Something solid knocks against my thigh. His phone? I reach in, and my fingers close around something small.
Excitement fills my stomach as I pull it out. A green ring box.
Roman comes into the sitting room in nothing but a towel slung low around his chiselled hips. His dark hair curls near the temples.
‘Oh shit. Maggie… you weren’t supposed to find that.’
My heart is trying to batter its way out of my ribcage.
‘Does this mean what I think it does?’
He crosses the room, taking my face in his hands, droplets still clinging to his skin.
‘As long as you think it means I want to spend the rest of my life with you, then yes.’
Tears prick as I look at his perfect face.
‘Really?’ I whisper. ‘Are you sure? After today, I thought you might have reservations. I come with homicidal relatives who’ve got no boundaries.’
‘I know exactly what you come with,’ he says, planting kisses on my jaw. ‘I still choose you. Every day. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.’
The tears flow unbidden. Roman makes me feel good enough.
‘Is that a yes?’ he murmurs against my lips.
‘Fuck, yes.’
He scoops me into his arms and kisses me hard, both of us laughing between swipes of his tongue.
He pulls back long enough to take the box and open it.
The ring catches the light, a beautifully set emerald that steals my breath. It’s perfect.
He slides it onto my finger and drops to his knees.
‘My future wife.’
The word sends a shiver straight through me with the almost reverent way he says it.
I stare at my hand through the blurry tears.
‘I’m going to make you laugh every day. Make you feel loved. Make sure you have enough orgasms that you never have to hump your pillow again. Unless you want to, in which case I vow to whisper filthy things in your ear while you do.’
I laugh as he moves closer to me, his hands pressing my oversized t-shirt up until his lips meet my flesh.
‘Roman,’ I whisper, threading my hands into his thick hair.
‘I want to taste my fiancée.’
Holy fuck buckets. The growl he lets out when he says that makes me melt.
Against all odds, I feel like we’re going to make it work. To go through life laughing and loving, and coming until we’re old and wrinkly.
His mouth is on me in a flush of divine heat, and I’m lost within seconds of the twists of his tongue.
Good god, I love his damn tongue. He’ll have me coming within two minutes if I let him. But I want more.
I pull back and almost lose my nerve at the sad little face he makes when he looks up at me.
