Chapter 35 #2
Heat climbed my throat, and I went to laugh at the prank she had to be playing, but no sound came out. I was left open-mouthed as she realised, her own lips parting, brows knitting. “Did it… not fit?” she begged.
My pulse fluttered in the wrist she gripped.
I cleared my throat and pulled my hand back from her freezing hold. “That’s not… that’s not what he asked.”
My feet still kept me standing, but it felt like my body was rocking, my knees numbing.
“Let’s just be clear here. You’re talking about an engagement ring.”
“Not—no. Not necessarily.” But her voice was tight with the lie.
“I need to sit down,” I said and led the way into the open space, collapsing into one of the dining chairs.
“It’s okay, right?” she cried, pacing behind my chair while I looked around the home I’d always wanted. A place that had become a comfort to my soul. “He was… he’ll do it. I haven’t ruined the surprise, have I? Fuck, Helena, you get too excited!”
I let her scold herself, feeling my rapid heartbeats through his jumper. There was no movement out in the garden. They hadn’t been gone long.
“Why do you think he’s proposing?” I almost had the emotional bandwidth to be proud of how calmly I asked.
She sat opposite me, but my vision was blurred with shock. “Back before, when our pipe burst when we came and stayed here… he asked if he could have the ring his Dad gave me. My engagement ring.”
That had been in August. We’d hardly been together six weeks then.
“And, of course, I said yes. I had some questions first, though.”
The wind picked up, and the trees rustled; a flock of birds took off. Zolt wasn’t here.
“He told me he’d found the woman who made him want to live again. The woman he loved more than anything — even racing. He said he’d give it all up for her if she asked. It was all hypothetical then, of course.”
We’d been together six weeks.
And he knew.
All those times I’d worried about us lasting, and he’d never faltered.
I hadn’t lied when I said I wanted it all with him — engagement, marriage, children.
“Can we pretend this didn’t happen?” she begged. “I was never here.”
“No,” I said. I might go and snoop, find it, and just place it on my finger. It was rash, a bit soon, unadvised, but… The smile brightened my face. I could feel the shift. “I’m not keeping secrets from him. I’m going to tell him you accidentally let it slip. I’ll emphasise it wasn’t on purpose.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “I’d rather not be here for that conversation, if you don’t mind.”
And she stood, not having taken her coat off, but said, “I meant it. Welcoming you to the family. Again. We’ve missed you, Fia. Zolt’s missed you so much.”
I nodded, but the world blurred again as I clutched my left hand, stroking my bare ring finger as booming barks sounded out of the forest. She scattered, the door closing loudly behind her.
Zolt came in with the rush of dogs, shrugging off his coat and rubbing his gloved hands together. “Fuck, it is cold.” He said it in English and looked at me with a chuffed smile. When I didn’t respond, his face fell, and he was at my side in seconds. “What’s wrong?”
I laughed to put him at ease, but it came out twisted and strangled. “Your mum just asked me where my engagement ring was.”
He sat beside me, the chair scraping against the wood floor as he inched it closer to me. “My mum? What?”
“She ran out of here when she realised her mistake.” I turned to him, cocking my head to the side, and wanted to put him out of his misery. “Do you have her engagement ring? And… were you planning on using it?”
He couldn’t speak for shock, staring at where our knees touched.
“Because I want it,” I said. “Not right this second. Not like this. But… I’m telling you, when you want to ask it, I’ll be here. Waiting.”
“I asked her for it after our day in London when we were there for your Dad’s birthday.”
The air rushed out of my lungs. It wasn’t six weeks. It was less than one.
My pulse fluttered all over — wrists, throat, between my thighs.
“You’ve thought of us for that long?”
“Longer,” he promised. “Every day. Every night.”
“Even when I left?”
His chair scraped again as he crossed the gap between us. “Especially when you left. I’d imagine you here. Wearing my jumper. Waiting for me.”
