For once in my life, I was completely speechless. My heart pounded in my chest. My throat constricted tight. Shit, was I having a heart attack? This would be the worst timing. God, he’d be so sad if he killed me by asking me to marry him.
“Mari?” he prompted, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. “This is traditionally where you say something. Preferably ‘yes,’ but I’m open to creative alternatives.”
I found my voice at last. “Are you sure? Because I’m a lot. Like, alot,a lot. I leave wet towels on the bed sometimes. I talk during movies. I have very strong opinions about how the dishwasher should be loaded, and I will die on that hill.”
“I know.” His smile widened. “I love all of it. Even the wet towels, though we may need to negotiate terms there.”
“And you’re sure you want to spend the rest of your life with someone who has a strange attraction to setting things on fire?”
“Especially that.” He remained patiently on one knee. “What do you say, Mari? Partners in everything?”
“Yes,” I said, the word escaping on a breath. “Yes, I’ll marry you. But only if you promise never to propose to anyone else, because honestly, you’re too good at it and it’s not fair to the rest of the dating population.”
He chuckled as he slipped the ring onto my finger, then stood to pull me into his arms. “I think I can manage that.”
The ring caught the light as I wrapped my arms around his neck, the unfamiliar weight already feeling strangely right. “I love you. Even though you’re still annoyingly perfect sometimes.”
“I love you too,” he said, then added with a hint of mischief, “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his thumbs tracing circles on my hips, “that when we get married, I might take your last name. Landry has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Hudson Landry.”
“You want to take my name?” I stared at him, genuinely surprised. “But I thought—I mean, traditionally?—”
“Since when have we done anything traditionally? Sweetheart, I gave you multiple orgasms before I even knew your name.”
“Right. Good times.” I hummed, beaming.
He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “So you’d be okay with that?”
“Hudson Landry,” I tested the name, finding I liked the sound of it more than I’d expected. “It has a nice ring to it.”
“Good,” he said, pulling me close again. Hudson’s kiss was familiar now, but somehow still thrilling. Like coming home and embarking on an adventure all at once. When we finally broke apart, breathless and grinning, I glanced around the empty rooftop.
“You know,” I said, trailing a finger down his chest, “we just got engaged on a rooftop overlooking Manhattan. That’s very romantic. Almost rom-com worthy, one might say.”
“One might,” he agreed.
“It would be a shame to waste such a perfect setting.” I began backing toward a secluded corner of the rooftop, where a small garden area offered some privacy from neighboring buildings. “Especially when the venue is technically ours for another hour.”
Hudson’s smile turned predatory in a way that still made my knees weak. “Ms. Landry, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“Future Mrs. Landry,” I corrected, already working on his tie. “Or perhaps the future Mrs. Hudson Landry, if you’re serious about that name change. And yes, I absolutely am suggesting rooftop engagement sex. Consider it your first fiancé duty.”
“Well, I’d hate to fail in my very first duty.” He caught me around the waist, lifting me with an ease that never failed to thrill me. “Though I feel obligated to point out that this is probably against several city ordinances.”
“Rule-following is your past, Jones-soon-to-be-Landry. Public indecency is your future.” I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me toward the garden nook. “Better get used to it.”
His laugh muffled against my neck as he set me down gently. “As long as I’m getting used to it with you, I’m all in.”
He had condoms, of course. Always prepared. I was glad he was, because the moment he touched me, all thoughts of health and safety jumped straight off the roof.
We kicked off our shoes, laughing as we stumbled farther into the rooftop garden. I went straight for his belt, and to my surprise, he let me. Normally he was all grabby and “who is in control there, sweetheart?” I didn’t mind either way.
Kissing him was like that first sip of an expensive cocktail. I needed more. However, he broke apart and spoke against my cheek as he bunched my dress up in his hands.
“Probably best to keep some clothes on in case someone comes up.”
“As long as little Hudson comes up, I don’t care if you keep the shirt on,” I said, giggling and palming him through his trousers.
“Oh, I’m up, sweetheart.” Hudson’s appreciative noise sent a jolt straight to my core. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of my hip. “So damn beautiful.”
