That was the man I loved.
I pushed up so I could kiss his jaw, sat back and whispered, “Thank you.”
“In the end,” he began. “We’re her family, you included in a way. We should protect her like they protected her.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let down the side,” I replied, and quoted, “Aristocrats are dab hands at holding their secrets.”
“Sorry?”
“Something Tempie said.”
“Sounds like her.” Then, “Are we going to tell the girls?”
“I’ll let that be your call.”
“I think they’ll be glad to know Harmony found happiness after all.”
That would be my call.
I just nodded.
“What now?” he asked.
“Well, I can’t type. My hands aren’t bad, but they feel tight and typing will probably exacerbate it. And I need a shower. I still have rain hair.”
No lip tip that time, he smiled full out.
“Rain hair?” he inquired.
“I saw myself in the mirror this morning. I look a fright.”
“You look beautiful to me.”
And again.
The man I loved.
Still, a girl couldn’t have bad hair for long, says me.
“So…for me, shower,” I stated. “Then I think I need a nap. After that, I need to fuck a hot duke. And hopefully, that’ll bring us to cocktails.”
“I hope you know, I will always be up for a fuck, but not with you having an injured knee and palms.”
“We just Home-Office-official, unofficially, soon-to-be-officially-official got engaged,” I reminded him.
I’d tell him later, as crazy as it was, his official, but unofficial, soon-to-be-officially-official proposal was the best thing ever.
“I suppose I could eat you without causing further injury,” he mused.
I rolled my eyes.
But my pussy got happy.
He bent and kissed my nose again.
When he sat back, he said, “Shower for you. And nap. We’ll play it by ear after.”
“Doable,” I replied.
