Chapter Eleven
Harlow
"Wade?" I frown, a little worried when I find him on my porch in the middle of the day, pacing in circles with his hat in his hands like he's losing his mind.
He should be at the ranch right now, doing cowboy things.
Judging by the mud on his boots and the dust on his jeans, he's been doing cowboy things. "What are you—?"
"Marry me," he blurts.
I gape at him. "What?"
"Shit," he mutters. "I'm doing this all wrong."
"I…"
He sets his hat on the railing before lowering himself to his knees at my feet. My heart immediately goes wild in my chest, beating like a war drum.
"I had a whole speech memorized on the way over here," he says, reaching for my hand. "And then I pulled in, and forgot every damn word of it. So I'm just going to say what I need to say, and pray to God that you say yes when I'm finished. All right?"
I nod silently, my mouth too dry to speak.
"I love you. I love you in ways I didn't know it was possible to love someone until you, Harlow.
The minute you hosed me down and kicked me out of your bar, you claimed a piece of my heart.
You've been claiming pieces of it every fucking minute since then.
You're everywhere, every minute of the day, and that isn't going to change for me.
I belong to you on a level that's so permanent, it's written into the stars, beautiful.
And I've been carrying this ring around in my pocket since the day after you bailed me out of jail, because I know it's the same way for you. "
"It is," I rasp, tears spilling down my cheeks.
Every damn day, I love him a little bit more.
Sometimes, for the dumbest reasons. Because he hums when he cooks.
Because he's a terrible dancer. Because he can't manage to sit through an entire movie, but can sit on a stool at the bar, watching me all night long.
Because he's kind, and gentle, and fierce, and unrelenting, too.
Because, every day since I met him, he's felt like home and safety.
"I don't need more time to know that you're my future.
I don't need months or years to know that nothing I learn about you will change the way I feel about you.
I'm in love with you, every goddamn thing about you.
So I need you to marry me, beautiful," he rasps, reaching into his pocket, only to hold a diamond ring up between his fingers. "Please."
I stare at him and then at the way sunlight catches on the ring. "That's not the speech you rehearsed?"
"Not a word of it," he says solemnly.
I wipe tears from my cheeks. "Still a pretty good speech," I sniffle, wiping tears from my cheeks.
"Good enough for you to say yes?"
"No." My heart clenches when his face falls, torment in his gaze.
"But only because I don't need a speech," I quickly add, unable to stand that look.
God, it's painful. "I don't need convincing, Wade.
The day you took me to the art gallery, I decided to surrender to whatever this is and follow wherever you led.
That hasn't changed, not once since then.
I don't think it ever will. If you want to marry me, my only answer—my always answer—is yes. "
"Jesus," he rasps, his hands actually shaking. His head bows for a moment before he takes a breath and slips the ring on my finger.
I'm not sure who loves seeing it there more. But the way he looks at me? God, my whole body lights up like fireworks, every nerve ending screaming for him at the same time.
"Please," I whisper.
He doesn't need me to say anything else. He knows. He always knows.
He's on his feet in two seconds, dragging me into his arms. In two more, we're inside, tumbling to the floor just inside the door. Paint smears across his face when he kisses me, wild and joyful. I just cling to him, not caring if we're both covered in it.
He strips me with shaking hands and fervent kisses. I'm just as shaky when I try to undress him. He has to help me because my fingers won't work.
By the time we're naked, I'm so desperate, I could cry.
I don't have to, though.
"Eyes on me, beautiful," he croons, crawling between my legs.
I lock eyes with him, my legs over his shoulders.
He takes me to heaven with his mouth, never once looking away from me. I try like hell to hold his gaze, but when he wraps his lips around my clit, my back arches off the floor, my eyes closing. I come with a sharp cry, shattering to pieces.
I come back to myself with him inside me, cradling me against his chest. His lips are at my ear, his voice soft as he rumbles praise in my ear.
"Good girl," he breathes, rocking into me slow and deep. "You're such a fucking good girl when you come for me, Harlow. God, I could eat you for hours, just to watch you unravel for me."
"Wade," I whimper, locking my arms around his neck. I press my face against his throat, burning up for him. "I love you."
He trembles on top of me, the same way he always does when I say those words, as if he feels them on a molecular level. "I love you too, beautiful. Always."
His lips find mine, and I taste myself on him. I sob into his mouth, loving the way our tastes mingle. Loving the way he's so gentle and wild at the same time, whispering praise one minute and then pounding into me the next. He goes hard and deep, then so slow I feel like he's going to splinter me.
When we fall, we do it together, tangled up and drowning in bliss. I don't feel the floor beneath me. All I feel is him, everywhere.
"Iwant you to move in with me," he murmurs a little while later, cuddling me on the couch. My head is on his chest, his hands running through the strands. "Doesn't have to be today or tomorrow, but I want you with me."
"You want me on the ranch?"
"Yes."
"Okay," I agree.
His hand stills in my hair before he tilts my head back to meet my gaze. "Yeah? You're willing to move in with me?"
"Well, I mean, I just agreed to marry you, so yeah, Wade, I'm willing to move in with you.
" Truthfully, I probably would have agreed to move in with him days ago, if only because the man doesn't get nearly enough sleep.
He's too busy trying to be where I am, worried that Danny or some other cowboy is going to bother me.
At least on the ranch, he'd be able to relax a little bit.
He hauls me up his body until I'm straddling his lap. "When?"
"I guess after my last shift at the bar?" I loop my arms around his neck. "You'll be too busy stalking me until then to help me pack. And I refuse to pack alone."
"About that…"
"Packing? It sucks."
"Stalking you," he says, his lips twitching. He thinks it's funny when I call it that, but honestly, that's basically what it is. I just happen to like being stalked by him. "I won't be around as much once you start at the gallery."
"I'll be fine, Wade. Danny probably hasn't ever set foot in an art gallery. I highly doubt he'll make an exception just to piss you off," I murmur, resting my head against his shoulder.
"He can't. He's in jail."
I immediately lift my head, blinking at him. "What?"
"He's in jail," Wade repeats. "Dillon stopped by the ranch today to let me know they arrested him this morning on a bunch of felony theft charges."
"Really?"
Wade nods.
"Is that why you asked me to marry you?"
"Yes. No." He grimaces. "I've been carrying your ring around just like I said, beautiful.
I wasn't lying about that. And I've been dying to put it on your finger, but…
" He hesitates. "You've struggled enough in life.
I didn't want to add to it, so I thought it was best to wait until we knew whether or not I'd be going to jail or losing my job.
I couldn't ask when I wasn't sure I could promise to take care of you the way you deserve. "
"Wade," I whisper.
"You've done enough, Harlow," he murmurs.
"You took care of your mom. You've been taking care of yourself.
It's my turn to take over now. And I needed to make sure I could do it right.
" His thumb brushes my bottom lip. "I won't be something in your life that makes it harder.
I intend to be the man who makes it easier. Always, baby."
"You already make it easier," I whisper. "You don't have to provide for me or any of that. Just being with you makes me so fucking happy. That's all I need, Wade. Just you."
He groans softly, dipping his head to brush his lips across mine. "You have me, Harlow. You have me so fucking deeply."
"You have me too," I breathe against his lips. "Forever, Wade."
He groans again, lifting me just high enough to press his cock to my opening. "Show me," he growls, gently lowering me down on him.
I throw my head back, more than willing to show him exactly how he has me, as often and for as long as he wants.