Rock Hard (Rock Kiss #2)(100)

“Fine,” he said. “You agree to marry me the minute you sleep the entire night through in my bed.”

Having the vague feeling she’d been outmaneuvered after all, she nodded. “After you ask me properly.”

A shark smile that made her skin prickle, her blood hot. “Done.”





38


DON’T EVER NEGOTIATE WITH A DETERMINED CHARLIE-MOUSE





“I’M STAYING,” CHARLOTTE TOLD Gabriel that night. His smell, the feel of him, everything was familiar, made her feel utterly safe. It was time her subconscious got with the program.

And damn it, she wanted to marry him.

“Okay,” he said suspiciously agreeably.

Eyes slitted, she watched him, but when he yawned and closed his eyes, she snuggled close and let her own lashes grow heavy. She was almost asleep when it clicked. Her eyes flicked open. Sitting up, her butt on her heels, she poked at his pretend-sleeping body. “You sneak!” He’d made her agree to marry him if she slept the entire night through in his bed, conveniently forgetting the words with him.

An unrepentant grin as he opened his eyes. “You knew who you were negotiating with. Now”—a pat on her butt as he rose up onto his elbow—“I’m going to your room.”

“You do that and I’ll follow.”

“I’m bigger than you,” he said smugly. “I can pick you up and put you right back here.”

“I have legs. I’ll come back.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Snuggling down against his shoulder, one leg thrown over the deliciously hair-roughened skin of his, she closed her eyes. “Try to make me leave.”

A distinct snarl of a sound as he curved his arm around her, his hand on her bare butt. “You need a goddamn spanking.”

It was her grin that was smug this time. “I love you too.”

Yawning, she closed her eyes. They snapped open what felt like a heartbeat later, her pulse in her mouth. She was frozen, her muscles so stiff they felt as if they’d snap. She drew in a breath when her lungs protested, and the scent of Gabriel filled her lungs.

Gabriel.

Shuddering, she felt her muscles ease, her body aching. It took her a minute to realize what had wakened her. She was still on top of Gabriel, but he had his hand around her nape. Warm and strong and heavy and Gabriel. That’s all she had to remember. This was Gabriel. Breathing in and out, in and out, she closed her eyes.

It took conscious focus, but she eventually fell back asleep.

There were two more panic attacks, and Gabriel woke both times. “Shit, sorry,” he mumbled the first time and went to take his hand from her nape.

“Leave it,” she ordered, bad-tempered from lack of sleep. “I’m dealing.”

He massaged the back of her thigh. “You’re all tense.”

“I’ll get untense. Leave it.”

More massaging, and then he began to do that to her nape too. Gentle and firm, the rhythm eventually lulled her exhausted mind into slumber.

The next time she woke it was because she’d ended up under Gabriel and he had her pinned down with his leg and thigh.

“I know,” he mumbled. “Leave it.”

She just made an incoherent sound, her eyes gritty.




THE NEXT NIGHT, SHE woke them four times.

The night after that, it was twice.

The one after that, it was five times.

Exhausted to the bone by the time Friday night rolled around, she flopped into bed and said, “I’m not giving up.”

Lying on his stomach beside her, Gabriel reached out to twine his fingers with her own. “Neither am I. I already booked the f*cking wedding venue.”

She started to giggle, but it was slightly hysterical. Fighting back the tears, she kissed his knuckles. “I love you.”

Steel-gray eyes held her own. “You’re my heart.”

Holding the words to her own battered heart, she allowed her eyes to close.

She woke to find that they’d been so exhausted that neither one of them had moved, their hands entwined under the sunlight.

The sunlight!

Blinking, she stared at the clock on the nightstand. It was nine a.m. on a Saturday morning, and she was in bed with the man she loved. She turned very quietly and saw he was still asleep, his skin dark gold under the sunshine pouring through the skylight and his hair gleaming blue-black. When his lashes lifted lazily a half hour later, she said, “Never argue with my husband?”

A sleepy smile. “I was hoping you’d negotiate that out. You know I like fighting with you.” Tugging her into him, he reached into the bedside drawer on his side and, after taking out the ring, slid it onto her finger. “The black lace underwear clause is nonnegotiable, though I will permit red lace underwear on special occasions.”

Curling her fingers into her hand, the ring warm against her skin—as if it had absorbed his heat, she lay on her back with him leaning over her. “That’s a pity,” she said. “I’ll have to throw out that pretty blush-pink G-string set I bought.”

His eyes gleamed. “Like I said, Ms. Baird, there’s room for negotiation.” A slow, luscious kiss, his hand cupping the side of her face. “Marry me?”

“Yes,” she said, her heart wide-open. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”