For a second after I get the words out he stands so still that he might be a figure in a wax museum. The ring—in all its clumsy glory—is held aloft. It took Jess and me a whole lot of Skittles and patience before we figured out which of her craft glues would stick, and how long we had to wait before addingeach successive bead. It all seemed quite sweet and hilarious last night.
Now I wasn’t sure.
Wes’s chin dips, and something goes wrong in my stomach. He’s backlit against the cityscape so I can’t see his face. I take a few steps closer, even though I’m afraid I really fucked things up. But I have to know.
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. And then his eyes well up, all shiny in the window light. “Really?” he rasps.
I take the silly thing out of his hand and drop it in the box. I set it down on the desk. “Yeah. I mean, not right away if you need some time to get your head around it…”
Two strong hands grab me by the shirt and haul me into his arms. “I don’t…” He takes a deep breath that sounds a lot like a choked-back sob. “Don’t need time to think about it. Wanna marry you this summer before you change your mind.” His arms clamp around me, extinguishing all the space between us, and he puts his head on my shoulder. I feel his chest hitch a couple of times as he tries to hold himself together.
“Hey,” I whisper. “I’m not going to change my mind.”
“But you…” He clears his throat yet again. “It’s a bigger decision for you than me. You could have, you know, a wife and kids. A family.”
“Babe, I have a family. A big one. I never sit around and think about moving to the suburbs and procreating.”
“You might, though,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I wanted to give you a while to get used to the idea of being with me and not having…that.”
“Who says we can’t?” I point out.
He blinks.
“If we decide we want to have kids someday, there are ways for us to do that, babe. Adoption. Surrogates.” I lightlypinch his ass. “Stop acting like you’re dooming me to a life of childless misery.”
That makes him chuckle.
“Iloveyou,” I say firmly. “I never stopped, even when things felt bleak. And then I watched your interview and I just needed to be right here. The, uh, plane ticket wasn’t very budget friendly, but…”
He finally leans back to look at me. His face is kind of wrecked, but he’s never looked better to me. “I’m going to send that reporter a nice bottle of scotch. And a box of cubans.”
Then he kisses me. He tastes like tears andWes. I dive right in. Damn, I missed this. The way he kisses me like he’s trying to make a point. And now I know what the point is.
We’re supposed to be together. Why not make it official?
Suddenly my body decides on a whole host of ways we’re supposed to be together. I press against his hard chest and deepen the kiss. He grabs my hips and groans.
It’s only a nanosecond later when I’m yanking on his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He’s unzipping my jeans and steering me toward the bed. Before I can blink, I’m on my back, my shirt off and my jeans at my ankles, and Wes’s hot mouth is taking deep pulls on my dick.
Pleasure darts from my shaft to my balls. I tangle my hands in his messy hair and thrust deeper into his mouth, floored by the eagerness, thepassion, he’s giving to this blowjob. He licks and sucks and nibbles every inch of me, and I groan when he pops his finger into his mouth before dragging it down the crease of my ass.
At the teasing penetration, my hips jerk upward. Wes chuckles and eases his finger deeper, until the pad of it is stroking my prostate. My entire body trembles. Tingles. Burns.He spends a maddeningly long time torturing me with his mouth and finger—no, fingers. He’s got two inside me now, rubbing that sensitive place and bringing white dots to my eyes.
“Wes,” I murmur.
He raises his head. His gray eyes are smoky with desire. “Hmmm?” he says lazily.
“Stop fucking teasing me and start fuckingfuckingme,” I rasp.
“Fucking fucking you? Did you really need two fuckings?”
“One’s an adverb and one’s a verb.” My voice is as tight as every muscle in my body. I’m about to go up in flames if he doesn’t make me come.
His laughter warms my thigh. “I love the English language, dude. It’s so creative.”
“Are we really having this conversation right now?” I growl when his teeth sink into my inner thigh. His fingers are still lodged inside me, but no longer moving.
“What would you rather talk about?” He blinks not so innocently, knowing exactly how close to the edge I am.
