“What are you thinking?”he asks.
“Just how happy I am,” I tell him softly.
His mouth twitches with that almost-smile that only seems to exist for me.“Good.I like seeing you happy.”
He says it so simply.I believe him.My happiness and safety seem to be Kian’s top priorities.
He turns more toward me, his hands gripping my hips tighter as he urges me across the seat and settles me onto his lap like it’s my spot, like that’s where I belong.
I curl my arms around his neck and press my forehead to his.“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.”
“Good.Me neither.”
We sit there for a moment, breathing each other in.I settle further into him and frown when something digs into my leg.
“Ow!”I gasp, jerking back.“What is that?”
He tenses as I frown at his lap.It’s not his cock, though it’s hardening underneath me.No, it’s something else.
I shift, my hand drifting between us.My fingers brush against a small, hard square in the pocket of his jeans.
“Kian?”I ask, looking up at him for an answer.
His jaw tightens as he gently rubs my leg.“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.What’s in your pocket?A tool?”I ask, shifting off his lap.
He reaches for me, frowning at my retreat.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure him.“But I need you to move whatever that is, so I don’t have bruises all over my leg.”
He closes his eyes for half a second, then opens them.“I wasn’t going to do this here, but you know what?It’s kind of the perfect place.”
“What?”
He reaches into his jeans and pulls out a small black box.
My heart stutters.I pull back slowly, staring down at the box in his hands.
Time freezes as I stare at it.
At him.
Then back at the box.
My hands shake.
“Kian…” I breathe, but I have no idea what I’m trying to say.
He shifts slightly, one hand staying firm on my hip, the other holding the box.
“Larsen,” he says, voice rough.“I’m yours.”
That simple statement alone almost makes me cry.
“I’m not good with speeches,” he continues.“You know that.”
My eyes burn, and I nod shakily.
