Later, when the food is gone and the wine is finished, I sit on the floor beside the sofa, watching the way the flames throw shadows up the walls. He’s stretched out above me, eyes closed, the lines of his face carved deep by the light. I trace the edge of his jaw with my finger, memorizing the place where bone gives way to stubble, where stubble softens to skin.
He’s different tonight. Lighter, somehow. Like he’s shed something, some part of himself that used to be made of elite snobbery and hate.
He opens his eyes, catches me watching. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, but it’s not true.
He waits.
“I just… didn’t expect any of this.”
He scoffs. “I’m not a romantic. I’m more of a throw you over my shoulder and spank you, type of guy.”
I laugh, sharp. “You’re so fucking weird, you know that?”
“Yeah. But you’re weirder.”
He says it like a compliment.
I reach up, tangle my fingers in his hair, and pull him down to kiss me.
His mouth is hot, insistent, but not desperate. He takes his time, mapping the inside of my lips, the place where my teeth meet. He pulls back, just far enough to see my face, then kisses my eyelids, one after the other.
“I like this,” he says.
“Me too.”
He slides down, lays his head on my lap, closes his eyes again. I thread my fingers through his hair, slow, pulling out the tangles one at a time.
He sighs, content.
I wonder if anyone has ever cared for him before. If anyone has ever run their hands through his hair, or made him soup, or kissed the places that hurt.
I don’t think so.
I think about how lucky I am, to have found this thing. This person who is more weapon than man, but who holds me like I’m the only thing that matters.
I think about how much I want it to last.
He takes a deep breath before sitting, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little black box.
My face must look ridiculous because my jaw drops open and he chuckles, using one finger to close it.
“The real reason I did all of this was to ask you to be my wife.”
“I… what? Colton!”
“I know, I know. It’s not the pomp and circumstance that my wealth could allow, but I don’t think that’s who we are. Who you are. I’m not one for long speeches, but here goes nothing.”
He pauses and draws in a long, deep breath.
“Eve Allen. I wanted to hate you so bad that I think I tricked myself into believing that life was worth living without love. But I found it between your legs, and even more importantly, your heart.”
I giggle, a flush creeping up my cheeks.
“I know nothing is promised, but I can promise you this… if you become my wife in name, title and blood, I swear I will spend the rest of my days avenging those who did you harm and fucking you like the beautiful little slut you are for me.”
My hand flies to my mouth.
