Won’t Be Construed as Such
WON’T BE CONSTRUED AS SUCH
EXTON
Three months later
“Honey, I’m home,” I announce as I swing through the door of our D.C. condo, carrying Thai takeout
Willa’s glance meets mine before breaking into a smile. She sets her phone on the end table. “I thought I’d get tired of that, but I haven’t yet. Inside or on the balcony?”
“Ninety-five degrees outside,” I say, dropping my keys and wallet on the entry table.
“So?”
“And ninety percent humidity.”
The look of horror that spreads across her face is priceless. “So, inside then?” she replies, not missing a beat, and leads the way to our kitchen bar.
She grabs beer for me and water for herself as I set the containers in front of us and grab forks.
“Just hung up with Jackie. She’s out of rehab. She looks good, Exton. Better than I’ve seen her in a while. Her current project is to repair relationships the addiction messed up. So, today, I was that project.”
“I’m sorry. How’s she managing?”
“It’s okay. Don’t know how to trust her right now, but I don’t know how to not love her either. So fingers crossed”—she holds up her twisted fingers—“we can find a way. For now, that’s on her. I just need to not get my hopes up.”
I stretch a hand to her and she takes it, falling into my chest. I plunder her mouth and pull her tight to my chest.
“Love your heart. Love your kindness. Love you, Willa.”
Her eyes soften into pools of molten turquoise each time I say it. Aside from her eyes when I make her come, it’s my favorite look. Raw, happy, content, knowing she’s loved. Gorgeous.
“Love you too, Exton.”
We talk about our days over pad thai, green papaya salad, and curry. Old habits die hard, so I picked up tom kha, even though soup in June is nuts.
Willa’s picked up clients at a local shop. She updated her Instagram to tell people she’s in D.C., and that was all she wrote. She could work as much as she’d like but usually goes in three nights a week and is booked out for the next couple of months.
I hate that she’s out in D.C. at night alone, but we compromised and she Ubers the one mile home and meets me in bed.
My phone rings during dinner. Caller ID flashes Brax.
“You mind?” I ask, pointing to the phone.
“Go ahead. Tell him hi for me. Ask about Marron too?”
“Hey, Brax. You called during som tam,” I launch in.
“Is that some kind of yoga? You’re a Ranger for fuck’s sake. Act like one.”
I laugh. “It’s Thai food, but if that’s not masculine enough for you, I can find a slab of meat to smoke.”
“Dude. Don’t get weird on me. My life’s a shitshow.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Not wrong exactly, but hoping you’ll be home soon.” He pauses. “To meet your nephew.”
“What. The. Fuck. I was home in March. It takes longer than that. Right?” I look to Willa and open my eyes to saucers, mouthing baby to her. She chokes on food while I sit here, fork aloft, stunned.
“No shit, Sherlock. One-night stand.” He’s pacing from the sound of it, and I can hear exhaustion in his voice as he says, “Exton, he’s everything. And her family is going to fight for him. Need you, man. I’m going to need everyone at my back to fight for my son.”
“Will always be at your back, Brax. Just tell me where and when. And tell me as often as you need. Seriously. I’ll be there.”
His exhale says so much. “I haven’t slept in two days.”
“From worrying?”
“No. Crying baby, pooping baby, farting baby, eating baby. And his bitch of an aunt. That’s a whole other story.”
We talk for a few more minutes, until I hear a cry ring out across the line. Willa has stopped eating too, and simply stares at me.
“Braxton, before you go, gotta ask… Pop? He had to have made a condom comment. Cover your stump before you hump?”
“He went with no glove, no love.”
“Unoriginal.” I laugh before I can stop myself. “He must have been shocked.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Name the time and place, Brax. You know I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, Exton. Get back to your yoga shit.” With that, he disconnects.
I set the phone down and look back to cold Thai food and Willa.
“You want kids?”
“With you? Shit, that came out wrong. I mean, with you?”
Her head dips when she says it, shyly, very un-Willa. “Yeah.”
“Well, I’m guessing you should marry me then. Pop will lose his mind if all his boys have baby-mamas instead of wives.”
Willa’s mouth hangs open as if I just said something ridiculous. Maybe I did. But I know her. I love her. I want her. Forever.
Willa
Exton slides inside me. I’m wet from his earlier feasting and because it’s Exton in all his glory, fucking me deep. He slides out, holding my eyes. I stare right back.
“More,” I demand, trying to push down on him, which is virtually impossible from my position.
“Say yes.” He plunges in deep and pulls out again. On the verge, withholding himself from me.
“You didn’t ask.”
Another deep, hard stroke. “I did. And you haven’t answered.”
“You told me. You didn’t ask me.” I hold his eyes. We’ve never negotiated like this, but I’m confident I’d love to confer on any decision if this is how we compromise.
He rocks in fast and hard, lifting my hips. “Willa Jayne, be my wife.”
“Still telling me. You’re going to have to ask, Exton.”
He pumps mercilessly twice and withdraws to the top. “Well?”
“Same answer until you actually ask the question, Ranger.”
He thrusts, and I groan at the pleasure. “Ranger, huh?” Withdrawing again, he takes slow, lazy strokes, his thumb massaging my clit, stirring me deep. “Want to come, Willa?”
“I’m not agreeing to marry you at your command. And my ‘yes’ to my orgasm won’t be construed as such.”
His laugh vibrates deep in me and pushes me over the edge. I pulse around him, and he fucks me hard before finding his own orgasm and collapsing over me, spent. He rolls, taking me with him, still connected.
“Did you just say construed as such in the middle of sex?” He laughs again. “Willa Jayne, you’re the perfect woman.”
He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a velvet box.
When did he plan this?
Using his thumb to flip open the lid, I gasp. There, nestled in the velvet, is a ring, the likes of which I’ve never seen. A flat, round canary diamond sits in an Art Deco setting of French-cut sapphires, with more sapphires rounding the band.
My hand flies to my throat, and I choke back tears. “I… it’s… what—”
Exton sits up. His cock, not soft anymore, moves inside me, and a whimper escapes my mouth.
“Will you marry me, dragon slayer? Say yes and make me the happiest man alive.”
“You’re still telling me what to do.”
“Probably won’t change,” he replies, but I see the innocence in his eyes. “But you wound me… I’m inside you. I asked you to marry me, and you still haven’t said yes.”
“Of course, it’s a yes!” I fall on his mouth and roll my hips, clenching around him. “Yes, Exton Ranger, I will marry you.”
He kisses me deep and takes my hand, sliding the band onto my ring finger. It’s low and flat and so very perfect. My eyes flit between him and the ring.
“Now don’t get lazy on me, Willa Jayne soon-to-be-Ranger. Want you to ride me hard and chase your pleasure. Want to watch your eyes when you come and know I did that to you.”
“Your wish is my command.” I lift and roll my hips, allowing his hands to guide me.
“Hey, that’s my line,” he replies, and his laughter stops our conversation as we get lost in each other’s bodies and in each other.