocket and handing it to the jeweler.

Benson chuckles. “She hasn’t said yes yet.”

“And? I’m a good negotiator.”

He laughs louder. “I have a feeling if you call your proposal a negotiation, Miss Landers will slap you.”

“Whatever. I’ve got this.”

And I do.

I don’t tell Benson that when I say I’m good at negotiations, I mean I’ll give that woman anything she wants to be mine.

She already knows I can’t live without her.

“This is perfect,” the jeweler says a little while later.