With his thumb, he brushed under the hem of his jumper, high up my thigh. I shivered, my thighs clenching. “Just like this?” I gestured to myself.
His breath hitched, his mouth lifted into a lopsided grin. “Exactly like this.”
A comfortable silence fell between us — the wind rattled the windows, the dogs panted — but my entire vision was him.
“Come here,” he said and tugged at my thighs until we were both standing, his fingers kneading my ass with strong hands that made me melt.
They travelled higher, skin on skin under his jumper.
He kissed the shell of my ear and murmured, “You drive me crazy. Sitting there, looking like that, in my clothes, talking about rings and forever. Fuck, Zsófia.”
My eyes rolled back at my name. “Take me to our bed, Zoltán. Now.”
He laughed into my neck, half broken, half hungry. His lips travelled up until they reached my mouth, and he kissed me and lifted me to sit on the edge of the dining table. “I need you now. Here.”
“Here?” My voice cracked, exposing my desperate need.
“Here,” he growled, forehead against mine. “I’ve waited long enough, Fia.”
I nodded, my head scraping his, and one hand fisted in his hair as my other bunched his jumper against his abs, needing to touch him. He brushed gentle, slow fingertips against the seam of my panties, and I trembled.
“I’ve missed this,” he said and bit softly on my bottom lip.
“Mmm,” I moaned into his mouth, tugging him down to kiss me, deep and messy.
“Tell me it’s too fast,” he said. “Tell me to stop.”
“No,” I cried, pulling him closer, tighter. “I’ve been aching for you.”
His throat rumbled as he closed his eyes, fingers dipping below the elastic of my underwear. “Say that again.”
“I’ve been aching for you.”
“Fuck,” he mumbled and ran his fingertips down my slit, and I gasped, jolting forward against his chest. “You’re so wet.”
He circled my clit with slow, torturous precision.
“So wet and ready for me, aren’t you?”
My nails dug through the wool of his jumper as I clung to him, rocking shamelessly against his hand, the table creaking beneath me. “Yes, yes, yes—” my voice broke as he thrust two fingers into me. I held him tighter, lost to the sensation of him stretching and filling me.
“That’s it,” he cooed. “You want everything? You’ll take everything.”
His fingers curled inside me, and I was biting at his jaw as he held my back, keeping me still for his thorough finger fuck.
I could hardly think — hardly speak — hardly breathe with pleasure, but I needed more.
I needed him.
“Please,” I rasped, rocking into his palm, rotating my hips. “I need you to fill me up. I need you inside of me.”
“Fuck,” he grunted. He gripped my hips and dragged me to the edge of the table, spread my legs wide, and kissed me, lapping at my tongue with slow strokes.
“Zolt—”
“I know, I know, baby.”
In. Fucking. English.
I groaned, throwing my head back because I was done. If he didn’t fuck me, I would simply die.
He shoved his joggers down just enough, and I whipped off my jumper, ready to be held.
“Look at me,” he said, tilting my head with his finger so I couldn’t see the cock I’d missed so much. He pressed it to me, and I licked my lip at the hot weight of him against my clit. “I love you, if you didn’t know.”
“I love you more.”
With a sharp, guttural noise, he buried himself inside me with one, desperate thrust. I cried out, the burn quickly shifting to the pleasure I always associated with him, and pulled at his jumper, needing to feel his skin on mine.
With each thrust, I gasped, trying to get the material higher, but my fingers trembled, weakened under the bliss that was Zoltán.
We’d nearly lost this. Us.
He lowered me against the table, my back hitting the cold wood. Without breaking his steady beat, he pulled his jumper over his head and pressed his chest against mine, hand on my lower stomach so I could feel him pressing against every one of my walls.
I broke first, clawing at his back, inhaling his scent, biting down on his shoulder to smother my choked cry.
He followed soon after, spilling inside of me with a grunt. He held my hair tight against my head. “You’re staying.”
“I’m staying,” I promised and kissed his nose.