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."
