“You’re welcome. Stay out of trouble, you two.”
“Will do.”
I hang up, and we stare at the phone in perfect silence for an entire minute.
Reality takes its time settling in, but it does settle. Becker is dead. There will be no trial to manipulate, no loophole to exploit, no last-minute escape. Not that it truly mattered—there was more than enough evidence to bury him, regardless. Still, the relief confirms what I hadn’t fully acknowledged. Some part of me expected him to survive it.
But Becker is gone. Permanently. He will never hurt anyone again. No more women will suffer at his hands. No more butterflies added to his collection. No lawyer can save him now.
“Is it bad if I feel good that he’s dead?” I ask, genuinely concerned for my soul.
“If so, then I’m just as bad.”
“I didn’t realize how worried I was that he’d find a way out of this.”
“Me neither. I knew he might eventually become a problem again, once locked up and with nothing else to do with his time. Men like him are resourceful, and seeing us in his office weeks before his arrest probably convinced him that he was right about me being Nammota and we’re responsible for what happened.”
“Yeah, I also had that thought. But that won’t happen now. He’s dead.”
I can’t believe how hard I’m smiling at the thought. I know I’m supposed to “love thy neighbor” and everything, but fuck that shit.
When I look up at Lex, he’s as elated as I am.
“Celebratory door sex?” I suggest, in the mood to resume what Lewis interrupted.
“Fuck yeah.”
I’m back in Lex’s arms, pinned to the door in no time. We’re kissing again, invigorated by this turn of events.
We made out the whole elevator ride up, then as we stumbled our way through the hallways. Between that and the evening of small touches and heavy flirting, I’m drenched. And he must know it, because as soon as he’s freed, he aligns the thick tip of his cock with my opening and slams in.
“Aah, fuck,” I moan, biting my bottom lip.
“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he rasps, already thrusting into me.
“I am. I’ve been yours for so long, baby…”
“And I’ve been yours from the first moment I saw you. I just didn’t know it yet.”
My smile is so wide it hurts my cheeks. I can’t believe this is what the rest of my life will look like. That this is the man I’ll spend it with.
It seems he feels the same because, still ramming into me with deep and long thrusts, he moans, “Marry me.”
We both freeze, taken by surprise. Did he—did he just ask what I think he did? Is this a proposal? Definitely not the kind I was expecting, but I couldn’t care less right now.
Still planted in me, still immobile, he moves his upper body away to look down at me. “I didn’t—”
“Yes,” I say, cutting him off. “I’ll marry you, yes.”
“No.” He frowns. “I didn’t mean it.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t mean it likethis,” he explains. “To ask it likethis.”
“Too late. You asked. I said yes. We’re now engaged,” I say matter-of-factly.
“No, I—I was working on something. An actual proposal.”
His panic is endearing enough for me to ease off. He wanted to make the moment special, but between the door sex, the exhilarating sense of freedom, and the booze, he got a little carried away. As much as I want this to become official, I don’t want to rob either of us of the actual proposal he’s working on.
So, feeling magnanimous, I suggest, “Okay, from now on, I get to call youfiancébehind closed doors, but it won’t become official until you ask for real.” He considers it, eyebrows twitching as he ponders. “Does that work for you?” I insist.
