Chapter 11
ELEVEN
NANCY
It’s not until I’m breathless and kissed thoroughly that my words come back to me.
Marry me tomorrow, Karl Hore. What would that even look like?
We can’t. There's no way, but the idea of doing it and then telling my parents sends a thrill through me. The ultimate rebellion isn’t spending time with this man. It’s becoming his wife.
It’s irrational, childish, and possibly insane, but I don’t feel the tug in the pit of my stomach.
I don’t have the urge to laugh and tell him I’m only kidding.
Instead, I focus on the look on his face when I said those words.
I lick my swollen lips and remember the way he kissed me.
We can always have it annulled. Marriage isn’t permanent.
We can shrug it off as a silly decision later.
That’s what celebrities seem to do nonstop.
“When’s your birthday?” Karl asks as his fingers trail down the thigh I’ve thrown over his leg. We’re still fully clothed, other than our feet, but the way my skin tingles under his touch has me momentarily forgetting that there’s a barrier there.
“August twenty-third,” I answer.
“Do you want kids?”
“Desperately.”
“How many?”
“Four,” I proclaim without thinking.
“How do you feel about cows?”
“I think they’re lovely. Especially their eyes.” Karl smiles, his gentle eyes shining back at me.
“What should we have for our wedding meal?”
“Pancakes with heaps of butter and maple syrup,” I joke.
“Plain or blueberry?”
“Blueberry!” He kisses me quickly.
“Did OJ do it?”
“Oh, absolutely,” I say, dragging him back down for another kiss. “Saddest movie you’ve ever seen?”
He leans back, his expression serious as he thinks. “The Fox and the Hound,” he finally says.
I’m trying to remember the movie but can’t seem to figure out what was sad about it.
“It’s silly.” Karl shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling. “When Copper tells Todd he doesn’t want to be friends anymore.” He’s actually blushing at his admission.
“That’s—” I begin.
“Silly,” he says. “As I admitted.”
I roll my eyes. “I was going to say, sweet.” Seriously, the saddest part in a movie for this man I’ve agreed to marry is a dog telling a fox he can’t be his friend anymore? I don’t know what to do with this revelation, but I want to hug it or frame it, or something.
“What about yours?”
I sigh, getting sad just thinking about it. “My Girl.”
“I think I remember someone talking about bees or wasps or something. Oh, and his—”
“Don’t,” I shout, covering his mouth with my hand, knowing exactly what word he was going to say next.
He nods, and I remove my hand when I’m positive he’s not going to say the word “glasses.”
“Is The Nightmare Before Christmas a Halloween or a Christmas movie?” I ask quickly, hoping to think of something less sad.
“Halloween, obviously,” he says without missing a beat. “Oh no, don’t tell me, you think it’s a Christmas movie?”
I pull my lips in and nod sheepishly. “Is that a deal breaker? Will you be taking back your proposal?”
He shakes his head, wearing an adorable smirk. “It’s going to take a lot more than that for me to even consider doing that. What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“I…” I have no idea, I think. My future was always told to me. This is the first time someone has asked what I want. I realize I could do anything now. I watch as he searches my face as if the answer is there, clear as day. “I don’t know yet. I’ve never thought about it.”
His eyes go wide, shocked by my answer, and I ready myself for the inevitable question of how that could be. But he shocks me right back. “You don’t have to decide right now,” he assures me.
“What about you?” I ask as my fingers play with one of his shirt buttons.
“I want to be a farmer like my dad. I want to be a good husband and father. I want to provide for people. I want to be loved as much as I love.”
My eyes burn as tears form, imagining him being all those things without me. He brushes his thumb across my cheek, catching the tears as they fall.
“What’s wrong, dearest?” His voice is so soft I barely hear the question.
“You’ve got it all figured out.”
“I have hope, Nancy, but it’s not all figured out. I can only control so much, after all.”
“Teach me.” I snuggle in closer.
“Hope? I’m not sure I can teach it quickly. Probably going to take years of tutelage.”
“Years?”
“Mmmhmm.” His head dips, and he begins kissing my neck, moving slowly up to my jaw, eventually making his way back to my lips. “Years of lessons.”
“When do we start?” I breathe.
He pulls back, breaking our kiss and leaving me wanting more. “We started the minute you came back yesterday.” He rolls us so he’s on top of me, holding most of his weight on his elbows.
I spread my legs, and his hips settle between my thighs as he lowers himself to capture my mouth again. I can’t imagine getting tired of the taste of him. I can only see myself craving him, always.
His hips dip, his jeans not doing a thing to hide his erection. Tilting my pelvis to meet him, and he releases a strangled moan into my mouth as I reach for his jeans and desperately try to get his belt undone without breaking the kiss. Karl kneels back and captures my hands.
“We don’t have time,” he groans.
“But…” He drags my arms above my head before returning to his previous position above me, halting my words with a kiss.
Truthfully, I don’t care about time right now.
Time is the very last thing on my mind, but I don’t argue.
I relax my arms and focus on the feel of where his body connects with mine.
I’ve never gotten off this way, but goddamn, I may if he keeps this up.
His one hand leaves my wrists, and he reaches down to lift my knee, the shift bringing our bodies even closer.
“Fuck,” he pants as his hips speed up.
Fuck indeed.
I can feel the pressure building throughout my body, intensifying as his tongue slides up the sensitive skin of my neck.
When his teeth graze my skin, I explode in a sea of silver stars.
He slows his pace but keeps contact, pressing against me as I come down from the stratosphere.
When I’m limp, he kisses me thoroughly, and when he begins to pull away, I trap him by wrapping my legs around his hips.
“You didn’t?” I question when I see his flushed face.
“This wasn’t about me.” He bends to kiss me again. “This was about making you feel good. Feel good?”
“Was it not obvious?”
He smirks, exactly like he did while wiping my shoe yesterday. Fuck… yesterday. I just dry-humped a guy I met yesterday and told him to marry me tomorrow. I can’t keep the giggle that rises through me in, and I throw my arms over my face, trying to hide all the emotions racing through me.
“Don’t hide from me,” he says, gently moving my arms back above my head. “I want to see every thought and feeling that crosses that gorgeous face.”
“I’ve never done that,” I say quietly.
“You’ve never planned a wedding and dry-humped a guy twenty-four hours after meeting him?”
“Would you believe it?”
He studies me like he’s committing every pore, follicle, and eyelash to memory. “I'm going to believe that I’m the only guy you’ve ever even wanted to do either of those things with.” There he goes, somehow knowing me better than anyone else again. “Am I right?”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and nod as it slips free.
“Tomorrow,” he states confidently as he slides off the end of the bed and offers me his hand. “Tomorrow I’ll let you do whatever you want to me or not do to me.” He looks at the clock on the microwave and sighs. “Back to reality, I’m afraid.”