Chapter 11 #2
Turning her to face him, he moved forward a little so that she could wrap her legs around his waist as she sank down and took him in. His long lean body shuddered as her tightness closed around him. For a few seconds, he just held her as the fragrance from the steam rose up around them.
Her hands went around his neck, her body arching. With a tortured groan, he seized her lips, the kiss spinning and spinning. Her body reacted instantly. It started out slow, but within seconds the control had snapped.
Water sloshed over the rim, pooling on the greenish-blue tiles. But they never noticed. He went from her mouth to her throat and then thank Jesus! To her aching nipples. She climaxed again, her body seizing.
With his mouth on her nipples, he tasted the fragrance from her bath. He tasted her. His blood boiled as desire brimmed over, taking him along for the ride. He plunged into her over and over again. He would never get enough. It would never be enough.
Lifting his head as he reached the peak, he gazed at her, all the love he was feeling in his eyes. A gasp escaped her and tears came, streaming down her cheeks to mix with the moisture from the bath. He kissed her cheeks gently, sipping at the water and tasting her tears.
"I love you." His voice was velvet rough, a symphony of his love for her. "I love you." He could repeat it over and over again. There was no shame, no hesitancy. A lack of pride that had her breath hitching. Just a simple statement of fact. Something that came out of an overflowing heart.
"I love you." He trailed kisses from her eyes to her cheek and then to the seams of her lips. When he took her lips again, gentle, gentle, gentle, the orgasm burst through him like a flood.
There were no needs for further words, nothing more was needed. She buried her face in his throat, her body still trembling. Holding her tight, he closed his eyes.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were their quiet breaths and the gentle lapping of water against porcelain.
The steam curled softly around them, a warm cocoon that shielded them from the outside world.
In that space, time seemed to slow. Every touch, every sigh lingered, weaving them closer together.
The intimacy between them was palpable, a silent promise that neither was willing to break.
She couldn't stop crying and told herself it was hormones. She was a five-month-old pregnant woman with twins, so naturally everything was doubled. She cried more often, felt more of everything.
And how could she not feel when the man insisted on carrying her from the bath to the bedroom and was now toweling her dry? How was she supposed to stay mad at him or even keep her emotions at bay when he was rubbing cream all over her body? And all the while his magnificent body on full display.
She had to consider herself as the most fortunate woman in the known universe and the biggest fool. He loved her. She was never going to find anyone who loved her more. He enjoyed taking care of her, even when she resisted. He asked her just one thing and she had yet to say yes. Well, then.
She watched as he went to the armoire and pleasured herself by admiring the hard taut lines of his back and firm buttocks. The long legs, with the covering of dark hairs. The man was mouth wateringly handsome and all hers. Why not make it official?
Waiting until he came back with the nightgown, she sat up and pulled her arms through the sleeves.
"I was thinking we could have something to eat in bed."
"That will have to wait." She could have waited to set the tone. Candles, soft music and a bottle of Costa Indulgence on ice, but she wanted to do it now.
"You should be starving--" His brow lifted when she took both his hands in hers and held on.
"What is it?"
She took a shaky breath, her eyes glistening with tears and resolve.
With his hands clasped tightly in hers, she searched his face for a moment, steadying herself.
"I want to marry you," she whispered, voice raw and honest, the words tumbling out as if they'd been waiting forever.
The weight of her admission hung in the air, electrifying the space between them, transforming uncertainty into hope.
He went still as a mouse, his heart pounding, drowning out everything else as he stared at her. "I'm sorry, what?"
"You're going to make me repeat it. All right. Here it is. I love you--" She shook her head when he opened his mouth. "Quiet. Just let me get it out."
"I love you more than I can ever express and as a writer with a great deal of imagination and a hell of a talent for writing these scenes, words suddenly fail me.
I want to spend the rest of my life with you.
You make me feel safe and secure. I never thought I would ever want a man to take care of me until I met you. "
"I never thought I would ever feel this way about another person, until you. So, I want to marry you. Now. Soon. Tomorrow. I don't want a big ceremony. We could get married at the pub or here. It doesn't matter. I just want you as my husband. So, what do you say?"
He wasn't sure he could say anything. He had waited for this ever since he met her and now that she had said the words, he had no idea how to feel. She was saying yes.
"Oscar."
He blinked at her and focused. "Quite a long speech." His voice was unsteady. He had to be happy that he was sitting, or he knew without a doubt he would be hitting the floor. "I'm still processing."
"Do it faster."
"Where's the ring?"
"What?"
"The ring darling." He was getting his composure back, some of it at least. "When someone proposes, it's tradition to have a ring handy."
She gave him a cool look. "Go and get it from your desk drawer, if that's what you want."
He stared at her with narrowed eyes. "You think I have a ring in my desk drawer?"
Her smile was smug. "Not think. Know. The lap drawer has been locked for weeks."
"It could be contracts, confidential documents--"
"Have you changed your mind about marrying me?"
"At this moment, yes."
"Ah well then--" When she started to pull her hands away, he held on.
"I'm naked."
"So?"
"I should put some clothes on." He grinned at the flash of fire in her gorgeous eyes. "And I'm done." Letting go of her hands, he hauled her into his arms and buried his face between her neck and shoulder and just breathed her in.
"The answer is yes. Bloody yes. I'm overcome and undone.
" His voice was thick with the myriad of emotions coursing through him.
"I've wanted that since the first time I met you.
And I have been keeping the ring to start badgering you again.
" He lifted his head and the look on his face stole her breath clean.
"I want it to be soon too, but my family--"
"Will want to help in the preparation and planning." Her smile faltered. "My mother--" She cleared her throat. "I'll tell her--"
He shook his head, hands framing her face. "There's no longer an 'I.' It's us. We'll tell her out of courtesy. If she wants to be part of it, then it's up to her. But I will be damned if she's going to spoil it for us."
She smiled, loving him more, if that was at all possible.
She reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, her touch gentle and lingering. "We're in this together now, and I wouldn't have it any other way." Her voice was soft but steady, filled with conviction. "Whatever happens, we'll face it side by side."
She smiled a little unsteadily. "I came up here, determined to hold the mad inside me for as long as I could. Told myself that it was deserving and it was, but then the anger seemed to melt down the drain."
"Darling, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. You and these babies inside me. It's strange I never thought any of this was what I wanted until you came along." She moved in and laid her forehead on his and simply breathed. "Thank God."
He held her for a minute more, hands stroking her back.
"We need the rest of the wine." Easing her away from him, he rose. Taking one last look at her, he went first to the bathroom to grab the almost full bottle of wine before going into his office.
Taking the small key from a hook near his desk, he opened the drawer and took out the black velvet box. She was going to be surprised and delighted he hoped. It was not a traditional ring, but one that had been in his family for generations.
Nestled inside the velvet was a ring unlike any other, its pale sapphire gleaming with understated elegance, surrounded by a delicate halo of tiny diamonds.
Oscar paused for just a moment, running his thumb over the intricate setting, thinking of the generations before them who had worn it and cherished its significance.
He took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the weight of history as well as hope, and returned to her side, the box held reverently in his hands.
"It's an heirloom. But if you want something else, we can--"
"Gimme." She held out her left hand.
"All right." Flipping the tiny clasp open, he took it out, eyes never leaving her face as he watched for her reaction. "It's old--"
"It's exquisite and so me. Put it on baby."
He slid it on slowly. It was a perfect fit. Lifting her hand, he brushed his lips over the ring, his eyes bright. "Thank you," he whispered hoarsely. "For the best of my life."